Ainora has been spotted by the government of Resicor and identified as an active talent. Her ability to identify the repairs needed for any situation makes her a valuable tool and turns her into a slave for the government.
Her family makes arrangements to get her off world, and when the rescue comes, he simply knocks her out and carries her away.
Lyon has worked as a bodyguard for years but never has he run across a woman who not only recovers from the toxin on his spikes with incredible speed, but also manages to dodge his next volley with surprising instincts.
More From Tales of the Citadel
Ainora faced her interviewer with all the calm she could muster. She hadn’t been able to adjust the appointment any longer. If she had skipped today’s events, they would have arrested her.
“Yes, I have a talent.”
The security guard and the empath were surprised. Her interviewer blinked as she organized her next question.
“Why haven’t you come forward?”
“There wasn’t any need. No one can tell that I have a talent, so why should I worry about it. I am no threat to Resicor or its people.”
The interviewer tapped her finger on the table. “You are hardly one to judge.”
Ainora cocked her head. “I beg to differ. I am a very good judge of my talent.”
“What is your talent?”
She laughed. “I thought you would know since you went to the trouble to bring me in.”
“The report that your co-worker filed was lacking in detail. He suspected your abilities were more than natural.”
Ainora stretched and put her hands behind her head. “They are completely natural. Urak couldn’t match me on any details even if I don’t use my additional senses.”
“How did you know?”
“That it was him? There is only one person at the firm that hangs over my shoulder trying to discover my secrets as I repair the equipment. It got him into trouble on several occasions. Last month, he stopped following me, so I am guessing that that is when you got the tip off.”
The empath in the corner smirked.
“You really thought that it would work to simply ignore your obligation to declare the talent you had acquired?”
Ainora smirked. “I didn’t acquire it. It is as much a part of me as your toenails are part of you. There was nothing to declare. At no time did I smuggle them through customs.”
The interviewer slammed her hand down on the table. “This is not a joke.”
She sat forward and put her own hands on the table. “Yes, it is. There is another talent in this room and she is allowed and encouraged to use her talent each and every day. For her, it is a job, a part of her that she can use daily. What is the difference?”
The interviewer paused and regrouped. “Your talent is dangerous.”
“Really? What is it?”
Ainora waited while the woman flipped through the files.
She sat quietly and waited.
Finally, the woman sat up. “It doesn’t say. What is your talent?”
