Two Worlds

By Noeline Slowgrove

"An ancient civilisation of humans living underground on Mars, with the capability of space travel, have been abducting humans from Earth for thousands of years. The abducted people, over time have built an Earth Colony in a valley, deep within a mountain range. Both races live in harmony until probes from Earth begin landing on Mars. The ancient race fear Earth will endanger their fragile existence. So...they come up with a plan to send Colonists back to Earth with special abilities in order to bring about international peace on Earth. TWO WORLDS is the journal of Katherine Collins, a young woman, along with her fiancée, who have been abducted and settled in the Earth Colony. Chapter by chapter she writes of her experiences on Mars."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: May 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499004915

Noeline Slowgrove

Noeline comes from the land down under, and lives in Sydney, Australia. Way, way back in a time when authors picked up a pen or tapped away at a typewriter, Noeline was bitten by the writing bug and its creative sting entered her blood. At the age of 12, she won a children’s short story competition. At the age of 27, she won another short story competition run by the Queensland Writer’s Workshop. Over the course of her life, many words have flowed from her pen resulting in a collection of short stories, and several novellas. Back in the 1960’s Noeline joined the peace rallies both in the U.K and Australia. It was at this time the seed of world peace was planted in her mind and the speculative novel “TWO WORLDS”, dormant for many years, finally came into being.

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Copyright © 2014 by Noeline Slowgrove.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 02/15/2022

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Contents

TWO WORLDS   The Introduction

CHAPTER ONE   The Abduction

CHAPTER TWO   Lift off from Earth

CHAPTER THREE   Mars

CHAPTER FOUR   The Red Canyon

CHAPTER FIVE   The Earth Colony

CHAPTER SIX   The Peace Process

CHAPTER SEVEN   Chantu’s Work is Done

CHAPTER EIGHT   The Introduction Glen

CHAPTER NINE   An Orientation of the Colony

CHAPTER TEN   The Wedding

CHAPTER ELEVEN   A Period of Adjustment

CHAPTER TWELVE   Seeking a Job

CHAPTER THIRTEEN   The Adventure Begins

CHAPTER FOURTEEN   Home Improvements

CHAPTER FIFTEEN   A Mishap in the Garden

CHAPTER SIXTEEN   The New Arrivals

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN   Kate and Amelia’s Perilous Adventure

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN   A Visit to a Martian City

CHAPTER NINETEEN   A Sad Farewell

CHAPTER TWENTY   The Election

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE   Goodbye

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO   Katherine’s Reluctance to Leave Mars

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE   Leaving the Earth Colony

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR   Marook

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE   Return to Earth

In Memory of Joan Hall,

and

Thankyou to my sister, Robyn Quinn.

Also, Maria Sanna, Ethel Driscoll,

Rosemary Owens and Wilga Leone.

TWO WORLDS

The Introduction

The Introduction to Two Worlds is a short story telling the tale of a young couple returning to Earth after being abducted by a peaceful, fragile race of ancient humans living on Mars who are intent on keeping their existence a secret from the people of Earth.

After fifteen months living in a Utopian Earth Colony on Mars, Katherine and Peter are returned to Earth with twenty four other abductees on a mission of peace.

The Introduction is the preamble to Katherine’s journal.

TWO WORLDS

Unseen . . . . and until now, undetected, the huge interstellar space vessel, the ‘ZANDRIA’ enters orbit around Earth. Twenty six abductees returning home, line up and are handed their journals by a delicate and fragile young woman called Karlee’al. In small groups, they are preparing to board two space shuttles. All but one, another young woman, are dressed in long white Grecian robes and gowns. Still wearing a plain white cotton shift, the young woman returns to the lounge area on the second level of the Zandria and takes a seat on one of the many couches. Katherine’s fair hair is braided and coiled on top of her head. Eyes crystal blue, she stares at the journal on her lap. Opening it a final time she heaves a sigh. Seconds later she becomes aware, Peter Haslington, her husband is standing before her. His hair is dark and tussled . . . his brown eyes, bearing a glint of merriment, look down on her admiringly. Already fully robed, he says, No more Katie, put away your journal. You have written enough. Get dressed. We will be leaving soon. "But I can’t leave it like this . . . I have to write something about our return. I want this moment to be remembered as much as any other . . . And, then if anyone wants to read my journal, they’ll know what’s going to happen next. Katie, we do not know what is going to happen next."

"But Peter . . ." Katherine persists. "Alright . . . alright . . ." Holding up his hands, Peter gives up. I will talk to Kendaar and see if we can be the last to leave.

With a glance of gratefulness, Katherine looks up to him. "Thanks . . . I don’t have much to write. I’ll just jot down the things I feel are important."

As Peter pushes his way through the white clad group of returnees awaiting their call to board the re-entry shuttles, Katherine removes a small crystal orb from the title page of her journal. Cradling it in her hand, she searches her mind for an ability given her before departure, allowing her to place memories into the orb. Trying without success, she is not able to access the power which will enable her to record her last thoughts of their return to Earth. Maybe, she thinks, the Martians have not given away all their secrets.

Peter returns. Kendaar was agreeable, and, as I thought, we are travelling alone. And we will be on the last shuttle. Frowning, he asks, "What are you doing?"

"Ohh . . . . nothing. After writing by hand, I was just trying to see if I could place my memories into this little orb."

"And . . . you could not?"

No, answers Katherine, shaking her head. "I couldn’t.

Katie, as yet, our minds are too immature.

Shrugging, she replies, I thought, with all these new abilities we have been given, it might be worth a try. Sighing, Peter explains, "Primitive man would not have known what to do with a pen. You . . . or I, pick it up and begin to write in a language they would not have the ability to understand. It is much the same thing."

"Why are you always so . . . right?"

I am not. This is just common sense.

Waving him away, Katherine says, "Go! Go . . . go have a chat with Mark while I finish off my journal."

Instead, sitting on the couch beside her, Peter says, "I’ve already wished Godspeed to Mark and Elizabeth. I will share our last moments on board the Zandria with you . . . if, you do not mind. I do mind. How can I write with you peering over my shoulder?" And then she adds petulantly, Besides, every time you look at my journal you want to correct it.

