Epicurius posted:

But in addition to all the small objects, there were two much larger things. One was a shiny yellow-painted creation with four black wheels.

Epicurius posted:

Tree Bucket posted:

This was far too much fun to draw.

e: and the worst possible snipe

Comrade Blyatlov posted:

pickin up mad bitches in my fully sick mustang while slicing and dicing gross slugs and sucking down doctor pepper through my feet and a few marly lights

Tree Bucket posted:

Bobulus posted:

Irrationally worried that Elfangor is going to have an adverse reaction to Dr. Pepper. His species lives on water and grass. High fructose corn syrup might gently caress him up...

wizzardstaff posted:

We were somewhere around the Living Hive, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold...

Bobulus posted:

Irrationally worried that Elfangor is going to have an adverse reaction to Dr. Pepper. His species lives on water and grass. High fructose corn syrup might gently caress him up...

rollick posted:

The tone of this book feels different to the mainline series. It almost reads like a self-parody or a fanfiction, in a way, with the excess gore and the cultural easter eggs and the Loren character. Were they deliberately trying to make these ones more xtreme, I wonder?

quote:

All that afternoon I stayed in the horrible, reeking, stifling darkness of that underground cavern. Arbron was there some of the time. But not often. Mostly he was communing with the Living Hive. Making plans.

Arbron had become a general. He was just what the Living Hive needed. He could explain what the Taxxons would find when they erupted into the spaceport. He could explain how to hurt the Yeerks.

I don’t know if he told the Hive how hopeless the task was. I only know that he seemed very alive. Almost on fire.

At last, he came to me. <Elfangor. There is a delicate problem we have to discuss. Alloran and the humans. You know what this will be like. Taxxon against Taxxon-Controller. Taxxon against Hork- Bajir. No one will be safe. From either side.>

<What do you want me to do?>

<If you can, find Alloran and the humans. I know that’s what you’d want to do, anyway. But most importantly, get the Time Matrix safely away. The Living Hive is no more safe from the Time Matrix than any other living thing.>

<I’ll take care of the Time Matrix,> I said.

<You’ll need to take the Jahar. I’ll help get you to it.>

<And then you can leave with me,> I said.

<No, Elfangor. I’m staying here. We’ll lose this battle. But there may be other chances to hurt the Yeerks.>

I didn’t know what to say. I guess I felt like only Arbron could decide for Arbron now. <I’ll … I’ll tell your parents what ->

<No!> he said sharply. <No, Elfangor. Tell them I died in battle. Let them remember me the way I used to be, okay? I don’t want them to remember me like this. I don’t want them picturing me this way.>

<Arbron …> I said, my mind swimming in emotion.

<I have some last-minute planning. We’ve put that yellow machine of yours in one of the tubes. You’ll go last, after all our people have been sent. Drive straight down the tunnel. The tunnel is part of the Hive. It will make sure you get to the right place. And one last thing …>

<Yes?>

<The spaceport will be hell,> he said flatly. <You won’t be able to tell the difference between my Taxxons and Taxxon-Controllers. So don’t hesitate. Do what you have to.>

And then he left. The legs I had cut off were half grown back. But I could still recognize him, moving amongst the other Taxxons.

The launch of the attack was eerie to watch. Taxxons lined up alongside the tunnels. The Living Hive glowed a brighter red, and swiftly, smoothly, the Taxxons shoved through the slits in the tunnels and were blown down the tubes.

They were launched at a rate of one every eight seconds or so, down five separate tubes. It took almost half an hour for all the Taxxons to enter the tubes. And then it was my turn.

quote:

I nosed the yellow Mustang into the living, pulsating gap in the tube. To my amazement, the tube stretched for me and the machine. It flattened down and widened out, leaving just inches of clearance.

I felt the WHOOOOOSH! of air pressure. It blew me down the tube. I gunned the engine and went from zero to two hundred miles per hour in seconds!

There was nothing exhilarating about this. I was blasting down a living tunnel, enclosed on all sides, ducking my head to avoid having my stalk eyes scraped off. The only light came from the machine’s own lights - white, looking ahead, red, looking back.

For long minutes I raced along beneath the surface of the Taxxon world. On my way to a massacre.

And then …

FWOOOOOSH!

I shot into the air.

RrrrrrEEEEEEEEEEEE! The engine screamed as the wheels spun madly in midair.

I burst from the ground, flew through the air, and saw, in flashes of explosion and Dracon-beam blast, a scene no madman could have dreamed.

