On Monday afternoon, Mr. Tidwell (really, Illim 462) stopped me on my way to my seat.
"Tom, we need to speak after class regarding your research paper."
Terlin took control, since my mind went blank. That wasn't due for another month.
"Okay, Mr. Tidwell," he answered, just like I would (should) have.
(What was that?) I wondered, as Terlin walked me over to my desk.
(I have no idea,) he admitted. (But we needed to say something.)
From his tone, I knew that Terlin wasn't rebuking me. If anything, it was an apology for having taken control without-at least-warning me.
(Right. Good call,) I allowed. Then, I added, (But it's not due for another month, right?)
(It's not due until next month,) Terlin corrected, gently.
I sent him a mental eye roll.
(So? We handed in our draft two weeks ago, same as everyone else. He didn't write anything too terrible,) I recalled. (Why the need to see us now?)
Terlin was quiet for a minute, clearly thinking about what I'd said. (Do you think it's Yeerk business?) he finally suggested.
That was possible, but why the ruse about a term paper?
(I don't know,) Terlin admitted. (I guess we'll find out in forty-five minutes. Do you want control back?)
(Yeah.) I'd actually forgotten that I wasn't in control. Mostly because we were just sitting there, and I could feel my body as acutely as I would have had I been in control. Terlin wasn't big on numbing the senses. (Thanks.)
The class went by more slowly than usual. Taking notes helped so that I wouldn't spend the time daydreaming or worrying about what would happen afterwards. Sure, Terlin could have taken the notes as well as I could, but at least it was something to take my mind off of possible impending doom.
At least, as far as my History grade was concerned.
Finally, the bell rang, and Mr. Tidwell dismissed the class. I rose from my seat with the rest of them, but walked slowly in order not to attract any attention at needing to stay late. Anyway, I'd probably have to take a seat at the front of the class to talk-more likely, listen-to what Mr. Tidwell had to say, and I wasn't some nerd who sat in the front of the class.
Once everyone left, Mr. Tidwell nodded at me, gave me the "please wait" sign, and then shut the classroom door.
"I'll write you a hall pass to excuse your tardiness," he told me/us. "I don't like to make students late, but this class never falls before a lunch or free period in your schedule. Yes, I checked," he added.
I nodded. "You wanted to talk about the term paper, sir?" I asked.
I wasn't too big on calling adults "sir" or "ma'am". Not if I could just use their last name with Mr. or Mrs. attached to it. But, well, if I was about to be accused of cheating or something, it probably couldn't hurt to start off looking extra polite.
Mr. Tidwell discreetly pointed to his head. "I'm speaking as Illim 462 to..."
Oh.
(Yeah, go for it,) I sighed, before Terlin could ask.
(Thanks.)
"Terlin 657," he answered for me, and I felt him raise my eyebrows. "This was merely a ruse, then?"
Mr. Tidwell-Illim 462-gave us a wry smile. "Precisely."
Terlin laughed. "We were concerned that you were going to accuse us of plagiarizing or some very other very human thing."
Illim raised one eyebrow. "We?"
Oops.
Terlin shrugged. "My host body has been voluntary for the better part of two years, Illim, but he is still very much human. Things like being summoned to remain after class, especially by a notably severe teacher, are prone to cause him anxiety."
Illim laughed. "Notably severe?" he echoed. "I haven't caned any students this month."
(He probably would, if it was legal,) I told Terlin.
(Want me to repeat that for you?) he teased, feigning confusion.
(Sure, if you want detention for a week.)
I was bluffing-Terlin knew I was bluffing.
"Good to know," Terlin answered out loud, skipping the respectful ruse, since he was speaking as a Yeerk to a fellow peer Yeerk.
No need for "sir" now.
Illim sat down at his desk, and motioned towards one of the desks in the front row. "Please, Terlin, have a seat."
Terlin did as asked, but didn't speak again. My Yeerk might not be a Visser or even a sub-Visser, but he knew the Yeerk empire all too well. Illim was a peer, today, but tomorrow, maybe not. Of course, as far as Illim knew, Terlin could be well on the road to becoming a sub-Visser. There were clear ranks, but there were the more subtle ones.
Moreover, since Illim wasn't just getting at whatever he wanted to say, there had to be something secretive about him telling Terlin to remain after class. If it was regular Yeerk business, why not just pull him aside before or after the next Sharing meeting? Or, waited around McDonalds after Terlin fed?
Terlin was hearing all of these thoughts, and I could tell that he was pleased. Impressed, even.
