A strange buzzing pierced her ears as Carrie slightly opened her eyes. A disembodied voice said, “Great, you’re awake. Let’s get you ready for your match.”
“I must have taken too many pain pills last night, I don’t remember the bus ride to Philly.”
“Philly? Doc, give her another stimulant. She’s still wasted from the trip.”
A needle pricked her right arm as her pulse started to quicken.
“I don’t do stims, Doc.”
Carrie fully opened her eyes, adjusting to the dim light of the locker room. Pausing for a second, she realized she wasn’t in Philly. Nothing looked right, nothing looked familiar. A small hairy creature stood in front of her, and a giant metallic monster stood behind it. Carrie screamed and then blacked out.
“Okay, keep the Doc away this time. The Earthers don’t have tech like that yet, must have shocked her.” The little hairy creature moved closer to her, picking up her hand and gently stroking it.
“I had the weirdest dream, Uncle Arn,” Carrie said as she opened her eyes expecting to see her trainer, Arn. “I thought I was in Philly getting ready to defend my title.”
She’d worked the last six years in the World Wrestling Confederation to be awarded the Women’s World Wrestling title, Philly was to be her first defense. She was a legacy, a third-generation wrestler: her father was Rick Starr (“King of the Dirty Trick,”) and her grandfather, Lord Richard Starr (“Ruler of the Royal Dungeon.”)
“And there was a robot, like from Star Wars, only with eight arms and this little hairy Wookie thing wearing an insanely gaudy necklace.” The WWC shows had changed since her grandfather and father’s days: the stories had gotten more bizarre, more surreal, but they’d never included aliens and robots before.
“Queen Starr, my name’s Stranix375, but you can call me Stran,” the little hairy Wookie thing said as he bowed slightly. “I’m your handler for tonight’s match.”
Carrie stayed still, staring at Stran. “What?”
“I know, I know. It’s a little confusing at first, but you’re the main attraction tonight in a celebrity match.” Stran handled all of the new arrivals— most of them knew of King of the Rings— the Galaxy’s largest extreme fighting show, but Earthers didn’t.
Earth was strictly off-limits, too primitive. They didn’t even know anyone else was out there, and the Galactic Federation wanted to keep it that way. Of all the species in the Galaxy, Earthers were the most unstable. That scared the GF, which also made Earthers the best attractions. The Galaxy wanted to see them.
“A celebrity match?” Carrie still wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or not, but she needed to try to understand.
“More than a match, really, you’re going to run all three rings.”
“All three rings?”
“Right, I’ll take it slow. Normally a contestant only fights in one match at a time, but you’re special, and by fan request, you’re going to fight three in a row.” He smiled widely at Carrie. “This is going to be our most-watched show ever. And that’s saying a lot: back before we had our own studio a rumble match broke loose and they destroyed a whole city.”
Carrie sat stunned, staring at him in complete silence. She was used to the exaggeration common in wrestling, but a whole city was even a bit much for her.
“You should be excited. It is really quite an honor,” he said shaking his head.
“Who will I be fighting?” she asked, still in disbelief.
“The first match you’ll face Serrin the Alterran. She’s a nasty bit of work, but the fans love to hate her, so they don’t mind if the Docs patch her back up when she loses. She rarely loses. Seventy three and nine, I think.” he looked down at his furry hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t really follow Serrin, she’s got no style.” He looked up smiling. “But I can get her actual stats if you need them, Queen Starr. I’m here to help any way I can.”
Maybe she was in Philly after all. Serrin sounded a lot like Mina the Tongan Queen, her first challenger.
“If you win that match, then you’ll face Quertxle. She brings in some loyal fans, but she’s an acquired taste. Make it past her, unlikely as that is,” he said shaking his head.
Stran had watched every one of Carrie’s Earth matches, at least every one that the interstellar array could pick up. Earth’s radio and television broadcasts had polluted interstellar space for years. Earthers, thinking they were alone, had never thought about who, or what might be watching them.
“And then you’ll face Rogoth the Destroyer. He’s the fan-favorite. I mean, who doesn’t love a four-armed telekinetic Arbornial?”
“Arbornial? What’s an Arbornial?”
