The shuttle, a borrowed Bug fighter rather than the specialized transports they have for larger crews, is far more spacious than Aftran remembers. Even if she reached out with the hands of this new body, she wouldn't even come close to touching the curved ceiling above. Before, her claws would have easily scratched the roof of the fighter, and it would have been challenging to keep her tail from bumping the red-haired Arress as he skitters past her to the pilot seat. Now, even with three other human controllers settling into position near to her, the chance of accidently cutting open any one of them who move too close is entirely absent.

Because she is in a human body. A short human body barely more than half of the height of a hork bajir and with skin that is far, far softer.

She swallows, the saliva produced from the glands in her mouth doing little to ease the dryness coating her throat. It doesn't matter that this juvenile body has weaker limbs and bare, bladeless skin. What difference would it make if she showed up to this meeting with Visser Three wielding her curved talons and blade covered arms? She would be no safer than she is now as this small, defenseless host.

"Iniss one-seven-four." Iniss 226's voice draws Aftran's attention back to the others...and to the way that her new arms are wrapped around her body. Another instinctive nervous tic of the host, one that clearly broadcasts Aftran's own internal weakness to her fellow yeerks.

Her hands drop to her side even though the others, both Iniss's at least, must have seen and understood what her body gave away. Strange warmth crawls up the body's cheeks and Aftran clenches her fists so as not to press her hands to her face. Please for the dark of Madra, let there be no external signs of this body's emotional temperature changes.

"There's been a change in tonight's plans." Iniss 226 says without even looking Aftran's way at all. "The Visser or myself will brief you once Aftran nine-four-two is done giving her report."

Iniss one-seven-four nods, her human green eyes glancing once to Aftran before looking back to their superior. "Understood, sir."

"Both you and Arress will wait within this fighter to be summoned." As Iniss speaks, the viewscreen of the Bug fighter fills up with the blue of this planet's sky as they zip out the exit of one of the tunnels. "Once you've received your new orders, he will be your temporary assistant in conveying information to our soldiers. The Andalites have most likely infiltrated our transmissions, so under no circumstances are you to communicate critical intel over any channel. Even ones you believe are secure."

"Yes, sir." The hitch to the head of security's breath reaches Aftran's ears, but her eyes are rivetted on the heated orange flowing over the viewscreen. It takes a minute, maybe two, for the flow to settle into the dark expanse of space as they leave the Earth's atmosphere.

Aftran looks away. With the colors dancing over the viewscreen gone, the pitch-black darkness draws no desire from her to stare into it. She does not possess this host's eyes just to take in the same darkness that exists in Aftran's blind, natural state.

Both Inisses are looking at her. The security head watches with the dilation of pupils that show just how terrified she is that the Andalites have somehow hacked their way into the Empire's systems. Iniss 226's expression gives away nothing.

It takes several pulses in the veins of her host's neck before Iniss looks away. The silence settling as the body's quick heartbeat refuses to.

"Oh uh, sir?" Arress asks after minutes have passed. "They're hailing us. What do you want me to say?"

"Open the communication channel and video feed." Iniss states, walking the few feet it takes to stand in front of the pilot's viewscreen. The screen itself flashes to life revealing one of the taxxon crew members. The pale yellow of its body the same shade as a bled-out hork bajir.

"Screessishh. Seesss." The high-pitched hiss of the taxxon lacks the meaning that Aftran should understand. Panic rises up only for a realization to pull it back down to the lower level fear that had come with this host. This human is a new body; of course it lacks the translator implants that all controllers have.

"This is Iniss two-two-six."

"Screcc scriss." The taxxon's red gelatinous eyes glimmer with the reflection of its own screen.

"What sort of question is that? I'm here to finish my report with Visser Three as scheduled." The lie comes out harshly as though the taxxon truly is a fool for forgetting something so important.

"SCREEEE." The taxxon lurches back, it's yellow flesh rippling with the motion.

"I don't have time for this incompetence. Alert the Visser that I've arrived." The screen flickers off as the taxxon disappears, no doubt scrambling through the Pool Ships networks to connect to the Visser's personal console.

"Wow, I don't think he realized you never asked his name." Arress mutters, leaning away from Iniss when he turns his attention to him. "Cause, you know, when we're in trouble you guys always go 'Name and designation.' and stuff..." Arress trails off as Iniss stares down at him.

"Keep your mouth shut unless ordered to speak. I also don't have the time to explain to Effilit the loss of one of his engineers to the Visser's intolerance." Iniss turns away. His human mouth a thin line as he walks to where the hatch sits invisible and closed. Behind him, the darkness of space glimmers with a slice of color as one of the ports into the Pool ship's docking bay slips open.

With the exterior of the Pool ship still cloaked from most light-detecting devices and organic eyes, the visible entry point into its docking bay floats as a small nick in the blackness of space. The nick grows, spreading over the viewscreen as their Bug fighter speeds in. The grey metal of the interior walls of the docking bay glow under the rows of lights as their ship settles into the few available spots. Dozens of other Bug fighters sit in rows around them. The hulking hull of two supply ships rise visibly over them all from their parking spaces a quarter mile away.

Even in her larger hork bajir body, the docking bay dwarfed her in its cavernous space large enough to contain much of the human city far below.

