Five Glass Slippers: A Collection of Cinderella Stories

by Elisabeth Brown

  He realized he was rambling, and he fell silent, thinking for a moment. Marraine watched him with her bright, unblinking eyes.

  He made his decision. “Marraine,” he said slowly, “you mentioned wanting to explore. Do you think the rest of your crew might feel the same way?”

  Marraine’s eyes sparkled.

  The next day the entire cinder crew, minus Jaq, rode the shuttles to the mining hub to gather their belongings. The shuttle pilots had to dodge debris fragments to reach the dock, but the employee area, located in the center of the hub, had been spared the worst of the storm damage. Artificial gravity still worked, but life support had not yet been restored, so the cinders wore their suits as they made their way to the locker room.

  Elsa patted her locker door affectionately. It was dented from where something had obviously careened into it during the upheaval yesterday, but she was able to force it open.

  “Marraine!” she cried in delight, picking up the dress from the bottom of the locker. “Your dress is still intact.” She tried to hand it over, but the fay shook her head.

  “Please keep it,” Marraine said, smiling. “It was a gift.”

  Elsa thanked her, once again touched by the fay’s generosity. She climbed on the bench to reach her top locker shelf, fumbling blindly to make sure she hadn’t left anything up there. “Maybe wherever I end up will have stepstools,” she said.

  “Darling, forget a stepstool—you need stilts,” Gus said.

  Elsa threw a towel from her locker at him. She smiled, but she felt like crying. She was going to miss this so terribly.

  Finally everyone had everything gathered. Marraine cleaned out Jaq’s locker for him, piling his belongings on a bench, and the rest of them helped her carry his things to the shuttle. They piled all of their gear at their feet and in extra seats, taking off their bulky helmets as soon as the door sealed.

  Bruno’s face didn’t look nearly as long as usual, a sure sign that he was depressed. Gus was sniffling into his sleeve and pretending he wasn’t. No one really felt up to talking, but no one wanted to part ways either. As they disembarked to go their quarters, they made plans to meet later.

  Elsa and Gus helped Marraine carry Jaq’s gear as they all wrestled with their own suits. The three of them dropped Jaq’s belongings off at his quarters.

  Elsa shifted her gear and Marraine’s dress to her other arm so she could set Jaq’s things down. “Oh,” she exclaimed. “This is Jaq’s helmet. I wonder where mine is. Do either of you have it?”

  Marraine and Gus checked their piles. “Nope,” Gus said. “Maybe you left it on the shuttle?”

  Annoyed with herself, Elsa looked through everything again. “I must have. I’ll run and check right now. See you both later.”

  They waved as they headed to their respective quarters.

  By the time Elsa reached the dock, the shuttle had already departed again. She sighed and pressed the wall comm. “When will the shuttle be back?” she asked the operator.

  “Should be within the next hour.”

  “I believe I left some personal belongings on board. If you find a helmet, could you please return it to Elsa Vogel? I’m in D1950.”

  “Will do, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.”

  The moment Elsa returned to her quarters, Marraine called her via commlink. “Check your messages. You’ll be glad you kept the dress,” she said, something unidentifiable in her tone, and hung up.

  Elsa brought up her list of messages, and an invitation immediately caught her eye. She read it and laughed aloud.

  “Back to the Sovereign so soon?” she murmured, unable to wipe the smile from her face. She accepted the invitation.

  Karl left the Sovereign and boarded the shuttle to Tremaine Station for his meeting with the station master. His father had quickly agreed to Karl’s suggestion to host a reception aboard the Sovereign for the cinder crew and the station staff in recognition of their service.

  He had still to convince his father to accept his second, more ambitious plan.

  Karl buckled himself into the harness, and a moment later was glad he had done so. The gravity shorted out. An apologetic voice came over the intercom. “Very sorry, Prince, the gravity’s a bit temperamental. Should be back up in a moment—or rather, back down.” The shuttle pilot chuckled at his own bad joke.

  Karl bit back a sigh. That nickname had caught on far, far too quickly. Just as well he was going to the far-flung limits of the galaxy; it seemed he would have to in order to avoid the moniker.

