Survivor: Survivor’s Heart book 3: Planet Athion

by Cassidy, Debbie

  A shiver ran up my spine. “Who am I fighting?”

  Wait … Why had it gone quiet all of a sudden? The pale creature backed up a step, her gaze slipping over my shoulder.

  “Rogue!” Tide called out. I scanned the pits to find him on the other side of the walkway already on his platform. But his eyes were on a point behind me.

  The thud of boots cut through the low hum of voices. I turned slowly to face the owner of the steps. Seven feet of muscle and rage, he glared down at me as if offended by my existence. He looked humanoid, but his body was out of proportion, shoulders and arms too big, head too small with no visible neck holding it up. He reminded me of those action figures you used to get on Earth with the tiny legs and huge torsos. And he was towering over me, giving off I’m-going-to-crush-you vibes.

  “What the fuck?” His voice was guttural and grating at the same time. “This some joke?”

  He could either speak English or had a chip like the rest of the people here.

  He pointed a thick finger at me. “Get lost. Not playing.”

  He was huge, and if he did manage to get a hold of me, he could probably break me. But I was fast, and being small could have its advantages.

  I placed my hands on my hips and stared up at him. “You scared, big guy?”

  He snorted derisively. “I’ll crush you.”

  “Save it for the pit,” the pale female said. But there was a quiver in her voice.

  The monolith transferred his glare to her. “You talking to me, noodle?”

  She shook her head and backed up. “Fight or leave. Braker’s rules.”

  He grumbled and stepped onto the platform. It shuddered under his weight, and then lowered him smoothly into the bowels of what would be our arena.

  “Rogue!” Tide called out again.

  His opponent was beside him, slightly taller but a similar build. He looked humanoid except for the pincers that made up his hands.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  Are you sure, a question and not an order. Boy, had we come far. I nodded and offered him two thumbs up. His jaw tightened, but he nodded curtly, stepping onto the platform alongside his opponent.

  My platform returned, and I made to step on. Slender, pale fingers wrapped around my arm.

  “Still time to walk away.” Her eyes gleamed wetly as she blinked.

  “Thank you. But I can do this.”

  She looked down into the pit, down on the monster of a male waiting for me. There was glee in those beady eyes. But I’d been up against worse and lived to tell the tale because they always underestimated me.

  I offered him a jaunty salute, then stepped onto the platform.

  I was halfway down when he charged, arms out, intent on swiping me onto the ground. Fuck you, disproportionate guy. I dove off the platform and hit the ground in a roll, coming up in time to see him attack empty space.

  There was no waiting around in this situation. If I allowed him to get his shit together, I was fucked. I attacked. Hard.

  Kicking out at the backs of his legs, the weakest part of him, I then leaped out of range of his bulky arms. He turned and barreled at me, but I evaded, sending him slamming into the rock wall with a howl.

  This was hand-to-hand, no weapons. Usually, I’d try and get a grip on his neck and cut off his air supply, but this guy had no fucking neck. It would have to be a knockout. He was rushing me again, and once again, I ducked his swipe and punched him in the kidneys.

  He was getting pissed, growling and grunting as he came at me. Yeah fucker, try and catch me.

  I caught a flash of the huge screens hovering above. Of Tide kicking ass, and almost caught a mammoth fist to my head.

  Almost.

  But slowpoke was no match for me.

  The crowd around our pit was roaring, and yes, there was laughter. Were we the comic relief? Did it matter as long as I managed to get the hits in? It was zero to eight right now. I was in the lead. Oh, and surprise, surprise, he was rushing me again. I made to dodge, but he moved fast, blocking me, and then a fist was headed for my face.

  Fuck. I tried to evade but not in time. His blow glanced off the side of my head—not the full impact, but enough to make me see stars for a second. Enough to knock me off balance, and then something slammed into my torso, sending me flying. My back hit rock, knocking the breath out of me. And then a huge hand was wrapped around my throat, pinning me to the wall.

