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

by J. M. Page

  She examined the coin for another long moment, wondering if it belonged to Ben. If he was in the Space Force. Was he a flyer? It made sense.

  She felt that now-familiar buzzing in her chest at the thought of him. Was it really him or was it just the idea of him?

  That was a question for another day, she decided. Celine clutched the coin tight in her hand and helped Rufus back up to her shoulder. There were too many questions at that moment and not enough answers for her liking. It was frustrating, yes, but also somehow… exhilarating?

  The rest of the trip home passed quickly, her feet finding the way without any input from her conscious mind. That was a good thing, because Celine’s conscious mind was far, far away in a city surrounded by sky-high walls.

  A giddy excitement still had her heart beating wildly as she unwrapped her covering and hung it by the back door, slipping into her father’s shop hopefully unnoticed.

  The moment the door closed, Celine realized the shop was too quiet. Quiet enough to hear the tiniest screw skitter across the floor. Quiet enough to make the hairs on her neck stand to attention, her chest suddenly tight.

  With no small amount of trepidation, she tip-toed through the workshop to the next door, the one that led to the storefront where her father helped other modders with malfunctioning parts and upgrades. She eased the door open, one eye peering through the crack as she held her breath.

  “Where have you been?” His deep booming voice cut through her from behind.

  Celine winced, taking longer than necessary to back away from the door and turn to face him.

  He stood directly behind her — how a man of his size could move so silently, she’d never quite figured out — towering over her, a mountain of bulky muscle and gleaming machinery. Twin points of red light shone through his modified eyes and Celine wondered if this would be the day he actually incinerated her.

  “Where have you been, Celine?” Her father’s voice shifted from hot and angry to cold and calm. She preferred angry.

  She shuffled from one foot to the other while Rufus, the traitor, trembled on her shoulder.

  “I was out scouting,” she said, deciding on a half-truth. Hopefully that would be enough to get her out of this. Hopefully.

  Abatu’s mechanical eyes flashed red again and focused on her, scrutinizing her closely enough that she held her breath and fought against the urge to squirm.

  “I’m going to ask you again. Where have you been?”

  Celine knew better than to try and hide anything from her father. He always denied it, but she was positive those eyes of his had X-ray capabilities.

  “We were… I was… Just out looking for new parts,” she said, her voice falling. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth. Not with those angry lines in his forehead and the prickling sensations creeping up her spine.

  She didn’t have to account for her whereabouts, after all. Celine was a grown woman. Her father may be her boss and even the leader of the folks in the Wastelands, but he couldn’t control her, no matter how hard he tried.

  “Did you find anything?” His voice was still stern, disbelieving and suspicious. Guilt gnawed at Celine – she may not have to account for her whereabouts, but keeping secrets from her dad made her feel all kinds of awful.

  She sighed, looking at the floor as if it had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world. She couldn’t meet his gaze, but she couldn’t lie to him, either.

  “We saw a crash,” she said, sucking in a breath, waiting for his roar of anger.

  The air shifted in their little workshop and Abatu collapsed onto Celine’s usual chair. Springs groaned under his massive bulk and her father did something she’d never seen before: he dropped his head to his hands.

  In that moment, Celine felt like an intruder. Like she was witnessing some vulnerable moment that she should never be privy to. Her father was a strong man. A leader. Fair, just, and full of fire. But now he looked… Scared.

  “Dad?” Celine took two steps forward on the tips of her toes, afraid a change in the wind or one wrong word could send him into the frothing rage she’d expected.

  “Humans?” was all he asked.

  She nodded. “Just one… He was alone.”

  Her father’s head jerked up and their eyes locked. “He?”

  A cold slithery feeling of dread wormed its way down Celine’s esophagus and she nodded, her mouth as dry as the world outside.

  “He was hurt…”

  Abatu’s eyes flashed red again and a muscle in his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together. “Good. One less human out there hunting us.”

  Celine swallowed past the sand in her throat, trying to find the strength to nod. Her human hand slipped into her pocket and clutched the coin Rufus recovered in the crash.

  She said nothing. Abatu narrowed his eyes at her, and when he met her stony expression, he turned to Rufus, the quivering heap of bolts that would be sure to betray her.

  “Did you find anything while scouting?”

  Rufus cast a glance to Celine, then back to Abatu, before he buried himself into her shoulder again.

  “Well?” Her father prodded again, clearly directing the question to the loose-lipped bot.

