Okay just updated the chapter a little bit so it isnt quite the same as the Host

Sorry I put "Ians" last planet as the See-Weeds but I wanted it to be the Singing world

I do not own the Host or characters

CHAPTER 2

Overheard

The voices were soft and close and, though I was only now aware of them, apparently in the middle of a murmured conversation.

"I'm afraid it's too much for him," one said. The voice was soft but deep, male. "Too much for anyone. Such violence!" The tone spoke of revulsion.

"He screamed only once. Males here are particually strong," said a higher, reedy, female voice, pointing this out with a hint of glee, as if she were winning an argument.

"I know," the man admitted. "He is very strong. Others have had much more trauma, with much less cause."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, just as I told you."

"Maybe you missed your Calling." There was an edge to the man's voice. Sarcasm, my memory named it. "Perhaps you were meant to be a Healer, like me."

The woman made a sound of amusement. Laughter. "I doubt that. We Seekers prefer a different sort of diagnosis."
My body knew this word, this title: Seeker. It sent a shudder of fear down my spine and fire through my veins. A leftover reaction. Of course, I had no reason to fear or hate Seekers.
"I sometimes wonder if the infection of humanity touches those in your profession," the man mused, his voice still sour with annoyance. "Violence is part of your life choice. Does enough of your body's native temperament linger to give you enjoyment of the horror?"
I was surprised at his accusation, at his tone. This discussion was almost like... an argument. Something my host was familiar with but that I'd never experienced.
The woman was defensive. "We do not choose violence. We face it when we must. And it's a good thing for the rest of you that some of us are strong enough for the unpleasantness. Your peace would be shattered without our work."
"Once upon a time. Your vocation will soon be obsolete, I think."
"The error of that statement lies on the bed there."
"One human man, alone and unarmed! Yes, quite a threat to our peace."
The woman breathed out heavily. A sigh. "Human men are the most violent of the species. But where did he come from? How did he appear in the middle of Chicago, a city long since civilized, hundreds of miles from any trace of rebel activity? Did he manage it alone?"
She listed the questions without seeming to seek an answer, as if she had already voiced them many times.
"That's your problem, not mine," the man said. "My job is to help this soul adapt himself to his new host without unnecessary pain or trauma. And you are here to interfere with my job."

Still slowly surfacing, acclimating myself to this new world of senses, I understood only now that I was the subject of the conversation. I was the soul they spoke of. It was a new connotation to the word, a word that had meant many other things to my host. On every planet we took a different name. Soul. I suppose it was an apt description. The unseen force that guides the body. I do not remember being a soul before.
"The answers to my questions matter as much as your responsibilities to the soul."
"That's debatable."
There was the sound of movement, and her voice was suddenly a whisper. "When will he become responsive? The sedation must be about to wear off."
"When he's ready. Leave him be. He deserves to handle the situation however he finds most comfortable. Imagine the shock of his awakening-inside a rebel host injured to the point of death in the escape attempt! No one should have to endure such trauma in times of peace!" His voice rose with the increase of emotion.
"He is strong." The woman's tone was reassuring now. "See how well he did with the first memory, the worst memory. Whatever he expected, he handled this."
"Why should he have to?" the man muttered, but he didn't seem to expect an answer.

The woman answered anyway. "If we're to get the information we need -"
"Need being your word. I would choose the term want. "
"Then someone must take on the unpleasantness," she continued as if he had not interrupted. "And I think, from all I know of this one, he would accept the challenge if there had been any way to ask him. What do you call him?"

The man didn't speak for a long moment. The woman waited.
"We will ask him," he finally and unwillingly answered.
"Fine," she said. "I don't have any official statistics, but he has to be one of the very few, if not the only one, who has wandered so far. Yes, we'll wait until he chooses a new name for himself."
He said nothing.

"Of course, he may assume the host's name... We found no matches on record for the fingerprints or retinal scan. I can't tell you what that name was."
"He won't take the human name," the man muttered.
Her response was conciliatory. "Everyone finds comfort their own way."
"This wanderer will need more comfort than most, thanks to your style of Seeking."

There were sharp sounds-footsteps, staccato against a hard floor. When she spoke again, the woman's voice was across the room from the man.
"You would have reacted poorly to the early days of this occupation," she said.
"Perhaps you react poorly to peace."