The fighter's hatch drops open; Iniss already moving forward as the noises of the bay slam through. As Aftran rushes behind her superior, scores of fellow hork bajir and taxxon controllers scamper by, checking and double checking the flight engines and weapons systems of the fighters around them.

No glitch must be allowed to lurk in the Bug fighters' systems. Not now with the battle between them and the Andalites looming closer and closer.

With the urgency speeding the Pool ship's crew along, none of them have time to gawk at Aftran as she follows Iniss through the massive area.

Rather than heading to the corridors leading away from the bay, Iniss leads them past the lines of fighters to the vast area left open for when they begin to mine this solar system's resources in earnest and build a proper fleet for their coming invasion of the Andalite homeworld.

Instead of being devoid of any ships like always, one waits alone. Only a thousand steps away, the immobile wings of the Blade ship curve along its side in the shape of ax heads.

The black top of the Blade ship catches Aftran's gaze as they move closer. The overhead light refuses to reflect off the ship's metal properly, leaving the impression that the same darkness pressing down from the outside of the Pool ship stretches over the Visser's own vessel.

The human heart in Aftran's chest throbs faster than her hork bajir one ever has.

When they are only a few yards away, the lower side of the ship parts as easily as sliced skin, opening to reveal the interior. As they step onboard, the pale lights along the bottom of the black steel walls lead them deep into the ship.

Few crew members pass through the corridor, and the hork bajir that do nod at Iniss as he walks by. The taxxons merely rush past, as a pause would only signify the hunger they feel at the easy prey unarmed humans make.

After moments have creeped by, Iniss stops in front of a sealed door. Unmarked in any notable way except by the thin red border that Aftran shudders at the sight of. A pressure exerts itself down upon her. Watchful malice poised to strike even through the steel walls separating them.

Silently, the door to Visser Three's personal quarters slides open. He waits for them in the very center. The tail of the andalite body that he controls lingers high in the air above his back; its dark, muscled length half curved so as to easily strike forward past his own head and through anyone else's. The blade on its end far more than sharp enough to cut through the flesh and past the bone.

The rest of his body contrasts its powerful lethality with delicacy. Blue fur, dappled with the camouflage patterns of a prey species, covers a slender form designed to speed through plains and meadows.

His arms, lean with muscle but weaker than even Aftran's new limbs, cross loosely in front of his chest while his front, left hoof scuffs once at the floor. Three of his eyes observe them, his large main set narrow in contempt, as the small eye perched on the end of the left, thin stalk sprouting from his head turns to examine his own blade gleaming behind his shoulder.

"I presume you have a good reason for this 'scheduled' meeting." The Visser's words curl with deceptive calmness in Aftran's head while the green eyes in his mouthless face glint with irritation.

"Sir, we believe that this host," Iniss tilts his head towards Aftran, "and Temrash have experienced a sario rip. According to Aftran nine-four-two, her investigations of this host's memories reveal the belief that our Madra Prime Pool was completely destroyed."

Ordinary silence has weight, the telepathic wave that rolls off Visser Three rips a gasp out of Aftran's mouth as she staggers from the pressure in her head.

Iniss merely winces.

"I see." Visser Three steps forward, his hooves clinking softly against the floor. "And where exactly is Temrash? It seems prudent that he'd be here to help explain this sario rip." The wordless hiss scrapes along Aftran's insides even as she forces herself to straighten.

"He's displaying the symptoms of severe kandrona starvation with sporadic host take-over. Effilit's taken him to feed, so I assume he'll be up here within a few hours if he survives." Iniss says, the sweat sliding down his expressionless face.

The stalk eye that had been focused on the blade rotates forward. All four eyes of the Visser's stare down Iniss before shifting to Aftran.

"You, Guard. Explain now. I want every detail of your host's little trip."

"There's nothing!" Aftran blurts out. "She just knows that the Pool was destroyed. There isn't any details. There's nothing there at all."

The silence of an explosion through space flashes through Aftran.

"Nothing? You. A yeerk found nothing in their host's head. Surely, I misheard you. Is this your first human host? Perhaps you meant to say something else, their language is quite different from our other slaves."

He doesn't believe that. From the tail drawing back to the glittering green malice in his eyes, its so very clear he doesn't believe that.

"I can't get to—I can't get out. Once I look, she doesn't let me go and I fall. There's nothing there to hold onto, just rootless shards that lead nowhere." The words tumble out. Maybe, maybe they're enough to keep her alive. "Temrash had the same problem. Whenever he tried to access something from his host, he lost control."

The tail twitches and stills. "Really? How intriguing. Why don't you show me what you mean."

"Sir?" Aftran whispers.

"Go on, look into your host's memories again. Maybe it'll work this time."

With the Visser's presence weighing her down, Aftran sinks back along the trail of the unconscious human's thoughts. The certainty that the Pool's gone draws her back, fractures along the line of reasoning leading up to that conclusion. The Pool is gone, empty, lost because. To, who. Who?

The absence of the who and the why and the how swirl through Aftran as—

Corroded steel punctures her mind, ripping her out of the memories spiral. The air rushes down her lungs as Aftran gasps. The sharp tip of Visser Three's tail rests under her chin and right against her neck.

He had struck right for her neck and Aftran didn't even notice, not until his telepathic attack smacked her right out of her host's fractured mind.

The lingering rust of the Visser's presence in her head withdraws as his voice hums curiously in her head and the breath stalls in her throat. "How interesting."