Pan’s Legacy Read online

  She didn’t get far. A tiny grim face hovered over Pandora and in that instant, she knew where she was—trapped in her grandfather’s Neverland.

  Chapter Three

  Cursing in the nine languages she now knew, Pandora pulled on the shackles that held her spread for the victor of her latest match in the pit. Using the loser for sex was an option of the winning male or female, but from what Pan had learned, most males would take the opportunity to get their rocks off. Whether they were physically compatible with her or not.

  The thrusting of her last opponent was irritating, but not painful. The pit insisted that the males use lube. When he came, shouting his triumph to the guards, they removed him, unshackled her and dragged her from his cell.

  She hated to lose.

  Out of the forty-three matches she had engaged in since being taken from the village, she had lost nine. The first of those nine losses had shocked her. She had been dragged, in confusion, away from her cell, stripped and shackled into place in the winner’s quarters.

  When he had begun to stroke her body and moved between her thighs, all became suddenly clear. She had lost her next four fights, but after she realized it would not end because she couldn’t process it, she started to fight in earnest.

  The guards dragged her in to medical and she was checked for damage. The doctor was not unkind but horribly pragmatic. “So, Pan. How was he?”

  “Quick. In the fight and after.” She took her place on the table and lay back for the doc to examine her.

  “It was a near thing, the fight I mean. You almost had him.” The doc was a fan of her fights. He had been since her first. Apparently, she was something to watch. Most of her fights were aggressive, short and bloody. It had won her a fan following.

  “Yeah. That tail strike I took was a little bit of a surprise. It stunned me long enough for him to get the upper hand.”

  “Well, your contraception is set for another six months and for a woman who fought a guy with a big tail, you are barely even bruised. Clean bill of health.” He helped her sit up and made some notes on her chart. “Don’t let this get you down. He has pulled that tail trick on others. And you are almost out of the penalizing range. One more win and you will not have to worry about this consequence to a loss. You will be making enough to pay for a surrogate to take your place.”

  “Great. So, I only need to fight and win one more and no more shackles and being fucked against the wall.” Some had preferred to take her ass, being too used to other males. In those uncomfortable moments, she had been thankful for the lube rule, but the pain and humiliation of being taken that way had still stung.

  “Yes. I look forward to only attending you after a violent win.”

  Pan nodded to the doc as the guards took her out of Medical and escorted her back to her cell. Being buck naked had ceased to be an issue after a while. No one would bother to look at her peculiarly pale skin, let alone try and touch, and the guards were chemically castrated. No worries there.

  Her cell door closed behind her, so she grabbed a wrap and tucked it around her like a sarong. Her fight clothing would be brought to her before she had her next round. It usually consisted of a bodice and some short shorts with a pair of boots. For now, she wore her comfy wrap and waited with a data pad filled with books and language recordings. With nothing else to do, improving her mind was the only thing left.

  * * * *

  “Huek? Are you awake?” The light and delicate voiced chimed in his ears.

  “T’nk? Yes. The regenerative sleep has worn off. Have you found him?” Huek K’ptain rose carefully from the unit that was the last portion of his ship to remain intact. The colony ship had been destroyed when that little Pan bastard crashed it into the planet while escaping in a shuttle.

  The Huek had lost his left hand, but the regeneration unit had enabled him to regrow it.

  “How long has it been? You were supposed to wake me when you had Pan in custody.” It took days to stop the cycle and wake the occupant. He expected to have been inside the unit for three or four months.

  “Fifty years. I was unable to retrieve the original Pan, so I got his descendant.” T’nk cowered back as the Huek rose to his feet.

  “Fifty years! What were you thinking?” His mind reeled. Fifty years. His family would assume he was dead.

  “Please, Huek. K’ptain. I wanted to hand you Pan with no questions. I have kept in contact with the Alliance. They knew of your condition and you received back pay.” The little miss was almost grovelling at his feet.

  “Where are we?”

  “The colony world. It has become the haven for a pit-fighting ring and we also draw income from that. It is where Pan is currently being held.” T’nk brought up Pan’s fight stats quickly.

  Huek was almost the highest rank that one of his birth could attain amongst the Nevar. He had held that rank with honour until an insane Terran had ripped out his navigation system, lopped off the hand that was stopping the launch of the shuttlecraft that Pan was stealing and left K’ptain and his crew to a horrible fate, crash landing on an unnamed world.

  The loss of the colonists was the most terrifying of all. Thirty thousand of T’nk’s people had been lost in the crash and no amount of revenge would ever replace them.

  But it would make him feel a little better. He eyed the fight stats of Pan. Forty-three fights, nine losses. Imagining the Pan he remembered getting fucked in the ass after the losses must have chafed the arrogant little bugger.

  He would make that Pan pay for the sins of the father. Fight forty-five would be his.

  * * * *

  There was no way she was going to win this fight, but her opponent declared that he wanted to fuck her until she screamed, so she had to try. Throughout her time at the pits, she had never used her flight in the fights. Today, she was changing things around. He was the creepiest-looking thing she had ever laid eyes on, as if a bull, an octopus and a bipedal humanoid got together and had an orgy.

