Fetish of the Crimson Goddess

James Abraham Carter

The colossal, sapphire-hued gas giant, Kepler-1649b, filled Race Bellingham’s viewport, a breathtaking stellar sentinel guarding its smaller, Earth-like sibling, Kepler-1649c. Race’s landing module, a sleek dart of durasteel and ceramic, hummed with a low thrum as it pierced the ochre-tinted upper atmosphere of the prime target. Below him, clouds parted like colossal draperies, revealing a landscape bathed in the mellow, golden light of its binary suns. Excitement, a rare and potent cocktail of adrenaline and awe, surged through him. He was the first human to set foot on an extrasolar planet, 300 light-years from Earth in the constellation Cygnus.

Above him, in synchronous orbit, waited the Valiant, his home for the last year, a gleaming spearhead of human expansion. Its mission was exploration, and its advanced instruments had detected tantalizing evidence of a Bronze Age civilization on 1649c. But Captain Maris Carstairs, ever mindful of Earth’s grim history of first contact, had issued strict orders: avoid interaction. Race’s assignment was a solo venture into a remote, uninhabited region – gather mineral samples, collect botanical specimens, and be back on board in precisely two hours. No deviations. The stakes were impossibly high. Due to draconian budget cuts, the Valiant possessed only one descent module. If anything went wrong, he was stranded. Alone.

The module shuddered, its repulsion torus flaring with controlled power as it settled silently onto a vast savanna. The ground was a carpet of fern-like plants, their fronds unfurling in shades of deep emerald and startling violet. In the distance, a range of low jade-hued hills shimmered under the alien suns. “Touchdown confirmed, Valiant,” Race reported, his voice crisp despite the tremor of anticipation. “Scan complete. No dangerous life forms detected. Atmosphere breathable. Exiting module now.”

He cycled through the airlock, the alien air, blissfully fresh and oxygen-rich, filling his open helmet. Stepping onto the foreign soil, he felt a profound connection to the countless explorers who had come before him, yet an even greater sense of pioneering solitude. Thirty feet from his module was a grotesque tree 60 feet in height, one of many others of its kind that dominated the landscape. Its trunk was thick and gnarled, and its long, arching, serrated leaves were reminiscent of a terrestrial aloe tree. Protruding horizontally from its bole were strange, tubular growths. Intrigued, Race began to approach, his bio-scanner already whirring.

He was so engrossed that he failed to see the dark rock camouflaged by the ferns. His boot caught, and he pitched forward in an undignified sprawl. It saved his life. Before he could even grunt in surprise, one of the tree's tubes roared, spitting a projectile that screamed past where his head had been moments before. It struck his landing module. Not just struck it – it slammed into the power cells, a direct hit. The world erupted in a thunderous, concussive roar. Heat washed over him even through his armored spacesuit as the module disintegrated in a maelstrom of fire and twisted metal, a furious, blinding flare against the vibrant alien sky.

Race lay stunned, the ringing in his ears slowly giving way to a dreadful silence. His spacesuit, designed to withstand meteoroid impacts, had miraculously protected him from the immediate blast. But the module, his only way home, was gone. Utterly, irrevocably annihilated. The two-hour mission schedule had turned into an eternity. Marooned. The word echoed in his mind, cold and desolate.

He slowly crawled away from the deadly tree lest his presence again trigger its biological cannons. Then, when he was at a considerable distance, he pushed himself up, his body aching and his mind reeling. The air around him still shimmered faintly with residual heat. He didn't look back at the smoldering crater. Panicking wouldn't help. Giving in wouldn't help. His suit, though intact, was compromised; its life-support systems were malfunctioning. With grim resolve, he began to strip it off, shedding the useless bulk. Beneath, he wore a light, form-fitting explorer’s suit – all he had left. He looked toward the distant hills, a promise of shelter, of something more than this vast, empty savanna. He started walking.

