Once Upon a Star

by Anthea Sharp

“I don’t remember ever reading about a world with a moon such as that,” she remarked, gazing up at the sky. “What is it called?”

  “I cannot say,” the mech replied, since it had been programmed not to reveal anything of this world to its mistress. It was possible that she hadn’t studied much about other worlds, and therefore wouldn’t recognize the name “Syrinara” and identify it as a Stacian colony, but Marek had thought it better not to take the risk.

  Now a frown creased her smooth brow for just the barest second. “Cannot, or will not?”

  “I do not understand the question.”

  “It seems simple enough to me. Either you can’t reply because you honestly don’t know the answer, or you won’t because someone told you not to.”

  The mech was silent. Even from this distance, Marek thought he could hear its circuits sizzling as it attempted to deliver a reply that would conform to the programming it had been given and yet still satisfy the woman who was supposed to be its mistress.

  “I cannot say.”

  Alexa’s hands went to her slender hips. Today she wore a fitted tunic in pale green spider-silk with copper embroidery, and the expensive fabric glinted in the sun as she moved. “You have a pretty limited vocabulary for an advanced mech, don’t you?”

  Even though the mech was merely a machine and therefore didn’t require anyone’s pity, Marek couldn’t help but feel sorry for the thing. It stood there, unmoving, and repeated, “I cannot say.”

  “Oh, of all the — ” Alexa shook her head. “Is it really so unreasonable to ask the name of the world that’s my new home?”

  “I cannot say.”

  The damnable thing seemed well and truly stuck. Marek brought up the app on his handheld that would enable him to override the mech’s programming and allow him to take over…but it didn’t seem to be working. He typed in his passcode again, along with the command to let him take control of the mech’s voice unit, and still the machine stood there rooted to the ground, repeating, “I cannot say. I cannot say,” over and over again while Alexa looked at it in consternation and increasing worry.

  “It’s all right,” she broke in. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  Of course, it ignored her. Swearing under his breath, Marek entered the panic code that was supposed to send the mech back to its dock in the house so it might reboot and recharge, but even that gambit didn’t seem to work.

  As Marek watched the feed from the security cameras, the mechanoid suddenly turned away from Alexa and began to march in the exact opposite direction from where it had been instructed to go, heading deeper into the gardens rather than returning to the house. A puzzled-looking Alexa kept pace with it, although from time to time, she sent surreptitious little glances over her shoulder, as if wondering why someone hadn’t appeared to corral the wayward machine.

  Good question. Marek had other mechanoids on the premises, to cook the food and clean the house and make sure the grounds were kept neat and tidy, but there were no other living beings here. It was only him and Alexa.

  And he couldn’t exactly expect her to overpower the mech and force it back to home base.

  Well, he’d wanted to put off their meeting for a bit longer, but it seemed as though the universe had forced his hand.

  He shoved his handheld into the pocket of his Eridani-made trousers, then hurried out of his office and into the gardens, moving as fast as his long legs would allow. As far as he’d been able to tell, the mech was headed toward the pond Alexa had visited just the day before. Why, Marek had no idea, except that it was an obvious landmark and therefore something that apparently had floated up to prominence in the machine’s short-circuiting brain.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite fast enough. Even as he burst through the grove of ellir trees that grew on the far side of the pond, he saw the mech walk into the water, catch its foot on something along the bottom, and fall flat on its face, disappearing beneath the surface.

  A sound of dismay escaped his throat. As soon as the curse left his lips, he looked up from the rippling water of the pond to see Alexa staring at him, her expression both shocked and surprised…a surprise that suddenly gave way to comprehension.

  “Oh,” she said at last. “Now I see.”

  When the tall figure emerged from the tree and cursed — at least, she assumed the word he’d spoken was a curse, although she’d never heard it before — Alexa couldn’t keep herself from staring. While she’d viewed vids of Stacians, she’d never seen one in person. This particular specimen was tall and formidable, like all his race, even though he wore a civilized outfit in the Eridani style, black with a high collar and narrowly cut trousers. His hair was black, his skin golden, his eyes a blazing copper hue. And although he had the same bony ridges along his brow and cheekbones that all his race seemed to share, she couldn’t help thinking that he was still handsome, with that hawkish nose and strong chin and a fringe of black lashes around those extraordinary eyes.

  And as she stared at him, she realized she must be gazing at the man who was her husband. Now she understood why he’d hidden himself, why the mech had short-circuited rather than tell her where she really was.

  A Stacian should not have married a human. The two races were not supposed to have any contact, except through diplomatic channels, and yet Alexa knew those restrictions didn’t apply to a man like her biological father, especially if they lay in the way of something he wanted.

  “Oh,” she said softly. “Now I see.”

  The alien took a few steps toward her, following the bank of the pond. She held her ground, knowing that whatever he intended, it certainly couldn’t involve any harm to her. If he’d wanted, he could have hurt her at any point during the time she’d spent in his house. And actually, even though she’d heard the standard Consortium propaganda about the Stacians’ bloodthirstiness, she didn’t see any of that savagery in the way he watched her as he paused an arm’s length away.

  “See what?” he asked.

