The Visitor (12 page)

Jake repeated stubbornly.

I said.

Chapman got out of the car. He came around and opened the back door.

“Time to meet the Visser, Andalite. He’ll have a wonderful time with you.”

Chapman lifted me out of the backseat. I looked out through the bars.

I told Jake.

I couldn’t argue with Jake anymore. I was afraid now. Afraid. I could picture what Visser Three might do to me.

I said. I cocked my rear leg and started scratching in that rapid catlike way.

Jake said.

Chapman carried the cage into the construction site. I could see the ground go by beneath me. I could see through the bars all the half-built cinder-block buildings. I could see the very spot where the five of us had cowered in terror while Visser Three had morphed into a monster and swallowed the Andalite prince.

The Andalite’s last despairing cry came back to me. He had lost his fight. Now I was losing mine.

Maybe there was no hope. Maybe we were fools to even try and resist the Yeerks.

I said.

A few seconds later, Chapman put me down on the ground. He waited beside the cage. The two of us stared off into the darkness.

I decided to make sure Jake was gone.

No answer.

If he had lied to me, he would answer now.

No answer. He was truly gone. That fact filled me with grim satisfaction. If Jake and the others survived, there would still be some hope.

But the feeling of loneliness was awful. Then I heard the sound of something large moving swiftly in the air. I pressed my head against the door and looked up. Three craft were descending toward the construction site.

Two of them were smaller, about the size of one of those recreational vehicles, maybe a little larger. They had a cowled, insectlike look. They looked like beetles with twin long, serrated spears pointed forward on each side. The Andalite had called them Bug fighters.

The third craft was much larger, shaped like an angular battle-ax. It was black on black, sharp, and deadly looking. As it sank slowly toward us I felt my fear grow.

It was not the cat that was afraid. It was me, the human. The cat didn’t know what this ship was. I did. I had seen it before. The Andalite had called it a Blade ship.

It was the personal ship of Visser Three. And terror seemed to flow from it. I could smell the fear sweat on Chapman.

I guess I was glad he was scared, too. Maybe Visser Three would become the Vanarx and suck the Chapman Yeerk out of Chapman’s head. Maybe the true Chapman would experience a few seconds of freedom before he was killed. Maybe the Chapman Yeerk would suffer before Visser Three finished him off.

Maybe.

Fear is like a worm inside you. It eats you. It chews
your guts. It bores holes in your heart. It makes you feel hollow. Empty. Alone.

Fear.

The Blade ship landed between two half-finished buildings. The Bug fighters came to rest on either side. They looked so strange, parked between the yellow-painted earthmovers and graders in the construction site.

The earthmovers looked like toys. The alien craft looked like deadly weapons.

I was afraid. I tried to borrow the cat’s courage, his indifference. But then the door of the Blade ship opened. I had no courage.

Only fear.

V
isser Three in person is worse than Visser Three as a hologram. There’s nothing horrible about him. Not when he’s in his normal Andalite body, at least. Andalites are strange-looking, that’s for sure. But they aren’t frightening.

But I had met a real Andalite. You could feel the difference between a real Andalite and the evil beast that was Visser Three. It was like he glowed with some dark light. A light that cast a shadow over your mind.

Visser Three. Even Chapman feared him.

Around the Visser, two Hork-Bajir guards deployed. Each was holding a Dracon beam, not that
Hork-Bajir ever look like they need weapons. They
are
weapons. Marco had called them walking SaladShooters. They are living razor blades. Wickedly curved blades rake forward from their foreheads. More blades are at their elbows and wrists. Their feet are like Tobias’s talons, only much bigger, like tyrannosaur feet.

They are seven feet tall, maybe a little more, with spiked tails. The Andalite had told us that the Hork-Bajir were a good people, enslaved by the Yeerks, just the same way the Yeerks wanted to enslave humans. But it’s hard to look at a Hork-Bajir and think they have ever been anything but killing machines.

Behind the Hork-Bajir came four Taxxons.

Imagine a centipede. Now imagine a centipede twice the length of a man and just as big around. Imagine that the centipede holds the upper third of its body erect. Imagine pointed legs like steel pins below, and smaller legs with little claws as you get closer to the head. Not that it has a real head. There are four separate globs that look like chopped-up red Jell-O that are the Taxxon’s eyes. And at the very top, a mouth. The mouth is perfectly round and lined with row after row of small, needlelike teeth.

The Andalite told us that the Taxxons are all voluntary hosts. They are allies of the Yeerks.

And yet, as horrible as the Hork-Bajir and the Taxxons were, it was Visser Three who made your skin crawl.

Without the hologram communicator, the Visser communicated in the usual Andalite fashion. He thought-spoke, much like we all did when we were in morph.

he asked Chapman.

“Yes, Visser.”

Visser Three advanced toward me, almost mincing on his delicate Andalite legs, looking like a cross between a deer, a human, and a scorpion. He aimed his main eyes at me. His stalk eyes scanned the area, always watchful. He brought his face close to the cage.

I was staring right into his face. I could see the nose slits open and close as he breathed. I could see the large, almond-shaped eyes narrow as he peered inside to get a better look at me.

He was only inches away. I should have tried to reach through the bars and at least bloody him a little.

But the fear was all over me. I was sick with terror. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I couldn’t stand his eyes watching me. I turned away, afraid to look.

Visser Three asked.

