One-way ticket to Syldius

Chapter 1 November 25th 2047 It was nearly eight o’clock. Laure Derose, already dressed in her suit, was finishing her bowl of cereal, while her husband Thierry, still in his pyjamas, was savouring his coffee. Looking at Laure’s uniform, he noticed the three little gold bay leaves on her collar. ‘So, just like that, they’ve made you a captain!’ he teased her, all smiles. ‘Are you saying that to rub in the fact that you’re a major?’ she replied, rather sharply. ‘I see machismo is still alive and well in the army, even though we’re at the same level of responsibility in the work we’ve been given!’ Masking his smile with an embarrassed pout, Thierry was about to reply when a bell rang: it was the comcam built into the left wrist of Laure’s suit. She had not expected it to be working already and it startled her. She pressed the green button below the soft screen, and the logo of the Martian mission appeared, followed by the face of a young officer of the Federation. Thierry burst out laughing. ‘Hello?’ Laura said, nervously. ‘Hello, Captain Derose. I’m Lieutenant Quincy. I’m responsible for assembling personnel in the north-west area. I just wanted to make sure you were ready to leave, and to give you some additional information, but I see you’re already in uniform. Well done!’ ‘It’s nice of you to think of us... er... lieutenant!’ Laure said. ‘But the bus is still due at about nine, isn’t it?’ ‘Well...

actually no,’ Quincy replied. ‘That’s the other reason I’m calling you. The operation is going better than expected and the bus will be at your house a little earlier, about eight thirty... As soon as it gets there, the driver will sound his horn twice. When you hear that, leave the house. A soldier will approach you. Give him your keys – he’s in charge of securing the area around your home after you’ve left – then get straight on the bus. If any journalists ask you questions, don’t answer. We’ve been told they’ve been following some of our vehicles. Those are the final instructions. Do you have any questions?’ ‘No,’ Laure said, ‘it all seems perfectly clear to me...’ ‘Good, I’ll leave you then,’ Quincy said. ‘I wish you a pleasant journey! Goodbye!’ ‘Goodbye, lieutenant!’ Laure said, and pressed the red button. The time now appeared on the screen of her comcam: it was 8.11. ‘Did you hear?’ she said to Thierry. ‘Hurry up and get ready while I wake Quentin!’ ‘OK,’ Thierry said, only too happy to put an end to the conversation they had begun before the call. A few minutes later, he heard Laure saying to their son, ‘Calm down! Just hurry up and have your shower, you only have a quarter of an hour to get ready!’ Quentin was jumping up and down on his bed, happily crying, ‘We’re astronauts! We’re astronauts! And I’m going to become the spacehand champion!’

Then, finally obeying his mother, he ran to the bathroom, hugging his uniform to him like a fabulous gift he had just received. Three small white duffel bags, with the mission logo on them, had pride of place on an armchair in the living room. They were the only luggage the Deroses were taking for their expedition: toilet articles, a change of underwear to be used while they were in Kourou and a few personal possessions they were fond of. Only Quentin’s bag was full to bursting. The night before, he had had to choose – with great difficulty – the toys he would take with him. The most important thing, carefully wrapped in the middle of the bag, was the precious data bank of his androdog, Theo. Quentin had had to resign himself to entrusting his faithful companion to some friends of the Guilberts. On this point, the rules were categorical: no animals were allowed on the journey, and that included andropods. Once on Mars, Quentin hoped to find a new receiver in which he could insert the flimsy component. But according to his father, it was highly unlikely that kind of accessory would be part of the facilities of the colony. ‘What time is it, dad?’ Quentin asked, stamping his feet with impatience. By way of reply, he heard the bus hooting its horn twice. ‘Time to go!’ Thierry said, grabbing his bag. Opening the door, they saw a large, completely white bus

