translated by DawningStar
My name is Cassandra.
I don't have a last name. Or at least, I never knew my last name. People say I'm a descendant of Cassie. She was a member of the Animorphs, the resistance group which almost succeeded in delaying the Yeerks until the Andalite fleet arrived. Perhaps they would even have succeeded if the Andalites had not been defeated even before Earth fell.
I don't know whether or not I really am. I don't suppose it matters much. But I was named after her, which is enough for me. It's strange--it's been so long since any of us has been free, and yet we still remember those days. Even I can remember it as if it were real, being able to do everything without interference from a Yeerk, no cage trapping me.
I am Controlled by Tariss 236, and have been for approximately one thousand, two hundred cycles now. It's not that bad, really, aside from not being able to move. She doesn't bother to taunt or torture me. Not many Yeerks do anymore. We humans have stopped even trying to fight the control.
Tariss bent over and leaned her ear toward the surface of the Yeerk Pool. She slithered out of her ear--well, mine, for now.
I staggered and almost fell as I was suddenly in control of my own body again. The Hork-Bajir caught hold of me before I could injure myself. They aren't really guards, not anymore. They're just there to assist the host until he or she remembers how to walk again.
One opened the cage door. The other gave me a gentle push over the threshold, and the door closed again.
I stumbled to one side of the cage and sat down gratefully. I don't know why the Yeerks even bother to cage us anymore. Most of us don't want to be voluntary hosts, not with the stigma attached to it, but there aren't many who would actually try to get away.
The others in the cage looked up and smiled broadly at seeing me, for this was the only time in three days we were able to talk, to have fun.
I smiled back. I am a child by the old human standards, only eleven Earth years, but I was considered one of the best Storytellers on Earth. It was what we did during this time--at least, those cagegroups lucky enough to have a Storyteller. There aren't really all that many. Most are killed by the Yeerks when they reach adulthood and might be dangerous. Probably I will be too.
I don't care. I have to tell my stories. For the others in my own cagegroup, and the ones close enough to hear me; for the future Storytellers who would perhaps hear my stories and tell them to others; for myself. Even, as silly as it seems, for the characters I tell of.
"Cassandra, do you have a story? A new story?" asked Tovi, the only host there younger than me, only seven or eight years old. He showed promise; maybe someday he would decide to become a Storyteller as well.
I nodded to him. "Yes, I do. A new story."
There were fifteen of us altogether. Nine were adult hosts, middle-aged or fairly young. Three were not too much older than me, in their teens. One was an elderly lady; not many hosts lived so long.
The other members of my cagegroup moved closer, to hear better over the splashes of the Pool, and the screams and sobs of those few newly infested hosts--mostly aliens. The human race had long ago fallen, though every once in a long while you'd find a rare holdout in some isolated wilderness. Hosts in nearby cages huddled against the bars to hear.
I shut my eyes, the better to concentrate on the story I'd imagined for the past three days and block out the scenes surrounding me.
The village was dark that night. Children of many species played in the pools of light created by small lamps or candles, chasing one another through the night and the trembling shadows. No adults were visible, except a lone Andalite hurrying by as though anxious to get out of the darkened region.
As he reached the end of the street, about to step into the roadway that curved away from the children's playground, he looked back briefly, and shuddered. May no one ever find you,> he murmured. I pity anyone who does.>
One small human girl nearby looked up and met his eyes for a brief instant. "And well you may," she said. "Be glad you bear no enmity toward us."
The adult shuddered again at the child's unchildlike words and look, and quickly stepped away from the village boundaries. It wasn't that he feared the children--they would never harm anyone without reason. Unfortunately, they had reason to dislike all too many.
He'd never believed in the village, the legendary secret community begun by one Karen, former host to the founder of the Yeerk Peace Movement. He had heard it was a place the Yeerks could never find, where hosts were safe and any enemy quickly became nonexistent. He had dismissed it as the new folklore of the defeated humans. Everyone knew the Yeerk Peace Movement had been crushed almost as soon as the Andalites had, with a random changing of hosts that quickly revealed all of them.
But he had seen it now, this tiny village which appeared to exist entirely outside of time. Populated entirely by children, one would think it to be largely defenseless, but the adult knew firsthand that this was not so.