About an hour later, he discovered the reason for the strange tree’s biological cannons. A herd of enormous six-limbed beasts was crossing his path about 200 yards away, forcing him to halt his march. They resembled elephants in general body shape and size. Their heads, however, were beaked and more like those of a parrot. There was no trunk. Evolution had modified the forelimbs to arms with claws like those of a crab, and the body, like that of a crustacean, was sheathed in a tough integument.

One of the young and inexperienced creatures wandered too close to a grove of the aloe-like trees. Their biological cannons thundered with the fury of a broadside. Multiple projectiles slammed into the calf. It bellowed and ran back to its mother, stung but still very much alive. The whole herd stampeded in a wild panic. Race was also in a panic; the frightened beasts were heading directly toward him with terrifying rapidity.

The ground trembled. Race dashed aside, heart pounding, praying he could get clear in time. The monstrous creatures were almost upon him when he made a desperate leap. His body crashed to the earth. The rushing behemoths hurtled past. The soil shook with their swift passage, terrifyingly near. They thundered toward the horizon, vanishing in a cloud of choking dust. Race lay for a while, coughing and slowly recovering from the harrowing ordeal. He had been within a few feet of being trampled to death. It had been a frighteningly close escape. Slowly, he stood, brushed off the dirt, and continued on his way.

He had perhaps covered another mile when a low, rhythmic thudding vibrated through the soil. Fear returned, sharp and fast. Had the beasts come back? He looked up, squinting. To his astonishment, a figure, blurrily fast, was rapidly approaching from the direction of the hills. It was a different kind of danger - an alien woman, her skin had a rich coppery tint, her hair a cascade of black braids adorned with iridescent beads. The woman wore a brief brown loincloth and nothing else. She rode a reptilian quadruped, a creature of sinuous muscle and scaled hide that moved with astonishing speed, its head adorned with a crest of bony frills. As she spotted him, a wild, guttural cry erupted from her throat, and she spurred her frightening mount into a terrifying charge.

Race, unarmed and exposed, instinctively turned to flee. He pumped his legs; the strange ferns whipped against his shins. But the reptilian mount was too fast. A blur of movement, and then something coiled around his legs. Bolas. Weighted cords spun with deadly precision. He stumbled, falling hard. He thrashed in panic, trying to untangle himself; the coarse fibers cut into his skin. He was almost free when the woman, with terrifying agility, leaped from her mount. She was upon him in an instant, a whirlwind of strength and violence.

Race fought back. They grappled fiercely, their muscles straining mightily as each sought an advantage. The woman grunted in surprise at his strength, at his unexpected resistance. The Earthman battled with all his power in a wild, desperate fight, but her strength was brutal, and her skill was honed by years of combat. The woman flung him across her hip, and he crashed heavily to the ground. Now stunned and unable to resist, his hands were swiftly bound tightly behind his back. Without ceremony, she hoisted him with surprising ease, tossing him unceremoniously over the withers of her mount, as if he were nothing but a sack of grain. His captor mounted her strange steed, and the world became a dizzying blur of copper skin, reptilian scales, and rhythmic thudding as they swiftly rode.

When he caught his breath, Race tried to talk to her. “I mean you no harm,” he gasped. “I’m not your enemy.” Of course, he knew she wouldn’t understand him, but he hoped his tone would convey something of his meaning. The woman, however, merely grunted in response and cuffed him into silence with a heavy blow.

Race kept quiet, suppressing his anger. He had to think clearly. At the moment, he was helpless. Any resistance would invite further acts of violence. The Earthman smiled a bitter smile. Captain Carstairs had been worried about humans posing a threat to the planet’s indigenous people. But here he was a prisoner, not a conqueror. It was all rather ironic. Race observed the woman, trying to understand what kind of person had captured him. If it hadn’t been for her perpetual scowl, as if she viewed the entire world as a threat, he felt she might be attractive. Her glower made her look older than she was. If human standards were any guide, she appeared to be about twenty.

The Earthman continued his speculations as they rode. It was a long and agonizing journey across the undulating landscape, the suns dipping lower, painting the sky in fiery oranges and deep purples. Race’s muscles screamed; his head swam with dizziness. Finally, the terrain grew rocky, and the reptilian mount picked its way through a narrow canyon, hidden from view. Then, with a sudden turn, the world opened.

