Almost Martian

0230. In the middle of a quiet night at Shetland Coastguard.

Phone rings in Ops Room. I hit button to answer. Man speaks.

I think there’s a large fire.

He has my full attention. I sit up straight and start typing. (Continuous log of everything everybody says to everybody else. It’s supposed to match the taped recordings going on in the corner.)

Where?

I don’t know.

Where are you?

I don’t know.  I mean I was in the guardhouse and then I took the dog for a bit of a walk and there’s this huge fire – well it must be – there’s a really bright glow just over the hill. But there’s another hill after that. So I don’t know what’s on fire. Could be some houses, or a factory or something. I was told to call your number on the wall here if we needed help. And I don’t want to wake up the Sergeant and everybody in case it’s not a fire, but it really does look like a big one. It’s flickering, not like town lights.

OK. Don't worry. So where are you? (Keep pushing – without a location you have nothing, not a hope in hell.)

Oh, sorry. I’m in the RAF.

On Unst?

Beg your pardon?

Are you on Unst?

I’m on duty.  In the guardhouse.

And where is the guardhouse?

Oh. At the RAF station. Haven’t got the name yet. I just arrived a few hours ago.

Right then. He’s probably at RAF Saxavord which is on Unst and miles from big habitation except Baltasound, the little town there. And that’s down the hill from him. But their lights won’t be visible from him anyway. And he might not be at Saxavord. There might be other places where the RAF do stuff which I’m not aware of. But I can hardly believe he doesn’t know the name of where he is.

So what direction is the fire in?

I don’t know.

And you don’t know the area at all?

No, sorry. Not a clue.

Do you have any idea what direction you came in from ? You know – North, South, that kind of thing?

No. Sorry.

You couldn’t make it up. You really couldn’t.

OK. Let me get this straight.  I have a First Informant who doesn't know where he is or how he got there. It is at this point that I twig what I’m dealing with. The original Man from Mars. My very own real-life Alien. I might be famous! I am being tested! This little green man has been dropped in at the dead of night but the Martians forgot to tell him to look out for little bits of wood sticking out of the ground with words on them. We use them a lot.

Did you see the terrain you came through – back roads, moorland, big aerials, hills, big roads etc? Villages, maybe? Did you notice which side the sea was on? (All sides probably, but I don’t say so. He’ll only confuse both of us.)

No. I was in the back of a jeep for a bit. And it was nearly dark. And before that I was on a plane.

Well there is no other way if you didn’t come by car ferry. Wuzzock. (If you’d been on the ferry you would have arrived about 7.30 this morning and had time to get your bearings.) But I don’t say so. Actually I’m intrigued, and he sounds like a Nice Person. Not at all wuzzocky. And I'm being mean. He obviously doesn’t know about the ferry. He was only trying to explain. It’s not completely his fault they said Stand there and do Guard Duty. Don’t ask questions. Need–to–know and all that. But for heaven's sake...... How could he NOT know? And I just don't get why there isn't a big fat sign saying RAF Saxavord on it (actually there is, but maybe it's down the road from his guardhouse), or a header on a bit of paper on the guardhouse desk. Something. But I'm not going to put words in his mouth, not yet. And I remember the Golden Rule. Do Not Assume ANYTHING.

Did you have a map to look at while you were getting here? Or do you have a map in the guardhouse?

Yes.

Hurray !! We’re getting there. I’m enjoying this.

Which map is it?  Going to be a road map, so I can discuss some twists and turns over the phone and find out where this fire is, exactly. I have a road map in my car. There might even be one on the shelf here. Somewhere.

It’s the local aero map.

Oh. OK. We have one or two of them.

I dig around in the chart drawers and come up with said map. I open it out fully on the chart table and my heart sinks. I have the tip of Scotland, Orkney, Norway, a bit of Sweden and Denmark, the Faeroes, and Iceland. Shetland is an inch long. I give him the bad news.

And if you think I’m being maddeningly blasé about this inferno just down the road from him, it’s because I have been slowly developing A Hunch. 
And there are a few other things. The first is that I’m fairly certain this is not a very bored coastguard somewhere else, winding me up, nor is it some mad bastard insomniac down at Headquarters with a sick sense of humour trying to find out whether we are a) awake, b) up to the job of directing a Martian with very little assistance, or c) any good at having our patience tried when the rest of the world would have lost it. The second is that, by now, if there was a fire of any substance, the phones in here would be red hot, ha ha. 999 lines and police lines and what all. (Yes we are not the fire brigade but we have oodles of manpower and resources on tap at a moment’s notice for anybody wot needs it.) Plus people know we're here, and if they can't get through to one service they'll try another. Plus there are twice as many incoming public lines as there are bums on seats.  (Including my mate on his mealbreak in the rest room, within shouting distance.) And all lines are silent. Not a peep.

I try again. I am indomitable. I am in the Hot Seat. Although I’m 99% sure this is not a fire, the 1% error margin is what disasters are made of, presumably. Not on My Watch, no way. 'D' Watch has a reputation to keep. And I had made up my own little motto for dilemmas like this: “Think of the Public Enquiry and work backwards”.  That usually answers my question.

Is it cloudy where you are?

Yes.   No help from the constellations then, for the north/south thing. Or big fat Orion, which is always useful.

Is there ANYTHING you can see which might help me? Other large buildings? Any other lights of any significance whatsoever….. even ships, maybe?

No. Nothing apart from that glow over the hill. (Pause.) Well there is one little light. It’s blinking.

What direction is this blinking light from you?

Don’t know. Sort of in front of me.

Well I walked right into that one.

Can you give me the direction of the blinking light compared to the glow?

No because I can’t see the glow from here. It was only when I went up the hill a bit.

OK. Have you got a watch?

Yes.

Can you count the seconds of the blinks and the not–blinkings?

Hang on a mo.      

A short time passes. He comes back to the phone.

It seems to blink once about every ten seconds.

Great, (hurriedly grabbing my handy List of Lights to see if I’m right) while asking

If you imagine you're in the middle of a compass, and the hill and the glow were somewhere between south and southwest, where is the blinking light now in relation to you?

Um. Yeah. Southeast.

Good.  My new fame as Alien–discoverer is beginning to fade. Never mind. Think this is probably the better option. Not really into Martians. Thanks to one little blinking light, I know exactly where he is. Definite.

OK. I think I know what this is. I’m going to make another call and get back to you – 

and if I'm wrong, I am going to be the biggest wuzzock in Coastguard history.

I note the number of his guardhouse, then call the duty night watch at Sullom Voe Oil Terminal. Roughly to the southwest of the RAF base. More than 30 miles away. So far that I’d really begun to doubt My Hunch.

Are your gas flares particularly bright tonight?

Yes they are. I was just saying to my colleague when we came on watch……  never seen them as big as this.

Bingo. Result!! Thank fuck for that.

So I can put the poor bloke’s mind at rest. And mine. And any other little green men who get dropped on Shetland without warning in the middle of the night.

I say goodnight to our friend in his booth, thank him for his concern etc, finish typing up the conversation so far, close it and label it FIRE – FAWGI, which is a kind, sympathetic title for these events.  False alarm with good intent. Nice man, really?
Now I've had time to think about it ......   Sorry. Definitely wuzzock.