A red dawn. It should be considered a warning — so said the many ancient tales that humans continued to tell each other. But Old Earth, where those first red dawns had been observed by Lorne’s species, had been destroyed millennia ago. Red dawns here meant it was just the start of another fifteen-hour day.
Lorne lived on Velde, a planet buried beneath dense cloud cover for eleven months out of each Old Earth year. Most days only red light made it through. Today, however, the atmospheric blanket shielding him from the nearest star was thinner than usual, a promise of better light. He wouldn’t need to sit by the UV lamps this evening if he went outside. Lorne had lost his tan since coming back to Velde and he intended to work on it. At least his wavy brunette hair still had its blond highlights. That was something.
Maybe he should pull on some shoes and try to outrun this feeling…whatever it was.
Lorne dragged air into his lungs and then spat it back out again. The plexiglass dividing him from this red dawn could be set to opaque or even midnight black, but he preferred his workout sessions to be surrounded by natural serenity.
He wasn’t feeling particularly serene right now.
The lonely clumps of grass outside shivered as a breeze wafted over them, the only sign of movement in a field studded with scarred and moss-strewn rocks. The mountains in the distance were capped with gleaming bronze snow and remained unmoving, unbending.
Very few large species of fauna existed up here on the endless plateaus. Usually it was as empty as a desert out there. Sometimes, if he was lucky, Lorne would spot a herd of imported muskoxen, descendants of the beasts that had roamed Old Earth.
He should have been used to the quiet by now, but today it felt different.
Someone — or something — was coming.
Lorne hissed out some choice curse words that he’d learned during his service to the Creator God and tapped two fingers to his scarred temple, where a chip had been housed underneath the skin until three Old Earth months ago. The specialised tech had made him, in slang terms, a ‘Chipper’ — someone who was capable of sensing and manipulating the energy of the Creator God’s universe. While he’d been at the Agency, Lorne had used his chip to create defensive forcefields and to locate nearby lifeforms.
He felt naked and vulnerable without the chip. Anyone could sneak up on him now. He’d never sense them coming.
So why did he feel a presence?
‘Hardlight deactivate,’ Lorne snapped as he jumped off the seat.
The bar on his weights machine blinked out of existence. Cursing once more, he grabbed his coat and left the room. The coat’s fur lining sealed in around his loose workout clothes at the touch of a button, but it was nowhere near as snug as the voice-activated boots he shoved his feet into. Lorne unclipped his preferred lasgun from its mount and hefted the weapon, a heavy model that required two hands to hold, and felt his shoulder ache in protest.
He gritted his teeth. It had been too long since he’d been in the field. Too long since he’d had to take on galactic criminals. Too long since he’d dug the chip out of his own temple rather than wait for the Agency to carefully remove it for him.
The door slid aside at his barked command. Cold air immediately rushed him like a stream of lasgun bolts. Unrelenting, it struck his face and swept over his lips, trying to steal the breath from his lungs.
He refused to let it.
Lorne caught his reflection in the plexiglass when he turned to make sure the door had shut behind him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shaved and it showed. Despite this, he smiled. The dark stubble had suited him ever since he’d first started growing facial hair. He liked the way it strengthened his jaw and how it never transformed into a wild beard, no matter how long he left it.
Disgusted with his vanity, Lorne shook his head and shifted his attention back to his surroundings, wary of the encompassing silence. He took a step down from the verandah and cast his hazel eyes across the horizon.
‘Where are you, you little shit?’ he muttered. ‘Or are you that phantom sensation the Agency’s medical personnel warned me about?’
‘Well, I can be everywhere at once, if I choose to be,’ a feminine-sounding voice answered him. ‘But for the purposes of our conversation, I am right behind you.’
Lorne spun around and fired off a shot before he was even aware of his finger tensing on the trigger. A horrified gasp peeled his lips apart. Had he just killed someone?
But the intruder remained right where she was, amusement written over her soft features. The lasbolt hovered in the air between them for a few moments more, then sprang away into the atmosphere.
