Far From Home - Part 2 Read online

  "Far from Home - Part 2"

  Tony Malone

  Copyright 2009 - Tony Malone

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  Cover Photo - "Up in the Sky"

  Copyright 2009 - Tony Malone

  A Beagle is a small dog with floppy ears and a mild manner which makes it an ideal pet. It was bred for hunting because of its keen sense of smell, and it is often used as a sniffer dog in airports (detecting anything from explosives to contraband bananas). The most famous Beagle in the world is probably Snoopy - even if he is fictional. No Beagles appear in this story.

  HMS Beagle began life at Woolwich Dockyard in 1820. At the end of 1831, she set sail on her second voyage, with a certain Charles Darwin on board (a partnership which was to be repeated on the ship's third voyage). In 1870, she was sold to be broken up for scrap. She too has very little, if anything, to do with this story.

  Beagle 2 was a British landing spacecraft which was intended to land on the surface of Mars on Christmas Day, 2003. It was called Beagle 2 as it was named after Darwin's HMS Beagle (which, naturally, was Beagle 1), hoping to do for human knowledge of Mars what Darwin's voyages did for human knowledge of nature (and evolution). Unfortunately, no message was sent from the lander to the waiting scientists, and it was assumed that the spacecraft had been lost, either because of an over-speedy crash-landing, from bouncing back into space (Mars' gravitational field is nowhere near as strong as Earth's) or because it simply missed. The mission team was disappointed; the pop group who had recorded a song for the lander to transmit back to Earth were devastated. The thoughts of the Beagle were (obviously) unrecorded. This is where our story starts?

  *****

  The aide left the room, and the Prime Minister invited his guest to move over to a more comfortable spot in the corner of the room, two leather armchairs either side of a (rarely used) fireplace. The two men sat down, silent, considering, going over ideas in their minds, wondering what exactly the other was thinking. Interplanetary politics.

  The Ambassador cleared his throat. He started to talk.

  "Forgive me, Prime Minister, if this is not the correct channel. Perhaps I should not have come straight to you, but I, as you can imagine, am not entirely free in my handling of this affair?"

  The Prime Minister nodded and made a dismissive gesture with his hand, an invitation to continue.

  "The Martian government keeps a very close eye on its citizens on Earth; we are, as you would say, a very tightly-knit community." The Ambassador leaned forward slightly. The Prime Minister could see his features more clearly now: the aquiline nose, the blood-shot yellowish eyes, the dark, thin lips?

  "As you can imagine, the government is facing a lot of pressure from certain? elements, shall we say within the community. Those who were never very keen on exploration and diplomacy in the first place". The Ambassador smiled. "Some would even say that your name for our planet was actually fairly apt, Prime Minister. There are a few voices whose opinion of your planet is fairly dim."

  It was the Prime Minister's turn to smile. "Luckily, as I understand it, those voices are in a small minority; I would hate to think that this was the view of the average Martian."

  The Ambassador sank back into his chair. "Of course not, Prime Minister. Rest assured, we know full well the advantages of good relations with our neighbours." A smile. "Even if they are not that close."

  A pause. The Ambassador straightened in his chair and looked away (scrutinising the delicately-carved fireplace, perhaps?) before continuing. "However,?" He looked to one side, seemingly searching for the right words, diplomatic ones, no doubt. "However, this is one attack too many. I believe that this time empty words will not be enough." Seeing a frown start to spread across the Prime Minister's face, the Ambassador hastily corrected himself, sweeping the air aside with his hand as if to erase his words from existence. "Forgive me, I am not saying that nothing has been done until now, just that?"

  The Prime Minister, in his turn, wafted the words away into the crisp, diplomatic air of the room.

  "I understand. But why now? What's so special about this case?"

  "Nothing. The boy is just another student, he has no important connections. It's just, as you would say, the grass that broke the camel's back."

  *****

  The Beagle (as you may already have perceived) did not, of course, crash into the Martian surface. Nor did she (as a vessel, if unmanned, she deserves to be treated as a lady) miss her target or even ricochet back into the depths of space. If our poor, lonely Beagle were still floating alone in the direction of the nearest galaxy, our story would never have happened. Paul would not have been brutally attacked. The Ambassador and the Prime Minister would not be having their diplomatic t?te-?-t?te.

  No, the Beagle reached her target alright. It's just that someone was already there, waiting for the message sent from Earth, finally ready to talk back. As our intrepid little metallic dog was safely descending into the crater chosen for its landing (and, by the way, congratulations must go to the British ground control team - your aim was spot on. Well done.), the ground opened up, and, instead of settling into the soft Martian dust, the Beagle drifted down into a dark opening. And then the ground closed up again.

  *****

  "Rest assured, Ambassador, the matter will be dealt with in the correct manner. I have no doubt that the culprits will be detained shortly and punished. I will ensure that the matter receives the appropriate attention from those responsible."

  The Ambassador smiled. "I do not doubt that, but it's not just about justice being done, it's about justice?", he paused again, searching for an appropriate expression.