He hoped it was never discovered. Even the Yeerks did not deserve to be the focus of the defenses of the little village.
The adult hurried away into the night. He never looked back.
Even if he had, he would have seen nothing. Only the road, stretching to the horizon.
The girl who had spoken watched him go. Her large green eyes sparkled with what might have been tears for an instant before she turned away, rejoining the complex game.
An Andalite boy caught a Naharan in a patch of firelight, sweeping his tail-blade forward to brush the other child with the flat of it. Gotcha, Kliya!> he announced, and turned to run away. The Naharan twitched her tail once, and bounded off on all four paws, catlike ears and whiskers pricked.
The human girl chased a Hork-Bajir child, but it was obvious her heart was not in it. Another human tagged her from behind. "Is something wrong, Karen?" he asked. "You aren't acting like yourself."
She turned to him, forcing a smile. "No, nothing's wrong, Daren. I'm just sorry to see the adult go back."
Daren nodded in understanding. "You're afraid for him--for us. For this world we've made, and the one we left behind."
"Yes."
"It's getting late. We ought to call an end to the Games."
"You do it, Daren, please. Make sure everyone gets in all right. I…I need to think."
The boy nodded again and hurried off into the night. Karen looked out, toward where the roadway had been. There was only a wall of swirling white there now.
"Cassandra, my time's almost up," Tovi interrupted me.
I sighed. I'd gotten caught up in the story again, and forgotten the time limit. "Sorry. I'll continue it next cycle."
"Could you tell us a poem?" he asked hopefully. "I always like your poems. I remember them well, and they help me get through till next cycle."
"Yes," the oldest, Sara, agreed. "Your poems are a great help, Cassandra."
I smiled. "All right then. I happen to have one. It isn't really structured all that well, but I think it'll be...inspirational."
Everyone leaned forward. I closed my eyes once more, remembering the words that had somehow become a poem without my even realizing it.
They tell us we are slaves, "Freedom is hard to define.
No one seems to know just what it is,
Least of all those who try to take it away.
They tell us we are slaves,
That we have no freedom.
We do not act nor do we speak.
They tell us we have no hope,
That there is no way out.
We do not try to escape.
And yet I wonder--why not?
We can believe
we can hope
we can dream
we can speak.
Even this poem is proof of that.
So why do we not?
That we have no freedom.
What is freedom?
True that they control us
for now.
But still we are free.
For despite their words
We do hope.
And as for belief...
So long as we do not believe their words
we will remain truly free."
There was silence. There were tears in Sara's eyes, and many of the other adults looked the same. Tovi was nodding vehemently. "Yes," he said, "that's how it is. Repeat it, Cassandra, I want to remember it."
I did. Tovi echoed silently, his mouth shaping the words.
Just when I think I understand humans, you come up with something like that,> came an Andalite thought-speak voice, the words tinged with astonishment, even wonder.
I twisted my head to look. Our cage was near the edge of the human cages, and a female Andalite was confined just within hearing distance. I must have been talking a little more loudly than I had meant to. "What do you mean?" I asked.
Look around you. They've given up. Everyone's given up. The Hork-Bajir, the Gedd, even we Andalites. And what are you humans doing in the little time you have to yourselves? Telling stories and poems about freedom!>
Glancing around, I had to admit she was right. The Hork-Bajir huddled against the sides of their cages; the Andalites lay with folded legs looking morosely at the locked sheaths on their tail-blades.
I turned back to face her across the distance between our cages. "Maybe you ought to tell stories. It's something the Yeerks have never really been able to understand. It's our way of keeping the faith. Someday we'll all be free again."
She shook her head. You're deluding yourself.>
"You're being self-defeatist," I retorted.
You're an ignorant child.>
"You're a miserable adult."
You're a primitive human.>
"You're a conquered Andalite. So what? Are we about done trading insults? It's pretty pointless."
A tiny quantity of respect entered her voice. Perhaps you are correct, human.>
"I'm Cassandra."
And I am Lanita-Parilas-Halian.>
Tovi laughed. "Your charm just won you another friend, Cassandra," he said.
