One

 

Later, Sophie Dawson would wish she’d been looking toward the McDonald’s at that fateful moment. If she’d been in the same place at the same time but rotated one hundred and eighty degrees, that would’ve saved her a lot of confusion.

Then again, she might not have believed her eyes. Her life up to now had been comparatively mundane. Everything that’d happened to her in the past thirty-four years had followed the laws of science as she understood them.

Nothing had prepared her to watch an extraterrestrial life form shimmer into being.

So maybe it was for the best that she was standing outside the used bookstore, her head down as she dug through the rack of three-for-a-buck paperback mystery novels. Her thoughts were on the relative merits of Agatha Christie versus John Grisham, and whether she should stick with the old standard that never went wrong or take a chance on something more modern and, dare she say it, more exciting.

The first sign that anything was amiss was the voice that squeaked out, “Help.”

Engrossed in the back-cover copy of a Christie novel—she was trying to remember if she’d read it before, because they all blended together after a certain point—she ignored it. The voice was barely audible, and she thought she’d imagined it.

But the voice came a second time, and this one was louder and more confident. “Help?”

Sophie swiveled her head, taking care not to move her body. She had learned that, in a city the size of Rocksoil, it was best to not draw attention to herself. Downtown could be scary late at night—it was already past nine in the evening—and being overly cautious was better than not being cautious enough.

Once she saw the person behind her, she relaxed. The woman was about her age or a little younger, and she was standing right in the middle of the street. Sophie’s natural caring instinct kicked in, and she set the books on the rack, vowing to come back and finish her selection later.

Hurriedly, Sophie took the stranger’s arm and led her to the other side of the street. Under the bright light of the McDonald’s, she examined her. The woman’s dazed expression was the first thing she noticed. She was also—well, beautiful.

Her skin was a light shade of brown, like the golden oa006B of Sophie’s coffee table, and she had pin-straight, jet-black hair. Her features were unlike any Sophie had ever seen; there was something otherworldly about her appearance.

“What’s wrong?” Sophie asked. “What do you need help with?”

“I—I—” The woman spoke haltingly, as if she’d forgotten how to use her mouth to construct syllables together and put them together to form words. “I’m not supposed to be here.” She looked down at herself, then snapped her head back up.

Sophie tilted her head to one side and looked down at the woman. She dwarfed her, like she did to most people. “Where are you supposed to be?”

“You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

“Try me.” Sophie was the first to admit that she’d led a sheltered life, but even she was picking up that something was off. The woman was either mentally unwell or on drugs. Either way, Sophie wasn’t going to let her leave without making sure she’d be okay. “Do you want to use my phone?” she prompted. “We can find where you’re going on Google Maps.”

The stranger let out a half-laugh, then looked startled by the sound she’d made. “That won’t help. It—it’s not here.”

“Nowhere is here. Aside from here itself, obviously.” Sophie chided herself. She doubted that getting philosophical would be helpful right now. “Can you tell me anything more about where you were going? Or, first, do you want to go inside? You’re going to get cold.”

The woman was only wearing a plain white T-shirt and plain gray shorts. The outfit was like something a doll would have underneath its clothes. Sophie, by contrast, was in full-length blue jeans and a light blazer. Even with that, she was a little chilly in the June evening air. She was surprised the woman wasn’t shivering already.

“No, you don’t understand,” the woman said. “I’m not supposed to be—this.”

Sophie screwed up her face. Something weird was definitely going on, and she was beginning to suspect she was out of her depth trying to help this person.

“Help me understand,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“I need to go home.”

“And where is that?”

The woman shook her head.

“What’s your name? Do you have any ID with you?” Sophie was proud of herself for coming up with these questions. And Terry always said she had no common sense! She’d show him. She was handling this very well, thank you very much.

Except that again, the woman was shaking her head.

“Oh, come on,” Sophie said. “You must be able to tell me your name. Mine is Sophie.”

“You wouldn’t be able to pronounce mine.”

