Page 2 of Surrender

Taking solace in sarcasm, Talia vowed she’d hunt down pen and paper at the first opportunity and send a stern letter through the portal to the directors, informing them that this uprising had rendered all their assurances worthless.

She looked down at her traveling garb – flowing purple robe with a gold sash around the waist, chosen to telegraph her status as an important figure to this primitive culture. It would make her stand out as a potential hostage to whoever was behind the revolt.

She knelt and murmured an apology to her dead assistant. Then, gritting her teeth, Talia pulled Nelson’s body into a shadowy corner and stripped off his gray traveling cloak. Thick wool, with a hood to cover her long hair, it would protect her from the harsh climate of Gadolinium as well as hiding her female form under its shapeless folds.

She hiked the purple robe up above her knees then tucked the extra fabric under the sash to hold it in place. Cringing, she drew the cloak over her head and did her best to ignore the clammy dampness where Nelson’s blood had soaked through it. Thankfully, he’d been a few inches taller than her six-foot height, so the cloak covered her from head to toe. Although average in height for a female, Talia didn’t fit the current Earth standards of physical perfection. Genetically she was an anomaly among the slender willowy females back home. A throwback to her ancestors, full-bodied females with lush breasts to nurse hungry babies and wide hips on which to perch chubby toddlers.

Nursing babies? Chubby toddlers? She didn’t know where the odd thoughts were coming from. She’d had them often since she accepted the posting to Gadolinium. Strange images had been popping into her head, remnants of dreams that made her wake with pulse pounding and left her tossing and turning the rest of the night. Images of a faceless stranger who undressed her slowly, his tangled dark hair brushing the skin of her naked breasts as he bent his head to kiss them. Then he’d sink to his knees and…

Enough.Talia shook her head, annoyed. She needed to keep her wits about her. This was no time to dwell on dreams, no matter how wickedly arousing they’d been. She glanced at the portal, torn. It would be so easy to step back through, despite the danger another transport in such a short time might pose to her body. She’d be safe at home, where any damage could easily be repaired.

But her dedication to duty prevailed. Years of sacrifice, of training, of service to the Interstellar Federation outweighed concern for her personal well-being. She had a mission to accomplish. She’d been sent to Gadolinium as the first diplomatic envoy from Earth. She’d never be able to hold her head up back home if she turned tail and ran at the first sign of trouble. At the very least, she needed to stay long enough to find out what was happening and then deliver a full report to the directors.

She hid in the shadows of the chamber, out of sight, for what seemed like hours until the commotion in the streets died away. Talia tucked a wayward strand of golden-brown hair behind her ear and drew the hood of the cloak over her head to hide her face. Then, heart pounding, she took a few hesitant steps away from shelter and into the street.

There was no one in sight. Moving as silently as possible, she crept to the end of the street and peeked around the corner.

Her stomach recoiled. Two bodies lay sprawled on the ground. Rivers of blood from the corpses pooled in cracks between the paving stones. The severed arm next to one of them still clutched a dagger in its hand.

Talia had never been exposed to raw violence. She’d studied history’s most famous battles, recreated holographically, as part of her training at the academy. And watchingCyborg Warswas her secret vice. But cyborgs didn’t shed blood, and any injuries they sustained were swiftly repaired. The sight of this carnage almost sent her scurrying back to the portal.

Too late. A glance behind her told her that avenue of escape was gone. Three more half-naked savages headed down the street she’d just been on, probably on the lookout for anyone they’d missed on the first sweep. They disappeared through the open doorway of the portal chamber. Talia drew the dark cloak tighter around her and tried to blend into the shadows, hugging the side of the building as she passed the fallen bodies.

Talia forced herself to stay calm and pictured the virtual city she’d walked through so many times as part of her preparation for this posting. Three blocks ahead, the road she was on intersected a wide avenue leading to Sigrun’s palace. Surely the king’s guards would have protected him and his home. If she could make it there, she’d be safe and could find out what had happened to throw the city into turmoil.

