The Galactic Pantheon Novellas

by Alyce Caswell

But that wasn’t important. Not anymore.

  If they hadn’t known she was there, they would have abandoned all they’d worked so hard to build, completely unaware that she’d given them a chance. Their fear became determination. With a goddess on their side, they might just win.

  FINARA.

  Head pounding, Finara fell to her knees. Flames raced over her on their way towards the city, a heated caress that made her miss the warmth of her mortal lover. Slapping her hands to her ears, she demanded, ‘What! What is you want from me?’

  To listen, the Ine said. To a father, not a god.

  ‘It’s not like you’re giving me a choice!’

  You do not have the time to argue with me, daughter.

  ‘Oh, really?’ Finara said, sneering. ‘Eternity not enough time all of a sudden, huh?’

  LISTEN! he roared.

  She listened. But she made sure her father felt her fury.

  The Ine’s voice lost some volume, but not its sense of urgency. It does not matter if the mortal had a part to play in my grand design. You love her.

  Finara’s laugh rasped out of her throat, even though the smoke shouldn’t have bothered her. ‘So what? She’s not into the whole eternity thing. It’s too long for her. Stark, a week is too long for her.’

  I desire to see all of my children achieve happiness, be they mortal or of my blood.

  ‘She’s in so much pain because of what happened — she can’t bear it!’ Finara snapped. ‘And you kept her alive, living with that, just so she could teach me a lesson! If that’s your definition of happiness, I’ll pass.’

  There is no more time. You must go. Now!

  A bar of white light slid down Finara’s form, throwing her halfway across the galaxy in an instant. Disoriented by her father’s method of teleportation, Finara wavered on her feet for a moment, then realised where she was — Grace’s hotel room. The bed was disturbed from their night together and the vidscreen was on, displaying a warning about an imminent eruption.

  But there was no sign of Grace.

  The techpad lying on the bed blinked repeatedly, demanding attention. Finara gave it. Once the device was in her hands, the screen lit up, revealing the message Grace had left for her.

  Finara,

  These past few days with you have been remarkable. But if I let what is between us grow, then you will ask for eternity from me. If we’d had more time together, more than a handful of days, perhaps eventually I might have been able to come to terms with it. But I can’t be sure of that. It would not be fair to you, to give you hope where there is none.

  I may not be able to read your mind and I don’t really know you that well, but I have seen a change in you — a change for the better — and I rejoice that I was the tool that implemented it.

  I am so sorry.

  It pains me that eternity is too long and a week is too short.

  Grace

  Finara vanished from the room before the techpad even hit the sheets.

  Lava was already surging down the slope, towards the mortal who was greeting it with arms spread, her face set and determined. At the last moment, Finara threw herself in front of Grace, her back to the river of fire, encasing the woman she loved with safety and fresh air.

  Grace’s eyes were filled with tears.

  Finara grabbed her shoulders, pinning her in place, and said roughly, ‘Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare. Not yet. Not until I’ve said my bit.’

  Grace nodded mutely.

  ‘I won’t offer eternity right now,’ Finara went on, ‘because even though I think I might already love you, we’ve only just met. I want to get to know you, the you who isn’t waiting to die. I want to know if we’re suited for living together, I want to know if we’re capable of making more out of our relationship, not just having hot, hot sex — and I mean that literally. We’ll have sex in a puddle of lava and you’ll love every minute of it. I’ll keep you safe. Stark, I just want you to be safe.’

  ‘But you will always want to offer me eternity,’ Grace pointed out.

  ‘If you don’t want it, fine,’ Finara blurted. ‘Just be with me until you die, and I mean die naturally because this is stupid.’

  ‘You don’t want to marry anyone.’

  Finara growled in frustration and dropped her hands to her sides, knotting them into fists. ‘You’re throwing that in my face now? I said that because I was upset, Ms Dense Mediaist. I was falling hard for you and you were still going to off yourself! Of course I wasn’t going to marry anyone if they weren’t you.’

