Текст книги "Surviving Skarr"
Автор книги: Ruby Dixon
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Surviving Skarr
ICE PLANET CLONES
BOOK TWO
RUBY DIXON
Copyright © 2023 by Ruby Dixon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Photo: VJ Dunraven Productions
Cover Design: Kati Wilde
Editing: Aquila Editing
Proofreading: Fortunate Books
Contents
Surviving Skarr
What Has Gone Before?
Content Warning
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Author’s Note
People of Not-Hoth
Want More?
Surviving Skarr
Overnight, my life has changed to one of sheer survival.
I wake up on a strange alien world covered in ice. I have no memories of myself, not even my name.
And I've resonated to the biggest braggart on the planet. Skarr is a chest-beating alpha male gladiator with lizard genetics and an intense case of self-love. He tells everyone within hearing distance how amazing he is. Bleh.
I want nothing to do with him, but according to the khui, we're soulmates. This means we're bound to have babies and live our lives out together...forever...
Not if I have anything to say about it.
To survive, I'm going to have to figure out who I am, what I am...and what to do about the man who won't shut up about how incredible and perfect I am.
It has to be an act... doesn't it?
What Has Gone Before?
(As of Flor's Fiasco)
The fruit cave has been raided, its precious contents stolen. No one from Icehome Beach has any idea what has happened. Who could have taken it all and why? A party heads to the fruit caves to investigate, among them R'jaal of the Tall Horn Clan (from the Islands) and Tia, a human woman who was abandoned with Lauren and the others.
Meanwhile, Daisy, O'jek, Flor and I'rec decide to go to the Elders Cave (aka the ship of the ancestors) to read the strange writing Penny claims to have seen upon the walls. Daisy can read alien languages and is curious if the message there holds the secret to who is stealing the fruit.
As the first party arrives at the fruit caves, the second party splits up, with Daisy and O'jek heading on for the ship. Alone, Flor and I'rec discover a scatter of stasis pods in a snow-filled valley. The pods are filled with clones, strangers with no memories of how they arrived on the planet or why. There are multiple human women, a lone human man, several 'splices' (clones made from the mutated genetic material of several races) and a few empty pods...
This is where our story picks up.
Content Warning
In an effort to be transparent with readers, I’m including a list of things that readers might find upsetting or triggering in the story. Not all triggers hit everyone the same, so if I’ve missed something, please feel free to reach out and let me know so I can update the list. Note that while my story might sound like it has heavy topics, all of it is dealt with in a lighter tone as I do not take myself (or my characters) too seriously.
SPOILERS BELOW SPOILERS BELOW SPOILERS BELOW SPOILERS BELOW SPOILERS BELOW SPOILERS BELOW SPOILERS BELOW SPOILERS BELOW SPOILERS BELOW
Amnesia
Kidnapping/Abduction
Pregnancy and the discussion of whether or not to have the baby
Animal Injury (the animal gets a HEA)
Character Injury (broken bones, no long lasting trauma)
Death and Dismemberment (off screen references)
Feelings of isolation
Parental loss (vague not specific)
Loss of identity
Cringe situations (look, some of us just have a hard time reading that sort of thing, and I get it!)
SPOILERS DONE SPOILERS DONE SPOILERS DONE SPOILERS DONE SPOILERS DONE SPOILERS DONE SPOILERS DONE SPOILERS DONE SPOILERS DONE
Chapter One
THE STRANGER
I wake up to brutal cold leaking into my room.
Gasping, I sit up in bed—and hit my head on what feels like a lid. With a whimper, I rub a hand over my face and I’m startled to feel a breeze. My eyes are unfocused and I need to get out of bed and find my contacts. But when I go to swing my legs over the side of the bed, I realize I’m…not in bed at all.
It’s some sort of coffin. Or pod. Something with sides. A warm box surrounded by ice cold. I squint at my surroundings, terrified.
Am I dead? Did I just wake up in a morgue?
A breeze caresses my hair and sends a chill down my spine. I ditch the “morgue” theory and head right to “graveyard.” A graveyard in…winter? I squint, trying to make out my surroundings but it’s near impossible without glasses or contacts. My vision has always been horrendous and I’m trying not to be too terrified of the fact that I don’t know where I am or why I’m not wearing warm clothes. The strange box-thing I’m in is dark, but the rest of the world looks pale. Pale white and gray.