Stran smiled. “There’s not a direct translation to English. I think it means ‘monkey.’”
“I’m wrestling an alien monkey? What kind of freak show is this?”
“It’s the greatest show in the Galaxy, and Serrin and Rogoth are its greatest competitors.” Stran lowered his head. Everyone knew even if Queen Starr defeated Serrin and Quertxle, Rogoth would defeat her.
That was the nature of the death-matches. The fans loved to root for the innocents, but even with one as famous as Carrie Starr, in the end, they wanted blood. They wanted to see Rogoth rip her limb from limb and devour whatever was left.
“Rogoth? Serrin? This isn’t Philly, is it?”
Stran gently stroked her hand, “Come on, Queen Starr, I’ll fill you in as we get you armored up for your matches.” He started walking her towards the opening door on the far end of the room.
“The Galaxy loves you. We’ve seen all your matches: big fans. Big fans. Anyway, the King decided it was time to bring you up to the big show. We call it King of the Rings, but if you win we’ll rebrand it Queen of the Rings.” They stopped walking when they reached a door with strange symbols on.
“Let’s get you armored up. I tried to make everything in your size. You’re 5’10? 155?”
“150, thank you very much,” Carrie snapped. The door slid open and Stran continued the tour.
“Okay, 150,” he said with a chuckle, “And Stranix297 is my mother, blebliexia.” Stran knew better than to swear in English— the King was probably listening.
He walked her further into the room gesturing past a floating video screen, the VideoTron, towards her wardrobe. “Over here we keep your armor for the fights. We styled it after your normal ring attire, but with some extras.” Hanging in front of what Carrie assumed was a changing screen were silver shorts, a metallic bustier, gold metal boots, gold armored gauntlets, and purple hooded cloak. It looked almost exactly like her WWC attire, except the cloak. She frequently wore purple feathered capes, just like her father, but never with a hood. She was a talented wrestler, but also stunningly beautiful. The WWC cameras loved her green eyes and the management would have never let her cover them with a hood.
“I’m not little Red Riding-hood. What’s with the cloak?”
“I know that’s new, but I didn’t know who you’d be facing when I got the order to armor you. Your outfit looked great but too exposed. Your head, your arms and legs, your stomach — they were all easy targets.” He smiled as he continued. “The cloak fixes that. It’s fireproof, waterproof, bulletproof – made from the best carbon nanite fabrics in the Galaxy.” Stran smiled widely. Carrie could tell he was proud of his creation.
“It’ll shield you from almost everything.” He took her gear off of its hanger and handed it to her.
“Go ahead, get changed,” he said gesturing with the gear. A small drone left its perch on the screen, as the screen lit up. The drone’s lights turned on as it began to hover around Carrie. Its camera lens extended from a front mounting with a whirring noise.
“What’s that?”
“Just a camera drone. The viewers are fascinated to see what you look like without the clothes.” Stran started to hand her the armor.
“I’ll wrestle whoever you want, but I don’t do skin.”
“But it’s all part of the show.”
“I am not just a piece of…”
A voice boomed from the video screen. “It’s alright, Stran. Carrie is our special event; besides, I told the board Earthers are prudish.”
“Whatever you say, King.” Stran backed away, cautiously, as Carrie stepped behind the screen to change.
“What a pleasure, Miss Starr, you have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve spoken with another human.”
“You’re a human?”
“Yes, I’m from Earth.”
She neatly folded her sweats and tank top into a stack on the floor. She was still wearing her sleep clothes. Maybe she was dreaming.
“Is this real?” She asked, not sure if her dream could answer.
“Yes, absolutely real. I’m sure Stran did his best to fill you in, but the Garrus just don’t make clones the way they used to. Too chatty, and not enough depth if you ask me.”
Stran exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry, Stran, could you give us a minute? I’d like to talk with Queen Starr, Earther to Earther.”
Stran walked out the door muttering to himself. “Just because I’m a clone doesn’t mean I’m deaf. Earther to Earther, stupid blaxen carpagie.”
Stran’s necklace lit up an iridescent blue. “Stran, what have I told you about your language?”