The machine arced toward the ground.

WHHUUUUMPPPFF!

The front wheels hit, the engine roared, I was banged so badly that my elbow and left foreleg were scraped bloody, and the Mustang dug in and hauled away in an explosion of kicked-up dirt.

Suddenly, a Taxxon right in front of me!

SPLOOOMMMP!

The machine slammed into the Taxxon and burst it open like a bag of garbage!

<Aaaahhhh!> I screamed in sheer horror.

But it was only one small piece of horror in a scene that will be burned on my brain forever.

Taxxon cries!

Hork-Bajir roars!

The TSEEEWW TSEEEWW! of Dracon beams! Scenes of nauseating violence were everywhere! The battle had already raged for half an hour. Half an hour of unarmed Taxxons against bladed Hork-Bajir.

It was a slaughterhouse.

How was I supposed to find the humans amidst that awful battle? How was I even supposed to think?

A huge Hork-Bajir spotted me and began to run for the Mustang. Only when he got close did he cry “Andalite!” in surprise and greedy delight.

He leaped at the moving machine. I spun the steering wheel. The Mustang turned sharply. I gunned the engine! WHUUMPF! I hit the Hork-Bajir in the legs. He cartwheeled over my head and landed in the dirt behind me.

Taxxons! Hork-Bajir! Gedds! All around me! I used the Mustang like a battering ram, mowing down anyone in my way.

The Jahar. All I could do was head for the Jahar!

The lovely ship stood proud above the slaughter. And there, atop the ship’s cradle, clearly silhouetted by the lights, were two strange, alien shapes. Two aliens that walked on two legs alone, without tail.

The humans!

Seething around the base of the ship’s cradle were a hundred Taxxons. All pushing and shoving to squeeze up the narrow ramp that led to the ship itself.

Standing alone on the ramp was a single Taxxon. A single Taxxon with four legs shorter than the rest.

<Arbron!> I screamed, as I slammed the Mustang into the mass of ravening Taxxons.

<Elfangor! I can’t hold them any longer!>

<Are these Taxxon-Controllers? Or are they your soldiers?>

<There’s no difference anymore, Elfangor! Don’t you see? Blood has been spilled. The hunger … the hunger! Stop me, Elfangor! Stop me!>

And with that, Arbron, aristh of the Dome ship StarSword, lost his last shred of control. He turned from facing down the Taxxon mob. He turned and ran for the humans, mouth gaping open.

quote:

<NOOOOOO!> I screamed. I leapt from the machine and plowed into the mass of Taxxon bodies.

My tail whipped the air!

Strike! And push through.

Strike! And push through.

Strike! Strike! Strikestrikestrike!

I reached the ramp and leaped clear over the last Taxxon in my way. <Loren! Run! Arbron!

NOOOOOO!>

I raced up the ramp. Arbron was closing in on the humans.

The human Chapman was free. And it was toward him that Arbron ran. The human Chapman screamed.

Arbron reared back, ready to slam his upper body down on the frail human.

<Aristh Arbron!> I cried. <Aristh Arbron, you will stop! You will do your duty!>

I don’t know what made me say that. I don’t know. I only know that Arbron hesitated. As Chapman cowered, helpless, Arbron remained poised.

Behind me, I saw the Taxxons falling back. And over them climbed and leaped a handful of Hork-Bajir warriors.

Seven feet tall. Blades on their wrists and elbows and knees. Blade horns raked forward from their sleek snake heads. Short, spiked tails twitching. Ripping bird feet clawing at Taxxon flesh to advance.

I realized I knew one of the Hork-Bajir. It was Sub-Visser Seven.

“Ah, so we meet again, Andalite!” he said, sounding delighted. “Elfangor, right? That was the name you yelled so defiantly at me as you escaped. I was so afraid the Taxxons might have gotten to you by now. And I so wanted you all for myself!”

For a moment no one moved. The injured Taxxons withdrew down the ramp to make way for the Hork-Bajir.

I was alone against half a dozen Hork-Bajir. Behind me, Arbron, who still eyed Loren hungrily.

And with them, Chapman. Whose side was Chapman on now? And whose side was Arbron on?

