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We work the rest of the evening peaceably side by side, both of us still naked, his tail securely wrapped around my waist. Around us, night falls. As it turns dark, a small lamp above us lights up automatically, emitting a warm, soft glow. Suddenly, Kirimor grunts beside me and exhales loudly.
“What is it darling?”
He takes a moment before responding. “This last person… I sensed deep malevolence, of the type I have not encountered for a long time.”
“Will you try to absorb that malevolence?”
“No, not tonight. Tomorrow, when I am with Melistor, I will let him seek this person out and see how well he does at neutralizing the evil. It will be a good test of his skills.”
“So…” I hesitate. “You won’t need to get sexual release?”
He takes my hand in his. “Melinda, as long as I am officially sicortar, I cannot promise sexual fidelity to you, much as I wish to. However, I pledge not to absorb evil energy or allow myself to reach a state of intense sexual need, unless it is absolutely imperative I do so. Tomorrow, I will guide Melistor and observe him in his trance, but I will not participate. If, however, he fails in the task, then I will not be able to put him forward as my replacement yet, and upon my return home, I will have to complete the task myself—and yes then, I will need sexual release.”
My heart is heavy in my chest. I’m painfully reminded that loving Kirimor comes at a cost. “How likely is he to fail?” I whisper.
Kirimor huffs out a deep breath. “I think the prospects are good, my love. I do not want to tempt fate with false promises, but I am cautiously optimistic.”
“That’s good.”
He stands and deftly removes the boral crystal from the barbecue pit using the tweezer implement. He drops it on the wooden board and leaves it there to cool. “I think perhaps, it is time to go to bed.”
We each take turns in the bathroom, then slip under the covers in the large bed. Kirimor holds me close, his tail slipping around me. “Sleep now, my love,” he murmurs.
Wrapped in the warm comfort of his body, I feel myself slip into a dreamless slumber.
Chapter 31
Wyatt
Our descent to the Earth’s surface was not the most pleasant of experiences, but I’m proud to say I managed it a lot better. Yes, I clung on to Rivlor for dear life, and maybe I might have cried a tear or two. At least I didn’t sob wildly or suck her thumb like a baby. I don’t know if I’ll ever live down the embarrassment of that particular moment in my life.
Back in my townhouse, I busy myself with the endless preparations for our journey. I barely sleep, at most a handful of hours. I whittle down my list of performers to a maximum of thirty-five people. This has involved some difficult decisions about who we take and who we leave behind. I’ve met with Lacey Holmes, the principal dancer leading our ballet troupe, to work out what ballets we could stage with just a dozen dancers. The big three-act ballets are out of the question, but we’ve included some pas-de-deux dances from our most classic ballets, such as Giselle, Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty, together with some more contemporary abstract ballets.
The orchestra was another difficult decision. No way could we take with us a full classical orchestra, but I was keen to maintain some element of live music with our ballets. As a result, we’ve decided to take a trio of violinists, a cellist, some horn players and a percussionist. We’re also including a pianist and somehow transporting a grand piano light years into space. The plan is to cleverly integrate recorded music featuring a full orchestra with our live musicians, all this under the expert guidance of Rinaldo Pucci, our musical director and conductor. When I think of how ambitious this project is, I’m almost giddy with pride and excitement.
The Shakesperian actors have confirmed they’ll be performing Othello, as well as a twentieth century classic by Arthur Miller, called “Death of a Salesman”. I once saw a Broadway performance of it years ago, and I’m looking forward to having it included in our program. I’m curious to see the reactions of aliens to two plays that so poignantly highlight the faults and fallibilities of the human condition. Perhaps it will chime with their own experience, or else it will fall flat. I’m all too aware of the risks I’m taking with this venture, but after what seems like a lifetime of playing it safe, I’m going all out. It’s scary. It’s exhilarating. It’s amazing. I feel alive and reborn.
Best of all, Ricky Charles has finally confirmed he’ll be joining us. At first, he balked on being told he could only take a maximum of four backing musicians with him and a roadie. What about his make-up artist? His PR reps? The backing vocalists? It took some persuading to get him on board and understand the limitations of the space on the cargo ship. I pointed out that creativity is the mother of invention. Couldn’t his backing musicians double up as backing vocalists? And how about if the dancers, expert at doing their own make-up, also assist him with his? I talked him into it eventually. The guy’s a bit of an asshole and a diva, but his talent is immense. Of course, he’ll be taking the only available guest room on the ship, which means I’ll be bedding down in a pod with everyone else in the cargo hold.
My final preparation, a little morbid, has been to write my will. In case I don’t return from this journey, I want all my affairs in order. I’m leaving all my worldly goods to my two nephews. I’ve also signed over a power of attorney to my brother. Dylan will keep a check on my townhouse and ensure all bills are paid. My chiropractor practice is being sold to my other partners, but I’ve not quite burned all my bridges. If I wanted to, I could come back and start over.
First thing tomorrow, we leave on our epic journey. There is one more thing I need to do. I begin recording a message.
“Hey Mel, I hope life is treating you well. Honey, I have big news. You know I told you I was seeing a new therapist to get me over my fear of flying? Well, we did it. I successfully completed my first drone drone flight in years, but not only this. I also went into space for a short while. It was the most terrifying experience of my life, but I did it. So, now for my big announcement. First thing tomorrow, I’m leaving Earth and travelling to Krovatia on a Venorian cargo ship commanded by Treylor’s cousin. I obtained permission to visit the planet with a troupe of artistic performers I’ve put together. I’m calling it the Interstellar Arts Company, and we’ll be performing ballets and plays that showcase human culture.”
I think about Dwight’s words.When you finally arrive in Krovatia, there is no guarantee that your ex-wife will still be single and willing to get back together with you. With a deep breath, I say what needs to be said. “Honey, I hope with all my heart that we can find our way back to being together as a couple again. I love you forever and no divorce papers will ever cut you out of my heart. I want to be with you. I’m all too aware that this may not be what you want. I hope that’s not the case, but I want you to know this. I am coming to Krovatia in my own right, leading my own business venture. I have no intention of imposing on you or cramping your style. I just hope, with all my heart, that I'm not too late and that I can make you mine again. I love so very much. See you soon honey.”
I end the recording and send.
I barely manage any sleep as I toss and turn, anxiety and anticipation whirling in my fevered brain. The big day finally arrives, and finds me gathered with the rest of my troupe at the space docking station, surrounded by endless crates of supplies. I glance at them worriedly. I hope they will all fit. The ship door slides open, and both Rivlor and Shular step out. They take one look at us and all our belongings, and stop in consternation. Rivlor comes over to me. “You are taking all this?”
I shrug. “Those crates over there contain all our sleeping pods. This here is our grand piano. And the various other crates contain instruments, costumes and sets for our shows. It’s all stuff we are going to need.”
She looks them over, hands on hip. “Very well. We will try our best to accommodate all this. Let us begin.”
The next hour is spent in painstakingly transporting our crates, unpacking our pods, and trying to fit the grand piano in the narrow space allocated for our instruments. It’s stressful grunt work. Tempers fray; people shout. That’s until Rivlor shuts us up with a booming, “Be quiet!” She then proceeds to direct our efforts with the efficiency and skill of a seasoned war general. Everything has to be secured for take-off. When finally all is ready to go, we sit through a safety demonstration in which Rivlor lays down clear rules for us to follow throughout our journey on the ship.
And then it’s time. We all get strapped in to our seats. I feel a fleeting wave of panic, wondering if I’ll be expected to sit like everyone else. I cast agonized eyes at Rivlor, who quirks her lips in amusement and beckons to me. “Come here, Wyatt.”
