My Inner Alien

By Arwen Jayne

Phoenix O'Halloran, Red to her friends, is a brash, in your face journalist who always gets her story. Having long ago lost touch with her emotions, except righteous indignation, she now has a very strange problem. Her subconscious has acquired a voice of its own. It's insisting it’s an extraterrestrial alien who needs her help. Not only that, he's her mate.

Long ago Trian was a member of a team aboard a galactic defense spaceship, sent to stop an invasion of Earth. An unsavory group of demonic aliens wanted Earth for its mineral resources. They had no qualms about removing any obstacles in their way, planets, civilizations and anyone sent to stop them. It didn’t go well for Earth’s defenders. Immortal yet frozen in stone they had no choice except to wait out the eons. An ancient prophecy told that only through the compassion of spiritually evolved humans would each of them be freed. And there’s the first problem.

Phoenix knows she wouldn’t know compassion if she fell over it. She certainly isn’t spiritually evolved. Though she now lives in Boswell and she has had the retrovirus to repair her DNA she still can’t do anything like the others around her. She can’t telepath, except with the one voice in her head, she can’t teleport and she’s shown no sign of any other special skills. She’s the least likely person to help Trian yet it appears fate has decreed she’s the one. Then there’s the other problem. The stone that is currently Trian is holding up the side of a mountain. If that mountain side falls...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arwen Jayne
• Release date: Jun 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310948008

Arwen Jayne

My passion is writing paranormal fantasy romance with a metaphysical twist. When I'm not writing I'm either reading other people's romance and erotica novels, gardening or learning about the myriad of things that interest me: meditation, brain change, metaphysics, linguistics, genetics, myths, magic and the odd bit of science and engineering.

Book preview

Left Hand Adventures Book 7

Arwen Jayne

Copyright © 2016 Arwen Jayne

All rights reserved

Smashword edition

While reference has been made to some actual historical events or persons and some real locations all other names, characters and places are fictional; the product of the author's over imaginative mind. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses or places is purely coincidental.

Disclaimer

This book contains sexually explicit scenes and language that may offend. The author is not responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of information contained in this title.

Acknowledgements

This book would not have been possible without the help and encouragement of my friends, my neighbors, my partner and my family. Thanks go to my wonderful editor Jen for her volunteering her precious time, for all the guidance and suggestions and for spurring me on to build my style. To my partner for his never ending patience, encouragement and advice on book covers, weapons and other assorted technology. A special thanks to all who have read my other books and have encouraged me to continue the series. That you have read and enjoyed the books means more than I can say. My partner took the photo for the cover of this book and a couple of my neighbors Chris Rayner and Fiona Weaver provided the hands. Fiona is also the owner of Kimba, the kitten who posed as Oscar/Meta on the front cover of A Lick of Immortality. Sadly Kimba’s sibling Willow recently passed away after having a bad reaction to a tick bit but Kimba is now fully grown. Thanks to Dale Chaplin for reading the final draft and checking for continuity errors

A lifetime ago

The little red haired girl watched as the polished wooden box with the shiny handles was lowered into the hole the adults around her were calling a grave. Everyone was dressed in black and very sad, except dad. He kept huffing and looking at his watch. Her mum was one of those who was sad. She wished there was something she could do to take that sadness away. It had something to do with Gran. She sensed that much but couldn’t make the link between the box and her mother’s mum.

Later, after they’d returned from the funeral, the little girl found her mother in the kitchen, quietly crying as she peeled some potatoes for the evening meal. The child knew onions could make you cry but usually potatoes didn’t. Mummy? There were so many adult words she would have liked to have said but they didn’t seem to be in her brain yet. Daddy had told her once that time would put more words there but for now she hoped her tone of voice would express her concern. Mum didn’t seem well. Mum was her world. She needed to fix Mum.

Dad stormed into the kitchen. Good grief woman. You blubbing again? Death happens. Get over it. I don’t need you to be setting a bad example for the kid. He yanked the child from the room, found a chair and seated her on his lap.

Mummy sad. The little girl wanted to go and heal her mum of her sadness. Couldn’t daddy see that?