“Surrender, Elfangor,” Sub-Visser Seven practically purred. “I won’t kill you. I’ll just … use you. I’ll leave this crude body and live inside your head. I’ll wrap myself around your smug, arrogant Andalite brain and make you my slave. And with your Andalite morphing power, run the galaxy before I’m done! It’s either that or death, Andalite. There’s no third choice.”

quote:

I saw Arbron turn away from Loren. He came to stand beside me, a massive, ten-foot-long worm. <Guess we’re a long way from the good old StarSword, eh, Elfangor?> he said, with a touch of his old humor. <We are one lost, lonely pair of arisths. Tell the Yeerk scum to dream on, Elfangor. Tell him we are Andalites. We don’t surrender.>

<You heard my friend, Sub-Visser Seven,> I said. <You want me? Come get me.>

In the great stories and legends, that kind of speech always scares the bad guys. In real life it doesn’t work that way.

“Okay,” Sub-Visser Seven said. “I will come get you. Cut him down! Cut him down!” he screamed in sudden rage.

His Hork-Bajir leaped for me. But the ramp was narrow. There was only room for two HorkBajir at a time. Any trained Andalite can handle a Hork-Bajir one-on-one. They’re fast. We’re faster.

SWOOOOOOSH! The first Hork-Bajir swung his wrist blade.

FWAAAPPPP! I struck with my tail, and he no longer had a wrist blade. Or a wrist.

But the second Hork-Bajir shoved past him and got to my left. One of his comrades swung over the railing and leaped onto the platform to our right. And the wounded Hork-Bajir was still dangerous.

The odds were getting worse very quickly. More Hork-Bajir were cramming onto the ramp, anxious to serve their sub-visser.

Battle exploded suddenly in rapid thrusts and slashes. Hork-Bajir blades made the air sing as they whipped their powerful arms and legs at me. Arbron did what he could, but a Taxxon is helpless in a blade fight. The Hork-Bajir just climbed over him to reach me.

“Elfangor! Look out!” Loren screamed.

“Get him! What are you waiting for?” Sub-Visser Seven roared. “He’s just one Andalite!”

I fell back under the pressure. I had no time to think. None. Only time to react. Only time to block deadly blows. I had been cut badly already, and it was only a matter of time.

And then a new Hork-Bajir stepped forward. <So, how are you enjoying the war, Aristh Elfangor?> he asked in Andalite thought-speak.

I was so stunned I almost missed the next blow. War-prince Alloran! In Hork-Bajir morph!

Alloran spun. Before the sub-visser could so much as twitch, Alloran had pressed his wrist blade against the Yeerk’s throat.

<Don’t move, Yeerk. Don’t even breathe,> Alloran said. <Call off your men. Do it, or I’ll laugh when your head goes rolling across the ground.>

“Hold!” the sub-visser cried. “Back away!”

The Hork-Bajir obeyed. They backed away. I panted and gasped for air. I was exhausted. I was bleeding. Loren ran over and pressed her hands against a deep gash in my chest. The pressure slowed the loss of blood.

“You’re still alive!” she said. “I was so worried.”

<Now here’s what we’re going to do,> Alloran said. <The two humans and my two friends and I are going aboard the Jahar. And you, Sub-Visser, are coming with us. Once we’re off the cradle, we’ll toss you back out. How does that plan sound to you, Yeerk?> he demanded, tightening his hold on the sub-visser.

“Do I have a choice?”

<There’s always a choice, Yeerk. I can cut you right out of that Hork-Bajir and feed your impotent slug body to my friend the Taxxon here. That’s one choice. Or you can order your men back down the ramp. All the way down.>

“Whatever became of the Andalite reputation for kindness and gentleness?” the Yeerk mocked.

<What happened? We left that image in the ashes of the Hork-Bajir home world.>

“You were there?”

<I was there. My name is Alloran-Semitur-Corrass. War-prince Alloran.>

For the first time, the sub-visser seemed afraid. His mocking, arrogant attitude seemed to evaporate. He quickly ordered his Hork-Bajir down the ramp.

Together we backed carefully toward the Jahar. Alloran, with the Yeerk sub-visser in his steel grip; Loren, still tending my wound; and Chapman, the treacherous human who had led us all to this terrible mess.

Only Arbron turned away from the open hatch of the Jahar.

<Come with us, Arbron,> I said. <Look around. The free Taxxons have lost. The Living Hive will be destroyed. There’s no future for you here.>

<Elfangor, there’s no future for me anywhere.>

<But you can’t,> I said. <Who’s going to remind me not to be so stiff? Who’s going to laugh at me when I start talking about being a great prince?>

<You go, Elfangor,> Arbron said gently. <Go save the galaxy.>

<Leave him,> Alloran said. <Aristh, I mean, Warrior Arbron is a casualty of war.>

pastor of muppets posted:

welp.

