Princess Grace of Earth

by A K Lambert

  ‘And there are your room keys, numbers four and six,’ Mrs Farrelly smiled broadly at the two men, big rosy cheeks making her appear warm and welcoming. ‘Are you gentlemen on a business trip? You’re quite well dressed.’

  Rob replied, ‘Well dressed? We, er, well we’ve been to Cork. On business, yes, but we didn’t want to stay in a big city.’

  ‘You’ll be fine here, Luv. Get yourself sorted and come down for some dinner at about six o clock.’

  They were down well before that, ready to practice their conversation techniques. Rob didn’t have to work too hard or wait too long, as there was a group of girls in the bar, keen to talk to this handsome new boy. Rob enjoyed being the centre of their attention and very quickly got into character. Unfortunately, Tom took a bit of a backseat, being well above the girls’ target age range.

  Rob was invited to visit the pub over the road with the girls, where the music was a little more upbeat than the hotel bar, leaving Tom to go to dinner on his own. He was seated next to a table with a blond woman eating by herself, just finishing her meal. Tom decided to try and start a conversation.

  ‘The weather is quite beautiful this evening,’ he began.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ she replied.

  ‘Are you staying at the hotel?’ Tom was feeling a little awkward now.

  ‘Oh no. I work over the road. I’ve had a tough day, what with my boss away ill,’ she said. ‘I’d be too tired to cook for myself, so I’m having some of Mrs Farrelly’s gorgeous hotpot.’ He liked the way her hair moved as she turned her head.

  He quickly accessed his knowledge disk, checking what hotpot was. ‘Braising steak, onions, carrots and potatoes. Was it enjoyable?’

  She looked at him curiously, then smiled. ‘Yes, enjoyable. My name is Samantha, Samantha Smith.’ She offered him her hand.

  Tom knew all about handshake greetings but was a little overzealous with his grip of her delicate hand. ‘My name is Thomas.’ He noticed her wincing and immediately let her hand go. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Well, I must be off, my cat will want to feed and I’ve still a wee walk to get home.’ She stood up and put her coat on, trying to button it up, still wincing at her hand. ‘Goodbye, Thomas. Enjoy your meal.’

  Tom ordered the hotpot off Mrs.Farrelly, and couldn’t help thinking he was having a successful first outing.

  For the next stage of the tracking process, Janet Kilkenny set up an algorithm to lock on to the NEA and take photos when it had traversed a defined distance, helping determine its speed more accurately. She left the program running, returning to it after a trip she’d planned for a long weekend in London with some old friends.

  After four days of sightseeing, plenty of banter, much shopping and even more Guinness, she was home again. She spent the afternoon fussing and storytelling with her mother, then made her way to the attic to see what was happening. She booted up her computer and downloaded the images captured in the external data drive. The first image appeared, then the second. She set it to slideshow and popped downstairs to get a coffee. When she returned, it had finished. Impossible she thought, it should be at least a half hour longer. She grabbed her dictaphone.

  ‘My lousy equipment appears to be on the blink. It looks like I’ve wasted a few days.’ She started the slideshow again. ‘March 8th. Reviewing the distance-lapsed photos of Daisybell. Series commenced on March 4th/ First photo 14.30. Second photo 16.18.’ She turned the dictaphone off, considering the next twenty photos spaced at similar time differences. The image changed. ‘March, 6th, 02.24. Daisybell has disappeared, just a picture of the stars. Seven more photos of the stars in rapid succession and finish. Total waste of space.’

  Annoyed, Janet spent the next two hours finding Daisybell again and resetting the equipment. She left it in tracking mode and went to bed cursing all things technological.

  Four days later Janet reviewed the next set of results. The tracking had worked perfectly. The results confirmed her first predictions, so she sent the file back to her friend and colleague Emily, at NASA, with a note suggesting they might want to keep an eye on this asteroid.

  The results from last week were niggling at her, though. She viewed the slides again, talking out loud as usual, but without the dictaphone. ‘An asteroid, then no asteroid. Star system on the slide, then more of the star system on the slide, continuing thusly, then ending.’