  When he rushed her—arms, legs and tentacles working in concert—she bent her legs, propelling herself into the air to a rushing gasp from the crowd. Her jump took her beyond his reach and into the air, landing behind him with a light thump and pressing her sword into the back of his spine. “Yield or die.”

  “How did you do that?” He dropped his weapon as he hissed that question, raising all his limbs into the air.

  “I wanted to win.” She waited until he stepped toward the exit before she lowered her sword. Just a little, but the instant that he whipped around to sting her with a tentacle, she cut it off. His blood coloured the sand an icky black as she stood and watched him howl and run away. It was what she had expected. He was not an honourable fighter and everyone knew it.

  She looked up at the sky and assessed her strength. She couldn’t make it to the height of the pit in one jump. Sighing, she raised her sword above her head and walked out of the pit. The next fight was being called as she went through the closing doors, so she sighed again and handed her sword to the guards.

  “Congratulations, Pan. You have survived your forty-fourth fight. You are moving to more comfortable quarters. Did you want your opponent punished?” The guard had a harsh grin on his face. He loved to administer her punishments. For a price.

  “How much will that cost me?”

  “This one is free, Pan. You deserve it after what he tried to do to you. Shall I route the video to your new quarters?”

  She shuddered at the thought of that creature on the receiving end of a very large dildo. “Audio only please. If I don’t have to look at him again, I will be quite happy.”

  “Excellent.”

  She stretched and followed obediently. The senior fighters’ quarters were larger, were not as aggressively locked and had a large common room for games or socializing.

  Her new rooms had a lovely pale tint to the walls and a nice scent. The smell of fear and pain was a thing of the past. Her mud-brown wraps had been replaced with sheaths of deep jewel
tones that would flatter her blood-red hair.

  “Wow. Nice.”

  “Now that you are a senior fighter, you need want for nothing. Your medical treatment is on the management as well. Be comfortable, Pan. And congratulations on your win.” The guard bowed and scampered off to deliver the punishment promised.

  “That man is far too dedicated to his work.” She shook her head and explored her new living quarters. She grabbed the data pad and started reading while she stripped off her boots and fight outfit. A hamper was provided for her needs, but the green top and shorts were hardly even sweaty.

  She folded them and put them next to the boots on a small shelf. A deep blue sheath covered her to her knees and there were even slippers to go with it. Tiptoeing out into the hall, she carried her data pad with her to the small common room. She thought it would be bigger, but when she saw the only other occupant, it became clear. It was the women’s senior fighter quarters. There were two.

  “Hello, Pan. I am Amara, but I suggest we don’t become too friendly. I would hate to have to kill you one day if you were a friend.” The other female, of a race that Pandora hadn’t seen before, sat and flicked on the view screen. She was watching coverage of the fights.

  “Do we get coverage of all the fights?”

  “Of course, the only reason for coming to this back water. The pit fights and the free coverage for fighters. Have they showed you how to access your accounts yet?”

  It seemed the statement about friendship had been for show. “No. Why?”

  “You not only get a small percentage of your fight-viewer fees, you also get the fees if you are the loser and your punishment is viewed.”

  People had been watching me? Eww.

  “Amara, may I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “What language are we speaking?”

  “Alliance Common. Didn’t they tell you when they taught you? I thought all of you Terrans got the best educations.”

  “Ah. I was dropped here fresh from my planet. I have been working things out the best I can. But I do seem to have the knack for linguistics.”

  “That’s a good skill to have.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know the names of the languages I have learned. They have just been from other fighters and the guards.” It was a little embarrassing, but she felt honesty was always the best policy. She could never lie without turning bright pink anyway.

  “Well, let’s just see what is on the roster for tomorrow.” Amara started to flip through a number of the options on the screen, her smoky grey fingers moving quickly.

  That was a perk she hadn’t expected. “Seriously, you can see when you are to fight?”

  “Of course. It is one of the best parts of being a senior fighter. Well, that and skipping the time in the loser’s position. I don’t miss that part at all.” Her chuckle made the fans on her neck flare.

  The roster for the next day flared up on the screen. “Who the heck is that?”

  “K’ptain? He owns the pit and the whole planet for that matter. Apparently, he used to have the status of Huek amongst the Nevar, but no one has heard from him in years.”

  Huek? Could that be the man that Grandpa Peter had mentioned? No. Not after all this time, he would be almost a hundred by now.

  “How long do the Nevar live?”

  “Two hundred years or so. Some less, some more.”

  “So, it’s possible that he is around a hundred years old then.”

  Amara shrugged. “I suppose. Anyway, he is your opponent for tomorrow afternoon. The sales for the fight are already through the roof.”

  “That’s good?”

  “You will be getting a hefty percentage. That will enable you to earn enough to get off world eventually.”

  Pandora had no idea where she would go if she got off world. Going home was the obvious thing that sprang to mind, but she had heard that Terra was now a Protectorate. No one could land on that planet without diplomatic credentials and she didn’t have them.