"No . . . I don’t!"

"Yes you do . . . Not only do I see it in your eyes, I see it in your mind . . . And I’m not even using my mind reading ability."

Well, admits Peter, "there are some things . . ."

"Peter! Go!"

Giving her a kiss on the cheek, Peter stands. "I promise, I have never thought to change a thing in your journal . . . except, I must say, at times I wanted to."

"Which things? What things?"

"The part about the little green men . . . At the beginning of your journal."

Instantly Katherine’s face grows warm with the redness of a blush. She knows this part of her journal seems silly, and it is in her mind to change it. In defence, she explains, "Well . . . actually what I wrote down then is what I saw and felt at the time. When I started this diary, and, that is all it was . . . a diary, I didn’t have a clue how to write." Looking down she is silent a few moments, then her face lights up. "You have to admit, they did look like little green men . . . . and those black googly eyes . . . ."

Peter shakes his head. "They were not little . . . they were thin. They were camouflaged to match the bush and the black googly eyes were shades to protect their eyes from our sun." Then looking sincerely into her eyes, he reassures Katherine, "All jokes aside, you do not need to change a thing. I seem to remember, there once was a great man of peace. His name was Ghandi. He said, and I quote, not altogether correct, but you will get the idea, ‘WHEN I WAS YOUNG I KNEW EVERYTHING. WHAT I KNEW THEN, IS NOT WHAT I KNOW NOW. I GROW FROM TRUTH TO TRUTH.’

Then, adds Katherine, The little green men stay?

"Yes. That is how you perceived them at the time. But darling . . . please get rid of the ray guns!" Katherine glares at him. Peter, raising his hands says hurriedly, "I’m going . . . . I am going . . . !"

Looking towards one of the larger portholes, Katherine’s wonder filled eyes take in the incredible sight of Earth. Below, she can see land masses, oceans, islands and white clouds drifting on their endless journey around the planet. Suddenly a glint of silver catches her eyes. Jumping up from the couch, she presses her face to the porthole and watches the first shuttle leave with its six Earthly passengers and one Martian astronaut on board. Oddly enough, she thinks, the shuttle does resemble a flattened disc . . . a flying saucer. A smile creeps across her face as she watches it head for Earth. Then an outside thought enters her mind. ‘We’re on our way.’ Immediately she knows it is Elizabeth on the first shuttle. Katherine whispers, hoping her friends will hear her thoughts, Goodbye. See you soon. Remarkably, they have. A thought comes back from Mark. ‘We’re being dropped off at Stonehenge . . . of all places. See you soon."

Tears trickle down Katherine’s cheeks with the emotion of the moment. A lump rises in her throat as she watches the shuttle disappear into Earth’s atmosphere. And then another shuttle leaves the Zandria. Twelve people are headed home. Soon, the shuttles will return to collect another twelve passengers. Wiping away tears, Katherine fully realizes their journey has come to an end. Sighing, she thinks, as one adventure ends . . . another begins. By now, every military installation, every high powered telescope, even teenage boy’s telescopes in their back gardens, will have detected the Zandria and her shuttles. Radar will be plotting the paths of the smaller craft as they make their descent to Earth. Fears, wonderment, expectation . . . . A whole range of thoughts and concerns, worldwide, will be circulating around the Globe.

Katherine returns to her journal and writes, "As yet, the people of Earth will not know if they are being visited by friendly extra terrestrials or are being invaded. Radar screens will be lit up and tracing shuttles to the places of their destination. This is not a secret landing . . . Anyone who cares to look at the sky in the drop off areas will see what is happening. Something incredible."

Suddenly Katherine feels a bump and a shudder go through the space vessel. She looks up in alarm. Her first thought is, they are being fired on by a long range missile.

Peter returns. Reading her face more than her mind, he says, "It was just one of the shuttles returning and docking back into the ship. Ooops!" he exclaims while steadying his feet as another shudder shakes the ship. The second shuttle has returned.

Those pilots, Katherine moans, should brush up on their docking techniques.

They’re in a hurry, Peter explains. And then, with a laugh an image comes into his mind. "Can you imagine the sight all of us will look . . . . ? People who haven’t been seen for years, standing in the middle of nowhere, in white gowns and robes, waiting for the rush of police vehicles, helicopters, secret service, and whatever else, to surround us?"

Katherine laughs along with Peter. Then a look of puzzlement crosses her face. I know Martians love many things about the ancient Greeks, but why do you suppose they wanted us to wear these gowns home?

With a familiar glint of merriment in his eyes, Peter replies, Would you fire on an ancient Greek? "No . . . . I wouldn’t. But I do think the people of Earth might find us a bit strange."

And, I think, replies Peter, "that might be the idea. These robes are strange, yet beautiful. They are intriguing and publicity wise . . . a stroke of genius. Pictures of us will be flashed around the world. The people of Earth have many faults, but they rarely want to harm anything or anyone that is beautiful. Think . . . . of babies or baby animals. Then think of beautiful people in ancient garments. Say that again," Katherine lifts her pen. "Say what?"

"The thing about beautiful people in ancient garments. Think of it Peter, missing people of Earth returning as ancient Greeks . . . or that’s what people of Earth could think . . . . I want to write it down." For the next five minutes, Katherine scribbles more than writes as thoughts race ahead of her pen. Then, finally, lifting her head as the next shuttle leaves the ship, she looks to Peter. It’s finished. I’m not writing any more. This is it. Hugging her, Peter replies, Well done. Now, close your book. We’re going home.

Releasing herself from Peter’s arms, she says, Hang on a minute. I want to read you the last paragraph. You’ll love it.

We will miss our shuttle.

No we won’t.

Proudly Katherine begins to read, What an adventure this has been. Looking up to Peter, she gives him a wink. I thought you’d like that bit. And returning her eyes to the journal, she continues, "In conclusion, I would like to say, I began this journal in a place on a planet amongst the stars some fifteen months ago. We, Peter and I, had been abducted by the most amazing, gentle, peace loving people of the Universe. As my husband and I prepare to go home, I have to say, my heart is back with our real home on Mars; the Earth colony.