The woman laughed, but the sound was false-there was no real amusement. My mind seemed well adapted to inferring the true meanings from tones and inflections.

"You do not have a clear perception of what my Calling entails. Long hours hunched over files and maps. Mostly desk work. Not very often the conflict or violence you seem to think it is."
"Ten days ago you were armed with killing weapons, running this body down."
"The exception, I assure you, not the rule. Do not forget, the weapons that disgust you are turned on our kind wherever we Seekers have not been vigilant enough. The humans kill us happily whenever they have the ability to do so. Those whose lives have been touched by the hostility see us as heroes."
"You speak as if a war were raging."

"To the remains of the human race, one is."
These words were strong in my ears. My body reacted to them; I felt my breathing speed, heard the sound of my heart pumping louder than was usual. Beside the bed I lay on, a machine registered the increases with a muted beeping. The Healer and the Seeker were too involved in their disagreement to notice.
"But one that even they must realize is long lost. They are outnumbered by what? A million to one? I imagine you would know."
"We estimate the odds are quite a bit higher in our favor," she admitted grudgingly.
The Healer appeared to be content to let his side of the disagreement rest with that information. It was quiet for a moment.

I used the empty time to evaluate my situation. Much was obvious. I was in a Healing facility, recovering from an unusually traumatic insertion. I was sure the body that hosted me had been fully healed before it was given to me. A damaged host would have been disposed of.

I do not remember though asking to come here. The last thing I remember was wanting to die. I wanted my last host to serve as my final one. Why am I here inside of a new host? I did not choose to be sent here. I don't want to be a murderer anymore. The planet called Earth was as peaceful and serene as it looked from space, invitingly green and blue, wreathed in its harmless white vapors. As was the way of the soul, harmony was universal now. We do not deserve to be on this planet.

The verbal dissension between the Healer and the Seeker was out of character. Strangely aggressive for our kind. It made me wonder. Could they be true, the whispered rumors that had undulated like waves through the thoughts of the... of the...

I was distracted, trying to find the name for my last host species. We'd had a name, I knew that. But, no longer connected to that host, I could not remember the word. We'd used much simpler language than this, a silent language of thought that connected us all into one great mind. A necessary convenience when one was rooted forever into the wet black soil.

I could describe that species in my new human language. We lived in the trees. Because we have no eyes there really isnt much to describe us other than as Bats, although I do not think we resemble the bats here. We could fly, I loved that the most. The Bats communicate with music and live their lives filled with singing and harmony. So, while sight is lost, it is replaced by the incredible beauty of song. The only silence is when a Bat grieves. Only when their need for song is greater than the pain of loss do they return to their kind and sing again.

I could describe us, but I could not name us exactly. I sighed for the lost knowledge, and then returned my ponderings to what I'd overheard.
Souls did not, as a rule, speak anything but the truth. Seekers, of course, had the requirements of their Calling, but between souls there was never reason for a lie. With my last species' language of thought, it would have been impossible to lie, even had we wanted to. However, anchored as we were, we told ourselves stories to alleviate the boredom. Storytelling was the most honored of all talents, for it benefited everyone. Sometimes, fact mixed with fiction so thoroughly that, though no lies were told, it was hard to remember what was strictly true.

When they thought of the new planet-Earth, so dry, so varied, and filled with such violent, destructive denizens they could barely imagine them-our horror was sometimes overshadowed by our excitement. Stories spun themselves quickly around the thrilling new subject. The wars-wars! our kind having to fight!-were first reported accurately and then embellished and fictionalized.

But there were whispers of this: of human hosts so strong that the souls were forced to abandon them. Hosts whose minds could not be completely suppressed. Souls who took on the personality of the body, rather than the other way around. Stories. Wild rumors. Madness.
But that seemed almost to be the Healer's accusation...

I dismissed the thought. The more likely meaning of his censure was the distaste most of us felt for the Seeker's Calling. Who would choose a life of conflict and pursuit? Who would be attracted to the chore of tracking down unwilling hosts and capturing them? Who would have the stomach to face the violence of this particular species, the hostile humans who killed so easily, so thoughtlessly? Here, on this planet, the Seekers had become practically a... militia-my new brain supplied the term for the unfamiliar concept. Most believed that only the least civilized souls, the least evolved, the lesser among us, would be drawn to the path of Seeker.

