Jon Bonniface and Bill Henderson stared across the bush, the early morning sun stretching their shadows across the red dust.  It was the seventh day of their walkabout, and the booze had run out on day four.  Normally that would have been reason enough to go back home, but they’d continued, partly out of respect for their aboriginal heritage, partly because of the majesty of the outback, but mostly because of the disputed ownership of a vanful of televisions back in town.
 
They stared in silence for a long time, until Jon shook his head.
 
“You know what that is?” he asked.
 
“A UFO,” replied Bill.
 
“That’s a bloody UFO,” said Jon.
 
It was undeniably a UFO.  Several days’ sobriety confirmed it.  Even at a couple of kilometres’ distance, it was obvious.  It was larger than a city block, yet it floated a few metres above the ground, like a fairground balloon.  Lights flashed across a surface riddled with antennae and arcane protrusions.
 
“You think anyone knows?” asked Jon.
 
“Bound to.  Radar, satellites, the Interweb.  The Yanks will know for sure.  Even our lot, probably.”
 
“So I reckon the police’ll be along soon enough.  Know what I think we should do?”
 
“We should have it away on our toes before the police arrive.”
 
“We should scarper, quick,” said Jon.
 
They turned, but before they’d taken more than a handful of steps the ground thumped beneath their feet and their ears popped.
 
“What the bloody hell was that?” asked Jon.
 
“Beats me,” said Bill.
 
By wordless agreement they broke into a trot, but a few metres later they slowed to a stop.  In front of them the air shimmered like a heat haze.  It spread on either side, arcing round like a giant pair of arms.
 
“What’s that, you reckon?” asked Jon.
 
“A force field?”
 
“I think that’s an alien force field, that’s what I think.  Try walking through it.”
 
Bill looked up at his friend for a long moment, then bent down and picked up a rock.  He hurled it at the invisible wall.  It bounced back.
“That’s a force field, right enough,” said Jon.  “We’re trapped.”
 
Bill shrugged.  “On the plus side, the police can’t get in.”
 
“You’re a real glass half full sort of guy, you know that?”
 
They turned.  In front of the UFO a small plume of red dust indicated something speeding towards them.
 
“You reckon they want us to take them to our leader?” asked Jon.
 
“What?  Mayor McKenzie in Dry River?”
 
“Reckon it’ll be bigger than that.  They’ll want the leader of the free world.”
 
“What, all the way to Canberra?”
 
“Reckon so.” They’d been treated fairly for the last couple of days.  It was no worse than the town lockup, of which both men had first-hand experience.  Communication was slow, consisting of sketches and slow, loud talking.  They’d been poked, pricked and had various instruments attached, but no anal probing as yet, to both men’s relief.
 
The aliens weren’t too bad, despite a certain reptilian look to them.  Jon reckoned he could take one on in a fair fight, but Bill pointed out they’d never yet fought a fight fairly.  Besides, there were scores of them, and most of the time they wore armour.
 
The two men were discussing whether aliens would have any beer left after an interstellar voyage when the cell door slammed open and a squad of aliens escorted them through now familiar corridors towards the medical bay.
 
“More tests?” asked Jon.  “How much more blood are they going to take?  I’ll be walking around with an empty arm if they take any more.”
 
“Might not be blood this time,” said Bill, and clenched his buttocks tighter.
 
They were marched into the medical room, but this time the examination tables were already occupied.  Two alien bodies lay on the slabs.  One of the invaders shoved Jon towards one of the bodies.
 
“Jeez, look at the state of that,” said Jon.  The body was indeed a state.  The abdomen had been ripped to pieces.  The one they’d come to think of as the doctor shoved a pad at Jon.  On it he’d drawn an unmistakable cartoon figure.
 
“You know what I think did that?” said Jon,
 
“A roo,” answered Bill.
 
“That’s a roo, that is.  A Kang-ga-roo,” Jon explained, loudly and slowly.  “Vicious buggers, them.  Sit back on their tail and gut you with their claws.  You don’t want to mess with them.”  Jon stepped up to one of the guards and tapped his armoured stomach.  “Best keep that on, eh?  Keep – your – armour – on, savvy?  Or just keep out their way.”
 
The doctor shoved Jon towards the other body.  This one looked intact, its body still partly clad in armour.
 
“What happened to this one, then?” asked Jon.  “Not a roo.  A heart attack?  Not enough jogging, eh?”
 
The doctor held out a small plate.  It contained a smear surrounded by bits of exoskeleton.
 
“You know what I think that is?” said Jon.
 
“A redback,” answered Bill.
 
“That’s a redback spider, that is.  A red-back!  You want to keep clear of them, too.  Armour’s no good with them, I reckon.  And you might want to spray your ship.  Just saying.  They like houses, they do.” “How long have we been here?” asked Jon.
 
“A week, I reckon,” said Bill.
 
“I reckon it’s been about a week.  And what’s the tally?”
 
“One roo, two redbacks, a funnel web and a taipan.”
 
“They got to be the unluckiest aliens in the world.  Five dead in one week?”
 
“Maybe it’s the force field.  Maybe it drives them towards the space ship.”
 
“You reckon?  Maybe we should tell them.”
 
Bill considered it for a moment.  “No, I reckon they’d have dropped it by now if they wanted.  Besides, the police will be on the other side, remember?”
 
The floor vibrated and a whine filled the air.
 
“What do you reckon?” asked Jon.
 
“We’re moving.”
 
Jon nodded.  “Let’s hope they’re moving closer to a pub.” “Africa?”  asked Jon.
 
“Reckon so,” said Bill.  “You saw them fellas.  Masai.”
 
“How’d you reckon?”
 
“Saw it on National Geographic.”
 
“So they left Oz?  Why?  It’s God’s own country.”

Bill shrugged.  “Beats me.  But you saw the goon squad leave earlier?”
 
“What about them?”
 
“Their body armour.  They’re virtually one-man tanks.  They’ve never been that heavily armoured before.  You think they’re scared they’ll meet more roos?”
 
“Don’t be daft.  There aren’t any roos in Africa.”  Jon frowned.  “Are there?” “That’s a hippo,” said Jon, staring at the pad.  He tried to avoid the mess on the table.  It was going to take cutting equipment to get the remains out of the tangled wreckage of armour.  

---

“Lion,” said Jon.
 
“No, leopard,” said Bill.
 
“One or the other,” agreed Jon. “Grizzly.” “Rattlesnake.” “Polar bear.” “Tiger.” “Elephant.” “Mozzie.  Mosquito.” Jon and Bill watched the UFO accelerate into the sky, dwindling into a dot before disappearing entirely.
 
“What do you reckon?” asked Jon.
 
“Reckon they left.”
 
“Yeah, I reckon they’ve gone.  Why’s that, you reckon?”
 
Bill stared at the sky.  “Reckon they just didn’t like Earth.”
 
Jon shook his head.  “You reckon?  What’s not to like?”