Race gasped, wonder seizing him despite his predicament. Before him, nestled in a hidden valley, was a city unlike anything he could have imagined. Towers of jade-like stone, impossibly tall and slender, gleamed under the twilight. They were interconnected by a labyrinthine network of aerial bridges, suspended walkways that defied gravity, their surfaces gleaming with intricate carvings. The Valiant's sensors had never detected this metropolis, likely due to the natural shielding provided by the surrounding mineral-rich rocks. This was the city of Zuan.

Surrounding the city was a forest whose trees were identical to the aloe-like growth that had destroyed his module. Lance tensed as his captor guided her reptilian mount onto a dirt roadway leading into the forest, and as she did so, the nervous Earthman saw that the path split into numerous branches that created a vast, confusing maze. He was later to learn that only one route was safe and that to deviate from it would bring instant death. The strange trees had pressure-sensitive roots, and stepping on one would activate their biological cannon.

After traversing a circuitous route, they arrived at the imposing gates of the city, and from there he was taken directly to the largest tower, its pinnacle piercing the sky. The entire structure, like its neighbors, was covered in flowing arabesques of strange forms and enigmatic symbols. His captor dragged him through ornate archways and along winding passages, ascending higher and higher until they reached the top floor – a vast, echoing chamber bathed in the soft glow of luminous rock crystals, a strange, unearthly mineral unique to the planet.

There, on a raised dais, sat a figure of cold authority. Her eyes, the color of obsidian, swept over Race, a flicker of curiosity in their depths. Taxan, High Priestess of the Crimson Goddess and ruler of Zuan was not a woman to be trifled with. Her face was beautiful; her skin was fair, and her golden hair caught the light wonderfully. But in her hand, she held a small whip with a gem-encrusted handle. It was the symbol of her authority and hinted at the cruelty hidden behind her beautiful facade. Taxan spoke. Her voice was low and resonant, carrying a touch of fire smoldering in its depths. 

“Umidra, what manner of strange creature is this?” she asked, her sharp gaze focused on the Earthman. “It looks like a man, but one far more muscular than any I have ever seen before and also oddly colored. Where did you capture it?”

“About a thousand hadii from our city,” replied Umidra. “It is definitely male, and it put up a fight. That is why I brought it here. We must question it and find out if there are more of its kind. They may pose a threat.”

Taxan laughed with harsh, dismissive contempt. “A man who fights? What nonsense is this? We all know that men are weak, timid creatures, not warriors. I fear you have chewed on one orus root too many, my dear sister.”

Umidra bristled. “My mind is unaffected by intoxicants,” she hissed, “or are you calling me a liar?”

Taxan’s eyes narrowed dangerously. She rose to her full height, her temper flaring like a blazing furnace. “I can call you anything I like,” she spat.

Race backed away, alarmed. A calm situation had suddenly erupted with the fury of an exploding volcano. The two women began to hiss and snarl at each other, their faces becoming more bestial than human, their fingers curving like the claws of savage predators. In an instant, both leapt at each other like pouncing cats, screeching, clawing, and biting with all the savagery of enraged felines in a brutal display of animalistic viciousness.

The two grappled furiously, staggering wildly around the room. Umidra was the better fighter. She seized an opening and hurled Taxan to the floor. The High Priestess rolled, snatched up the whip she had cast aside. The lash cracked brutally. Umidra screamed as the leather savagely struck her breasts. She fell to the floor. Taxan, a crazed expression on her face, struck again in a frenzy of sadistic rage, the flying lash leaving ugly welts on her howling younger sister’s body.

Race had seen enough. Memories of a brutal childhood flooded back as if it were just yesterday and spurred him into action. Despite his hands being tied behind his back and without thought of any danger to himself, he raced forward. His foot lashed out. It connected solidly and sent the whip flying from Taxan’s hand. The Earthman braced himself for attack, expecting to be set upon with unabated fury, but the High Priestess merely looked at him in surprise. It was as if a switch in her brain had been flipped from crazy to reasonably sane.