Talia hunched over, trying to blend into the shadows. Twice she had to duck into buildings to avoid being spotted by roving teams of invaders in the distance. Of the local citizens, there was no sign. Only empty houses. In one, an overturned table and broken pieces of crockery still bearing a half-eaten meal lay on the floor, as though the occupants had had no warning of the attack.

Her heart sank. Trondheim was the capital city, home to thousands of Gadolinians. Yet all she’d seen so far of the residents were two bodies in the street – and one hapless female who might be dead by now too.

The attackers didn’t look anything like the descriptions she’d been given of the local population. The marauders were short and squat, with deep-set eyes, flat noses, and coarse dark hair. Nothing like the fair-haired Nordic stock that had settled this world. Where had the intruders come from? And what had they done with the townspeople?

She picked up her pace. Darkness came early on Gadolinium. Talia drew her cloak tighter around her neck, shivering as the temperature plunged even lower. Though she welcomed the cover it provided, it wasn’t heavy enough to warm a body that had never experienced winter.

On Earth, she lived in New Delphi, a sprawling city protected by the invisible dome that covered hundreds of square miles of the North American continent. Day or night, the temperature never varied more than ten degrees year-round. Artificial wind machines kicked on at irregular intervals, creating mild breezes that kept the atmosphere from becoming monotonous. The occasional shower, always preprogrammed, became cause for celebration. Children would pour out of their homes to frolic in the gentle rain.

Beyond the dome, storms raged. As a schoolgirl, she’d visited the observation tower on the 341stfloor of the Science Center. She and her classmates took turns peering through a high-powered scope at the crumbling ruins of cities destroyed by hurricanes, floods, and tornadoes, or nearly obliterated by the rising seas, centuries before the dome had been erected.

This city had no dome. It was fully exposed to the whims of nature. Talia cursed the streak of vanity that led her to refuse a cylerian. The synthetic suit fit like a second skin and protected its wearer from extremes of weather. She’d reasoned that her time in the harsh climate would be minimal. A few paces from the portal to the horse-drawn carriage awaiting her arrival then a few more steps outdoors to the entrance of the palace, which would be well heated. She hadn’t wanted to lose face right off the bat wearing what amounted to long underwear in front of the hardy Gadolinians.

As the third planet in this solar system, farthest from the twin suns Phalyx and Zalyx, the climate was brutal. She couldn’t understand how its residents bore the bone-chilling cold most of the year. They got a short respite when Gadolinium’s orbit took it near the suns and heated its surface enough to grow crops and shed heavy outer garments. But that season was still months away. She’d only been on this wretched world for a few hours, and already she regretted volunteering for a two-year posting.

Of course, she might be heading home to Earth tomorrow, depending on what she found out when she got to the palace and had an opportunity to speak to someone –anyone– about the current situation.

Lights blazed in the distance. Talia picked up her pace, almost running, as she imagined soaking in a hot bath and sipping an even hotter cup of tea in the quarters awaiting her.

A pair of rough arms seized her from behind and yanked her into a dark alley. Two hands circled her chest, pinned her arms at her sides. The man’s fingers sank into her breasts, and she heard a muffled oath.

Talia fought wildly, writhing and twisting. A low voice in her ear stopped her cold. She’d studied the Gadolinian language enough that even without the Tellex chip she’d have understood the words.

“What in the name of Odin’s beard are you doing out here?”

Chapter Two

She struggled to break free, but the arms tightened around her like a vise. She hadn’t been so close to another human being since she was a babe in arms. Trapped, unable to move, panic set in.

Talia drew in a breath and screamed at the top of her lungs. One hand let go of her breast and clapped over her mouth.

“You little fool! Shut up,” her captor growled. “I’m not one ofthem.” He dragged her deeper into the shadowy alcove. “Be quiet, or you’ll draw them here.” He spun her around, trapped her against the stone wall with his body, and yanked off her hood. The golden-brown tresses she’d tucked away spilled out.

---