  Grace blinked slowly. Her tears were now clustered on her eyelashes. ‘But if I never agree to become immortal…’

  ‘Then I will respect your starking choice,’ Finara said, scowling. ‘I’ll hate it, hate how I can’t stop you being so stubborn, but that’s you and I wouldn’t try to change that. You challenge me. You don’t put up with my shit. And I’m not asking for forever — I’m just asking for more than a few days. That good enough?’

  Grace’s lips answered her, delivering a fierce kiss that burned all the way into Finara’s abdomen, somehow hotter than the molten rock roaring down around them. The mortal’s thoughts were a turbulent mix of delight, disbelief — and excitement for what lay ahead.

  They embraced, then vanished inside a swirl of fire.

  • • •

  Fifteen Old Earth years later

  She was permanently frozen at forty.

  Grace peered into the mirror in that same poky hotel room on Arksaw. It had taken years for her to decide that she wanted to spend eternity with Finara, but she considered it a ludicrously short amount of time now that time was irrelevant. They were forever bound together, by a ceremony that had left them with scars on their hands instead of rings.

  These days Grace was an e-paper reporter, a famous one who had received a lot of attention from thousands of sponsors and billions of readers. Grace preferred her faceless method of disseminating information; no one could guess at her location because there were no images to draw clues from. According to the ageing but still popular mediaist Ton Tinel, her written word was strong, aroused feeling, and seemed so much more real than the breathy monologues that most mediaists delivered.

  Grace turned away from the mirror, instead drinking in the sight of her companion. Finara, still a youthful twenty-something in appearance, lay on the bed, naked, smoothing out the sheet beside her: an invitation.

  They were back at the hotel for their anniversary. Their daughter, Lirlia, who had been generated from merged DNA at a private clinic on Enoc, was currently in the care of Kuja and Fei. Lirlia was young and full of fire, both physically and mentally. And she was also infuriatingly stubborn — just like both of her mothers.

  ‘So what changed your mind in the end?’ Finara asked. ‘You know, about eternity and all that.’

  Grace eased her way onto the bed, sliding off her prosthesis as she did so. She had never bothered to replace it with one that looked more real. She didn’t care what anyone thought of it — to her it was a reminder, to always ensure the safety of her sources.

  Slowly, Grace removed her clothes, one piece a time, her smile growing as wicked as the one Finara was already sporting. ‘Perhaps I wanted to have mind-blowing sex until the end of time.’

  ‘Not the worst reason to marry me, I guess,’ Finara said with a snort. ‘You’re lucky I know what you’re really thinking.’

  Grace lowered her lips to Finara’s ankle and began kissing her way up a shivering calf. ‘I could tell you how much I love you. Or I could show you.’

  ‘You will do both, stark it!’

  Grace laughed and acquiesced. They made love all through the night, once again exploring each other, exhausting each other, and finding in each other the love and support they both needed, not only to be happy, but to continue to thrive and grow.

  Eternity was not so frightening when it was spent with someone you loved, Grace thought.

  And yes, the sex was pretty mind-blowing.
>
  The Shifting Ice

  CHAPTER ONE

  At least the vidcam will capture this, Dom Zhang thought as he plummeted to his death.

  The starship that had deposited him this close to the planet’s magnetic pole was long gone, disgorging the rest of its passengers half a world away at a soulless spaceport surrounded by sunny, sparkling beaches — the perfect place for tourists to add their footsteps to the millions that had come before them.

  Dom wasn’t interested in shooting the same tired footage that everyone else had on their personal vidcams. Nisha, his boss, only handed over the coin-chips if he captured exciting new ’scapes for the Graphic Stock Collection. Once his footage was uploaded there anyone could pay to access it, no danger required on their part.

  Funny, Dom had never really thought about how dangerous his job was until his hoverboots cut out and his rappelling line snapped.

  One piece of equipment failing — that’s bad luck.

  Two failing — the Creator God is out to get you.

