Alien Gladiator's Claim Read online

  Alien Gladiator’s Claim

  Star Gladiators Book 1

  Zara Starr

  Copyright © 2020 by Zara Starr

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations in book reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Star Gladiators

  About Zara Starr

  Also by Zara Starr

  Chapter One

  Mal

  Mal crouched low, waiting for his opponent to attack. He held his hands up, his fingers loose, ready to counter an attack. Or evade it. When he was in the ring, Mal knew exactly who he was and what he was doing. Out here, he was not just a gladiator, but a warrior.

  His opponent hissed at him, studying him with all its eyes. The six of them scattered across the awkward head haphazardly, as if there had been no plan. The Hucan were known for their speed. Despite their strange eyes, they could gauge their targets well. Their large limbs made it seem as if they would be clumsy, but they could move faster than any other alien Mal had ever come across.

  And Mal had come across quite a few during his battles in the ring.

  This Hucan had claws that were longer than what Mal had experienced before too. Razor-sharp and long enough that the Hucan could gut Mal if it got a good grip on him. Its sharp fangs were dripping menace – a proper opponent for a change. Mal preferred when it was a challenge.

  The Hucan attacked again, letting out a piercing squeal that only riled up the crowd around the ring. Whenever it looked like it could get gory, the crowd went wild.

  Mal tuned out the noise and turned his attention inward – to his instincts, to his training. He just had to stay focused. He could almost anticipate how the creature was going to move. That helped. Because if he was going in blind… if the Hucan did something Mal didn’t expect… The creature was too fast and Mal would come in at a distant second.

  When you were fighting to the death, you didn’t want to come in second. It was all or nothing.

  Mal bobbed in one direction and then ducked the opposite way, confusing the creature and avoiding the attack. He was going to keep doing it – the Hucan was too dumb to learn from its mistakes. If Mal kept it up, he would escape the claws and fangs for the most part.

  A couple of times, the razor-sharp claws had sliced through Mal’s skin. Bright red blood flowed out of the wounds and dripped onto the floor, but it was just an annoyance – making his grip slick, making it harder to hold onto something if he had to.

  Mal didn’t feel any pain.

  It was one of the Karzem traits. It was why he was so popular as a gladiator slave. It was why so many Saithin Masters wanted fighters like him.

  Mal wiped his arm against his pant leg, getting rid of the blood, and jumped back when the Hucan attacked again. Defense, defense, defense. It was how Mal was planning on winning this fight. He was sure he could withstand the attempted attacks until the Hucan tired himself out. He just had to make sure he didn’t lose too much blood.

  The fight wasn’t a particularly interesting one. The crowd liked it more when there was a lot of action – skin ripping, bones snapping. So far, Mal had only been evading his opponent. He hadn’t really been on the attack. He knew that the energy around him would pick up if he did something spectacular but his Master wouldn’t care.

  The only thing his Saithin Master was interested in was the money and prizes Mal won for him. He didn’t care much about audience satisfaction or offering adequate entertainment.

  Mal could feel his Master’s eyes on him, watching his every move. Deciding if he was going to win – if he was worth raking in another few prizes. Because the moment a gladiator wasn’t worth the effort anymore, he was thrown away.

  Mal didn’t know what happened to gladiators that were rejected. He didn’t know if they were killed, reassigned to some menial job, or tucked away in a dark mine somewhere. He wasn’t planning on finding out. He was a good fighter and he won most of his battles. He was a good investment. That was the reason he was here.

  The prizes were all up on the stage next to the presenter’s booth. The machines, the bags of money and the ornaments were already there. The rest would come later.

  A lot of things could be won at these fights; prizes like advanced technology developed by the Saithin, impossible to find otherwise, or a large amount of money. The Saithin really knew how to draw attention. Of course, the favorite was the females. Everyone was after winning a live prize.

  Women from every alien race across the galaxy were caught and paraded on the stage, offered as prizes to the gladiators who won. That was why there was such a big interest. The gladiator fad had grown into a sport that was followed right across the Galaxy.

  The women were the biggest attraction.

  Mal’s Master was more interested in money though. But it didn’t make a difference. Whatever his Master wanted, Mal won for him. He fought, he killed, he won.

  The Hucan was getting tired. It was barely noticeable to the untrained eye, but Mal had been fighting all his life. He knew what to look out for. He noticed it in the way the Hucan slightly dragged his left leg before spinning around to deliver a kick. The way his chest rose and fell faster than before, gasping for air, where the breathing had seemed steady before.