I lick my lips, not sure if I should call out. Surely there’s been a mistake somewhere.
“You awake?” a woman calls out.
Oh, thank goodness. Someone else is here.
I raise a hand into the air timidly, trying to make out a person in the endless white. When she comes up on my other side, I have to fight back a shriek of fright at being startled, but she clasps my hand and her skin is warm.
“I’m Flor, and you need to know that you’re safe, okay?”
What can I say to that? I manage a nod. It’s clear she knows what’s going on and I don’t, so I’m content to let her lead.
“Come on,” she says. “Let’s get you out of that pod.” She gives my hand a firm tug and pats the side of the pod. It sounds like metal, and when I climb out of it, it’s so cold that my skin sticks ever so slightly to the side, which is a horrible feeling.
Even worse? When my feet touch the ground, it’s icy. I let out a whimper of distress, then bite my lip to keep silent. My feet are bare, and glancing down, it looks like I’m stepping on some sort of yellow-brown spongy grass that ends near my pod and extends outward.
“You’re on the edge of the group, so you’ve got a bit more to walk,” the woman says with an apologetic note, propping an arm around my side as if to support me. “But we’ll get you over to the fire and get you warm and figure out some clothing, all right? So just hang tight. We won’t let you freeze.”
I manage a nod.
“Great. You’re doing great.” She beams up at me, all sun-browned skin, dark hair and white teeth. My vision’s too blurry to make out who she is, but her eyes seem oddly blue and glowing bright in her tan face. “What’s your name, my friend?”
Opening my mouth to speak, I pause. Something that should be easily in reach just…isn’t. I search through my memories, looking for something that sounds like a name, but I don’t have anything. Anything at all.
It’s a blank.
Panicked, I cling to her arm. “I…I don’t know.”
“It’s okay, honey,” she tells me in a soothing voice, continuing to lead me away from the “pod” and towards the blurry distance. “You’re not the only one that doesn’t know your name. Probably some medication side-effect and nothing to panic over. Let’s give you a name for now, okay? Just so I don’t have to call you ‘Hey you’?”
“Okay,” I manage in a small voice.
“How about Vivian? That’s my sister’s name and I always thought it was pretty.”
Vivian. Vivian. I test it and it doesn’t bring anything in particular to mind except one thing. “Like…from Pretty Woman?”
“Exactly like it. How’d you guess?” She chuckles, and the sound is friendly and kind.
I want to tell her that I hate the name. That it makes me feel awkward, because I’ve never been pretty, not even in the slightest. I’m nothing like my sister. I have a gawky frame and wide-spaced eyes that look strange in photographs. My boobs are nonexistent and my hair is flat and limp and sad. I don’t want to be Vivian. I don’t want anyone to realize where the name comes from and laugh at me.
But Flor seems to know what’s going on and I don’t, and my confused terror mingles with my desire to blend into the background, and so I say nothing at all.
She leads me over to what looks like a fire, and others are huddled close by. A man moves, covered in a strange blue jumpsuit that covers his entire body, and it takes me a moment to realize that it’s not a jumpsuit, but that he really is blue. Another muffled gasp escapes me, and I flinch backward.
Flor is there to pat me on the arm again. “That’s my husband, I’rec. He’s an alien but I promise he means you no harm. Just trust me, okay? I’ll explain it all once everyone is safe by the fire.”
An alien…?
Numb, I sit on the boulder she indicates and something warm is tossed around my shoulders that feels like a fur coat. Shivering, I search it for armholes and find none, so I just wrap it around my body and try to make sense of what’s going on around me as I huddle near the fire. Others are being led towards our fire and I can hear someone crying. I desperately wish I had glasses or contacts with me because this is triggering all my old fears about going blind. That my vision—bad since early childhood—will continue to get worse until I can see nothing at all. I touch my face furtively to make sure that I’m not wearing my glasses, and I’m relieved that I’m not. That’s something, at least.
My teeth chatter and I hunch over, trying to make myself small. Why are there aliens here?