Still, on Earth the Seekers had gained new status. Never before had an occupation gone so awry. Never before had it turned into a fierce and bloody battle. Never before had the lives of so many souls been sacrificed. The Seekers stood as a mighty shield, and the souls of this world were thrice-over indebted to them: for the safety they had carved out of the mayhem, for the risk of the final death that they faced willingly every day, and for the new bodies they continued to provide.
Now that the danger was virtually past, it appeared the gratitude was fading. And, for this Seeker at least, the change was not a pleasant one.
It was easy to imagine what her questions for me would be. Though the Healer was trying to buy me time to adjust to my new body, I knew I would do my best to not help the Seeker. She would not learn about the humans my host knew or loved. They would not be murdered.

So I took a deep breath to prepare myself. The monitor registered the movement. I knew I was stalling a bit. I hated to admit it, but I was afraid. I was afraid of the voice I'd heard so loudly in my head. But he was silent now. He was just a memory, too.

I should not have been afraid but I am.

With another deep breath, I delved into the memories that frightened me, faced them head-on with my teeth locked together.

I could skip past the end-it didn't overwhelm me now. In fast-forward, I ran through the dark again, wincing, trying not to feel. It was over quickly.

Once I was through that barrier, it wasn't hard to float through less-alarming things and places, skimming for the basic information I wanted. I saw how he'd come to this cold city, driving by night in a stolen car chosen for its nondescript appearance. He'd walked through the streets of Chicago in darkness, shivering beneath his coat.

He was doing his own seeking. There were others like him here, or so he hoped. One in particular. A friend... no, family. Not a cousin... a sister. The words came slower and slower, and at first I did not understand why. Was this forgotten? Lost in the trauma of an almost death? Was I still sluggish from unconsciousness? I struggled to think clearly. This sensation was unfamiliar. Was my body still sedated? I felt alert enough, but my mind labored unsuccessfully for the answers I wanted.

I tried another avenue of searching, hoping for clearer responses. What was his goal? He would find...Jessica-I fished out the name-and they would...

I hit a wall.

It was a blank, a nothing. I tried to circle around it, but I couldn't find the edges of the void. It was as if the information I sought had been erased.

As if this brain had been damaged.

Anger flashed through me, hot and wild. I gasped in surprise at the unexpected reaction. I'd heard of the emotional instability of these human bodies, but this was beyond my ability to anticipate. In eight full lives, I'd never had an emotion touch me with such force.

I felt the blood pulse through my neck, pounding behind my ears. My hands tightened into fists.

The machines beside me reported the acceleration of my heartbeats. There was a reaction in the room: the sharp tap of the Seeker's shoes approached me, mingled with a quieter shuffle that must have been the Healer.

"Welcome to Earth," the female voice said.

CHAPTER 3

Resisted

"He might not recognize the planets name," the Healer murmured.

A new sensation distracted me. Something pleasant, a change in the air as the Seeker stood at my side. A scent, I realized. Something different than the sterile, odorless room. Perfume, my new mind told me. Floral, lush...

"Can you hear me?" the Seeker asked, interrupting my analysis. "Are you aware?"
"Take your time," the Healer urged in a softer voice than the one he had used before.

I did not open my eyes. I didn't want to be distracted. My mind gave me the words I needed, and the tone that would convey what I couldn't say without using many words.

"Have I been brought here and placed in a host in order to gain the information you need, Seeker?"

The Seeker gasped. Hissed, my memory corrected.

"Why would you ask such a question?," the Seeker asked.

"I did not ask to be sent to another world, to be put in another host" My tone was stiff, still angry. I wasn't used to anger. It was hard to contain it.

There was a pause.

"Is that not what you want?," the Seeker asked.

"What I want? Who would want to be put in a host that was retrieved from a suicide attempt that was perilously close to succeeding?"

"Everything was in perfect order -"

The Healer cut her off. "Why didn't you want to have another host?" he asked.