Her temples were bare of any bumps that might house a chip, but he hadn’t expected to see any. No agent of GLEA could create a defensive forcefield without extending their hands to guide the output of energy — and no Chipper could manage to do that inside a single nanosecond. He was standing in the presence of one of the divine children of the Creator God.
Lorne’s knees hit the ground. The lasgun swiftly followed.
‘Renaei, my goddess,’ he breathed. ‘How may I serve you?’
‘Stand up, Lorne,’ she said.
His eyes burned with tears as he obeyed her. She had used his real name, the name that most of his family was incapable of remembering. Lorne’s father had always been careful to use it, but Jon Lavine was long dead and his ashes were in some other relative’s keeping, forever out of reach. The only thing Lorne had left of his father was this house, despite his family’s attempts to steal it for themselves. They’d failed. The Galactic Database listed his name as Lorne Lavine and so had the will. There was no misinterpreting that. It didn’t hurt that he’d had GLEA on his side at the time.
Lorne knew he should keep his gaze averted, but he couldn’t. Gods, Renaei was even more beautiful in person than in his distorted childhood memories. Those stunning green eyes, as dark and mysterious as the moss growing on the nearby rocks, captured him anew. Those long golden locks that flowed down past her shoulders shone as brightly as the bangles on her wrists. That smile, so full of warmth, could have vaporised the clouds gathering overhead. And those generous curves, accentuated by the white dress clinging to her form, invited more than the caress of his eyes.
She was perfect.
‘Are you capable of having a coherent conversation right now?’ his goddess asked, one eyebrow raised.
‘I…’ Lorne cast around for something to say; nothing came to him.
He shook his head.
Laughing, Renaei flounced past him and then swung back around, a hand propped up on her hip. ‘You should invite me inside and make me breakfast. It’s the least you can do for the goddess who saved your life once — especially since you just tried to shoot her!’
‘Yes, of course,’ Lorne managed.
He barely remembered to pick up the lasgun on his way in.
• • •
Renaei, goddess of every type of tundra imaginable, took command of the gas burner after Lorne gave her the remaining ptarmigan eggs and strips of muskox meat he’d kept in his fridge. The mortal then sank onto a nearby stool, gratefully relinquishing the task of making breakfast to her.
Renaei liked the earthy colour scheme of the kitchen — even the stools and appliances complemented the muted granite benches. This made the room feel very homely despite its expansive size. Clearly it was intended for a party consisting of more than just one man.
Renaei set a plate loaded with food in front of Lorne. When he stared at it, she gestured impatiently. ‘I believe it’s edible. This isn’t my first time with a spatula, Lorne.’
Lorne sighed and relented. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you, Renaei.’
She rewarded him with a smile. Renaei was known in the Galactic Pantheon as the Tirine, a title given to her by the Ine (or the Creator God, as her father was known to the mortals). Her siblings used their titles or other assumed names around their followers, but Renaei hated the lack of intimacy that resulted from
this practice. Every soul who worshipped her had been given her true name and knew only to use it when they desperately needed her help.
This man had adhered to that rule all his life. But he had sought her in other ways.
Just as she had sought him.
Lorne speared a strip of crispy meat with his fork and brought it to his lips. He chewed, his hazel eyes distant, then swallowed. Surprise flashed across his expression and his mind was filled with a pleasant glow. It didn’t last long, but Renaei relished every moment of it.
She had always appreciated inheriting both telekinesis and mind-reading abilities from her father, but some of the heads she peered into contained some pretty nasty stuff.
Lorne’s mind had never been like that.
‘I hope you didn’t join GLEA just because you thought being close to my father would help you get close to me,’ Renaei said, allowing a frown to cut through her sunny expression. The Chippers believed they could reach the Creator God by inserting chips into their temples. The Ine, for whatever reason, had humoured them and had even allowed the tech to grant the mortals weaker versions of his lowest abilities.