Taxan, her head tilted like a bird, considered him for a long moment as he stood in tense readiness, then she turned to her sister, who lay on the floor gasping, her bleeding body trembling with pain. “You will teach this man our language.” she commanded. “He intrigues me. He is not at all like our males.”

Umidra, despite her agony, glared hatred and defiance at her sister. “I am a woman, not a man. I will not debase myself by doing the work of a man.”

Taxan smiled coldly as she held up the bloody whip. “You will do as I say, or I will tear the flesh from your bones. Submit or die in agony.”

Umidra lowered her eyes. Hatred still burned, but common sense prevailed. “I submit,” she replied, the abject words as bitter as gall on her proud tongue.

“Good. Take the man to your quarters. Commence the lessons at once. Now go.”

Painfully, Umidra climbed to her feet. She glared at Race. The fact that she had been whipped was bad enough, but it was a double humiliation that a mere man had come to her rescue and no doubt saved her from being flogged to death.

She beckoned to him with a snarl. Race, not eager but seeing that he had no choice, followed her. They left the room and moved down a level via a broad staircase, then along a hallway that ended in a stone door that revolved on a vertical axis. Umidra pulled a set of bronze levers in combination, and the door rotated open. She grabbed Race and roughly thrust him through the opening.

The Earthman stumbled into a room that was as Spartan as his harsh captor. There were a few items of furniture: solid, heavy, and made of black wood resembling ebony. The only ornamentation was geometrical friezes where the walls met the ceiling and floor. Umidra sank painfully onto a stool by a large medicine chest, part of every warrior’s military paraphernalia. She glared at Race, then pointed at herself. “Umidra,” she growled, and then thrust an interrogative finger at the Earthman.

“Race,” he responded as she began to tend to her wounds, and thus his language lessons inauspiciously commenced.

**********

The next six months were a blur of frustration, slow progress, and unexpected revelations. Umidra was a harsh teacher; her contempt for Race thinly veiled. She would bark words at him, demonstrating their meaning with exaggerated gestures, her fiery personality always on display. Race, however, was no stranger to adversity. He applied himself with dogged determination, his survival depending on it. He learned Zuanese slowly at first, then with increasing fluency, starting with basic words and then moving to grammar and complex concepts.

As his understanding grew, so too did his comprehension of the society in which he found himself. It was a matriarchy, absolute and brutal. Women held all positions of power, from warrior to priestess, while men were relegated to a subordinate, almost invisible status. They performed all those tasks that were considered beneath the dignity of women, rarely spoke unless the task demanded it, and were often treated with casual cruelty, objects of derision rather than partners. What shocked Race most was the males’ utter passivity. They were timid, incapable of violence, even in self-defense. This stark contrast to Earth’s gender dynamics was jarring.

Umidra, in her strange way, eventually started to answer his questions. One evening, they were sitting on the balcony of her apartment, gazing at the heavens when she opened up, prompted by the nighttime sky.

“Many generations ago,” she began, “a star fell from the heavens. It floated down from the sky and gently landed near our city. A herdsman saw and found the star - a crystalline cube, glowing with an internal, pulsating crimson light. It was enshrined in our temple, revered as the sacred fetish of the Crimson Goddess, a gift from her as a sign that we are her chosen people.” 

Umidra continued, her expression becoming thoughtful as she spoke, explaining that ever since the star’s arrival all those centuries ago, everything had changed. The women, once balanced in their temperament, had become fiercely aggressive, their instincts honed to hyper-violence. The men, conversely, had lost their fighting spirit, becoming utterly non-violent, almost inert.

Race didn’t understand every word, but his knowledge of the language was now sufficient for him to grasp the essentials, and his scientific mind clicked. The “star” couldn’t be a meteorite; the way it had descended precluded that. But it was definitely some form of extraterrestrial object. The crimson glow wasn’t divine light but a strange, unearthly radiation. This radiation, localized and potent, had subtly and insidiously altered the neurochemistry of the Zuanese people, transforming their very nature over generations. It was a terrifying, accidental experiment, and he was now caught in its awful results. That he hadn’t been affected was probably due to his human physiology.