It was the first time any of us had ever been spoken to directly by the Visser. His voice was in my head, threatening and cruel and foul beyond description. It was a voice full of power—and hate. When he called me an Andalite, I almost burst out, “No, no, Visser, not an Andalite. A human. A human!”

It was like I could feel the terrible force of his will battering me. In an instant I knew: I would never survive his questioning. I would tell him everything. His power was a million times greater than mine. His will was a vast, huge, irresistible thing. And what was I? Just some foolish little girl. A foolish, lost girl. Lost.

And yet, even as I felt my own mind wither before the black terror of Visser Three, another mind came forward.

I was not alone. There was another in my head with me. Someone whose species memory had no images of Visser Three. Fluffer. Fluffer’s mind contained fears, but they were different from my fears. Fluffer feared big predator birds. Fluffer feared loud aggressive dogs. Fluffer feared dominant male cats.

But Fluffer was not at all impressed by Visser Three.

On the edge of absolute panic, I let the cat in my mind take over. I sank back, hiding behind the calm cat brain.

Visser Three took the cage from Chapman. He lifted it up so he could see inside better.

And what did I do? What did Fluffer do? He stuck his little pink nose up against the bars and sniffed the air.

Fluffer wanted to find out what this creature was, and that meant getting a good smell of him.

Visser Three said.

It took me a second to track on this. Then I realized: He meant Jake. Jake had been in his tiger morph when we battled in the Yeerk pool.

“Yes, Visser,” Chapman said. “They are a family of animals. Felines. These are the smallest.”

Visser Three said to me.

What was I supposed to say? Thank you?

I said nothing. I tried to think nothing. I was afraid that if I said anything he would instantly know I was not an Andalite. And if he realized I was human … the others would never be safe.

I had to stay in this body.

I had to die in this body, and take my secret with me.

Visser Three put my cage back down.

“Visser … I …” Chapman said.

The mask of politeness dropped from Visser Three in a microsecond. Even my cat eyes could barely follow his movements, they were so swift. Visser Three grabbed Chapman around the neck. His Andalite tail arched forward. The dagger point of the tail was in Chapman’s face.

It was like a hiss. The hiss of a snake.

“N-n-n-o, no, Visser.” Chapman was trembling harshly. “I would never defy you. It’s only … the host. Chapman. He and the woman rebelled.”

Visser Three sneered.

This wasn’t going very well for Chapman. Either the real, human Chapman, or the Human-Controller that called itself Chapman.

“Visser, I … I only report the facts to you. M-m-my host is under control. But I am constantly in contact with humans. I occupy a responsible position in their society. I cannot have my host body causing me to twitch and shake. Humans see such things as signs of mental illness. I could lose my position. And I would no longer be of any use to you.”

Visser Three sneered.

“Visser, my host begs leave to address you directly,” Chapman said.

Visser Three hesitated. I saw his stalk eyes scan around, checking for any signs of threat. Instinctively I looked around, too. I had no way of knowing how well Visser Three’s borrowed Andalite eyes could see in the dark. But for me the darkness was no barrier.

I looked. I didn’t even know what I was looking for. But all I saw were the Hork-Bajir and the Taxxons, the Yeerk ships, silent and dark, and the buildings and forlorn construction equipment of the site.

Then I caught a glimpse of movement. It was in the woods that bordered the construction site. A swift side-to-side movement, just the sort of thing my cat eyes noticed best. But when I stared closer,
I saw no further movement. Probably just another Hork-Bajir patrolling.

Visser Three said.

I craned my head up as well as I could to watch. For a moment, nothing changed. Then, suddenly, Chapman sagged. It was like he was a marionette and someone had cut his strings. He collapsed, straight down. His legs just twisted up under him.

He tried to stand up. But it was as if he didn’t know how to make his legs work. They would jerk and suddenly kick out, but he could not stand. Finally, he gave up.

“Fisher,” he mumbled. “Fisher Hree. Sor … I … sorry. Visher. Visser. Visser Three.”

The real, human Chapman had been out of control of his own body for so long he no longer remembered how to move or speak.

“Visser Three,” he said again. His voice was slurry and strange.

Visser Three snapped.

“Visser Three. You … We had a deal. You know I never wanted to join you. My wife did. But I said no. But … but then my wife … no longer my wife by then, of course.” Suddenly he began to cry. I could see his tears very clearly. “My wife who was
no longer my wife … my wife who was one of your creatures … threatened … threatened to give you my daughter.”

Chapman managed to raise one clumsy hand to his eyes. “I forgive her. She was weak. And you feed on weakness.”

Visser Three said.

A Hork-Bajir moved closer. He muttered something to the Visser, then moved away. I couldn’t hear or understand what the Hork-Bajir had said, but it looked as if he was reminding Visser Three that they shouldn’t hang around too long.

“The point is,” Chapman said, “that I agreed to be made into a host. I agreed to … to …” He looked like he was about to throw up. “I agreed to surrender my freedom. To become a Controller. To accept this filthy thing in my head. To accept your control. I agreed … but only if you would spare my daughter.”

It felt like my heart had stopped beating. Chapman had become a Controller to save Melissa? He had given more than his life to save his daughter?

Visser Three said.

“The girl — Melissa — is no threat. But …”
Chapman struggled to lift himself up once again with clumsy legs and awkward arms. He rose to his knees. Then slowly, slowly, he stood up. He was wobbling and swaying, but he was standing.