  She returned to the latest photos. ‘Daisybell, you don’t look the same.’ She flicked between the old and the new pictures and it dawned on her. Where has the shadow gone?

  It wasn’t on the latest images. Where did it go?

  Janet began sifting through the images much more intently now. She was viewing the ones taken around the time the shadow had appeared, particularly the before and after pictures when the bombshell struck.

  ‘It’s the background stars! Two background stars have disappeared.’ She looked from one to the other. The stars were there, then gone. ‘Exactly in the position that an object would need to be to cast a shadow onto the asteroid. An invisible object that doesn’t allow light to pass through it? What is going on?’

  Her mind was racing. ‘What if my tracking software was working correctly and was tracking the mystery object itself? It would mean the object headed towards Earth. At great speed.’

  She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes.

  Janet Kilkenny had not moved from her chair for about two hours.

  She had decided to try and track its trajectory, and was pretty sure it would have landed somewhere in Ireland. The fact that the night sky had stayed constant suggested it had travelled straight down towards her, give or take a few hundred miles.

  She needed a lot more computer power to analyse the data, though, and needed some help from a friend. Her initial thought was it was best to keep this low key. Using NASA’s facilities could result in too many questions being asked—for the moment anyway. She spent the next couple of hours getting all the relevant information ready to email to her friend. There was a lot of data, and it needed four separate emails to get it to him.

  Sonia now had the chance to attend to her transformation.

  Kean and Tray were spending their first night out of the sphere. She would have until morning to find a suitable host.

  She’d had enough of the Trun host and was looking forward to a change. No further modifications to her anatomy were required, as humans were stockier than the Trun. Her forehead horns and the protruding bones from the upper vertebrae of her spine were still phase shifted away. They were there, but moved forward in time a fraction of a second, thus not visible in normal time.

  She had selected a park three miles away, near Macroom, close to a thoroughfare used by locals. The park had an abandoned building once used as a tearoom that would be perfect for her needs. With all research completed, she exited the ship via the air bubble, wearing a tracksuit with hood, dark glasses, and a scarf covering her mouth. A half hour later, she arrived. She set up a scanner on the thoroughfare, moved down the path, hid in some bushes and waited.

  Anyone who passed by the scanner would have their age, sex and dimensional suitability transmitted to Sonia. She wanted a woman on her own, between twenty-five and forty years old.

  Over the next hour, a steady stream of people passed. Finally, a woman who fitted all criteria crossed through. She was on her way home after a hard day in the local pharmacy and was looking forward to curling up on the sofa with her cat. Sonia let her pass, checked carefully for passersby, then stunned her from behind. She retrieved her scanner before heading on to the abandoned tearoom, her potential host over her shoulder.

  Inside the building, she stripped the clothes from the woman and laid her face down down. She had no time to play with her victim this evening. She positioned the scanner directly above the woman’s body, set the hover function and locked it in place. She activated it, and it began carrying out a series of sweeps, assessing the work to be done. When it finished, a small green laser bea
m appeared and started cutting from the top of the skull to the base of the spine. It cut down the rear of each leg and then each arm. The whole of the corpse was opened out, ready for the technological taxidermist to do its work.

  Sonia began discarding the Trun epidermis that she had worn for the majority of the last sixteen years. All neural and physical interfaces were severed, and Trun skin crumpled to the floor. She folded it up and placed it a portable storage unit. She would need her Trun host later. Sonia stood in front of the scanner. The physical attributes that had been time shifted reappeared—her short back, shoulder and head horns and extended horns flowing gracefully down to the middle of her back.

  She exulted in the comfort of being in her own form, savouring this briefest of moments while the scanner carried out its work.

  All of the internal organs, the skeleton, muscles, blood and lymph circulatory systems were phase shifted out of this existence. All that remained was the exterior of the woman that would soon be her new host.