Where is here?
“You,” the blue man says, pointing in my direction. His accent is thick and he sounds irritated, which just makes me quiver even harder. “You are still cold?” When I manage a nod, he makes an impatient sound. “You and the female next to you, huddle together. Share warmth.”
“Right,” says the woman next to me. “I should have known that.” She opens up her blanket and I move in next to her, tucking mine around our legs. She’s got blonde hair and seems to be about my age. “I’m Sabrina. Do you know what’s going on?”
I shake my head. I genuinely have no idea. “I don’t have my glasses either.”
“Shit.” Sabrina tucks the blanket closer around us. “I wish this was a bad dream.”
Me, too.
“What’s your name?”
Inwardly I wince, but I offer the one that Flor gave me because I still don’t have anything else. “Vivian?”
“You say it like it’s a question.”
Oh, it is.
Flor returns a few moments later with another blurry-looking person and then announces, “I have more blankets if anyone’s still cold.”
God, I would love another blanket. I could sleep in a pile of them and still be cold. But I don’t want to be a problem. Well, more of a problem than I already am. I bite my lip, waiting to see if there are any left as others get up and grab another blanket, and when they’re all gone, I’m disappointed in myself. Even in this strange, terrible situation, I still can’t find the courage to speak up for myself.
Some things never change.
“Food,” the alien man barks, holding something out to a figure nearby. They take it and then pass it along, and it makes its way to Sabrina. Someone coughs and then Sabrina digs in the bag, getting a handful of what looks like trail mix. She passes the bag to me and I take a small handful, because I need to leave enough for the others, and then turn to pass it to the person on my other side. To my surprise, it looks like a man with green skin. He takes it from me, and when I lean in enough to make out his face, I’m startled to see that he has scales on his face, dotting his brow, and pointed ears that wing up. His eyes have slitted pupils and a yellow sclera, and despite all this weirdness, there’s something handsome and strangely appealing about him.
He studies me as I hand him the bag, and then his expression grows dismissive, his gaze focusing on Sabrina instead. It’s something I’m very familiar with. No one finds me interesting. In this scenario, that’s not a bad thing, though. I mentally dismiss him, too, and return to my seat.
Sabrina’s making little choked noises as she tries to eat. I hesitantly nibble on a bit of what feels like granola, and immediately start coughing. Is it made entirely of pepper? My mouth burns and I cough.
“I think you just pepper sprayed my mouth!” someone cries out.
The bluish alien harrumphs. “Trying to save you,” he mutters, stabbing at the fire. “Eat, don’t eat, I don’t care.”
“I think that’s everyone,” Flor announces when she returns. “Ten women, five men, and three empty pods. Did anyone see where they went?”
The alien gets up and moves to her side, and they talk quietly, ignoring us for a moment. I glance over at Sabrina, and her expression is that of stoic despair.
“Do you remember how you got here?” she asks me. “Or what day it is?”
I shake my head. I keep trying to pull thoughts forward—where I’m from, what this place is, how I know Sabrina or any of the others—and I’m drawing a blank. Your name, I prompt myself. Try to remember your name.
I’m…
I’m…
Shit. I guess I’m Vivian, because I’ve got nothing. I glance down at my hands, because I have a mental image of a tiny finger tattoo in my mind. A quotation mark, to remind myself to speak up. I got it once because I was always looking at my hands when I should be saying something…didn’t I?
Because my hands are blurry, but there’s no black ink anywhere on them.
I turn my palms over, studying my hands again in case I missed something, and that’s when I notice the slender silver bracelet on my wrist. Even though my vision is horrid, I can still make out what looks like a red button on the underside. Curious, I run my fingers over it, and as I do, it flashes. I hold it closer to my nose, and then push the button firmly.
The air crackles, like a speaker with feedback, and then an image appears, projected from the bracelet itself.
I gasp in shock, holding my arm out as if getting the image away from me will somehow help. The picture looks three-dimensional and features an older-looking woman with the same blue skin as the alien and a wealth of tattoos on one side of her face.
