<Yes,> Terenia says bluntly. <But...I feel the same way.> Her palps twitch with discomfort. <Corliss, after my sister di- after I killed my sister I thought that was it for me. Everyone I cared about is dead. Everyone I was fighting this damned war for was gone. But you...you make me feel like maybe there's still a thing or two worth fighting for.>
She is glad, once again, that she is incapable of blushing in her current form. <Strangely enough, you remind me I'm still human.>
"I don't have to live in squallor and pretend to have some grand cause to treat my host like a sentient being," Zorish scowls. "And choosing that life does not make your Corliss brave, it makes him a fool." He glances around and lowers his steadily more slurred voice. "Host sympathy only becomes a crime when you go around brandishing it like a damned banner," he hisses. "Whatever the Empire stands for, it likes order. Order for its people and order for its hosts. If that means they must turn a blind eye to a Yeerk who treats his host kindly, then so be it."
Zorish can feel the heat rising in Tamora's cheeks. He knows that he is treading on dangerous ground, but the Scotch seems to have loosened his tongue far more than he would like. Tamora's internal commentary is only making it worse.
<<Maybe he's right,>> she was saying. <<What if we're only hurting ourselves in the long run, staying with the Empire?>>
<<Fool,>> Zorish responds. <<As long as we are with the Empire we are protected, can't you see that? No one, not even Visser Three, is going to murder a Sub-Visser without reason. We are safe. You are safe.>>
<<I still want to talk to him.>>
<<I know everything you want to say. It is pointless. Pointless and dangerous.>>
<<I don't care. Please.>>
Zorish shakes his head and, rather than respond, takes another sip of Scotch.