This is the place where we want to raise our children. This is also the place where many of Earth’s missing men, women and children have gone. They are being cared for by a remarkable and fragile race of people. Another story, a book, telling the tales of these abductees, is yet to be written. Some day soon. In the meantime, we return to Earth and face a million questions. With the best of our ability, we will answer them. When the excitement of our return dies down, Peter and I, Mark and Elizabeth, Ambrose and Amelia, Tom and many other returnees, will begin our mission. Once the intense scrutiny of our return and where we have been has passed, with the abilities and powers given to us by our Martian neighbours, we will endeavour to bring our planet Earth to a place of peace." Looking up from her journal, Katherine asks, What do you think?

Smiling, Peter replies, Could not have said better myself.

As Katherine closes the journal, Peter stands and reaching out, raises his wife to her feet.

Wait a minute, she says, and leaning back towards the couch, your journal. You were almost forgetting your journal.

Never. Get dressed. We have not got all day.

Slipping out of her cotton shift and into a satin Grecian gown, Katherine smooths out the creases and looks to Peter. How do I look? Replying, with a grin on his face, "Mmmm . . . passible." Giving him an affectionate thump, she says, You could have said something nicer.

Before he can continue to banter with Katherine, two attendants, Karlee’al, the fragile young Martian woman and Kendaar, a male enter the second level lounge.

Putting his hands together in the gesture of peace, and bowing his head slightly, the older Martian says softly, Peace be with you. It is time to go.

After returning the gesture of peace, Peter impulsively takes hold of Kendaar’s hand and shakes it vigorously. Sparkles of light erupt between their two hands. Katherine throws caution aside and embraces the young Martian woman. Again erupting sparkles of light surround them. Embarrassed, then regaining her composure, Karlee’al whispers to Katherine, "Take care of yourself . . . and the one to come."

And now it is time to go. The farewells having been said, two pale thin Martians lead the last of the people from Earth down to the awaiting shuttle.

Katherine and Peter, holding hands, step inside the small craft and take a seat behind the pilot. With a clang the door seals shut. Following a droning hum from its power source, then a sideways lurch, the shuttle leaves the Zandria and soars into the blackness of space.

Within seconds Katherine and Peter are staring incredulously through the observation port to the Earth below. Katherine grips the restraining straps around her shoulders and closes her eyes as they streak down through Earth’s atmosphere.

The shuttle settles on an isolated white sandy beach on a small tropical coral atoll in the Great Barrier Reef off the Eastern Coast of Australia.

Abducted and missing fifteen months, Katherine Collins and Peter Haslington are home.

*       *       *

In the Northern hemisphere it is dark. A teenage boy, hugging a journal to his chest, dressed in ancient Greek robes is found wandering in Moscow Square, Russia. A nearby clock sounds midnight. A fine curtain of snow is falling. Another couple, an Afro American man and his wife are located in the Nevada Desert close to Las Vegas, America. An Englishman and his wife are retrieved from Stonehenge on the Salisbury Plains, England. Edinburgh Castle, Scotland is where a Scottish couple are found. In Edmonton, Canada, a doctor, dressed in white satin robes, also carrying a journal, enters a catholic church to find a startled and very surprised priest.

According to the teenage boy, as he is taken to a holding facility in Moscow, there are twenty six people in all, some missing many years, who have returned to Earth. The boy, whose name is Elijah, tells authorities they have been landed in high profile and tourist locations in order for their return to be publicized throughout the world. Turning to a secret service official he says, ‘Hopefully, the return of people missing many years and scattered in countries across the world will be seen as the first initiative of peace by our interplanetary neighbour.’ As much as the Russian President prefers to keep Elijah’s return highly secret, this is not possible.

In the Southern hemisphere, in bright daylight, others are landed in tourist locations. They arrive in small silver shuttles. They come quickly and disembarkation is over within minutes. The shuttles streak away like a flash of lightning, and in a matter of seconds they enter the upper atmosphere and re-join the Zandria.

The young Australian couple are the last of the returnees to be set down on Earth. As yet, the shuttle carrying Katherine and Peter has not departed. Lifting her skirt to her knees Katherine steps elegantly down the small lowered gangway. A journal tucked beneath her arm, she breathes in the warm salty sea air. Peter, also carrying a journal, follows close behind. As he steps onto the hot white sand, he turns and putting his hands together in the last gesture of peace to a Martian standing at the top of the gangway, he says quietly and emotionally, "Farewell . . . . my friend." Peter knows, behind the pilot’s shaded eyes, there would be tears of emotion. With a slight clang, the shuttle door slides and seals shut. Within moments it is airborne and has disappeared.

Katherine is first to slip off her white Grecian sandals. The fine white sand is burning hot. It feels good. Lifting her foot, she lets the sand run between her toes. Peter does likewise. Taking in a deep breath, and turning his face to the brilliance of the sun, Peter sighs, It is good to be home. And Katherine, kicking up a swish of sand, runs to the water’s edge. With an expression of delight she soothes her feet in the crystal clear ocean water. Small waves overlap her toes. She laughs happily, and bending over, cups her hands in the water. Lifting them to her mouth, she shouts back to Peter, "It’s salty . . . .! Oh how I’ve missed the beach . . . . I didn’t want to come back . . . . but now I’m here . . . . It’s wonderful to be back."

So it is, agrees Peter. "Mars does have its limitations. Katie, I can feel the sun burning into my arms . . . ."

I know. Me too. Katherine runs across the sand to Peter and flings her arms about him. "But, it feels so warm. The one thing I won’t miss is that pale watery sun. Peter, I don’t want to be found . . . not yet, anyway." With a grin on his face, Peter replies, "Nor do I. Even so, we should find shade . . . we will burn to a crisp."

A frown crosses Katherine’s face. "They’ll be looking for us . . . . you know they will . . ."

This I know, only too well.

"Well, let them look . . . can’t we hide for a couple of days . . . ?"

Days? And what will we eat?

"Coconuts . . . . This is Earth . . . this is an island. There has to be coconuts . . . ."

But, over there, Peter points to a large island, It is my guess that would be Hayman or Brampton Island, just teeming with tourists who saw us come down.

