Beauty and the Space Beast: A Space Age Fairy Tale (Star-Crossed Tales)

by J. M. Page

  “Cool stuff?” he murmured, his interest piqued ever-so-slightly.

  Celine nodded, her smile growing underneath her covering. “Lots of cool stuff.”

  Rufus trembled, chirped and shook until she thought he might implode. Then finally he stilled and emitted a couple of beeps.

  “Okay, let’s do it!”

  Content that she’d gotten her way again, Celine set off in the direction she knew to be North. She didn’t have a lot of faith that they’d find much of anything, but it was at least a different quest.

  The day passed faster than Celine would have liked. She traversed the great expanse of desert, stopping now and again to rest and rehydrate, the only measurement of time available to her was the long winding path her footsteps made in the sand and even that was quickly erased.

  “Celine, don’t you think your dad’s going to wonder where you are?” Rufus asked as she ducked under a rocky overhang to catch her breath and clear her arm of accumulating dust. She took the little bot from its perch on her shoulder and whipped out a soft-bristled brush, cleaning the dust off before it could get thick enough to interfere with his systems.

  She looked out at the great shifting dunes and sighed. “You’re probably right. He’ll blow a fuse if he knows I was out on the surface all day.”

  “M-m-maybe we should go home,” Rufus stuttered as he tried to hide under Celine’s robe. “Last time he threatened to scrap me.”

  She had to stifle a giggle. Her father said a lot of things like that. As she’d gotten older, Celine realized he was never going to actually follow through with any of those threats. They were just his attempt at keeping her safe. Of keeping her in line.

  But Celine didn’t want to be kept in line. She wanted more than what she could find in their little tunnels. She wanted to see the sky. She wanted to leave the planet. She wanted to see the galaxy.

  If she ever said something like that around her father, he probably would blow a fuse.

  “I guess we’ll turn back then,” she said, a small part of her still rebelling against the idea.

  She replaced the folds of fabric around her body carefully and scooped Rufus up, letting him wriggle his way back onto her shoulder where he was safe.

  The roar of the wind picked up, making it difficult for her to hear even her own thoughts as she walked back into the maelstrom.

  But it wasn’t the sound of normal wind. There was a strange whirring. A high-pitched whine that stretched toward her.

  Ignoring her earlier decision to go home, she followed the sound, scrambling over a nearby dune just in time to see the hovercraft speed by.

  “Rufus! Did you see that?” Celine herself felt like she might be vibrating with excitement the same way he did when she talked him into these scouting missions. Her heart beat a quick rhythm against her ribcage, her lungs feeling over-inflated to the point where she was light-headed.

  Who was that?

  And what was that?

  Rufus withdrew into himself like a startled turtle. “Nope, nothing seen,” he whimpered.

  Celine rolled her eyes and scrambled down the other side of the dune, taking off in the direction of the hovercraft, making sure to keep her distance.

  She’d never seen a vehicle like that — it moved so fast! She wondered if it was capable of leaving orbit. Of seeing the sky.

  Her heart thundered at the thought. She’d heard stories of stars — burning balls of gas so far away that they only looked like pin pricks in the vast blackness of space. She’d heard stories, but never knew what to believe.

  Stars seemed like a made-up wonder that Celine would only believe if she saw it with her own eyes.

  Venturing to the stars was just an impossible fantasy until that moment. Until she watched the hovercraft list to one side, dive and bounce on the sand, eventually skidding to a stop.

  Chapter Two

  Ben

  Prince Bennett was used to being trapped. Trapped by his lineage, by expectations placed on his shoulders, by the walls of the palace. But he’d never been trapped by gravity.

  Flying had always been his refuge. The thing that came more naturally to him than even walking. The vast emptiness of space called to him like it had his ancestors millennia ago.

  And he was grounded.

  He walked through the vast empty halls without purpose, his eyes drifting towards the windows and the dusty orange sky beyond. The days grew longer and longer and there was little comfort to be found without flying. He couldn’t stand to be locked up in the palace any more than he could stand being grounded, so he ventured into the city.

