Sinful Surrender

by Houston Havens

  “Are you crazy?” Rex collected the mission papers and the satellite image from the table. “You’ll get contaminated out there, or worse, killed. We have cyborgs for that kind of research.”

  “Well, apparently the cyborgs aren’t doing their jobs. If they were, I wouldn’t have had to waste precious time mind traveling to watch three people having sex instead of finding attack plans.” Fay stood and made her way toward the electronic door. Rex dogged her steps so close he stepped on her heel twice.

  “This isn’t your call to make, Avalon. I’ll take it up with the higher-ups.”

  Fay stopped abruptly to pull up the back of her shoe, forcing Rex to collide with her. Glaring, she said in a tone she hoped dared him to challenge her, “As a mind traveler I have the authority to make this decision.”

  “No you don’t.”

  “Seeing you’re an interviewer and not a mind traveler, I’ll assume you’ve never read the mind traveler’s document of law. Section six, paragraph 198.3 grants me authority in specific cases.” She smiled. “This is one of those cases.” She prayed he didn’t verify this until she made it into the Airbornes’ world. “I need to pack a few things. By the way, why does the government believe the Airbornes want to invade?”

  “You don’t have need-to-know clearance.”

  “Section six grants me that.” She swiped the satellite graph off the top of the folder Rex held. Logan Abán was scribbled across the bottom of the handsome stranger’s picture. “I know his name, but who is he? A spy? Politian?”

  “He’s the leader of the Airbornes.”

  She frowned. “He’s too young for a leader, isn’t he?”

  “Life is short on the surface.”

  “Trinidad, Colorado, huh?”

  “Can’t I talk you out of this?”

  “Nope. I’ll need a stealth photon airship.”

  “Christ, you want a photon ship? That’s faster than any Underworld Fighter Oval-craft. You sure you can handle it?”

  “I’ve been trained. Of course I can handle it.”

  “Damn, finding one isn’t going to be easy. Can’t you settle for a regular light-speed craft?”

  She shook her head in response. She hoped looking for an available photon ship would keep him from discovering her claim of authority was inaccurate. She was gambling she’d get to a light-speed craft and be long gone before he found an airship. By the time he realized she’d tricked him and reported her, there wouldn’t be anything they could do to her until she got back. By then she would know the truth. She would either return with the Airbornes’ documents or follow her gut and take what she knew right now and give it to the Freedom Fighters to start a long overdue revolution. “See I get a photon. Have it loaded and ready to go in fifteen minutes.”

  * * * *

  After stealing a flight suit close to her size and one short enough to fit her five-foot-six-inch frame from a random aviation locker, it took her only five minutes to change and get to the vent-aerial station. She stood in the huge hangar staring in disbelief. What luck! There was a photon airship just sitting there for the taking. There wasn’t a pilot or mechanic in sight. Don’t mind if I do. She hustled toward the ship she would use to get to the surface. It would be a very short flight in one of these airships. They traveled at Mach speeds. On takeoff, the craft would zip into the outer reaches of the Earth’s mesosphere. Within seconds, she would have to recalculate the trajectory to avoid collisions with possible meteors and get the craft to return to the troposphere. Once there, she could program the longitude and latitude from her mind-traveling session into the ship’s navigation system. There was a high probability she would get to her destination and back before Rex had a chance to report her idea to their superiors.

  She hurried aboard the ship, closing the hatch behind her. Strapped into her five-point harness seat she piloted the craft out of the station without a problem, but her luck didn’t hold. The minute she reentered the stratosphere, her flight communications panel lit up like a nuclear-meltdown warnings board. On the first video channel was the vent-aerial station’s first commander. He was yelling at her to return. Immediately, she touched her earphone to indicate she couldn’t hear him and switched channels. The Flight Command Center on the second channel was hollering at her to return the ship at once. Knowing her communications LCD screen didn’t show more than her head, Fay gently flipped the toggled switch up and down on the front of the cockpit’s flight panel to give the impression of transmission troubles. The Communication Center was now butting in on the channel four frequency telling her there was a problem, and she had to return as soon as possible. There was a beep and then a blue light—it was the private waveband reserved for covert communications with the government’s ruler.