“I’m sorry, King,” was all that Stran said as the door slid closed behind him.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that Miss Starr. Stran is the best weapons and armor designer in the Galaxy, so I cut him a little slack, but we are a family show, and there is no room for his constant profanity.”
“Profanity? It wasn’t even English.” Carrie slid the shorts over her legs, cinching the belt tight. The shorts hissed as they formed a perfect fit around her lower body. “What the?”
“Carrie, can I call you Carrie? There are nanites in your armor. Once on, it will fit you like a second skin.”
She slid on her boots. “Who are you?”
“They call me the King. I run the show.”
“Like Lawler, or Elvis?” The bustier hissed closed as she fastened it in the back.
“Lawler: Elvis was a no-talent bum.”
“So you’re not an Elvis fan?” She pulled the gauntlets over her arms. They felt heavier than normal ones.
“I appreciate genius, not just hips.”
“What show?” She looked at the cloak. She wasn’t a piece of meat to be objectified, and more protection sounded better, but covering herself might restrict her movements.
“Like Stran said, King of the Rings. They named it after me.”
“Really?” Carrie still wasn’t sure if she was dreaming but decided to play along. “They named it after you?” Her subconscious had created quite the megalomaniac.
“Before me, it was called Death Game Show. It sounded better in the original Sandoleese.” He paused for a second.
“I was the first human to ever win. That, of course, was before the GC quarantined Earth. I think I scared them. I beat a Mansurian.”
“So, aliens abducted you from Earth to fight in Death Game Show?” When she woke up, this might make a great storyline after Philly.
“Abducted me? No, my life on Earth was over. The newspapers labeled me a killer. They ruin everything. I couldn’t get a break, or a comeback; then a Sandoleese talent scout found me and offered me a deal. The Galaxy loved me.”
“Where was my talent scout? I’d like to see the contract.”
“Yes, I’m sure you would. Unfortunately, the GC won’t let us contact Earth, but they can’t stop the TV waves. So our fans want to see Earthers, but we’re not allowed to recruit Earthers. Quite the dilemma. Our fans want what we can’t give them. So we bend the rules a little, and the fans are happy.”
“A little? How’d I get here?” A referee looking away at the right minute was bending the rules a little.
“We abducted you.”
“You abducted me?” Carrie’s body tensed with anger. “What gives you the right?” she shouted.
From her very first day of training Uncle Arn had warned about her temper getting the best of her. “You have to watch your emotions, Carrie. You always have to be in control of them. If you don’t, I can’t train you.”
Carrie breathed deep, steadying herself. “You know people will miss me, you just can’t go around abducting people.” Maybe she wasn’t dreaming. Maybe she’d gone crazy. She’d worked her whole adult life to stand on her own, to be more than Rick Starr’s daughter. Obviously, her subconscious had issues with that. It had drugged her and abducted her. It had victimized her. When she woke up, she knew she’d have a lot to talk about with her therapist.
“Carrie, as far as anyone knows, you never left. The Garrus are great cloners. Right now you’re in Philly defending your title. No one even knows you’re gone.”
“You cloned me?”
“I had you cloned, and let me tell you it wasn’t cheap.” He was just like a promoter, always worried about the money. “Before you ask, the clones are exact replicas of the original, right up to the moment the copy is made. Carrie the second doesn’t even know she’s a clone. As far as she knows you went to sleep in the Marriott and woke up at 4 a.m. to hit the gym.”
“So why didn’t you bring my clone here, and just leave me on Earth?” If this was a dream it was starting to get way too complicated.
“Carrie, it’s the protoplasmic goo they use to grow the clones. It gives off an iridescent glow. Humans can’t see it, but a lot of species can. The audience would know!”
Protoplasmic goo? She was pretty sure that wasn’t an actual thing, but she’d slept through a lot of her science classes, tired from her martial arts and gymnastics training. Her dad had never wanted her to be a wrestler, but he hired her the best instructors and coaches to make sure she knew how to defend herself.
He’d pushed her hard into gymnastics —an Olympic gymnast would have made all his years on the road worthwhile. A few too many growth spurts ended her father’s dream.
“Okay, King, assuming this is real, what’s in it for me? I mean, why should I perform?”