  If you’d asked Dom how he thought he was going die, he would never have picked ‘falling off a giant freaking iceberg’.

  Why bother being afraid of heights when you’ve got the tech to make sure you never fall? Why worry about not being able to call for help when no one can get to you in time anyway? And why entertain the thought of dying when you’ve survived so many times before?

  At least his day hadn’t started quite so badly.

  • • •

  Some hours earlier

  Fingers laced behind his head, Dom kept his eyes sealed shut to better enjoy the sensations rippling through him. Sure hands grasped his hips and a wickedly hot mouth slid down his spit-slicked shaft, taking its time to reach the base — the starship’s captain was certainly living up to his boast that he could bring a man to the edge and make him dance along it.

  Dom’s vidcam was hidden in the corner, courtesy of its miniature cloaking device. No sense wasting the opportunity to add this encounter to his own personal collection, especially since the captain was quite toned for one who spent his life darting from star to star. The onboard gym probably helped.

  Dom felt the swollen head of his member brush against the back of the captain’s throat for one glorious moment — and then that moment was over. Unable to stop himself, Dom angled his hips upwards, trying to increase the maddeningly slow pace his companion had set, but the captain released Dom’s cock and shook his head, tutting.

  Dom held in the growl. Barely.

  ‘Told you I’d make you beg for it,’ the captain said smugly.

  Dom opened his mouth — definitely not to beg, of course, but to bargain — when his communicator squawked. He threw a glare at the device lying beside his pillow, knowing that he couldn’t ignore it; his contract required him to be contactable at all times. Failing to answer this call might cost him his job.

  He grabbed the communicator and released a hiss of air when he saw that the culprit was his boss. ‘Galactic Gods, Nisha! What is it?’

  ‘Mr Zhang, your vidcam is the property of the Graphic Stock Collection,’ Nisha said flatly — hers was the sort of voice that made Dom nervous because he never knew if she was about to praise or lambaste him. ‘It should not be misused in this manner.’

  The captain started looking around the cabin. There was no use pretending it wasn’t there, so Dom fluttered a hand and the vidcam shimmered into view. He expected anger or outrage, but the captain merely appraised the device, looking thoughtful.

  Dom pressed his palm to the mouthpiece of his communicator. ‘I’ll totally send you a copy.’

  ‘I think I’ll have to improve my performance,’ the captain said, winking.

  Dom smirked and returned his attention to his communicator. It was still deathly silent; Nisha didn’t waste her words.

  ‘Now, Nisha,’ Dom drawled, ‘my contract states that I am free to work without any interference that might hinder my creativity. You hacking into my vidcam could be considered interfering. Which makes this a breach of contract. The Collection wouldn’t want me going to the mediaists with that, would they?’ He paused, raising his eyebrows at his companion and tilting his head towards the vidcam; an unspoken question. When the captain smiled broadly in response, Dom added, ‘Don’t worry, Nisha. You’re welcome to watch.’

  Nisha used a single curse word, just one, and then the connection cut out.

  ‘Do you think she’s still watching?’ the captain asked.

  ‘I have no idea,’ Dom said, dropping his communicator. ‘But I’d appreciate you getting back on the bed and putting on a good show anyway.’

  The captain was most willing to comply.

  • • •

  Many hours later, the vidcam was aimed at empty, desolate scenery. The device would continue to hover there beside the iceberg until either the battery died or it was retrieved by the Graphic Stock Collection. All of the Collection’s vidcams were fitted with trackers; it wasn’t unusual for them to outlast their users and this made retrieving the tech a lot easier.

  The user of this particular vidcam smacked into the ocean with enough force to snap bones and sever arteries.

  Had Dom been conscious, he would not have been dismayed about the fact that his life was over — no, he would have been annoyed, because at that moment two of the sub-level gods who very rarely made public appearances were standing on a nearby chunk of sea ice. And his vidcam was pointing the wrong way.