Mummy will be alright. She just gets a bit over emotional at times. Emotions get in the way honey. We’re better off without them. Look at the mess they’re making of your mum.

The little girl nodded in understanding. The emotion things were causing her mum’s sadness. They must be like germs. Dad had once told her germs were bad so emotions must be bad too.

Daddy saw the understanding in her eyes. Good girl. Now go and wash up and put a clean dress on. It looks like you and I are going out for a pizza tonight. You’d like that wouldn’t you honey?

The little girl smiled her pleasure. Yes Daddy.

Present day, the Republic of Carpathia

I looked around the small but lively control room and felt instantly at home. The Carpathian television news team was a fair way into putting the nightly news to air. Mike my cameraman and Steve my soundman quietly lugged their equipment into the back of the room and took a place beside me on the back bench. We'd been allowed in before the end of the news only because we knew the drill: shut up and don’t distract the production crew until it was all over.

Our arrival hadn’t escaped their notice though. The technical producer, or TP, sort of co-boss along with the program’s producer, gave us a nod of acknowledgement and turned back to keeping an eagle eye on the vast array of monitors before him. I don’t read Rusyn, Hungarian or Romanian or whatever language they’d used to label each monitor but I could guess their function. An international satellite feed would be one. That would be the one up in the top left corner. There in case some earth shattering news broke and they needed to change the news on the run. Yes their country was now in a different dimension to the rest of the world but that hadn’t stopped their technical people from bogeying up a feed from the main news service feed, Reuters.

Three monitors were showing feeds from the remote controlled cameras on the studio floor. A relaxed and genial looking lighting guy and an intensely focused woman on camera control each had their own monitor, to pull up any camera shot they wished to check.

Camera control? You know, contrast, exposure, remote control movement of the camera, zoom in, zoom out, that sort of thing. The producer, in his Italian suit and flamboyant neck tie. His tall, leggy model of an assistant with her overly permed hair and six inch heels, clutching her stopwatch. The scrawny nervous guy switching between cameras, his hands trembling over the buttons. All three had the center of the desk that ran the full length of the room, with the best view of all the monitors. The acutely observant technical producer, aka the TP, had his own place next to them. He was the true power in the room. Another lady, knitting in her lap, had been squeezed into the smallest possible spot at the end of the desk. She worked furiously to bring up the pre-typed names for the people interviewed, while multitasking to keep the autocue rolling through the written script so the newsreader wouldn’t lose their place the screen they could see in front of them. In between crucial moments her hands managed to unconsciously make another stitch or two on her jumper’s intricate cable pattern. Now there was a brain I’d bet Boswell’s resident human biologist and geneticist, Jnarn, would like to study.

How can the newsreader see words on the autocue while the camera had an unimpaired view of him? Sorry but it's one of those technicalities I’ve never grasped. I just write the stories. Production is someone else’s job. That’s why I have Mike and Steve. Back at base we also now have a cute Maori guy named Ruru who edits up our stories and whacks them up on our online news site. Yeah I know, cute isn’t usually used to describe a six foot eleven wall of moving muscle with a disarming grin but he is, trust me. He wandered through Boswell’s portal not two weeks ago and he’s already an indispensable part of the team.

The TP suddenly stiffens with tension and is pointing to the news flash on Reuters. Căcat.

The swear word, which I assume means something like shit, instantly gets the producer’s attention. I know this because he erupts into rapid fire dialog. Probably yelling into the news reader’s earpiece to announce the story. The nervous guy on the vision mixer is holding a tremulous hand over a button on his console, waiting for the producer’s command. On cue he punches it.

As the reporter on screen speaks, the poor woman who does the typing begins typing subtitles furiously.

"Last night Baja California started experiencing a swarm of tremors. By morning large sections of beach were noticeable by their absence. State geologists have confirmed that the peninsula is sinking, rapidly. The peaks behind me are the Peninsular ranges. It is feared that if the current rate of sinking continues these peaks will be little more than islands by the end of the week. Evacuations have already begun.