Just then a Hork-Bajir unlocked our cage door, and pulled out both Tovi and me. We were pushed into line, slowly walking out onto the infestation pier. A Hork-Bajir took hold of my arm and lowered my head to the liquid.
I felt Tariss push her way into her ear. It was hers again now. Do you want to know what I did?> I asked her.
If I had the slightest interest in knowing, human, I could get it from your mind.>
I told a poem, and started a story.>
This is no different from all the other times.>
Do you want to hear the poem?>
Irritation crept into Tariss's voice. No, I do not.>
I'll tell you anyway. Freedom is hard to define,> I began, and recited the poem to the Yeerk.
Typical human idealism,> Tariss sneered, but it lacked any venom.
Why, thank you.>
It wasn't a compliment.>
I know.> I gave an irritatingly smug mental smile, and Tariss nearly forgot how rude it would be to speak to me aloud in front of others.
Another cycle. Three days before I could continue the story, before I could see and talk with my friends again. Tariss knew how much I missed them, of course she did. I could never hide anything. But I would tell her the story sometime during the cycle when she was off guard, and she would want to hear the rest.
Sometimes I think that perhaps if she weren't a Yeerk, Tariss might have become a Storyteller in her own right. She always likes my stories, even if she won't admit it; sometimes she even likes my poems. You can't spend three years with someone inside your head without getting to know them pretty well.
Dream on, human.>
I laughed silently and got down to dreaming--of poems, of my story. Of new friends and old, of Tariss and Lanita and Sara and Tovi. Of freedom.
How can hosts say this life is boring? There was so much I had to think about before the next cycle came!
Karen looked around, assuring herself a final time that everyone was where they were supposed to be. Daren stood to her left, the Naharan named Kliya to her right, and representatives of every species in the village were in the circle. Around the small group clustered all the children of the village. One human child stood in the center of the circle who had never been there before, a boy named David.
In a net hanging from the ceiling was the Time Matrix, glistening a pure white, looming above the children's heads.
"We are the children of the Hidden Village," Karen began the ceremony.
Daren continued, "We exist outside of time, outside of the universe."
"We exisst in thiss universse, one we have created of the hopess and dreamss of uss all," a Ssstram named Saiar said.
"We are the lost children, those who for many reasons were never children before, who now may become adult."
"One of us is now ready to leave this universe for the one outside."
All the members of the circle looked at David. "Have you been fair and honest in the Game?"
"Have you played with understanding of others and yourself?"
"Will you continue to be fair, honest, and understanding outside?"
"Will you fight against injustice and cruelty, not with weapons, but by showing what is right?"
"Will you never use the ways of those you fight against to defeat them?"
"Are you ready to leave us and become an adult?"
David shut his eyes for a brief moment. "I am ready. I will remember always what I have learned in this village, and when all have become adult, the universe outside will be equally peaceful."
Karen nodded. "We who are still children will not forget the adults, but will join them when we in our turn become adult."
"Those who are adult will not forget what they have learned."
Together we will make the universe better, not by killing but by showing what is right.>
"Many races will join us, and there will be many who fight against us."
"We will not use their own tactics against them; we will not be drawn into their fights."
"This universe will remain as a refuge for those who need it, but now it is time for one new adult to leave."
"Those who have played the Game and showed themselves to be fair and honest, understanding and joyful, and who now are ready to play the greater game outside this universe, are the adults."
"David joins them today," Karen completed the ceremony. All the members of the Inner Circle reached up and placed their hands on the Time Matrix simultaneously.
The surface of the Time Matrix seemed to go through a prism as scintillating colors replaced the white, swirling down the sides and caressing the hands of the children with warmth.
David looked at his best friend, a Mak named Trkpn, eyes filling with sorrow for a moment. "Goodbye!" he called.
The Time Matrix glowed, and a portal formed around David. For an instant he Karen saw him growing rapidly, to the appearance of a human around twenty years old. Then he was gone, back into the true universe.
Trkpn reached forward for a moment, his gills turning a deep blue in sorrow. "I will miss you," he whispered. "I look forward to the day when I can join you."
As the children began to leave, Karen laid a hand on his shoulder. "It won't be long. And it will seem only seconds to David."