Terror Sweat posted:

How do you think alloran feels knowing the remains of elfangor are just sitting there in his stomach

Remalle posted:

What always bugged me was: when you morph something small, the extra mass gets shoved off to z-space, okay. When you morph something big, are you borrowing the mass of somebody else who's currently morphed small? Or do you keep the same mass and just have the density of styrofoam?

wizzardstaff posted:

They borrow the mass from someone else who's morphing a small animal at the same time. Take a penny, leave a penny.

quote:

We launched the Jahar. There was no one to stop us. The battle still raged, and none of the Yeerks had the presence of mind to come after us. Or so I thought.

Alloran demorphed from his Hork-Bajir body. I was relieved. I guess he saw my expression.

<Did you think I had ended up like Arbron back there? Trapped? A nothlit? No, Aristh Elfangor. I am still myself.>

<I’m glad, sir,> I said.

Sub-Visser Seven stood in a corner, eyeing Alloran as he demorphed and resumed his usual Andalite body. Loren seemed dazed. Even Chapman seemed unusually quiet. No doubt he was afraid of what we would do to him.

He deserved whatever we did to him.

<Your orders, sir?> I asked the prince.

Alloran sneered. <Ah. Now you want orders. When I ordered you to flush those pools full of Yeerks out into space you disobeyed me. But now you want orders. Now you want to be told what to do.>

I was too tired to be angry. I was even too tired to consider how my earlier refusal to follow orders would probably destroy my career. What was I going to do? Explain to some military tribunal that I, the insignificant aristh, had thought Alloran’s order immoral?

quote:

<Sir, the Time Matrix is ->

<Silence, you young fool!> Alloran snapped angrily. He glared at me, enraged. <We don’t have time for that yet. No, first we have to take care of the business you kept me from taking care of. That Taxxon ship full of Yeerks is still in its cradle. Still filled with Yeerk slugs. What do you think I’ve been doing the last day and a half? I’ve been hiding in shadows, morphing and demorphing, watching that ship.>

<Prince Alloran, is that really the most important thing to do?>

For the first time since he had demorphed, he turned to face me. He glared at me with his main eyes. And that’s when I saw the look. That’s when I saw the rage. The mad rage.

<The most important thing in war is to destroy your enemies, Aristh Elfangor. Nothing is more important than destroying your enemies. Do you understand?>

He turned his stalk eyes toward the sub-visser. <You understand, don’t you? You Yeerks understand.>

“You said you would let me go!” the sub-visser cried.

<And so I will,> Alloran said. <Open the hatch, Aristh Elfangor. The sub-visser is going to see if that Hork-Bajir body of his can fly!>

quote:

The sub-visser tensed up. He was not going to get pushed out of a spaceship without a fight. His Hork-Bajir muscles bunched and rippled.

He seemed to glance at Chapman. And I swear … but, no, I had to be imagining things. It’s just that Chapman seemed to shake his head, almost invisibly.

The sub-visser’s face glazed over. His eyes went dead. He relaxed his muscles.

<Slow to dead stop,> Alloran ordered. <Altitude?>

<Fifteen thousand feet,> I said dully. <We are still within the atmosphere. Air speed is now at dead stop.>

<Dead stop,> Alloran said. <Appropriate. Now open the hatch.>

What could I do? I was just an aristh. I had already defied Alloran once. If I defied him again …He was mad. Insane.

What could I do?

I opened the hatch. Warm Taxxon air blew in, strange in the enclosed environment. It ruffled Loren’s golden hair.

<Get out, Yeerk,> Alloran said to Sub-Visser Seven.

I closed my main eyes. I kept my stalk eyes focused on my instruments. I could not look.

<Close the hatch,> Alloran said a few seconds later.

I dared to look. The sub-visser was gone. I looked down at the exterior display screens. A tiny figure fell through the clouds. I looked away.

<Now we go back and fry that transport ship,> Alloran said briskly. <Good to see you’ve grown up a little, Aristh Elfangor. Take us back over the southeastern corner of the spaceport. Maintain present altitude. Then we’ll go pick up our missing Time Matrix, eh?>

He seemed cheerful. As if, for a moment at least, the madness were past. But I knew it wasn’t over. We didn’t need to destroy the Yeerks in those transport pools. We needed to secure the Time Matrix.

But I had given up arguing. I was tired. I was scared. I was sick from thinking of Arbron. I wanted to sleep and sleep and sleep, and not wake up till I was home on my own grass, under my own trees.