Elsewhere reports are coming in of a major and sudden increase in seismic activity worldwide. The sea floor is rising rapidly off the coast of Indonesia. Smoke and ash from Iceland’s notorious Mt Eyjafjallajökull has, just now, put a stop to all European air flights. Mt Etna in Sicily is degassing but the mounting magma pressure under Mt Vesuvius is of more concern. Evacuations of nearby towns have begun with authorities taking the extra precaution of bussing people to shelters closer to the Italian alps. What scientists are termin explosive strombolian activity has increased in the Russian Kamchatka peninsula near the Karymsky volcano. A major eruption there could cause massive destruction to this pristine wilderness area and its endangered wildlife. Lava is leaking down the sides of Mt Rinjani on Lombok. The temperature in its crater lake has risen so high it’s starting to steam. A large fault line is rumoured to have opened up near the Yellowstone caldera in the United States but the United States Geologic Survey people have dismissed the claim as scaremongering, saying such land slippage is common. Mt Colima in Mexico is continuing to erupt, as is Mt Tungurahua in Ecuador. Of two greater concerns, one is the escalating number of tremors around Mt Fuji which hasn’t a erupted since 1708, and of course the big one: Mt Cumbre Vieja in the Canary Islands which if it goes could trigger a tidal wave that might take out much of America’s Eastern seaboard. Ever vigilant geologists are monitoring the situation. At this stage none of the experts has a theory on why all this is suddenly happening but conspiracy groups have been quick to point the finger at a number of possible causes. Fracking, nuclear underground testing, draining of artesian water reserves, the Earth’s dwindling magnetic field or that the Earth is simply sick and tired of us and is getting ready to evict us are just a few of the theories rumbling around the social media. The only thing that is certain is that if the current situation continues to escalate panic amongst the general population will be the least governments around the world will need to worry about. Nuclear power stations may need to be shut down indefinitely, food may become scarce if ash in the atmosphere causes a harsh winter and then there is the inevitable property damage with multiple consequences such as sheltering, feeding and rehousing people.

The escalating situation is already impacting the stock market with stocks in insurance, air travel and property markets crashing down by an astounding 60% overnight. Shares in companies that sell emergency supplies have been rising on fears of food shortages and humanitarian disasters. Some experts have been predicting a rise in the price of gold, silver and diamonds but as yet that hasn’t happened. Many are saying you can’t eat gold and that it is essentials like food, clothing, medicine and even batteries that will become the tradable goods of the black market if the current situation worsens.

We’ll bring you updates as they come to hand."

Well shit! Simon, Boswell’s seer and one somehow scarily powerful being, had predicted this possibility only last week. Was it just one of the likely scenarios or consequences he said they could expect from the impending shift in the magnetism of the Earth’s poles? Can we do anything to avert disaster? More personally worrying, how’s this going to affect my rather vocal subconscious, aka Trian? The alien I’m somehow linked to telepathically is imprisoned in a block stone that's currently all that’s holding up the side of Cumbre Vieja. If the mountain blows he’ll go with it. Into the deep sea trench off the coast of the Canary Islands. The whole reason we haven’t rescued him yet was we didn’t want to trigger that doomsday tidal wave, the one that now looked like happening anyway. Did you catch all that Trian?, I queried. I didn’t like admitting he was real but now wasn’t the time.

I did, came the short and worried response. It appears our time is upon us.

And what the hell does he mean by that?

Roll closing titles, came the order from the producer. At least that’s what I assume the producer just said i as everyone suddenly started relaxing in their seats, shoulders unscrunching, teeth unclenching, worried brows easing. The gentle collective sigh that always followed a news bulletin that had gone off without a hitch. Chatter broke out as everyone started talking about the news flash. Well I assume that’s what they’re talking about. Time to quiz the lady with the knitting needles. She obviously understands English.

Walking over to her, bypassing the more senior members of the news team who seemed a mite surprised when I made a beeline for the lowest ranking member of the crew, I held out my hand. Phoenix O’Halloran.

She accepted my offered hand, Oana Ionescu, pleased to meet you. You’re here with the Boswell film crew that’s staying behind to use our studio.

Yeah, we’re going to set up once you guys clear out. By the way I was pretty impressed with everything you did tonight. That was quite a juggling act with everything they asked of you, not the least the translating on the run.

