Ussom 6341 had been on the fast track, rising quickly through the yeerk ranks. Then he had been put in charge of the Hespkiln mission and everything had fallen apart. The mission had been a horrible and embarrassing failure. Technically Ussom hadn't had anything to do with the mission's failure but that hadn't mattered when the higher-ups found themselves in need of a scapegoat. There had been a trial and he had been reassigned to a new host. They'd actually tried to pretend like it was a promotion, but Ussom was not fooled. He knew that each of the dozens of Hork-Bajir warriors that made up his "security detail" had been given strict instructions to assassinate him and his host should a rescue be attempted. A fate which would actually be preferable to the kadrona-starvation that he would face should a rescue attempt actually succeed, and there was every possibility that it would despite the impossible security he was surrounded with. His host's son had found ways around such measures before.
Ussom may have lost rank and power but there was still one body that moved at his slightest whim and one mind that cringed beneath his might. He reached into his host's mind and found the source of her greatest shame
(You call yourself a mother, your son was fighting a war right under your nose and you didn't even notice! He came home after risking life and limb to keep you safe and you gave him chores to do! You punished him for failing tests and called yourself a good mother. You didn't even notice all those times he snuck out some mother you were.)
Ussom waited smugly for the hurt and guilt he was sure would come, but they didn't come. Or more accurately they did come but they were merely undercurrents completely insignificant compared to the tidal wave of pride emanating from his host.
(Yes, my son fights, my son battles and I failed to notice but in case you haven't noticed yeerk my son wins. Your pathetic little race is doomed and it will be my son who destroys you. The entire Yeerk Empire quakes in fear of my son. So go ahead and play your little mind games because in the end you will lose.)
Ussom switched tactics to keep his slave from realizing how the truth in her words had shaken him.
(and Tom, your eldest is a slave, a prisoner in his own head. He sat at your table and you fed him and engaged in small talk, you treated him like a son but it wasn't your son he was one of us, a yeerk. Every smile, every "I love you" was an act. Still, I must admit you did a good job raising him, your "son" is a valuable citizen of the empire. )
Ussom's voice was full of sarcasm, he waited for the hurt and this time it came but, to his annoyance, her confidence was not shaken.
(My poor Tom.) her voice was filled with grief, (But my son's suffering will be nothing compared to the suffering of that vile thing inhabiting his head. Jake will save his brother. Even your great Visser Three cannot defeat my son, the leader of the Animorphs.)
Ussom was confused. His host had been filled will pain, grief and shame, for weeks where had these new emotions come from? How could he not have noticed them building?
Ussom had only ever had hork-bajir hosts before, their simple minds were nothing compared to the complexities of a human mind.
Jean Berenson no longer controlled her body but she still controlled that one tiny portion of her brain capable of free will and emotion. That tiny portion was filled to the brim with so much emotion that it would have made her stomach clench and eyes water if she still had control of them but she had carefully selected which emotions to bring forth and which to repress. She would torment her captor. She would not be crushed. She would be brave and fight like her son. She would teach this yeerk that this was not his Kandrona soaked home planet. This was Earth, home of the fabled mother bear and she would teach him that a mother tiger can be terrifying too.
Thank you for reading. Please Review. Pretty Please.