I saw Loren watching me. She seemed worried. Concerned. Who wouldn’t be? And yet …

Chapman was watching, too. He seemed tense. Understandable. And yet …

<What made you decide to come with us?> I asked Chapman. <Do you expect mercy from us? You betrayed us. You betrayed your fellow human. You’ve told the Yeerks about Earth. You may have betrayed your entire species.>

He shrugged. “Not my fault, though, is it? I was on Earth, minding my own business. I didn’t ask to be kidnapped by the Skrit Na. I didn’t ask to be dragged halfway across the galaxy by you Andalites. I was just trying to protect myself.”

<By making deals with the Yeerks?> Alloran laughed. <The Yeerks don’t make deals. They enslave.>

“Yeah, I guess that’s what I realized. After a while,” Chapman said. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m just a dumb human kid, okay? Give me a break.”

<We are coming back over the spaceport,> I announced. <There is a lot of smoke. But you should still be able to get a good targeting lock with the shredder.>

Alloran didn’t answer. He just stared at the display screen. At full magnification we could see the wormlike Taxxons below. We could easily see the ships, some burning from the battle, some tilted wildly over.

The Living Hive had done damage to the Yeerks. But we could also see platoons of Hork-Bajir rounding up Taxxons. And other Taxxons were busily feeding …

Somewhere down there was Arbron.
Alloran aimed the shredder. He aimed it carefully, taking his time. He focused it on the transport ship that contained thousands of helpless Yeerk slugs.

<Fire, Aristh Elfangor,> he said.

<What?>

<I said fire. Fry those Yeerks. You let them live, now you finish them. Undo your mistake, and no one will ever have to know about your earlier cowardice.>

My finger reached for the firing pad.

<Do it, Elfangor,> Alloran hissed.

quote:

My finger hovered above the pad. It was war. In war, you destroyed your enemies. Alloran was my prince. You obeyed your prince.

But ten thousand defenseless Yeerks? With one movement of my finger?

No.

I pulled my hand away, and in a blur of motion I felt Alloran’s tail blade press against my throat. <You think you can fight a clean war, Elfangor? Is that what you think? Or are you one of those who are happy enough when someone like me does the dirty work for you?>

<They are defenseless,> I said as calmly as I could.

<They are the enemy. Hypocrites! You’re all hypocrites! We lost the Hork-Bajir war because of weak, moralizing fools like you! Because of fools like you, I am disgraced and shunned and sent off on trivial errands with nothing but arisths under my command.>

<War-prince Alloran, I honor you, but ->

<What is the difference how you destroy the enemy?> Alloran demanded.

I had no idea what he was talking about anymore. He was off somewhere in his own head. Lost in his own memories.

<What does it matter if you kill them with a tail blade or a shredder or a quantum virus?>

Quantum virus? No. No. Even after all the horror I had seen, I was shocked. <You … you used a quantum virus? You used a quantum virus on the Hork-Bajir world?>

A quantum virus is a sort of disease of space-time. You see, it slowly breaks down the force that holds subatomic particles together. It slowly disintegrates whatever it affects. Living creatures affected with a quantum virus find their very molecules breaking down. It can take days, weeks of
agony. That was Alloran’s secret. That was his disgrace. The Yeerks had accused us of using a quantum virus against them. We had denied it. Every Andalite believed it was just another filthy Yeerk lie.

quote:

Alloran stared at me. <I cannot have a weak, cowardly fool like you messing up ->

I saw it out of the corner of my stalk eyes. A sudden movement. Not fast, but unexpected.

Chapman!

He leaped at Alloran and swung one of his strong human hands. With tightly clenched fingers he hit Alloran on the side of his head. Alloran’s head snapped back. More in surprise than pain. But it was enough. I swung my tail hard and fast. I turned the blade away and slammed Alloran’s head with
every ounce of power I had.

He dropped like a stone. He collapsed to the deck in a heap. And I saw triumph on Chapman’s face. Triumph.

I should have known then. I should have realized.

Instead, I went to the medical kit and with shaking hands pulled out a tranquilizer hypo. I emptied it into my mad prince. It would keep him down for hours.

“Now what?” Chapman demanded.

<Now what?!> I shrieked. <Now what? I just knocked out my own prince!> I was sick. Sick down to my bones. But there was no one else to turn to. No one else to make decisions. As stupid as I had been, it was still up to me.

<We have something to pick up,> I said, forcing calm into my thought-speak voice. <Then we are getting as far from this evil place as this ship will go!>

Chapman nodded, as if satisfied.