“Simple. If you win the Rings, you go home. If not, you stay here. Besides, Galactic Queen of the Rings is a title you can’t earn on Earth.” She looked at her reflection on the back of the changing screen. She fastened the cloak around her neck. It was a different look, but the extra protection could come in handy, besides, the hood didn’t look as bad as she had thought.
Taking a final glance, she noticed the necklace Uncle Arn had given her for her sixteenth birthday. She always wore it, except in the ring, it was too fragile. She undid its clasp and slipped the necklace into the pocket of her ring shorts.
Galactic Queen of the Rings sounded nice. That was a title even her dad would be proud of. She tried telling herself she didn’t care about that, but she knew that wasn’t true. Carrie moved from behind the VideoTron.
“What do you think, King?” she asked, gesturing towards her armor. She twirled around, letting the cloak flow through the air.
###
At first, when she told her dad she was going to wrestle, he didn’t take it well.
“All I ever wanted was for you to be better than me. I owe that to your mother. You had a chance, and now you’re throwing it away to be what, just another ring rat?”
“There you go again, Dad — the world has changed — and you haven’t. Women aren’t just rats following the talent around on leashes. We are the talent.” She knew every time he looked at her he saw her mother. He saw the woman that broke his heart and left them. She threw her drink on the kitchen counter.
“There’s a reason you have five exes,” she said as he slammed the condo door.
Uncle Arn, she was sure, felt the same way, but he knew she was determined. He knew her father was stubborn, but would eventually come around. So, he agreed to train her.
###
There was a slight buzz from the speakers on the VideoTron pulling Carrie back from her memory. “The show’s almost live. Head out the door and Stran will show you to the tunnel. Remember, Carrie, a good entrance wows the crowd.”
“A good entrance isn’t enough,” Uncle Arn would say, “it’s your close that sells the crowd and creates your fans.”
Stran greeted her as she entered the hallway outside of the door.
“Squeeze your fists twice quickly,” he said. She stopped walking and squeezed them. A dart, about the size of a pencil, projected from her left hand, and a buzz saw from her right.
“The fans love the gadgets, added those myself,” Stran said proudly. “You only have three exploding darts, so use them when you have to.”
She wondered if they had confused her with James Bond. “How do I use them?” she asked.
“Easy, squeeze your fist twice to activate, point at your target, then open your hand quickly. The dart will do the rest.”
A greenish rat scurried past them in the hallway. Carrie flinched. “Don’t worry about the yarboons, they’re everywhere. All they need is a little garbage and air and they breed like crazy. As long as they don’t bite you, you’ll be fine.”
“I won’t bite.”
“What was that?” Carrie asked.
Stran gave her a puzzled look. “I thought you humans had excellent hearing?” Stran raised his voice as he continued. “I said, don’t let one bite you. Nasty stuff, their bites.” He walked her to the opening of a tunnel leading down at a slight slope.
“He can’t hear me, only you can,” the voice said.
Stran stopped at the entrance to the tunnel. “When you reach the end of the tunnel, wait, there’ll be some loud bangs, flames shooting up, and the VideoTron will pop on. Wait a minute while Joltarn and General Zorrin announce the match. Once they’re done you’ll hear Killer Queen, your intro music. When it starts, head to the ring in the center. The song will stop right after the guitar solo. Look up then, and you’ll see them lowering Serrin the Alterran”
Carrie started down the tunnel, almost convincing herself this was the weirdest dream ever.
“It’s not a dream Carrie, this is real,” said the voice in her head.
She looked toward the ring at the end of the tunnel. “This is real?” She said.
“Yes, Carrie, very real.”
“Wait, Stran, we haven’t practiced. What’s the choreography? Who wins?”
“There’s no choreography. Just go out there and be the Queen of the Rings.”
“How do I do that?”
“Easy — don’t get killed,” Stran said as he shut the door to the tunnel behind
A strange buzzing pierced her ears as Carrie slightly opened her eyes. A disembodied voice said, “Great, you’re awake. Let’s get you ready for your match.”
“I must have taken too many pain pills last night, I don’t remember the bus ride to Philly.”
“Philly? Doc, give her another stimulant. She’s still wasted from the trip.”
