UNTITLED (cont)

10 hours and 42 minutes later
Hayling Island

The sun was kissing the horizon as it departed the English sky and as it did it cast one last shadow across the rough timber bridge leading to Hayling Island. That shadow was of the Prime ministers coach as it sped of the bridge and onto a dirt road. A few minutes later and the coach came to a sudden stop. "Why have we stopped?" Demanded the deputy Prime minister. "I thought we were headed to the south of the island!"
The driver leaned back and, without turning, shouted to his passengers, "I think you had better look at this sirs." The four passengers climbed out of the carriage and stared in disbelief at what lay before them. Ahead of them, maybe a mile away, hung a large metallic craft. From where they were stood it seemed to be hovering over the beach and out to see, motionless, silent. 60 meters across and twice as much in length. Dark in colour but reflective like a mirror with small peaks and domes on its top side but smooth as glass underneath. The Prime minister climbed back on board, "Come on," he barked, "get us to that thing now!"

The carriage stopped just at the edge of the pebble beach and the party of four stepped out. A wall of soldiers lined the beach as far as the eye could see and immediately ahead of them, like a giant pendulum, hung the strange craft. The reflection of the sea could be seen clearly on its surface and as the men gazed up at this thing their own reflections gazed back. "Major Cartwright, what can you tell us," asked the smoking man, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. The major walked up to them and stood confidently between the men and the craft, "Yes sir." He said saluting as he did so. "The craft stopped a mile off to see but we've managed to pull it back to shore with minimum effort, however," he paused and turned to face the craft, "it seems to be dropping."
"Dropping?" said the Prime minister.
"Yes sir, dropping. My guess is its losing power."
Davenshore removed his hat and looked to the major, "How long till its grounded?"
The Major Looked up at the craft and then to Davenshore, "well, we estimate at the speed at which its dropped so far that we have three hours, maybe four at most."
"Then get as many men, horses, boats you can. Whatever it takes and get that thing fully ashore before its too late." Ordered the Prime minister.

Two hours later the craft was fully ashore and only three feet off the ground with bushes and trees crushed beneath its mass. The party of four had not said a word in all that time, just watching, observing. But now the deputy Prime minister spoke, "So what now sir," he asked his companions, "what do we do with it?" The four men looked at each other, each waiting for one of the others to speak. Finally it was Davenshore who did, "We investigate it," he said turning to face the craft, "we look for a way in and find out what we can." Just then there was a loud metallic groan and the whole craft fell to earth with a sound like roaring thunder. A cloud of dust shot into the air and the sound of a thousand soldiers, one Major, a Prime minister and his deputy and two of their staff coughing and choking filled the air. As the dust settled the Prime minister stepped over to the side of the craft and ran his hand down its surface, "Wheres the dust?" he asked himself.
"What sir?" asked his deputy.
"Look at us, covered head to toe with dust but this thing is as clean as when it first arrived." He turned to face his companions, "Wheres the dust?"
The deputy Prime minister stepped forward and slid his hand down the crafts smooth surface, staring intently at the greasy marks left by his fingers. slowly the grease slid like water from its surface and disappeared off the lower edge. He leaned in almost touching it and let out a warm breath. A small vapour mark appeared and then almost instantly disappeared. As he gazed at the craft he was caught by his own reflection gazing back at him. He stared hypnotically at his reflections eyes and suddenly he became aware that they were staring back at him.
"Are you alright sir?" asked Davenshore. The Prime minister, who was now speaking to the Major, turned to look at his deputy, "Jacob," he walked closer to his deputy, "Jacob look at me." Just then the deputy Priminister fell to the ground. The others ran to him and knelt around his body. The smoking man laid his fingers on the deputy Priministers neck. "His pulse is weak but still there sir," he said looking up at the Prime minister, expecting to see him looking back but instead found him staring at the craft. The smoking man rose and turned to see what the Priminister was looking at, "My God!" He said stepping back. Davenshore and the Major turned to see what was wrong and looking back at them from the crafts mirror like surface was the deputy Prime minister. The men gazed in silence as the reflection began to cry and then without warning screamed in silence and faded from existence. The Prime minister placed his hand on the Majors shoulder and looked down at his deputies body. Davenshore then checked for a pulse again but found none. "Hes gone sir," he said.
"Destroy it," the Priminister said in almost a whisper, "tune it to dust."
"And if we cant," asked the Major.
"Then bury it, remove it from memory."
The Priminister walked slowly to his carriage, his two remaining companions slowly followed him while the Major ordered a couple of his men to take care of the deputy Priministers body.
The Major walked over to the carriage and closed the door behind the three men. "There are witnesses sir, the locals."
"You will recieve orders Major," said the Priminister, "all will be taken care of in its own time." With that the carriage left the island and the Major set about disposing of the craft, one way or another.