Then why did the pilot land us here and not over there?

Beats me?

They wanted us to have some time together before all the fuss begins.

You’re making that up?

With a beguiling smile, Katherine replies, "Of course I am. Come on . . . let’s hide."

Leaving the water behind, hands joined, Katherine in her silken gown and Peter in his satin robe, make their way across the strip of hot white sand to a fringe of tropical bush and palm trees surrounding the atoll. Just before they disappear into the dense thicket, they hear the buzz of a helicopter overhead . . . followed by another and another. With luck, they think they may have a few hours together.

Luck is on their side.

While the couple hide in the bush, the helicopters circle three times, swoop over trees, hover over the beach sending up swirling flurries of sand, and skim over shallow waters sending ripples in all directions. When the atoll has been surveyed and the helicopter crew see there are no people waving and wanting to be rescued, in formation the helicopters rise high in the air and head south to another uninhabited island. Not until the buzz of the beating rotors have faded into the distance do Peter and Katherine emerge from the bush.

At last, they are alone, to be by themselves for a few precious hours, to explore the atoll and talk of their experiences of the past fifteen months.

Fingering her wedding ring, Katherine says, "I have changed my mind. It’s good to be home."

It is indeed. First things first. Let’s find fresh water.

Looking up at the sun, its warmth on her face burning into pale and delicate skin . . . skin that has not been touched by the sun for fifteen months, Katherine observes, It looks as though it could be around noon. Then looking back down at the journal tucked under her arm, she sighs, "I wish they’d given us a bag to carry our journals . . ."

Goes to show, replies Peter, They do not think of everything.

Here, give me your journal while you lead the way.

Peter hands his journal to Katherine, and turning, sorts out the least dense part of the undergrowth. Pushing his way through tropical vegetation, palms, spreading vines and moist feathery maidenhair ferns, he beckons to his young wife to follow. Suddenly, several disturbed white birds squawking their indignation from a low branched gum tree, take to flight, rising quickly above the tree tops. Startled, Katherine yelps in fright. Then she squeals, "Parrots!" Peter, also taken by surprise, stops moving forward and lifting his head looks above and contradicts, They’re cockatoos.

"Parrots . . . cockatoos . . . whatever. You always have to be right. They’re birds! And to think, I never thought I’d ever see another bird!"

"Of course you would . . . we were always coming home. Shush," says Katherine. Putting a finger to her mouth, "I hear something . . . . ?" Parting the tropical bush and poking her head through moist laded ferns, and into a small clearing, she whispers, "It’s a droning noise. A noise I haven’t heard for ages and ages. It’s two dragonflies . . . . They’re beautiful . . ."

Very still for a moment, both Katherine and Peter, heads poking through the fernery, are entranced. The dragonflies hover, beat their colourful fragile wings and come within inches of Katherine’s face. Then as if to add to the wonder of a much missed insect world, butterflies dart out of the bushes and flutter around a hibiscus bush, red flowers fully in bloom.

Peter is first to break the silence, "This is the wonderment of our planet . . . . small things which people take for granted. And now I hear chirping? It’s crickets!" whispers Katherine. "And . . . . in the middle of the day? Why not," adds Peter.

Even though the bush is hot and steamy, and air thick with oxygen making their lungs work harder than they have done so for almost a year and a half, the young couple, as they breathe heavily, are captivated by the sounds and music of insect life.

As the chirping of crickets grow louder, Katherine turns to Peter, "I wonder why the only insect life in the Earth colony was fireflies . . . ?

There was more, assures Peter, they just didn’t survive long.

"Oh . . ." Katherine’s face lights up with sudden realization, "That’s why everything had to be pollinated by hand . . . I just worked that one out."

"Katie, you spent too much time in MEMORY and HABITATION . . . You should have spent more time in GARDEN. Let’s move on."

You don’t suppose there could be snakes in this undergrowth?

Could be, Peter agrees. Leading the way, pushing aside ferns and drooping vines, he adds, There could be anything here in this scrub.

Looking over the back of her shoulder, then walking faster she grabs the back of Peter’s robe, "Don’t walk so fast. Wait for me!"

With two journals tucked under her arm, one of Katherine’s sandals catches on a half hidden vine. She trips and falls face down into a mass of feathery moist ferns.

"Peter . . . !" she calls out, a piece of maidenhair caught in her mouth.

Katherine, still clutching tightly, has pulled Peter’s robe halfway down his back. Laughing he looks down at his wife sprawled in the soft green ferns. Then shaking his head, his dark eyes filled with merriment, he reaches down, and gently pulls Katherine to her feet. He draws her close. Lovingly she looks into his face then spits the fern from her mouth. "That was your fault. You were going too fast and made me trip.! It wasn’t nice saying anything horrible could be in the bush." Peter banters back, There could be. Remember, we are back on Earth, Then looking over Katherine’s shoulder, he raises an eyebrow. A look of concern crosses Katherine’s face. "Peter . . . you don’t think . . . . ?"

No, I don’t. It was a very soft, very small fall. You will be alright. Katherine shrugs. Well, I could have hurt myself. Releasing her from his arms, Peter laughs, You are not that fragile. Well, I’m sure I must have a bruise. Shrugging, Katherine smooths out her gown and turns. She now sees why Peter has raised an eyebrow. Her face is within inches from a huge spider web. Her fall forgotten, bending backwards, and lowering herself to her knees, she picks up a fallen tree branch, and raises it ready to strike at the huge spider in the centre of the web. "Don’t!" Peter raises his voice. It’s been here longer than we have. "But, it’s a spider! If I break its web, it’ll run away. Really, I wasn’t going to hurt it. Leave it be. We can go the other way. Come. Have it your way. But you know how much I hate spiders."

"No you don’t hate spiders. You only think you do. This is a creature that means us no harm. You just have to understand them. And . . . it was here first."

In Katherine’s mind she thinks, "He’s been back on Earth five minutes and he’s already trying to make peace between me and a horrible creepy spider!"

I heard that, Peter says out aloud.

Pulling a face behind his back Katherine answers somewhat apologetically, Sorry.

