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  The PeeVee banked right and then slowed to a sedate speed as it flew over a pedestrian promenade leading to the massive imperial palace. A ground crew strung boughs of pink and plum blossoms along the walk, while others shot floating flowers high into the air. As the PeeVee advanced over the promenade, color exploded on both sides as if welcoming them to the palace.

  “Is there a festival going on?” he asked.

  “No, we are preparing for the imperial bonding ceremony—the day after tomorrow.”

  “I didn’t realize the wedding, uh, bonding ceremony, was so soon.”

  The guard nodded. “It follows the Sha’A’la.”

  “The bride fight.” March nodded. A woman’s mate proved his worthiness by battling a challenger. The Sha’A’la harkened to the days when warring tribes stole brides from rival clans, although it was purely ceremonial now, part spectator sport, part theater.

  The guard arched her eyebrows. “You’re familiar with the custom?”

  “I’ve heard a bit about it.” Jules had mentioned it in passing, and the database in the microprocessor embedded between the two hemispheres of his brain filled in the details she’d omitted. “My understanding is marriages are arranged, so it’s predetermined who’s going to win?”

  “Correct.” The guard grinned. “But, we like to pretend it could go otherwise.”

  “I see,” he lied. There was no such thing as a mock fight in Cyber Operations. When he had fought, his opponents had died. No pretense. His cyborg brain had recorded every death. The enemies he’d disposed of didn’t bother him, but the innocents he’d been unable to save did. When the atrocities he’d witnessed had gotten too much to take, he’d resigned from Cy-Ops and gone to work for Moonbeam before he burned out. A university professor, he’d never planned to become a cyberoperative. No one did. They all came to Cy-Ops the hard way—a tragedy, a visit from Carter then reconstructive cybernetic surgery.

  “Is this your first visit?” the guard asked.

  “Yes. But I met someone from here.” He paused. “Her name was Jules. Do you know her?”

  “My sister’s name is Jules,” she said.

  March swept his gaze over the woman’s face. Other than her piercing eyes, the irises solid black, there was no resemblance, but his heart hammered anyway, and he had to ask. “Did your sister study off planet—on Terra?”

  The guard laughed. “Not yet—she is only fifteen solar cycles—but she wants to. She’s convinced this is the most boring planet in the galaxy. ‘There’s nothing to do here!’ she complains.”

  He forced a chuckle. “Teenagers are the same everywhere, I guess.”

  “Jules is one of our most popular names,” the guard added.

  He knew that. His search had turned up thousands of Juleses, but none of them was the right one.

  Ping! Ping! An encrypted wireless message from Cyber Operations shot into his brain. Though he only freelanced, he was still connected to the cyborg network. Once a cyberoperative, always a cyberoperative, even if you weren’t on the regular payroll.

  Have you arrived on Xenia yet? Carter asked.

  Just got here. On my way to the palace. Had arrived at the palace. The PeeVee pulled up to an imposing columned structure. The way it sparkled under the pink light suggested the construction material may be crystal. Cybervision recorded the image, and his microprocessor analyzed it. Yep. Xenian crystal. With a hiss, the PeeVee lowered to ground level. What’s up?

  I need a favor.

  March’s human sixth sense warned the favor would cost him, but how did you say no to the man who had saved your life? Sure. What is it?

  I need you to attend the bonding ceremony of Princess Julietta and her consort.

  He laughed aloud.

  The guard looked at him.

  “I’m sorry. My mind wandered,” he apologized, and shot back to Carter, I’m not on the guest list. I can’t crash the emperor’s daughter’s wedding. But if he could extend his visit, he’d have more time to look for Jules.

  You’re on the guest list now. Penelope Aaron got you an invite. And, remember, it’s called a bonding ceremony. Xenians don’t marry, they bond.

  Right. He knew that. Marriage was a legal status that could be dissolved with the agreement of both parties. A bond could not be broken for any reason, not even if one’s mate turned out to be a homicidal maniac. Fortunately, Xenians were a gentle, peaceful people so they didn’t need to worry.