Sophie gawked at her. Was this woman from another country, then? She had no accent. In fact, now that Sophie thought about it, the woman spoke with the neutral, General American accent that Sophie had learned about in her graduate classes. It was the way newscasters spoke, deliberately giving no clues about where they were from.

“Where are you from?” she asked again.

The woman’s face tightened, and she shuddered. “Not here.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Sophie had made up her mind. Terry be damned, she’d figure this out. Even if she wasn’t equipped to handle this on her own, she’d take the stranger to someone who was. “You’re coming with me.”

 

***

 

Azyxs-02H-M4T2 was, for lack of a better word, discombobulated. She had expected to land on Gliese 832c the way she had a hundred times before. The teleportation device had never failed. In the space of a millisecond, it should’ve transported her the few light-years from her home planet.

She should’ve been confirming a trade deal, not following a strange Earthling to who-knew-where. “I’m late,” she mumbled to herself. “They’re waiting for me.”

“Who?” Sophie asked.

“Nobody.”

Humans weren’t even supposed to know people like her existed. She’d messed up so badly. She must’ve miscalibrated the teleportation device—but how? It was only by searching the vast databases on her microchip that she’d managed to figure out where she was—a sixth-tier planet that had rarely been contacted. Earth wasn’t even part of the Interplanetary Union!

How was she going to get home from such a primitive planet? They didn’t have teleportation devices here. She searched for a solution as she walked beside the human. The only thing that came to mind was to try to build one—and that was laughable. She was a businesswoman, not an engineer. Teleportation was highly sophisticated technology, not a project for a layperson.

“Here we are,” Sophie said. “The police station. They’ll know what to do with you. I hope.”

“Police? No.” The alien knew better than to allow that. The authority figures on uncontacted planets weren’t to be trusted. “I need to go.”

“They’ll be able to help you.” Sophie was already swinging open the door of a squat brick building. “And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you need help.” She held the door open for the alien to go in.

The alien stepped back from the entrance, her heartbeat picking up an unpleasant amount of speed. “No.”

Sophie grabbed her arm with surprising determination. “There’s no ‘no.’ You’re coming in.”

If the alien had been more accustomed to her human body, she might have been able to escape from Sophie’s grasp. As it stood, she’d only had arms and legs for a few minutes, and she had no idea how to get them away from anyone else. When Sophie pulled her inside, she had no way to resist.

The being inside was what the alien recognized as a man. He was much older than Sophie, and he rubbed his eyes before he looked up from his desk. Once he saw the two women, his facial expression changed to what the alien believed was a frown. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Sophie said. “This woman was wandering the street alone, and she won’t tell me anything about herself, not even her name. I think she may be…” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Unwell.”

“Is that so?” The man seemed bored. “Tell me, sweetheart, what’s your name?”

He was addressing Azyxs-02H-M4T2. The alien needed to avoid suspicion. She had to appear as normal as possible so that this man would allow her to leave. Once she got out of here, she could continue to think about her next steps. If she failed to present herself properly, he might detain her—and if the authorities figured out what she was, it wouldn’t be pretty.

“I’m…” Lying didn’t come naturally to her kind. She’d never done it, really—so she drew on the nature of the human-like body she was in. “Marsha.” She liked that it sounded like “Martian,” the name humans often gave to extraplanetary beings.

Beside her, Sophie squeaked.

“Do you have a last name, Marsha?” the police officer asked.

“No.”

Sophie pointed at her sharply as if to tell the cop that was what she meant.

The alien—Marsha—was aware that she’d screwed up. Humans had first and last names. “Just kidding,” she said, frantically searching her databases. She placed a bookmark in the slim volume about Earth. “My last name is… Green.” Like a little green alien.

“Greene with an E?”

“No E. Just Green.”

“All right, then.” The man directed his attention toward Sophie again. “I don’t see any problem.”

“She said she wanted to go home,” Sophie said. “She wouldn’t tell me where that is.”

Marsha thought she heard frustration in Sophie’s voice. She hated to upset someone who clearly had good intentions, but she didn’t have much choice. “I know where my home is.”