Not turning around, Peter replies, That is not a nice look, Katie.

Sighing deeply, Katherine’s next thought is, Now he’s got eyes in the back of his head

Skirting around the huge gossamer web, Peter parts the undergrowth and ferns, and with surprise, he says, "Look Katie . . . I’ve found a track . . . Not much of a track, but a track all the same."

Still behind Peter, Katherine’s face lights up. "Then . . . this island could be inhabited?"

It is my guess this is an atoll for day trippers from the resort or the mainland. Let’s follow the track and see where it goes.

Even so, track or path, it is not easy going. Rocks jut out from the narrow sandy track. There are puddles of water from a recent rainfall making the path slippery. Lifting her skirt Katherine chooses her steps carefully. Vines, like green snakes drop from overshadowing trees and palms. Wispy, feathery maidenhair ferns grow profusely either side of the track. There are cobwebs everywhere, telling Peter it has been some time since people have walked this path. Above, larger fully formed spider webs cling from tree to tree . . . captured raindrops glistening in the filtered sunlight.

Puffing a little, Katherine complains, "I’m going to get my gown ruined . . . Not to mention my hair." Then trying to pin it back into a coiled plait on top of her head, she moans, "We’re supposed to look our best when we are found . . . ."

"Stop worrying, Kate. This is all part of the adventure. And leave your hair down . . . You do not have to look like you’re going to a ball."

"But Elizabeth said I looked . . . regal with it up."

"Up . . . or down. It always looks good to me."

Having not taken her eyes from the path, Katherine stops, and pointing to the side of the track, exclaims, "Look . . . empty beer cans . . . and chip bags. Fish bones . . . Someone’s been having a party?"

"They’ve been here awhile . . . . the cans are rusty." Then frowning, Peter adds, "This is what gets me angry about Earth . . . . There is no need to litter the bush. You would never see littering in the Colony."

We didn’t have beer cans in the Colony, Katherine retorts.

"Maybe so . . . ."

"Shush . . . I hear voices . . . . ?"

And I also."

As they make their way along the track, the voices and laughter, that of a man and a woman grow louder. The path widens into an expanse of white sand.

I see part of a lagoon, whispers Katherine.

Parting a leafy mass of ferns, Peter adds, "And I see a picnic table, two young people and they are celebrating . . . There’s champagne on the table . . . and chicken in a Kentucky Fried chicken barrel. Haven’t seen one of those in nearly two years."

"Chicken . . . . ?" Katherine’s mouth begins to water. And she can almost smell and taste the chicken. After many months of being vegetarian her head spins with the thought of eating meat again. "Ohhh . . . Peter it looks so good. Kentucky Fried . . . ."

Katherine, stop prattling. Let me think.

"Well think quickly . . . . they’ve spotted us. What are we going to do?"

There’s not much we can do. Let’s go meet them.

As Peter and Katherine emerge from the bush, the young couple stand, and looking alarmed, champagne glasses still in their hands, draw closer to each other and begin moving backwards.

Smiling engagingly, hand extended in friendship, Peter says, "Do not be afraid. We are just a bit lost. I am Peter . . . and this is my wife, Katherine."

The picnicking young couple stare disbelievingly at the intruders. Apprehensively, the young man puts out his hand, looking as though this was not the best of ideas. The girl shrinks behind her companion. Peter takes hold of the young man’s hand and shakes it vigorously.

Hesitantly, in a rich American accent, the young man says, "Um . . . er . . . Howdy. This is my wife, Charlotte. I go by the name of Dave. My wife goes by the name of Charlie." Peter gives him an engaging smile. Starting to look a little more relieved the young American looks Peter and Katherine up and down and smiles. "Been to a fancy dress party . . . ?"

Katherine looks to Peter and realizes what they must look like to the picnickers. "Ummm . . . ummm . . ." she utters a couple of times, her mind searching for an explanation. Before she realizes, she unwittingly says, "No. These are our gala robes. We . . . we . . ."

And face beginning to flush, she falters, "We’re from . . . from . . . That is, we have just arrived from . . . ." Into her head she hears Peter’s voice, "Katherine . . . stop babbling. Let me do the talking." Out aloud, Peter explains, "Katie was trying to say . . . ." Then he too is lost for a suitable explanation as to why they are dressed in Grecian gowns. Finally he says, "Haven’t you been listening to the news . . . or watching television?"

Shaking his head, Dave says, "No . . . . We’re on our honeymoon." And looking suspiciously at Peter, he adds, Why? Should we have had?

"Well yes . . . ." drawls Peter. How long have you been here?

For the first time Charlie speaks. "We came over in a canoe this morning, just after breakfast . . . We heard a couple of helicopters buzzing overhead. But they just hovered around for awhile then went away. Why? You said you were lost. Were they looking for you? Has there been an accident or something?"

"No . . . no . . ." answers Katherine. Peter adds, But, they were, indeed looking for us. Suspicion crosses Dave’s face once again. What’s with you people? Why the fancy dress? What have the helicopters to do with you?

Peter turns to Katherine. They have been here all morning. They have no idea.

Now Dave and Charlie both look anxious. Dave says, We have no idea about what?

Katherine, a grin from ear to ear replies, "Something rather strange . . . in fact very strange yet wonderful." Putting down his champagne glass, in exasperation, Dave says, "I am beginning to think . . . well I don’t know what to think. Helicopters, people walking out of the bush in fancy dress . . . . what are you people up to?"

Still grinning, Katherine blurts out, We have just come from the Earth Colony on Mars.

As Peter tries to supress an involuntary laugh, he turns his head away from the Americans.

For a few moments there is a long and awkward silence. Dave and Charlotte exchange glances, each appearing lost for words.

Peter breaks the silence. I think we should all sit down. And taking hold of Katherine’s hand, he leads the way to the picnic table. To break the tension of an awkward moment, Peter says to Dave, "Got any of that champers left? Katie and I are still on our . . . honeymoon."

Katherine’s eyes widen with surprise . . . . Their honeymoon was wonderful but it certainly had not lasted fifteen months.

Cheerfully, Peter says . . . . "Only two glasses . . . pity."