  The PeeVee opened, the guard gestured, and March exited the vehicle.

  What’s so important about the ceremony?

  The ceremony itself—nothing. However, every VIP on the planet will attend, including the councilors who advise the emperor. See who might be favorable to an outpost. Plant some seeds.

  I’ll do what I can, but if Brock and Penelope are here, why do you need me? He’d never been able to tell Carter no, but he tried to wiggle out of attending the wedding. In the little time left before he had to report back to Moonbeam, he needed to look for Jules. But he couldn’t if he was stuck at some bonding ceremony.

  Everyone knows Penelope is with the AOP, and many had opposed Xenia joining the alliance, but since you won’t be representing anyone, people might be more apt to speak freely, Carter said. The more eyes and ears I have, the better the chance of getting some useful intel. I’ve already cleared the extra time with Dale.

  What Carter wanted, Carter got. Everyone owed him, and Moonbeam’s boss was a cyborg on the Cy-Ops payroll. Okay.

  Stay unobtrusive. Don’t get involved; don’t draw attention to yourself.

  Roger. If anyone asks about me, what’s my cover story?

  The truth. You came to deliver a spaceship.

  The truth minus a few details. Sounds easy enough.

  Great. Thanks. I wish you’d consider reenlisting in Cy-Ops. We need you.

  “This way, please.” The male guard gestured for March to precede him.

  Hey, I have to go, he said. Cyborgs could carry on a cyber-conversation while doing almost anything, but he tired of telling Carter no all the time, and probably the director wearied of hearing it. I’ll keep you posted.

  With flourish, two liveried servants swung open the massive doors to the palace. The doormen weren’t military, as they would be on almost any other planet, where they would also be armed.

  His escorts had behaved more like hosts or tour guides, welcoming him to their planet with a friendliness and curiosity on the wane everywhere else. With Lamis-Odg terrorizing the galaxy, many planets had become wary of alien visitors.

  Xenia hadn’t acquired the wariness because of its lack of exposure to other cultures. Although its citizens were permitted to travel to other planets, the planet had limited visitors, and only a select few aliens had been allowed to set foot on Xenia.

  Flanked by his entourage, March swept into the grand hall.

  Chapter Two

  “The alterations to your bonding gown have been completed. Would you like to try it on?” The servant’s arm trembled from the effort of holding up the heavy garment weighted by thousands of crystals.

  Two more days until the bonding. No—not even. A day and a half. Tomorrow night would be the pre-bonding banquet when she would get her first glimpse of the man who would become her consort. The following day, when the star rose to its zenith, she would watch as he vanquished his opponent in the Sha’A’la, and immediately after, while the sweat cooled on his body, they would be bonded as lifemates.

  “Not at the moment, but thank you. You may put it there for now.” Julietta gestured to a rack where the matching huber-colored pantalets hung. Beside it, on a stand, rested her crystal-encrusted crown. Between the headdress and the shift, she would be carrying an extra fifty kilograms of weight.

  “As you wish, Princess.” The servant left.

  Marji’s eyes were wide. “You don’t want to see what it looks like? Come, on! I’ll help you.” She scooted off the bed. “Try it on, please?”

  “All right,” she c
apitulated. The tailors had done an excellent job, but it wouldn’t hurt to verify the garment fit—and it would make Marji happy. At only sixteen solar cycles, her younger sister’s bonding wouldn’t occur for several years. Like most girls her age, she talked about her future ceremony constantly, planning what she would wear, who would attend—and wondering who her mate would be.

  Julietta stripped down to her panties and a lacy bra. She’d adopted Terran undergarments when she’d attended school off planet. For the bonding ceremony—and thereafter for the rest of her life—she would wear the traditional one-piece Xenian undergarment. Her choice of underwear—one more thing bonding would force her to give up.

  She pulled on the pantaloons sewn in the royal huber fabric. Shimmering threads of pale rose were woven throughout so that the garment sparkled. Marji undid the fastening of the shift and held it out. Julietta slipped her arms through it, and her sister did up the back.

