The Galactic Pantheon Novellas

by Alyce Caswell

  There was a soft sound in Finara’s throat.

  Grace moved onto another finger, and then onto the next. By the time she got to Finara’s thumb, it seemed the goddess had had enough of being teased.

  Finara grabbed the sheet, whirled it into a single white tentacle, then lashed it around Grace’s wrists, binding her to the headboard. Grace barely had time to blink before Finara claimed her lips with a deep, demanding kiss.

  Finara then spread her legs, knees either side of Grace’s head, a glint in her eyes.

  ‘Worship me,’ Finara ordered. ‘Slide your tongue inside me and make me moan.’

  Grace obeyed, drinking in the nectar of her goddess.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The mortal was splayed across the bed, sheet twisted around her naked form but doing little to cover it. Grinning, Finara stood and slipped into her clothes, then vanished inside a maelstrom of fire. Within moments, she landed on a different planet entirely, but the image of Grace dozing, legs parted just enough to offer a glimpse of the mortal’s glistening brown folds, followed her. It was distracting. And unprecedented. Finara never thought twice about her lovers.

  Annoyed, Finara perched on a slate-grey boulder, forcing herself to focus on the small town beneath her. Children woke and pestered their parents, older folk sat and admired the clear emerald sky, and those that could still bend their backs began to head towards their azure fields. But their animals were silent, watchful, tense. Some of the cattle, good stock descended from those that had lived on Old Earth, even broke their bonds and had to be chased down.

  Finara felt the nearby volcano stirring, disturbed by tectonic plates that refused to settle. In mere days, the picturesque mountain stretching into the sky would explode, its peak smashed into a crater.

  These settlers had journeyed across the stars with just enough supplies to become self-sufficient. But they lacked complicated sensing equipment — and had begun to think they didn’t need it. The volcano had been quiet for the three generations they had spent here; it was part of the unchanging scenery, a feature in some of the artwork they had begun to export off-world. Their planet was making discreet seismic rumblings beneath the soil, but none of the villagers were aware, because they couldn’t see or hear anything. Not yet.

  They had an elaborate golden shrine dedicated to the fire goddess standing in the centre of their village. It was for show, because none of them ever bothered to worship her or even thought of her when they passed the shrine. They believed its mere presence could protect them.

  ‘Stupid entitled mortals,’ Finara said, shaking her head.

  She knew that once the eruption started, they’d cry out for her instead of moving out of the way — and she’d feel compelled to save them. Older mortals she could ridicule and ignore until the last moment, but not children. They didn’t deserve to die because of a decision they hadn’t made. They deserved the chance to grow up and make their own stupid decisions.

  In a few days, they and their parents would watch in amazed relief as molten rock flowed miraculously around their village, leaving it unscathed. After the lava had cooled, they would forget their need for the fire goddess and go back to their short, useless lives.

  This bullshit was why Finara had enlisted the services of a mediaist. Some mortals acknowledged what she did for them, even if they didn’t worship her, but there were others who didn’t know they owed their continued existence to the Firine.

  She didn’t want the mortals to fear her. She wanted them to love her. To be thankful. To care about her as much as she cared about them.

  Finara sneezed. Her nose picked up a salty scent, one that was completely out of place on this ocean-less world. She sprang out of her crouch and turned towards the intruder, spurts of fire erupting from her palms. A threat for now, but the flames could easily become weapons.

  Her brother stood there on the shivering grass below her boulder, garbed in tattered cloths and a cloak woven from rotting seaweed. This was Fayay, the Watine, the god of water. He offered her a carefully crafted sneer, one that was too upturned for her liking. He was going to enjoy himself, whatever he’d planned to do or say.

  ‘Are you finally going to teach the mortals a lesson?’ he hissed, his dank hair flattened to the sides of his face.

  ‘No way, bro,’ Finara said, erasing her grimace with a strained laugh. If Fayay was displeased with his followers, he sent a tsunami or some other disaster to destroy entire settlements. She wasn’t sure why the Ine allowed it. ‘I’m not punishing them. It’s bad for my image. I’ve got mediaists watching my every move now.’

