There was a visible gap between the bottom of the Mercury capsule and the top of the Star Pigeon, Eddie saw as the retrofitted Land Rover Discovery pulled into the space launch centre car park. A latticework of aluminium girders connected the two, still being worked on by construction workers. It looked alarmingly frail, resembling a few strands of spider silk from this distance. The rocket itself was twenty metres tall and two metres wide with the logos of a dozen private companies all over it along with a cartoon of a pigeon wearing a rocket pack, the logo of PigeonCo itself. The service structure standing beside it consisted of little more than a rectangular tower of scaffolding up which cables and fuel pipes ran along with a simple ladder up which the engineers had climbed. Eddie wondered whether he would be expected to climb that ladder wearing a full space suit.

“Well, there it is,” said Flight Director Moses Rodrigues, who had driven personally to the airport to collect him. “Your chariot awaits, Sir!” He smiled across as Eddie, showing huge teeth stained by chewing tobacco. They were both wearing short sleeved shirts in the stifling, humid heat and sunglasses against the glare of the sun where it was reflected from the windows and white walls of the prefabricated launch facility buildings. It was a much smaller place than Eddie had been expecting. Nothing but a tall, rocket shaped hanger with large railway tracks leading to the launch pad itself and half a dozen buildings arranged in a line about five hundred metres from it. Moses had told him that the individual stages of the rocket itself were manufactured in a nearby industrial complex, also owned by Mark Pigeon, and that only the final assembly, the stacking of the four stages on top of each other and the fuelling, was carried out here.

The whole place had a half finished look to Eddie, as if it had been nothing but jungle just a couple of years before. The ground was uneven and covered with small shrubs except in the vicinity of the launch pad itself where the ground was scorched from previous launches. Deep wheel ruts ran across it where heavy vehicles had crossed during or just after the heavy rains that characterised the area. It looked temporary. It would have been impossible to guess that Mark Pigeon had been launching rockets from here for nearly twenty years.

“Will it be ready in time?” asked Eddie. “I'm supposed to be going up in less than two hours!”

“It's pretty much ready already. They're just checking the welds. Welding aluminium is tricky. If you don't get it just right...” He drew a finger across his throat, still grinning.

“Even if every weld is perfect, are you sure that'll stand up to a six gee launch? It looks so... Fragile!”

“If you can take the strain, it can. I have faith in my men. You're the one I'm worried about. You look half dead!”

“Got to get my weight down. I haven't eaten in two days, I drink as little as possible and they haven’t let me have much sleep with all the things I'm supposed to learn. They even gave me homework! ”He showed the other man the attaché case he'd brought with him, full of papers he was supposed to read before the launch.

Moses nodded soberly. He was the man in overall charge of the Mahdia Space Launch Centre, except for those times when Mark Pigeon took a personal interest and turned up to oversee a particularly important launch, as he had now. The man was walking across the tarmac towards them even as they spoke, Eddie saw. A tall, clean shaven man in a business suit and wearing a wide panama hat. The contrast with Moses Rodrigues with his swarthy, sweat sheened face and his hairy arms was dramatic. Mark Pigeon was a businessman who had to look good to woo customers while Moses was a workman who got his hands dirty and didn't care what he looked like so long as he got the job done. They were both perfect for the roles they played in the organisation.

The Land Rover's doors opened and they got out, just in time for Mark Pigeon to reach them. “Edward Nash,” he said, holding out his hand. Eddie shook it. “The man himself! I can't decide whether you're a hero or insane!”

“I'm not quite sure myself,” said Eddie. “It’s only now coming to seem real. Seeing it out there...” He looked at the rocket.

“You understand it’s not rated for manned missions,” said Mark Pigeon. “Strictly speaking, what we're about to do is highly illegal.”

“I understand you've been promised immunity,” replied Eddie. “I must have signed about a dozen release forms, and if we succeed I'm pretty sure they'll forgive us anyway.”

“You clearly don't know lawyers. Oh well, what happens happens. I'm in no matter what. To tell the truth, when they told me what you wanted my rocket for, I would have trampled grannies underfoot in my rush to agree! To send a man into space! When you're in my line of business, this is what you dream of!”

“You should see it from my point of view. I'm a research physicist, I thought I would spend my whole life in laboratories. Now I'm going into space! I keep expecting someone to stop me, to say it’s insane and that I can't do it.”

“It is insane, but you can do it. No-one’s going to show up at the last minute to stop us. Not even the weather. There was a storm supposed to be coming our way, but it seems to have gone down south instead.”

“Suppose it hadn't gone south. Could we have launched anyway?”

“Depends.” He began walking back towards the administration building and the other two men fell in beside him. There were two soldiers on guard there, Eddie saw, standing on either side of the door.

