Pine, Alive: A Science Fiction Romance Pinocchio Retelling (Foxwept Array Book 1)

by A. W. Cross

  “We did it.” Under the warm of the sun, his amazement turned to giddiness and he swept her up and spun her around, her feet narrowly missing Joseph’s head.

  She punched his shoulder. “Put me down before you throw me overboard.” But her smile was delighted.

  He complied, but he couldn’t resist cupping her face in his hands. They would have their chance after all, and he wanted nothing more in that moment than her, the smile on her lips, the smile that was for him. Light slanted over the delicate planes of her face and his heart swelled at the warmth in her eyes as she gazed at him, drinking him in like he was her freedom from the dark depths, rather than the open sky. But in truth, she was his.

  It was always going to end this way. You knew it, and that’s what you were afraid of. But now, it seemed so obvious, so easy. How could you have wanted anything else? He traced his fingertips over the ruined side of her face. So what if she wasn’t human? She was more than human. She was everything he could never even dream of.

  “I love you, Pine.” It was so familiar on his tongue, as though his soul had murmured it to him, night after night, until he’d finally listened.

  “James—” She stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. Then, finally, he pressed his lips to hers and everything else in the world disappeared—every fear, every doubt, every sorrow, eclipsed by her.

  Her mouth was at once hungry and reverent, parting beneath his as she stroked the damp skin on the back of his neck. “I love you too.” Her whisper passed over his lips and rippled down his spine, and he willed the rest of the world away, wanting to hold on to the revelation that was her in a moment that would last forever.

  As he bent to kiss her again, a thunder of applause skated over the water between them. A fleet of ships had surrounded them, their decks swarming with people, all of them cheering. Encircled by a number of smaller boats, some unmarked, others with the insignia of local news channels and networks, was a large, white military vessel. An emerald-haired figure stood on the deck, grinning and waving furiously.

  Pine pulled back and turned, smiling ruefully. “Is that Blue?”

  James raised his hand in greeting just as an unyielding, inhuman arm wrapped around his neck and dragged him overboard.

  Pine had no time to react. One moment James was there, and the next he was gone, with barely a ripple to mark his passing.

  “James!” Pine screamed, rushing to the edge of the open hatch. “James.”

  Joseph grabbed her by the shoulder, his fingers digging into her synthetic flesh. “What happened? Where’s James?”

  “The captain,” Pine gasped. “He’s taken him.” She peeled her shirt over her head then scrambled out of her pants. “I’m going after him.” She dove off the exposed deck of the cockpit, ignoring the many pairs of astonished eyes and Joseph’s hands trying to hold her back.

  James and the captain hadn’t gotten far. The captain’s head sat at an odd angle on his broken neck, one eye gazing upward, and the other down past his shoulder to the dark depths waiting to embrace them. His arms were undamaged and locked around James, using nothing more than his own solid weight to carry them down. James thrashed in his grip, surrounding them with a haze of tiny bubbles.

  Pine cut through the water like an arrow, gaining on them. The captain may have had a head start, but he was no match for a woman who’d lived her entire life in these waters. Years of immobility as he’d played at the role of captain had taken their toll, and his limbs were uncoordinated and stiff.

  Her body crossed the path of the sun, and both men looked up. The captain bared his teeth in a snarl and tried to angle James’s body for a faster descent.

  Not here. Not in my ocean.

  James stared up at her, his semi-conscious expression one of disbelief and regret. As his eyes began to close and his body grew limp, Pine’s luminescence flared, surrounding her in a ball of light.

  The sight of her radiance incited both men. James’s eyes widened, and he struggled again, thrashing in the captain’s hold as he tried to find purchase and thwart the synadroid’s iron grip. The muscles in his arms corded and strained, and for a moment, Pine thought he was going to triumph, his large hand wrapped around the captain’s already twisted head.

  But James was human, and he needed oxygen to survive. His burst of strength fled as quickly as it had come, and he slumped over, his hand drifting lifelessly from his enemy. The captain grimaced and shoved James away from him, opening his arms for Pine.

  Had he hoped to take James hostage? Or was it simply revenge? Taking the man responsible for his doom down with him?

  Judging by the grin spreading across his face, it was the latter. The captain knew James would never survive in the water, knew without a doubt he would drown. But.

  Pine grinned back, and the captain’s smile faltered as he realized what she’d already figured out.

  James couldn’t live in the ocean. But neither could the captain.

  Cloistered in his ship for years, he’d forgotten it was the human prison that had kept him alive. He’d been lulled into thinking he was of the ocean himself, as his ship had been. And in his desperation, he’d forgotten what he truly was.

  His model had been created for a different purpose; it was never meant to be submerged for any length of time. Pine saw the understanding in his eyes, the sealing of a fate he’d been desperate to avoid.

  He reached for her, his fingers grasping for the life she held in her hands. She could choose to save one of her kind, who’d only done what he could to survive, as had she, who’d done nothing but his duty for a thankless god. Or in seconds he would disappear, down into the dark where he would cease to exist, as though he never had.