  The Watine frowned.

  ‘Yeah, you should be worried that they’ll start recording your antics,’ Finara said in response to what she saw in his mind. She chuckled. ‘You’re not just worried. You’re actually afraid, aren’t you, brother?’

  ‘I can destroy you,’ Fayay growled.

  ‘You couldn’t even destroy Kuja, our youngest brother. What makes you think you can touch me?’

  Fayay’s thin lips curved into a smirk. ‘I can fight you and distract you long enough that these people will be destroyed when that volcano erupts. Will you be able to save them when you’re too busy saving yourself?’

  Finara kept silent for a moment, then burst out, ‘What the fuck is your deal, Fayay?’

  He blinked, his mouth slightly ajar.

  ‘First you get jealous because Sandsa falls in love, so you threaten his family,’ Finara said, straightening her index finger. She flicked up her middle finger to join it. ‘Then you start sulking because Kuja was brave enough to challenge Father over the right to be with Fei — and it’s not just Kuja that’s allowed to know love, you idiot, we all are. So what now? I’m getting too much attention from the mortals and you can’t handle the thought of your followers deciding to worship me instead?’

  Finara expected the ball of water that Fayay sent her way. It disintegrated against her answering streak of fire, then misted away on the breeze. He lashed out again and again, but she parried every blow. Finara could see into his mind. She saw each move before he made it. She had an advantage.

  But he had one too.

  Fayay had been gifted with telekinesis, an ability that was much stronger than anything the Chippers had. Fayay could move anything, no matter how heavy, no matter how large. And Finara hadn’t realised just what he’d been moving, because he’d kept his thoughts on one thing while doing another.

  The starship drifting into position overhead was as large as one of the more generous wings of the hotel Finara had left earlier. The settlers here didn’t have the sleek, small vessels that populated the richer parts of the galaxy — this was an ancient herdship, designed to move people and supplies. Its fuel cells had probably been drained dry in the last century, leaving the ship to languish on the dirt where it had landed. But today the outdated vessel had been yanked, as swiftly and as violently as an uprooted a plant, into the sky. And now it was hurtling back towards to the ground.

  Finara teleported away just as the immense hulk crashed down on top of her.

  When she strode out of the fiery vortex that had deposited her some distance away, she could hear panicked shouting coming from the village. She looked around to find Fayay beside her, his grin cruel and cold. He lifted his hands in a simple, synchronised gesture. The battered herdship rose back into the air, then began to hover right over the cluster of buildings that formed the village. If Finara attacked her brother now, he might lose control. The ship would fall like a stone.

  ‘I will flatten these pathetic creatures,’ Fayay told her.

  Finara’s tongue swiped around her mouth, moistening it. ‘Unless I do what? Stop talking to the mediaists? Stop making you look bad?’

  Fayay tipped his head to the side. ‘You should never have done so in the first place.’

  The fury churning inside Finara’s stomach flooded southward, through fragile crust and flimsy mantle and then into molten core. Above them, the volcano woke too
early, belching dark smoke. It had only needed a minute push.

  ‘Shit!’ Finara said.

  Fayay swung a crazed look at her. He feared fire the same way she feared water. Grimly, Finara shoved aside her guilt, vowing to berate herself later for the turbulent emotions that had endangered the mortals, then forced unwavering glee into her voice as the ground shook. ‘I could force a hotspot into being beneath our very feet, Fayay. Would you care to stand still long enough for me to blast your skin from your bones?’

  Fayay took a whole step back, openly disconcerted.

  And then he noticed what she’d be doing while he’d been distracted.

  She had spent the last few minutes furiously turning the ship into slag, melting it as fast as a block of butter hurled into flames. Smaller, less dangerous chunks were already dropping out of the sky. The mortals were not so stupid that they didn’t start running away from the deadly hail. Fayay abruptly changed tactics and tried to heave what was left of the ship onto their position instead of on the village.

  Finara again used a vortex to move out of range. When her brother reappeared nearby, Finara charged right at him, a whip of fire leaping out of her hands. It lashed his cheek, bubbling and scarring the skin.