surrounded by a swarm of journalists. They were trying to get closer, despite the cordon of twenty soldiers who were doing their best to keep them at a distance. One of the soldiers broke away from the cordon, stood to attention, and saluted Thierry. ‘Good morning, major! May I have your keys, please?’ ‘Here they are,’ Thierry said. ‘Thank you, major. You can go now.’ As soon as they got close to the bus, the journalists started bombarding them with questions, stretching their arms between the soldiers, holding out microphones, popping their flashguns. Quentin would have liked to answer a few questions, but Thierry was holding him firmly by the hand and pushing him towards the door. The Deroses walked to the rear of the bus and sat down. As they passed, they looked at the other passengers, who were all wearing uniforms identical to theirs. They did not recognize anyone. Outside, they saw some of their neighbours coming out onto their doorsteps, and passers-by stopping to watch. Some lifted their hands to their mouths in fright or surprise, others applauded, still others waved goodbye in a friendly fashion. They waved back. Then the door of the bus closed, the driver hooted his horn to disperse the last interlopers and set off at top speed, flanked by two army vehicles. As it approached the airport, the bus turned off the usual road onto the lane reserved for freight, went through two military checkpoints, and drove straight onto the tarmac.

After a few yards, the bus stopped outside a large hall surrounded by glass, where several hundred other pioneers had arrived before them. As they went in, Laure was relieved to recognize a voice calling her. Her mother, Elvire, was waving to her above the heads of the crowd. ‘Laure! Laure! Here I am! On your left!’ Extricating herself from the swarm of strangers who were barring her way, Laure managed to get through to her, pulling Quentin with her. She rushed into her arms. ‘Oh Mum, I was worried, I didn’t know if I’d be able to find you... Are you all right?’ she asked, kissing her. ‘Yes, yes, dear, everything’s fine, stop worrying! I haven’t felt so good in a long while! How about you? ‘Mega fantastic!’ Quentin cried, also kissing her. ‘But what’s happened to your father?’ Laure asked, looking around. ‘Look, Mum! He’s over there!’ he said pointing over to the side. ‘Brilliant! He found the Guilberts!’ Leaving his bag at Laure’s feet, he ran to Martin, who was signalling to him. ‘Come on,’ Laure said to her mother, ‘let me introduce our friends. You remember, I talked to you about them. They’re the parents of Quentin’s friend Martin. They have a little farm on the outskirts of Brussels.’ ‘Yes, I remember perfectly well,’ Elvire said emphatically, in case her daughter thought her memory was failing. ‘They seem nice.’ Thirty minutes later, a huge white bird, chartered for the occasion, appeared on the runway.

As if to give them one last taste of the comforts of life on Earth, the interior was beautifully fitted out. Each passenger had a wide seat which could be converted into a comfortable berth so that they could rest during the eight-hour journey. After the hostesses had distributed blankets, the Deroses started chatting to the Guilberts and Quentin began playing chess with Martin. Elvire decided to sleep a little. She knew that, thanks to the time difference, they would arrive in Kourou at five in the afternoon, even though they were leaving Brussels at three in the afternoon of the same day. When they arrived, she would still have a long night’s sleep ahead of her. But she was dreading the final physical resistance tests scheduled for the next day and preferred to save her strength.

Chapter 2 Kourou Quentin and Martin were a little disappointed by the approach to Kourou. Their noses pressed to the windows, they were hoping to see the launching pad from which the rockets would leave. But a tropical rain was falling on the base as they approached. Although the space centre was next to the airport, all they could see was a few lights, giving them a vague idea of the shape of the buildings. After landing, the plane took up position some distance from the usual arrival hall. Immediately, the passengers were asked to board buses to take them to the space centre where they would sleep for two nights before leaving on their final journey. When they arrived, the pioneers were led into a vast building occupying the surface area of at least two football pitches. Normally used for assembling rockets, the interior had been converted into a huge dormitory for more than a thousand people. Along the metal-clad inner walls containers had been placed, fitted with wash basins, showers and toilets. Commenting humorously on the very military charms of the place, Thierry said to Martin’s father, Jean-Luc, ‘After all the comforts they gave the heroes who are going to save the Earth, for the sake of the journalists, here we have the cosy nest concocted by the military. They wanted to make sure we wouldn’t hesitate to leave the place as soon as we could!’ ‘Enlist here, your country needs you!’ Jean-Luc replied,