“Lucky you,” the image says, clapping her hands once. “Turns out, you’re a clone. And not just any clone, but an illegally made one. Normally an illegally made clone is immediately euthanized, but someone with a lot of credits paid to have you dropped off somewhere safe and hidden away. So, here you are.” The recording spreads her hands wide. “It’s a little chilly here, but the locals are nice and they’ll take care of you. Tell Daisy and Mardok I said hello, and that I hope they’re getting keffed hard and regularly by their respective mates. As for you, my little clone, I left you some supplies. Play nice with your new buddies and have a great life.”
Clone? Who’s a clone?
Me?
Frowning, I hit the button again, and the loop starts to play once more. At my side, Sabrina touches her wrist and the same communication pops up, with the same recording.
“Lucky you. Turns out, you’re a clone. And not just any clone—”
“—but an illegally made one.”
A chorus of recordings hits the air, the message layering over and over again.
“Normally an illegally made clone is euthanized—”
I slap at my bracelet, trying to get it to turn off. If this is some sort of joke, it isn’t funny.
“Is a clone what I think it is?” someone asks in a small voice. “Like a duplicate person? Are we all duplicate people?”
“But…that doesn’t make any sense,” says another woman.
“Does any of this make sense?” asks another. She’s got a thicker accent, either Spanish or Portuguese, and dark hair. “Because I can’t think of a reason why my ass is naked in the snow next to a blue guy. There’s either some really good drugs involved or this is legit.”
“Drugs would be nice,” Sabrina says wistfully. She reaches over and pinches me.
“Ow!”
“I think we’re awake. Do you feel drugged?”
I shake my head, rubbing my arm. “Just cold.”
“I don’t feel like a clone,” someone else says. “What does a clone feel like exactly?”
My stomach churns. I don’t feel like a clone, either. I feel normal. But I can’t help but think of Flor and her question to me earlier. What’s your name? And I still don’t have an answer.
“So what happens now?” I whisper to Sabrina.
She just shakes her head, her eyes wide. If there’s answers, she doesn’t have them, either.
Chapter Two
SKARR
Just like with every new environment I find myself in, I assess the situation.
Cold.
Cold is not ideal, as my ssethri biology doesn’t do well with cold. It’s one reason that I was spliced with mesakkah genes—a stiff and slow gladiator benefits no one. I’ll have to be extra careful, push a little harder, just because I’m handicapped with the frigid temperatures. Even now, my joints ache and my tail feels like an icy log and I’ve only been out here a matter of minutes.
But I’ll deal with it. It’s just another challenge, and I’ve dealt with challenges before.
I crouch low near the fire, watching the others. I’m trying not to make my discomfort obvious, and failing. New plan, then. I let them think I’m more affected than I am, so when I fight, they don’t use their full power. I can make this half-frozen state work to my advantage. Lifting my hands toward the fire, I surreptitiously eye the others.
There’s both males and females mingling together. That’s…new. I skim through my memories, looking for implanted fights that aren’t gender-based and find none. Hmm. Perhaps this is a survival game of some kind, then? Whoever succeeds in staying alive the longest wins? This makes more sense to me.
“We’re clones?” one female sobs, as if the idea horrifies her.
Is it a surprise to the females, then? I have always known I am a clone. All splices are grown in labs and implanted with combat rules and regulations. I have distant memories of an older “Skarr” that won many battles, hence I have been created from his genetic material.
It makes sense to clone the best, after all.
As my gaze skims over the females, mentally, I dismiss them as combatants. They are not fighters. Even now they huddle and look soft and useless. Prizes, then. Or distractions. If they are surprised they are clones, they have not been implanted with battle memories and rules. They will not know how to play.
I eye the other splices nearby. The one nearest to me watches the females with glazed eyes. Praxiian dominant, if I don’t miss my guess. There’s a full-blooded praxiian as well, and what looks like a moden splice. And there’s even a soft-looking human male, his form hunched over with his arms crossed over his chest.
I size up his build. Another prize, I decide. That one won’t be winning any sort of combat trials.
All right. There are three other gladiators that look problematic and one mesakkah wearing furs and tending to the fire. I don’t know if he’s a combatant but he looks strong enough. This many females for so few males is puzzling, though. Do we win them through bouts? I’m not sure I want to win multiple prizes.
One female will be plenty.