  ‘You won’t be here to save them all the time!’ the Watine snarled.

  A swirl of water encased Finara, smothering her and tossing her into the middle of an ocean on some distant world. Though the surface of the water glinted a mere arm’s length above her, she couldn’t reach it, her limbs locked in place by massive tidal forces. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even teleport; the water was suppressing her fire abilities. This never happened in the rainforests, in the deserts or in any of the other domains belonging to her brothers and sisters. Their minions left her well alone.

  I promised Grace an exclusive, she thought. I can’t die now!

  Finara’s tormented scream erupted as bubbles and she lashed out with her legs, with all her might, until she was able to kick her way to the surface. Once there, Finara managed to ignite enough fire to teleport herself away. She landed on her hands and knees mere seconds later, gasping for air, cursing, her arms shaking violently. But her full recovery would have to wait.

  The Firine hurtled to her feet and ran to the front of the village. Fortunately, the initial pyroclastic blast had slammed down the other side of the volcano, sparing the mortals that at least, but streams of lava were heading towards them, racing rather than flowing. There was no time for them to run. And some of them were too stubborn to have fled anyway.

  Finara threw up her hands and funnelled the deadly red torrents around her, acting like the fork in a river. Nearby trees and grasses caught fire from the proximity of the lava, but she doused those by speeding up the burning process, turning the natural fuel black within moments.

  The volcano eventually quietened, its tantrum finished. For now.

  Finara sagged, sighing deeply, then turned around to see the villagers watching her, their mouths hanging open. She stared at them, confused. She’d completely forgotten they were there.

  ‘You saved us!’ one of the mortals exclaimed, aiming a vidcam at her.

  Finara bowed dramatically, arms flung out either side of her body, relieved when the tremors that threatened didn’t surface. ‘Just so you know, I’m always around. Even if you can’t see me. I have to make sure your butts don’t get burnt off, don’t I? Sorry about the herdship. Uh, I can’t explain, but I had to shred it.’

  The villagers fell to their knees, praising her, promising that they would never forget the goddess who watched over them.

  ‘Much better,’ Finara said, smiling.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘You’re saying that the sub-level gods are constantly at war with each other and we mortals have no choice but to become collateral damage?’ Grace asked, looking up from the techpad resting on the table of their booth.

  They were enjoying breakfast together and talking over cups of blistering strong coffein. Neither of them had mentioned the previous night so far and Grace tried to keep it from replaying in her mind, in case Finara saw it, but judging by the occasional smirk the goddess sported, she had failed more than once.

  ‘You’re making it sound way worse than it is,’ Finara grumbled. ‘It’s not war. Some gods just get jealous and try to harm the mortals in someone else’s domain. I don’t do that. And I don’t have an ego, not like my male siblings. They’re the ones causing all the problems.’

  ‘You don’t think you have an ego?’ Grace asked, eyebrows raised. ‘You’re now making sure there’s always a vidcam around when you save people so that they give you all due attention and worship.’

  Finara scowled. Her eyes, which had been hazel for most of their conversation, once more became engulfed by flames. The temperature in the bar rose steadily, causing nearby patrons to sweat. Then, just as Grace began to think she’d have to take cover beneath the table, the goddess beamed and the air abruptly cooled. ‘Ms Shrewd Mediaist has seen me for what I am. Seems I can’t lie around you — even to myself! Ha.’

  Grace paused, wanting to bask in the goddess’ radiant smile for a few precious seconds before she erased it. ‘If I distribute Webcasts about you, your brother might hurt people. I can’t allow that. Not after…’ She looked down at her prosthesis, visible only as a strip of silver between heel and cuff.

  Finara slumped in the opposite chair. ‘I wish I didn’t care so much about you stupid mortals.’

  ‘Why is that, I wonder?’ Grace challenged, waiting for the goddess to meet her eyes before continuing. ‘Is it because you’d rather not feel guilty about risking our lives?’

  Finara opened her mouth, then closed it. Fury tightened every line of her eternally youthful features. Finally, she said, ‘No. I wish I didn’t care because it starking hurts to lose the ones I can’t save.’