A needle pricked her right arm as her pulse started to quicken.
“I don’t do stims, Doc.”
Carrie fully opened her eyes, adjusting to the dim light of the locker room. Pausing for a second, she realized she wasn’t in Philly. Nothing looked right, nothing looked familiar. A small hairy creature stood in front of her, and a giant metallic monster stood behind it. Carrie screamed and then blacked out.
“Okay, keep the Doc away this time. The Earthers don’t have tech like that yet, must have shocked her.” The little hairy creature moved closer to her, picking up her hand and gently stroking it.
“I had the weirdest dream, Uncle Arn,” Carrie said as she opened her eyes expecting to see her trainer, Arn. “I thought I was in Philly getting ready to defend my title.”
She’d worked the last six years in the World Wrestling Confederation to be awarded the Women’s World Wrestling title, Philly was to be her first defense. She was a legacy, a third-generation wrestler: her father was Rick Starr (“King of the Dirty Trick,”) and her grandfather, Lord Richard Starr (“Ruler of the Royal Dungeon.”)
“And there was a robot, like from Star Wars, only with eight arms and this little hairy Wookie thing wearing an insanely gaudy necklace.” The WWC shows had changed since her grandfather and father’s days: the stories had gotten more bizarre, more surreal, but they’d never included aliens and robots before.
“Queen Starr, my name’s Stranix375, but you can call me Stran,” the little hairy Wookie thing said as he bowed slightly. “I’m your handler for tonight’s match.”
Carrie stayed still, staring at Stran. “What?”
“I know, I know. It’s a little confusing at first, but you’re the main attraction tonight in a celebrity match.” Stran handled all of the new arrivals— most of them knew of King of the Rings— the Galaxy’s largest extreme fighting show, but Earthers didn’t.
Earth was strictly off-limits, too primitive. They didn’t even know anyone else was out there, and the Galactic Federation wanted to keep it that way. Of all the species in the Galaxy, Earthers were the most unstable. That scared the GF, which also made Earthers the best attractions. The Galaxy wanted to see them.
“A celebrity match?” Carrie still wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or not, but she needed to try to understand.
“More than a match, really, you’re going to run all three rings.”
“All three rings?”
“Right, I’ll take it slow. Normally a contestant only fights in one match at a time, but you’re special, and by fan request, you’re going to fight three in a row.” He smiled widely at Carrie. “This is going to be our most-watched show ever. And that’s saying a lot: back before we had our own studio a rumble match broke loose and they destroyed a whole city.”
Carrie sat stunned, staring at him in complete silence. She was used to the exaggeration common in wrestling, but a whole city was even a bit much for her.
“You should be excited. It is really quite an honor,” he said shaking his head.
“Who will I be fighting?” she asked, still in disbelief.
“The first match you’ll face Serrin the Alterran. She’s a nasty bit of work, but the fans love to hate her, so they don’t mind if the Docs patch her back up when she loses. She rarely loses. Seventy three and nine, I think.” he looked down at his furry hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t really follow Serrin, she’s got no style.” He looked up smiling. “But I can get her actual stats if you need them, Queen Starr. I’m here to help any way I can.”
Maybe she was in Philly after all. Serrin sounded a lot like Mina the Tongan Queen, her first challenger.
“If you win that match, then you’ll face Quertxle. She brings in some loyal fans, but she’s an acquired taste. Make it past her, unlikely as that is,” he said shaking his head.
Stran had watched every one of Carrie’s Earth matches, at least every one that the interstellar array could pick up. Earth’s radio and television broadcasts had polluted interstellar space for years. Earthers, thinking they were alone, had never thought about who, or what might be watching them.
“And then you’ll face Rogoth the Destroyer. He’s the fan-favorite. I mean, who doesn’t love a four-armed telekinetic Arbornial?”
“Arbornial? What’s an Arbornial?”
Stran smiled. “There’s not a direct translation to English. I think it means ‘monkey.’”
“I’m wrestling an alien monkey? What kind of freak show is this?”
“It’s the greatest show in the Galaxy, and Serrin and Rogoth are its greatest competitors.” Stran lowered his head. Everyone knew even if Queen Starr defeated Serrin and Quertxle, Rogoth would defeat her.