Nervously, Charlie offers her glass. "Here . . . take mine."

While Dave pours champagne into the glass and passes it to Peter, Katherine hears Peter say in her mind, "We are going to tell them the truth . . . . We will give them something spectacular to remember about their honeymoon . . . something they can tell their children . . . even their grandchildren."

Smiling at Peter, his thoughts still in her head, she nods and replies a thought, "I think it’s best we tell them the truth . . . and it’s like giving them a gift."

Taking hold of Katherine’s hand and squeezing it lovingly, so as to alleviate all concern written across the faces of the young couple, Peter stares into the glass of champagne, brings it to his lips, changes his mind, and passes it to his wife. Then taking in a deep breath, he clears his throat, Just under sixteen months ago, my wife and I were abducted by Martians and taken to Mars.

Suddenly Dave bursts out laughing. No way, he guffaws.

Charlotte, trying to be more polite, turns her head away as a look of astonished amusement crosses her pretty suntanned face. Dave, turning his head first one way, then the other, leans forward and then leans backwards, his eyes searching the bush for something. Unsuccessful at locating what he is looking for, laughter still on his face, leaning close to Peter, and eyeballing him, he finds it difficult to stop giggling. We’re on Candid Camera, aren’t we?

Both Katherine and Peter are taken aback. This is not the reaction they expect. Glancing at each other, Peter’s thoughts again enter Katherine’s mind. "What now?

"Maybe I should try?" she returns a thought to him.

Dave, still looking for a hidden camera, says, "This is the best practical joke . . . . In a minute you’ll be taking us to your flying saucer."

Can’t, says Katherine, shaking her head. It left almost an hour ago.

Well, that’s just too bad, Dave laughs, "always wanted to go for a ride in one of those things . . ." And again he bursts out laughing. Very slowly, so as to make Peter and Katherine understand, eyes filled with mischief, Dave continues, "How about . . . taking us . . . to your . . . leader?" Again he guffaws with laughter.

Touching his arm gently, Charlotte cautions, "David . . . I think the joke’s over. They are obviously having a bit of fun . . . . Helicopters . . . . now flying saucers . . . Australians are known for their sense of fun."

Regaining his composure, Dave apologises, Sorry. Look here mate, he tries to imitate an Australian accent, Did Bruce put you up to this?

Who’s Bruce? Katherine asks.

Still unable to control his laughter Dave explains, "The island Games Director. This is one of his pranks . . . has to be!"

Peter glares at Dave, then he lowers his voice. No. This is no prank. Now, let us all take a deep breath and we will begin again.

Deciding to allow them a few minutes to sort out their thoughts, Peter stands, leaves the picnic table and walks to the lagoon edge, while he too collects his thoughts.

Patiently Katherine waits for her husband to return. No one says a word. Concern begins to grow on the faces of the young couple. With his back turned to them, in his white robes, golden sash across his shoulder Peter does look out of place. And yet, Katherine looks at him with admiration . . . . He seems taller than usual, strong and bearing an air of grandeur. These people, she thinks will not be doubting him much longer. Peter continues to stand motionless, eyes shut, concentrating and exercising his newly acquired powers. Dave and Charlotte begin to be affected by Peter’s persuasive thoughts. A peacefulness encompasses them and their faces change from concern to curiosity. Katherine’s heart begins to flutter and beat faster. This is the first time she has seen Peter use his new abilities . . . for a moment she is in awe of him. She wonders if her own powers will be as effective.

Returning to the picnic table, Peter sits down. In a firm, decisive voice he explains, "We wear these robes, these festive garments, because these are the style of clothes we wear on special occasions in the colony . . . . The Earth Colony on Mars." The young honeymooners, their faces fill with surprise and wonderment, but still bear elements of doubt. Charlotte snuggles protectively into Dave’s arms. They settle back to hear more of the story.

Katherine thinks, This is amazing. We really do have the ability to make people peaceful and believe in us. But Katherine’s thought is premature. It is not going to be that simple. Dave is not easily convinced.

"I would like some evidence. Mars . . . you say?" Sitting up and straightening himself, pulling away from his wife, and eyeballing Peter, he says, Still sounds like a cock and bull story to me. Charlotte leans over and whispers in his ear, "I for one . . . would like to believe them. What’s more, I want to believe them. It sounds fascinating . . . ."

With scepticism Dave continues to stare at Peter, The facts, man. This is like the X-files. A lot of hooey and no supporting evidence.

Glancing down at their two journals on her lap, taking over from Peter, Katherine replies, "I can give you evidence." Then turning to her husband, Can I show them?

Go ahead Katie. I believe I am not having much success

Reflectively Katherine looks down at her journal. Placing it on the table before her, she says, "I am going to show you something wonderful, something not yet of this Earth. An object which will show memories. I am going to show you Mars. I am going to show you some of Mars’ gentle peace loving people. And . . . as you two have just been married, I am going to show you, mine and Peter’s wedding ceremony. You will be both impressed and amazed."

While Dave and Charlotte exchange puzzled glances, Peter watches Katherine as she manages the explanations . . . . pride clearly written across his face.

Before opening her journal, Katherine takes a deep breath. Here goes, she heaves a sigh.

Opening the cover, Katherine carefully removes a small glowing crystal orb, from an indentation embedded in the title page of her journal.

This, she explains, "is what I like to call . . . a memory ball. It goes with our journals . . . Like pictures or photos go with a book. When activated, it will show you depictions of our life on Mars." Looking up at Dave, Katherine adds, "The facts Dave . . . and, the evidence."

Placing the small glowing object on the picnic table, Katherine closes her eyes, and brow knitted in concentration, with her mind she activates a store of memories held within the crystal ball. To Dave and Charlotte’s immediate surprise, tiny three dimensional holograms spring to life. They are human. Pale, thin Martians dressed in silken white robes, perfect in every way are chatting amongst themselves. It appears like a scene from ancient Greece.

I don’t get it, says Dave, his eyes wide with astonishment.

Just watch, suggests Peter. This is real."