  Tensions ran high in the walled city of Terranys lately. While the diplomats and bureaucrats squabbled about tariffs and tolls, the citizens were going without. With all flights grounded — in and out — there had been shortages, and the river of wealth that generally graced their economy had run dry.

  Opinions of the royal family were not favorable.

  But Ben was never one to let that stop him. When he first joined the Space Academy, other pilots treated him differently because of his heritage, but he quickly shut them up.

  If he was going to be grounded, he could at least be well-hydrated.

  It was only a couple of blocks to his usual watering hole, but as soon as he pushed the door open, Ben knew something was amiss. The general rowdiness that normally greeted him was replaced by stony silence as thirty pairs of eyes burned straight through him.

  He held up his hands, palm forward, the universal sign for ‘I’m not looking for trouble.’

  All around the bar, projected images of his father spoke about the political troubles and economic crisis. The Terranys News Network kept it playing on a loop, constantly reminding people why they were so disgruntled. Reminding Ben why they looked at him now, not as a brother, but as an other.

  “Your Highness,” sneered a young guy in a pilot’s gray jumpsuit, stepping up to offer his barstool. He looked barely old enough to be in a place like this, but his friends snickered behind him and Ben decided not to engage. It wouldn’t do him any favors to teach the kid a lesson in respect. Not with so many scrutinizing eyes already on him.

  He made his way to the very end of the bar, turning so that his back was against the wall and he could see the entire establishment.

  “You shouldn’t be here, you know,” said Alex, the bartender.

  “Stop giving me life advice and pour me a drink,” Ben answered.

  Alex huffed and walked away with a pronounced limp. His souvenir for his time in the Space Force.

  He returned with a frosty mug for Ben and the Prince took a long pull, savoring the bittersweet flavor.

  “I mean it, Ben. There are whispers of a coup, an uprising at the very least. You shouldn’t be out in a place like this, not without protection,” Alex said, his voice low and strained.

  Ben chuckled. “Are you saying you wouldn’t protect me? I thought we were brothers.” They’d served together years ago, before Alex’s… accident.

  Alex leaned forward, his elbows on the bar, and leveled his steely grey eyes at Ben, his brows pushed low in a scowl. “Because I’m your brother, I’m trying to warn you it isn’t safe.”

  Ben waved off his concerns. No one was going to cause trouble for him, and if they did, well… It would be more exciting than the constant rut of boredom he was in.

  He still felt eyes burning into him as he and Alex talked, but he paid them no mind. He’d gotten used to those kind of looks in the academy, back when he’d been the youngest recruit in three centuries and everyone thought it was because of his royal lineage.

  That was, until he flew.

  The need to prove himself wasn’t as strong these days as it once was, but The Grounding had his skin itching for excitement and his heart yearning for adventure.

  For now, he’d have to comfort himself with some of Terranys’s strongest drink.

  “You’ve been to the Wastelands, haven’t you, Ern?” The rude youngster from before tur
ned toward the opposite end of the bar where a grizzled old man sat surrounded by guys Ben’s age and younger. His rapt audience, apparently.

  “Oh, I most certainly have,” the old man said, waving the bartender over for another round of drinks. “And believe me when I tell you, that’s no place you wanna be.”

  Ben cocked an eyebrow over his mug, his interest piqued. Old Ernsen had been a great pilot in his day, but that day was in the past.

  Way way in the past.

  In the past few years, Ern had gotten himself into trouble a few times for his… forgetfulness. Sometimes he forgot the date or his medication. Other times he forgot his pants or what planet he was on.

  “Cause of the dust?” Another young pilot asked, dragging his stool to the old man’s side.

  Ern clucked his tongue and shook his head. “No. The dust will kill ya alright, but the real terror is…” He paused, looking around for effect, and like he was telling a ghost story to a bunch of children, he shook his head, tsking again. “Nah. You don’t wanna hear ‘bout that.”

