Wishing Stars Ch. 07

Although the tower was in the old section of the citadel, it proved to have some modern advances.

A gearman approached the curved stone wall and pressed a small digital key to the stone. With a sharp click, the stone retracted into itself, revealing a doorway. Thalia approached and looked into the small bathroom in surprise.

The room was obviously newer than most of the tower. The walls, floor and ceiling were the same bright sterile white that much of the main citadel had been. Inside there was nothing but a silver sink, toilet, shower stall and one small mirror hanging on the wall. The small room seemed to be an afterthought. It seemed too clinical and cold to belong in the tower. As much as she did not want to like anything Xieol gave her— especially her prison— Thalia had to admit that she preferred the stone and wood of the tower to the smooth white walls of the rest of the citadel.

As soon as Thalia stepped into the bathroom, the door slid closed behind her. She glanced back at it and noticed that on this side, the door was the same smooth white as the rest of the room. Thalia felt like she had stepped back onto a spaceship. It was not a welcome feeling.

Thalia stepped over to the sink and glanced into the mirror. More bruises were rising across her body. Angry, she turned the water on as hot as it would go and scrubbed at her skin. She scratched at her cheeks, trying to feel anything but the ghost of Xieol's lips and tentacles. The water in the sink slowly turned red.

Thalia ripped her hands away from her face and was shocked to see blood coating her fingernails. She glanced up briefly and saw the damage she had done to her face. Her lip twitched up slightly as she surveyed the harm she had done.

Her fingernails had gouged into her cheeks. Drops of blood slid down from a few of the deeper wounds. With a wet hand, Thalia smeared the blood across her cheeks. The rising bruises were obscured almost completely. Thalia was surprised when her teeth flashed white in the mirror. She wiped her bloody hands on the white fabric of her nightgown and admired how the thick liquid stained it.

After scrubbing her hands clean, she cupped them under the tap and brought the cool water to her mouth. She shuddered as she swished the liquid around, remembering the foul taste of his mouth. The way his tongue had moved against hers, slithering like a serpent. Thalia spat into the sink as she gagged on the memory.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror and took a few calming breaths, forcing down a sudden wave of nausea. Digging at herself was not going to help. Neither was crying or throwing up. Not that there was much in her stomach anyway. If she was going to have to face him again, she needed to get a grip.

Thalia stripped off her nightgown and left it balled up on the floor. She turned on the water in the shower stall and stepped into the frigid spray without giving it time to warm. She shuddered and bit her lip against the cold, but forced herself to endure it. The cold had a numbing effect. It felt almost good against her bruised body, although it stung the new scratches on her face. She felt detached as she watched the water flow down her legs and circle the drain. It was tinted red.

Once the water had run clear again, and was starting to warm, Thalia shut it off. She glanced back out into the bathroom, unsure. There were no cabinets or other obvious place towels could be stored. She stood in the shower stall a second longer, considering her options. Her nightgown was still balled up on the floor, but suddenly the bloodied garment seemed very unappealing.

A faint hum sounded. Suddenly small puffs of warm air came from all sides of the shower stall, sending gooseflesh racing down her arms. She crossed her arms across her chest self-consciously, and eyed the walls of the shower. There was no obvious place that the air was coming from. It seemed to simply appear out of the shower walls. Some high-tech convenience for the princess. Thalia snorted.

As soon as she was dry, Thalia left the stall and padded over to where the entrance to the bathroom should have been. To her it looked like just another expanse of solid white wall. Experimentally, she tapped at it. To her shock, the wall slid into itself with a snap and she was looking out into the bedroom again. A door had never operated for her before.

On the Quarantine Ship, the doors had opened and closed either of their own accord or at the gearmen's behest. Thalia had never thought to try any of the doors in the citadel. A small feeling of power flitted through her. This was a small thing, but it was something that she had control over. There wasn't much she had command of.

Two gearmen, Assistants the Prince had called them, were waiting for her in the bedroom. The body of the electrocuted gearman was gone without a trace. One of the mechanical assistants stepped forward and began wrapping her in another complicated white garment. The other looked at her for a second, then approached and began treating the scratches on her face with a stinky balm. Apparently, they had been aware of her activities in the bathroom. Yet, they had not intervened. Interesting.

"How did you know I was injured?" She asked, curious, as the gearman finished dressing her and stepped back. The other gearman—assistant—began placing small bandages over the deeper gouges on her cheeks.

