The Prince and the Programmer Read online

  The Prince and the Programmer

  by

  Cassandra Pierce

  Published by Cassandra Pierce at Kindle Direct Publishing

  Copyright 2019 Cassandra Pierce

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

  The Prince and the Programmer

  Chapter 1

  “Jasno Erys.” Prince Darex tilted to read the identification card holographically attached to the chest of Jasno’s green uniform jumpsuit. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

  He said it with a sort of sneer in his voice. Jasno lifted his toolbox and tried to keep his expression neutral and his tone respectful. Though he was used to being challenged and questioned by port guests irritated by defective equipment, blatant disrespect still tested his patience.

  “I’ve been an employee of the port for ten years, your Highness,” he replied, forcing himself not to sigh in exasperation. “I assure you I am fully trained to diagnose and resolve whatever problem your foodsynth panel is experiencing.”

  “Well, I suppose my servants wouldn’t have let you in unless your credentials passed muster,” Darex conceded. “Not that I’m always impressed with their judgment, mind you. More than once I’ve wondered if I might not be better off attending to my own needs. On the other hand, mechanical repairs have always bored me. I’m happy to leave such matters in your capable hands.”

  Gritting his teeth, Jasno reverted to the standard formula he’d been trained to use when faced with the usual complaints and customer sarcasm. “Yes, your Highness. I apologize for any inconvenience. With your permission, I’d like to take a look at your device now.”

  “Of course, of course. Over here.” This time Darex seemed to become irritated. Jasno supposed he wanted more time to complain, like so many of his clients did. Getting out their frustration and boredom sometimes seemed as important to them as getting the repairs done.

  Jasno followed him through the suite to the dining area. As they walked, he glanced around at the various belongings Darex had strewn around the room. Though Jasno had no idea how long he planned to stay, Darex had positioned a few holographic pictures on the suite’s walls, he supposed to give it a more homelike atmosphere. One of the pictures in particular caught his attention as he passed. In it, Darex stood beside another strikingly handsome young man. His sandy hair and light blue eyes formed a strong contrast with Darex’s dark curly locks and mud-brown eyes, features he shared with Jasno himself. To judge from the background in the hologram, the two were at some sort of school or military institute.

  “I suppose you recognize Prince Tergus,” Darex said, noticing Jasno’s interest. “That was taken at Qazar Academy, when both of us were younger and only slightly less foolish than we are today.”

  “Yes, your Highness. I do recognize him.” Tergus, the popular young heir to the throne of the colonized planet Despina, often appeared in broadcasts or newsfiles of one kind or another. It figured the two princes had attended Qazar together. Most young members of the ruling class, and virtually all the royals, went there at some point in their youth.

  “Handsome devil, isn’t he?” Darex asked, taking a sort of pride in Tergus’s looks. That puzzled Jasno, unless Darex was simply gloating at attracting such a prominent friend.

  “Yes, your Highness,” Jasno agreed. About that, at least, he didn’t have to fib. Tergus was beautiful in the way many aristocrats were before too many cycles of dissipated living took its inevitable toll on their bodies.

  “Too bad he doesn’t have a sweet disposition to match his sweet appearance.” Darex sighed a bit wistfully. Then he seemed to shake himself back to the present. He pointed straight ahead. “Here we are. The misbehaving machine in question.”

  A number of dishes lay piled on wheeled carts around the foodsynth slot, most bearing witness to computer-manufactured meals gone terribly awry. In a few cases, the edible polymers used to shape the food had been neither properly shaped nor flavored, emerging from the slot as twisted hunks of gray and white plastic.

  “A disaster, no doubt about it.” Darex picked up one particularly grotesque blob and banged it against the dish to demonstrate its solidity. “That, my friend, was supposed to be a slice of warm oza nut bread. I’m sure I don’t need to point out that it is none of those things. Exactly what it is, in fact, I would be hard-pressed to say.”

  “Again, I apologize, your Highness.”

  “I’m hoping you can make short work of this. I’m planning to host a small gathering for a few friends after the antigrav match this afternoon. I expect Mal Jahr himself will turn up. I can hardly serve him globs of half-melted polymer, can I? Not to mention the other dignitaries who will be attending. Those who share my royal box are accustomed to more appetizing fare.”

  “I’ll be as efficient as possible, your Highness,” Jasno said as he pried the top panel off the synth unit. He hated to disappoint Darex, but he doubted the fare the unit spewed out, even in perfect working order, would delight his affluent guests. If only his supervisor would allow him to program some of his own formulas into the units—then they might learn what it would be like to really enjoy the taste of spicy meat, rich sauces, and sweet desserts. Sadly, Jasno had learned the hard way that his job was to repair and maintain, not innovate.

  As he worked, Darex continued to watch him with his arms crossed over his chest and a skeptical look on his admittedly handsome face.

  “You look quite young, you know,” Darex said after a while. “From your features, I would guess you’re from Earth. How long have you worked at Port Equinox?”

  “I’ve been employed here since I was quite young, your Highness. And actually, I assume I am of Earthen ancestry, but I am not sure where I was born or exactly who my parents were. I have been a ward of the port since infancy—some twenty Earth years ago now.”