laughing and pointing to the camp beds. ‘Oh, what great heroes!’ Anne-Marie butted in. ‘And how else did you imagine they were going to put up so many people for only two nights? You should be thankful they’re not making us sleep on the ground in tents!’ ‘You’re right,’ Thierry conceded. ‘I was only joking. After the long flight and this Spartan welcome, we’re all a bit keyed up. As we already had dinner on the plane, I suggest we go straight to bed to be in good form tomorrow.’ ‘Yes, I’m sorry, you’re quite right,’ Anne-Marie said. ‘Jean-Luc should have warned you: when I’m not in my element, my character gets a little hard to take!’ ‘There you are!’ Jean-Luc joked. ‘It’s all my fault! Anyway, I think it’s true, we all need to get some sleep. So good night, everyone!’ ‘Thanks, good night! Laure and Thierry replied, getting into bed. Dawn was just breaking when Thierry slipped silently out of the building to watch the sun rise. He felt a light, pleasant breeze on his face, which gently blew away the last vestiges of sleep. Trying to imagine what he would see through the protective bubble that covered New Frontier, the first Martian city, he shivered at the thought of committing his family to such an adventure. As the sky grew lighter, he saw a line of ten launchers. If all went well, one of those rockets would be taking them to the international space station.

For a few days now, he had been unable to shake off a sense of foreboding: something bad was going to happen, which would separate him from the rest of his family. His scientific training made him reluctant to unquestioningly accept ideas about premonitions or nonsense of that sort, so he simply accepted the phenomenon as a normal reaction of his brain to the unknown dangers they were facing. Suddenly, he was aware of someone near him. Turning, he recognized one of the guards on duty outside the building. ‘Good morning, major,’ the guard said, coming level with him. ‘Did you sleep well? ‘Not really,’ Thierry admitted. ‘I took the liberty of coming out to enjoy the sunrise for the last time.’ He pointed eastwards. ‘That’s quite natural, major. Anyway, there’s nothing to stop you leaving the hangar as long as you don’t go too far. From what I’ve heard, what with the space survival classes and the session in the cocktail shaker you’re going to have a very full day. Besides, it’s almost six-thirty, they’ll be waking the others soon.’ ‘The cocktail shaker?’ Thierry repeated. The guard laughed. ‘Oh, didn’t they tell you? That’s the name they give the centrifuge that make you turn in all directions and accelerates up to four or five Gs. Those who get out alive will be fit for service!’ Then, to reassure Thierry, he continued in a more serious tone, ‘It’s the last medical test before they finally

authorize you to take part in the mission, major. It’s not really risky, but they want to make sure you won’t have any problems with the acceleration on lift-off or with weightlessness during the journey to the station. Anyone without a cardiac problem is usually fine.’ Privately regretting that he had struck up this conversation when he was in no fit state to appreciate the humorous side of it, Thierry decided to cut it short. Smiling politely, he edged away. ‘It’s obvious you aren’t one of those who are leaving! Anyway, I think I’m going to go back inside and find my family. Er… thanks for the information, sergeant!’ Going back inside the hangar, Thierry saw that most of the other colonists were already up. He was hurrying back to his bed when Quentin ran to meet him. ‘Ah, there you are at last, dad!’ Quentin cried. ‘Mum sent me to find you, she was wondering where you’d got to. Let’s go and join them, they went to have breakfast in the other building behind this one.’ ‘What about our things?’ Thierry asked anxiously. ‘It’s all right, she took them with her. Anyway, good morning, dad!’ Quentin came closer and kissed him. ‘Good morning, Quen!’ Thierry replied, leaning over to him. An hour later, all the colonists had gathered in a lecture hall to hear about the schedule for the day. General Demazières, head of the mission for Europe and Africa, walked to the middle

of the stage and began speaking. ‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! Some of you must have thought, despite our tropical location, that last night’s welcome was a tiny bit chilly! I beg you to forgive us. Our main concern was your safety. So allow me to finally bid you welcome to Kourou as I would have done before if I hadn’t been delayed in Montreal by a last-minute meeting. To make up for it, I’ve decided to invite you all to a huge barbecue tonight, where we’ll celebrate our last night on earth in a fitting manner. One thing, though,’ he said with a smile, ‘I’d advise you not to be too tempted by the delights of a certain local drink. So far, we haven’t yet had the opportunity to test what effects it has on people in a state of weightlessness!’ This remark was greeted with laughter and applause. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ the general continued, ‘today’s schedule is in three stages. First of all, although you’ve all had medical certificates, we have to make sure of your physical condition. We can’t take any chances of there being any kind of incident between lift-off and the time we arrive at the space station. So you will all have to undergo a session on the centrifuge, followed by a medical test of your balance and stamina. Don’t worry, if you like rollercoasters, you won’t be disappointed. At the same time, you shouldn’t expect any unusual sensations either.