“Lightning is the biggest risk,” Mark Pigeon continued. “It can knock out the rocket’s electronics. And strong winds can blow the rocket off course. We have to balance that against the fact that you have to launch in two hours or the whole thing's off. We can't wait ninety minutes for the space station to come around again. To get your obese carcass up there, it has to be a minimum fuel launch, and that means the space station has to be exactly above the equator to meet us, but Harmony's in an inclined orbit. Next time around it’ll be twenty degrees above the equator. They used up a ton of fuel changing their orbit for us. Many tons, in fact. They can't do it again, not if they want enough left to get you to the moon.

"I still don't see why I have to go up today. They say it'll be a week before the shuttle's ready to leave orbit. In the meantime I'll just be kicking my heels up there. Getting in the way. I could wait down here for a few more days. Reduce my weight by losing fat instead of water."

"The rocket's ready to go up now," Mark Pigeon replied. "If there's a delay of more than a day or so the rocket has to be de-fuelled, for safety. Then, when it's fuelled again we have to go through all the pre-flight checks all over again, and if one fails you don't go up. The rocket's ready now so you go up now. We launch in two hours or we don't launch at all. If the weather's bad, you go up anyway and you just take your chances.”

“That's a bit unusual, isn't it? Normally, the slightest hint of risk and everything's called off.”

“Everyone knows what's at stake and, thanks to the Chinese, everyone knows this device of yours really exists. If you were to change your mind now, I think the Americans would carry you up to the Mercury capsule and tie you to the couch with zip ties.”

Eddie looked around and saw half a dozen sleek black limousines on the other side of the car park, along with an armoured car. “Yes, I see they've arrived,” he said. “They've brought everything?”

“The original alien mass dampener, a spacesuit, everything. Also a squad of marines to guard the mass dampener. They're not raking any chances of it slipping out of their hands.”

“Yes, I already got the impression they were very possessive of it, despite the fact it was us who gave it to them in the first place.”

“An alien spacecraft!” said Mark Pigeon in awe. “A real life, honest to goodness alien spacecraft!”

“And the mass dampener may only be the first new technology we gain from it.”

He fell silent as the door to the administration building opened and a man in military uniform emerged to meet them. “Edward Nash,” said Mark Pigeon, “meet Master Sergeant Samuel Hill, head of the American security detail.”

“Here to see that our property goes up there,” said Samuel Hill, pointing upwards, “and nowhere else. Good to meet you, Mister Nash.”

“Likewise,” said Eddie, shaking the offered hand. He turned back to Mark Pigeon. “And has the equipment from Wetherby arrived yet?”

“Your prototype, home made mass dampener, yes, and everything you need to convert it into a mass amplifier when you're up there.”

“Then everything’s here,” said Eddie. “All that’s left to do is to load it all aboard the Mercury capsule and for me to get into the spacesuit.”

“Moses will show you to the outfitting room,” said Mark Pigeon. “Or the equipment storage shed as we normally call it.”

Moses gestured to one of the other buildings and Eddie followed him towards it. Mark Pigeon then went back into the administration building with Samuel Hill. One of the two marines standing guard closed the door behind them and then the two soldiers resumed their task of tirelessly scanning the area for any potential threats.

☆☆☆

Eddie almost laughed out loud when he saw the cherry picker waiting to carry him to the rocket. It was so obvious and mundane, so simple. It had probably been hired just for the day from some local firm, and yet it was going to help an astronaut get into space! The man sitting in the driving seat looked bored, as if he took part in manned space launches every day. Eddie wondered whether he was also from the hire firm or whether he was one of Mark Pigeon’s engineers. How much training did it need to operate a cherry picker? Was it something any moderately intelligent man could master after having been shown how a couple of times or did you need to be licensed or something? If so, then the driver would have to be some guy who normally spent his time repairing street lights or doing tree surgery. Eddie wondered what his reaction had been when he'd been told what today’s job was.

The space suit was hot and heavy as the panel van drove him across the field. The cooling jumpsuit against his skin was already working, but it was no match for even a winter day in Guyana. He could feel himself sweating inside it, and he was already dehydrated! He felt himself becoming worryingly light headed, but at least the worry that he might faint made him forget the discomfort caused by the sanitary unit's catheter.

There were cameramen filming him, he saw through the van’s small windows. Recording the event for posterity just in case the mission was a triumphant success. If it wasn't a success, and if the failure was in some way due to the rocket, if Eddie died during the launch failure, Eddie suspected the footage would be quietly lost. Mark Pigeon would want to continue launching satellites and a death aboard one of his rockets, no matter what the circumstances, might well prove fatal to his company. PigeonCo was the last of the private space companies. The lawyers had gotten the rest of them. Mark Pigeon's survival depended on his keeping a low profile. A glorious triumph and the salvation of the world would probably make him bulletproof, but any other result would only leave him exposed and vulnerable and he intended to avoid that, no matter what it took.

