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SIX
Things moved quickly.
A police car showed up, disgorging two officers Aftran identified immediately as Controllers. They went over my story looking for holes. Aftran stuck to the bare facts:
I'd been thrown from my mare after she spooked from a mother bear and cub. I'd hit a tree branch going into the water. I'd woken up half-drowned downstream, taken shelter from the first night's storm in a dense copse of trees, and had spent almost two days walking back, eating berries and mushrooms to keep up my energy. I didn't know anything about a little girl or a leopard attack, that was just tragic for a child to die so violently so young.
They seemed satisfied after the fifth run-through and left about the time the paramedics and my parents showed up. Rachel was sitting in the back seat of my mom's subaru.
The EMTs checked me over, exclaiming at how well I'd weathered two days of being lost in the wilderness and treating me for mild hypothermia and dehydration. They gave me the whole giardia symptoms spiel. Aftran confirmed to them I was current for tetanus. My dad moved in once they were done, clucking worriedly and acting nothing like the hands-off parent of a mature-for-her-age daughter he usually was. My mom hovered right behind him, wiping tears.
Rachel stood slightly to the side, looking at me with the big false smile she used on people who mistook her for just a pretty airhead. Aftran let my gaze linger for a moment. Rachel's eyes were hard flecks of steel boring into mine. Her stare promised violent retribution.
Her rage on my behalf comforted me like nothing else could. Made me feel loved. Safe.
My dad suddenly hugged me tight. Curled up in a corner of my mind, scared, exhausted, powerless, I wanted nothing more than to relax for a moment, be the one to lean in and—
And then I was. I was. I had control of my arms, of my entire upper body above the waist. I took in a shocked, shuddering breath and hugged my dad tight. I startled an oof out of him. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to start bawling and screaming.
That hug didn't last anywhere near long enough. I still let go before it got awkward. I leaned upright, glanced to the side, at Rachel. And just as I did, just as suddenly, the control I had was gone.
I saw her expression just as Aftran moved my eyes away: shock, uncertainty, confused upset. She'd realized. She'd realized that for a few seconds it had been me hugging my dad. Me glancing at her. She didn't understand why Aftran would bother.
Neither did I.
… What, was this a reward? For being a compliant host, to get me more used to accepting this?
«Not— not entirely.» Aftran said, answering my thought. She was present, close. Looming and observant. «The freedom I just gave you is… extreme.»
She sounded indrawn, absorbed.
I fumed. I felt sick; revolted. Horrified I hadn't realized it until now: she was conditioning me. Like a dolphin trainer at The Gardens handing out fish for tricks. Here, get a tasty treat you like, do what I command you to do when I command it. Don't make me ask twice, you'll get two fish if you do it perfectly the first time.
I loathed this knowledge, loathed my understanding of what was happening. Loathed the fact that it had worked a little. A part of me was desperate for more: more information. More freedom. More control. What could I do to make that happen?
My revulsion. My repulsion and horror. My shame. They all ate at me.
Aftran watched me, silent. Her emotions were a tangle of conflicting feelings. Regret. Superiority. Glee. Indulgence. Pity. Guilt.
«It's—» She began. Cut herself off. «I—»
I waited, listening. Exhausted. Silent.
«I'm— trying.» Aftran said after a moment. «Trying to make this… » She trailed off, seeming lost for words.
Did it matter? A few seconds of hugging my dad didn't make up for any of what she'd put me through. What she had planned for me. And that answer… Part of what she had just done was a reward. A reward that was working on me.
«But not all.» She replied to my thought again, even though I hadn't spoken. «I told you, I regret— I genuinely did not intend to take you as a permanent host.» Frustration rolled off of her. «I assumed an hour as a generous estimate. I did not expect… this.»
I said nothing. Watched her interact with my parents.
«I— panicked. At first.» She said.
Oh, was that all? «Panic does not excuse any—»
«—I'm not willing to go back into the pool.» She said strongly, overriding me. «To surrender sight and mobility for the rest of my life. I'm not. Nor am I willing to submit to starvation death. You have no idea what you would be asking me to do. So where does that leave us, Cassie?»
«What about what I want?» I shot back. «What about what I, Cassie— the human being you are enslaving— want, Aftran?» I watched her watch a wary Rachel out of the corner of my eye. My mom turned me with an arm around my shoulder and started herding me towards the car.
Frustration swirled off of Aftran. It mixed into my own. I did not appreciate sharing the emotion.
«It's not like I can request host reassignment,» she said. She sounded odd. Her emotions were jumbled, all mixed up.
She hesitated. Then, «and… Even if I could— Cassie, I'm sorry,» she said, her regret and guilt were strong. «I truly am. I'm… not willing to give up a morph-capable host. Not after seeing how wondrous the ability is for myself.»
Bitterness rose inside me. I felt like I needed to puke. I wanted to kick her. Scream at her. Reach inside my head and crush her to death with my bare hands. «Of course not.»