All we’re trying to do is check that you won’t have any problems with acceleration on lift-off. According to our estimates, the vast majority of you will pass the test with flying colours. In fact, if your doctors haven’t been too indulgent in writing your certificates, it’s very likely you’ll all pass! ‘Next, you will be given training to familiarize you with the suits you are wearing. You may not have realized it, but they are a real technological marvel. For example, you may have wondered why it is that you are barely aware of the hot, damp climate here. Well, sorry to disappoint those among you who think you are endowed with a remarkably adaptive metabolism, but it’s because of your suits. They have a built-in air conditioning system to protect you from extremes of temperature, which works completely autonomously, just through the energy given off by your bodies, on the same principle as a heat pump. ‘The last thing on the schedule is a session in the simulator, so that you can get an idea of the interior of the 100- seat shuttles which will take you to the space station. We will teach you the procedure to follow when you transfer from the shuttles through the connecting airlocks to the cylinders on which you will be travelling. Right, those are the three stages of the schedule! In order to organize things properly, as there are only fifty seats in the specially constructed centrifuge, you will be

divided equally into twenty groups of fifty people each and won’t all go through the three stages in the same order. ‘The departure is scheduled for tomorrow. According to the latest weather reports, we will have a favourable window between 6:30 a.m. and 4 p.m., which gives us quite enough time to launch ten shuttles into orbit, with about thirty minutes between the launches, to give time for the launch computers to be reset to zero. At the end of today, you will each be given an embarkation badge indicating the number of your shuttle, from 1 to 10, and the number of your seat, from 1 to 100, for the lift-off. I’ll be in the first shuttle, so I hope that this time I’ll be able to welcome you appropriately on board our cylinder. In the next few days, another thousand Europeans and Africans selected for this mission will join us there. ‘Right. I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything, and we do have a very heavy schedule, so unless there are any questions, I’d like you to join the officers outside the building in your various groups.’ As the audience were applauding the speech, Elvire, who until now had been very unobtrusive and strangely silent, stood up and raised her arm. General Demazières, who was about to leave the stage, saw her and walked back to the microphone. ‘Ah, I see we have a question!’ He pointed towards Elvire. ‘Can someone give that charming lady a microphone?’

Immediately, a young soldier who was standing in the central aisle went to her and handed her a microphone, which she placed in front of her mouth. ‘Hello, 1,2...’ she said. Hearing her voice echoing in the loudspeaker, she added, ‘Oh, yes it works very well!’ A few laughs echoed in the hall. ‘My dear lady,’ the general said, ‘our equipment is in perfect working order as you can see... But please, ask your question.’ ‘Well,’ Elvire said, ‘first of all I must confess I’m not familiar with the military ranks. So is it all right if I call you Sir?’ ‘That’s perfectly all right, madam!’ the general replied, smiling. ‘We’ll have plenty of time to explain these details during our long journey to Mars!’ ‘Good. Actually, I have two questions. First, I want to tell you that although I’ve passed my seventy-second birthday, I feel in great form and my doctor hasn’t been at all indulgent towards me. So I hope your... cocktail shaker won’t prove him wrong, because I’m a little worried... Apart from that, I also wanted to know when exactly the journey to Mars will begin.’ ‘Madam,’ the general said, still smiling, ‘I’m very happy to note that there are those among you who seem to have escaped the ravages of time and who are as quick off the mark as you have been with your two questions. So first of all, let me hasten to reassure you about the first of them.