  “Really? How interesting. You were an orphan, I assume? Were your parents the victims of pirates? They were quite a problem in this sector some twenty years ago, though of course I was but a child then myself.”

  “Sadly, no one knows, your Highness,” Jasno answered as he angled a laser screwdriver into the guys of the open unit. “I was classified as a foundling, though the details were never recorded. I was raised in port housing and transferred to a service apprenticeship as soon as I was old enough to work. So you see, I have more experience with the foodsynths than many men twice my age.” He added the last bit while biting back a smirk. A privileged young man like Prince Darex couldn’t possibly imagine how hard an apprenticeship was, or how lucky Jasno had been to get one at all with no family to buy his way in. Most star ports were rough places, and Port Equinox was no different, though their rich visitors never saw that side of things. Privately, he wondered how long Darex would have survived on his own in such an environment without his title, his royal father’s patronage, or the obvious wealth that enabled him to rent one of the port hotel’s most luxurious suites.

  “So it’s even possible you were the child of pirates and not simply their victim,” Darex said with a laugh. “How very exciting! There may be more to you than meets the eye, Jasno Erys.”

  Since Jasno’s head was hidden inside the foodsynth
unit, he felt free to roll his eyes. “Yes, your Highness. Anything is possible when it comes to my background.”

  Luckily, Darex moved on to a new topic of conversation. “Tell me, Jasno, are you interested in antigrav wrestling? Seems like a lot of ships have docked here just to see this afternoon’s match. Mal Jar the Magnificent is in fine form this season.”

  “Yes, your Highness. I follow Mal Jar’s career when I have time.” He didn’t bother to explain that his leisure hours were few and far between, given the number of foodsynth malfunctions he tended on an average port day, and often well into many artificial nights, too.

  “I’m glad to hear it. I’m his primary sponsor, you know. I paid for all his training when he was nothing but an underdeveloped whelp—a bit like you, in fact.” Darex snickered at his own humor. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever wanted a career in the ring? Mal Jar practices so frequently that he tends to wear out his sparring partners. I’m always looking for new ones.”

  “That’s very generous, your Highness, but my contract with the port precludes my leaving for another ten years. The administrators consider it a debt I owe for my care and schooling.”

  “Ah. Pity. Mal Jar could have used another fresh body to toss around.” Impatiently Darex shifted from one foot to the other. He checked the timepiece attached to his shiny gold sleeve. “Speaking of the match, I need to leave for the arena soon so I can greet my guests. My bodyguards are waiting in the hall to escort me. I don’t suppose you’ll be finishing within the next minutes…?”

  Jasno flicked off the laser screwdriver and turned to face Darex. “Apologies, your Highness, but four of your memory components have burned out. I’ll have to replace them, but it may be a bit time-consuming.”

  “I see.” Darex eyed Jasno’s toolbox. “I suppose you have some on hand?”

  “I do. However, by the time I install and test them…”

  “Yes, yes, I get the picture. Well, then, I suppose I’ll just have to leave you to finish on your own. I had planned to take my staff to the match with me, but I suppose I could leave someone behind to assist you.”

  Jasno wiped his hands on his drab green jumpsuit. “I’m fine working alone, your Highness. I often do. And please be assured that I am registered and bonded through the port. You need have no concerns about leaving for your appointment.”

  “I suppose most of your clients don’t stay to watch, do they?” Darex frowned, considering. “Very well. See that everything is in working order by the time I return. Your superiors may put any charges on my docking account.”

  “Yes, your Highness, but that won’t be necessary. All such repairs are complementary for guests. Enjoy the match.”

  “I certainly plan to. My box seats are the finest in the arena. I specifically requested seats that would lift me high above the usual riffraff that tends to populate such events.” Before he turned to go, he glanced at Jasno as though he were still undecided whether to consider him one of them.

  Finally alone, Jasno sighed in relief and went back to his work with the food synthesizer. Somehow, the memory chips used to imbue the polymers with taste, texture and shape had melted into acrid-smelling little squares, no doubt from Darex angrily pushing the same buttons over and over until the modules overheated. It took him quite some time to extricate each one and scrape down the slots to receive new chips.

  When he turned back to his toolbox, he noticed a panel viewer on the wall opposite him, strategically placed so that guests could watch broadcasts while they dined. Today, he knew, the port station would be broadcasting the gravity-free wrestling match live. Most everyone he knew would be watching it, either from the stadium—ensconced in the cheap seats among Darex’s riffraff, perhaps—or on viewscreens like this one. Surely it wouldn’t hurt for him to listen in to the commentary while he worked. There was no specific rule against it, as far as he knew. After all, many guests left the viewscreen on while he worked on their broken control panels. They didn’t usually care if he sneaked a peek at the action. In fact, he’d seen some rather startling programs over the years.

  Moving quickly, as though afraid of being caught in the act, Jasno crossed the room and flipped on the viewer. The match was just starting, the crowd roaring and chanting as Mal Jar the Master strode forward and took the ring.