  Something caught his eye, floating in the corner of his vision. He twisted as much as the harness would permit. A helmet drifted down the aisle of the shuttle, and he reached out to snag it as it came within his grasp. It was very small, he noted—almost too small to belong to an adult. He wiped the soot-smudged faceplate with his sleeve, turned the helmet over in his hands, and caught his breath. Someone had written the letters E.V. on the lining inside the back of the helmet. A slow grin spread across his face.

  10

  The next day, the shuttles were packed full of laughing cinders dressed again in unaccustomed finery as they made the trip over to the Sovereign. The reception was held in the ship’s meeting hall, and the poor orchestra members, still on loan from Charger 751, were pressed into service once more. Let it never be said that Captain Tsarevich ever threw a party without dancing.

  It was the captain’s son, however, wearing the long dark coat of the fleet, who greeted every cinder as he or she entered, with a wide smile and a firm handshake for everyone. And if he scanned the crowd a few too many times for a particular diminutive cinder, no one commented. A few did comment on the fact that, for some reason, the lieutenant had what looked like a cinder’s helmet tucked under his arm.

  Bruno wheeled Jaq into the reception area, a medic hovering anxiously behind them. “Really, sir,” the medic said, “I’m not sure this is a good idea! My patient—”

  “Your patient wouldn’t miss this for the worlds,” Jaq said. “Wheel me over to the lieutenant,” he told Bruno imperiously.

  “Watch yourself, young lord,” Bruno grumbled. “Radiation sickness or not, I’ll still trounce you.”

  Karl grinned to see them approach. “Jaq, how are you?”

  “Feeling quite well, though he doesn’t believe me,” Jaq said, jerking a thumb at his hovering medical attendant.

  “Oh, one evening surely can’t do too much damage,” Karl said to the attendant.

  “We’ll make sure he doesn’t wear himself out,” Marraine said, walking up and giving Jaq a smile like a gift. Jaq flushed. Marraine took the wheelchair handles from Bruno and winked at him.

  Bruno gaped. “You can blink?” he whispered.

  “That’s a tale for another time,” Marraine said mysteriously, and wheeled Jaq away towards the dance floor.

  Karl laughed before turning to Bruno to offer his hand. “You must be Bruno. I wanted to thank you personally for what you did the other day. You made the right decision, whatever the mining officials may have told you. A level-headed man like you is to be prized, and I was particularly impressed with how your crew worked together.”

  Bruno shook his hand, a little awed. “Thank you, sir!”

  “Please don’t; everyone’s been ‘sir’-ing me all evening. Call me Karl.” He scanned the crowd for what must have been the eighth time. “Er, Bruno,” he began hesitantly, “are all of the cinders here?”

  Bruno glanced around the room. “Just about. Except Elsa, of course. I believe you’ve met her.”

  Karl nodded mutely.

  “She’ll be along in a jiffy. She was glancing over the shuttles, looking for a lost helmet of hers.” Bruno narrowed his eyes at Karl. “Rather like the one you’re holding, as a matter of fact.”

  Karl blushed, but before he could answer, the clones approached and entered the conversation. Today’s color was yellow, evidently. From across the room, Bruno saw Jaq pretend to be blinded by their bright clothing.
r />   “Why do you have that helmet?” one of the clones asked Karl.

  He polished its surface with his sleeve absently. “I think it belongs to a cinder I met at the party,” he replied. “I wasn’t able to get her name before the trouble began, and I mean to return it tonight.” He added, “I doubt it would fit anyone else on the station, it’s so small.”

  “Why, that helmet belongs to one of us,” the clone said. “We’ve both misplaced ours, haven’t we?”

  The other clone nodded vigorously. “Don’t you remember? You met both of us at the dance. We had no idea you were so impressed.” She smiled in an attempt at flirtatiousness.

  “Let us try on the helmet,” said the first clone, pulling the helmet from his grasp. “If it fits, you know it was us.”

  “I don’t think—” Karl began helplessly, but the clone was already tugging the helmet on her head. Bruno struggled bravely not to laugh.