I can confirm that as far as you personally are concerned – the sheet I’ve just been given summarizes your medical records – you seem in better shape than a good many fifty-year-olds who are here now... You can draw your own conclusion from that, if it helps you. As for your second question, I’m very glad you asked it. As you know, there will be a total of five cylinders going to Mars, each containing 2,000 pioneers. 10,000 people in all: 5,000 Americans, 2,000 Russians and Asians and 3,000 Europeans and Africans, including us. You are also among the first 1,000 Europeans to leave the planet. In the coming week, there will be another two launch programmes from Kourou for the other 3,000. At the same time, the Americans will leave from Houston and the Russians and Asians from Baikonur. By the end of that period, all the transfers will have been done. Then we will still have five or six days in orbit, attached to the international space station, to familiarize ourselves with the various facilities. So the actual departure for Mars should, if all goes well, take place in about ten days’ time, probably on the ninth or tenth of December... Have I answered your questions?’ ‘Oh yes, very well! I’m infinitely grateful, sir... Sorry, I meant general!’ Elvire said, also smiling, somewhat reassured about her state of health. ‘I’m delighted to hear it,’ the general said. ‘So let me just

wish you all good luck for today and I hope I see you again at out little party tonight. Thank you for listening.’

Chapter 3 The Centrifuge Outside the building, the twenty groups quickly formed. Fortunately, both the Deroses and the Guilberts found themselves in group number 1, much to Quentin’s satisfaction. That way he could stay with Martin and be one of the first to undergo the centrifuge test. Led by a young lieutenant wearing a black T-shirt with a big white ‘1’ printed in front and on the back, they entered a concrete building, painted beige, with a sign at the entrance that said Medical Test Centre. Inside, they went along a corridor then down a spiral staircase until they came to a door on which there was just a sign saying Centrifuge. Walking in behind the lieutenant, they discovered a huge circular room, at least 75 feet in diameter, rising over two or three floors. In the middle, a huge rotating axis supported an almost horizontal metal arm some seven feet long, at the other end of which was an impressive sphere held at the sides by a kind of large fork, itself connected to the main arm by a third rotating axis. Seeing the machine, Elvire could not hold back her terror. ‘Oh my God!’ she cried. Her words had the paradoxical result of making everyone laugh, even the lieutenant who was their guide. ‘Here’s Madam’s cocktail shaker!’ he quickly joked. The members of the group laughed even more. Then, when calm had been restored, the lieutenant launched into a brief description of the machine.

‘On the upper floor,’ he said, pointing up at the glass walls all around the room, ‘are the technical and medical staff who will work the centrifuge. They will also measure the physical parameters of each of you during the test thanks to sensors which will be placed on your bodies. So if any of you have any problems with the acceleration, the test will immediately be suspended. The sphere in which you are about to climb has, inside it, five rows of five seats on two floors, a total capacity of 50 people. The seats aren’t numbered, so you can sit wherever you like. The effects are identical wherever you sit. As soon as you’ve sat down, I’ll show you how to fix the two sensors on your suits.’ To demonstrate his words, the lieutenant sat down. ‘The smaller one clips directly onto your chest, like this. The second one, which is self-adhesive, goes on the left side of your neck, on the carotid artery, like this. Then, without fastening them, buckle the two ankle straps, then the five on the central belt. First the two thigh straps, then the stomach, then the two shoulders. The straps will be fastened automatically to the correct pressure according to the information received from the weight sensors built into each seat. Right, is everyone clear about that? Good!’ Rising from his demonstration seat, the lieutenant walked up to Elvire. ‘Come with me, madam,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you to your seat.

You will have the privilege of sitting next to General Demazières during this test. He’s taking it too, and will be joining us shortly.’ ‘That’s very sweet of him,’ Elvire replied. ‘I’m very honoured! Not that I’m any happier about the test,’ she hastened to add. ‘Anyway! If we have to do it, let’s do it!’ As she was getting ready to climb the small ladder into the sphere, Quentin ran after her, calling, ‘Wait, grandma! I want to be next to you too! Come on, Martin!’ he said, turning to his friend. When they were all seated and the door was locked, a voice came through the loudspeakers. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome on board our GC05 cocktail shaker! The test will begin in a few moments, as soon as we’ve made sure that we’re receiving the information from your sensors. It will last about three minutes. For the first two minutes, only the main axis will rotate, gradually accelerating to a speed of 5 Gs. Then, for the next 35 seconds we will add the rotation of the sphere itself, and finally the rotation of the third axis, which connects the sphere to the main arm, for the remaining twenty-five seconds.’ The voice stopped. Elvire caught herself thinking that she should never have got involved in such an insane adventure at her age. It seemed to her that she was quite foolhardy and conceited in the way she was always trying to show everyone how healthy she was.