  The sickening grayish color of the skin that turned to a dirty silver with sweat.

  Soon, Mal was going to be able to make his move. He just had to ride it out. The battle was going to drag out a little, but not as long as Mal had initially thought.

  Movement caught his eye from the stage up above and Mal glanced up for it. The live prizes, the females, were brought out toward the end of the fight. They knew it would be over soon too. The women were brought onto the stage and ordered to walk along the barrier first, showing themselves off to the crowd, to the Masters, to the presenters.

  After their little show, they could watch the fight. They could enjoy the show before they were handed out like trinkets at a carnival. And everyone could keep staring at them if they wanted.

  After all, some of the gladiators who took part in the fight weren’t slaves. They were there for personal gain and took the prizes home for themselves. But the slaves – like Mal – didn’t get to keep any of their prizes. It all went to the Masters, who owned the slaves and ordered them to fight for exactly that reason.

  Owning gladiators was profitable if you had a good fighter. A fighter like Mal. Usually, Mal glanced up at the prizes before focusing on the fight again. It was almost a habit,
a moment where he looked at the people who were just like him. They weren’t fighters. They were slaves too.

  In a world where everyone else was free – his Masters, the guards, some of the other gladiators – Mal always sought out the people that were like him. People who had been told who they were meant to be. He didn’t know what it was that drew him to them, but he felt a kind of kinship. There was a divide between those who could do as they pleased and those who did as they were told.

  This time, when he looked up at the stage, something caught Mal’s eye. It was a female, as they all were, but this one was different. Mal didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the dark eyes and hair that drew his attention. She had the same pale skin as the Qai race, but her dark hair wasn’t consistent with what they looked like. It made her striking.

  Or was it something else?

  Whatever it was, Mal found it almost impossible to look away. She was watching him, her dark eyes glued to him as he moved around the ring.

  From the side, the Hucan crashed into Mal, knocking him to the ground. Dammit, he hadn’t been paying attention. He had been distracted by the slave up on the stage. Mal felt the hot liquid pouring down his face, blood that ran out of the gash that was undoubtedly made by the Hucan’s claws.

  Mal’s Master would be unhappy. He would assume Mal was going to lose. And losing meant either severe punishment or death. Judging by the fury in the Hucan’s six eyes, Mal was sure that if the creature had half a chance, he would try to kill him.

  The only life that mattered here was your own.

  It wasn’t always important that the gladiators were killed in the arena – Mal had lost once or twice and had still been spared his life – but it was generally how it worked.

  Mal drew his attention back to the fight. He had been careless to allow one of the females to distract him. There were always females up there. He should have ignored her after looking up, the way he usually did.

  Luckily, his opponent was exhausted. It had happened suddenly – as if the creature had trained for a certain amount of time every day and the time had been exceeded. There was no more energy, it was done.

  It was time to end it.

  Mal had known that he was going to be able to break the Hucan this way.

  Now that the creature was tired, it was easy to dodge the claws and fangs and grab a hold of the body. The Hucan had strong arms and legs, with claws that were difficult to get past when the creature was well-rested.

  But now that Mal had managed to get past the claws and grab a hold of the body, he was reminded of how small the body really was. And how vulnerable. Soft, almost porous skin. Slick with sweat

  The claws and fangs were a great deterrent, but not enough. Not now.

  The crowd roared with delight as Mal grabbed the small body and wrapped one arm around the neck. The creature squealed and squirmed, slashing claws, but at the angle Mal was holding it, it couldn’t reach. Mal was safe from being sliced yet again.

  The crowd went wild, screaming, asking for more blood, more pain. Asking for a show.

  Some gladiators were cruel, stretching out the fight by causing more pain before killing opponents. The crowd responded to that. For some, being a gladiator was about fame and glory.

  Mal was not like that. Instead, he grabbed the creature by the head and easily snapped its neck. The neck was so thin. The awkward head so very small.

  He did not allow himself to think anything or feel anything. The death had been necessary. It would have been him, otherwise. In the end, someone had to walk away.

  A combination of cheers and disappointed cries erupted from the crowd when Mal dropped the dead body to the ground, the limbs twisted at odd angles. Mal turned his back on the dead body and walked away. He wouldn’t look back. He didn’t like knowing the damage he had done.

  Mal glanced up again at the stage as he walked toward the gate where he would come out. He wanted to catch another glimpse of the female he had seen. What race was she?