  The weight of her world rested on her shoulders.

  Her sister reached for the headdress.

  “That, too?” she protested, but bent at the knees so the crown could be settled on her head. Her legs threatened to buckle, but she shored up her strength and remained upright.

  “You look beautiful. Just like an empress!” Marji gushed.

  “How appropriate, considering,” she replied dryly.

  The ceremony brought her closer to becoming the sovereign. The bonding—and production of an heir—were the only two hurdles left. Then, when her father passed the scepter upon his fifty-first solar cycle, she would rule with her consort at her side.

  The last time she’d tried on the dress, the crystals hadn’t yet been sewn on. She took a few exploratory steps.

  “How does it feel?”

  Crushing. “Fine.”

  “It’s perfect!” Marji said.

  Could she walk down the aisle without toppling over, without bursting into tears, without making a spectacle of herself in front of thousands?

  She would have to—what choice did she have? As firstborn, she was heir apparent. Her future had been decided on the day of her birth, twenty-five solar cycles ago. “Let’s take it off now.” She lifted the crown from her head and tilted her neck from side to side in relief. Marji undid the back of the shift and removed the garment. While she hung up the tunic, Julietta donned her clothing.

  “I can’t sleep, I’m so excited for you,” Marji said. “Tomorrow night, you get to see your consort! I don’t know why you never chose to see him before this. As future empress, you receive special dispensation and could have seen him if you’d wanted to. I would have jumped at the chance!” She sighed. “But, like everyone else, I won’t see my future mate until the Sha’A’la and won’t meet him until the bonding ceremony.”

  “Whether I see him or not, the future will proceed as scheduled,” Julietta said.

  “Father says he’s very kind. Mother says he’s supernova!” she said. “That means handsome.”

  “I know what it means. Mother has been watching too many Terran vids.”

  Marji giggled, and, despite herself, Julietta smiled.

  Though she hadn’t seen Earth herself, their mother loved Terran culture and had encouraged her eldest daughter to study there and explore the wonders of the Blue Planet before fulfilling her duty. Julietta had had two glorious years of freedom, two glorious years of being “Jules,” two glorious years of being just another Terran Technical Institute student, two glorious years with a man who most definitely qualified as supernova, two glorious years to pretend the future would never come.

  But destiny and duty had loomed, never far from her mind. The longer she stayed on Terra, the more painful the thought of leaving became. For her own salvation, she’d returned earlier than planned. And lived to regret every day. She didn’t doubt the acceptability of her chosen mate. The seer had selected him, and the old woman never erred. Her mate would be kind, valorous, steady, and true. A man to stand at her side and help her rule. Perfect in every way—except he wasn’t him.

  “Do you think there’s any chance my chosen will attend your bonding ceremony?” Marji asked.

  “Hoping for a glimpse of him, are you?” She smiled. “It’s possible.” Ten thousand guests would attend.

  Many girls played Guess-My-Chosen, checking out young men their age, wondering, “Could it be him?” They pointed out callow, immature boys and teased each other. “He’s your chosen!” Elders frowned upon such ill-mannered and mean behavior, but most girls did it—and then grew out of it.

  Julietta had never played the game, though she’d caught her younger sister at it.

  Marji’s face turned serious. “Can I confess something? I have been jealous. I am pleased for your good fortune, but, at times, I envy your bonding.”

  Moderation governed life. If inappropriate strong emotions did occur, one should confront them so they did not cause harm.

  Strong emotion—negative or positive—undermined peace and stability. If people were left to seek their own life partners, their impassioned, impetuous choices could result in incompatibility or jealousy. So the seer and her acolytes selected one’s mate. Guided by the wisdom of the ancients, they meditated, and a person’s chosen was revealed in a vision. With the imperial family, the seer herself picked their mates.

  Partners grew to care for each other, but in a companionable, affectionate manner, divorced from passion.

  “You will be bonded after you reach your majority,” Julietta reassured her. “I’m sure the seer has chosen someone who is supernova!”