Loren came over. She put her soft human hand on my chest wound. It had begun to scab over but the exertion of knocking Alloran out had opened the wound again. She tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of one of her artificial skins. She tied it around my chest to protect the wound.

<Thank you,> I said.

“Is life always this insane for you space cadets?”

<Oh, yes,> I said bitterly. <Infiltrate the Taxxon home world, help inspire a Taxxon civil war, mutiny against my prince, and locate the Time Matrix, all in the company of a pair of strange, twolegged aliens … . Business as usual.>

I was busy watching the ground below, looking for the place where I had crashed the Skrit Na ship. But I saw Loren’s smile.

“Hey. You made a joke. I didn’t think you did humor, Elfangor.”

<When the world goes mad, what else can you do?> I thought of Arbron. Still making little jokes, even when his life was a wreck. <I wonder if Arbron knew the world was mad?>

Loren just looked sad. But then she forced a smile again. “Speaking of crazy … did I see you driving up in a bright yellow Mustang back there?”

<It was a wonderful machine. Primitive, but strangely enjoyable.>

I cut thrust and peered closely into the screen. <There it is. We’re going down. I need to clear away the wreckage so the tractor beam can grab the Time Matrix.>

I landed the Jahar in the narrow valley, a few feet away from the wreckage of the Skrit Na ship.

I grabbed a handheld shredder, opened the hatch, and hurried outside.

It took several minutes to burn away the wreckage of the Skrit Na ship and reveal the Time Matrix.

It was for this that so much horror had occurred.

For this most powerful of all weapons.

It sat there amidst the wreckage, so harmless-looking. If the Yeerks had known this was here, they would have stopped at nothing to get it.

It was lucky Loren never told them while they held her captive. Lucky that Chapman never told them.

Lucky.

And lucky that I had been able to hold off the Hork-Bajir. And lucky that we had been able to get away from the spaceport without being pursued.

More luck.

Too much luck.

I really was a fool. I felt a cold shiver crawl up my spine.

I was behind the Time Matrix, hidden from the Jahar. And suddenly, I knew what was happening back inside the Jahar while I worked to free the Time Matrix. And I knew what I would see when I walked back around that off-white globe.

Trembling with despair and exhaustion, I set the shredder for its next to lowest setting. I would have to duplicate Arbron’s feat: three quick shots. Yes. Three.

I sucked in deep breaths, and then I bolted at top speed.

I leaped from behind the Time Matrix. Loren, raising a Dracon beam in her hand!

I fired!

She dropped, twitching wildly from the energy pulse.

TSSSEEEWWWW!

Chapman fired! But he was weak and shaky from what he had just endured.

I fired! The human dropped to the dirt.

But there was one more left. I knew it. I knew, and I knew that I had very little time.

Sudden movement! I spun and fired! Missed! No, not a complete miss. I had stunned his right arm. The hand holding the Dracon beam dropped, useless.

He stood there, rage on his face. Alloran. War-prince Alloran-Semitur-Corrass. But not really Alloran anymore. For the rest of my life I would remember that moment. The moment when I looked for the first time, upon the abomination.

You see, Alloran was no longer Alloran.

<Very good, Aristh Elfangor. It took you a while, but you figured it out in the end.>

<Sub-Visser Seven,> I said.

<Yes, but not for long. The Yeerk who made the first Andalite-Controller? The Yeerk who captured the fabled Time Matrix? I’d say I can count on a major promotion. Wouldn’t you?>

freebooter posted:

Am I the only one confused about the logistics here?

edit - there must be at least three Yeerks, and I guess maybe Chapman was already infested before they took off? But there was also clearly already a Yeerk inside Visser Three's old host, just not him... so when did the transfer occur? Or was Chapman walking around with a spare in his pocket?

Epicurius posted:

It'll be explained in the next chapter, but if you want spoilers....

There were 3 Yeerks...one in Loren, one in the Hork-Bajir, and one in Chapman. Visser Three was in Chapman, an unknown Yeerk was in Loren, and a Yeerk pretending to be Visser Three was in the Hork-Bajir. Hork-Bajir goes out the window. Visser Three/Chapman knocks out Alloran, and then, when Elfangor isn't paying attention, transfers to Alloran. Chapman isn't a host when Elfangor shoots him. He's just a traitor.

Comrade Blyatlov posted:

ALLORAN WAS RIGHT

ELFANGOR WAS WRONG