  “Mind traveler Fay Avalon.” A deep voice boomed out at her. “This is your ruler. Bring that craft back immediately!” Landen Reto’s round face appeared on her screen. His rosacea-covered cheeks flushed a deeper red with the heat of anger.

  “I—can’t ex—suit or—ers—my—cra—” She faked the breaking up of her speech to give the impression there was a communications problem.

  His black eyes bulged in a murderous glare. “You bring that craft down, or I’ll shoot you out of the sky! Do you hear me, Avalon? Now!”

  “Grac—ious Ru—l—eto—” she replied, but halfway through her sentence she stopped voicing her words and only moved her lips as if she were talking. She waited for him to respond.

  “Avalon, you’ve got five seconds before I order you shot down! One! Two—”

  There’s no way he’ll crash one of these expensive, rare crafts. No way. It was a gamble, but one she was willing to take. Fay pinched her brow into what she hoped was a worried furrow and pointed to her ear, indicating she was having trouble hearing him. A couple of communication failures should convince him she wasn’t being defiant.

  She was wrong. Lights all over the panel started blinking as her ruler attempted to override her ship’s controls. Aware they could see her, Fay reached and adjusted the monitor. “Damn thing!” She smacked at it. “Show me an image!” She released her harness, got up, and stepped back to look at the screen. She saw them very clearly, but pretended she couldn’t see them at all. For their benefit, she cussed like a mechanic and rattled the screen as though she were having visual problems too. Slipping her thumb over the cam lens, she surreptitiously pulled the visual adapter plug from the side of the monitor. Now she could work without being seen.

  The minute she returned to her seat the autopilot light came on. She pressed it to countermand their remote control. When it didn’t work, she reached over, opened the base of the drive system, and pulled out the chip for the autopilot. Her ship wobbled, and she strapped herself back into her harness.

  A swirling blue beam materialized in front of her craft and grew until it created a white concentric circle moving counterclockwise, netting the atmosphere like a spider’s web.

  “Shit!” Fay moved her hands lightning quick over the control panel in an attempt to navigate the ship away from the glowing net and the rainbow of clouds surrounding it. A sudden pressure in her head and a change in her heart’s rhythm warned she hadn’t escaped the effects of the beam. Blood dripped from her nose. She swiped the back of her hand across her top lip, knowing nosebleeds were a symptom of HAARP electromagnetic energy exposure. Her stomach twisted and rolled with nausea.

  Just when she thought she had control, the ship’s power source suddenly died. “F’ing bas…” HAARP had disabled the craft’s main systems.

  “Damn it!” The airship jutted into a nosedive. Fay adjusted the elevators on the back of the craft and cut the reserve power source to counter the steep descent angle. When that didn’t work, she opened the hidden wings along the body of the ship. Though the craft’s front lifted a bit, it was still hurtling downward. She worked quickly to bring the ship in for a hard belly-flop landing. Seeing she might not make it, she pressed the red emergency button to engage the gelwr
ap crash shield. The hatch above her head ejected a putty substance that surrounded her body and her chair, inflating just seconds before she felt the impact rattle her teeth to their roots, and then her world went black.

  Chapter 2

  “What do you think, Drakker? Is that beautiful filly alive?”

  Alive? The words she thought she heard sounded as if they were spoken underwater.

  What’s a filly? Fay felt her body jerk with the thought. I can’t be alive. I hit too hard. The damn gel wrap didn’t work. What’s a Drakker? The last thing she remembered seeing was a dried, cracked brown surface racing toward her. It reminded her of the land she’d seen on Mars in one of her mind travels.

  “…’s a spy?”

  She flinched at catching the word spy. Her world was fading in and out. Had she been rescued? She knew she was flat on her back instead of strapped into her seat and was only hearing parts of a conversation.