“That’s not what you said!”

Marsha cringed at what she was about to say. “I didn’t want to give my address to a stranger.”

“You…” Sophie’s eyebrows shot up, and she took a deep breath. “Ask her for her ID.”

“I’ve heard enough,” the cop said. “There doesn’t seem to be any issue here, so ladies, I suggest you move along.” He leaned his elbows on his desk and looked at Sophie. “And make sure there’s an actual problem before you come back again.”

Sophie was silent as the two of them walked out. As soon as they were outside, she spun toward Marsha, her hands balling into fists. “You want to tell me what that was about?”

Marsha most certainly did not. The only thing she wanted was to figure out how to get to Gliese 832c. Her meeting would be over by now, and she didn’t even know if the trade deal had gone through. As a provincial senator, she’d spent many hours doing research and conducting telecalls with Gliese’s representatives. It was going to be one of the biggest deals ever between the two planets, and it’d all disappeared in an instant.

“Nothing,” she said. “I know where my home is. Like I said, I just didn’t want to tell you.”

“But…” Sophie trailed off and shook her head. “Okay. All right. I guess I overstepped. I should’ve left you alone.” Despite Marsha’s lack of familiarity with human emotions, she was certain that Sophie was upset.

“I know you were only trying to help,” she said. “But I don’t think you can. These people definitely can’t.”

“What do you need?”

Marsha let out a sigh. “A teleportation device.”

Sophie laughed uncomfortably, and even Marsha could tell she didn’t think it was actually funny. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Marsha glanced down again at this human body wrapped in its strange fabric coverings. She still needed help, and Sophie was the only one offering it. “I already told you, I’m not from here.”

“Then for the last time, where exactly are you from?”

“You still don’t understand!” Marsha raised her voice to match Sophie’s. “I’m what you would call an alien.”

 

***

 

Sophie blinked down at Marsha. Aliens didn’t exist—everyone knew that. And on the off chance that that they did, they didn’t look the exact same as normal human beings.

“Please believe me, Sophie. I’m being completely honest with you.”

This woman had bigger problems than Sophie had thought. She was completely off-kilter. The fact that she’d pulled herself together to seem normal to the cop only made her more dangerous.

She needed help, and Sophie was nowhere near qualified to give it to her. Sophie was a speech-language pathologist in an elementary school, not a mental health professional. If Marsha needed help learning to pronounce the letter R, Sophie would be her girl, but Marsha had no issues with that.

The strange genericness of Marsha’s accent flickered again through Sophie’s mind, but she pushed the thought away. Having a neutral accent didn’t make Marsha an alien, for heaven’s sake. Sophie had to be nuts to even consider the possibility that it was true.

The question now was what on earth she could do—no pun intended. Sophie knew that if she dragged Marsha back inside, Marsha would put on her “normal person” act again. Sophie would seem obsessed; the cops would be more likely to arrest her than Marsha.

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

Marsha’s face twisted. “I don’t know, exactly. All I want is to go home. If you don’t want to help me, I’ll figure things out. But I don’t know anyone else on this entire planet.”

Folding her arms, Sophie peered at Marsha. The woman appeared sincere, and Sophie really didn’t want to leave her to wander the streets by herself. There was something wrong with her, and she felt responsible for her now. Surely she could watch over her long enough to get her some help.

“Okay,” Sophie said slowly. “Why don’t you come home with me?”

Once Marsha was at ease, Sophie would press her again for an address or contact information for her family. Her parents were probably looking for her. Given her obvious mental health issues, Sophie hoped she lived with them or some other support network. Once Sophie got in touch with them, it’d be a piece of cake to get Marsha back home.

“All right,” Marsha said. “Take me home.”

Sophie reached for her phone to call an Uber. For a brief second, she thought longingly of the used books she’d had to leave on the rack. Well, for once, real life was more interesting than a mystery novel.

Terry would be so impressed with how Sophie had handled this. No common sense, my foot.