The Major takes Llewellyn to meet with Harriet Jones, and she flashes her ID at him, like in the old days: "Harriet Jones, Prime Minister." He smiles and says he knows quite well who she is. "I suppose I've ruined your Christmas," he says, and she shakes her head. "Never off duty." She explains that they've put out a cover story already, indicating her assistant Alex, who explains that they've told people it's a hoax, "some sort of mask or prosthetics." Llewellyn nods, and nobody mentions that it's not actually working at all. "Students hijacking the signal, that sort of thing." Harriet explains that Alex is her "right-hand man," which is a thing she's not quite used to having; they agree that it a very good thing, to have and to be a right-hand man. It's sweet. Llewellyn begs Harriet to tell him that it really was a hoax, and she smiles grimly: "That would be nice. Then we could all go home." She offers him coffee and continues: "No, the transmission was genuine. And this seems to be a new species of alien. At least, not one we've encountered before." He cocks his head at her and says she's talking about aliens like they exist. She smirks adorably and almost winks: "There's an act of Parliament banning my autobiography."
The Major, Harriet, and Llewellyn join a tiny blonde thing -- identical almost to Marissa Cooper only not troubling-looking -- named Sally Jenkins, who explains that the transmission they're getting now has nothing to do with Mars. Oh man, did you know I had a little funeral for Marissa Cooper in my backyard? It was very solemn. "Guinevere One was broadcasting from a point five thousand miles above the planet," she explains, by which they deduce that the scary bonehead guys have a ship in orbit, with Guinevere One on board. "But if they're not from the surface, then they might not be from Mars itself. Maybe they're not actual Martians?" asks Llewellyn, and everybody else rolls his or her eyes. The Major, in a subtle way: "Of course not, Martians look completely different." You laugh, Llewellyn gapes. Sally says that the ship is still moving; and Harriet asks the inevitable: "Moving in which direction?" Toward us. "How fast?" Very fast. Brilliant. Harriet stares at the projection of the ship's relative movement and utters the words no character actor ever wants to hear on this show: "What was your name, again?" Sally. Have fun dying horribly, Sally. Sally's like, "What? I'm totally cute! I could rock out on Torchwood!" but to no avail. The Prime Minister has spoken. They stare at the screen.