Chapter Text
Author's Note: I neither own nor ever will own Animorphs by K.A. Appelgate and Scholastic. (And thank god for that because my mind is a mess and I would do terrible and bizarre things to the canon...) My props and infinite gratitude to AppelGrant for making the books free everywhere and enjoying it so much when we play in their beautiful, terrible world.
I have no idea where I'm going with this or IF I'm going anywhere with it; I guess that's up to whether people like it. There's a conceit in the writing which is my reference to the odd fact of the Animorphs books all apparently being journals even though that never made any sense, but which I had fun with. See if you guess it before I reveal it.
Additional Note: I guess it's more likely that the Visser would assume an Andalite had *morphed* Tobias if he failed here, but I'm going to handwave that for now. XD
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<So...When did you learn of it?>
My name is Tobias. The cold, soundless thought-speech voice belonged to Visser Three, leader of the invasion of our planet by a parasitic race called the Yeerks.
I honestly didn't know what the point of his question was, and I really wasn't feeling it. You see I, Tobias, was having the worst day of my life.
You want me to be straight with you? I'm not sure why I'm writing this either. I guess it's just helping me think through the absolute insanity my life has become.
I had gone to a meeting arranged by the Visser himself, after he discovered to his surprise that I was the son of his old nemesis, the Andalite Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul. The idea was to convince the Visser that it wasn’t worth it to infest me, that I didn't know anything about the war at all and wasn't connected with the Andalite resistance he'd been facing. The problem was that it didn’t work.
You see, I loved my father. I’m sure of it now. I only knew him for about an hour, but it was the most meaningful hour that had ever happened in my entire life.
And so, because for one second one tear dropped down my normally expressionless face, the Visser and his waiting entourage of guards seized me. I am now a prisoner onboard the Blade ship of the most evil creature in all of space. And for once in the entire time my comrades and I have had dealings with him, I have no idea what he wants. None at all.
But explaining that has to start here.
"Just figure it out for yourself," I spat. "Have one of your lieutenants infest me."
<Ah, but I want to hear it from you, boy,> said the Visser, in a tone I couldn't place. <When did you meet them? Was it there, at his landing place? Did you see him?>
I would give him nothing. Absolutely nothing. He'd have to take it from me kicking and screaming. Or, more likely, just screaming. Trapped in my own head. So I said nothing.
<No matter,> said the Visser. <I suppose you will tell me eventually. But...I am curious. You played well. But not good enough. You're experienced. Clever. ...I...> He stopped, suddenly, and held up his hand for his guards to stop. <...I am pleased. Yes. That's it.>
What? What did that even mean? "Pleased about what, the fact that you've got a kid who can't even pass gym?"
<That you are, in every way, his son.>
I didn’t know how to respond to that. Why did the Visser care? He was the same person who, on the same night that I had met him, had eaten my father alive.
If I really thought about it, I realized that he did care. The entire way that the Visser had planned this suggested it. After I contacted DeGroot, Visser Three could have gone, “Better safe than sorry” and just taken me. He already knew that I had no family who cared for me left. What did he have to lose? It would barely even look suspicious. Another no-account kid who’s fallen off the grid. I might even be right back on it again as a Yeerk.
Yet that’s not what had happened. Instead he put on an elaborate show for me and the others just so that he could personally show up and read my father’s will to me. Personally. Even for the purpose of tricking the Andalite bandits (why the Yeerks call them “bandits” I’ll never know) it was too much effort. His whole plan got weirder and weirder the longer I thought about it.
<You haven’t responded,> he said, breaking up my thoughts.
“Because I have nothing to say to you,” I snarled back. “Maybe I am my father’s son, but you’re his murderer.”
He laughed. It wasn’t a good sound. <I did kill your father, yes! And while it was indeed a satisfying end to a long and fruitful relationship, I…> He stopped for a moment, but I could feel emotion in the absence. A vibrating…confusion. Loneliness. <…I suppose I miss him.>
“What?” I barked, unable to contain myself. “What do you mean you miss him?! You killed him! You don’t get to miss people you eat!”
<Well that’s what’s happening, now isn’t it?> He snapped. <I miss him, and as enjoyable as I found it I regret it!> Even he seemed vaguely surprised by what he had said, and his main eyes turned away from me, although his stalk eyes still tracked me from behind.
“You…You regret? Like, at all?” I questioned, in disbelief.
However, we had reached the end of the hall. The Blade ship was more labyrinthine than I had figured, even having been on it before, and this area was more so. There seemed to be dozens of little doors around, all of them labeled with markings in a language I realized I couldn’t read. I’m not sure why, but part of me half expected it all to be in English. This must have been Yeerkish, or something.
One of the guards walked up to the door and waved his hand in front of what looked like a translucent cube. The cube beeped and the door opened, and the guard shoved me inside.
It wasn’t a cell, to my surprise. It was just a normal room, with what seemed to be a bed and a table inside it. There was no question I was a prisoner, but at least I could count down on the morphing timer in relative comfort.
I probably only had minutes left, anyway. Not that the Visser knew that, yet. This wasn’t really how I had pictured the circumstances of remaining human forever, but this was what they were. I would have to accept it.
The Visser stared back at me. I half expected him to scream at me in his usual psychotic rage for making him vulnerable for even a moment, but that wasn’t it at all. <I will not have you infested yet. Instead, you will be made to tell me what you know of the Andalite bandits from your own lips,> he said.
“So you’ll torture me until I tell you?” I said, glumly. I didn’t have a great opinion of my chances. I was pretty sure this guy could torture anyone into saying anything.
<…No. You will simply tell me,> he said.
And with that, he shut the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And this computer, which absurdly he left an access point for.
Now you’re caught up, I guess. I’ll write more entries to the extent that I remain alive and if I feel like it. If you’re the Visser and you’ve gotten bored enough to check what I’m using the access point for, good for you. You’re more curious than I’d figured.
Not that you’ve learned much from it. If you ask about the morph, I have no intention of explaining it, except to say that you already know I am not an Andalite. If you’re anyone else, make of this account what you will.
I’ll be dead soon anyway.