Oana beamed at me so much it made me think this was the first time anyone had ever noticed. Your kind words are more than I deserve but I appreciate them none the less. Please, call me Oana.

I’d been hoping for that invite. I knew Carpathians could be quite formal with those they didn’t know. Then you should call me Red. I tapped the short boyish cut of hair on my head meaningfully.

She laughed. You are indeed. We call that color roșu but somehow I don’t think roses suit you.

Oh you’d be surprised. They’re a flower that can kick back. Smart plants roses. They invite you to admire them, smell them, touch their petals even but if you try to take one for your own they’re liable to scratch or gouge you with a thorn. Sort of reminded me of how I kept men at bay. I’d let them look and admire, maybe take me out, even the occasional pleasurable one night stand but that was my limit. After that I’d keep them at arm’s length, even snarl at them a bit if they didn’t take the hint. I ignored the snigger in my brain. Obviously Trian had other thoughts, which I chose to ignore right now. That’s some cable you’re knitting. Can I look?

We chatted like that for a bit while Steve and Mike set-up. Adelaide and her brother arrived with Zak and Andrei not far behind. I realised I was keeping Oana from knocking off for the night. Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you here so long.

Not at all. It’s been a pleasure. Maybe we’re can catch up at a cafe somewhere in town tomorrow.

Well there was a nice invite. Sadly I’ve got to get back to Boswell and as I haven’t been able to learn how to teleport or any of the other abilities I was supposed to acquire when I got the DNA fix everyone else has had I have a lift I need to catch in the morning. I really would have liked to talk to her more. Unusual people fascinated me. I was sure there was a human interest story here. Yeah sad I know, that that was all I wanted from her. A friend? That would be nice. But no-one bothered once they got to know me. Only Mike and Steve, and perhaps even my ex-boss, accepted me for what I was, an abrasive hot headed story hunter passionate about her job. That didn’t mean any depth of friendship, just understanding and the ability to work around each other’s strengths and weaknesses. That’s what a team was after all. Oh shit, she caught some of that. There’s compassion in her eyes.

Then I will come to you. Text or email me when you get time.

Smart girl. She’d already realised that you could add a lack of mind reading to my list of missing super powers, well, with the exception of my telepathic link with Trian but she didn’t know about him. Will do.

Adelaide tapped me on the shoulder. We doing this?

Oops. I’m already in trouble with the ex-headmistress of Boswell, now first lady of Carpathia. Coming.

Adelaide laughed, obviously having read my thoughts, You’re not in trouble Red but for my own selfish reasons I’d like to get this done. She eyed her guys meaningfully.

I guess when one of your mates is the president of the country, a Martian born vampire and the other is the head of security who can turn into a werewolf, both stunningly attractive and oozing authority, then you might be been keen to play with them too. Not that the whole authority figure thing did it for me. I prefered my guys more malleable. Was that a faint cough in my head? You have something to say Trian?

Who? Me? Just clearing my mental throat.

But I could tell he was laughing. Sheesh.

The studio’s floor manager, Ivan, helped us set up some chairs for the interview. He was staying behind to make sure we didn’t mess with his studio too much. Smart man.

My guests seated themselves while Mike went to repoint a few of the lights. I didn’t want to take away from the interview I had planned so I steered them into chatting about doings back in Boswell. Hideo sends his regards.

How’s he settling into the headmaster role? Adelaide queried.

Loves it from what I can see and the kids love him too. But that doesn’t mean he lets the kids ride roughshod over him, I added when I saw her frown. From what I hear he’s firm but fair. The kids know where the limits are and the consequences if they go past them. No-one wants to miss out on being in on the really cool stuff like excursions or being in the latest school play. He’s pretty quick to give students wanting to do special projects extra resources if they make a convincing case. One girl’s even building a modified drone for Sentient Species Liaison. Aka Boswell’s team who looked after defence of our interests and liaised with the other sentient species on the planet. At least the ones who weren’t our enemies, like the Din.

Adelaide seemed pleased, I’d sensed as much but it’s pleasing to hear.

"No regrets then,