  As always, he was dressed in an elaborate robe that encased his whole body, this one black and covered with silver spangles to emulate a starfield. It glittered when he swirled it and flung it off with a single flick of his hand. His muscular body, oiled for the match and rippling with slabs of bulging sinew, coaxed the expected oohs and ahhs from the crowd. No doubt Prince Darex was enjoying his ringside seat. The tiny patch of cloth between Mal Jar’s thick legs, done up in the same shiny pattern, revealed as much as it hid. Jasno, too, sucked in a breath as he strode to the center of the ring and spread his arms to coax the crowd to fever pitch.

  On the other side of the ring, his opponent, a gray-skinned fellow in a plain white loincloth that unfortunately reminded Jasno of a baby’s diaper, began to look nervous. Still, he swallowed visibly, making his long neck flex, and stepped into the center alongside Mal Jar. A bell sounded, and the gravity inside the ring went off.

  The crowd noise grew deafening as the two floated up in the air, swimming against the unseen currents of air as they tried to grab onto one another. There they would wrestle, floating in midair and hopefully performing various crowd-pleasing turns and stunts, until one of them forced the other back into the gravity zone, where he would plummet to the floor and taste bitter defeat along with a little blood.

  While the two circled each other, the broadcast camera flashed around the ring to record the crowd’s reactions. Jasno caught a glimpse of Darex in his box, surrounded by a full entourage of servants and well-dressed friends. Jasno was only mildly surprised to see that all were men, though the rest of the audience contained plenty of women. From what Jasno could see, Darex seemed to be casually flirting with some of his guests. At one point, he leaned over and actually pinched a tall, laughing man right where his nipple would be. As he watched, shocked by the lascivious display, Jasno felt the crotch of his own jumpsuit tighten.

  A bit embarrassed, Jasno turned off the screen and began installing the memory cards. Once again, he wished his superiors would allow him to program in some of his special recipes, the ones from the antique book he secretly carried in his toolbox. It almost physically hurt him to stick to the drab, port-approved dishes contained on the prefabricated cards. Yet he kept on, mindful of his responsibilities and fearful of being tagged insubordinate. Port workers who rebelled against doing their assigned jobs the way they were told to often found themselves transferred to a far less desirable department to work under even more Draconian supervisors.

  At last, the cards were installed and the unit reassembled. All that remained was to test his handiwork. Jasno punched in a fairly simple code—the one for Ogwullian root stew—and stepped back to see what emerged from the slot.

  When he thought about it later, he could come up with only reason for what happened next. In his annoyance, Darex had probably pressed so many buttons in sequence that his last few requests became logged in the foodsynth processor and jumbled together. Normally, there would be no way for a combination of bright red qogera berry sauce, Ogwullian stew, and some unknown alcoholic beverage to come spraying out at him with the force of an uncapped cleaning hose. Yet that was exactly the unfortunate mixture that doused Jasno from head to foot the moment he pressed the synth command button.

  Luckily, very little of the foul concoction had hit Darex’s floor—but unluckily, most of it had hit Jasno instead. Cursing, he leaped back and looked down at his saturated uniform. There was no way he could return to duty in such a state, and returning to his quarters to change would mean he would lose time from his already-brief lunch break. One other solution did present itself—it was risky, but certainly practical.

  Every suite in the port hotel contained a clothin
g sanitizer as part of the bathing chamber. Since they cleaned at high speed and without water, such machines would require only moments to clean a single jumpsuit. If he got caught, he would be reprimanded—or worse—but at that moment, with the sticky qogera sauce seeping down the back of his neck, Jasno decided to chance it.

  Grabbing up his toolkit, which he never left unattended, Jasno hurried into the bathing chamber. There, he switched off his holographic nameplate, stripped, and shoved his overalls into the cleaning unit. The shower was inviting, since by now the stuff was in his hair and all over his face and hands, so he stepped in and pressed the button. The warm spray, consisting of an ultrafine sonic stream, cleansed his skin almost instantly. He emerged quickly, only to find his jumpsuit still tumbling. Since he felt self-conscious about walking around naked in the prince’s room, he wrapped himself in a soft silver towel stamped with the port logo and waited by the washer.

  His heart leaped into his throat when, moments later, he heard the suite’s front door slide open. Male voices carried from the next room. Prince Darex’s entourage, he figured. Of course they would catch him—they probably had camera surveillance everywhere in the hotel! What had he been thinking? He’d be lucky to be reassigned to the recycling crew after this.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as a group of three huge men burst into the room and stormed toward him. Only one seemed to be humanoid, and not by much. The other two were scaly and vaguely reptilian, with large pitiless eyes and fingers with suction cups on the ends. The suction cups stuck to his bare skin when they reached out and grabbed him. Instinctively he grabbed his toolkit and brought it to his chest, ready to protect the valuable tools—and the even more valuable book inside it—with his life if it came to that.

  “Relax, your Highness,” the humanoid guard said. “We won’t hurt you.”

  “Your Highness?” Jasno repeated. His lips went numb as he gaped at them. “Me? No, no, I’m not…”