  “There, see?” Pricilla said breathlessly, her voice muffled by the helmet. “It fits perfectly.”

  “But you can’t even see out of it,” Karl said gently. The helmet was clearly too small, and since she couldn’t pull it down all the way, the faceplate was mainly over Priscilla’s forehead instead of her eyes.

  “Let me try,” said the other clone. She wiggled the helmet off of her double’s head.

  Karl frowned. “But you’re clones. You’re the same size—” Over the clones’ shoulders, he saw Bruno shake his head in warning. “Er, never mind,” he said. “Go ahead.”

  Predictably, the helmet didn’t fit Camilla any better. “But we spoke to you at the dance,” she said in despair, wrestling it back off of her head.

  “Yes, I recall,” Karl said, not unkindly. “You made me most welcome, and I am grateful to you.”

  Bruno rescued him. “If I could talk to you for a moment, sir?”

  “Of course. Ladies, if you’ll excuse me?”

  The clones were crestfallen, but they were out of arguments. “If you can’t find who you’re looking for,” Priscilla said wistfully, “you know where to find us.”

  Karl took each one’s hand, bowed low, and kissed their hands in turn. “Thank you, Priscilla and Camilla.”

  He and Bruno walked to a quiet area of the room, leaving the clones nearly beside themselves. “That was kind of you,” Bruno said. “They’re both lonely, and they’ve not had easy lives. They’ll be talking about that kiss for weeks.”

  Karl smiled. “You’re quite the softy yourself.”

  Bruno shrugged, but his eyes twinkled. “Don’t go giving me away, sir. I have a reputation as a surly curmudgeon to uphold.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me, but only if you quit calling me ‘sir.’”

  The older man laughed. “Fine, Karl. Now, if you don’t mind, we don’t get food like this every day—I’m going to avail myself of your buffet table.”

  Karl made a shooing motion with his hand. As Bruno moved away, Karl left the room and hurried to the shuttle bay.

  When he arrived, he only saw the guard on duty. “Excuse me,” Karl asked her. “Have you seen the cinder Elsa?”

  “I’m here,” said a voice behind him. He spun around.

  Elsa was wearing the fay dress again, and it glittered under the Sovereign’s lights. “I apologize for being late to your reception,” she said with a smile. “But to be fair, I believe you owe me an apology too.” She gestured to the helmet under his arm. “The Prince, a common thief? Think of how people will talk.”

  He held the helmet out to her, grinning. “Forgive me,” he said. “I’m sorry you’ve been hunting for it. I found it on the shuttle and wanted to return it in person.”

  She took it from his hand, baffled. “Why?”

  He let out his breath carefully. “Truth be told, I wanted an excuse to talk to you again. I have some news.” He looked suddenly shy. “I hope you’ll think it’s good news. My father is announcing it to the rest of the station crew right now, I expect.”

  She tilted her head inquiringly.

  “Marraine told me about the cinders’ situation, how you’ll all be separating to work elsewhere, at least until Aschen is back in business.” He paused. “Elsa, I grew up on a ship, seeing how a tight-knit crew interacts, and what can be accomplished when crew members care for one another. I saw that with your cinder crew, the way you all worked together so seamlessly. To pull apart a bond like that is almost a crime.”

  Elsa watched him closely. “I agree with you. But what else can be done?”

  “As you discovered, the Sovereign is going on an exploratory mission. We’ll be away from port for a year, and as a result, all of our crew are volunteers—those who were willing to leave family, forego the chance of promotion earned in battle, and travel far from the civilized regions of the galaxy. We’re not running a skeleton crew, exactly, but it’s not much better. We could use crewmembers who are already dedicated to one another, accustomed to dealing with space machinery, used to risk without much reward in return.” He hesitated again, unsure how to phrase this.

  Elsa was holding her breath, her heart racing. “You can’t be saying what it sounds like you’re saying.”

  Karl finished in a rush. “I know, not all of the crew will want to come, and I know it’s terribly unorthodox, bringing aboard crew who aren’t fleet-trained. The jobs available are hard: only crewmen positions. But my father agreed to offer them to the cinder crew, if you’re willing to throw your lot in with ours.”

