Father Pacioli returned to the presbytery very tired after a long day in interviews with Channel Nine, fulfilling his promise of an exclusive story and then visiting the wounded and families of those who had been hurt in what had become known as ‘The Second Battle of Broken Hill’. He hung up his cassock and placed his hat on the rack and sighed in relief at coming home safe.
“Father, do you have a moment?” called out Father Greg from his office near the front door.
Father Pacioli took a deep breath, smiled and stepped into his superior’s office saying, “Sure, what can I do?”
“Sit down, sit down,” said Father Greg, looking briefly at the phone and back to Father Pacioli and considered him closely. “Father, you have been stationed here for just over a year and the parishioners are all very happy with you.”
“That’s a relief,” said Father Pacioli, “I thought I was in trouble!’
Father Greg stared at Father Pacioli and continued, “Anyway, I just had a phone call from the Bishop, who had contact from the Vatican. About you.”
Father Pacioli gulped and waited for more.
“You know how you are always doing that alien and alternate research, and often associate with John Simmons, the self professed ‘alternate researcher’,” Father continued, “Well, word has spread much further than Broken Hill.”
“To Rome?” asked Father Pacioli, stunned.
Father Greg nodded, “Yes. Your interview with Channel Nine and subsequent stories portray your central involvement in what happened after the first attack on the train. As unbelievable as it was, no-one can deny the reality. Aliens have visited Earth and attacked without warning.”
Father Pacioli nodded and interrupted, “Yes but it was only very small scale and short term. Just like the attack in New Zealand. I think it is not an invasion but something quite different.”
Father Greg nodded and put up his hand to pause what he knew would be a much longer speech from Father Pacioli, “Yes, yes, yes. You are to report to the Sydney Chancery as soon as you can. The Apostolic Nuncio will meet you there. The Bishop has given you a leave of absence. He is sending me another assistant priest to help while you are away.”
Father Pacioli sat upright, “How long will I be away? Long enough to have a new assistant to help while I’m not here? So, obviously not just the weekend then?”
“I suspect you may be gone a while. Here are your tickets. I called John Simmons and he said he would give you a lift to the airport. He’ll be here in, “Father Greg checked his old fashioned watch, “about 90 minutes.”
Father Greg stood up and offered his hand, and Father Pacioli slowly stood in response. Clasping hands in a firm and friendly handshake, Father Greg said, “You will do well. I think you were called to this mission and were meant to be here when the attack happened. Nothing happens by accident.”
Father Pacioli nodded gravely and said, “God’s will be done.”
Then he nodded at Father Greg and promptly went to his room. He had such a short time to pack! And he might not be back for a while. Luckily he did not have much personal possessions and was waiting at the front door when John Simmons arrived spot on time.
John stopped the car right in front of the door and leapt out to grab Father’s bags, “Come on Father, we’ve got to go. Your plane will waiting when you arrive. This is all a bit of a rush!”
They both got in the car and John rushed off with a wave to Father Greg who watched from the open front door.
“God be with you!” he prayed as he watch Father Pacioli embark on his new mission.
****
On the trip to the airport John updated Father on what had happened since the attack on the train.
“There were more attacks in Afghanistan and then Nepal. Information from these attacks are much more sketchy considering the locations were really remote. We’re getting alien attacks about every twelve hours,” John reported excitedly.
“Any clues as to why they are attacking?” asked Father.
“Not officially, but I do have a theory,” said John.
Father raised his eye brows and John said quickly, “Yes, it’s probably crazy, but hear me out. There are two types of aliens. The rat like creatures which have lots of firepower and act like military or security. Then a whole variety of aliens, all shapes and sizes, who are always surrounded by the ‘guards’”
Father nodded, encouraging John to continue, “And the middle group, let’s call them special, or VIP , or royalty - I don’t know - sometimes shoot at random animals or people. We have a picture of some of them surrounding a goat they killed, “
“A goat?” asked Father.
“Yeah, a goat belonging to one of the Afghani tribesmen. The tribesmen weren’t impressed. Anyway, they gathered around the goat and looked like they were taking photos of themselves and the dead goat. That was when the Afghanis started shooting with their world war two vintage rifles and all hell broke loose. One of the rat guys, probably the second in command as he was uniformed like the boss, got hit in the centre of its head and collapsed. Even though the footage is grainy, I swear it looked like the boss rat rolled his eyes in frustration before getting his guards into action.”
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“Hmm,” murmured Father Pacioli, contemplating an idea forming as to what was happening.
“Anyway, the rat guards fired back with laser guns and the tribesmen fell back. The boss rat guy herded the special aliens to a safer location. And just in time too, as the Afghanis pulled out a SAM - you know, a Surface to Air Missile - and tried shooting at the aliens. It homed in on the heat signature of their huge laser gun, like the one that hit your train, and blew it up along with two of those rat guys. It was awesome!” John grinned. “Take that!”
“Then just as we saw before in New Zealand, the whole alien party shimmered in a blue light and disappeared. You’d think it was a science fiction movie! Anyway, when they disappeared, so did the goat they had killed even though it was nowhere near the group. They must have used a remote tag or something. The Afghani tribesmen were very upset. Apparently the goat belonged to the youngest daughter of the head tribesmen.”
“Can I guess what your theory is?,” asked Father Pacioli.