Ignoring the pains in her joints as she constantly did, she would one day end up suffering the consequences. Not to mention the heaviness she sometimes felt in her legs, which she stubbornly claimed was merely the result of having over-exerted herself the day before. For a moment, she was seized with panic. She felt ready to scream at them to stop the test but she gritted her teeth, refusing to abandon her last hope of putting some meaning back into her life. Suddenly, she felt a hand patting hers. Turning to her side, she saw the general’s piercing gaze on her. Frowning slightly at the same time as he gave her a kindly smile, he nodded his head at her as if to tell her that everything was going to be fine. It had a beneficial effect. Immediately recovering her pride, Elvire dismissed her gloomy thoughts. Assuming a more relaxed expression, she returned his smile. General Demazières opened his mouth, no doubt to whisper a last piece of advice, but immediately closed it: the machine was starting. Elvire would have liked to cross herself but contented herself with saying a silent prayer that she would get out of the ‘cocktail shaker’ unscathed. As the sensation of turning intensified, Elvire felt her body sinking deeper into her seat. When the machine had already built up quite a speed, she tried to raise her arm. Impossible! Although it was not strapped down, it felt as though it was stuck

to the armrest, and, hard as she tried, she could not move it an inch. She started to feel dizzy, and at the same time found it harder to breathe: something was pressing harder and harder on her chest. Suddenly, she shot forward, then rolled onto her side. The pressure was becoming unbearable, her heart was beating fit to burst, she was gasping for breath, and the sensation of turning in every direction was so strong that she could no longer tell what was up and what was down. In a last flash of lucidity, she thought, with terror, that she would not get out alive: she would soon have no strength left to resist, and she would die of asphyxia. Suddenly, the machine slowed down. Her breathing was easier. She was only turning in one direction now. The test would soon be at an end. As the feeling of dizziness decreased, one thought dominated her mind. ‘I’m alive! I did it! I came through!’ As if to confirm what she was thinking, a voice announced, ‘End of test. Everyone’s fine! Please stay seated until we’ve loosened your straps. As soon as you feel able to stand, do it slowly, and keep your sensors connected until the red light in front of you turns green. Then you can disconnect them and leave...’ Opening her eyes, Elvire saw the general standing over her, offering her his hand to help her up. ‘Madam,’ he said, with a smile, ‘you’ve come through the

test brilliantly! Congratulations!’ ‘Thank you, general,’ she replied, radiant with pride, and took his hand. ‘I must confess there was a moment back there when I thought my time was up!’ The general laughed and patted her on the shoulder. ‘I think your joyful attitude to life is going to keep you among us for a good while yet!’ Then, looking embarrassed, he said, ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to abandon you for the rest of the day. I have to check the procedures for tomorrow’s launch. But I’m sure I’ll see you at the party tonight, won’t I?’ ‘Very definitely, general!’ Elvire replied. ‘And thank you again for your support!’ The rest of the schedule went off without incident for group number one. Eve the stamina test, which consisted of walking then trotting on a moving walkway for the equivalent of a few hundred yards, was merely a formality for Elvire, who was used to walking everywhere. At the end of the afternoon, however, they learned that four people, including a somewhat overweight gentleman they had seen in the hall of the airport before they left, who had had a hard time in the centrifuge test and had been driven back to the city where he would stay overnight in a hotel and then take the first flight to Brussels. Quentin, meanwhile, was delighted: for the lift-off he would be in the front row of the seventh shuttle, just behind the pilot.

That would give him the chance to see outside, which he could not have done from any other seat, as the shuttles did not have windows. His one regret was that he would not have Martin as a travelling companion; Martin and his parents were going to be in the fifth or sixth shuttle, he could not remember which. As the journey would only last two hours, he would see him soon enough on board the cylinder. As for Laure, now that she was no longer worried about her mother being on the final journey, she had started smiling again, and was constantly talking to her mother and Anne-Marie about the life that awaited them on Mars. The sun was almost down when they got back to their dormitory about six-thirty, to get ready for that evening’s party. When they arrived, they found the hall decorated with paper chains in many colours. They also saw that more appropriate costumes had been placed on every camp bed in an attempt to create a more convivial atmosphere for the party. Unfolding a short-sleeved, flowery silk shirt and a pair of white shorts, Thierry could not hide his pleasure from Jean-Luc. ‘Great!’ he cried. ‘I’ve been wanting to buy something like this for years! A pity we probably have to leave it here tomorrow. Anyway, I take back what I said about the military before. You have to admit they know how to organize things...’