  “…Dwellers don’t have craft.”

  Who’s talking? Am I imagining it, or have Reto’s men found me? Is that why I’m lying here? Did the Dirt Dwellers drag me from my craft already? There was a pressure under her nose and then a distant moan. Oh no, did I hit someone? She tried to move, but nothing worked.

  “Hey, she’s coming around.”

  There it is again. A deep tone, but it was more distinct this time. Someone’s talking, but who? How many people have I hurt? Why didn’t I see them before I crashed? The thought of such a tragedy drew her back toward full consciousness. She had to help them. Every effort she made to open her eyes failed. Someone moaned again. Who was that? She would know if she could only see. Damn. It felt like someone had placed two monolithic stones on her eyelids. The more effort she put into opening her eyes, the more her world spiked with stars and swirled around in her head. She was woozy. Pain had settled into every bone she had. Again with the moaning, and she realized the moans she heard were her own.

  “I was afraid she might be dead,” a deep masculine voice said.

  I can’t be dead. She scoffed to herself. It’s impossible to hurt this much and be dead. With one last-ditch effort Fay forced her eyes open to the blinding radiation of the sun. A shadow blocked the glaring rays. To her astonishment, she lay gazing up at a strong-jawed man kneeling beside her with a pitch-black curl of hair draped over his forehead. The rest of his sexy locks were slicked back on both sides, accented with a cowboy hat sitting on the back of his head at a cocky tilt. His sharp, electric-blue eyes held a sparkle, also cocky, as he glided an admiring glance over her breasts and down her frame. He arched his dark eyebrows, wrinkling his tanned forehead as he watched her studying him.

  He smirked, tugging on the end of her long black braided ponytail that lay askew between her breasts. “I hope you like what you’re looking at. They call me Drakker.”

  Fay felt heat rise up her neck. She wasn’t sure if he was exceptionally tall or if it was just the way he towered over her prone body that made her feel flustered. She gawked at his beard and mustache. The facial hair was simply seductive. No wonder the Dirt Dweller men sought a clean-shaven appearance. God forbid they do anything to create a stir of desire in their women.

  The cowboy’s deep voice came in loud and clear as his sensuous mouth spread into a warm smile. “Fucking A. She’s conscious. Her nose has stopped bleeding as well. Let’s get her to camp.” The handsome man leaned back on his haunches, and the sun blinded her once again. Fay opened her mouth, but only an incomprehensible gurgle of raspy air came out. She grabbed her throat.

  “Whoa, take it easy my little almond-eyed filly.”

  The owner of the other male voice she’d heard earlier stepped into view. She scanned him from head to toe. He was younger and shorter than the raven-haired cowboy called Drakker. His opened shirt revealed a powerhouse body full of muscles. A loose strand of dark brown hair swept over his shoulder the minute he leaned over her. It hung down the front of his hairless chest to elbow level. She’d never seen such long hair on a man. It intrigued her. His features were the same as the other man’s, only this version had gentle caramel eyes and a red hue to his tanned skin.

  She had to assume, based on the two good-looking men she’d seen in her viewing, and these two handsome devils, all Airborne men were attractive. Or, maybe, it was just the uniqueness of their tanned skin that got her lusty side going. These men had developed bodies—something most Dirt Dweller men didn’t have beneath their insipid white skin. It was plain to see the Airborne men worked hard, and their toned bodies showed it. They were men who could protect a woman with just their physical strength, and there was something very attractive about that.

  “Don’t talk.” The man with the light-brown eyes squatted next her and cupped her pale hands in his rusty-colored one. His flesh was warm, like the sun on her face. “Your throat is probably inflamed,” he said. “I’m sure you strained it screaming as your aircraft headed for the crash. Other than that…” He stroked his hand down her thigh all the way to her foot making her tingle. “Nothing feels broken. How do you feel?” He smiled, and she felt something within her flutter as her breath left her lungs.

  “Now that’s a stupid question, Arlo. She can’t talk. She might not even speak English,” Drakker barked.