  It would have been the scoop of a lifetime, netting far more coin-chips from the mediaists than anything the Collection could have offered — not that Dom would have cared about the money. He couldn’t exactly spend coin-chips where he was headed.

  No mortal lived as long as a god. But fame was eternal. Dom had badly wanted to leave his mark on the galaxy before he died.

  Because then someone might have actually missed him.

  • • •

  Fayay, the god of water, and Rasson, the god of ice, both watched as the mortal’s body was swallowed by ravenous waves.

  ‘Foolish creatures, the humans,’ Fayay noted, then paused to spit out some of the long, dank hair that had fallen over his lips. ‘How they became the dominant species in this galaxy when there are far more intelligent beings is beyond me.’

  Rasson held up a hand, sending out a shard of his powers. The mortal’s body, now entombed in a block of ice, rose back to the surface and fought its way across the roiling sea towards the gods. Fayay could have stilled the waves to make the journey easier, but Rasson hadn’t expected him to.

  ‘Why save him, Rasson?’ Fayay asked scornfully, the scar on his cheek twitching. ‘He is not one of yours.’

  ‘He’s not yours either, brother,’ Rasson countered. ‘He worships and belongs to no one. So I can do with him as I wish.’

  Each of the Creator God’s divine children had been given a domain full of mortals to rule over, a necessity thanks to the rapid spread of humans throughout the galaxy. Rasson’s control was usually limited to lifeless moons or small swathes of land and sea as opposed to whole planets, but this suited him just fine. He did not need vast amounts of territory to feel superior, not the way many of his siblings did.

  Fayay and Rasson were similar in build and colouring and shared the same cerulean eyes and dark hair, though Rasson kept the latter short and was fairly certain his strands were midnight blue, not black. The Iceine (Rasson’s official title) was one of the youngest gods in the Galactic Pantheon, but he considered Fayay, the Watine and second oldest of them all, his closest friend and firmest ally.

  Fayay smacked his lips with a pale tongue. ‘The mortal entered my domain the moment his body struck the water. He should be punished for his stupidity, not rewarded for it.’

  Rasson offered a bland smile. He was grateful that his brother did not possess the mind-reading abilities that some of their other siblings had been born with. Admitting to the real reason he had spared the mortal would only make Fayay assume that Rasson was turni
ng against him — and too many of the sub-level gods in the Galactic Pantheon had done that lately. The Watine needed a brother right now, not a potential enemy.

  ‘Our youngest brother, Kuja, has convinced many mortals to worship him in the past few years,’ Rasson said, watching the waves carefully, ensuring that none of them capsized his precious cargo. ‘It has made me wonder if there’s a way to convince more of them to worship me. Perhaps I can glean some important insights from this man.’

  Fayay’s laugh was as harsh as it was incredulous. ‘What do you intend to do? Ask him how to convert other mortals?’

  ‘What is the harm in asking?’

  ‘He should die for being so reckless.’

  ‘Oh he will die, Fayay,’ Rasson promised. ‘But only after I am done with him.’

  A cruel smile carved its way onto Fayay’s face. ‘Enjoy. I will pursue my entertainment elsewhere.’

  Water shot up from the surface of the sea and spun into a cocoon around Fayay. When it dropped, there was no sign of the Watine. Sighing in relief, Rasson flicked his wrist and the block of ice completed its journey, stopping right in front of the god.

  Rasson peered down at the broken body encased inside the transparent slab and frowned. It would take him hours to reverse such extensive damage with his healing abilities. But the Iceine did not mind. As the god of a domain that rarely needed constant intervention, he was always running out of things to do.

  How did his older siblings, with thousands of years behind them, spend their hours, their days, their centuries? Rasson had no idea.

  But now he had a plan to deal with his empty eternity, a plan that would unfold perfectly — unlike his recent conversation with Kuja, the god of rainforests.

  • • •

  Two weeks earlier

  ‘Did Fayay send you?’ Kuja asked suspiciously. Spiked vines were snaking around his arms as he stepped out of his hovel and advanced on his brother.