  His Galactic Standard was very good, with hardly a trace of an accent. Alexa wondered where he’d learned it, then supposed it really didn’t matter so much. “You’re my husband, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” he replied without blinking.

  “And you spoke to me through the mech because you didn’t want to frighten me.”

  “Yes,” he said again, although his tone was softer this time. “Are you?”

  “Frightened?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not really.” If anything, she found herself oddly excited by his presence. He was so large and exotic, so different from any other man she’d ever met or seen.

  Not that her experience was terribly wide, but still.

  “That’s good,” he said. “My name is Marek sen Krendil.”

  “Does that mean I’m now Alexa sen Krendil?”

  “If you wish,” Marek responded. “Our naming conventions aren’t the same as yours. ‘sen Krendil’ simply means ‘son of Krendil.’”

  “Oh.” She supposed it would sound odd for her to use that as a surname, since she certainly wasn’t this Krendil’s son. “Well, I suppose we can figure it out later.” Although she didn’t want to tear her gaze away from those beautiful, gleaming eyes, she couldn’t help glancing over at the pond. “What are we going to do about the mech?”

  “I will have to see if it can be salvaged. If you will excuse me.”

  The Stacian — her husband, Alexa reminded herself with an odd little thrill — strode into the water, apparently unconcerned by what a soaking might do to his boots or trousers. After bending down, he hauled the hapless mechanoid up from the bottom of the pond and carried it over to the grassy bank, then set it down. He accomplished this feat without any obvious signs of exertion, even though she knew the mech must weigh several hundred pounds. How strong was this alien husband of hers?

  “It appears to be nonfunctional,” Marek said, long, golden-skinned fingers fiddling with something at the back of the machine’s neck — pr
obably a reset or something similar.

  Alexa experienced a stab of dismay at his statement. Although she knew now that her husband had been speaking through the machine, she’d still developed an odd affection for the poor mech. “Can it be fixed?”

  “Probably. I will make contact with the company that built it and see if they can have it repaired.”

  Most likely an Eridani company, although the device itself appeared to be Gaian. The Eridanis were on friendly terms with the Stacians, and they acted as middlemen in transactions where Gaians and Stacians couldn’t have direct contact.

  “Good,” she murmured.

  Marek left the mech lying on the grass and came over to her, although she noticed how he stood far enough away that his soaked garments wouldn’t drip all over her. “You care what happens to this machine?”

  All Alexa could do was shrug, since she wasn’t sure she could adequately articulate what she was currently feeling. “It was a companion to me, even if only for a day,” she said. “I certainly don’t want it to suffer any permanent harm because I pressed it too hard for information it couldn’t give.”

  A nod, and then Marek smiled down at her — a flashing smile with white teeth, very human in a face that really wasn’t. Or at least, not quite human. Even so, a certain warmth seemed to fill her, made her want to see many more of those smiles.

  “We should go back to the house,” she went on, doing her best to ignore how flustered she felt. “You need to get out of those wet clothes.” Oh, maybe that hadn’t been the best thing to suggest, because the words were hardly out of her mouth before she began to wonder what he might look like without those clothes on. If he was this magnificent in a staid Eridani suit….

  If he noticed anything of her discomfiture, Marek chose to ignore it. “You’re right,” he said. “And then I can call the mechanoid distributor to come take it away for repairs. Shall we?”

  He didn’t offer her his arm, but maybe that wasn’t a Stacian custom…or maybe he simply didn’t want to drip all over the embroidered silk of her sleeve. Either way, they headed back to the house in silence, Alexa’s thoughts churning the entire time.

  She had met her husband, and he was so much more than she could have imagined or hoped for.

  But did he feel the same way about her?

  It surprised Marek how relaxed Alexa seemed to be around him. At the same time, he was intensely relieved, because it appeared this new marriage of his wouldn’t be as difficult as he’d thought. They returned to the house, and he went to his room to change and to make arrangements to have the damaged mechanoid picked up and sent to the factory for repairs.

  Afterward, he went to the music room, since he’d heard her in there when he came downstairs. She was playing something soft and dreamy. What the tune was, he couldn’t say; he’d never made a study of Gaian music. As soon as he entered the room, though, Alexa paused, her hands resting on the keyboard. The look she gave him was very direct.

  “Why?” she asked.

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. Of course, she had questions. A few steps further into the room, and then he was beside her, standing close. She didn’t flinch, or try to move away. In fact, her lips parted slightly as she gazed up at him.

  If that wasn’t the mouth of a woman who wanted to be kissed, then he knew even less about the subject than he thought.

  But he restrained himself, saying, “I had something your father wanted. We made a deal.”

  Her expression didn’t change, except that the corners of her delectable mouth turned up slightly. “I always knew I would be part of a bargain one day. I just never expected that bargain to be made with a Stacian. Your people aren’t like the Eridanis — you don’t make a habit of taking human lovers or spouses. So…why?”

  Marek didn’t want to say it was because he had pitied her, or thought she needed protection. Perhaps such a motivation was part of why he’d insisted that she be part of the bargain he’d made with her father, but to say such a thing out loud would surely wound her pride. “You are a very beautiful woman, Alexa. Surely that should be explanation enough.”