  The scanning machine stopped and emitted a short message in her native tongue, ‘Time Shift.’ She stood there while it moved her horns into the future, and then, ‘Enter Host.’ Sonia moved toward her new epidermis and climbed inside.

  The skin slowly started wrapping itself around her legs and arms. Finally, she was enclosed entirely. The Zerot, in her new outer skin, was lifted from the ground and floated, long blond hair flowing in all directions. The machine rotated her, emitting a plethora of green beams at the body, connecting and activating every nerve ending, every neural and physical interface. Soon, it was complete. Sonia was returned to her feet as the machine turned itself off. She dressed.

  The lady lived, though her cat would not be fed tonight.

  Professor Brad Foley was Janet’s Astrology lecturer at Florida International University. They had stayed friends after her graduation, and he had taken a keen interest in her career after acting as one of her references on her application to join NASA—on loan from the CIA.

  A man who survived on little sleep, Brad had picked up Janet’s email within minutes of her sending it, even though it was still only 4.30 in the morning.

  * * *

  Hey Brad,

  How are Kate and Emily? I hope you are all well.

  I’m still in Ireland. Mom’s not faring very well at the moment. She has her good days, but the bad days are hitting her harder now. I dread where this is going.

  Anyway, as you know, my little set up here is keeping me out of mischief. And I’ve got something I’d like you to look at with the university computers.

  I won’t say anything at this stage. Study the pictures and see if your conclusions are the same as mine. I know you like a mystery.

  Watch for three more emails.

  Love, Janet

  * * *

  Brad Foley was feeling like a boy on Christmas morning as he looked through the emails and began piecing together the timeline of the pictures.

  ‘She’s studying a stationary asteroid with an unusual shadow on it. She’s on time lapse—no, distance travelled—frame shots. Not a lot happening until these last few. What’s going on now?’

  He flicked through the pictures again, and a third time. Closed his eyes for a minute, scratched his chin, then jumped up and ran upstairs.

  He leant over his sleeping wife, who was stirring from the noise he was making.

  ‘Janet’s sent me a riddle. I’m just going over to use the university’s computers for a couple of hours.’ He kissed her.

  ‘Brad, it’s Saturday. What time is it? For god’s sake. Be back by eleven, we’re having brunch with Ted and Sally.’

  ‘I will.’ And he was off.

  Brad Foley leaned back in chair seat in the study lab, with a wry smile on his face. The evidence was conclusive. Janet, on her home computer, had tracked something from a fixed location behind a big rock in space—that could be deemed as hiding—to somewhere in Ireland.

  The data was the data, and his computers could do no more than confirm what Janet had suspected, albeit with more speed and a lot more accuracy.

  Was it a UFO? Brad thought it might well be. Although he had tracked many objects that displayed typical UFO characteristics and weren’t. Was it worth making a fuss over this information? He didn’t think so. Janet’s data was just too sketchy. Anyone could have reproduced what she’d sent him. Nobody would be interested in this except Janet and himself. He emailed her back and told her as much.

  * * *

  ...and the landing coordinates are 51deg 54‘16“ N 8deg 57‘25“ W, give or take a mile or two. That’s the best I can do with what you’ve sent me.

  Let me know how it goes with any more investigating you decide to do. I’m interested, though as I’ve said, I don’t think anyone else will be.

  Love to you and your folks. We’re all wishing your mum the very best with her treatment and praying for her.

  Keep in touch.

  Brad x.

  Kean and Tray made their way back to the hidden TW Sphere the following morning with a spring in their steps. Kean was happy that his popularity with Trun girls carried over to his Earthly persona, and Tray was still delighted with his perceived successful encounter with Samantha Smith. They both had moments where their naiveté had shown, Kean especially. One of the three girls had whispered in his ear to a Rod Stewart record playing Do Ya Think I’m Sexy? Kean quickly accessed the lyrics to the song, saw where the couple in the song ended up and panicked. ‘No, I don’t,’ he blurted. She left in a huff.