  Elsa made a noise between a laugh and an exhale. “Your father agreed? So this was your idea?”

  Karl smiled. “It was. I will admit to some . . . selfishness in motive. You spoke so passionately about exploration. This seemed a way to provide you the chance to embrace that passion. There may even be a chance for you to gain propulsion training while you’re aboard . . . if that’s something you want.”

  Elsa said nothing, turning the helmet over in her hands. She didn’t trust her voice.

  Karl dropped his eyes. “I know it’s not without sacrifice,” he said. “Perhaps you want to stay with your chosen profession—it would make sense. And you hardly know me. Not that that need affect your decision!” he added hastily. “This is an offer of employment, not . . .” He waved his hand in a vague gesture, trailed off, and finally looked at her again.

  Elsa was silently laughing at him, having regained her composure after watching him lose his. “I’m honored to accept your offer,” she said.

  Karl’s face cleared. “You’ll come with me then? I mean, with us, aboard the Sovereign?”

  “Most happily,” she said with a grin. “Who knows what we may discover on the edge of the galaxy? You may find that you need a cinder one day, out there.”

  A cheer drifted down the hallway. The King had clearly made his announcement.

  “I think I’m well on my way to needing one already,” Karl said quietly, his voice lost in the uproar. He offered Elsa his arm. “Shall we join them?” he asked more loudly.

  The clones all but ran into them as soon as they entered the hall. “Elsa, you’ll never guess! We’re to be promoted!” they chorused.

  “You’re not leaving Tremaine Station, are you?” Elsa asked.

  Priscilla (Camilla?) shook her head. “Nope. We’ve had enough of exploring during our former lives. We’re going to be taking over Nebraska’s position!”

  Elsa knew the clones were efficient, despite their quirks, but she was still surprised that the mining officials possessed the wherewithal to see it. “And what about Nebraska?”

  Hearing a squeak behind her, she flinched. Old habits died hard.

  “I’ll be going to Charger 751,” Nebraska said as Elsa turned around. “I’ve never enjoyed working on a mining station,” she continued. “Perhaps you, ah, noticed.”

  Elsa said nothing, in as noncommittal a way as possible.

  “I was speaking with the orchestra members. Maybe you don’t know,” Nebraska said almost bashfully, “I love music. They’re going to
have an open position soon.”

  “For a cellist, right?” Elsa asked. “I knew you were learning to play.”

  The clones’ faces were mirror images of shock. “We didn’t know that,” one of them said. “So when you played those same pieces over and over, driving us crazy . . .”

  “It was because you were trying to learn them?” the other finished.

  Nebraska turned her head slowly, artificial eye whirring, and fixed the clones with a glare that could have blistered the paint off the bulkhead.

  They quailed. “We’re . . . we’re going to go,” they said in unison, and fled.

  Elsa struggled mightily not to laugh. She cleared her throat. “I’m so glad to hear that, Nebraska. It sounds as though you’ll be very happy.”

  Nebraska’s mouth twisted in what may have been a smile. “I don’t know if I’d go that far. But it will be an improvement.” She seemed about to leave but turned back to Elsa. “And I do congratulate you on your new opportunity,” she said, only a little bit grudgingly. She left before Elsa could say anything more.

  “Will wonders never cease,” Bruno said as he approached with Jaq and Marraine in tow. “It’s been a shocking evening.” He shook Karl’s hand wordlessly in thanks.

  “Did you hear, Elsa?” Jaq interrupted, practically bouncing in his chair as he rolled up.

  Marraine put a slender hand on his shoulder to settle him. “Jaq Perrault, be still.”

  “I did!” Elsa answered. “Will all of you accept the captain’s offer?”

  Gus snorted. “Are you daft? I wouldn’t miss it for the worlds.”

  Marraine smiled. “Jaq and I also accept. I hunger to see more of the world. And I don’t think I could stop him from following me,” she said, glancing down at Jaq, “radiation sickness or no.” Her tone was stern, but her eyes shone.