‘No, look!’ Jean-Luc said, pointing out that there was a printed sheet of paper under each costume. ‘They write that it’s a gift from the Kourou base to each person taking part in the mission and that by special dispensation we can take it with us to Mars! It’s signed by General Demazières! ‘Well,’ Thierry said, ‘I really like the man more and more and I’m sorry I’m not under his orders on this mission. Now let’s hurry up, or there’ll be nothing left to eat!’ In an atmosphere that was a blend of Texan, thanks to the mouth-watering smell of barbecued ribs, and Creole, through the costumes and the rhythm of the music being played by the local band, Laure and Anne-Marie were having a go at dancing merengue, while Thierry and Jean-Luc were finishing off a huge Argentinian steak. Noticing how pensive Thierry seemed, Jean- Luc asked, ‘What are you thinking about? You seem quite worried!’ ‘What? Oh…’ Thierry said, clearing his throat. ‘Actually I was just thinking about the lift-off tomorrow… Do you think everything will go all right?’ ‘What an idea! Of course everything will go all right! Listen, the programme started nearly twenty-five years ago and there’s never been the slightest accident on lift-off…’ He laughed. ‘So stop thinking gloomy thoughts and let’s go and join our wives, otherwise some handsome officer will steal them from us!’ ‘You’re right, Jean-Luc, it would be stupid not to make the most of it!’ Thierry replied, standing up.

Meanwhile, Elvire, who had preferred to keep her suit on to take advantage of its built-in air conditioning, had been invited to General Demazières’ table. Seated to the right of her host, she glanced from time to time at Quentin and Martin to make sure they were not doing anything stupid. They had undertaken to help the cooks grill the meat but seemed more interested in egging each other on than in supervising the cooking. Aware of her anxiety, the General had ordered one of his soldiers to keep an eye on them while pretending to participate in their game, which reassured Elvire. Pleased that he had stepped in, she made an effort to get to know him better. ‘What about you, General?’ she said. ‘What persuaded you to take part in this adventure?’ ‘I’ll tell you, madam,’ he said. ‘But before I do, I’d like it – since we are at a party, after all – if we could abandon protocol a little. My first name is Pierre!’ Smiling at his suggestion, she nodded. ‘That’s a really nice name, Pierre… Mine’s Elvire… Elvire Cartier.’ ‘An unusual name, and very pretty, too! Well, my dear Elvire… Since my wife died, nearly ten years ago – and as we never had children – I’ve been all alone, apart from the army which has been like a family to me. Although I’m close to retiring age – I’m 67 – I’ve been given a special dispensation to

continue my career until I’m 70. So when the opportunity arose to postpone that deadline a little longer, I didn’t hesitate for a moment! On reflection, I think the reason they accepted me as a volunteer was because they were interested in having a guinea pig who was a little bit older on the mission… But I intend to show them that I’m perfectly capable of carrying out all the duties of my office.’ ‘I don’t doubt it for a moment,’ Elvire replied. ‘And since you’ve done me the honour of confiding in me, I must tell you that I completely understand your motives, because mine are very similar. It was a real shock for me seven years ago when I had to abandon my job as a teacher. I’d also asked for a dispensation, but, given that the profession is overstaffed, it was refused. Luckily, I was able to find a way of keeping contact with children by giving unpaid religious instruction classes at the school in my village. Unfortunately, the school had to close down a few months ago, so when the President made his speech asking for volunteers it came as a godsend, something that gave me one last opportunity to make myself useful…’ ‘Well,’ the general said, ‘I’m happy to see that we have something in common. But you do have one advantage over me – you’ve had children. Laure Derose is your daughter, isn’t she?’ ‘Yes, Pierre, my only daughter, and I’m very proud of

