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“How about we keep your share of the profits at three percent for the initial run of shows and renegotiate further down the line?”
“Five percent and you have got yourself a deal.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Rivlor.”
“Do we have a deal?”
I put my hand out. “Let’s shake on it.”
She doesn’t extend her hand. “There is one more thing you need to do before we can shake on it.” At my look of enquiry she says, “Prove to me that you can fly in space without a problem. I want you to stay on this ship while we take an orbit around Earth. Get through that and we have a deal.”
I let out a deep breath. “Ok, let’s do it.”
She taps a few commands on her communicator, then raises her honey eyes to me. “Come.” Turning sharply, she steps out of the cargo hold. I walk behind her, beginning to experience twinges of anxiety. I try to clamp down on it, but my stomach continues to do weird somersaults.
Eventually, we reach a large set of doors which open to reveal some kind of operations room or cockpit. We are at the top, pointy end of the ship, framed by large windows which at this moment, show wide panoramic views of the Atlantic Ocean. Three Venorians, busy working away at their consoles, look up as we enter. Rivlor points to the one sitting at the front. “This is Shular, my second-in-command. Over there behind him are Vonlar and Romsal.”
I nod weakly at them all. “Hi, I’m Wyatt Garcia.”
Shular comes forward to greet me the traditional Venorian way. A moment later, he steps back, a frown on his face. I guess he must be reading my dread and anxiety. My suspicions are confirmed when I see him look toward Rivlor. “Are you sure about this? The male is terrified.”
Ok, not just a little anxiety. More like full-on panic.
In answer, Rivlor makes a clicking sound with her tongue. The other two crew members, Vonlar and Romsal, take turns to greet me, and they too emerge from their brief foray into my mind with a frown on their faces.
“What if his terror induces cardiac arrest?” asks Vonlar in concern.
“Leave him to me; he will be fine.” She sounds more sure of this than I am. Shit, where did I leave that paper bag?
Rivlor turns to the third crew member. “Romsal, get us the seat extension we use when parents strap children to them for take-off.”
He rushes out to do her bidding. While we await his return, the other two go back to their consoles and resume their work. “I am programming our departure in one beat. Will that give you enough time?” asks Shular.
“Perfect. The longer we wait the more anxious he will be. Let us get this thing done.”
I exhale deeply, trying not to hurl. I feel her hand stroke down my arm. “Wyatt, listen to me carefully. I am going to strap you to my body while we take off. You will be secure in my arms the whole time and I will keep you safe.”
I nod, unable to speak.
Romsal returns with the seat extension, which he promptly attaches to one of the seats. “Ok Wyatt, come here.” She leads me by the hand to the seat in question and arranges herself on it with her legs resting wide open on the extension. “Slide into my lap, with your back to me.”
With shaking limbs, I do as she says, awkwardly sliding backwards into her lap. I feel her pin me with her legs and arms as she secures two sturdy straps around us. Dazedly, I realize my head is pillowed on her soft breasts. She’s holding me like a mother would hold a child. There’s no room for pride any more. That is long gone. All I can do now is survive this as best I can. I’m no longer a forty-one year old man, but a child, sniffling in fear and wallowing in the comfort of his mother.
“I’m scared,” I croak.
“I know. It will be fine.”
“Hold me.”
“I will.”
“What if the G-force is so strong you let me go?”
“I will not.”
I feel a buzz under me as the ship powers up. I start to cry. “I—I don’t think I can do this. Take me home.”
“No.”