For a little over thirty minutes, Dave and Charlotte, becoming more and more entranced and aware of the importance of what is unfolding before them, watch the three dimensional memories of an abduction, Martians in their underground cities, their sophisticated space craft, the amazing Earth Colony . . . and finally, a starlit wedding ceremony in an ancient Greek temple, on a hill within the colony. Holding candles, several hundred people from Earth, are in attendance.

Is there more you want to see? Katherine asks the enthralled young honeymooners.

I think, answers Dave, "We’ve seen enough to be convinced. Mars? Unbelievable . . . ."

With a laugh, Peter gives Katherine a wink and turning to Charlotte, "This is something for you to tell your children . . . . and your grandchildren."

Closing her eyes and concentrating on the small orb of holographic memories, Katherine uses her mind to deactivate the three dimensional characters. In a cloud of mist, they disappear.

Carefully she returns the small crystal object back into her journal. Sensing a sound, Peter raises his head and looks skyward. In the distance, he can hear the drone of a helicopter. They are back. Time with the newlyweds is nearing an end. Dave and Charlotte have seen all they need to see to remove all doubts from their minds. They are privileged to be the first people on the Eastern Coast of Australia to see living, moving enactments of Katherine’s memories.

Not far away, first one, then another . . . . and another helicopter land on the beach.

Standing up, and tucking their journals back under her arm, Katherine puts out her hand to Dave and Charlie . . . . "It was nice to meet you. All the very best for your future. We have to be going. They’ve come for us." Reaching out and shaking Katherine’s hand, Dave exclaims, "Wow! What a ride. Who . . . are they? Who are coming to get you?" Shrugging his shoulders, Peter answers, "The Air Force, I presume . . . Or a Special Unit to deal with unidentified flying objects . . . . or maybe they already know about us . . . . Whatever, they are here." Next Dave takes hold of Peter’s hand. I still find this hard to believe.

A huge grin on his face, Peter says, "Just wait till you read tomorrow morning’s newspaper. There are another twenty four of us . . . and, more to come."

Leaving Dave and Charlotte behind, Katherine and Peter make their way along the water’s edge of the lagoon and back to the beach where they know the helicopters have landed.

Surprisingly, only one has remained. The other two are returning to the mainland. As soon at the rotors stop turning and the fine white sand has stopped whirling in all directions, several Air Force personnel, in full uniform regalia, step from the helicopter and greet the returnees from Mars with warmth and welcome smiles.

Some hours later, after being transferred to a small V.I.P. jet, Katherine and Peter are flown to a top secret Air Force base in the centre of Australia. To their surprise, they are treated like homecoming celebrities. There is very little interrogation. Mostly all information about their disappearance and return has been gathered from various sources dealing with the other twenty four returnees. And now, in this hidden underground facility, Secret service agents, Air Force personnel, invited members of the press and associated office staff listen as Peter and Katherine tell their story. Each and every one of them look on in wonder as Katherine produces their small crystal balls from the title pages of their journals. The people watch, fascinated as three dimensional holographic figures enact memories of their abduction, their life in the Earth Colony, their association with the people of Mars and the eventual return to Earth.

After awhile Peter happily announces to everyone in the Special Ops. room, "Another thing . . . . there is crystal orb as large as a soccer ball that inserts into a device similar to a D.V.D player. It holds the memories of the history of Mars and her involvement with the people of Earth." Immediately Peter has the attention of every person in the room.

An Air Force General raises his arm to speak then lowers his arm. A young female stops tapping on her computer and turns towards Peter. The General opens his mouth to speak.

It is, Peter explains, "in the possession of one called Mark Andrews. You may know of him. He was the former British Minister of Foreign Affairs . . . ." Peter laughs. And that was not meant to be a pun.

Surprise crosses Katherine’s face. "I never knew Mark was that important . . . . I thought he was just a very junior Member of Parliament? A very junior member . . . ."

You never joined our debating group. Now, stop interrupting. Continuing, Peter holds his audience spellbound. This man, when he is released from quarantine, will resume his place within the British Government. He will not stay long. He will take up a position within the United Nations Assembly. The day will come when he will stand on a podium and face the United Nations. Once he has the attention of the world, he will present, in full size depictions, the history of Mars and her connection with Earth."

An awed silence fills the room.

Finally, the General asks, "And . . . exactly when will this happen?"

Soon, Peter replies. As soon as Mark has dealt with his counterparts in Britain and prepared for the others returning.

The General’s mouth opens but before he can speak a barrage of questions come from the gobsmacked members of the Press. One voice, louder than all the others, yells out, How many others?

Matter of factly, Peter answers, "A number exceeding a hundred . . . . Not all are on a mission of peace . . . . Some have been missing for many years and just want to come home."

With a secretive smile on her face, Katherine tugs at the edge of Peter’s robe, goes up on her toes and whispers in his ear, We best not tell them, they are all returning with special powers.

Everyone in the room notices Katherine’s secret whisper. They look at the couple expectantly. Peter shrugs . . . . "It is nothing . . . . nothing at all. And now ladies and gentlemen, this has been overwhelming for both Katie and I. Shall we meet again tomorrow?"

Almost reluctantly, the General nods his head. Already Peter has taken command of the situation.

Similarly, scattered across Earth, twenty four other people, returnees from Mars, all placed in quarantine, have been interviewed for many hours by authorities. All have willingly shown their personal holographic memories attached to their journals.

In accordance with the Martian protocol of spreading peace, the returnees exercise their newly acquired ability of creating the feeling of peace and well being into the minds of those of those about them.

This is the beginning of a plan to bring about peace between two worlds.

*       *       *

Six days after having been released from the Australian authorities, and flown back to their home town north of Newcastle, their journals and glowing crystal memory orbs back in their possession, Katherine and Peter decide to return to where it all began.