Race attempted to explain his conclusions to Umidra, putting into words as best he could what he sensed she was subconsciously aware of - that the star was not a blessing but a curse on her people. He was prepared for anger, possibly violence, but her reaction was atypical. To his amazement, she placed her hands over her ears and ran from the room. Long-held religious beliefs are not easily overturned, and his expression of her suppressed doubts proved to be too much for her.

But even as this grim realization settled, something else profound was gradually happening. Race’s good-natured charm, his unwavering politeness, and his genuine curiosity began to chip away at Umidra’s warrior shell. He saw beyond her fierce demeanor, glimpsing a softer side, a pragmatic intelligence, and a hidden weariness with the endless aggression that pervaded daily life. He shared stories of Earth, of equality, of a world where men and women lived as partners. She, in turn, confided in him about her hatred of Taxan and her tyrannical rule. It was the afternoon of the sixth month of Race’s captivity when a fundamental change occurred in their relationship.

It was late in the afternoon when Umidra walked stiffly into the apartment they shared. She had been out all day hunting and was feeling the effects of the hard ride, the vigorous chase, and the extreme barehanded wrestling of the visgox, a horned cat-like creature, into submission to prove her strength before her warrior peers. Umidra remembered it well, savoring her victory. She had spurred her scaly mount ahead of her competitors, yelling wildly. Her dangerous prey had swerved one way and then the other, as swift and sinuous as a twisting serpent, but she had clung to it like a shadow.

The distance closed, the visgox was visibly tiring. The dodging creature became the focus of her vision. She urged her mount closer, nearer still, her face alive with savage determination. The thing turned its head. Its mouth gaped in an awful snarl, displaying rows of razor-sharp teeth in dire warning. Undeterred, Umidra spun her bolas and hurled the weapon. The whirling weighted cords wrapped chokingly around the racing creature’s neck. It coughed and slowed its mad pace. Umidra leaped from her mount in a wild dive and caught its wicked horns. Her feet hit the ground, finding purchase. Using the beast’s horns as leverage and with a surge of muscle-cracking strength, she rotated the visgox’s head, hauling it back toward its powerful shoulders. Unbalanced, the beast crashed to the earth in a cloud of dust. Its claws scrabbled madly as it yowled. Umidra further twisted its head with all her mighty strength. The thing hissed in pain. It slowly settled, its sides heaving like bellows, its fierce eyes dulling with defeat. Umidra’s companions rode up and, with grunts of approval, acknowledged her victory.

Race, who had been reading a scroll devoted to unarmed combat in an effort to improve his literacy, looked up as she sagged onto a stool, tired, sore, and begrimed. She stared at the Earthman, considering, and he could tell that there were conflicting emotions at play within her. “I need your help,” she said at last in a rare admission. “I’m too tired and sore to clean myself on my own. You will assist me.”

Race was somewhat taken aback by her command. Umidra was very particular about not allowing him to touch her, even in the most innocent way. The fact that she had asked for his help was a clear indication of how badly she was feeling. Uncleanliness was a sin to her people, and so it was natural that she was eager to remove the grime from her body with all haste, and this desire outweighed her aversion to the contact it would entail.

“If that is your wish,” Race cautiously replied, “then I will help you.”

Umidra rose painfully, and they entered the bathroom, which was a small area waterproofed with a kind of plaster. There was no shower or bath. Instead, a long stone block occupied the chamber. There was a spigot on one wall with a copper bucket underneath it. A shelf above the spigot held a variety of bottles. The floor was rough to prevent slipping, and it sloped to a drain in a corner of the room.

