"How about just over there?"

"Sounds good."

"Or maybe that rise just over there might be better."

"OK."

"Actually, what about just on the other side of-"

"Cora! Just pick somewhere! It's Antarctica. It's all white and snowy and bloody cold. It doesn't matter!"

"No need to get testy, Mel."

"Get testy?"

"Good point. Marilyn, please land beside that ridge over there."

"Certainly, Cora. Shall I remain cloaked?"

"No, you can uncloak, once you've landed. We need them to be able to find us."

"Why do they want to give me to the aliens?"

"They don't want to, Prime Minister. They just want to save Hobart from being blown up."

"Hobart?"

"Yes, Prime Minister."

"The one in Tasmania?"

"Yes, Prime Minister. I'm not aware of another one."

"Are you being smart with me, Captain?"

"No, Prime Minister."

"Oh. Well, that's alright then. So how does giving me to the aliens save Hobart from being blown up?"

"We've been over this, prime minister. Ten minutes, and two bottles ago."

"Speaking of bottles, this one appears to be empty. Pass the bottle-opener, would you?"

"Don't you think you might have had enough, Prime Minister?"

"That's right."

"That you've had enough, Prime Minister?"

"No, that I don't think that. It was awfully nice of those young ladies to give us a bottle-opener, wasn't it?"

"Well, after you used my gun to shoot the lid off the first bottle, I suspect they thought it would be quieter, Prime Minister."

"Yes, much less spillage, too. So anyway, this Hobart thing. Surely nobody would really miss the place?"

"Prime Minister!"

"Yes, I suppose you're right. My poll numbers aren't great in Tasmania, as it is. This home brew is a rather good drop, don't you think?"

"I suspect most drinks would compare favourably to rubbing alcohol, Prime Minister."

"Oh, I don't know.  It wasn't so bad.   Pass the bottle-opener, would you?"

"You already have it, Prime Minister."