The Directive Approach
It was a confrontation at the speed of thought. Telrim sat alone with her host in their shared office, eyes narrowed and half-closed, expression set grim and blank. Outwardly, she was silent.
< What was the point? > she demanded. She felt her host struggle to find an answer. Not to formulate one to her liking - just to find it. The girl didn’t even know!
Natasha’s answer was confusion, desperation, a flurry of helplessness bound up with the thought: What else could I do?
< So you tried to go behind my back? To try to manipulate me into caring? I know everything you know! > She could have laughed - it was laughable enough. But she was too annoyed. Too unsettled somehow by this pathetic attempt at subterfuge. The sheer pointlessness of the attempt rankled with her, was offensive. And not just because her host would even try this…
Don’t be surprised, said her training. It’s a host like any other. Of course it would turn on you! Now-
She closed their eyes a moment, held back the trained-in compulsion to seize tighter control, to clamp down until her host could barely think.
< What is this? > she asked. < What do you think is at stake, that’s worth this shot? Your mother, yes. I know what that means to humans... >
You don’t, you can’t, but please just help-
< But, > she interrupted, forcing it over the wave of insistent pleading, < what do you think I can do for her? You know she won’t be harmed - except by accident, and I can’t see the future. Whether she receives the privileges you do - that’s up to her, like it or not. Would you have me try to ensure her a nice Yeerk? >
I don’t know, Natasha admitted, after a second or two. But - I’m just asking that you try. Try and help me figure out something. Anything. Just so she’s as safe as she can be.
< To take such an interest in a human - to perhaps even protect her from my brother Yeerks… >
I know it’s a risk.
< I would no longer owe you for protecting my life when- when you did. I wouldn’t owe you this freedom you’ve been mishandling. >
The human mind froze, spiked suddenly into fear as this realisation sank in. Telrim waited and watches as Natasha’s thoughts wheeled and warred with each other. Love, duty, that flicker of heroic instinct - battered and overwhelmed by the terror of being silenced, of losing the tentative fun she’d had the last few weeks, losing the respect of her partner Yeerk. And there was something smaller, different even as it dueled with the rest of her emotions. Telrim tried to isolate it-
I don’t have anything else to offer you, Natasha said, distracting her. The Yeerk felt the next thought coming. But does it have to work that way?
Even as she asked it, Telrim thought she detected resignation behind it. She already suspected why it did have to be that way.
< It would change things, > she said, almost gently. < There’s no way it couldn’t. You understand, don’t you? Someone who volunteers to spare another is… very different to someone who volunteers freely. >
We’d still be partners, Natasha said quietly. I’d have even more reason to help you.
< But now I would become the hostage-taker and you would have far too much reason to resent me. >
As opposed to you being the Yeerk who kept me from helping my mother? This… isn’t exactly a pure and perfect relationship anyway, Telrim.
< Is that reason to complicate it further? Besides… it isn’t just about how we see each other. How many risks can I be seen to take with you? >
I know. I know. So do it. If I have to give up a few things… take them.
< Your freedom? > Telrim hesitated. She stalled, unwilling to actually accept. < You hardly know this woman any more. She certainly doesn’t know you. >
…She’s still my mother.
< She won’t thank you for it. You know that, Natasha. When - if - she finds out she’ll be anything but grateful for what you do. Anything you do. >
Even thinking ahead to that moment filled her host with the pain of imminent rejection. She winced with it now, mentally, while Telrim curled around her puzzled and angry.
I owe her this much, Telrim. Don’t you understand? I can’t walk away and go back to work without doing everything I can. Even if there’s no way I can fix… the real problem. I have to make the best of what’s there. For both of us.
Telrim didn’t answer her for a minute. Outside them the seconds ticked away and the clack of claws rattled the metal floors outside the door.
A last duty owed? She of all Yeerks could understand that, surely. And there were always allowed concessions, for voluntary hosts. And still, it seemed that cementing this partnership properly required… closure, of sorts?
Perhaps she owed her human that much. A job done properly. She could understand that.
She ignored the lingering, irrational irritation and touched her host’s mind with acceptance. < In… in the interest of our partnership. Very well. I’ll help if it is possible. And tolerate your ‘free speech’ on top of it. >
She all but ducked as thankfulness bloomed and swelled her way. < And now you don’t need a chance to persuade me, we needn’t spend Christmas with her? >
It was instinct to put expressions to reactions, but she couldn’t identify the ‘look’ Natasha gave her. …Telrim.
< Oh, all right. > Telrim shook her head. More than likely she’d be recruited into some ridiculous Sharing scheme while she was there and spend half the time playing a target for Andalite bandits.
It was something about this holiday to look forward to, anyway.