  My brain came back online as he squeezed, enough to cut off airflow but not to kill. He knew what he was doing, and the look of delight on his horrific face told me he was reveling in this moment.

  My head felt fuzzy and light. I clawed at his hand, knowing it was futile, knowing that any second now I was going to pass out and lose this match. Lose the chance to win our way off this fucking port.

  I’d come so far. Escaped Vesper and then Marick. Found the guys I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and nothing was going to take this opportunity away from me.

  He had no neck, but he had to have balls. Right?

  A wave of adrenaline heated my veins, and I kicked out hard in a last-ditch attempt.

  His beady eyes popped open wide, and his grip on my neck slackened. It was momentary, but it was enough to allow me to breathe. I filled my lungs and brought my arms up between his outstretched ones, slamming them against the insides of his elbows and breaking his grip.

  He staggered back, looking almost relieved to be able to clutch his jewels. Time to end this. I needed momentum and power. I needed the berserker, but it was sleeping. Fucker.

  So, I ran at the wall, using my favorite parkour move to bring myself up and launch myself at him. He raised his head as I hurtled toward him, and then my fist connected with his temple with a crack.

  He went down.

  I landed neatly and kicked him in the ribs, jumping back quickly to avoid him snagging my ankle.

  He didn’t move.

  The noise level above me had dropped as if in anticipation, and then a voice echoed around the pit.

  Winner, 148.

  The crowd’s roar was almost deafening.

  My face shone down at me from the screens above, raised in triumph, and then flicked to another scene. A figure sprawled face down and another victor standing arms raised in victory.

  My heart squeezed painfully in my chest.

  I recognized those pincers.

  Which meant the figure on the ground was Tide.

  8

  VEX

  The conveyor belt moves at a slow, lumbering pace, probably because of all the crap it’s hauling. Hunks of metal, parts, and crushed metallic debris. It all ends up here, and it’s our job to pull out the recyclable stuff. At the end of the belt is the crusher that’ll squeeze all the rubbish into a cube and shoot it out for loading onto the shuttles.

  Somewhere out there is an asteroid belt made entirely of these cubes. A huge space dump called Minerva X.

  Xavier works on the opposite side of the belt, picking up stuff, examining it, and then putting it back on the belt or slinging it in a crate behind him.

  It all looks like shit to me, but Xavier has an eye for useful things.

  We don’t speak because the whirr and chug of the machines around us make it hard to hear anything else. Conversations are stored up for break time. Five minutes with a cup of water and then back to work.

  Another two hours before we can head back to the ship, back to Rogue. She’s effectively alone with Tide … will they… Not something I need to dwell on. Xavier has become close, a friend, a confidant. He’s accepted me from the start, and even though the others have grown closer, they won’t be part of our family, not until Rogue takes them.

  It will happen.

  There is no doubt in my mind, and I’d never have thought I’d be amenable to sharing a woman, but Rogue … Rogue is something else.

  The buzzer signaling break goes, and everyone drops what they’re doing and heads for the water cooler.

  We break in
shifts, so there aren’t too many of us. Fourteen to be precise. Xavier joins me as we slip into the queue.

  “Can’t wait for this shift to be over,” Xavier says.

  I grunt in response.

  “Forgotten how to speak, big guy?” He pats me on the back.

  He’s the only one here that can do that and get away with it. Anyone else would find themselves eating their own arm.

  We’re almost at the cooler when a commotion breaks out through the arch that leads to the shuttle sector.

  One of the workers from the shuttle bay heads straight for us. Fast.

  “What is it?” Xavier asks.

  The guy, some species I’ve never come across with flat features and leathery skin, babbles in some yippy language while glancing frequently over his shoulder.

  Xavier, the freak that understands way too much, nods and then freezes. Shit, has he gone pale? Hard to tell with his blue skin, but yeah, he’s lost some color.

  “Xavier? What is it?”

  Xavier grabs my arm and leads me away from the cooler and straight for the exit. “We need to go. Now.”

  “Why?”