(You know the Yeerk culture all too well, Tom,) he chuckled.
(I have been your host for eighteen months,) I pointed out.
Still. I was pleased.
Finally, Illim spoke up. "Tell me, Terlin, how long have you infested this human?"
"Eighteen months," Terlin answered, easily and without any hesitation.
Illim nodded, studying me as though I was a piece of clothing he was considering buying. Or, given the Yeerk mindset, a host body he might want to exchange his own for.
(Don't worry, Tom. That's not happening,) Terlin reassured me, pulling me into a mental hug.
I gave him a small mental smile. (Thanks.)
It was true enough, I guessed. Yeerks couldn't decide to swap out hosts with each other. Those decisions came from the higher ups. Still. The way Illim looked at me made me realize that most Yeerks only saw me as a body.
A voluntary body, at that.
Valuable.
Then again, Mr. Tidwell was also voluntary. He was a few decades older than me, but he was also a feared teacher, and that had to mean his Yeerk was ranked at least as high as Terlin. Probably.
Illim nodded. "I've had this one for ten months. He joined The Sharing shortly after his wife died from an illness."
"Ah."
Were it me speaking, or any human speaking as a decent human, some statement of sympathy would have been expected. But, then again, this was Yeerk to Yeerk, not human to human. Yeerks weren't supposed to show that they cared about any suffering their hosts had undergone.
Even voluntary humans.
"Your host...was he voluntary from the start?" Illim asked, evidently deciding to change the subject.
I figured I knew why. His remark about Mr. Tidwell's wife probably brought up some unpleasant memories of seeing her die, or hearing about her dying, and Illim didn't want to be distracted by them.
Terlin laughed, and mentally, so did I.
"Not at the very beginning," he admitted, "but by the time I first fed, he agreed to cooperate."
Illim raised his host's eyebrows. "Ah. He rejected full membership?" Illim guessed.
Another laugh from my Yeerk, but I could tell from his emotions that he found this less than amusing. "No." After a moment, Terlin continued. "My host became an associate member because a female he had a crush on was a full member. I don't know if her Yeerk was planning to pursue the guise of the relationship to lure him into becoming a full member, but his interest remained. He noticed that full members kept disappearing to their own meetings, and one day, he decided to follow her into one. When he entered the room, he saw Visser Three in his host's unmorphed body. Naturally, they couldn't let my host leave without a Yeerk." He waved his hand over my body. "That's how he came to be my host."
Illim looked amazed. "I'm surprised you managed to turn someone like that."
Terlin merely shrugged. "I mollified him with the promise of some control if he behaved, and showed him pictures of the two areas that hosts were kept where their Yeerks fed. It really wasn't a difficult decision for him to make." Terlin paused, just for a second, then added, "He's even come to enjoy my company, at times. Humans are very social creatures."
Illim nodded. "Sounds like yours came around fairly easily."
Terlin shrugged again. "Young humans, such as mine, can be adaptable."
"Well, thank you, Terlin. That has been most helpful." Illim glanced at the clock. "I'll provide you with the pass, of course."
We left with the pass, and then Terlin handed control back over to me.
(I don't like that,) I complained, even though it was hardly Terlin's fault. (Why's he singling you out?)
Terlin gave me a mental shrug. (Perhaps, I should have asked how his host came to be voluntary.)
(Well, his wife died, right? He was probably grieving when he joined The Sharing, and then when they told him about aliens who could live in your head and handle the living for you, he took them up on it. Not that I know anyone who died,) I added, (but if Midget or my parents died, I figure I would want you to take over for awhile.)
Just thinking about this sent a wave of pain through my body, and I had to remind myself that all three of them were safe.
(Maybe,) Terlin allowed. (It could be curiosity on Illim's part, but I suspect that there's something else.)
Yeah. I did, too.
Mr. Tidwell was back in the voluntary area the next time that Terlin fed. Well, this time, he arrived after I did, because he gently tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention. I was with the TV watchers again, but I hadn't been paying much attention to the show.
I looked up, startled, and my teacher gave me a little smile, looking almost apologetic.
"I'm sorry, Tom," he apologized. "I didn't mean to startle you."
I forced a laugh. "It's okay. Hi."
"Hello," he answered, smiling a little more widely. Not scary wide, just more normal than before. "I was wondering if we could talk?"
We weren't in school right now, but he was still my teacher. Even though that was one of the last things I wanted to do, I nodded.
"Yeah, sure." I stood up, and followed him to one of the tables.