As Race took a bottle from the shelf Umidra undressed. He could tell she was uneasy about being completely naked in front of him, so he was careful not to look directly at her as she lay face down on the block. The liquid in the bottle wasn’t soap, but it served the same purpose, and he began to rub the scented, foaming fluid onto her back. Race could feel the tension in her muscles. Compassion for her came upon him. Her society was grim and loveless. There was cooperation, but no deep friendships; the hyper-aggression of the women prevented that, and the men were all but neutered.

What started as a perfunctory ablution transformed to an act of kindness as he began to massage her with skilled fingers. As his hands slowly moved over her shoulders, back and limbs, he began to feel the tension fade from her body, and saw the scowl that often marred her face vanish utterly. It was then that he saw how truly attractive she actually was.

His hands paused their work as he stared. Umidra opened her eyes and looked at him, reading his expression. Never before had a man touched her in this way. She rolled on her back, highly aroused, her eyes languid with desire.

“There is more to my body than my back,” she said huskily as she spread herself for him in invitation.

Race, who had not been with a woman for a considerable time saw her need was a great as his. His gentle fingers began exploring her body, intrigued by her alien femininity. Her nipples changed color as he stroked them, becoming a rich amber hue, as did her vulva when his questing fingers entered her. Umidra moaned in pleasure. Her breathing quickened as her excitement swiftly grew. She climaxed convulsively, her body flashing with all the colors of the rainbow as her orgasm peaked.

Race quickly stripped as Umidra lay on the block, her eyes closed and her body trembling in the aftermath of the exquisite experience. She gripped him intensely as he entered her with vigorous thrusts. Her legs rose into the air, shaking. She screamed, a long, drawn-out cry of wild pleasure, waves of color washing over her. Race also climaxed, and she felt his satisfying warmth flooding her as she went limp with a sigh of contented exhaustion.

They lay together, relishing the experience; and a bond forged in captivity and reluctant tutelage blossomed into something deeper, something profound. Race had fallen in love with Umidra, the fierce warrior woman who, despite her training, was not as dominated by the star’s influence as the others.

Above them, Taxan also moaned as she peered through the spyhole in the bathroom ceiling, her fingers buried deeply in her dripping slit, her face alive with a dangerous mix of jealousy and desire.

**********

Taxan’s summons came a few minutes later. Race, now proficient in Zuanese, was escorted by Umidra to her presence once more. The High Priestess, however, was no longer merely curious. After witnessing the bathroom scene, she was now infatuated with Race, her obsidian eyes gleaming with a possessive and urgent desire. She spoke to him directly, her voice husky, offering him a position of honor, a place by her side. Her gestures were languid and seductive.

“Am I not desirable,” Taxan concluded as she pushed aside her garment and with legs wide open, spread her slit for him.

But Race’s gaze drifted to Umidra, who stood rigidly at his side, her expression unreadable. He felt nothing for Taxan but a chilling apprehension. He chose his words carefully.

“I am not worthy of the honor you seek to bestow upon me,” he said. “You are the High Priestess of a mighty city. Your mate should be equal to your status, not a lowly commoner such as I.”

Taxan’s eyes narrowed, keen as a predator. She had seen the subtle glances, the unspoken connection between Race and Umidra, and sensed the stinging rejection hidden in his diplomatic words. Her face contorted, her carefully cultivated composure shattering in a fit of pure, unadulterated jealous rage. She screamed, her voice echoing through the chamber, “Seize them! Both of them! The man shall die for rejecting me; my sister shall die for turning him against me. I am the incarnation of divinity. To reject me is to reject the Goddess. They shall be sacrificed as a fitting punishment for their crimes!”

Female guards, their faces grim, moved swiftly. Race cursed. Umidra drew her sword. A wild fight, swift and furious, erupted. The Earthman slammed his fist against one leaping woman’s jaw. Down she went, only to be quickly replaced by another rushing foe. Umidra lunged at an opponent. Their blades locked, they grappled furiously. Race was likewise valiantly wrestling with his attacker. But another rushing warrior leaped onto his back, felling him to the floor with her furious strength. He glimpsed Umidra also fall beneath the weight of three opponents, struggling wildly to the last.