  A chorus of protests erupted from the group of bored guys and Alex came over to refill Ben’s drink.

  “What’s Ern on about down there?” Ben asked, a smirk turning his lips.

  Alex lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug. “No telling today. Last week it was Moon Monsters out on Signys-5.”

  Ben nearly lost his drink through his nose after a violent snort of laughter. “Moon Monsters? You’ve gotta be kidding.”

  Alex shrugged again.

  “Come on, Ern, what’s out there?”

  The old man raised his knotted silver brows, his eyes sparkling obsidian. “Y’all really wanna know?”

  More encouragement.

  Ern heaved a great sigh, like it was going to be difficult for him to talk about. Like there was a physical weight on his spine as he leaned forward, elbows on the bar.

  “Modders,” he wheezed in a whisper. Murmurs spread through the younger ranks.

  Ben rolled his eyes. “This should be good,” he said, a little louder than he should’ve.

  The same confrontational pilot from before turned and whirled on Ben, his thin lips pulling into a menacing sneer. “You got somethin’ you wanna add, Your Highness? I don’t see you goin’ out into the Wastelands.”

  Before Ben could answer, Alex jumped to his defense. “That’s because nobody goes out there unless they got a death wish.”

  Ernsen cleared his throat, rattled by having the spotlight pulled away from him. He mumbled something under his breath, then nodded. “He’s right. No one leaves the walls, for good reason.”

  “Cyborgs are not that reason,” Ben said, but attention was already back on Ern as he puffed out his chest, ready to regale them with an exciting tale.

  “You believe what you will. I know otherwise,” Ern said.

  “What did you see?” One of the young guys said.

  “Tell us,” said another.

  Ben rolled his eyes, just drinking his drink and minding his business.

  “This was probably fifty years ago, mind,” Ern said, leaning in with a conspiratorial look.

  “Don’t let ‘em get to you,” Alex said, polishing a glass with a stiff rag. It came away looking cloudier than before and he shrugged. “They’re just looking for someone to blame. Everyone that knows anything knows The Grounding is killing you more than anyone else.”

  Ben lifted his brows and gave Alex a humorless laugh. “You can say that again.”

  Alex took a step, winced and stumbled forward, only barely catching himself on the edge of the bar before he fell. Ben jumped to his feet and leaned over the bar to offer his arm for support.

  “You alright?” he asked.

  Alex nodded, his face ashen and damp with sweat. “Just old flare ups, you know how it is.”

  Ben frowned. “Are you taking your medicine?”

  Alex laughed, dry and humorless. “I haven’t had any in a month.”

  Ben’s blood boiled. They’d talked about this. He knew Alex still struggled with the reality of his injury and life after the Force, but he needed to take his medication.

  “You wanna lose your leg? Can you even move your toes anymore?”

  Alex didn’t look him in the eye, still grimacing at his leg. “I’d settle for moving my ankle again. The foot’s already gone.”

  Ben’s heart clenched, his voice going low. “What the hell, Alex? You’re supposed to take your medicine every week.”

  “Tell that to the Grounding. They’re not even sending drones to the mines to collect it anymore. The hospital’s supply is gone.”

  Ben’s fist slammed on the bar. There it was. Of course it was the Grounding coming back to bite the very people who’d fought to keep Terranys safe. It wasn’t right. He should be able to do something to help his best friend. The Prince should be able to do something.

  “And there I was, crashed in the Wastelands, comms gone, not a prayer,” Ern said, his voice picking up for effect, drawing Ben’s attention.

  “I didn’t think anyone could survive the Wastelands!”

  Ern looked smugly satisfied and he gave the young buck a raspy chuckle and a clap on the shoulder. “No one had before or since. It’s only a miracle I did, because when that monster came for me, you can bet your last Terra I was crying for my momma.”

  “What did it look like?”