Arriving at the launch site, the van stopped and one of the engineers who'd accompanied him opened the double doors in the back. The second engineer, who'd driven the van, then joined the first and together they helped Eddie climb down. The three of them then walked together to the cherry picker. Even with the platform at ground level, it still needed a step up to get into it and the engineers took an elbow each to help him in. One of them then went back to get his helmet. He handed it to him and then got into the platform with him.

The driver of the cherry picker, who turned out to be the operator as well, then got in with him and closed the gate. “Ready, mate?” he asked. Eddie nodded. “Right, up we go then.” He pulled a lever and the platform began to rise. Eddie clutched hold of the railing in sudden fear as the ground dropped away from them. He was about to be launched into space in a rocket, and he was just discovering now that he was scared of heights!

“You okay, Eddie?” said a voice in his ear. Mark Pigeon in the control room.

“Fine,” Eddie replied into the tiny microphone beside his mouth. “Everything good your end?”

“We're green across the board,” Mark replied. Eddie wondered if he'd have told him if there was a problem. “We've had twenty consecutive perfect launches. Star Pigeon is a tried and tested launch platform. You've got nothing to worry about.”

“Who said I was worried?” replied Eddie, but his hands were clamped tightly to the cherry picker railing and it was probably obvious to everyone who could see him. He made himself loosen his grip a little. Down below, he saw the marines carrying a small box to one of the limousines. Three marines got in with it, and another two walked beside the vehicle as it drove slowly towards the rocket.

Clouds had gathered overhead since his arrival and a light rain began to fall. Eddie could feel it against his face. There was a light wind as well. “What's the forecast look like?” he asked.

“Good,” Mark replied. “We've launched in weather like this before.”

“You've launched in the rain?”

“This isn't rain! This is just a little Scots mist. You haven’t seen real rain until you've seen rain in Guyana.”

Glad you think so, thought Eddie as the rain got harder. The wind got stronger too as the cherry picker lifted him higher than the jungle surrounding the launch site. He could feel it tugging at his hair and see it pulling at the engineer's clothes. He felt the raindrops stinging his cheeks with greater force. He wondered how strong the wind was higher up, in the clouds. He contemplated the fact that the Mercury capsule had no abort option. None at all. If anything went wrong, Eddie would die. The only way he would survive was if the launch went perfectly.

The platform drew level with the Mercury capsule, and the operator pulled another lever to take them sideways, towards it. The engineer then leaned across and opened the capsule’s hatch. The space inside was ridiculously small. It didn't seem possible to Eddie that he'd be able to fit inside wearing his bulky space suit, even though it was considerably smaller and more graceful than the ones worn by the original Mercury astronauts. He sighed and placed the helmet on his head. Silence immediately enveloped him, except for the faint noises of his life support system coming on automatically.

The cherry picker operator opened the gate in the raised platform, then stood aside to make way for Eddie. Eddie had watched the video of the Mercury astronauts climbing into the capsule so he knew what to do, but it still took both the engineer and the cherry picker operator to help him in. Finally, though, he was lying on his back in the couch, staring up at the bare metal of the capsule’s interior where instruments and equipment had been removed to save weight. It was dark. The only light was the sun shining in through the hatch and the two tiny potholes. A thoughtful engineer had painted the hatch release with luminous paint, though, so he'd be able to find it when the time came to leave. It glowed a bright lime green on the edge of his vision.

The cherry picker operator closed the gate in the raised platform and then pulled the levers to move the platform away from the rocket and then back down to the ground. Eddie watched it go through the still open hatch. “You still there, Mark?” he asked.

“Still here,” Mark Pigeon replied over the radio link. “You okay, Eddie?”

“I'm fine,” Eddie replied. “Where are we on the countdown?”

“T minus seven minutes fifteen seconds.”

Eddie frowned. That was cutting it rather close, he thought. To make the rendezvous with the space station, they had to launch at precisely the right moment, down to the second. They weren't leaving much time for any last minute problems that might crop up. “Everything’s still looking good?” he asked.

“Everything's still green,” Mark Pigeon reassured him. “Relax, Eddie, everything's fine,”

“Good,” replied Eddie. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic. The spacesuit was confining in itself, let alone the capsule that pressed close around him on all sides. He tried to control his breathing and remain calm. The couch was actually rather comfortable, if he closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was home, trying out a new piece of furniture. He wondered if he could actually get a capsule couch for his home. Mount a television on the ceiling above it...

He saw movement in the corner of his eye and saw, through the open hatch, that the cherry picker platform had returned. This time, the operator had been joined by Master Sergeant Samuel Hill, who was holding a small lockbox in his hand. A larger box stood on the railed flooring beside him. The marine leaned forward, reaching into the capsule to hand the box to Eddie. He was saying something that Eddie couldn’t hear, but by reading his lips he thought it was something like “Take good care of this. The US government expects to get it back.” Eddie gave him a thumbs up and placed the lockbox beside him, securing it to the bulkhead by means of the latches that had been provided for it.