  “Bounty enforcers. And they’re looking for Athions.”

  He doesn’t need to say any more. We break into a jog and get the hell out of there.

  9

  LORE

  The fever’s gone. My body is cool. I raise my hand and study the wound. Clean and no healing. Rogue … she was here. She tended to me. I recall her voice and her cool hands on my face. It takes a minute to realize I’m lying on her mattress in her nook, and then the absolute silence registers. I’m alone.

  Something isn’t right. Rogue should be here.

  Sitting up makes the world momentarily spin. I need water. I stagger to the kitchen and hydrate. Two glasses of water and my head feels clearer. How could I have been so neglectful? I should have disinfected the wound better, then cauterized it. I should have been more vigilant. The knowledge that I fucked up grates.

  This is my forte. Medicine and science are my strengths.

  “Rogue?” I call out, even though my instincts tell me she’s not here.

  My body is attuned to her presence, knowing where she is in the building at any given time. Right now, there’s an emptiness where that awareness should be. Unease prickles across my scalp. What’s this? A note? It’s folded and propped on the table. It’s Rogue’s cursive writing. My oral English is good, but written not so much. It takes a few minutes to comprehend what she’s written, and then my heart is pounding too hard in my chest.

  Tide agreed to this? To take her to the Cogs and enter some gauntlet? What the fuck was he thinking? No. Tide doesn’t do anything without thinking it through. This is about us losing our jobs. This is about credits and getting off this rock.

  Staying here much longer means increased risk.

  Tide’s made the logical decision, and Rogue … Rogue’s a fighter. Still, my pulse is hammering too fast. I need to find them. Boots on, I head toward the exit and freeze.

  Someone is out there. Danger.

  The knowledge flares in the back of my mind a moment before an explosion rocks the ship.

  * * *

  XAVIER

  “Shit.” Vex curses again.

  We are so screwed. There’s no way we can go back to the dump. Leather face warned us, but only because he owes me. I covered two shifts for him when his life partner was sick. The others don’t owe us shit, and no doubt the owner will be eager to cash in. We’re compromised. The ship will be the next place the bounty enforcers look. We need to get Rogue, Tide, and Lore and get out of here.

  “Where can we go?” Vex asks the question I’ve been avoiding.

  “I don’t know.”

  We are seconds from being in view of the rusted carcass of our temporary home. I pick up the pace, and Vex’s stride lengthens.

  We round a hunk of metal and step onto the walkway to the ship just as an explosion rocks the world.

  Vex and I exchange shocked glances and then break into a sprint. We clamor across the walkway and through the smoldering hole that was once the metal entrance. Smoke stings my eyes, but I’m in fight mode.

  Someone grunts. There’s the smack of fist to flesh.

  I spot a flash of blue in the corner of my eye. It’s Lore pressed to the wall by a mammoth hand. Lore slams the heel of his hand into his attacker’s face and then slides down the wall, suddenly free, as his attacker staggers back clutching his face.

  To my left, Vex is grappling with another figure.

  Lore’s gaze locks on mine and then whips to a spot behind me. My scalp prickles.

  “Watch out!” Lore yells.

  I spin in time to block a punch.

  There are guys on our ship. Uniformed, hulking guys.

  No time to think.

  Time to fight.

  10

  Tide was down. He was hurt.

  I was up on the platform in a blink. “Up! Bring me up. Now!” My eyes were on the screen above. Tide wasn’t moving. Was he breathing? Shit, shit, shit. My heart hammered against my rib cage. “Bring me up, dammit!”

  The platform began to rise.

  My muscles twitched with the need for action. Why was the damn platform moving so slowly?

  The platform finally reached the top. I leaped off it and ran around my pit and onto the walkway that led to Tide’s fighting ground. Tide was far below, and his opponent stood, head bowed, staring at him.

  The crowd was buzzing as I stepped onto Tide’s platform. “Take me down!”

  The pale-skinned creature manning this pit stared at me.

  What the fuck was he waiting for. “Now!”