  At the edge of the water, they summoned up a transport bubble, stepped inside and transferred into the sphere. Sonia was still in her room and unresponsive. Kean replicated some clothes more in keeping with the younger men’s attire in the public house. The new look was denim jeans, trainers, tee shirt and a short black leather jacket. He went straight back out to meet the girls from last night, for a liquid lunch as they described it. Standard Saturday behaviour in the village, apparently.

  Once Kean had gone, Tray sorted himself out some casual wear. He was admiring a holographic image of himself in brown corduroy trousers, brown brogue shoes, and a checked shirt when Sonia stepped out of her room.

  But it wasn’t Sonia. It was Samantha Smith.

  Momentarily confused, Tray said, ‘Samantha?’

  ‘No it’s me, Sonia. I’ve completed my transformation.’

  ‘But you’re identical to Samantha Smith. A lady at the next table to me at dinner, last night. How has that happened?’

  Sonia didn’t answer that question, she asked one instead. ‘Where is Kean?’

  ‘He’s gone to meet some girls from the town. I’ll ask again. Why are you imitating a woman from the village?’

  It was the last question he would ever ask. Sonia moved with lightning speed. In a moment she was behind him, one arm holding him and the other twisting his head, breaking his neck. She held him for a moment and then sneered as she let him drop to the floor.

  ‘Turdgutter,’ she muttered. ‘What do I do with him now?’

  Janet finished reading Brad’s findings and sent a reply thanking him, and agreeing that it would be pointless to share the data with anyone else at this juncture.

  Then she plotted the coordinates on her dad’s ordinance survey map.

  The Gearagh, near Macroom.

  Janet knew of the place but had never been there. A submerged glacial woodland formed during the building of two hydroelectric dams. She remembered seeing photographs of the remains of old trees, eerily visible through the surface of the lake, giving a ghostly appearance. She’d thought at the time that she would like to see this nature reserve.

  Perhaps now was the time to go and pay a visit.

  Janet arrived in Macroom on the Saturday lunchtime. She had booked into the Mayfield Hotel for just one night but was early—her room not ready until 2.00 pm. The Plowman’s Inn over the road looked a good place to kill an hour or so. She ordered a Plowman’s lunch—it seemed rude not to—a half o
f Guinness, and sat herself down. The pub wasn’t crowded by any stretch of the imagination, but still quite lively.

  She finished her meal and popped to the loo. While she was washing her hands, she spoke to a girl next to her touching up her makeup. ‘I’ve only just arrived, but I like this little town. I bet you don’t get many visitors.’

  ‘Few come at this time of year, though things will start picking up when the spring arrives. Visiting the nature reserve, mostly.’ She smiled. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘To see the reserve,’ Janet said. ‘Mostly, I was hoping to bump into some friends, but the arrangement was never made firm and I’m sure I’ve got their phone number wrong. Have you seen any strangers in town?’

  ‘Only the lad we’re talking with. He came with his friend, last night,’ she said.

  ‘Doesn’t sound like the people I’m looking for,’ Janet sighed.

  ‘He’s English, and a bit strange.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Oh, how he dresses—or did last night—and speaks. Can’t put my finger on it, but Rob there is killing us. We’re having a real good time.’ The girl finished touching up her lips and was gone.

  Janet went back to her seat and watched the boy with the three girls for a while. He was certainly a natural entertainer. Maybe a bit too natural?

  Just after two, she checked into the hotel. She changed into her walking clothes, then made a point of bumping into Mrs. Farrelly again, using the same story she’d used earlier: hoping to bump into some old friends, and had she seen any strangers about. ‘Some businessmen from Cork was all,’ she had said. A little more questioning and she found out it was the boy Rob and his friend.

  She bought a map of the area from a shop and stood reading it in the weak spring sun. She realised she hadn’t thought this through and didn’t have any plan. After some consideration, she decided to walk out to the nature reserve. It was there on the map, but the road she was on was doing a good job of hiding from her. A sign reading “Gearagh Nature Reserve” over the road saved any embarrassment, and off she strolled out of the charming little town.