Page 17 of The Space Traveller's Lover
He keeps perfectly still and allows Erin to inspect him for as long as she wants. She is intrigued by his exotic looks, puzzled by his magnetic aura. His thick dark eyebrows join together over the long thin nose. When he momentarily blinks, the glow from his pupils flashes through lush dark eyelashes. His slick silver hair flows over his thick neck and falls over his forehead in a jagged fringe. Her fingers play with his hair as she strokes his face, pressing hard on his cheeks and jawbones.Oh, he is real!
He moves one arm behind his back and brings about a crystalline pyramid-shaped object, perfectly balanced on the palm of his hand. The sharp-edged piece shines at the edges with a fuzzy iridescent light, and as it starts to rotate slowly, Erin recognises the letters of the alphabet randomly appearing on each side in a bright red colour.
The man speaks slowly in a gravelly voice. She listens carefully, trying to understand in vain what he’s saying. But then she notices every letter assembling into words on the surface of the pyramid: “Welcome to your ancestors’ world, Shaillah.”
“Shaillah?” She frowns.
“Seij, Shaillah” (Yes, Shaillah), he declares as he withdraws his hand from beneath the pyramid and lets it float while the shiny object slowly rotates with the name “Shaillah” displayed on all four sides.
She tries to touch the pyramid, anticipating a cold sensation from the glassy surface, but the sudden electric discharge makes her jolt.
“No, no,” she protests, shaking her head firmly. “My name is Erin. What is yours?”
The man wryly smiles at her sharp response. He stands up, his broad shoulders rising above her head. He puts one hand over his chest, briefly bowing his head, as he says in a mellow voice, “My name is Rothwen.”
Erin looks up at him, her mouth wide open in surprise as she hears the words in perfect English. “So, you also speak English,” she marvels.
“It’s not a big deal, Shaillah. You’ll soon be speaking our language as well.”
She backs away from him, gathering her thoughts; a lost and bewildered look flashes across her face. Then she realises that the two other men are inquisitively looking at her as well.
“Meet our supreme commander, Kuzhma-Or, and our chief scientist, Athguer,” Rothwen announces, ignoring her baffled expression.
“Kuzhma-Or, Athguer,” she repeats as she looks at each of them in turn.
Athguer is wearing a navy bodysuit with a high open collar around the back of his neck. His trimmed silver-streaked hair and beard are impeccably combed back in straight lines, exuding a zest for perfection.
Kuzhma-Or’s highly decorated uniform gives him a compelling dominating appearance. His thick white eyebrows and rectangular beard stand out against his black glossy attire.
The hefty commander acknowledges Shaillah with a brief nod, while Athguer keeps looking at her, narrowing his eyes in a studious stare.
“Unda ye, Shaillah,” Kuzhma-Or orders while turning around and briskly walking towards the glossy ebony table running through the back of the vast room, in stark contrast with the pure white polished walls.
She reads the translation on the floating pyramid’s side: “Follow me, Shaillah.”
She repeats to herself,Unda ye, Unda ye, and she has the impression that she has heard those words before.Maybe in my dreams?She wonders.
As Kuzhma-Or walks away, the pyramid follows him, floating along and gliding over the table. He lounges back on his tall chair at the head of the table while stroking the glitzy gemstones adorning the golden hand rest.
Rothwen waits patiently by Erin, as she still dares not move. She knows her only option is to obey them, but she buys herself some time while inspecting the strange but intriguing multichromatic view quickly changing in front of her.
Athguer returns to the flickering three-dimensional projection, analysing the packed rows of symbols as he strolls back and forth, totally consumed in his thoughts.
With a sharp glance, Kuzhma-Or orders Rothwen to join him at the glossy table. Rothwen takes Erin by the hand, leading her to sit opposite him while facing the imposing commander and the colourful images. Erin sits on top of her crossed legs, stretching out her body to make herself look taller. She looks up at the men in an expectant pose while checking approvingly on her body’s reflection.
“Seya, Shaillah” (Welcome, Shaillah)! “Your awakening has long been awaited … by us all,” Kuzhma-Or says, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture, his booming voice resounding all around the concave walls.
She starts to read the translated words on the pyramid, but she finds herself understanding every word, even before she finishes. All the while, she keeps glancing at Kuzhma-Or and Rothwen, trying to ascertain their intentions.
The glossy tabletop slides open at its centre, and two tall black goblets rise from within the gap, a bluish effervescent foam bubbling on their rims.
“Drink, Shaillah. It will energise your tired body,” Rothwen encourages her, placing a goblet between her hesitant hands.
She cautiously smells the bubbles popping up as she nervously holds the cold thin glass stem. She sticks her tongue out, touching the frothy top. As she tastes the refreshing liquid, a rush of energy flows through her body. The taste and feel are so enticing that she tilts the goblet over her mouth and keeps it there until the last drop is gone. As she places the empty glass back on the table, she looks at each man in defiance.
“Who are you? And why have you brought me here? Where is Sam? I want to go back home,” she demands, with such impetus that she is even taken aback by her bold move.
But the men hardly blink.