There was uncomfortable silence inside my head again as she sat me down. As she buckled my seatbelt. Rachel's eyes bored a hole through the side of my skull from beside me in the back seat.
As my parents shut their car doors, Aftran said: «… I have not gone about— I acted rashly, when I panicked.»
She hesitated. «I have tried to make this tolerable,» she said. Went on slowly, «All we're ever taught about host usage is absolute control.» She was unsure. Conflicted and considering. «Enforcing our wills on a subject species. Breaking them down into compliance,» she clarified. Hesitated.
«Anything else is sympathizing— host collaboration, and therefore treason,» she said. «Th— we are encouraged to report suspected collaborators. There is a reward structure in place for rooting out traitors. The sentence for treason is death by kandrona starvation. Over many weeks.»
I thought about that as my mom started the engine, not replying. Thinking was as good as talking to Aftran anyway. If I didn't have a voice in anything, If I didn't have any real power or privacy or control, why did it even matter if I replied back?
«I can't turn it off.» She said, and her voice reached everywhere around me. She was suddenly oppressive and intense and present. She seemed… uncomfortable? «Seeing your thoughts. Looking into your memory. It's part of what I am. As natural as you breathing.» She pulled back, suddenly less intimidating, less overwhelming. A knot of emotions too tangled to identify spread off of her.
We rode in silence. Around me my parents laughed over the low radio, giddy with relief. Every now and then my dad threw concerned looks at me in the rearview mirror, at how quiet I was.
I could do nothing about his worry and Aftran ignored him. She scratched an itch, took deep breaths. She watched Rachel from the corner of my eye. She acted like a regular teen girl who had been through an ordeal. She was busy deep in thought, her emotions churning.
«I could—» she started. Stopped. She was unsure. Concerned. Conflicted. Wary.
«If—» So many emotions rolled off of her that I couldn't discern them much. Anticipation. A little dread and skepticism, too. «We— before.» She started again. «In the woods that morning. When Karen was my host. We spoke. We talked about a middle choice.»
A twisted, muddled, frenetic hope sparked to life in me. I tried to resist, tried to shy away… and grabbed onto it like I was drowning again.
«Aftran… » I said. Stopped. Tried to consider. Tried to slow myself down. Tried to reassess.
I was out of my mind. Stockholm syndrome? Identifying with my captor? This couldn't be mentally healthy, at all. What was wrong with me!? I was just— This was—
But the hope.
The hope that maybe this could work, that maybe peace and real collaboration could work, that maybe the rest of my life wasn't going to be as an inactive, unwilling passenger. That maybe there was a way out for both of us beyond killing.
I felt her close attention. I felt her read my thoughts, abruptly pull back.
I felt like I'd swallowed broken glass.
No, wait, what was wrong with me?! This wasn't okay! Wait, I should wait—
«—Aftran, if… if this host thing is ever going to work at all,» I said, half-disbelieving my words, half-revolted by them, «you can't treat me like you have. You can't treat me like some subjugated yeerk host to break. If I'm gonna do this, if I'm even gonna consider doing this, it needs to actually be voluntary.»
I paused, reeling at what I'd said. Then I plunged on. «If you want this to work this is how it's going to be: it is my body. I get control. I am— willing— to try to work with you. On who's in control and when,» I felt sick as I spoke, «but, unless it's absolutely life-or-death necessary, do not lock me out.»
The quiet in my head was oppressive.
«... Aftran?»
Pressure rose. Gravity changed. Aftran's full focus weighed on me. Crushing. Overpowering. I could barely withstand it.
She was among my thoughts to a degree that was beyond invasive and intrusive. I couldn't even begin to hide. She was there, close, present and silent, seeking. I felt like I couldn't breathe. Everything was too overpowering, too intrusive, too—
«... Aftran…» I could barely think through the onslaught enough to speak.
It stopped. The pressure, her focus, her presence all disappeared around me. She was silent.
My parents were talking and joking a little too loud to make up for how quiet I was, just a little too boisterous to be natural. Nerves. Riding the high of getting me back. Rachel was stiff and tense next to me.
My eyelid itched. I reached up and scratched it. Froze. Gasped.
I looked down and disbelievingly wiggled my cut-up bare toes. I did. Adrenaline slammed into me.
Rachel noticed. Her eyes narrowed. "You okay, Cassie?" My name in her mouth was a subtle challenge, a dare to Aftran to respond like she was me.
I moved my jaw a little. Swallowed hard. Coughed. "No," I said, and my voice was raw and stressed as I reached over and took Rachel's hand. I marveled at my elation from such a simple gesture. "But things are… maybe getting better."
The look on her face said that if I didn't stop touching her right now I was going to end up with broken fingers.
I squeezed her hand anyway. Swallowed hard. Sniffled. She gave me a hard look in return. Pulled her hand out of mine.
"Right." she muttered shortly, and looked away.