John groaned and smiled, “I reckon you and I may be on the same wavelength. Ready, On 1, 2, 3!”
“Hunters!” said John as Father said “Safari!”
They nodded.
Father Pacioli said, “It all fits. If our theory is true, we can expect more of these. The locations all seem pretty random. Country New Zealand, desert in the middle of Australia, Afghanistan, Nepal. All very remote. Hmmm.”
“We’re here Father!” said John as he slammed on the brakes bringing the car to a halt. He ran out and grabbed Father’s two bags and handed them to him, “Off you go! I don’t know what the hurry is, but let me know!”
“Thanks John,” replied Father as he placed his hat on his head, “I’ll let you know what I can.”
With that, Father Pacioli walked briskly to the airport and the scheduled flight from Broken Hill to Sydney and his destiny.
****
Monsignor Jones welcomed Father in to the office the Sydney Chancery had let him use for this meeting.
“Father Pacioli,” the Monsignor said, mispronouncing the last name with a hard c.
Father smiled and said, “It’s actually pronounced Patchiolli. Like the 16th century monk that is considered the inventor of double entry bookkeeping.”
Monsignor nodded and asked, “And are you any good at accounting?”
“Nope,” Father answered, “we just share the last name.”
“I have arranged for some refreshments after your long journey. Have you eaten?”
“Just a little on the plane, and a meat pie at the airport as I rushed to the taxi rank,” Father replied.
“That’s not enough,” said Monsignor, “Start on this while I arrange something more.” He then stepped out of the office, allowing Father to drink some of the lovely cold water and eat some Tim Tam chocolate biscuits.
While the flight wasn’t too long, the two hours went very quickly as he pondered what John had told him and reflecting on the battle he had participated in personally. As he thought, he absentmindedly ate the last of the biscuits. “Oops,” he said as the Monsignor opened the door and returned to the office.
He smiled and said, “Glad you enjoyed the cookies. I have taken a fancy to them myself when I can. We have some sandwiches on the way. Have a seat, Father.”
Father Pacioli sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk and Monsignor Jones sat in the other. Father Pacioli looked at the fancy chair behind the desk and the Monsignor smiled, “No, we will sit together like this. What we have to discuss is too important for a large desk to be between us. We will be working together a lot in coming times.”
Nonplussed, Father sat up straight and drank some of the iced water.
“Father, I think you are probably one of the most qualified priests we have to take the lead on a new mission territory we have just discovered. One you have already experienced up close and personal,” Monsignor said, “And by the look in your eyes I think you know what I am talking about.”
“The aliens?” Father said hopefully.
“Yes, the Extra Terrestrial Souls.”
Inwardly Father was equal parts excited and terrified. It is always exciting sharing his faith with new people, but getting shot by hostile aliens is not part of the normal risks of the job.
Monsignor continued, “On the one hand I don’t know how you will get to communicate with them. On the other hand that’s not fully my problem. We have a team for that.”
“A team?” asked Father Pacioli.
“Yes, a team,” said Monsignor Jones, “We are finding suitable candidates on each major land mass throughout the world. As of last reckoning there have been four attacks and none of them have lasted longer than four hours. So if we are to make contact, we need to get in position quickly. I see that you are already an emergency services chaplain and were a military chaplain before that. So we will embed you in the local rapid reaction forces.”
“Have they been established already?” asked Father, surprised.
“No, not everywhere yet. But they will. We are just getting everything in place so you can both assist those you will be serving beside and be a subject matter expert. We will provide you with information we gather from our people, and you can combine it with your friend, John Simmons,” said Monsignor.
“You know about John?” asked Father.
“Yes, we already had an idea about John as he is on the same forums as our researchers, and Father Greg told me about your friend and we were able to connect the dots. John is very much connected with all the information about aliens and now he can put it all to good use.”
“He will be happy to hear that,” said Father, relieved he would have someone to share information with about his new mission territory.
“I have spoken with Major Tierney of the Australian Special Forces. They have already re-purposed one their rapid reaction forces to work with you and as soon as they hear of an attack, you will go with them and hopefully get there in time to make some sort of contact. Major Tierney’s men will also be able to protect the innocents and with appropriate encouragement, convince the aliens it is better to come in peace. Self defence of the innocent is a very worthy mission.”
“What is the rapid response unit called?” asked Father
“Australian Rapid Response Group HQ,” said Monsignor with a straight face.
“ARRGH?” said Father Pacioli smiling, “Who decided that?”
“One of the troopers thought it was good name. He said, and I quote, ‘When I saw what those aliens did to those cows in New Zealand, and the attacks on the train of civilians in Broken Hill, I wanted to make them suffer. Let’s hear them go ‘Aargh!’ Sir.’ The rest of the troopers agreed and the Major thought ‘Why not? If the space force can be called Australian Research & Space Exploration - or ARSE - we can be called ARRGH’”
“That works for me,” said Father Pacioli.
“You will report to me and we’ll keep in touch. Here is the base of AARGH. You may as well report there directly after here as they have a room and bed ready for you. And here are our sandwiches. Thank you,” said Monsignor, thanking the assistant who brought in a plate of sandwiches.
Once they had eaten the sandwiches, Father thanked the Monsignor and went to join the typically Australian named ARRGH to start his new mission. There was no telling when the next attack would come, but Father felt that Earth may discover it was no fun being on the wrong end of a safari.