The color lightened to his normal off-white. "Thank you."
She smiled. "My job, Trkpn."
"How long, Karen? How long before we are all ready to help those in the other universe?" Trkpn shook his head. "It seems forever."
"You know time isn't the same here and there," Karen reminded. "So it makes no difference to them how long it takes us to be ready."
"How will they know it? You've seen the state it is in. We all have. What if they forget us?"
"They won't. You misjudge their memories--and their hopes." Karen glanced upward, at the Time Matrix. "I've found ways of communicating with those outside."
Trkpn's gills turned faint purple in a smile. "Then you are almost ready to go yourself."
"Yes. Daren can take over for me here, and Kliya. But I have to go back soon. I have to be there before the rest, to prepare."
"You'll need help."
"I'll have help. A few others are going with me, and some people I can count on are already there."
The Mak paused and looked at her. "Aftran? The Yeerk peace movement?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. None of those who find us have known anything about the peace movement--or Aftran."
"I'm coming with you."
"No, you aren't. Faieya is coming, and Dalia-Ratani-Nekan, and Tari Hamee. You don't need to come. Aieia would miss you too much." Karen sighed. "I'm sorry, Trkpn, but you can't come."
He held her eyes for a long moment, and finally nodded. "All right. But be careful, Karen, please? You know we'll never succeed without you."
Karen snorted. "No, I don't know that. But don't worry, I'll be fine."
"When do you leave?"
"Soon."
I stopped speaking. Tovi's eyes were fastened on my face as he absorbed the story, the others not quite so engrossed but still listening intently. A glance toward the other cages caught Lanita watching us with all four eyes for an instant before she turned away and tried to pretend she hadn't been paying attention. I smiled very slightly.
I'd gone on too long, though. Two Hork-Bajir were already at the door of the cage. I wondered briefly if they'd heard, and if so, whether they had let me stay a little longer because of it. It had happened before, both hosts and Yeerks listening in on stories.
The two unlocked the cage and beckoned me, Tovi, and several others. Time was up again. "You'll have to wait until next cycle for more," I said with a sigh.
Tovi grinned at me as he was led out. "It's worth the wait."
"I'm glad you think so," I smiled back.
Infestation again. Controlled again. Dreaming again, talking only with Tariss. Another three days.
Three days, the same amount of time as always. Nothing had changed. So why did I feel as though there would be a great change in everything during this next cycle?
My imagination, doubtless. But even as the Hork-Bajir lowered my head to the pool liquid and I felt Tariss's tingling touch in my ear, the feeling didn't go away...
"First we'll need to find out whether there's still any active resistance to the Yeerks," Karen decided as she stared out the window of an old shack. "Anything at all. The Yeerk peace movement, the Andalites, the humans, anything." She was adult now, a human woman perhaps twenty years of age. Her bright red hair was slightly darker, but her green eyes were as brilliant as ever.
"And how are we going to manage that?" asked Faieya skeptically. "Somehow I don't think the Yeerks will take it very well if we walk up and ask, 'Excuse us, but is anyone still fighting you?'" The Naharan was also adult, her dark tabby pattern perfect for blending into the shadows.
No, of course not. But there are still records, aren't there?> Dalia asked Karen.
Karen smiled slightly. "Living records. And I know just where to find them."
Only an hour later, Karen stood at the door of a ruined house. Once, it had been the house of Erek King, a Chee. She just hoped the Chee were still there.
She knocked on the door. There was no response. Her heart sank, but she pushed the door open and picked her way over the rubble-covered floor. The basement, she remembered from what Aftran had transferred to her. The way in was through the basement.
The stairs were narrow and wooden, beginning to rot apart. Karen cautiously made her way down, gripping the railing to keep from breaking the fragile wood. "Erek?" she called. "Erek, I need your help."
There was a soft sound of movement from one side of the basement as Karen reached the ground. An apparently human man stepped out of nowhere. Karen looked at him in surprise. "Is that you, Erek?" she asked doubtfully.
The Chee looked at her grimly. "How did you find us, Yeerk?"
Karen sighed in relief and grinned. "I'm not a Controller, Erek. I'm Karen, the former host of Aftran Nine-Four-Two. Do you remember me?"