That was the nature of the death-matches. The fans loved to root for the innocents, but even with one as famous as Carrie Starr, in the end, they wanted blood. They wanted to see Rogoth rip her limb from limb and devour whatever was left.
“Rogoth? Serrin? This isn’t Philly, is it?”
Stran gently stroked her hand, “Come on, Queen Starr, I’ll fill you in as we get you armored up for your matches.” He started walking her towards the opening door on the far end of the room.
“The Galaxy loves you. We’ve seen all your matches: big fans. Big fans. Anyway, the King decided it was time to bring you up to the big show. We call it King of the Rings, but if you win we’ll rebrand it Queen of the Rings.” They stopped walking when they reached a door with strange symbols on.
“Let’s get you armored up. I tried to make everything in your size. You’re 5’10? 155?”
“150, thank you very much,” Carrie snapped. The door slid open and Stran continued the tour.
“Okay, 150,” he said with a chuckle, “And Stranix297 is my mother, blebliexia.” Stran knew better than to swear in English— the King was probably listening.
He walked her further into the room gesturing past a floating video screen, the VideoTron, towards her wardrobe. “Over here we keep your armor for the fights. We styled it after your normal ring attire, but with some extras.” Hanging in front of what Carrie assumed was a changing screen were silver shorts, a metallic bustier, gold metal boots, gold armored gauntlets, and purple hooded cloak. It looked almost exactly like her WWC attire, except the cloak. She frequently wore purple feathered capes, just like her father, but never with a hood. She was a talented wrestler, but also stunningly beautiful. The WWC cameras loved her green eyes and the management would have never let her cover them with a hood.
“I’m not little Red Riding-hood. What’s with the cloak?”
“I know that’s new, but I didn’t know who you’d be facing when I got the order to armor you. Your outfit looked great but too exposed. Your head, your arms and legs, your stomach — they were all easy targets.” He smiled as he continued. “The cloak fixes that. It’s fireproof, waterproof, bulletproof – made from the best carbon nanite fabrics in the Galaxy.” Stran smiled widely. Carrie could tell he was proud of his creation.
“It’ll shield you from almost everything.” He took her gear off of its hanger and handed it to her.
“Go ahead, get changed,” he said gesturing with the gear. A small drone left its perch on the screen, as the screen lit up. The drone’s lights turned on as it began to hover around Carrie. Its camera lens extended from a front mounting with a whirring noise.
“What’s that?”
“Just a camera drone. The viewers are fascinated to see what you look like without the clothes.” Stran started to hand her the armor.
“I’ll wrestle whoever you want, but I don’t do skin.”
“But it’s all part of the show.”
“I am not just a piece of…”
A voice boomed from the video screen. “It’s alright, Stran. Carrie is our special event; besides, I told the board Earthers are prudish.”
“Whatever you say, King.” Stran backed away, cautiously, as Carrie stepped behind the screen to change.
“What a pleasure, Miss Starr, you have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve spoken with another human.”
“You’re a human?”
“Yes, I’m from Earth.”
She neatly folded her sweats and tank top into a stack on the floor. She was still wearing her sleep clothes. Maybe she was dreaming.
“Is this real?” She asked, not sure if her dream could answer.
“Yes, absolutely real. I’m sure Stran did his best to fill you in, but the Garrus just don’t make clones the way they used to. Too chatty, and not enough depth if you ask me.”
Stran exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry, Stran, could you give us a minute? I’d like to talk with Queen Starr, Earther to Earther.”
Stran walked out the door muttering to himself. “Just because I’m a clone doesn’t mean I’m deaf. Earther to Earther, stupid blaxen carpagie.”
Stran’s necklace lit up an iridescent blue. “Stran, what have I told you about your language?”
“I’m sorry, King,” was all that Stran said as the door slid closed behind him.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that Miss Starr. Stran is the best weapons and armor designer in the Galaxy, so I cut him a little slack, but we are a family show, and there is no room for his constant profanity.”
“Profanity? It wasn’t even English.” Carrie slid the shorts over her legs, cinching the belt tight. The shorts hissed as they formed a perfect fit around her lower body. “What the?”
