The Prince and the Cyborg: A Space Age Fairy Tale (Star-Crossed Tales)

by J. M. Page

  “No daughter of mine will do any such thing,” Abatu swore, his eyes glowing angry and red once more. He turned to her cobbled-together craft and Celine choked back a sob.

  “Don’t do this, please,” she whispered.

  It was too late though. In a matter of seconds, white-hot lasers shot from his mechanical eyes, targeted at her prized possession.

  “It’s for your own good,” he repeated, and Celine wondered just who he was trying to convince at this point.

  The ship caught fire and exploded with enough force to shove them both out of the cavern, reeling backwards.

  Abatu crushed Celine into the wall behind her and she scrambled out from under him, a betrayal stronger than anything she’d ever felt taking root deep down inside.

  She looked back at the charred smoking remains of her treasured collection. Years and years of dreaming and exploring all for naught.

  Despair clawed at her throat and she choked back a sob.

  “How could you?” Fresh tears welled in her eyes, but Celine didn’t stick around for his answer.

  Quickly replacing the pervasive despair was anger. Pure, raw, and more intense than she ever thought possible. She wanted to destroy something he loved now, but the only thing she could think of was herself.

  She heard her father calling after her, but Celine marched on, not knowing where she went or what her plan was. She just knew she had to get away. Away from her father and his archaic ideas. Away from the prison of these tunnels. Away from the constant reminders of things she couldn’t have.

  Her father couldn’t cage her like this. He couldn’t just destroy everything she loved and act like it was for her benefit. She wouldn’t stand for it!

  If she wanted to have any hope of ever being happy again, she needed a way out and fast.

  Chapter Four

  Ben

  Opening his eyes required a great force of will. Ben struggled, his eyelids seemingly glued shut. They separated only a millimeter, letting in bright white light through thick lashes. He screwed his eyes shut again in an instant and groaned.

  Where was he? What happened? Memories flitted in and out of his consciousness faster than he was able to grab onto them.

  Finally, he pried his eyelids apart and squinted at the bright lights, looking around to find himself in some sort of sterile room. Each blink was painful, his eyes so dry they might as well be cracked leather. He fought to sit up, every muscle in his body screaming with exhaustion and he groaned. The sound was foreign to him, too. Strained, raspy, and anguished.

  Since when had he ever sounded like that?

  “Your Highness! You’re awake,” someone said, impossibly loud footsteps nearing his bedside. No, the footsteps were normal volume, it was his ears that were so sensitive.

  His mouth felt dry. So very dry. Like the desert beyond the walls of the city.

  The desert, the walls, great plumes of dust — memories rushed back in on him. Ben remembered stealing the hoverspeeder, sneaking out of the city and crashing.

  He remembered the feeling of helplessness at being stranded. The despair that came with realizing he was lost and would never make it home again.

  And then… there was emptiness in his memories. He’d fallen to the sand, struggled to get up, and resigned himself to his fate as the dust buried him alive.

  How did he ever get out of that?

  “You must be parched,” the voice said again. Ben still couldn’t manage to keep his eyes open for more than a moment, but he felt something cool press against his lips, a gentle hand in his hair, tilting his head back, helping him to drink.

  And drink he did. Cool water traveled over his parched lips, rejuvenating his tissue. It traveled over his leaden tongue, down his raw throat, bringing life back to his cells.

  And bringing back more memories.

  Memories of a girl, wrapped in white, helping him drink. He remembered her gentleness as she nursed him and wondered where she was. Who she was.

  A damp cloth was pressed to his eyes for a moment and Ben fought against the urge to give in to sleep. Who knew how long he’d been asleep already. He didn’t want to waste any more time. His rescuer could be far, far away by now and he’d never get to thank her.

  “Have another drink,” the voice said. With a little help, Ben drained the rest of the water.

  “H-how long?” he managed to rasp out.

  “You were found late last night. You’ve been asleep for the better part of a day. We weren’t sure you’d pull through.”

  Cool fingers forced his eyelids apart and Ben recoiled as ice cold drops hit his eyes. After the shock subsided, he was able to open his eyes without pain. The person who’d administered the drops was a man somewhat older than Ben himself, dressed in the all-white uniform of a medic.

  “We haven’t had to deal with a case of exposure in nearly a century. What were you thinking?”

  Ben bristled at the admonishing tone. He wasn’t a child, he was the Prince! He didn’t have to explain himself. Not that explaining himself would do him any favors.

  “The woman that saved me?” he managed, avoiding the medic’s question.

  The other man frowned and busied himself with checking Ben’s vitals.

  “You must have been hallucinating, Your Highness. No one was found with you and no one could survive the Wastelands. We’re not exactly sure how you did it.”

  It was Ben’s turn to frown. He knew how he’d survived: with help.

  Memories of an enclosed space, a high-pitched whining, and… But no, it couldn’t be.

  He closed his eyes and tried to remember her. The canteen lifted to his lips, her hand on his back, forcing the dust from his lungs. He’d opened his eyes and saw her hand — her metal hand — giving him life.