Erek stared for a moment. "Impossible," he stated flatly. "Karen would be far older, if not dead. And she died near the beginning of the open war."
"I would be, but I haven't been here, exactly. And I escaped. You'll remember I was assumed dead. No one really knew for sure." Karen shook back her red curls in irritation. "But that doesn't matter. I need to know if there's anyone still fighting the Yeerks. Especially here on Earth, but anywhere else too. I've been...preparing a group to free Earth again."
There was a pause as Erek's holographic eyes met Karen's green ones. Finally he nodded. "It will do no harm to tell you that, I suppose," he said. "There is a small group among the Yeerks which is still working for peace despite the destruction of the peace movement Aftran began, but no one knows who they are. And the Hawjabran are coordinating a resistance, on Earth and the Andalite homeworld, and quite possibly on other planets as well. Why do you want to know?"
"I told you. I've been in sort of a different universe for...however long it's been, and I've been getting people ready to retake Earth, and then the other planets. A few others and I are here as an advance scout force, to see what things are like before everyone comes."
For the first time, a spark of excitement came into Erek's eyes. "How many?"
Karen smiled. "As many as it takes."
"We may be signing our own death sentences, but..." Erek shook his head. "You have the support of the Chee."
Your typical idealistic sappiness,> Tariss said caustically. I'd just told her the next part of my story, and as usual she tried to pretend she didn't like it. You should know there is no chance Earth will ever be freed, and yet you still tell stories about it.>
I gave a mental shrug. That's part of what stories are for. To explore possibilities and find the best ones.>
And what else do you think stories are for?>
I didn't bother answering. I felt Tariss dig into the parts of my brain where the answer lay.
She laughed incredulously. To make possibilities real? You actually believe what you're saying? You truly think your stories are real?>
How do you know they aren't?> I demanded. Maybe not here, maybe not now. But somewhere, what I say is real.>
There was a short silence from Tariss. Sometimes I wonder about your sanity, human. You really do believe this.>
I couldn't tell the stories if I didn't believe them.>
Well.> Another pause, longer. I wondered what Tariss was thinking. Perhaps, human. We will see. Perhaps.>
I am free, you know. We all are.>
Tariss sighed mentally. Back to that poem of yours, are you? Of all the host bodies I've had, you are certainly the most stubborn--or maybe the craziest. You're controlled by a Yeerk, you can't move your own body. You're a helpless pawn in our wars. And yet you say you're free.>
Yes. Until I forget to tell my stories and poems, until I give up, I am free. And as for being a helpless pawn--are you so sure you aren't as helpless as I? A character in someone else's story?>
This time the pause stretched for five minutes or more. I have no time for your nonsense now,> she said finally. Leave me alone, human.>
The vehicle we rode in, a public-transport tubeship, came to a stop. Tariss stood and walked out. I settled back to a tiny corner of my mind with a faint sense of victory.
Tariss had been ordered to report to Sub-Visser Sixty-two, to help with some problem or other. Probably nothing major, but Tariss was happy about it; if she did a good enough job, she might get a promotion. That meant she might be transferred to a new host. It seemed likely, since I wasn't a particularly powerful or useful host. I wasn't sure whether or not Tariss would be happy about it. I wasn't even sure whether or not I would be happy about it. If she was transferred, it might mean that I got a more sympathetic Yeerk, but it would almost definitely mean I would leave behind Tovi and Sara and Lanita, going to some other schedule, possibly even a different pool.
That would mean they might never hear the rest of the story. It was a silly thing to be upset about, very likely the least of my worries, but it stuck in my mind nonetheless. What if I was put in a pool where all the hosts were kept unconscious while the Yeerks fed? Or one which kept every host separate? There weren't many, but they did exist. And then no one but me would ever know how the story ended.
Except whatever Yeerk I was assigned to, of course. But that hardly counted.
We'd reached the place where all the Sub-Vissers and Vissers on Earth had their offices, a tall building with a spire on the very top. It was an off-white color, the outer walls constructed of Ramonite. Tariss walked up to the door and touched the entrance plate. "Tariss Two-Three-Six of the Niam Tras pool," she said.
