Chapter 12: Minority Report

The blue tunnel of hyperspace burns my retinas even through the viewport's automatic dimming. I've been staring at it for ten straight minutes, hypnotized by the swirling vortex that's carrying us back to Circumtore.

"It never gets old," I whisper, more to myself than to Vae, who's curled up beside me on the small couch in the ship's common area. Her crimson body radiates heat against mine, a comforting presence after everything we've been through.

She grunts in response, most of her attention focused on the datapad in her hands. Something about bounty listings or black market contacts. I've stopped asking for details. Better for my mental health that way.

I shift slightly, my shoulder brushing against hers. Since my breakdown after the Diyu mission, I've been sticking to her like adhesive tape, finding excuses to be in the same room, to maintain physical contact. It's pathetic, really, but I can't help it. She's my anchor now.

"Still another day before we reach Circumtore," I say, just to fill the silence. "What are we going to do with all this time?"

Vae looks up from her datapad, those red eyes studying me with that intensity that still makes my heart skip. "I'll be training later," she replies, returning her gaze to the screen. "You should rest."

Rest. Like I've been able to sleep properly since watching a fake pregnant woman blow herself up. I got maybe three hours last night. I woke up drenched in sweat, the faces of the people I killed swimming behind my eyelids.

My gaze drifts to where her lightsaber hangs at her hip, the hilt catching the blue-white light from hyperspace. I've been curious about it since I first saw her ignite that crimson blade.

"Hey," I say, the question forming before I can second-guess myself, "can I play with your lightsaber?"

Vae's head snaps up, her expression shifting to something between amusement and horror. "No," she says flatly.

"Is it because it's a weapon and not a toy?" I ask, trying to understand her refusal. "Something that deserves respect and proper training?"

Vae's lips twitch with barely suppressed amusement. "No, that's not it at all." She sets her datapad aside, turning to face me fully. "Though most would give that answer."

"Then why?" I press, genuinely curious now.

Her eyes take on that faraway look she gets sometimes, like she's seeing something beyond our reality. "Because in one of my visions, years ago, you asked me this exact same question."

My breath catches. "And?"

"And when I finally said yes..." She pauses, a rare vulnerability crossing her features. "You immediately looked right into the emitter and accidentally activated it."

I wince, imagining the consequences. "That would've been..."

"Fatal," she finishes, a smile breaking through her composure. "It was quite pathetic, really."

The laugh that escapes her is genuine. She places a warm hand on my back, her touch gentle. "But I love you all the same."

Her words spark something rebellious in me. I can feel my face heating up with indignation.

"That's completely patronizing," I say, pulling away from her touch. "You can't just judge me based on some vision you had years ago. That's not fair."

Vae raises an eyebrow, her expression shifting from amusement to confusion.

"It's like this movie I saw once," I continue, warming to my argument. "Minority Report. These psychics could see murders before they happened, so the police would arrest people for crimes they hadn't committed yet. It was fucked up."

"Movie?" Vae repeats, her brow furrowing. The word sounds foreign on her tongue.

"Like a holo-drama," I explain, momentarily thrown off by the cultural disconnect.

"Oh," she says, understanding dawning on her face. "I see."

She studies me for a moment, head tilted slightly. I can almost see the gears turning behind those red eyes as she processes my analogy.

"I'm not policing your future crimes, I'm preventing your future stupidity." She finally says, fingers absently stroking the hilt of her lightsaber.

"It's the same principle," I argue. "You're making decisions about what I can and can't do based on something that hasn't happened yet, and might never happen."

"I simply saw branches of potential futures in my visions, Ty-Lar. Not absolutes." She leans forward, her face inches from mine. "Tell me, if you had visions of me dying because I looked directly into a lightsaber emitter and activated it, would you let me hold one?"

"I... don't think I'm capable of telling you what to do no matter what," I admit, deflating a little.

Her lips curl into that predatory smirk I've come to both fear and crave. "No, you're not." She trails a finger down my jawline, her touch leaving heat in its wake. "But if you want to be in charge so badly... You could always try to overpower me."

The challenge in her voice is unmistakable, playful but with that edge of danger that makes my pulse quicken.

I sigh dramatically, rolling my eyes in mock annoyance. But the truth is, I'm not upset at all. This dynamic between us, her taking control has become strangely comfortable.

Instead of arguing further, I pull myself closer to her, eliminating what little space remained between us on the small couch. She makes a satisfied sound deep in her throat, something between a purr and a hum. Her arm wraps around me, pulling me even tighter against her.

"You're learning," she murmurs into my hair, her breath warm against my scalp.

My eyes drift to the curved black horns protruding from her crimson forehead. I've admired them from afar, watched how they catch the light, but I've never actually touched them.

"Could I..." I hesitate, suddenly feeling shy. "Would it be okay if I touched your horns?"

Vae's expression softens. Without a word, she takes my hands in hers and guides them upward, placing my palms gently against the surface of her horns.

"Everything I am belongs to you," she murmurs, her eyes half-lidded as I explore the texture beneath my fingertips. "Just as you belong to me. You may touch any part of me you wish, husband."

The horns are smoother than I expected, warm like the rest of her but with a polished hardness that feels almost like obsidian. I trace their curve from base to tip, fascinated by how they sweep elegantly backward from her forehead.

A small smile plays across her lips as she watches my exploration. "You know," she says, her voice dropping to that dangerous purr that always makes my stomach flip, "they could make for excellent handles later tonight... if you're interested."

Heat rushes to my face so quickly, I'm certain I must be glowing red enough to match her skin. The mental image her suggestion conjures is incredibly arousing.

"That might be fun to try."