This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Otherwise, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2025 by Ruby Dixon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Amazon Original Stories, Seattle
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ISBN-13: 9781662533884 (digital)
Cover design and illustration by Elizabeth Turner Stokes
For Ali, Katee, CLo, Kimberly, and JT—I am utterly geeked to be in such good company. Just picture me as Charlie Brown on Halloween in the bedsheet with all the holes in it. That’s me, awkward and a little goofy, but happy to be with the gang.
Contents
Content Warning
Intercepted Communications to Superior Stables Lab Station
Chapter One: Dana
Chapter Two: Dana
Chapter Three: Project va’DorV8.3
Chapter Four: Dana
Chapter Five: Dana
Chapter Six: Vlad
Chapter Seven: Dana
Chapter Eight: Vlad
Chapter Nine: Dana
Epilogue: Vlad
Acknowledgments
Other titles by Ruby Dixon
About the Author
Content Warning
This story contains explicit sexual content, some strong language, violence, enslaved characters (nothing bad happens on page), discussions of gene tampering, and, above all, a character who drinks blood. In space.
Reader discretion is advised.
Intercepted Communications to Superior Stables Lab Station
Communication from Stablemaster of Lord va’Dor, First of His Name, to Superior Stables Lab Station, Attention Customer Orders
I am inquiring as to the status of the genetically spliced gladiator order that was put in a month ago. Please advise.
Response from Superior Stables Lab Station
Greetings, Stablemaster!
We have your order right here. Pardon for the delay, but the particular strain of gladiator stock you requested came out with a blood deficiency and photosensitivity. We are running a few modifications upon the requested clone that will take care of this issue. Thank you for your patience, and we look forward to contacting you with pleasing results.
Signed,
Nasit sa’Wost, Head of Genetics
Superior Stables: Any splice for the right price!
Stablemaster to sa’Wost
A blood deficiency is unacceptable. So is photosensitivity. He’s supposed to be a gladiator. How is he going to battle if he can’t be in the light? My lord requested expedited healing in his splice, not for him to be even more fragile than the usual clones. Please refund our credits promptly.
sa’Wost to Stablemaster
You are correct that a blood deficiency is unacceptable! Luckily, we have worked on this and come up with a promising solution. The last genetic modifications are being completed today, and the subject will be extremely healthy. His body’s capability to heal will be within the ninety-eighth percentile, as requested, along with strength, speed, and agility. We are confident in our results; wait and see! Once we have confirmed that the splice is to your standards, he will be available for pickup at the nearest space station.
Superior Stables: Any splice for the right price!
Stablemaster to sa’Wost
What modifications are you doing, exactly?
Stablemaster to sa’Wost
We have not approved any additional modifications, and they will not be paid for. Please let us know what you are planning to do with the clone my master ordered.
Stablemaster to sa’Wost
Did you receive my last communication?
Stablemaster to sa’Wost
It has been a week since our last communication. Status update, please.
Chapter One
Dana
The station is silent. Normally it’s pulsing with noise—the clank of machinery, the whir of the atmosphere generators straining to keep up with the population, the hum of multiple voices in the background, the sound of booted feet on the floors. Now everything is so very quiet. Even the atmospherics click off, content with the temperature and the level of oxygen in the space station.
I lift up the metal grate and climb out of the laundry shaft I’ve been hiding in. At first, I thought I’d get a few hours to myself. The moment the laboratory alarms went off, screeching about an escaped subject, I raced down the hall, away from my alien master, and climbed into one of the chutes. I come here sometimes when I want to be left alone for a bit. As an alien’s unwilling pet, I get handled a lot whether I want it or not. It’s nice to get a few hours to myself, and I curled up in the piles of uniforms . . . and apparently fell asleep.
I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but everything’s far too quiet.
Surely everyone didn’t just . . . leave for good?
Surely not.
Surely they’re just in a meeting? Threat neutralized and things are back to normal? I’ve lived on this station for a year now as the miserable pet of the head scientist, Nasit sa’Wost, and there’ve been a few times when their “experiments” have broken free from their confines. It happens when you’re dealing with living things. The quiet is unnerving, though, and it’s getting to me.
Has to be a meeting. I’m not that lucky.
“Computer,” I call out. “What’s today? Where is Nasit sa’Wost?”
It doesn’t acknowledge me. Of course it doesn’t. I’m not a person to it, which is annoying as hell.
Fine. I pull the stupid frilly bow off my head and the second one off my waist, tossing them on the floor. Nasit is going to be looking for me soon enough, and I want to enjoy not being someone’s pet poodle for a hot minute. I stretch, yawning, and run my fingers through my hair, happy to be free of the dumb decorations the alien puts on me. Nasit loves a garish bow and an even more garish dress for me. I swear, it’s like Halloween every day.
I glance up and down the hall. No guards, no scientists. All is still.
This means I have a few more minutes to myself. Might as well enjoy the freedom while I have it.
I waste no time in heading for the cafeteria. If we’re going with a Halloween vibe, it’s time for me to trick-or-treat. Specifically . . . treat myself. My mouth waters at the thought of getting to eat something other than a hard, flavorless nutrient bar. Nasit gives me nothing but those, and even those he’s stingy with, because he likes a “lean” pet and not a “puffy” one. Jerk. I’m going to eat at least six bowls of noodles before they get back, I decide.
When I get to the cafeteria, though, the sliding doors are tightly sealed shut.
Frowning, I put my hand on the door lock panel. It doesn’t respond, so I tap it again. And again. “No! Come on! Answer me!”
The doors never even budge. Of course they wouldn’t. They open only for the people who live on this ship, and I’m considered a pet. With a furious snarl, I slap the panel again. No dice. I try to access it with an override code on the panel, but the station ignores my attempts.
All trick, no treat. Boo.
Emergency Mode. Security Breach. Containment of Specimen Required.