"We monitor you, Your Highness." The assistant answered as he moved on from her face and started massaging the same cream into some of her darker bruises. Thalia winced.

"You watch me in case I, what, try to escape?" She smiled sadly, "Even I know that isn't an option."

"Others have tried," The gearman responded cheerily, "But, no, we monitor you in order to learn from your behaviors. This way we can be better prepared to assist you in the future. Anticipate your wants and your needs, Your Highness."

"Speaking of which," The other gearman had returned. He grasped her hand and held her palm up towards the light, examining it. Thalia knew he was looking at the small red half-circles her fingernails had left in her palms. "We should consider taking preventive measures here."

Both gearmen had ahold of one of her hands now. They turned them about thoughtfully as they spoke.

"The fingernails may be removed to prevent further injury," The first mused, "Or perhaps sanded back so as not to pose a threat?"

"Yes," The other gearman agreed, "Or the tips of the fingers could be wrapped, and padded, to prevent injury. Removal may be the best option, however. If I may, Your Highness?" Without waiting for a response, he reached out and felt along one of the bandaged gouges on Thalia's cheek.

"No!" Thalia snatched her hands back and crossed her arms. She tucked her hands in her armpits, hiding them from view. She backed away from the gearmen. They were talking about mutilating her hands! She eyed the distance between her and the door. Too far, she decided. They would catch her if she tried to run. Then what? She did not even know if the bedroom door would open for her. Knowing her new husband, it most likely wouldn't.

"Your heartrate has increased, Your Highness." A gearman noted. His fellow agreed. "You are afraid. We would not cause you pain. We seek to prevent further injury to your body. If you habitually touch your face and palms with such force, removal of your fingernails will allow you to do so without injury."

She stared at them blankly. They thought it was accidental. They honestly thought she was that stupid. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe this was something she could use.

"I'm afraid..." She agreed slowly, and glanced around quickly. Her eyes caught on the window. "When Xieol" She spat his name like acid, "When he threw one of you out the window— there were...sparks. Electricity? Is it going to hurt me?" She tried her best to look wide-eyed and afraid when she glanced back at them.

"The electronic netting prevents both entrance and egress to the citadel by way of the window," One of them responded. "It will not harm you so long as you remain within the tower."

"But..." Thalia's brain whirled. She couldn't just ask them how to escape. Could she? "What if I fell out... accidently?"

"The odds are quite low," The Assistant responded, "However..." The two exchanged glances.

"Given Your Highness's capacity for sustaining injury to her person, perhaps it would be best to mitigate the risk." She must have looked quite confused, for he elaborated, "By lessening either the chances of Your Highness encountering the netting, or by attempting to lessen the impact of the netting on Your Highness's well-being if you were to come into contact."

"The most effective method would be to seal the window, thus preventing Her Highness from ever encountering the netting."

"No!" Thalia gasped once their meaning sunk in. "No, no, no! Don't close it! Please!"

"Your heart rate has accelerated again," The first Assistant noted. "It appears the thought of an enclosed space is alarming to Your Highness."

"Claustrophobia," His counterpart added, seeming pleased, "This is quite ordinary for humans. The window was put into place to alleviate this particular condition. The human mind is able to feel less contained so long as the eyes can see the outside of the room. A strange phenomenon, as the window does not in fact make the human less captive, only more accepting of it."

"More accepting," Thalia repeated, face grim. "What about making the netting less dangerous...or removing it?"

"Removal is not an option," They spoke in a happy unison, "It is a safety precaution, after all. However, the electrical current might be decreased slightly. This would require authorization."

"Xieol," Thalia clenched her teeth and stared at the wall. He would see the beginnings of an escape plan in her request immediately. The Prince would be angry, and he would take it out on Abigail. She could not do anything to alert him to any possible plans. The risk was too great.

Thalia turned back to the assistants with a sigh.

"So, what am I supposed to do? Just stay here until His High and Mightiness feels like coming back?" Although the cream on her face had eased the bruising, and her scratches no longer stung, Thalia's body still felt battered. A headache throbbed behind her eyes. She did not know if she could bare facing him again. After a quick glance around the small, octagonal room, she understood how quickly claustrophobia might set in without that window.

Anxiety began to wrap its fingers around her lungs, but she bit her lip and pushed it back. She did not want to be a princess, but it seemed she had no choice in the matter. So a princess she would be.

