by Mimi Riser
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Death before dishonor…
Was there no way to avoid both?
For all her courage and conviction, Starshine couldn’t help hoping for a miracle. In fact, she’d spent a sleepless night at her loom trying to manifest one, weaving a web of prayers with silvery thread as fine as hair. No mean feat, because the thread was hair—her own shorn tresses from the zimzim sacrifice—but finally she finished the fragile fabric, just as night reached the edge of day, and carried it out to the stone shrine in the palace courtyard garden.
The palace itself was generations old, but the shrine around which it had been built was ancient, dating back to the misty time of legends. The Mother Shrine it was once called, and consisted simply of a large, low, circular white rock with a glassy-smooth flat surface on top for offerings.
In ages past, those offerings had been dedicated to the Great Mother, Goddess Gaea, whose body was symbolized by the planet that bore Her name, but whose heartbeat was the pulse of the Universe, and whose thoughts were the threads of Fate. According to legend, worlds everywhere had once known Goddess Gaea, though many had called Her by other names. Throughout the galaxies, so it was written, She had once been revered as the original creative force and source of all life.
But no more.
Long, long ago, people had exchanged her for newer, neater gods. Many of the Mother’s names literally meant “soil”—and who wanted to worship dirt?
Only desperate princesses with a penchant for arcane lore and nowhere else to turn. Just as Starshine had recently resurrected the zimzim ritual, she now sought to awaken a forgotten goddess.
She knelt before the stone shrine, surrounded by fragrant blossoms and the sweet song of feathered perpicoos, and looked up into the deep violet dawn sky, knowing somewhere, high above the atmosphere, lurked giant warships massed for attack. But all she could see was a morning like any other. The air felt cool and calm. The Day of Destruction dawned deceptively peaceful. Around her the garden bloomed as lush and full of life as ever.
Wanting to keep it that way, Starshine leaned forward and carefully spread out her prayer-web on the stone’s smooth white top, where it caught the rays of the rising sun and shimmered as though it had been woven from strands of pure light. A positive sign, she hoped. A gossamer gift to the Goddess. A shining plea for the salvation of seven worlds.
The Great Mother heard and answered all well-intended prayers, so the ancient holy texts said, and so Starshine wanted to believe. But it was difficult not to doubt when doom rose with the sun in the ever brightening sky. She suddenly realized the sky was too bright—starting to glow with an ominous luster.
Had the warships’ attack already begun?
Had her prayers and offerings been too little too late?
That glow meant the deflector-shields were weakening under heavy fire, and deadly radiation would soon be seeping through. It also implied Mother Gaea had abandoned Her children irrevocably. And, honestly, who could blame Her?
“Great Mother,” Starshine called, “on behalf of us all, I plead for forgiveness and understanding. It shames me to think how your children have forgotten you, but I beg you now to not forget us. Take me as a sacrifice if you must, but please protect the others. If you can use me to save the rest, I give myself freely into your hands to do with as you will.”
As if in answer, a distant rumble came from above.
The voice of the Goddess? Or the sound of heavy weapons?
Either way, Starshine sensed she’d just sealed her own fate. But she was no longer sure what that fate would be. Death? Or something worse? Shivering with a sudden chill, she hurried back into the palace.
Continued in Episode 2…
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Sneak-peek
Excerpt from Episode 2:
Within moments, the four Fed cruisers were so close they almost filled the view-screen that Smash, Braun, and Xu-fu stood watching.
“Should we make a run for it?” Braun asked.
“Too late for that,” Xu-fu said. “We’d nevrr make it with all the extra weight we’rr carrying.”
“Hold on,” Smash interrupted. “We’re a Fed cruiser, too, remember. They have no reason to suspect us. And we do know some of their security codes.” (Thanks to the RAT hacker team.) “We may be able to bluff our way out.”
“Orr not,” Xu-fu grunted. He was always so optimistic.
Everyone tensed as a cold voice rang out over the transmitter. “This is Patrol 836-100. State your ship’s code number, destination, and mission.”
“They certainly don’t waste any time,” Braun said grimly. “What now?”
“Answer them. What else?” Smash shrugged. “Xu-fu, go tell the men to prepare for battle—just in case.”
“Rright.” The midget rushed out.
Sitting down at the transmitter, Smash spoke in a nasally efficient tone. “This is battle cruiser 00795. Our destination is Gaeas-7. Mission, to help quell the revolt the Gaeans are engaged in.”
Well, the number and destination were correct at least. Two out of three wasn’t bad.
There was a short pause, then the cold voice replied, “Very well, 00795, you may proceed. Transmission over.”
Braun’s breath blew out with a whoosh. “We made it!”
“I’m not so sure,” Smash said slowly. “That was a little too easy.” He sat staring at the view-screen. “Wait… Where’s the fourth ship?”
“What?” Braun looked at the screen and saw for himself. Where there had been four ships, there were now only three. “Bloody drarg!”
The curse coincided with a sudden sharp jolt that threw both men to the deck.
Blistering the air with some curses of his own, Smash scrambled upright and lunged for the cruiser’s intercom. “Damage report, all decks—report immediately! SAM, wherever you are, get up here on the double!”
He spun back to the view-screen just in time to see the other three ships fanning out to block his escape forward, port, and starboard.
SAM came whizzing onto the bridge. “We have been hit in the stern. Minor damage—rear lasers knocked out—but all engines are functioning,” he reported.
“Fat lot of good that does us,” Braun growled. “There’s no place we can run to.”
Smash wanted to kick himself. “I wish I hadn’t been so clever about frying that force field. We could sure use it now.”
“What force field?” Braun demanded.
“He means my energy shield,” came a quiet voice from the entranceway. There stood Zen, looking a bit sleep-rumpled with her hood pushed back and her face framed by a surprising mass of deep crimson hair. Whoever would have guessed that ash gray cowl hid such fire? Her eyes were large and dark and focused on Smash as she stepped forward.
“Captain, you did not disable that shield. I discontinued it, for I saw that you would not give up until the shield broke, or your craft incinerated. I did not wish to destroy you, only chase you away. But you were more persistent than I had anticipated.”
“You generated that huge F-field?” Smash was stunned.
“Well, I did have some help. I—how can I say it—hooked myself into the ship’s master ’puter, which put me in touch with the entire vessel. All it took was concentration. There is energy everywhere, for those who know how to use it.”
And she did, obviously.
“I don’t care how you managed it. Can you do it again?” Smash asked urgently.
“If needed, yes, for a short time.”
“Then please do, and hold it for as long as you can.” Smash turned to the exit. “SAM, take the helm. I have an idea.” With those words, he was off…
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About the author:
https://www.mimiriser.com
Mimi Riser is a longtime author of both fiction and nonfiction, including several series and spanning a variety of genres (with flavors ranging from sweet to spicy hot). Her books celebrate the upbeat, the offbeat, and “bea
ting the odds.” She began life in the urban northeast, but now resides in the rural southwest with her best friend and husband Rob.
