“What do you mean they’ve heard us?!” Bellowed plutoCen Kr’Dorir as he shattered his lectern with another of his trademark single punches. Shards of the reinforced and unbreakable plastic/metal compound material shot in all directions around the Council Chambers, causing several of the delegates to dive for cover, and embedding themselves into the reinforced clothing worn by others, in readiness for such a situation. plutoCen Kr’Dorir was positively fizzing – and not in a good way.
Unfortunately, the new Ambassador of Makemake wasn’t properly attired, and a lengthy shard punctured the sleeve on her expensive and delicate tunic.
plutoCen Kr’Dorir simply glared and looked toward his media spokesman. “Sort that” he bellowed, thumbing in the ambassador’s direction, “and then come with me to the War Rooms so we can discuss this matter in private.”
“Me, plutoCen?” Rep Alno Stonerav’n stuttered, as he pulled second-in-command El-Smala to her feet.
“YOU???” the plutoCen was now very red in the face. “Of course not. I was referring to plutoTwo El-Smala. Why on Pluto would I want a media spokesman in a private meeting? You will get the twisted facts when we are ready, and not before.” He then promptly walked out of the chamber and through an old wooden door which led into the really old part of the Chambers.
El-Smala gushingly apologised to the ambassador, and left her in Rep Alno’s hands and promptly followed the plutoCen. Rep Alno looked at the ambassador with a gentle smile. “You know he’s a tad hot-tempered, don’t you?” He asked. The ambassador rolled her eyes and poked a finger through the hole in the sleeve with a sigh.
Through the heavy wooden door, the plutoCen’s voice could still be clearly heard, as though he was still in the room. The remaining delegates in the Chamber gathered quietly round the door, including Makemake’s ambassador.
“What do you mean they’ve spotted our drones? What are drones” followed by mumbled muffling.
“At their airports in their United Kingdom? Our surveillance spheres have been noticed?” More muffled words. “Grounded? Hahaha! That will teach them for interfering. Did they get our sphere?” Even more muffling. “Good! Try another of their countries, just to see how sophisticated the are.”
Another round of muffled words was followed by a very strong string of plutonian expletives, some which hadn’t been heard for several decades. The ambassador almost collapsed in shock, but Rep Alno still had hold of her. She gazed lovingly into his eyes, but the plutoCen’s voice carried once again through the wood and any thoughts of flirting quickly faded away.
“Keep up the interference with their voting options. Their Eurovision Song Contest is coming up, so we can influence their choices if we continue bombarding them with the radio signals.” Muffling. “WHAT??? THEY’VE DISCOVERED THEM TOO??? They think they’re from where?” Muffling. “Distant galaxies? GOOD. They won’t trace it to us then. Keep on.” More muffling. “ALIENS??? They think they could be coming from aliens??? How very dare they! We are not aliens.” More muffling. “Ah. Aliens from other galaxies. I see. Keep them thinking about that country they blame everything on. Keep them focussing on the negatives. Keep confusing them with this Brexit they continually go on and on and on about. Actually, send a sphere over one of their capital cities so that they see it. That will really churn up the thoughts.”
Suddenly, the Makemake ambassador sneezed very loudly, and as the gathered crowd glared at her, some gesturing her to be quiet, the wooden door flung open and the plutoCen stood looking at them all, his face as livid as usual. With nowhere for them to run to quickly, and knowing they had all be caught eavesdropping first hand, they each in turn sheepishly grimaced.
A voice bellowed out from the ambassador’s stomach.
“Ambassador Wamlam, please respond urgently. We have had a malfunction, and half of the plutoCen’s conversation has been broadcast all over the Solar System. Our agents around Earth have picked up the signal, but we don’t think the Earthlings have – or if they have they haven’t got them clearly. We can’t get too close as they are sending up their weather generator clouds again. Please respond as this is a matter of utmost urgency which necessitated breaking radio silence.”
“WHAT???!!!” the plutoCen’s scream went off the scale. He punched through the wooden door, sending shards of it across the chambers, and the gathered delegates once again diving for cover. Rep Alno hastily dragged the ambassador away and was ushering her to the exit, as she tried to pick wooden splinters out of her other sleeve. “This way, ambassador. I’ll get us away. I didn’t like this job anyway… my boss thought the stories I sent back were always ridiculous, biased and inaccurate. I mean to say, you heard it all here first and it still sounds unbelievable!”
Continuing the intermittent Pluto Rising story. You never know, there may even be a part four sometime in the future!
The Mansionic Perspective 
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