  "?being seen to be done?", the Prime Minister offered.

  "Exactly." The Ambassador smiled and leaned forward. "You see, the people back home, they hear of the attacks, the bad things, the problems, but, but? they do not hear of the follow up, the good news, the cooperation, the positive side of our relationship. This is what needs to be done. When the culprits are caught, this needs to be widely publicised, the newspapers should frown upon the assault, the television channels should condemn the stupid boys who would do such a thing?" The Ambassador had stood up, waving his hands vigorously, addressing himself more to the ceiling than to the Prime Minister.

  "Of course?"

  At the Prime Minister's words, the Ambassador stopped, a sheepish expression appearing on his face (or, at least, an expression which a human would have assumed was sheepish), and sat down, folding his long frame back into his chair.

  "Don't forget, there is only so much I can do. A free press means a certain independence of views, I won't be able to mandate the reaction of the newspapers." A smile. "However, I'm sure that any minister who is asked for an opinion on this matter will be very quick to condemn attacks on visitors to our country."

  The Prime Minister stood up. "Would you like some tea?"

  *****

  Our intrepid lander friend, Beagle, as she saw the ground close over her head, might have wondered what was happening. When a second opening appeared directly below her, she would probably have begun to have serious concerns. On seeing a light bursting brilliantly from the heart of what was thought
to be a dead planet, she would definitely have had a few questions. Unfortunately, being merely an expensive dune buggy/chemistry set, she was unable to fill us in on these feelings when eventually returned to her rightful owners.

  Which is a shame. They would have been very interesting to hear about.

  The astute reader would have surmised by now that the red planet was not quite as uninhabited as once thought and that the locals had decided to take a closer look at the metallic canine visitor who had decided to (quite literally) drop in. However, please do not think that this was a first for the underground dwellers of Mars; in fact, several probes had already been discovered on the surface in the past and taken inside for closer inspection. They had been well aware of us for quite some time. The only difference here was that this was the straw (or grass) that broke the camel's back. Ironically, first contact came about because our neighbours were fed up of cleaning up our rubbish?

  *****

  "Tell me, Mr. Karr", said the Prime Minister, after the young lady bringing the tea had left the room again, "how are you finding life in Australia? How are your family coping?"

  The Ambassador put down his cup of tea (Russian Caravan, if you must know - a particular favourite with Martians for some reason) and his face lit up.

  "Ah, my family love it here! The space, you understand, the space! At home, things are easier, everything is automatic, we know everyone? just?", his eyes met the Prime Minister's, beaming with a joy which was infectious and compelling, struggling to express what he was feeling. "It's just very different to live outside, to be able to stand on the surface and not be afraid, to breathe without machines?". A grin. "Unfortunately, it means we must apply sun-screen religiously every day. Once sun-burned, twice shy, no?", and the tall man let out a booming laugh, frightening the young tea lady , who was clearing up breakfast things a hundred metres down the corridor. The Prime Minister smiled.

  "And I am beginning to understand your country concept," he continued (once he'd got over his impressive fit of laughter), "as difficult as this can be for us. This need to talk about the same thing with hundreds of different groups, all from the same planet, it was, I can tell you, very confusing for us at first. Why are the Americans saying yes to visas when the Chinese are saying no? Why can we set up an embassy in London but not in Paris? Why is Australia considering extradition treaties when Brazil won't even talk to us about the idea?" A shrug of the shoulders. "I know there are a lot more Earth people than Martians, but still? Why are there so many different countries?"

  "It's a fair question", thought the Prime Minister.

  *****

  And so it came to pass that on the 26th of January (coincidentally enough, Australia Day, although that had little to do with the timing of the visit), a Martian ship entered the Earth's atmosphere, signifying its peaceful intent by broadcasting audio segments of old science-fiction films where the visitors vow only to have come in peace (interspersed with music ranging from Beethoven to Blur to Britney Spears - this was possibly intended to show an interest in Earth culture). Of course, real life rarely imitates popular culture, and, for reasons known only to the visitors themselves (and they've never really explained why), the Martian terranauts, ambassadors of an ancient and technologically-advanced civilisation, landed their elegant space craft in a park just outside Adelaide's CBD.

  After a couple of minutes, in which the world speculated on the motives for the visit and the reasons behind the aliens' decision to land where they did, the ship took off again and landed, a matter of minutes later, in New York's Central Park (jokes regarding the possible gender of the pilot and navigator were, for a short time at least, a staple on late-night chat shows all over the world - but particularly in Sydney and Melbourne). The rest, as they say, is history?

  *****

  The two men stood up and shook hands, wished each other's family well and left the room (in opposite directions). The Prime Minister walked slowly to his office, looking back at the unexpected meeting, playing back every expression, every gesture of the conversation in his mind, looking for something which may, or may not, have been there, hiding below the surface of ingrained diplomacy. Martians were very open with some things, but with others?

  He reached his desk, sat down and picked up the telephone.

  *****