  She was still up there, but she wasn’t looking at him anymore. Mal found that he wanted her to look at him again, to make eye contact with him. He didn’t know why it was so important. After all, she wasn’t going to be around for long. She would be gifted to someone as a prize soon. Perhaps even to Mal’s Master.

  He shuddered at the idea. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to her if she fell into the hands of the man who owned him. The Saithin Masters were all but kind. His, in particular, cared only about his own well-being.

  Some Masters abused their slaves but Mal had never suffered abuse. It didn’t work when he barely felt pain, and when he healed as fast as he did. He was lucky. Some gladiators were better off fighting in the ring, with a chance of death, than being in the same room as their Masters.

  None of it mattered though. Thinking about it was pointless. It was out of Mal’s control. There wasn’t very much in his life that was his to control, and so, he let it go. Better than to get upset about something that was inevitable.

  The ring gates opened and Mal walked toward the gaping hole that led into the belly of the arena, where he would be given a chance to clean, where he would get food and water, where he would wait for his Master to either congratulate him or shout at him.

  Already, the help was running across the arena, setting up a podium for the presenter who would come down and look each and every Master and independent gladiator in the eye.

  While Mal was put back into his quarters, they would have a show in the ring, where they would parade the prizes around, making everyone jealous of whoever it was that had won.

  Especially the female prizes.

  Mal hoped that for this female, at least, there wouldn’t be an awful ending.

  Chapter Two

  Tanya

  Tanya slowly blinked her eyes open and groaned. God, what an awful nightmare. She was glad she had woken up safe in her own bed rather than wherever the monsters in her dreams had decided to take her.

  When Tanya sat up, she realized that she wasn’t in her own bed.

  In fact, she had no idea where she was. Not at all. The room was bare, without carpets or wallpaper. Nothing but raw concrete. The bed on which she lay was more like a cot, and a blanket had roughly been thrown over her rather than the soft sheets she was used to.

  Where the hell was she? Vividly, her nightmare came back to her.

  Mantis-like monsters had broken into her house and grabbed her. They had dragged her away kicking and screaming, apparently numb to her scratching and clawing to get free.

  At some point, one of them had turned to her with awful eyes – dark, bottomless pits of black. It had made a clicking sound that made Tanya shiver when she thought about it. Then, something had knocked her over the head so hard that everything had gone black.

  And then she had woken up in the cot. Clearly, it hadn’t been a nightmare at all.

  Dammit! Luckily, she had insurance for something like that. For when she was taken. Because Tanya was worth a hell of a lot of money.

  She just didn’t know how the creatures fit into the picture. Since when were monsters real?

  Absently, Tanya wondered if her insurance would cover her abduction if it had been carried out by monsters. Was she drunk? Had it been a hallucination?

  Tanya shook her head, trying to keep her thoughts straight. When she did, a dull ache throbbed between her temples. She pressed her fingers gingerly against her left temple, where it hurt the most. She winced and pulled her fingers away, looking for blood. There was none – it must have already scabbed over.

  It was where she had been hit, no doubt.

  Tanya clambered off the bed and walked around the room, inspecting it. There were no windows, only a vent against the ceiling. She studied it, hands on her hips. It was far too narrow for her to climb into, even if she was able to reach up that high.

  The door was metal and when she tried it, it was locked. It was what she had expected though. You were hardly a prisoner if the d
oors were unlocked and you could come and go as you pleased.

  Prisoner. Tanya played the word over and over in her mind. This was all because of her money, wasn’t it?

  She had taken over her parents’ oil empire a couple of years ago. But even before then, she had been worth a lot. She had always known that someone might want to do something to her to access her riches.

  In fact, she was surprised that it had taken that long for something drastic to happen.

  At least she was insured for something like that, so it wouldn’t take long for her to be able to buy her freedom. She just had to wait for someone to come to her, to make their demands.

  Tanya walked back to the cot and sat down. She still wore the pajamas she had been wearing when the monsters had broken into her house. She had been getting ready for bed, making chamomile tea so that she would sleep better.

  Well, after getting hit over the head, her sleep had been without interruption. Tanya smiled bitterly at the ridiculous realization.

  The locks on the metal door clicked and Tanya scrambled backward on the cot, pressing her back against the concrete wall. Slowly, the metal door swung open and with that same horrifying clicking sound, the mantis-like monster came in. Tanya gasped.

  The creature said something, but it was in a language that Tanya didn’t understand. So, the clicking sound wasn’t their communication then. What the hell was it?