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With an exuberance so strong it nearly caused his slug body to tremble, the Yeerk wormed its way into the ear canal of his new human host. Not for the first time, he wondered at how such a different species from so far across the galaxy could be so… compatible… with Yeerk physiology. Every synaptic pathway that he wrapped himself around felt like an old glove to him, every nook and cranny of the mushy cushion he connected evoked one strong, almost primal thought in the young Yeerk: home. Even the corpus callosum, that strange, cliff-like dividing spot between the two halves of the human brain, was as comfy as a soft squishy bed would be to the human host. To have evolved across such a great distance, separated by light years, and still fit so neatly… well, it was just further evidence to the Yeerk of the birthright of his species, their true destiny as overlords of the galaxy. For Generations, his people had carried the torch into space, spreading their influence, taking what was theirs.

And now he was finally leading the next phase of the assault.

The best part of the plan, of course, was the relative assurance that his mission would be free of interference from the pesky Andalite bandits that so plagued Visser Three. They were in California, whereas soon, he would be thousands of miles away, in a human town called Boston, a place hitherto untouched by either side.

Of course, if he'd been in charge, the Yeerks would have left California and set up a second front years ago. Earth was such a big planet, and the Andalite bandits were so few! Surely they could have just worked uninterrupted from some other area. France, perhaps, where the Prime Minister was already a Controller and his staff was already used to his eccentric need to be alone for several hours every three days. Certainly their was no need to conduct so many of their operations right next to the Andalites' Earth-bound scoops, where the pesky little nuisances couldn't help but interfere. But alas, Visser Three wasn't going to "flee" from those bandits, even if doing so could almost guarantee him victory in the long-term.

Nevertheless, such a wasteful, costly approach was the reason that this new opportunity had opened up for him. The problem was absurdly simple: money. The Andalite bandits had gotten the Sharing into ridiculous amounts of trouble over the years, and settling lawsuits quietly didn't come cheap. Some were easily settled by making the complainants into Controllers, but there had simply been too many of them over the years, and many from towns and cities in other states and other countries, too far away to maintain access to Kandrona rays. The Sharing was in serious financial trouble, and if they didn't find a way to give it's budget a healthy influx soon, they would have to start cutting back on those wonderfully extravagant social events that so lured voluntary, influential hosts into their grasp.

That's where his new host came in. He had access to someone with ridiculous resources, an heiress with more cash flow weekly than the Sharing's main accounting budget had seen in a month. Her father owned restaurants, hotels, cruise ships… even a part of the orbiting space station, although the latter had been taken over and staffed with three human-Controllers very early in the invasion. Infesting him was intenable, as he traveled too much and had a staff too large for the Yeerks to infiltrate stealthfully. But this heiress, this… London Tipton… she never strayed from the Tipton Hotel in Boston. Making her a Controller would be easy, along with any of the hotel staff and regulars who might normally be alert to changes in her behavior. Yes, this… Tipton Hotel… would soon belong to the Yeerks, and then, they would never have financial problems again.

The Yeerk made his host body rise. It was a strange, inquisitive mind. Offbeat, to say the least, but shrewd in it's own way. The perfect host for his mission.

«Are you ready, Sub-Visser Seven?» the Visser demanded.

The sub-visser caused his host body to smirk. "Indeed, Visser. I am prepared."

«Twenty of our finest Yeerks accompany you, as well as our only self-sustaining small-scale Kandrona. Do NOT fail me.»

The sub-visser bowed. "May the light of the Kandrona shine on you, Visser." With that, he made a hasty departure. It was never wise to spend much time in Visser Three's presence.

He emerged from the Yeerk pool in the local middle school janitor's closet. Fitting enough, since he was pretty much dressed like one. He looked at his host body in the mirror. Adjusted the glasses, felt at the bald spot on top of the head. Yes, no one would suspect this man of anything until it was too late.

With the true human, Arwin Hawkhauser, pleading in the back of his mind, the Sub-Visser stepped out into a world that was his for the taking.