A sunny afternoon in the bush on the outskirts of an Australian town, engaged to be married a second time, Peter and Katherine struggle over getting a fire started on their barely adequate bar-be-cue. There is no meat . . . much to Katherine’s dismay. Having become totally vegetarian, Peter believes not eating meat is one of the paths to peace. So, lentil burgers, smoke roasted potatoes, corn, bread rolls . . . and, billy tea, it is. While Peter takes too long over making fire, Katherine wanders off. She sniffs the bush air, appreciating the fragrance of the eucalypt trees. The chirping of birds hidden in the foliage of the gums bring a smile to her face. Glancing up at the sky, she almost expects to see a silver disc descend from the sky. Somewhat disappointed, she makes her way back to Peter. Their robes are gone, having served the purpose of telling the people of Earth that an ancient Greek culture exists on Mars. They appear to be a very ordinary couple. Katherine is dressed in white shorts and a pale blue blouse and Peter wears fawn cargo pants and a dark shirt. They are not an ordinary couple. On Katherine’s left hand . . . the wedding ring is missing. The disappointment on her mother’s face when she explained she was already married, and had been for fifteen months, leads Katherine to plan on remarrying Peter, this time a simple ceremony for family and friends.

I’m keeping my wedding ring, Katherine assures Peter as she looks down on her ringless finger. Pre-occupied with trying to get the bar-be-cue going, he stares miserably at the pile of twigs and paper under the iron cooking plate. "Peter! I’m talking to you!"

"I heard you. And I should hope you do keep your wedding ring . . . . I will not be making you another one. Dam!"

Dam what?

"Who said rubbing two sticks together would make a fire?

"Bear Grylles . . ."

He uses flint.

That’s when he can’t get the fire started.

"Come on Peter. I’m starving. You can never get a fire started this way. For goodness sakes, use the flint or use your powers. Positive thought Peter . . . . Positive thought!"

Shaking his head Peter replies, "No . . . no. We are not supposed to use our abilities for this, that or anything else trivial."

In her head, Katherine thinks, Helping to get a little fire started wouldn’t hurt anyone.

I heard that, Peter says out aloud.

And," replies Katherine, "You know we’re not supposed to read each other’s minds, here, there or . . . anywhere!"

Truce? laughs Peter.

Truce. Here, take the matches. I am reminding you once again, I’m starving.

No matches. I am going to get this fire started. I’m determined. I did it on Mars and I’m dam well going to do it on Earth.

Okay. have it your own way.

Looking around the bush setting where they have set up their picnic, Katherine, stands, hands on hips, turns away from the bar-be-cue and once again takes in the scene of their surroundings.

The air is fresh and fragrant. But the struggling vegetable garden, a pathetic citrus orchard with rotting fruit on the ground, a small rundown farm house surrounded by over grown bush and closely clustered gum trees forming a natural barrier to the outside world is not the most picturesque sight. The property belongs to Peter’s uncle, three times removed. Demetrius had taken a holiday to Greece several months previously, and somewhere in the Grecian Isles has disappeared. No phone call. No postcards. He went fishing with some mates and mysteriously disappeared. The newspapers reported he and his companions were swamped by an unpredicted storm. Floating debris of the fishing boat seemed to prove their report. Until their bodies are found, all three men are still listed as missing persons. As Katherine stares at the derelict house, then looks up to the sky and the sun catches her eyes. She tries to stifle a sneeze . . . unsuccessfully. Peter looks up. Bless you, He returns his attention to the tiny twigs sitting on a bed of slowly smouldering paper. It looks as though his attempts of making fire are beginning to make progress.

I wonder what really happened to your uncle? Not looking away from his struggling fire, Peter mutters, Probably up there. "Well, if he is up there, we didn’t see him. And if he was . . . surely he would have recognised you . . . after all there weren’t like thousands in the colony. No . . . . I think the ocean got him. I wonder who he left this property to?"

"Dunno . . . . BINGO! We have fire. WHOOPS . . . ." A sudden flame leaps from the bar-be-cue coming close to Peter’s face. Wasn’t expecting that.

It was the kerosene you put on the twigs. You cheated.

"Now . . . now . . . Katie . . . We have fire and that is what is important."

I suppose so. You always have to be right. Peter, I’m thinking, I don’t think I can do it. It’s going to be much too hard.

Peter straightens himself. "You don’t have to. I am cooking . . . and we will have us a great bush tucker meal."

No. I don’t mean this bar-be-cue. I mean about writing a book about everything that has happened to us and all the people in the Earth Colony. About Samual, Doctor Horatio Fitzwilliam, the Martians, Torr, the radiated Pink Sands. There’s just too much for me to think about and to remember. I have no idea how to get started.

Standing up and putting both hands on Katherine’s shoulders, looking deeply into her eyes, Peter says, "I won’t say it will be easy . . . because I do not have a clue. As you know Katie, I am no writer. But, you did make a promise to Samual."

"I know . . ." Katherine moans, "But it’s going to be so hard . . . I’ve never written a book."

"Well then . . . don’t write a book. Make it a journal. Your journal. Katie, you’re a great writer. This is what you’ve been doing for almost a year and a half . . . your journal and the journals of many others, including mine. And your journal is already written. Stop worrying."

"But a journal is not the same as a book . . . and besides all the returnees have one. Who would be interested my life, the things I’ve seen and been writing about?"

"Your parents, your friends . . . . the World. Remember the promise you made to Samual? The book his young wife never lived long enough to write. Include Samual’s story in your journal. You do not have to write everyone’s story, just the ones involving our time on Mars."

"But it’s so hard . . . and I have a wedding to plan and there are speaking tours and there’s so much to do."

"Katie . . . you have already written everything in your journal that is of importance to you.

Just edit and add more memories as you go through your journal. You will find it will be easier than you think."

But what if it isn’t?

"Yes it will. Be positive. If not . . . use your powers . . . your abilities. Somewhere in re-reading your journal you will find inspiration. You will find the right words."

"Peter . . . . I’ve looked for inspiration . . . none comes. And I’ve never been good at English. In a journal it doesn’t matter if the commas are not in the right place, and if the spelling is wrong." Eyes cast down, Katherine moans, "And when I think about it, when I first started writing my journal . . . it was awful. All about the little green men . . . flying saucers and life support capsules. Looking back it all seems so silly. People would laugh their heads off when they start reading the first chapter of my journal . . . even I cringe at the thought of what I wrote."

Katie, Peter, lifts her chin, it’s the way you saw things at the time. It is a true account of what you experienced. And . . . your journal does get better and more interesting the more you wrote and the longer we were on Mars."