The couple’s hands were bound. They were dragged from the tower, through the jade city, and toward the temple of the Crimson Goddess. It was a massive, cubical building of grim black stone, stark and ominous against the dying light of day. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of incense and an oppressive, ancient power.

In the center of the vast, cavernous space, illuminated by glowing crystals, stood the idol of the Crimson Goddess. It squatted on a carved plinth, its vacant eyes staring unnervingly. In its hands, and balanced on its knees, it clutched the glowing crystalline cube, the very “star” that had warped this world. Umidra was forced against a pillar near the idol. From the shadows came priestesses who manacled her hands to a metal band encircling the column, while others placed restraints around her ankles. Despite death hovering, Umidra maintained a quiet dignity, her fear well hidden. Race was held back by two hulking warrior women, forced to watch helplessly as Taxan, a ritual dagger gleaming ominously in her hand, approached the woman that he loved.

With a single vicious wrench, the High Priestess tore away Umidra’s loincloth and glared with raging hatred at her younger sister. “Now you die,” she snarled, “but your end shall be neither quick nor pleasant. I’ll shove this dagger in your slit and slowly slice you open.”

“But at least I will die knowing love,” replied Umidra defiantly, “something that you will never know, and there is nothing you can do to change this fact.”

The High Priestess screeched, her face aflame with demented jealousy as she prepared to thrust home the dagger, its cruel point poised over Umidra’s naked loins. Race’s world contracted to a single, agonizing moment. The woman he loved was about to be butchered. A primal roar tore from his throat. He strained against his bonds, a surge of adrenaline granting him almost superhuman strength. The thin cord snapped. He broke free of the surprised guards, and with a desperate lunge, hurled himself at Taxan.

Race tackled the High Priestess, bowling her over. The dagger flew from her grasp. He scrambled, snatching it up. His eyes darted from Umidra to the glowing cube. He knew. Knew with a sudden, terrifying certainty. This was the source. This was the curse. With a guttural yell, he spun, ignoring the charging guards, and hurled the dagger with all his might. It was not aimed at Taxan. It was aimed at the star.

The hurtling dagger struck the ancient crystal with an ear-splitting crack. The cube, the fetish of the Crimson Goddess, shattered. A blinding flash of crimson energy erupted thunderously outward like jagged lightning. One bolt, brighter and more focused than the rest, arced through the air, striking Taxan, who was just rising from the floor. The High Priestess screamed. Her charred corpse crashed onto the tiles. The temple plunged into silence, broken only by the humming afterglow of the dissipated energy.

Race snatched up the keys from the floor, knocked from Taxan’s belt when he had tackled her, and rushed to Umidra, unlocking her manacles. As he freed her, he looked around. A profound change had swept through the temple. The warrior women, who moments before had been snarling and battle-crazed, now stood frozen, their stances softened, their eyes wide not with fury but with dawning bewilderment. The wild fierceness had vanished, replaced by an unfamiliar calm.

Umidra, freed, looked at Race, then at the shattered remnants of the cube, and then at her people. A new light entered her eyes – not the old fire, but a clear, resolute determination. Now liberated from the star’s malignant influence, she saw that Race’s conclusions about the crystalline cube were correct. Umidra turned to the assembly; her voice, though still strong, now carried a new resonance, devoid of its former aggression.

“The Fetish of the Crimson Goddess has been revealed for the evil that it was,” Umidra proclaimed, her voice echoing in the temple, “and its power is now broken. No longer shall we be slaves to its influence, nor to the tyranny it bred!” She looked at Race, her hand finding his. “I am Umidra, and I will be your new ruler. And with this man, Race Bellingham, by my side, we shall build a new Zuan. A society where men and women are truly equal. A society of balance, not of violence.”

Race looked at her, then at the stunned faces of the Zuanese women, already shedding the ancient curse, their freed minds now able to comprehend the bitter truth. He was still stranded, eons away from Earth. But here, on Kepler-1649c, a new dawn had broken. And with Umidra, a new future beckoned – a future he would help build, one free from the evils of the past.

The End