  Now she actually chuckled. “I might be pretty, but I know I’m not millions of units’ worth of pretty. And I know that’s what had to be involved in your deal, because Henry Bischoff doesn’t play at anything less.”

  Very well, then. “I wanted to take you away,” Marek said simply.

  “Away from what?” Her mouth still smiled, but her clear green eyes now looked very serious.

  “Away from people who did not see your value.”

  “You wanted to be my knight in shining armor, then.”

  Marek had always believed himself to be quite proficient in Galactic Standard, but the idiom she had just used was unfamiliar to him. “I don’t understand.”

  “You wanted to rescue me. I suppose I should be flattered, especially since Stacians aren’t exactly known for their altruistic impulses.”

  Her tone was light, almost casual, and so he was not quite sure how to respond to such a comment. “I did not mean to upset you,” he said carefully. He chose to ignore the veiled insult, mostly because he guessed she had not meant to wound him. Their two races had been at odds for decades, so it would have been more surprising if she’d had a favorable impression of his people.

  “I’m not upset.” And truly, she didn’t look distressed, but since she’d had a lifetime of practice at cultivating a serene demeanor, Marek wasn’t sure whether he could trust that her expression truly represented what she was feeling. Now she put her hand on his arm, fingers slender but strong. “I actually appreciate this whole Cyrano de Bergerac thing you were attempting. It was…cute.”

  Cute? He had no idea how he should feel about that remark. Cute was for cubs and young children, not grown men such as himself.

  And he was also not sure how he should react to the way she’d reached out to touch him. The mere pressure of her fingers against his arm was enough to send his blood racing, to make him want…well, to want her.

  Badly.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, his voice sounding tight even to himself.

  “Actually,” she went on, “you don’t know what a relief you are to me. I always expected my father to marry me off to someone horrible. But instead of the frog I was expecting, I got a prince instead.”

  Marek wasn’t sure exactly what a frog was. Some sort of Gaian creature, and probably not a very attractive one, judging by the context of her remark. “Stacians don’t have princes,” he pointed out.

  “Gaians don’t, either,” Alexa said. “Not anymore. But that’s all right. You can still be a prince to me…can’t you, Marek?”

  Her lips had parted again. His body surged with need. There was only one thing he could do.

  He bent and touched his mouth to hers.

  Handsome as he was, Alexa hadn’t actually expected fireworks. No one really reacted that way to a kiss, not in real life.

  Except….

  Heat swept through her body as their lips met, and need washed over her, so strong that she had to stop herself from grasping the pressure tabs that held his suit coat closed and ripping it open right then and there. He smelled wonderful, of some sort of spicy scent that wasn’t cloves and wasn’t sandalwood but was just as warm and inviting. In that moment, she didn’t think about how he was Stacian, or that he’d all but bought her from her father. No, she could only lose herself in the way he felt, the way he tasted, and realize that maybe the vids and the books hadn’t been exaggerating after all.

  She bumped into the keyboard, and the middle-D key made a little burping noise. Marek broke the kiss there, but he smiled down at her and didn’t seem too upset by the interruption.

  “You didn’t mind that, did you?”

  “No,” she replied, her voice breathy and light, not sounding much like her usual contralto. “No, I didn’t mind. Are all Stacians such good kissers?”

  “I have no idea. But I am glad you enjoyed it.” />
  “Enjoyed” was such a weak word to describe the sensations that had overtaken her body. The kiss had felt so delightfully illicit, and yet, how could it be? They were husband and wife after all. True, puritanical notions about premarital sex had fallen by the wayside centuries ago, but still….

  “It was wonderful,” Alexa said. “Probably better than all the kisses in all the fairy tales combined.”

  “‘Fairy tales’?” Marek echoed, looking puzzled.

  “Old stories,” she said. “Usually with some kind of magic in them. In the story with the frog, the princess kisses it, and the frog turns into a handsome prince. Except I suppose you were already the handsome prince.”

  He smiled and shook his head, then bent to kiss her again, more deeply this time, his tongue touching hers as her body flared with desire again. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to sleep alone tonight, and that was just fine with her.

  When the kiss ended, Marek pulled away slightly and gazed down at her, his expression thoughtful. “And what happens at the end of these stories?”

  “Oh,” Alexa said, realizing that somehow, against all odds, her story was going to end the same way. She twined her fingers in his and smiled.

  “They live happily ever after, of course.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  “The Cyrano Solution” is loosely based on “The Princess and the Frog,” a Brothers Grimm fairy tale. In placing the bones of the story in my Gaian Consortium universe, I decided to make the heroine the daughter of a rich oligarch, since princesses are in short supply in that far-future world. However, in her upbringing she's suffered many of the same restrictions a princess might, and so she still has a somewhat innocent quality despite being raised in such a futuristic setting. The frog prince is no frog at all, but an alien whose race has been at war with the Gaians for generations, and the original loyal servant is now a robot — or “mech,” as they’re called in this world. And while there is no magical curse that needs to be broken, in this version the hero and heroine still need to come to an understanding of what attracts them to one another…even when they come from different races.