  Grace’s stomach performed a twisting somersault. She pressed a hand there briefly, startled, then raised her fingers over the booth and made a beckoning motion. ‘We’ll discuss that later. Time to talk to the Chippers. I did promise them an audience with Ms Imperious Fire Goddess this morning.’

  A sudden change came over Finara. She sat up straight and teetered on the edge of her chair, bouncing just slightly to show her impatience. But Grace read the wariness in Finara’s fiery eyes as the Chippers approached. These were the mortals who had inserted chips into their temples in order to reach the Creator God, Finara’s father. Surely the goddess had nothing to fear from a pair of GLEA’s agents, whose tech-powered abilities were pitiful by comparison. Unless their connection to the Creator God was what made the goddess so uneasy…

  One of the Chippers was human, though her nostrils were slits instead of holes, which indicated that she had at least one alien ancestor; her superior was a Utalian, his bipedal form similar to her own, except that his skin was radiant red and his scalp bore maroon streaks. Both of them were clad in purple jumpsuits and bore a bump on one temple, where their chips had been inserted.

  The agents bowed at their waists before sliding into the booth, one on each side. Grace was just about to greet them when a bare foot walked its way up her thigh, a toe swiftly finding her clitoris even though it was covered by two layers of clothes.

  ‘Unfortunately, some complications have arisen since we last spoke,’ Grace began, narrowing her eyes at Finara.

  The GLEA agents exchanged glances. The Utalian ventured, ‘You said that we could have vids of the goddess agreeing to work with us. For promotional purposes. Are you saying that will no longer be possible?’

  ‘Ms Naughty Mediaist,’ Finara murmured. Her toe wiggled against Grace’s crotch. ‘You didn’t mention that to me.’

  Grace cleared her throat with difficulty. ‘The Firine wanted to go public with her story in several Webcasts, set to go out next week. But it’s come to my attention that doing this will anger some of her siblings. They have threatened the lives of mortals in order to silence us.’

  The fem
ale Chipper snorted. ‘Not exactly a brilliant idea to go public, was it.’

  Finara offered the agent a fireball that danced above her palm, rotating and twisting frantically, as though it was about to jerk out of her control. Grace suspected there wasn’t any danger of that actually happening; Finara enjoyed unsettling people, especially those who annoyed her.

  The Chipper’s eyes narrowed.

  Her Utalian companion didn’t seem concerned. He even held out his arm.

  Finara abandoned the ball (it continued to float above the table) and took the agent’s hand in hers, shaking it. ‘Huh. You’re not a bad man, Colonel Lon Jerrs.’

  ‘Mind-reader?’ he asked.

  Finara nodded.

  ‘Colonel Jerrs wanted me to ask you one question in particular,’ Grace spoke up. All eyes returned to her. ‘Why is it you don’t empower any of your followers the way the desert god does?’

  Finara frowned heavily. ‘Fire’s not the easiest thing to mess around with. You can’t just make it stop what it’s doing. I’ve had millennia to get it right; mortals don’t have my experience. And they tend to abuse the powers they’re given.’ She levelled a smile at Jerrs, her gaze focused on his chip instead of his face, and closed her fist over empty air. The floating sphere of fire evaporated. ‘Not all of them, but enough. Fire is a dangerous gift. I don’t want anyone to get needlessly hurt.’

  ‘Then you’re exactly who we want to be working with,’ Jerrs declared.

  ‘Just what would that partnership entail?’ Grace asked. ‘Are you going to employ the goddess as a contractor and send her out to enforce planetary laws in your stead?’

  Finara’s expression soured.

  Jerrs shook his head repeatedly, eyes wide. ‘God, no. Head General Sins has been most insistent that we give all due respect to the sub-level gods. What we’re doing is forming an alliance; the parties of which must promise to do all in their power to protect innocent lives. The Agency’s numbers are too few to cover the entire galaxy, so it is better for us if the Firine continues to look after those in her domain. Only if she specifically requests our presence will we encroach on her territory.’