  Arlo. Hmm, now that’s an interesting name. It fits his caramel eyes.

  “Take it easy. I didn’t finish.”

  He turned back to her as if he had heard her thoughts. His friendly smile made her return one of her own. The man’s eyes glittered with a kind of lust for life she’d never felt, until now.

  “Nod your head for yes and shake it for no. Do you feel okay?”

  Both men watched her bob her head up and down twice.

  “Good. She understands English.” Drakker stood then backed away. “Let her up.”

  She was sore, but nothing was broken or bleeding. I guess the gel shield did work. A recovery craft would be coming to find her. If she wanted to avoid the unpleasantness of being returned before she discovered the truth, she needed to get out of here and fast.

  “Do you think you can sit?”

  She moved to get up, but Arlo stopped her efforts.

  “Let her be.” Drakker reached down, clamped his large hand around her wrist, and pulled her to her feet. “She’s tough. She’s a woman after my own heart.”

  The wink he gave her before turning away made her stomach flutter.

  “Seeing that we only have two horses she can ride with me.”

  “No way! That Arabian’s too spirited, and your western saddle makes it hard to share a ride. I’ll put her on my horse. Bareback makes for an easier double up.” Arlo stood and clasped her arm in a gentle hold and guided her toward a four-legged beast. A load of supplies filled bags packed over the horse’s rump behind an ornate, leathery, padded-blanket kind of thing on the animal’s back.

  Ride? Where? She had to assume those huge animals were horses, and for some ungodly reason these men thought they could ride them. Holy shit. He can’t be serious. She widened her eyes in surprise when Drakker jumped up on the taller of the two beasts and slipped his ass onto a padded leather thing strapped to the horse. Oh God, he’s serious.

  Arlo’s horse was smaller but still looked powerful enough to trample her. She found the beasts rather intimidating, but neither man seemed to notice she didn’t want to get on either one.

  “She’ll be fine with me.” Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome reached down for her.

  “Drakker, there’s hardly enough room on your Arabian for you. The lady doesn’t need to be crushed between you and the saddle. She’s been knocked around enough already. Women are delicate creatures. She’ll ride easier with me.”

  “Stop arguing, bro, we need to get the fuck out of here.”

  Fay could not agree more, so she pulled in Arlo’s direction. He had a gentle face and a manner of speech more tailored for a woman’s taste.

  “See, dear brother of mine? She wants to go with me.”

  Fay couldn’t mista
ke Arlo’s sarcastic tone, nor did she miss the two were actual blood brothers.

  “Fine,” Drakker bellowed. “Let’s get her back to camp then we’ll decide how to get her back to town.”

  Arlo met her gaze as he circled his arms around her waist. With the strength of a plutonium-238 cyborg, he pulled her into him almost squeezing the breath from her. “Hold onto me, little filly. I’m going to saddle you.”

  She cocked her head, unsure of what he just said. She hadn’t quite figured out what a filly was, but guessed it was her. And she had no idea whatsoever what “saddling her” meant. So she stood there staring at him hoping it was something other than putting her on the animal.

  Drakker’s horse pranced in half circles as he held two leather straps looped to a metal rod in the horse’s mouth. His Arabian appeared to be a very nervous animal compared to Arlo’s quiet-mannered horse. Unlike his master’s stoic presence, the excited beast jerked its head, snorted, and lifted its tail.

  “Just get on with it, so we can get out of here.”

  She raised her hands to Arlo’s shoulders the minute he tightened his grip around her waist and lifted her. His virile strength and earthy aroma were intoxicating, making her knees feel weak. Her throat constricted. The world shimmied in front of her eyes until her butt hit the cold leather on the beast’s back and caused her to gasp for a breath.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded.

  He smiled again, and her body heated the minute he spoke.

  “You fell from the sky, my little beauty. I wonder which space station you come from?”

  She had no idea what his gentle reference about a space station meant, but the word “beauty” swept right through her, leaving her tingling.