  “It’s not just that. You will be empress, and I never will be. It is wrong of me, but at times I wished to be you.”

  I wish you were me, too. “Then my bonding ceremony will teach you how to control your emotions,” she said gently. After what had happened on Terra, it would be hypocritical to fault her sister, but she instructed her as she was supposed to.

  Why had tradition decreed the one who wanted to rule could not and the one who didn’t would? The visit to Terra had deepened her discontent because, after living among the Earthers, she’d discovered what she’d missed, what her life had lacked. Like Marji, she envied. She longed to express open, honest emotion, to choose her fate—and her mate. The liberties Terrans took for granted, she jealously craved.

  Hungry for freedom, she’d been eager to experience everything Terra had had to offer. Enrolling in the Terran Technical Institute as an alien exchange student under the name Jules symbolized her borrowed anonymity. On Terra, she could be one of many, a liberated nobody.

  At the start of her first year at the university, she’d met him, a teaching assistant in one of her classes. Marchand Fellows had a quick mind, a ready quip, and a wicked grin. But, oh, his eyes! Such a striking color. Blue like the Terran sky, so very different from black irises concealing whatever lukewarm emotions her people did feel. March’s eyes had glinted with humor, pensiveness, concern. They had fascinated her.

  When he’d catch her watching him, he’d wink. She’d feared he’d suffered a facial tic until another student explained he was flirting—and then explained what that meant.

  Finally, he had approached her after class and asked her to coffee. Two firsts: Terran coffee and a date. The first was bitter, the second oh-so-sweet; both thrilled her.

  He probably didn’t remember her, and if he did, the memories would have faded. Terrans enjoyed so many liberties; she would have been only one of many women March would date. She could not have meant as much to him as he had to her. Not a day went by that she didn’t think of him. Because of him, she’d departed Terra before finishing her education. It hadn’t been the degree she’d been after, but the experience, and she’d gotten that and more. Much more, her aching heart could attest.

  “You’re right, of course.” Marji nodded. “I wish I had your self-containment. I will work on it.”

  Her sister had no idea what Julietta contained inside.

  Marji continued, “To focus on what one cannot h
ave doesn’t foster harmony or happiness.”

  Truer words were never spoken.

  Claimed by the Cyborg book description

  March Fellows assumed he had all the time in the galaxy to pursue a relationship with Jules, an alien exchange student from Xenia, until she vanished without a trace. After years of searching, he finds his lost love on the eve of her arranged marriage.

  The daughter of the Xenian emperor, Julietta, never meant to fall in love with a Terran man while visiting Earth. Leaving to fulfill her responsibilities on her home planet opened up a hole in her heart that could never be filled. When March, now a cyborg, unexpectedly shows up just before she is to be bonded, she struggles to find the courage to turn him away a second time and follow through with her duty.

  Before she can act, the lovers are thrust into a political conspiracy that threatens the Xenian empire and their lives.

  Claimed by the Cyborg is a standalone read in the Cy-Ops Sci-fi Romance series.

  Chapter Three

  “Perhaps you would care to watch the Sha’A’la practice?” the emperor asked.

  March had planned to sneak out of the palace to look for Jules. Watching two men in a theatrical battle didn’t interest him, but declining the invitation would be rude. Sure enough, he’d been added to the bonding ceremony guest list. He hadn’t expected anything but a perfunctory business greeting and transaction, but once the emperor had discovered he knew Penelope Aaron and Brock Mann, he had been given the imperial treatment. Any friend of Brock and Penelope’s was a friend of Dusan’s. March stifled a sigh. “I would be honored.”

  “Excellent.” The emperor beamed. “A servant will escort you to the arena.”

  “Thank you.” He didn’t tell him that he could find his own way. Sprawling over twenty-five acres, the palace had hundreds of rooms, but he had an unerring sense of direction and had downloaded a schematic to his cyberbrain.

  Plum and pink flowers and ribbons festooned the huge oval arena, which could seat ten thousand spectators. Servants scurried around putting the finishing touches to the decorations.