Ugh. Stupid station. Maybe I can pry the door open manually. I try to work my fingers into the tight seams of the door for at least ten minutes before I give up.

“I hate you, Nasit,” I say mournfully as I rest my forehead on the cold metal.

So not only have I been abandoned, but I can’t even enjoy this. I lightly thump my head against the door again, and then turn to look down the hall. No one has even noticed me. No one’s here to see me trying to break into the food supplies.

Hmm. Emergency mode, the computer had mentioned on the panel. Emergency mode changes the ship’s functions, but without access to the operating system, I won’t know what, exactly, that entails. I need access, somehow . . . which means I need a friendly alien to help me with it.

Since they all consider me the equivalent of a yappy pet dog? It’s not freaking likely.

“Computer?” I try again. “Where is everyone?”

Still no response from the artificial intelligence that runs the ship.

I abandon the cafeteria and tiptoe down another hall, my feet cold on the floors (because Nasit doesn’t like his pets to wear shoes and he’s a jerk). There’s a window down this hall that has a view of one part of the station and deep space. I’ve enjoyed the sights here several times before, as you can see a lot of the station itself, along with a very pretty nebula in the distance.

The space station here is shaped like an H with two long bars connected in the center. Along the outside of one bar, there’s always a row of little squares that look like teeth along a jaw. I asked about them once in halting alien tongue and was told that they were evacuation pods for emergencies. Then Nasit had patted me on the head and put another bow in my hair.

When I find the window, my mouth goes dry. Sure enough, the evacuation pods are all gone. All except one that sticks out like the last niblet on a cob of corn.

Son of a bitch.

The station is quiet because everyone hightailed it out of here, and I was left behind. I rub my eyes, just in case I’m seeing things. I’m here alone on Superior Stables Lab Station. Perhaps I should be panicking, but instead all I feel is a deep-seated glee. I’m free. I can take that last pod and figure out how to get away from here and maybe find my way back to Earth . . .

A distant crash of metal echoes from somewhere deep inside the station. The labs.

Correction. I’m not alone.

Security Breach. Containment of Specimen Required.

Whoever it was that they’re fleeing is still here with me.

Chapter Two

Dana

Another crash from deep within the labs makes me tense. Whatever monster they created is still here on the station . . . with me.

That’s not good.

I’ve seen some of the creatures created in the labs here. Nasit is a master of what is referred to as “splicing.” He takes genetic profiles of multiple races of aliens and crafts a specially designed clone out of all the best traits. Those clones—splices—are to be used as a gladiator for whatever barbaric sports these mesakkah aliens are into. The tall, horned blue aliens dress in elegant robes and hold their noses up in the air when it comes to the other alien races and pride themselves on how learned and civilized they are, and yet they love slavery and gladiators.

Spoiler alert: The entire universe is full of jerks.

I need to get to that pod. I don’t know how to operate it, but whatever they’re avoiding here means I should avoid it, too. To get to the pod, though, I’ll have to cross the middle bar of the H and over to the far side of the station.

And the labs are in the center of the station.

I contemplate getting back into the vents, but I know from experience that the portions of the laundry system large enough to climb through are centered mostly over the living quarters of the station and that there’s only a chute for medical waste near the labs.

I’ll have to walk directly through the most dangerous area in order to get to the escape pod.

Ugh.

The alternative is to just . . . not go? I could hide in Nasit’s quarters until the mesakkah scientists return. He’ll be back at some point. He’ll put a bow in my hair and pat my head and I’ll hate every moment of it, but I’ll be safe. Safe, with bows and nutrition bars and sleeping in a cage, and I’ll never see Earth again.

Maybe they’ll come back to the station to rescue me before I starve to death.

Maybe they’ll return before the monster realizes I’m here and eats me.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

My stomach growls, and I go looking for a weapon.

Weapons aren’t so hard to come by on a space station built for cloning monstrous gladiators. As I approach the middle section of the ship, where the labs are, I come across the training grounds. There, I look for something I can use to defend myself. It’s too much to hope for a gun of some kind, but even the handheld weapons are ginormous. Humans are bite-size snacks compared to the full meals of most aliens. I pick up a club . . .

. . . and immediately topple over.

“Must weigh fifty pounds,” I mutter. “Gotta be something pip-squeak-size around here.”

I try a sledge-hammer, a sword that’s taller than I am, and something that looks like clawed gloves, except the gloves are the size of baseball mitts. I’m more likely to injure myself with this stuff than anything. As I contemplate how I can defend myself, one of the bots that cleans the ship putters past, moving down the hall. I follow it. A long arm reaches out and begins to swipe across the glass, squeegeeing it clean.

I break the squeegee off, ignoring the shrill alerts that the bot makes, and practice flicking my new weapon. It’s flexible and long and reminds me a bit of a cross between a whip and a fencing blade. Will it protect me against whatever is loose on this ship?

No. But it beats nothing.

There’s another crash nearby and the pinging alert of a system going offline. This time, the sounds are much, much closer, and my skin prickles.

Down the hall. Has to be.

My whip-sword raised in the air, I advance toward the enemy.

Chapter Three

Project va’DorV8.3

Blood.

The scent of it makes my senses come alive. I can smell it nearby, along with the astringent tang of the cleanser residue that the bots use all over this station. I’ve torn apart the lab, looking for more packets of stored blood, but every compartment is empty. I’ve drunk all of the contents within a day, just to rid myself of the violent blood hunger that was clouding my thoughts.

It’s gone now, but so is all of my food.

There has to be something left behind, though. I shatter glass doors and crush metal framework, all to get to the vials inside, and I’m relieved when I find one last, half-full bag of blood, encased in supple plastic.

I don’t even bother ripping a hole in the bag. I just shove the entire thing into my mouth and chew. The cold blood bursts against my fangs, filling me with relief and revulsion at the same time. Delicious, but somehow wrong tasting. Doesn’t matter.

The urge to feed is sated for now, the fog in my mind lifted. I collapse on the floor with exhaustion, my hand on my brow.

Movement makes my ears prick with awareness.

Something is walking down one of the nearby halls. The sounds they make are quiet but noticeable to senses as finely tuned as mine. I sit up, listening as light footfalls echo, moving toward my location.

And I smell more blood, but this time it’s the blood of a living creature, not the sterile bagged blood.

It smells delightful. It makes my mouth water even though I just ate. I spit out the empty plastic bag, drained of its contents, and get to my feet.

The door opens, and light from the hall floods in. I move to the side automatically to avoid the light and put a hand up to shield my eyes. There’s a creature in the doorway, and I squint at it in surprise. It’s like nothing I’ve seen before. It’s short, with bright-orangish-red hair that lies in waves around its hornless head. The skin of it is unpleasantly pale, like the underbelly of an animal. It wears a yellow shift that goes to its knees, and its legs are bare.