  She gazed upward to where James floated, his head bowed, arms spread. His chest no longer moved, and the only bubbles now were the ones captured by his hair. Another life that would simply disappear, a life so different from her own, that lived in a world so far from hers.

  This. This is what it means to be alive. To choose. To choose to love or hate, to fear or leap, to merely exist or to thrive. The truth or the lie.

  She chose truth.

  It seemed to Pine lately that the rain was never going to end. She lowered the car window and reached out to let the cold drops break over her palm and run down her arm.

  “James would’ve been very proud of you today,” Joseph said from his seat next to her. “So, so proud.”

  She wished he’d been there. It would’ve brought him so much peace.

  “Do you think it made a difference?” Today, Pine had stood in front of the Foxwept Provincial Court and given an impassioned plea for the legal recognition of personhood for sentient androids, and all the rights and freedoms that went along with it, including full citizenship.

  She’d told the judges, the audience, the Province, and the country at large her story. She’d told them of Harlequin, of Ash, and the captain, from their births to their deaths.

  She’d spoken of Todd and Tabby, Sebastian and Paloma.

  She’d told them of James and Joseph. Even The Fire-eater, The Blue Fairy, The Owl, and The Crow got a mention, albeit a cryptic one.

  She talked about fear and fate, about exploitation and suffering, neglect and indifference, kindness and compassion.

  About humans and synadroids.

  About love.

  The results had been mixed. Some were outraged she’d been given a platform, disgusted by the indulgence and its implications. Others without a personal stake simply shrugged and turned away. Some who felt a spotlight shine on them fought back, arguing about what it meant to be genuinely alive and the privilege that came with that, the entitlement which needed to be carefully bestowed and reserved for those truly living.

  Others wept, remembering a not-so-distant past, other struggles whose lessons had been forgotten. More were moved, their eyes opened to a truth they’d felt in their hearts but had been unable to articulate in a culture where change
was erratic and priorities unpredictable.

  And many hearts swelled to bursting, poised on the cusp of finally being recognized, of having a voice.

  Joseph patted her shoulder. “You know, Pine, I think so. The fact that you’re currently the heroine of a cause célèbre certainly helped.”

  It was true. If it hadn’t been for Blue’s quick thinking—and the fact that she was a practiced opportunist—Pine never would’ve had had a stage at all, and synadroids would still be in the shadows. Though the prison had countermeasures to avoid detection, including tracker-blockers, the camera in Pine and James’s life-pod had managed to capture the oncoming shark, its whirling, opening maw clearly human-designed, before it swallowed them whole.

  Blue had secured those images, and disseminated them immediately to the media, who’d come out in droves to investigate. When the sub began to ascend, it had emitted a distress signal, alerting both the military and the government to its sudden reappearance. Blue, intercepting the call, was able to pin down the location, only eighteen miles from where James and Pine had disappeared.

  In the eight minutes it took for the sub to rise, all the players had swarmed. There could be no denial, no cover up. Then, with the cameras rolling, Pine had dived into the water to try to save the life of the human man she loved from the clutches of one of her own kind. The public drank it up.

  The military and the government, not so much. But they had little choice other than to make a deal. In return for Pine, Joseph, and the others agreeing to pretend they were merely part of a potential tourism project that had had a mishap, they were compensated as they chose.

  Pine had chosen to speak.

  Joseph put his hand over hers. “I’m proud of you, Pine. I know that wasn’t easy.”

  And it hadn’t been. To lay the most painful, devastating moments of one’s life bare and intertwine them with the most intimate and hopeful, all for public consumption, had taken its toll. As grateful as she was for the opportunity, she was glad it was over—for now, at least—and wanted nothing more than to be home.

  A few minutes later, she was. She and Joseph stood together in the front yard, gazing up at the house where their life together had begun, and where it would continue.

  My life.

  “Are you ready to go in?” Joseph asked gently. He knew how overwhelming being in the house could be for Pine these days. But he also knew it was where she was happiest, that there was no place she’d rather be.

  “Yes.” They walked up the path hand-in-hand, and Pine recalled how James had once carried her over the threshold. She composed herself on the doorstep. You can do this.

  The door swung open to reveal a hive of activity. Humans and synadroids bustled back and forth, relaying information, taking notes.

  “She’s here!” someone shouted, and the commotion turned into cheers as they welcomed her home. A confetti popper was unleashed, and for a moment Pine was blinded by a shower of tiny fish and blue glitter. I’m here.

  James pushed through the crowd, scooping Pine up and swinging her around. “You were incredible! You should’ve seen the reactions of the crowd. Love it or hate it, everyone’s talking about synadroid personhood and what it will mean. We can barely handle the influx of support.”

  Pine buried her face in his neck, pressing her face to the warmth of his skin and focusing on the secure strength of his arms around her. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

  “We’ll kick everyone out in a few minutes,” he whispered, “but let them celebrate a bit first.” He stood her back on her feet. “I wish I could’ve been there today.” To Pine’s disappointment, she’d only been allowed to bring one guest with her. “But I know how important it was to Joseph to be there with you.”