The marine then handed in the larger box, the one containing their home made mass dampener. Eddie had to lift himself half out of the couch to take it, and he placed it on his other side, securing it to the floor. The marine then stood back and said something else. Probably good luck. Eddie gave him another thumbs up and the marine swung the capsule's hatch closed. Almost total darkness fell. Eddie guessed that the capsule had once had an internal light of some kind. If so, it had also beenremoved to save weight.

Like the hatch release, the box containing the home made mass dampener had been marked with luminous paint. Eddie opened the small door in its side and flipped the switch he found inside. “I've just turned on the mass dampener,” he said.

“Copy that,” replied Mark Pigeon. “We just registered a substantial reduction in the capsule’s weight.” There was a pause before the entrepreneur spoke again. “We show the capsule's mass to now be six hundred and seven point five kilograms.”

“Is that low enough?” asked Eddie nervously. If it wasn't, it would all have been for nothing. There would be no point in proceeding with the launch if it was mathematically impossible for him to reach orbit.

“Just barely. You're one hundred grams under the critical weight. Luckily, there's a low pressure system above us right now. If there wasn't, the extra air resistance would make the launch impossible.”

Eddie had to suppress a giggle. Thank God for bad weather, he thought. He looked at one of the small potholes and saw raindrops appearing on the other side of the glass. They began to merge together and run down the glass in little rivulets. He wondered how much the water weighed. If the entire rocket, say four hundred square metres, was covered with a thin sheen of rainwater... The brief flurry of rain seemed to be over, though. Hopefully, the rocket would have time to dry off before the launch. It was hot outside, after all, but it was also humid...

“Got some people on the line here want to talk to you,” said Mark Pigeon. “Ben Wrexham from England. I'm patching them through.”

There was a brief burst of static and then Ben's voice was coming from the speaker in his ear. “Eddie? How you doing?”

“Ben! I'm doing great! I'm in the capsule waiting to lift off. How’s everyone over there?”

“We’re fine, Eddie. Say hello to Eddie, everyone.” There was a chorus of cheers in the background. “Good luck, Eddie!” he heard Alice saying. “Good luck!” called out James.

“Thanks, everyone. I think I'm going to need it.”

“Eddie,” said Ben, “Say hello to the newest member of our little club. Samantha Kumiko. Our resident moon expert.”

“Hello Eddie,” he heard a woman's voice saying. “I think it's really great what you’re going. Totally insane, but great!”

“Those are probably the words they'll put on my headstone,” Eddie replied with a smile. “Welcome to the team, Samantha. Hope I get to meet you properly one day.”

“Me too. And it's Sam. Only my mother calls me Samantha.”

“Right, Sam.”

“Good luck, Eddie!” called out a much younger voice. A little girl by the sound of it.

“Thanks, Karen. Sounds like the monkey glands are working.”

There was a gaggle of laughter from the other end. “That was my daughter, Lily,” said Samantha. “Come say hello properly, Lily.”

“Hello, Eddie!” said the young voice, rather louder and clearer. “Good luck on the moon!”

“Thanks, Lily! Take good care of your mother!”

“I will!”

“Sorry to break up the party,” said Mark Pigeon, “but it's almost time. We're still looking good, so we’re go for launch. This is your last chance to back out, Eddie.”

“What happened to zip tying me to the couch?”

“I was kidding, Eddie. You can back out and we'll send the two mass dampeners up without you. Ben says they might be able to talk the astronauts through the procedure.”

Eddie glanced sideways at the box sitting beside him. “The world deserves the best chance we can give it,” he said. “I'm going up.”

“Very well. We're clearing the area and closing all blast doors and windows. The camera crews are still filming. If you actually pull this thing off, you’re going to be a global hero.”

”And if we don’t, no-one will ever know we tried.”

“Yeah, they will. I was an ass to insist on secrecy. Even if you blow up on the launch pad, I’ll make sure the world knows you were willing to risk your life for them. You'll be famous either way, Eddie. I promise.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

“Well, this is it, then. Just twenty seconds left on the countdown. Are you ready?”

Eddie sucked in a deep breath, then let it whoosh out of his mouth. “As I’ll ever be,” he said.

“Okay then.” There was a brief pause before he spoke again. A deafening roar suddenly filled the capsule, and Eddie felt himself being shaken violently enough to loosen the teeth in their sockets. “Engine ignition has occurred,” said Mark Pigeon. “Engines are at one hundred and four percent. Releasing restraining clamps in Five. Four, three, two, one...”

There was a loud clunk coming from somewhere below him, and suddenly there was a fierce weight pressing him down into his seat as the Star Pigeon began to rise.