The voluntary area has several places for people like me to go. Even bathrooms and a room with beds if you want to take a nap without being disturbed. Given that Yeerks feed for about two hours, it sort of makes sense. Not that I've ever needed to take a nap, but I've seen kids and older adults head in that direction.
The table we sat at was far enough away from the TV that we, and other humans, could talk without disturbing anyone. Still, it wasn't exactly a quiet area. It was more like sitting at your own table in a restaurant. People were more focused on their own conversations than on others', so even though you could be overheard, it was loud and busy enough that this wasn't likely.
Not that people only used them to talk. Mr. Tidwell had been there nearly three days ago, reading a book.
Anyway, we sat down, and Mr. Tidwell just studied me for a minute before speaking. I guessed that I could have said something, but, again, he'd called me over, and he was still the teacher. The adult.
"I'm sure you overheard the conversation between my Yeerk and yours," he began.
I nodded.
Unless I'd been sleeping in my mind, or had been tortured, it would have been impossible not to. The second had never happened to me, but I knew that mental torture was something that cruel Yeerks inflicted on involuntary hosts. Even ones who didn't consider themselves to be cruel. They called it "host discipline", as though forcing your host to go through hours of painful memories-and Yeerk fantasies of cruelty-was as mild as being spanked (not something my parents ever did) or sent to your room for a timeout.
"Yeah, I was there," I answered, forcing a smile.
"You were voluntary from the beginning, or nearly," Mr. Tidwell assessed. "I was not."
Oh.
After a minute or so of silence, I spoke up. "What changed?"
Mr. Tidwell didn't answer immediately. When he did, it was with a question.
"Tom, what do you know about the Andalite bandits?"
I shrugged. "There are six of them and they're doing a great job at messing things up for Visser Three. Um, they've killed a lot of Controllers, but they also destroyed a Kandrona...other stuff, too." I shrugged again, not remembering everything they managed to interfere with offhand. "Wasn't there a clinic that Visser Three was going to use for getting involuntary humans? I think they burned that down a year ago."
Mr. Tidwell nodded. "Yes. They've caused a lot of damage to the Yeerk empire."
I noticed that he placed some stress on the word "empire".
"Yeah," I agreed. "Visser Three's pretty ticked that they're, you know, still around. Still messing things up."
Another nod from my teacher. He watched me, and I fought the urge to look away.
"They're certainly dangerous," he agreed. "To the empire."
More emphasis on that word.
"Yep," I affirmed. "They're kicking his butt."
I swore Mr. Tidwell snickered at that.
"Yes, that's one way of putting it." He paused, then changed the subject. "You have a younger brother, don't you? Jake?"
I forced myself to stay calm. Impartial. "Yeah. Jake just started high school this year."
"He's a smart young man," Mr. Tidwell told me. "He doesn't always apply himself in my class, but he's intelligent."
"He's not failing or anything, is he?" I asked, a little worriedly. "Because I can offer to tutor him. Ask him if he's having trouble."
Mr. Tidwell shook his head. "His grades are...adequate. He has more potential than he lets on, though."
I managed a laugh. "No offense, sir, but as long as he's passing...history class isn't really all that interesting to most kids his age."
"No, I imagine you're right. However, he is in high school, and his grades will matter when he looks at colleges. The two most important years are ninth grade, because it sets the tone, and eleventh grade," Mr. Tidwell reminded me.
I was a senior this year, and in the beginning of the whole college application process. Some of my classmates were talking about starting at a community college to get their requirements out of the way, and because it was less expensive. Less money for them to borrow if their parents hadn't saved enough. Me, I was planning to go to a four year college. So would Jake. We knew our parents expected it from us.
"I'll talk to him," I promised. "You know, tell him he needs to take school more seriously."
Mr. Tidwell nodded. "He's never been interested in The Sharing, has he?"
I forced my hands to stay on the table, relaxed in front of me. Instead of making them into fists beneath the table. I made my face into a smile, instead of a glare.
Man, I wished Terlin were here.
"Naw." I shrugged. "He attended a barbecue a year or so ago, but nothing after that. Terlin didn't want to be a nag. You know, keep my cover and all of that. It would look weird if I suddenly only started talking about The Sharing and how great it was. Plus, when Midget makes up his mind..." I forced a laugh. "There's no changing it."
Mr. Tidwell studied me, and if he'd been a science teacher, I would have said he was looking at me like a scientist would study some kind of cell or bacteria under a microscope.
"No," he finally agreed. "I suppose not."