  He opened his eyes again. Maybe he had hallucinated it all. After all, he’d gone out there looking for modders. It only made sense that his dying hallucinations would be comprised of mythical cyborgs.

  But if it was all in his head, that didn’t explain how he’d wound up back at the wall. Or his memories of the most brilliant green eyes he’d ever seen.

  That was the one part of her that made an impression on him more than her mechanical arm; those impossibly verdant eyes that seemed to bore a hole to the very core of his being. How could he remember such a thing after being on Death’s doorstep?

  One thing was for certain: old Ernsen knew what he was talking about. Modders did exist, at least one of them did, and they were in the Wastelands. How did they survive undetected for so long?

  And why did they stay out in the dust where survival was a constant struggle?

  Ben thought of Ern and the young pilots talking about the modders being evil monsters and had his answer. But he didn’t think they were monsters. At least not this one. She’d helped him. Saved him.

  And he needed to find a way to thank her.

  He sat up in bed with great effort and found himself tangled in cords and wires going to various monitors.

  Ben frowned at his bindings and turned to the medic. “Unhook all of this, please. I have things to do.”

  “I… umm—” the medic muttered, shuffling from one foot to the other.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible Bennett,” a familiar voice said, sending dread-filled annoyance through Ben’s blood system.

  In the doorway stood a stoic figure in full military regalia, his hands clasped behind his back, his lips pressed into a thin line.

  The medic nearly jumped out of his skin, bowing until his body was folded in half. “Your Majesty,” he said.

  “Father,” Ben said, his voice tight.

  “Leave us, please,” the King said to the doctor, his voice pure unquestionable authority.

  The door closed behind the medic and Ben’s father approached his bedside, never quite looking at his son.

  “You’re not to leave this room until I’m satisfied that you’ve made a full recovery,” he said.

  Ben grit his teeth toget
her. “I’m fine.”

  Then his father looked at him, fire burning in his golden eyes. “You’ve embarrassed us. All of us. You directly disobeyed the Grounding, stole from law enforcement and nearly got yourself killed for a bar bet.” There was no question in the King’s voice. He already knew all of this to be fact.

  “It’s a wonder you made it back alive at all, but I can’t have you sullying the name of the crown with things so… tumultuous as they are. You’re to stay here until you’ve recovered. For your health, Bennett.”

  Ben suppressed a growl, his hands clenching the sides of the bed with white knuckles.

  “Don’t try to say it’s for my health. You want to keep me locked up so I don’t do any more damage to your reputation. Just say it like it is, Father, I’m not a child anymore.”

  The King’s face darkened with anger. “You could’ve fooled me with that stunt of yours. How am I ever going to entrust the ruling of Terranys to you? You can’t even abide by the simplest decrees.”

  “Because your decree is inane and short-sighted. You want to talk about damage to the Crown’s reputation, you should look more closely at this grounding and its effect on our citizens.” Like Alex… Ben wondered what happened to his suit, if the teranite was still in his pockets.

  He knew the moment the words were past his lips that he’d gone too far. Pushed his luck further than he should’ve. His father’s face smoothed out, not a wrinkle or crease to belie the fuming rage simmering beneath. With the cool detachment he’d come to be known for, the King said “I’m sorry you feel that way. Get well soon, son.” He turned without looking at Ben, and left the room, saying something under his breath to the medic that he passed on his way out.

  The medic came back in with a forced smile and a little tin full of pills.

  “Take these,” he said, thrusting the tin and another water at Ben.

  Ben eyed the pills with suspicion, wondering if they’d been prescribed to him before, or after, the chat with his father.

  “What are they for?” he asked.

  The medic shrugged. “Our usual regimen for exposure. The best treatment is rest. This will help you relax.”

  Ben rolled the tablets in his hand with a nod. He found it suspicious that they had a ‘usual regimen’ for exposure when the medic mentioned they hadn’t had a case in a century.

  “There’s something else that may help me relax,” he said. “My dog, Bora? She does a good job of keeping an eye on me.” He popped the pills in his mouth and lifted the water to his lips.

  The medic smiled and nodded, turning toward the door. “Sure thing, I’ll see what we can do.”

  Ben waited for the medic to leave before he spit the pills back out, tossing them behind the bed where they wouldn’t be found until he was long gone.

  And then he waited.

  Chapter Five

  Celine

  She stalked through the tunnels, still swiping at hot angry tears, fighting the baffling reality that everything she cared about was gone. Rufus seemed to sense her simmering anger and nuzzled against her neck.

  “I’m sorry Celine. I didn’t mean for that to happen…”

  Celine ground her molars together and gave him a curt nod. “I know you didn’t. I’m not angry at you.” After all, Rufus was just an AI. One that she programmed. Any faults in his communication skills were faults that she let slide. No, she wasn’t angry at Rufus at all. Everything else – her father, old prejudices, the way Ben flinched at the sight of her arm, being on this worthless planet – she was mad at plenty of things, but not Rufus.

  “M-m-maybe he’s right though. That city is dangerous. You… you should stay with your own kind… I mean, for your safety.”

  Celine stopped in her tracks and turned to lower a definitive glare at the shivering bot. “I would rather die or be murdered for following my dreams than live out a perfectly safe life in this prison. Life isn’t worth living if you aren’t, well… living.”

