from The Seer
Jolar
reached into his pocket and pulled out an ID scanner. "Come here."
Arissa
recoiled instinctively. "What's that for? You already have my scan."
"Here's
the first rule if you want to live, Arissa. You do what I tell you when I tell
you,” he bit out. “Come here."
She took a
few reluctant steps closer, watching him warily.
He held the
scanner up near her eye and caught her chin before she could turn away.
"Don't flinch. It's a simple ID scan. People do it everyday, several times
a day. It doesn't hurt and no one is afraid of them."
Arissa
willed herself not to move as he flashed the red light in her eye.
He glanced
at the reading. He turned the scanner so she could see the display.
She
blinked. It was her face, her as she was now, not a little girl's face. No
black stripe above her image reading 'deceased'.
"Legan, Arissa?” she breathed. "What
is this?"
"That's
your new name. Hope you like it, though doesn't much matter if you don't."
"My
new—?” The breath rushed out of her lungs. "I have an ID? Will it—Will
that show on all the scanners?"
"Oh,
yes. System wide, absolutely authentic and official."
An ID, a
real one, a non-telepath one? The possibilities, the safety, the freedom of it made her dizzy.
"You
did that?" Arissa managed.
"No, I
called in every favor and debt owed me to make
that happen. I just burned through every bit of influence I’ve built up in the
last ten years – goodwill that was intended to land me Zartan’s seat on the
Tellaran Council after I retire from the Fleet.” Jolar’s eyes were blue ice. “I
expect to be well paid in return."
"Oh."
She wet her lips and glanced at the cot. A real ID in return for letting him
have her? She couldn’t afford to refuse, it didn’t even occur to her to try.
"You want—I mean, here or—?"
He burst
out laughing and Arissa's face went hot.
"You
couldn't frack me enough to pay for this!" Jolar sobered. "No, that’s
not what I want from you. There's something on Sertar I have to do. Something
important. Having a woman with me is actually a liability—unless she has a
unique talent to bring to the table. Your
talent."
She
searched his face. "You need a telepath."
"Want
one,” he corrected. “I don't need one. Which means you do as you're told or
your best hope is that Doctor de’Sar gets her longed-for opportunity to study
one of you. Are we clear?"
Arissa
swallowed. "Yes."
He held up
the scanner. "This is a solid ID—unless something happens to me. Make sure
nothing happens to me. Still
clear?"
Her cheeks
were burning. "Don't kill you in your sleep. Got it."
His sense
was as cold as his eyes now. "Don't misunderstand me. If I think for a
moment you've betrayed me, I'll put that blaster bolt in your head
myself."
He was such
a jumble of emotion she couldn’t sort it all but just the words hurt. She
blinked away the sudden sting of tears. "Sorry. I was—I was joking."
He locked
gazes with her. "Don't joke like that again."
She dropped
her eyes.
"All
right," he said finally. "You're going to shower and change. I have
clothes for you. They might not fit perfectly or be what you like, but put them
on anyway. Fix yourself up as best you can in twenty minutes."
Arissa
frowned. "Why?"
"Because
that's how much time I'm giving you," he said impatiently, turning away.
She pushed
the curls out of her face. "Whatever you say, Commander.”
His sudden
anger hit her so hard she gasped.
"Don't
ever call me that again," he
snarled. "Understand?"
She shook
her head. "I don't—I mean, I thought—well, isn't that what you are?"
He gave her
a narrow look. “Are you fracking with me? Or have you forgotten I know you’re a
Seer?”
Arissa
seethed. “Are you expecting me to read your every thought? Because it doesn’t
work like that. I told you. And if
you want me to help you, you’re going to have to tell me what you need me to do.”
He huffed a
sigh. "Fine. Part of our cover story is I never rose above Lieutenant. I
left the fleet five years ago when we moved to Aylor. Can you remember that?
Because it’s time to go."
She
frowned. "We? Our cover story?"
"Yes, we. I'm Jolar Legan." He nodded
toward the open door of the cell. "Your husband."
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