  Perhaps the representatives of the Alliance would allow her to return to her friends and family, there was only one way to find out.

  She had to win enough to get off world.

  * * * *

  “Is it set?” K’ptain stretched, his workout with the practice bot having confirmed that he had not lost his touch with the sabre.

  “It is, Huek. Pan will meet you in the pit tomorrow. You will be able to take your revenge then.” T’nk bowed low, her delicate ears poking out of the golden fall of her hair.

  “I want all the files on my opponent. Fight recordings and medical records. I want to be prepared for anything that little bastard can throw at me.”

  The startled look T’nk gave him set off the first warning bell in his mind. “What is it? I want those files.”

  “Well, Huek. You see. There is something about Pan you may notice.” Quickly moving her fingers on the terminal, she brought up the information he wanted.

  The battle stats were what he expected, but the notation on the medical records gave him pause and filled him with a chilling fury. “Pan’s a woman!”

  Chapter Four

  Listening to her last opponent’s bellows of outrage had been marginally satisfying. The guard certainly did enjoy his work.

  She tried to bring up information on Huek and found that it was a rank designation. K’ptain was his name. He was indeed the same man that her grandfather had met, but the crash of his ship on this world was the last record of him. He had the status of alive, but nothing else from that moment until now. Weird.

  Pandora worked out lightly in the common room, going to bed with a pleasant burn in her limbs. Her fight the next day was paramount in her mind, but she had no idea what it would entail. Fifty years ago, his specialty had matched hers, sabres. She wondered if it would be the same tomorrow.

  The roar of the crowd greeted her and she blinked in surprise. The stands were full. This wasn’t going to be the standard half-full crowd she was used to fighting in front of.

  She walked confidently to the centre of the pit, her hand loosely gripping her sword as she waited for the opponent of the day.

  She didn’t need to see the doors open to know he was there. The howls and cheers filled the stands and she could feel him approaching her.

  Pandora turned and the caress of her hair against her naked waist was suddenly a sensation that made her skin tingle. It couldn’t possibly be the sight of the man coming toward her from across the sands of the pit that caused it. It had to be her hair.

  His hair was long, blue-black and fell almost to his waist. He wore a white shirt, black vest, trousers and boots. The deep violet of his eyes ensnared her soul, the straight cut of his lips made her wet her own, his straight nose and the chiselled jaw line made her fingers itch to touch.

  These were not thoughts that she should be having right before a fight.

  He held his sabre with the same loose ease that she did and he squared off against her.

  The announcer started the proceedings. “Welcome one and all. I present to you the fight of the decade! Huek K’ptain versus Pan.”

  As their names were spoken, they saluted the other with their blades. Huek K’ptain did not look happy to be there, facing her.

  When the shout came out for them to engage, neither of them moved. Huek spoke, “Surrender and this need not go any further.”

  The crowd stirred uncomfortably and she hissed. “I don’t surrender. I fight.”

  “Then fight me, but the outcome will be the same.” His voice was a harsh growl and then he struck.

  Time stretched into an endless round of cut, thrust, parry and lunge. They circled each other, slicing and striking metal on metal for what seemed like hours, but was probably only half an hour.

  Finally, he hissed, “Enough.”

  His sword flicked out and he sliced the upper part of her bodice on the left and the right. The crowd cheered.

  Pandora hissed herself and flicked her
sword toward his face, creating a bright stripe across his cheek leading to the corner of his mouth. She struck again, at the same time, he parted the strings lacing the front of her bodice. The X that she created over his heart gave her satisfaction that cooled as air caressed her breasts and stomach.

  Blood slowly trailed down his jaw and chest, keeping her mesmerized as his precise cuts stripped her shorts off.

  Naked with the exception of her boots, she engaged him again. She was unsurprised when her high ponytail was cut loose and her hair slithered across her body. At least it was long enough for her to wear.

  Her mind shut out the shouts of the audience and she attacked with a fury that she had yet to let loose in the pit. She jumped over him, flew behind him and tried to strike, but as if he had fought her before, he whirled the instant her feet left the ground. He was ready for her attack.

  Surprised by his anticipation, she jumped again, but was too close and he caught her boot by the ankle, pulling her to the ground with a thud.

  Naked, covered with sand and having a sword at her throat, Pandora surrendered. She threw her sword to the ground and waited for the killing stroke. It didn’t come.

  Cursing in a language that Pandora had not learned, Huek K’ptain picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, one hand on her ass to keep her steady. The rioting noise coming from the stands was deafening. Pan was sure that he would turn her over to the guards as soon as they crossed the threshold of the exit. That was not the case.

  He waved off the guards and walked with her over his shoulder through the halls. No one moved to stop him.

  “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be happy with a surrogate?”

  “For what your ancestor did to me? No. No one but you will do.” His hand on her buttocks dug in, the fingers flexing in irritation. “Don’t worry, you will have appropriate accommodations until my ire is expended.”