‘No. That’s not why.’ Lorne cleared his throat a couple of times. ‘I mean, that’s only one reason. I wanted to help people. Save people. The way you saved me.’
‘And there’s no other reason you enlisted?’ Renaei prompted gently.
Lorne set his fork down. ‘You already know.’
‘Since we’re going to be spending so much time together,’ Renaei told him, ‘we really ought to speak as equals — and not as worshipper and goddess. So let’s pretend I don’t know.’
The former Chipper linked his shaking hands together on the counter. He kept them anchored there as a single fist, his emotions tightening into a ball as he controlled his anger. ‘My family refused to accept who I was. What I needed to do. Dad didn’t have the funds to help me, Creator God knows he wanted to, so I joined GLEA. They pay for all of your medical expenses. Even the elective surgeries,’ he added, visibly annoyed by the term. To him they had been the very opposite of elective.
‘That should have told your family something,’ Renaei muttered. When he looked up at her, startled, she clarified, ‘Well, they insisted that you should be forced to accept the body you were born with. But GLEA, those closest to my father, had no issue with you obtaining the form that suits you best.’
Lorne’s lip twisted. ‘My relatives believe the Agency only helped me transition because they needed more bodies to fill out their ranks. Maybe they’re right. I hope not.’
‘No,’ Renaei said firmly. ‘That’s not why the Chippers helped you. I know.’
‘Doesn’t matter now, does it? I had my own problems with GLEA in the end.’
Renaei inclined her head towards him. ‘It also upsets me that the Agency now pressures its agents into marrying and breeding. I imagine it’s because they want a steady supply of recruits.’
‘Yeah, your contribution to that supply is the most important thing in your file when they consider you for promotion,’ Lorne said in disgust. He blinked. ‘Shit. How is it I’m speaking to you so casually? You’re my starking goddess.’
She laughed and danced around the counter towards him, reaching over to swipe some of the food from his plate. He flinched. Renaei swiftly took several steps back until he relaxed. Reminding herself to be patient with him, she said, ‘My sisters say I’m too friendly with you mortals. But I’d rather treat you as dear friends instead of servants.’
‘You said…we would be spending time together,’ Lorne said quietly.
‘Yes! Oh yes, I should get to that.’ Renaei licked the grease from her fingers. She didn’t miss his eyes following the movement of her tongue. ‘I need a bodyguard.’
He stared at her.
Renaei stared right back.
Finally, he said, ‘But you’re a goddess. You don’t need a bodyguard. You don’t need…me.’
‘I hate to ruin this perfect image you have of me, but we sub-level gods are not invulnerable,’ Renaei said, chuckling. ‘Immortal, sure. But a well-aimed lasbolt can actually take us out.’
Lorne’s eyes widened. He wasn’t just surprised by this new knowledge; he was surprised that she’d shared it with him. His pride at being given her trust created a warm thrum inside his mind, but it didn’t quite manage to unseat the feeling that he was not worthy of her attention or her presence — her gorgeous, distracting presence. Despite all his attempts not to, he was imagining her naked.
‘Please tell me you can’t read minds,’ he said after a moment.
Renaei grinned. ‘I can’t tell you that. But I can assure you that I look way more awesome than you’ve pictured since you were a teenager with your hand beneath the covers.’
‘Why do you need a bodyguard, Renaei?’ he asked, holding her gaze, his breakfast forgotten. ‘You have telekinetic abilities that outstrip anything a Chipper could simulate with their forcefields.’
Renaei nodded. ‘But I can still be overwhelmed.’
‘And are you heading into a situation where you might be overwhelmed?’
Renaei appraised him for a long moment. His tone was now very similar to the one he’d used when delivering orders to the agents under his command. And he was already sorting through the scraps of information she had given him, trying to assemble them in his mind.
Good. She needed him functional.
‘My enemy’s powers are more than a match for my own,’ she answered vaguely.
