“Competitors, the galaxy is watching.”
“If you think you have what it takes, apply now.”
“Let us meet the players.”
“What do you think about the players?” she asked her father.
“The Vulture guy is going to try to use his flying abilities. He might make it. Did you know that that particular alien species has stomach acid with a pH near zero—essentially battery acid—which allows them to spit or use their own highly corrosive digestive fluids to melt through locks, restraints, or even enemy armor.”
“I did not know that, but I’m not surprised that you did.”
Martin Sinclair was in his late fifties, salt and pepper hair, a college professor. At least he was before he got sick. He raised her on his own after her mother abandoned them. She barely remembered her mother. But her father, he was everything to her.
She ran track and field when she was in high school. He was at every single one of her track meets. Though he didn’t make a lot of money as a professor, he used his time off in the summers to spend with her. They would go on month long camping trips all over the world. It was some of her favorite times as a child.
Mara hadn’t told her father that she applied a couple of months ago to enter the Galactic Survivor Games. She was desperate to save her father. She used to be an athlete, it shouldn’t take her long to get back to her athletic form.
Her cell dinged with a message. She glanced down at the message.
Galactic Survivor Games:
Congratulations, Competitor.
You’ve been accepted into theGalactic Survivor Games.
Tryouts begin in14 days.
The galaxy is watching.
Her heart thudded too fast, her breath coming shallow, uneven. Mara stared at the message until the words blurred.
Accepted.
Her fingers began to shake. She rubbed her palms against her pants as if she could steady herself.
Two weeks.
Long enough for doubt to creep in. Long enough for people to ask questions she couldn’t afford to answer.
Relief flickered, fragile and brief, before it was buried under something colder. She didn’t trust it. Good news never stays good. Promises always came with a cost.
Mara swallowed, forcing her shoulders to loosen. She’d learned a long time ago not to lean on anyone when it mattered most. Hope made you careless. Trust makes you weak.
She would go into the Games the same way she’d survived everything else—alone, guarded, and ready to fight.
Because her father was running out of time.
And failure wasn’t a choice she could afford.
She would have to ask her only friend to keep an eye on her dad while she was gone. The biggest problem was what she would tell her dad. He would never allow her to do something so dangerous for him.
“Dad, I have to travel for work. There’s a convention in New Dallas my boss needs me to attend.”
“That’s great news honey. Your bosses are finally noticing how valuable you are.”
“Maybe. I should be gone for about three to four weeks.”
He frowned. “That long?”