  “It was. Besides, what you’re doing here is just as, if not more, important.” Since the plight of sentient androids had been made so glaringly public, James had undertaken the task of documenting all the sentient androids in Foxwept and gathering support from humans interested in their cause.

  In only a few weeks, the project had grown well beyond what they’d ever hoped for, and James had drafted in help. Blue, The Owl, and The Crow had gotten on board, their particular skills proving invaluable. Any synadroid who wanted to was welcomed—their owners, wary of choosing the wrong side, didn’t dare deny them. Moving through the lively crowd, Pine waved at a newly-appointed Harlequin. It turned out The Fire-eater had played a role since the beginning, procuring rare components then passing them for sale to others like Joseph, the funds going into an account for this particular cause.

  But despite all the support and their growing momentum, it was bittersweet. Few of the synadroids’ stories were happy ones, and Pine’s joy at their progress was tempered by the constant ache of empathy and the fear of what would happen if they failed.

  But they were close, so close.

  Joseph stood by himself amidst the hubbub, gazing at Mara’s smiling portrait.

  Pine leaned her head on his shoulder. “I wish I’d gotten to meet her.” What would it be like to have a mother?

  “Me too,” Joseph said. “I also wish she’d been able to see today. She would be so happy—it’s a time we thought would never come. Of course, then she would’ve made me wait until it was legal for me to marry her.”

  The mark by her hairline. His desire for an android daughter. His unconditional love.

  “What happened to her?”

  “She was one of my first successes. This was before your kind was produced on a large scale. She was one of a kind, experimental, and eventually, her technology was no longer compatible with life.” He stroked Mara’s cheek as she peered up from her work. “I could’ve tried to move her brain into a newer body, but she was ready to go. She saw it as a natural ending, as the true experience of her life. Who was I to argue?”

  “I didn’t know,” James said from behind them.

  “No one did.” Joseph didn’t turn. “It was safer for us that way. We could live our lives within these four walls as we wanted. As she wanted.” He kissed Pine on the forehead. “She would’ve loved you.”

  James left them, and a few minutes later, began ushering everyone out of the house with the assurance they would pick things up first thing tomorrow morning. Once everyone had left, Joseph too made his excuses and retired to his room.

  “Should we go upstairs?” James asked. He looked tired, dark circles smudged under his eyes.

  They walked up the stairs together, past Joseph’s room where the faint sounds of Mara’s cheerful voice and Joseph’s answering chuckle played and replayed. It was Joseph’s ritual—and a happy one. Joyful sounds, not ones of sorrow, and Pine’s heart was easy.

  In the bedroom, they stood together at the window, looking out over the lights of Portfade. Tonight, and for every night of her life, Pine wanted nothing more than this. During the day, she and James would fight beside each other for her life and the lives of others, but now, these moments, were for them.

  Pine couldn’t see the ocean, but she knew it was there, that it always would be. Now the moon would be breaking up on the surface of the quiet water, while below, life flourished. She thought of the years she’d spent down there. Living, but not alive. She hadn’t even known what it meant.

  Turning away, she put her hand on James’s chest, over his heart, feeling his life beating beneath her fingers. Beating for her.

  Their love, alive at last.

  Thank you so much for reading Pine, Alive. I was inspired to write it after reading Pinocchio to my son one night, and I hope you enjoyed my version as much as he does the original one!

  If you did enjoy it, please consider to taking the time to leave an honest review. Even a single line would be amazing! Reviews let us authors know what we’re doing right—and wrong—and help readers find new authors to love. If you’d like to review Pine, Alive, please do so here:

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  For Clara, life is nothing but dreams.

  Orphaned at fifteen, she inherited part of a virtual reality empire. Ten years later, everything she could ever have dreamed of is within her grasp—except the one thing she actually wants.

  Nathanael’s life has been entwined with Clara’s since they were born. To prove himself worthy, he leaves the sanctuary of their tower, hoping to become the man Clara deserves.

  But when a specter from Nate’s past returns to seek revenge by stealing his future, Clara must do everything in her power to save the man she adores from a living nightmare and make all of their dreams come true.

  Clara, Dreaming is the second standalone in the Foxwept Array series and is a sweet, science fiction romance fairy tale retelling of The Sandman and Ole Lukøje.

  HEA guaranteed.

  Coming May 22, 2019 to Amazon and Kindle Unlimited!

  As always, I would like to express my love and gratitude to my family and friends. Thank you for making my life its own kind of fairy tale.

  Thank you also to my beta, Anna Adler, for helping me in my eleventh hour—you’re the best.

  And finally, my editor Danielle Fine, for going above and beyond. I’m so grateful for you!

  A.W. Cross is a made of 100% starstuff and lives in the wilds of Canada with her beloved family and a deep nostalgia for the 80s.