He wasn’t fooled for a nanosecond. ‘Another sub-level god? Then you’re going to need more than just one bodyguard. You’re going to need several.’
‘It’s a good thing I picked someone with a background of training others,’ Renaei remarked.
‘Funny that,’ Lorne said, humour threading through his words. He slid off the stool. ‘I’ll need to pack some clothes. Equipment. Weapons.’
‘Just a moment, Lorne,’ Renaei said. ‘You’ll need something else first.’
He waited patiently, arms loose by his sides, and didn’t move away when she reached for him, two fingers aimed for each temple.
Skin met skin. She whispered an apology.
And then she flooded her power into him, raw and potent, enough to make him gasp in pain.
It wasn’t unheard of, to do something like this. Sandsa, the Desine and god of the deserts, gave a small measure of power to every single follower born inside his domain. Most sub-level gods refused to share themselves in this way. Sandsa did it because he wanted his people to be able to defend themselves against the Chippers, whom he regarded with disdain and sometimes fury because of their connection to his father.
Renaei had many reasons to choose Lorne, some of which she wouldn’t admit to, but she was quite willing to justify her choice by pointing out that he had already learned discipline and was no stranger to mental-based abilities.
But even he was overwhelmed by the sudden influx of power. He fell against her, a dead weight. Startled, Renaei used her abilities to catch him and quickly stepped aside, holding him up telekinetically until his limbs regained their strength.
When he could finally move, he sagged onto his knees, a cute mixture of bewilderment and awe sweeping over his face. ‘My goddess…how can I thank you?’
‘By doing your job,’ Renaei said.
‘I can do that,’ he promised.
CHAPTER TWO
Rain slapped his head and shoulders with the force of relentless hands. Not to be outdone, the cold cyclonic wind howled and struck him so hard it was like being hit with a hovercar.
He kept his lips sealed, refusing to unleash the scream buried inside him. For over an hour, he had survived on a boulder smothered with slippery lichen, but if the water rose any higher it would reach his ankles or, worse, his knees. The raging torrent was strong enough to yank him down and carry him away, battering his tiny body against the rocks as it went.
His long brown pigtails, kept attached to his scalp by the
will of his mother, lashed his back as he swung his gaze around, desperate for the clouds to break apart, for the storm to stop.
But it had no intention of stopping.
And his fear might claim him before the inky water ever did.
He was a thin, pale waif, so insignificant compared to the gales that were trying to topple him. The dress he wore beneath his coat was tattered and torn and now so wet it was only making him colder. He should have stayed inside, with his siblings and his cousins, but he’d had to show them, had to prove he could survive a night alone in the wilderness.
They’d said he couldn’t do it, because he was the youngest of them, only nine years old — and he was weak because he was a girl. Lorne had tried to argue that on other planets far from Velde it didn’t matter, that girls could fight and even pilot starships, but that wasn’t the real reason they taunted Lorne.
He had dared to say he wasn’t a girl at all. They had laughed and bruised him.
So he had marched out into the icy darkness, armed only with a coat, oversized boots and a pair of gloves. Lorne knew he’d lasted longer out here than any of his relatives ever had. He didn’t need a tent when he could use tiny outcroppings for shelter. He didn’t need a pack of provisions when he could scrape moss from the rocks for his dinner. And that same moss could become a warm blanket if you found a thick enough patch of it.
He had hoped that his family would realise he was missing. They were supposed to come find him and be so impressed with his skills that they would finally stop calling him Lorna.
But the storm had found him instead.
Gritting his teeth, he told himself he wasn’t giving up. It stung his pride to do this, but he’d rather fail than lose his life.
He would use Renaei’s name, just as he’d been taught to do ever since he was a baby. Everyone in his family knew they lived under the protection of a goddess who loved and cared for them all. Human, Jezlo, Unandan, boy, girl, whoever you were — it didn’t matter. Her love knew no bounds.
And that’s why he loved her back.
The Galactic Pantheon Novellas Page 19