“Carrie, can I call you Carrie? There are nanites in your armor. Once on, it will fit you like a second skin.”
She slid on her boots. “Who are you?”
“They call me the King. I run the show.”
“Like Lawler, or Elvis?” The bustier hissed closed as she fastened it in the back.
“Lawler: Elvis was a no-talent bum.”
“So you’re not an Elvis fan?” She pulled the gauntlets over her arms. They felt heavier than normal ones.
“I appreciate genius, not just hips.”
“What show?” She looked at the cloak. She wasn’t a piece of meat to be objectified, and more protection sounded better, but covering herself might restrict her movements.
“Like Stran said, King of the Rings. They named it after me.”
“Really?” Carrie still wasn’t sure if she was dreaming but decided to play along. “They named it after you?” Her subconscious had created quite the megalomaniac.
“Before me, it was called Death Game Show. It sounded better in the original Sandoleese.” He paused for a second.
“I was the first human to ever win. That, of course, was before the GC quarantined Earth. I think I scared them. I beat a Mansurian.”
“So, aliens abducted you from Earth to fight in Death Game Show?” When she woke up, this might make a great storyline after Philly.
“Abducted me? No, my life on Earth was over. The newspapers labeled me a killer. They ruin everything. I couldn’t get a break, or a comeback; then a Sandoleese talent scout found me and offered me a deal. The Galaxy loved me.”
“Where was my talent scout? I’d like to see the contract.”
“Yes, I’m sure you would. Unfortunately, the GC won’t let us contact Earth, but they can’t stop the TV waves. So our fans want to see Earthers, but we’re not allowed to recruit Earthers. Quite the dilemma. Our fans want what we can’t give them. So we bend the rules a little, and the fans are happy.”
“A little? How’d I get here?” A referee looking away at the right minute was bending the rules a little.
“We abducted you.”
“You abducted me?” Carrie’s body tensed with anger. “What gives you the right?” she shouted.
From her very first day of training Uncle Arn had warned about her temper getting the best of her. “You have to watch your emotions, Carrie. You always have to be in control of them. If you don’t, I can’t train you.”
Carrie breathed deep, steadying herself. “You know people will miss me, you just can’t go around abducting people.” Maybe she wasn’t dreaming. Maybe she’d gone crazy. She’d worked her whole adult life to stand on her own, to be more than Rick Starr’s daughter. Obviously, her subconscious had issues with that. It had drugged her and abducted her. It had victimized her. When she woke up, she knew she’d have a lot to talk about with her therapist.
“Carrie, as far as anyone knows, you never left. The Garrus are great cloners. Right now you’re in Philly defending your title. No one even knows you’re gone.”
“You cloned me?”
“I had you cloned, and let me tell you it wasn’t cheap.” He was just like a promoter, always worried about the money. “Before you ask, the clones are exact replicas of the original, right up to the moment the copy is made. Carrie the second doesn’t even know she’s a clone. As far as she knows you went to sleep in the Marriott and woke up at 4 a.m. to hit the gym.”
“So why didn’t you bring my clone here, and just leave me on Earth?” If this was a dream it was starting to get way too complicated.
“Carrie, it’s the protoplasmic goo they use to grow the clones. It gives off an iridescent glow. Humans can’t see it, but a lot of species can. The audience would know!”
Protoplasmic goo? She was pretty sure that wasn’t an actual thing, but she’d slept through a lot of her science classes, tired from her martial arts and gymnastics training. Her dad had never wanted her to be a wrestler, but he hired her the best instructors and coaches to make sure she knew how to defend herself.
He’d pushed her hard into gymnastics —an Olympic gymnast would have made all his years on the road worthwhile. A few too many growth spurts ended her father’s dream.
“Okay, King, assuming this is real, what’s in it for me? I mean, why should I perform?”
“Simple. If you win the Rings, you go home. If not, you stay here. Besides, Galactic Queen of the Rings is a title you can’t earn on Earth.” She looked at her reflection on the back of the changing screen. She fastened the cloak around her neck. It was a different look, but the extra protection could come in handy, besides, the hood didn’t look as bad as she had thought.