  Unable to resist the compulsion to answer him, Rufus’s eyes popped up for just a moment, shaking his head from side to side. “There wasn’t anything cool in the wreck.”

  Celine winced. Wrong answer, Ru.

  Abatu narrowed his eyes at her again and Celine could feel the anger rolling off of him in waves. “You went to the wreckage? Are you out of your mind? That close to a human?”

  Rufus jumped to Celine’s defense. “No, the human wasn’t there anymore. He was already back in the walled city.”

  He seemed very proud of himself, but Celine had never been more tempted to unplug him herself. She glared at him and it took Rufus a long minute to realize he’d done something wrong, even if he wasn’t sure what it was.

  “Back in the walled city? How do you know that?”

  Rufus shuddered and took the question as his cue to dip back into his body, ever the mechanical turtle hiding in its shell.

  Celine sighed, knowing Rufus had backed her into a corner. There was no escaping her father’s wrath now.

  “Because I helped him get there,” she said, already flinching.

  “You did WHAT?” He jumped to his robotic feet, towering over Celine. His booming voice echoed around their cavernous workshop, rattling shelves setting off a frenzy of activity as parts, pieces, and half-completed bots tumbled to the floor and sprang to life.

  Celine and her father both ignored the clamoring around them, locked in a battle of wills.

  “He was injured and lost. I couldn’t leave him to die,” she said, hands flying to her hips.

  “You could have and you should have,” her father said, his voice edged with steel.

  “Just because you’re afraid of them, doesn’t mean I have to be. Did you know they have the technology to stop the dust? Did you? While we’re stuck living in these tunnels and caves, they get to breathe real air and go outside.”

  “Celine,” he said in a warning tone, grinding his teeth together again.

  Celine didn’t want to hear it. She was on a roll now.

  “How could you relegate us to this life in prison when there are other options? We could go to the city. We could leave this dusty planet if we wanted to!”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I made a mistake giving you the freedom to roam on your own. That ends now.”

  Celine opened her mouth to argue, but her father already turned on his heel and stormed out the same door she’d come through only a few minutes earlier.

  She stared after him in open-mouthed shock, wondering what she was supposed to do now. They’d had arguments like this before, but never quite like this. Never so explosive. And Abatu was never so calm at the end. He was a man with a fiery temper, prone to destruction and…

  Celine’
s blood chilled, her heart seizing in her chest.

  No. He couldn’t.

  Without another moment of hesitation, she flew through the very same door and followed him through the labyrinth of underground tunnels.

  “Where are you going?” She called after him, too scared to know the truth. Fact of the matter was, she already knew the answer. She knew exactly where her father was going and why. And it made her heart break just thinking about it. She had to stop him.

  “I’m putting an end to this silly obsession of yours once and for all, Celine. For your own good. This is where you belong. Not out there. Not in the city. And not in the stars. Here.”

  She jogged to keep up with him, needing three or four steps to keep up with each of his long strides.

  He took a right turn and another sharp turn and Celine’s heart hammered wildly, her stomach twisted itself into knots and she was sure she was going to be sick.

  “Daddy, please,” she begged, tugging on his massive forearm, nearly the size of her thigh. There was no way she could ever stop him physically.

  Abatu looked at her, his expression softening, his eyes back to steady blue. She never called him Daddy anymore. It was a last ditch effort to appeal to his emotional side and he seemed to know it. He reached down and ran his hand over her hair, tucking a wayward piece behind her ear.

  “One day you’ll thank me.”

  He ripped his arm from her grip and stepped into the cave that was Celine’s private treasure trove. Her father dwarfed the room, his shoulders barely avoiding brushing against both walls, the top of his head only a hair’s width from the ceiling.

  Celine watched in horror as he reached for something on a nearby shelf and smashed it on the ground. A scream of protest reverberated off the walls and she realized it had ripped from her own raw throat.

  He smashed treasure after treasure.

  “I’ll teach you where you belong, even if it’s a tough lesson to learn,” he said as tears streamed from her eyes.

  His eyes fell on something else, something she hoped he wouldn’t recognize – her meager attempts at scrabbling together a craft of some kind. She didn’t yet have all the parts to make it work, but she’d poured countless hours into it, praying that one day it could take her to the stars.

  “I’m not a little girl anymore,” she said, wiping her face, ashamed of her own disheartened display. “You can’t keep me locked up. If I want to go to the walled city I will.”

  “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.