"I wish to leave," She said the words as calmly as she could. Before the assistants could respond, she walked toward the wooden door that led to the stairs with her back straight and her head held high. One step, and then another. Before she knew it, she reached her hand out to the strange woodgrain of the door. Her nerves buzzed. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she tried to anticipate the assistants' movements behind her. She waited to feel their hands on her arms, prepared to fight back.

When the room remained silent and still, she reached out and placed her bandaged palm on the handle. After a second of hesitation, she pressed the handle down.

It did not open.

A key pad above the handle blinked red. Angry, Thalia jammed her fingers into a random set of keys. More red blinking. Furious, she pressed the flat of her palm against the keys hard and held them compressed as alarmed beeping noises began issuing from behind the door. Small red warning lights began to blink throughout the room.

Thalia felt a cold hand close over her elbow, but jerked herself away.

"No!" She told the assistant as she ripped her hand from the keypad and placed her shoulder against the door. "I am the Princess and I. Am. Leaving."

Shove as she might, the door did not budge. Finally, she pushed herself back from the door with a huff. Glaring at the assistants, she pointed towards the door and demanded that they open it.

"We were instructed that your Highness stay in the tower." They responded, pleasant as ever.

"And I am instructing you to open that door now!" She demanded, voice deathly earnest. "Ordering you, commanding you, whatever!"

She bit her lip and stared them down. They looked right back at her, unmoving.

"Please," she whispered after a moment of silence, "assist me."

"We cannot disobey a direct order, Your Highness," They responded happily, "How may we assist you within the walls of the tower?"

Suddenly the rage, the hope and even the pain of her wounds disappeared. Thalia felt herself deflate like a balloon. With her gaze on the floor, she crossed the room and lowered herself onto the window seat. She drew her feet up and placed her chin on her knees.

"How may I assist you, Your Highness?" An assistant asked pleasantly as he crossed the room to stand at attention before her. His counterpart remained by the door.

"I don't know," She responded blankly, face buried in the white material bunching over her knees. "I'm scared, and I'm trapped. And I'm alone."

Life on the quarantine ship had not been bliss, but it had never been lonely. Thalia was suddenly homesick for the slick white walls of the cafeteria, always echoing with laughter. For the easy routine she followed each day, as much as she despised it at the time. She suddenly missed not knowing exactly what her future was. She missed wondering what her greater purpose was. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that she would be locked away to breed a new generation of monsters. Now that she knew her purpose, it sickened her. The future had been poisoned, corrupted. It was no longer a place she could escape to in her mind. Xieol had taken that from her.

"I want Abigail," She muttered, without thinking.

"Lady Abigail has been sent for," The assistant responded immediately, causing Thalia to start.

"When? Already? How..?" She looked at the assistant in wonder. She expected him to produce a comm-radio or to send the other assistant to take a message, but instead he simply stood there and stared back at her. Then the shock of her request being granted hit her. "T-thank you."

"It is unnecessary to thank me, Your Highness," He responded happily, "We are entrusted to ensure your health and happiness within the parameters set by His Highness the Prince."

So the Assistants were allowed to grant her requests, so long as they did not contradict Xieol's direct commands. Interesting. It suddenly occurred to her that the assistants had become much more helpful once her status changed. Her new rank undoubtedly allowed her access to requests that would have been previously denied. Besides being more helpful, her current assistants seemed almost more human. It was as if their IQ had been given a boost.

"Are you very different from the... Assistants on the Quarantine Ship?" She asked, lying her cheek on her knees so that she could look up into his face. Now that she was paying attention, she could pick out subtle differences between the palace Assistants and those on the Quarantine Ship.

The clear casing that made up the Assistant's skin seemed slightly more fluid, and less clunky, than those she was familiar with. It seemed to almost move with the motion of the machine's limbs like true skin, as opposed to being a hard shell. The metal rods and gears that made up the skeleton and inner workings of the Assistant were a shining gold. They seemed bright and well-oiled. Unless she was specifically listening for it, Thalia did not notice any clicking or whirring coming from the Assistant. He could almost be a true living being.

"Palace Assistant Androids are all of the latest model," The Assistant explained. Thalia could almost swear that he was bragging, "Our mechanisms are of the highest quality available. No expense is spared in either our manufacturing or our maintenance. We are manufactured with our purpose in mind. The Assistant Androids that educate and care for potential vessels are made of lesser quality materials and less effort goes into their programming. Regardless, we are all synched to the same Mind."

"You will find," The Assistant near the door spoke suddenly, "that what we are depends greatly upon our purpose, and that our purpose depends greatly upon what we are."

With that, he opened the door.