I shift on my feet, sliding my tail closer to the fire. No clothes, no weapons. All right. I’ll have to rely on my teeth and my strength. I don’t have claws like the praxiians do, or horns like the mesakkah and one of the splices, but my scales are good armor. It’ll even the odds.
Kef, it’s cold. I’m not going to have to play up being sluggish. Everything in me aches. Truly, whoever is running this particular battle scenario could not have come up with a worse one for me. I move a little closer to the warmth yet again and cast another look at the gladiators. The other males have slitted eyes, assessing one another and I don’t want them to catch me doing the same. I focus my attention on the females instead.
If they’re to be prizes, I should pick out the one I want. A tall one, I decide. Perhaps the one with the bright yellow hair. She’s sharing a blanket with a smaller, softer-looking female who is terrified. Our eyes meet and she hunches down, quickly glancing away. She moves closer to the yellow-hair and I plan how to separate them and steal the one I want. Females tend to kick and scratch and flail, but a quickly snapped neck might do the trick. She won’t be more than a temporary problem. As I watch, she taps the message on her bracelet again, playing it once more.
“Okay, guys, listen up.”
A fur-clad female with golden skin and glowing blue eyes moves to the center of our huddled group, her hands raised to her shoulders. “Put your bracelets away. They probably all say the same thing. We don’t know if that’s the truth or not, and whoever dumped you here isn’t around to tell us. So here’s what we’re going to do. You’re all safe here with us. You’re probably tired and confused. You’re not going to think straight coming straight out of one of those pods. Trust me, I know. We’ll rest here overnight and then we’re going to get you khuis.”
Safe.
Khuis.
I narrow my gaze, watching the other males. They seem just as on-edge as me. No one is buying this “safe” nonsense. If they know what a “khuis” is, they’re not saying. They’re like me, ready to spring into action once the alarm sounds, or the bell rings, or whatever indication we have that things are beginning.
We’re waiting for the rules of the game.
The fur-wearing female isn’t aware of this, though. She continues to smile at all of us, turning to look at both females and males alike. “This planet requires that you have a symbiont to take care of you. With the symbiont, you’ll heal faster, and you won’t be so cold. You won’t feel it inside you, either, so don’t worry about that. Some of our friends are headed this way, and then we’re going to help you go back to our village on the beach. We’ll get you set up and comfortable. I just want you to know that you’re safe with us, and there are no alien overlords or slave owners or anything.”
That makes me pause. It sounds like no one is in charge of the game?
Perhaps there’s no game after all. Perhaps we’ve been cast out for being defective. My gut clenches. I don’t care what the bracelet or the woman in the image says. I know one thing and one thing only—how to battle. It doesn’t make sense for me to be here if there’s not a fight.
But the female must notice my skeptical look. “We have friends that used to be fighters and are now living peacefully with us.”
Peacefully…? I doubt that very much. Likely they are playing a long game and this foolish creature has mistaken it for peace.
I decide to test that theory. The cold makes my jaw clench, makes it difficult to spit words out. “What if…we…don’t want…to stay?”
She has an answer for this, too. “We’ll get you set up on your feet and give you enough food and clothing, and then you can go. No one’s keeping anyone captive. You’re free to do as you like. But we hope you stay and become part of our people. Our family.”
Family?
Fools. I am on a planet of fools.
Rubbing my hands near the warmth of the fire, I’m trying to keep from laughing aloud at the female speaking to the group. She thinks this place is friendly and kind?
Clearly she has no idea what is going on. Then again, neither do I. Is that part of this particular game, then? Are we to locate some sort of data pad with rules? Is that the first piece of the puzzle? I consider this.
The female with the glowing eyes continues to talk to the prizes—the soft ones that are clearly not here to fight—and reassures them. She tells them how she woke up here confused but the blue male with the horns helped her out. I eye the two of them together, and it is clear she is his prize.
So that is his method. He has tricked the female into coming to him. Clever. Very clever. I shall have to watch that one closely, see if I can learn his tricks.
“We don’t have a lot of technology here. We have to hunt to survive,” the glowing-eyed female says.
I prick to attention at that.
Hunting?
Hunting I know well. There is a game here after all.