"I had made myself clear I would live out the rest of my hosts life and that would be it"

Though there was no sound, there was a change. The atmosphere changed at me saying the words. It tensed a bit. I wondered how I knew this. I had a strange sensation that I was somehow receiving more than my five senses were giving me-almost a feeling that there was another sense, on the fringes, not quite harnessed. Intuition? That was almost the right word. As if any creature needed more than five senses.
The Seeker cleared her throat, but it was the Healer who answered.

"Oh," he said. "It may not be completely your reasoning"

"I don't understand your meaning."

"This host was part of the human resistance." There was a hint of excitement in the Seeker's voice now.

"Those humans who were aware of us before insertion are more difficult to subdue. This one still resists."

There was a moment of silence while they waited for my response.

Resisting? The host was affecting my reasoning? Again, the heat of my anger surprised me.

"I still did not ask to be sent here. You authorized me to come?" I asked, my voice distorted because it came through my teeth.

"Well," the Healer started but is cut off.

"I did. I thought someone of your experience could prove very useful here" the Seeker says proudly. "There is really nothing you can do now but is to except it and move on." Her statement irritates me. But she is right I am here now. It doesnt mean I will except it though. I sigh.

"Am I correctly bound then?"

"Yes" the Healer said. "All eight hundred twenty-seven points are latched securely in the optimum positions."

This mind used more of my faculties than any host before, leaving me only one hundred eighty-one spare attachments. Perhaps the numerous bindings were the reason the emotions were so vivid.

I decided to open my eyes. I felt the need to double-check the Healer's promises and make sure the rest of me worked.
Light. Bright, painful. I closed my eyes again. The last light I had seen had been filtered through a hundred ocean fathoms. But these eyes had seen brighter and could handle it. I opened them narrowly, keeping my eyelashes feathered over the breach.
"Would you like me to turn down the lights?"
"No, Healer. My eyes will adjust."
"Very good," he said, and I understood that his approval was meant for my casual use of the possessive. Both waited quietly while my eyes slowly widened.

My mind recognized this as an average room in a medical facility. A hospital. The ceiling tiles were white with darker speckles. The lights were rectangular and the same size as the tiles, replacing them at regular intervals. The walls were light green-a calming color, but also the color of sickness. A poor choice, in my quickly formed opinion.

The people facing me were more interesting than the room. The word doctor sounded in my mind as soon as my eyes fastened on the Healer. He wore loose-fitting blue green clothes that left his arms bare. Scrubs. He had extremely dark colored skin almost black and small furry lines of hair above his eyes. His eyes stood out from the darkness of his skin; the silver behind the irises.

His face was generically human to me, but the knowledge in my memory applied the word kind.

An impatient breath pulled my attention to the Seeker. My eyes focused on her. She was very tall, standing out against the Healer. She did draw the eye, glwing in the bright room. She wore white from chin to wrists-a conservative suit with a silk turtleneck underneath. Her hair was light, too. It grew to her chin and was pushed back behind her ears. Her skin was lighter than the Healer's. Olive toned.

The tiny changes in humans' expressions were so minimal they were very hard to read. My memory could name the look on this woman's face, though. The light brows, lifted over the slightly bulging eyes, created a familiar design. Not quite happiness. Grin. Smirk.

"What do we call you?"

"My name is Iridescents Across the Night"

"It is very nice to meet you"

"What type of host am I in?" I asked, looking at the Healer again.

"A male," the Healer admitted. "Full grown to be exact"

"Full grown"

"Yes, they are not as easily to come by as in the immature ones. Most dont request for the adults. The immature are more pilable"

"I'm well versed in all the facts, Healer. You said my host maybe...resisting. Have you dealt with this... resistance before yourself?"

"Only once, myself."

"Tell me the facts of the case." I paused. "Please," I added, feeling a lack of courtesy in my command. The Healer sighed.

The Seeker began tapping her fingers against her arm. A sign of impatience. She did not care to wait for what she wanted.

"This occurred four years ago," the Healer began. "The soul involved had requested an adult male host. The first one to be available was a human who had been living in a pocket of resistance since the early years of the occupation. The human... knew what would happen when he was caught."

"Just as my host did."

"Um, yes." He cleared his throat. "This was only the soul's second life. He came from Blind World."