  The platform began to move. Too slow. Too fucking slow. We were only a quarter of the way down when Tide’s opponent raised his head to look at me as if I was a freak.

  “Fight means injury,” he said slowly.

  “Fuck you. What did you do?” I leaped the final stretch between me and the ground. The pincer guy backed up as I approached, probably sensing the berserker within me rising to the surface. Yeah, I’d hurt him if Tide … No, don’t think like that.

  I dropped to my knees by Tide’s body, gently grasped his shoulder, and rolled him onto his back. Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. His left eye was swollen, and his cheekbone was all puffy around a razor-sharp cut.

  He’d caught a pincer to the face. My chest heaved with the need to do harm, and my vision momentarily blurred crimson. No. Not now. The berserker needed to chill. I needed to focus on Tide. I exhaled and inhaled deeply and squeezed my eyes shut. Back off. Back the fuck off.

  “You okay?” Pincer guy asked.

  A low, rumbling growl vibrated in my chest. My head whipped up to glare at Pincer guy as a feral roar tore out of my mouth. He blazed brightly in my vision, reds and blues and greens.

  “Fuck.” He stumbled back, and exhilaration coursed through me.

  Be afraid. Be fucking afraid, because I’m about to tear you limb from limb.

  And then I caught sight of myself above him in the huge holoscreen. My face was contorted in a monstrous snarl, eyes blazing yellow in my tanned face.

  This wasn’t me. That was the beast. The monster created by the Trads. I closed my eyes, listening to the pulse pounding in my head, and willed it to calm down.

  Tide. I needed to be in control for Tide.

  I opened my eyes to his face, serene and beautiful even with the injuries, and pressed my fingertips to his throat. There was a steady pulse, and his chest was moving, rising and falling evenly. He was alive. Thank God he was alive. The rush of relief was enough to put the beast inside back to sleep.

  “Tide, please wake up.” My fingers hovered above his cheek. “Tide …”

  His good eye fluttered open, and one silver iris looked up at me, dazed. “Did I win?”

  A strangled laugh spilled from my lips. “No, but you survived. And that’s enough of a win.” I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, and the crowd roared.

/>   * * *

  “Are you okay?” I held up three fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  Tide smiled wryly. “Three. I’m fine. Ego bruised, but fine.”

  He was sitting on a stool with an ice bag pressed to the side of his face. The bar was on the same level as the pit and filled with fighters looking worse for wear. The swill they were serving smelled lethal but seemed to be going down well with the patrons. I supposed that was one way to dull the pain.

  A shadow fell over us.

  “You need to come with us,” a squat, leather-faced creature said.

  Tide lowered the ice bag. “To see Braker Rock?”

  “Now,” the leather dude said.

  “Come on.” I reached to help Tide up.

  “Not him. Just you,” leather dude said.

  I met his gaze with a flat one of my own. “If I go, he goes.”

  He shrugged. “Then you stay. You forfeit your chance to be picked for the gauntlet.”

  Shit.

  “Go,” Tide said. “I’ll be here.” He raised a hand to the barman. “I’ll take another drink.”

  He looked and sounded weak. He was a pilot, a leader, a snitch, and his fighting skills were streamlined and professional. Despite what he’d said, he had no idea what dirty fighting was, and that was okay. I could fight dirty for the both of us. I had won, and this could be our way off this rock.

  I stepped between his knees so I was up close and personal. “Heal up quick, okay. We’re getting off this port, and then I’m going to want you in top form.”

  His eye darkened, and his gaze fell to my mouth.

  I kissed him softly, careful not to hurt him. “I’ll be back soon.”

  The leather guy made a grunting noise. “Follow me.”

  He led me out of the bar and to a steel door. He pressed his palm to a panel in the wall, and the doors slid open smoothly.

  A lift.

  He stepped back to allow me to enter but didn’t join me.

  The doors closed on him, and for a moment, I was enclosed in a metal box, and panic flared, hot and sudden in my chest. It’s okay. Just a few seconds and—