Taking a final glance, she noticed the necklace Uncle Arn had given her for her sixteenth birthday. She always wore it, except in the ring, it was too fragile. She undid its clasp and slipped the necklace into the pocket of her ring shorts.
Galactic Queen of the Rings sounded nice. That was a title even her dad would be proud of. She tried telling herself she didn’t care about that, but she knew that wasn’t true. Carrie moved from behind the VideoTron.
“What do you think, King?” she asked, gesturing towards her armor. She twirled around, letting the cloak flow through the air.
###
At first, when she told her dad she was going to wrestle, he didn’t take it well.
“All I ever wanted was for you to be better than me. I owe that to your mother. You had a chance, and now you’re throwing it away to be what, just another ring rat?”
“There you go again, Dad — the world has changed — and you haven’t. Women aren’t just rats following the talent around on leashes. We are the talent.” She knew every time he looked at her he saw her mother. He saw the woman that broke his heart and left them. She threw her drink on the kitchen counter.
“There’s a reason you have five exes,” she said as he slammed the condo door.
Uncle Arn, she was sure, felt the same way, but he knew she was determined. He knew her father was stubborn, but would eventually come around. So, he agreed to train her.
###
There was a slight buzz from the speakers on the VideoTron pulling Carrie back from her memory. “The show’s almost live. Head out the door and Stran will show you to the tunnel. Remember, Carrie, a good entrance wows the crowd.”
“A good entrance isn’t enough,” Uncle Arn would say, “it’s your close that sells the crowd and creates your fans.”
Stran greeted her as she entered the hallway outside of the door.
“Squeeze your fists twice quickly,” he said. She stopped walking and squeezed them. A dart, about the size of a pencil, projected from her left hand, and a buzz saw from her right.
“The fans love the gadgets, added those myself,” Stran said proudly. “You only have three exploding darts, so use them when you have to.”
She wondered if they had confused her with James Bond. “How do I use them?” she asked.
“Easy, squeeze your fist twice to activate, point at your target, then open your hand quickly. The dart will do the rest.”
A greenish rat scurried past them in the hallway. Carrie flinched. “Don’t worry about the yarboons, they’re everywhere. All they need is a little garbage and air and they breed like crazy. As long as they don’t bite you, you’ll be fine.”
“I won’t bite.”
“What was that?” Carrie asked.
Stran gave her a puzzled look. “I thought you humans had excellent hearing?” Stran raised his voice as he continued. “I said, don’t let one bite you. Nasty stuff, their bites.” He walked her to the opening of a tunnel leading down at a slight slope.
“He can’t hear me, only you can,” the voice said.
Stran stopped at the entrance to the tunnel. “When you reach the end of the tunnel, wait, there’ll be some loud bangs, flames shooting up, and the VideoTron will pop on. Wait a minute while Joltarn and General Zorrin announce the match. Once they’re done you’ll hear Killer Queen, your intro music. When it starts, head to the ring in the center. The song will stop right after the guitar solo. Look up then, and you’ll see them lowering Serrin the Alterran”
Carrie started down the tunnel, almost convincing herself this was the weirdest dream ever.
“It’s not a dream Carrie, this is real,” said the voice in her head.
She looked toward the ring at the end of the tunnel. “This is real?” She said.
“Yes, Carrie, very real.”
“Wait, Stran, we haven’t practiced. What’s the choreography? Who wins?”
“There’s no choreography. Just go out there and be the Queen of the Rings.”
“How do I do that?”
“Easy — don’t get killed,” Stran said as he shut the door to the tunnel behind her. She thought as she stood with her back against the door Stran was a bit melodramatic.
The voice in her head responded, “It’s a death-match.”
Can Carrie survive? Will she become Queen of THe Rings? What the heck is an Arbornial?
Find out in Carrie Starr Queen of the Rings.
her. She thought as she stood with her back against the door Stran was a bit melodramatic.
The voice in her head responded, “It’s a death-match.”
Can Carrie survive? Will she become Queen of THe Rings? What the heck is an Reborn?
Find out in Carrie Starr Queen of the Rings.
Available in E-book and Paperback