"Blind World?" I asked, cocking my head to the side reflexively.

"Oh, sorry, you wouldn't know our nicknames. This was one of yours, though, was it not?" He pulled a device from his pocket, a computer, and scanned quickly. "Yes, your last planet. In the eighty-first sector."

"Blind World?" I said again, my voice now disapproving.

"Yes, well, some who have lived there prefer to call it the Singing World." I nodded slowly. I liked that better.

"And some who've never been there call it Planet of the Bats," the Seeker muttered. I turned my eyes to her, feeling them narrow as my mind dredged up the appropriate image of the ugly flying rodent she referred to.

"I assume you are one who has never lived there, Seeker," the Healer said lightly. "We called this soul Racing Song at first-it was a loose translation of his name on... the Singing World. But he soon opted to take the name of his host, Kevin. Though he was slated for a Calling in Musical Performance, given his background, he said he felt more comfortable continuing in the host's previous line of work, which was mechanical.

"These signs were somewhat worrisome to his assigned Comforter, but they were well within normal bounds. Then Kevin started to complain that he was blacking out for periods of time. They brought him back to me, and we ran extensive tests to make sure there was no hidden flaw in the host's brain. During the testing, several Healers noted marked differences in his behavior and personality. When we questioned him about this, he claimed to have no memory of certain statements and actions. We continued to observe him, along with his Comforter, and eventually discovered that the host was periodically taking control of Kevin's body."

"Taking control?" My eyes strained wide. "With the soul unaware? The host took the body back?"

"Sadly, yes. Kevin was not strong enough to suppress this host."

Not strong enough. Would they think me weak as well? I am weak. I let them send me off without my permission. Weaker still, because his living thoughts had existed in my head where there should be nothing but memory? This idea of weakness made me flinch. Made me feel shame.

The Healer continued. "Certain events occurred, and it was decided -"

"What events?" The Healer looked down without answering.

"What events?" I demanded again. "I believe I have a right to know."

The Healer sighed. "You do. Kevin... physically attacked a Healer while not... himself." He winced. "He knocked the Healer unconscious with a blow from his fist and then found a scalpel on her person. We found him insensible. The host had tried to cut the soul out of his body."

It took me a moment before I could speak. Even then, my voice was just a breath. "What happened to them?"

"Luckily, the host was unable to stay conscious long enough to inflict real damage. Kevin was relocated, into an immature host this time. The troublesome host was in poor repair, and it was decided there wasn't much point in saving him. Kevin is seven human years old now and perfectly normal... aside from the fact that he kept the name Kevin, that is. His guardians are taking great care that he is heavily exposed to music, and that is coming along well..." The last was added as if it were good news-news that could somehow cancel out the rest.

"Why?" I cleared my throat so that my voice could gain some volume. "Why have these risks not been shared?"

"Actually," the Seeker broke in, "it is very clearly stated in all recruitment propaganda that assimilating the remaining adult human hosts is much more challenging than assimilating a child. An immature host is highly recommended."

"You obviously ignored the recommendation" I say sternly. She held up her hands in a peacemaking gesture when my body tensed, causing the stiff fabric on the narrow bed to crackle softly.

"I have every confidence that this is well within your abilities to handle. This is just another host. I'm sure you will have full access and control shortly."

By this point in my observations of the Seeker, I was surprised that she'd had the patience to wait for any delay, even my personal acclimatization. I sensed her disappointment in my lack of information, and it brought back some of the unfamiliar feelings of anger.

"Did it not occur to you that you could get the answers you seek by being inserted into this body yourself?" I asked.

She stiffened. "I'm no skipper."

My eyebrows pulled up automatically.

"Another nickname," the Healer explained. "For those who do not complete a life term in their host."

I nodded in understanding. We'd had a name for it on my other worlds. On no world was it smiled upon. So I quit quizzing the Seeker and gave her what I could.

"His name was Jared Howe. He was born in Los Angeles, California. He was in Seattle when the occupation became known to him, and he hid in the wilderness for a few years before finding... Hmmm. Sorry, I'll try that one again later. The body has seen twenty nine years. He drove to Chicago from..." I shook my head. "There were several stages, not all of them alone. The vehicle was stolen. He was searching for a sister named Jessica, whom he had reason to hope was still human. He neither found nor contacted anyone before he was spotted. But..." I struggled, fighting against another blank wall. "I think... I can't be sure... I think he left a note... somewhere."