  “Was it really a modder? I thought those were just stories…”

  “They are just stories,” Ben growled, his grip on the mug tightening ‘til his knuckles turned white. There he was worried about things that actually mattered, while Ernsen told monster stories to the children.

  Modders, cyborgs, whatever you wanted to call them — they didn’t exist on Terranys. Never had, despite the legends. There wasn’t some clan of half-human, half-robot people living in the never-ending dust storm. There had been probes sent, searching for life. Weekly drones, picking up valuable teranite from the mines, surely would have spotted signs of life if there were any.

  “No one asked for your input,” one of the pilots said, his tongue flying freely with the protection of the group around him. Ben wouldn’t even know which one said it if he did want to do something about it.

  “It sure as hell was a modder,” Ern said, flustered again from the distraction. “I couldn’t see much out there in all the dust, but I saw him. More machine than man, eyes glowin’ redder than the devil’s ass.”

  Now Ern had them all paying attention. A hush crowded into the bar with them, making the air feel charged and tense.

  “We spotted each other at the same time and I thought for sure I was a goner. It looked at me with them evil glowin’ eyes and then it took off! Faster’n anything living coulda moved.”

  Ben groaned to himself. “Can you believe this guy?” he said to Alex, but the bartender was just as wrapped up in the story as everyone else.

  “How’d you get back to the city?” Alex said.

  “Simple, none of that ever happened,” Ben said, his voice sounding bitter to his own ears. Maybe it was just a story, but Ernsen should know better than to go filling people’s heads with such ridiculous trash.

  “You’re filling their heads with nonsense kid stories,” he said, ignoring the scathing looks sent his way. Next thing they knew someone would be going out in the Wastelands for evidence.

  Or for something else, he thought. Like teranite…

  “Nonsense? Kid stories! You believe what you like, but I know what I seen and these men know truth when they hear it. I came face to face with one of them monsters.”

  Murmurs of agreement rumbled around Ern, and Ben felt his plan forming. He didn’t even know what came over him. Maybe he was just eager for some action. Regardless, he couldn’t just sit by doing nothing while the old man spread lies and Alex suffered the slow creep of paralysis.

  Bolstered on by the encouragement of a younger generation, Ernsen added “If you don’t believe me, you can go to the Wastelands and we’ll see
if you come back singin’ the same tune.”

  Another murmur rose up, low and quiet at first, but it grew until Ben felt the pressure of voices crowding him into a corner.

  He tried to act surprised, and he was a little. He wasn’t used to people being so candid with him, but he was in a pilot’s club. There was no royalty here. Only flight hours. Battles won. Solar storms braved.

  But the suggestion was just what he’d been angling for and he had to fight back a smile. He was going to go to the Wastelands, prove the old man wrong, and get Alex’s medicine from the mines.

  More than that, he was going to get to fly.

  That thought brought forth a pang of longing. He hadn’t been behind the controls in so long and it felt like he was missing a part of himself.

  Ben looked around the bar and the skeptical crowd looking at him as an outsider.

  “All right. I will.” The murmurs died in an instant and Ben felt an odd sense of pride at the ensuing silence. They’d taunted and prodded him enough. Did none of them think him brave enough to accept?

  Alex leaned forward, a mask of concern written into his features. “You know you don’t have to go out there and get yourself killed to prove a point, right? They’re just stupid and drunk. No one actually expects you to…”

  Ern laughed. “The Crown Prince of Terranys in the Wastelands. That’ll be the day.”

  A ripple of laughter followed his words as the other patrons agreed with the old man. Ben grit his teeth together.

  “Ben, you’re too smart to get roped into something so foolhardy,” Alex said.

  Ben felt a sly smile tug at the corners of his lips. “Maybe, but I’m also bored out of my mind. I’m sick of being trapped and I could really use a good dose of excitement. Maybe searching for mythical modders is just the kind of reckless thing I need to do.” He didn’t want to get Alex’s hopes up about the medicine, not until he had it with him and he was back on this side of the wall.