The wall shifted, becoming an entryway. Tariss strode inside. I felt her nervousness as she took a deep breath.
Just within was a dropshaft, which pulled us upward toward the higher floors. Someday I will live here,> Tariss said. Here, or in an equivalent place on another planet.>
I said nothing. She already knew that I didn't think she'd have the chance--at least not here on Earth.
You are hopelessly stubborn,> she told me in irritation.
I try.>
Sub-Visser Sixty-two was the third-ranked Yeerk on Earth, so his floor was near the top. The drop-shaft knew where Tariss was supposed to go, and it brought us to a halt on the right level. Tariss stepped out, and we moved down the short hallway and into the sub-visser's office.
He had an Andalite host, so there were no chairs. Tariss bowed her head slightly. "The Kandrona shine and strengthen you, Sub-Visser," she said.
And you, Tariss Two-Three-Six,> he replied absently. You're here for your new assignment. You will take charge of a task force and hunt down the small group of rebels in Arrain Eram.>
I felt Tariss's sudden jolt of misgiving. "I had not heard about that, sir."
The sub-visser looked briefly surprised. You hadn't? Oh, right, right, it's top-secret, of course you haven't. It's nothing big, but we can't have word leaking out, now can we? There're a few humans and others who've been causing trouble. Might be escaped hosts, which is why we want it taken care of as quickly as possible. Crushed. You can recapture the hosts if it's convenient, but there's no real need. I'm sure the members of your task force will tell you anything else you need to know when you get there.>
"And where am I to go?"
Didn't I say? Arrain Eram. You'll take the transtubes there. You'll be given a new host, as well. An Andalite.> Sub-Visser Sixty-two smiled with his eyes. But it seemed somehow lacking, far different from Lanita's. Maybe only real Andalites could smile that way, not Yeerks within Andalites. Best host for fighting!> He gave a mock swing with his own tail-blade, which had been polished until it shone like a mirror.
Tariss bowed again, a human custom the Yeerks liked, and murmured, "Thank you, Sub-Visser."
Not at all, you've been efficient and loyal, and I'm sure you're the best person for the job. If you succeed you'll be rewarded, naturally. Now, your new host awaits at the pool on the lower floor. Just tell the guards who you are.> He turned back to his work, waving a hand in dismissal, but one stalk eye watched us until we had left.
He doesn't look like he's all that dangerous, but he's one of the rising stars in the Yeerk Empire,> Tariss confided to me as we reentered the dropshaft.
I was in shock. Tariss would get a new host already, someone far more suited to her probable new rank, and I...well, I would wait around until I was reassigned. And Tovi, my friends...they might not even know what had happened to me. Almost certainly we would never be in the same cagegroup again.
Tariss twitched uncomfortably. If it means that much to you, I'll try to get word to your friends,> she muttered silently. Just because you haven't been all that bad of a host. Your stories were kind of entertaining every once in a while.>
If I'd had control, my mouth would have dropped open. Tariss, thank you! It'll be so much easier, knowing that Tovi knows I'm all right. I hope nothing bad happens to you,> I added. I can't say I hope you succeed.>
You're still a hopeless idealist,> Tariss told me without any sting to her words. But I suppose idealism has its place. May your next Yeerk be a tolerant one.>
We'd reached the pool level. The pool itself wasn't as big as my last one, but it was far more luxurious. There were few people around. I assumed this was for the high-ranked Yeerks who worked and lived here.
Tariss headed for the pier, where a Hork-Bajir guard looked at her curiously. "I am Tariss Two-Three-Six," she told him. "I was sent by Sub-Visser Sixty-two. You have a new host for me?"
"I do. You will feed. I will bring your host when it is time," he told her. "This one will wait here until I receive orders."
Tariss nodded. "Very well." She walked down the pier, accompanied by the Hork-Bajir. She couldn't seem sentimental about leaving me, as that would be a huge embarrassment for her, maybe even costing the promotion. But she said, Goodbye, Cassandra,> very quietly, just as she slipped out.
The guard had a firm grip on my arm. My short black curls and the side of my face dripped with the pool liquid, and a single tear went unnoticed.
Let me know if you like this. I may just keep going with both of these series.