"So he expected someone would look for him?" the Seeker asked eagerly.

"Yes. He will be... missed. If he does not rendezvous with..." I gritted my teeth. I truly feel guilty for telling her. The wall was black, and I could not tell how thick it was. I battered against it, sweat beading on my forehead. The Seeker and the Healer were very quiet, allowing me to concentrate.
I tried thinking of something else-the loud, unfamiliar noises the engine of the car had made, the jittery rush of adrenaline every time the lights of another vehicle drew near on the road. I already had this, and nothing fought me. I let the memory carry me along, let it skip over the cold hike through the city under the sheltering darkness of night, let it wind its way to the building where they'd found me.
Not me, him. My body shuddered.

"Don't overextend -" the Healer began.

The Seeker shushed him. I let my mind dwell on the horror of discovery, the burning hatred of the Seekers that overpowered almost everything else. The hatred was evil; it was pain. I could hardly bear to feel it. But I let it run its course, hoping it would distract the resistance, weaken the defenses.

I watched carefully as he tried to hide and then knew he could not. A note, scratched on a piece of debris with a broken pencil. Shoved hastily under a door. Not just any door.

"The pattern is the fifth door along the fifth hall on the fifth floor. His communication is there."

The Seeker had a small phone in her hand; she murmured rapidly into it.

"The building was supposed to be safe," I continued. "They knew it was condemned. He doesn't know how he was discovered. Did they find Jessica?"

A chill of horror raised goose bumps on my arms. The question was not mine. The question wasn't mine, but it flowed naturally through my lips as if it were. The Seeker did not notice anything a miss.

"The sister? No, they found no other human," she answered, and my body relaxed in response. "This host was spotted entering the building. Since the building was known to be condemned, the citizen who observed her was concerned. He called us, and we watched the building to see if we could catch more than one, and then moved in when that seemed unlikely. Can you find the rendezvous point?"

I tried. Not really.

So many memories, all of them so colorful and sharp. I saw a hundred places I'd never been, heard their names for the first time. A house in Los Angeles, lined with tall fronded trees. A meadow in a forest, with a tent and a fire, outside Winslow, Arizona. A deserted rocky beach in Mexico. A cave, the entrance guarded by sheeting rain, somewhere in Oregon. Tents, huts, rude shelters. As time went on, the names grew less specific. He did not know where he was, nor did he care.

My name is Iridescents Across the Night, yet his memories fit it just as well as my own. Except that my wandering was by choice. These flashes of memory were always tinged with the fear of the hunted. Not wandering, but running.

I began to feel pity. I dont want to focus on the memories. The Seeker didn't need to know where he'd been, only where he was going. I sorted through the pictures that tied to the word Chicago, but none seemed to be anything more than random images. I widened my net. What was outside Chicago? Cold, I thought. It was cold, and there was some worry about that.

Where? I pushed, and the wall came back.

I exhaled in a gust. "Outside the city-in the wilderness... a state park, away from any habitations. It's not somewhere he'd been before, but he knew how to get there."

"How soon?" the Seeker asked.

"Soon." The answer came automatically. "How long have I been here?"

"We let the host heal for nine days, just to be absolutely sure she was recovered," the Healer told me. "Insertion was today, the tenth day."

Ten days. My body felt a staggering wave of relief.

"Too late," I said. "For the rendezvous point... or even the note." I could feel the host's reaction to this-could feel it much too strongly. The host was almost...smug. I allowed the words he thought to be spoken. "She won't be there."

"She?" The Seeker pounced on the pronoun. "Who?"

The black wall slammed down with more force than he'd used before. He was the tiniest fraction of a second too late.
Again, the face filled my mind. The beautiful face with the tan skin and the light-flecked eyes. The face that stirred a strange, deep pleasure within me while I viewed it so clearly in my mind.

Though the wall slapped into place with an accompanying sensation of vicious resentment, it was not fast enough.

"Melanie," I answered. As quickly as if it had come from me, the thought that was not mine followed the name through my lips. "Melanie is safe."