  Rufus stuttered, but was interrupted.

  “A fine sentiment, my dear,” a raspy voice said from the shadows.

  “Who said that?” Celine called out, her voice echoing off the cave walls.

  There was a clicking sound, like someone clucking their tongue, if their tongue was dense and protected by a hard carapace.

  The hairs on Celine’s arm stood at attention and she squinted into the darkness.

  “A friend,” the feminine voice said.

  “What kind of friend hides in the shadows?” An unconscious alarm tip-toed up her spine and Celine chose to dismiss it, curiosity and anger getting the best of her.

  She was somewhat aware of Rufus whimpering on her shoulder, though he didn’t occupy any of her immediate attention as the clicking noise came again.

  “Someone who has been hurt more than you, child, and has learned her lesson about trusting too easily.”

  Celine frowned and tried to place the voice, both raspy and soft all at once, not unlike the powdery dust outside. There was no doubt in Celine’s mind that this was someone to be wary of, regardless of her sweet words.

  “What do you want? Can’t you see I’m upset?” Celine knew her eyes must be red and puffy from tears, her face splotchy and nose running. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in a hole and cry herself to sleep or run away forever and never look back. She knew which one sounded more appealing, and which one sounded more likely. Unfortunately, those weren’t the same.

  “I only wish to help you, dear one. I can see you’re hurting and maybe I have the answer to your problems.” More clicking accompanied the words.

  Celine inched forward her neck outstretched as if that would help her see or hear more clearly. Rufus whined, high-pitched and grating, and Celine shushed him.

  “Please don’t go over there,” he whimpered.

  “Don’t make me disable your battery,” she said, all patience gone for those who stood in her way.

  He whined again but was otherwise quiet as Celine crept nearer to the voice.

  “How can you help me?” Celine didn’t know why she felt the need to whisper. No one ever came to this part of the tunnels, buried deep in the planet’s crust.

  “Ah,” she said with a click-clack sound. “It would be easier to explain somewhere… more private.”

  Celine looked up and down the deserted corridor and narrowed her eyes, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I’m pretty sure this is private enough,” she said.

  There was a flurry of clicks that Celine thought might be angry and the voice that answered was tight, strained. “It is not. If you want my assistance, you’ll have to come with me to my home.”

  Celine took a step backwards and chewed on the thought for a moment. She had no idea who this person was – or if it was even a person – and no one knew where she’d gone. No one would think twice if she disappeared never to return again. No one would think to look for her if this person had less virtuous intentions than she said.

  Still, she didn’t have much of a choice. If this person wanted to do her harm, there was nothing stopping them from doing it the moment she rejected the offer. On the other hand, if they could help… Well, what did she really have to lose?

  In a day full of bad decisions, Celine made what she thought might be the worst of them all.

  “Okay. Lead the way.”

  Down long winding tunnels, past many empty and dark caverns, Celine followed the clicking sound. With every turn, her breath shortened, her pulse quickened, and Rufus’s whining intensified.

  “We should just go back,” he hissed into her ear. He was no better equipped to see in the dark than she was — an oversight on her part, now that Celine thought about it.

  “Too late for that,” she said out of the corner of her mouth. She didn’t want her ‘friend’ to hear their conversation. She still wasn’t sure how trustworthy the friend was and if they heard her having second-thoughts, that could spell disaster.

  “Just trust me, okay?”
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br />   Rufus whimpered, but slowly nodded and dove into the fabric covering her shoulder. She patted him absently, never taking her eyes off the dark area the clicking emanated from. What kept this person in the shadows? Some deformity?

  The thought made Celine frown. Everyone in the Wastelands was born with some anomaly. It was how they got their modified parts — what made them Modders. It had started in the old days, exposure to the foreign planet and working in the dust caused… problems with babies.

  But they’d adapted. They figured out how to meld machinery and flesh to become whole again. Better even.

  Celine flexed her robotic hand, making a fist in one hand as easily as she could in the other. Dad upgraded it every so often when she was growing up, and there was that one summer when it seemed he was lengthening it every other day to keep up with her growth spurt.

  But it was perfect, a part of her, seamlessly as any other part.

  Everyone had a story like hers, though the anatomy differed. Celine wondered what could’ve happened to someone to cause them to live so far outside of society, small and remote a society it may be. It wasn’t in their nature to disparage someone for being different; it was in their differences that they formed community.

  Unless that difference was being human, Celine scoffed, a wave of heat flushing her veins at the thought.

  Could that be it? Was there another human down here? Was that how she was going to help Celine get into the city?

  It was the only thing that made sense, really, and it happened to give Celine an overwhelming sense of relief.

  “Here we are,” the soft voice said, turning a corner.

  Celine followed into pitch black, a prickle of anxiety creeping up the back of her neck again.

  She squinted at the faintest red glow, trying to spot the source, but soon, the whole cavern glowed a dim red. Celine heard a weak burbling, bubbling, but she never managed to look around for the source.

  Because now, in the soothing red glow, she saw her so-called friend. It was not a human.