her! But she fusses too much about me. If I hadn’t volunteered, I think she’d have preferred to sacrifice her own chances rather than abandon me to my fate on Earth. So you see, your responsibility towards your children doesn’t stop at giving them a good upbringing and helping them to find their way in life. Anyway,’ she sighed, ‘at the moment, things doesn’t seem to be turning out too badly. I just hope I’ve made the right decision. I’d never forgive myself if because of me they’d chosen a risky ‘Ah, he’s a good boy!’ the general cut in. ‘Did you know he impressed our engineers with his knowledge of conditions in space and his intuitive grasp of the resources of his survival suit? He’d make a fine recruit if he ever decided on a military career… As for your feelings of guilt towards your family, it does you credit, but all the same you mustn’t forget that, as laid down in the conditions, each of them decided to take part in this mission of his own free will. Even Quentin, from what I gather.’ ‘You’re right, Pierre,’ Elvire agreed. ‘So why don’t we make the most of this last night, as it’s so pleasant? Would it seem out of place if I suggested joining the others and having a dance? We’re almost the only ones still left sitting and chatting!’ ‘I feel ashamed not to have suggested it first,’ the general replied, leaping to his feet.

And with that, he elegantly held out his arm and led Elvire onto the dance floor.

Chapter 4 The Wrong Trajectory At exactly eight o’clock the following morning, there was a deafening roar as the first rocket tore its thousands of tons free of the force of Earth’s gravity. Quentin and Martin, who had somehow managed to find two pairs of binoculars, were following the spectacle with great excitement through the windows of the command post. Rising very slowly at first, then more and more quickly into the atmosphere, the rocket described a perfect trajectory, marked by the trail of condensed water that was as distinctly visible as a chalk line on the clear blue background of the tropical sky over Kourou. Thirty seconds after lift-off, all that could be seen was a point of light, the line of which was starting to flatten out in order to join its orbit at 22,000 miles above the ground! Like most of the onlookers, Quentin and Martin forced their way through to the railing of the mezzanine where they were, so that they could look up at the giant screen showing the progress of the rocket in relation to the theoretical position it was supposed to be following. Very quickly, the point of light which represented its real position reached then passed the red point indicating the success of the launch. As it did so, applause broke out all over the hall. Then a voice confirmed over the loudspeakers, ‘First departure successfully completed! Countdown for the second to begin in forty-five seconds. The

people allocated to the third and fourth shuttles are requested to board their respective buses!’ As one, a group of two hundred people left the mezzanine and went down to the car park on the ground floor. Only half an hour before the departure of the first shuttle, the colonists on the second had taken their seats inside it, and the same procedure would continue for the following launches, two shuttles at a time. Thinking again about the fact that they were going to be separated for the flight to the station, Quentin asked Martin, ‘So in the end, are you on the fifth or sixth shuttle?’ ‘Well, we still don’t know!’ Martin replied. ‘Some people have asked for changes so that they could be together and they told us we would be reallocated in the buses, at the last moment, because they still had to calculate the weights. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter which one it is! Look!’ he said to Quentin, pointing at the screen. ‘That’s it! They’re in orbit!’ ‘Mega fantastic!’ Quentin said. ‘They’re lucky. They’re nearly there already! The first thing I’d like to do on the cylinder is visit the spacehand hall. I hope being in the seventh shuttle, we won’t arrive too late and be forced to wait until tomorrow!’ ‘Oh, yes, that would be a pity!’ Martin said. ‘I’d really like to know how it feels to be weightless!’ They were so fascinated by the subject of their

conversation that they did not pay attention to the countdown and almost missed the spectacle of the second then the third launch, which both went off just as perfectly as the first. Martin was suddenly brought back to reality when he felt a hand come down firmly on his shoulder. He jumped in fright and turned quickly. It was his father. ‘Come on, young man! Didn’t you hear? It’s our turn!’ ‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said. As he started following Jean-Luc, he turned to Quentin and called out, in a parody of an old science fiction film, ‘See you later, Quentin, and may the force be with you! While the countdown for the fourth shuttle was going on, Quentin watched through his binoculars as the buses drove towards rockets five and six. He tried to spot Martin. But the magnification was not strong enough and he could only see two groups of people, each next to one of the rockets, who soon disappeared into the lifts that would take them to the top, where the shuttles were. Disappointed at not having seen his friend, he watched with less enthusiasm and a slight touch of anxiety as first the fourth, then the fifth rocket left. He was getting ready to go down to the car park when he heard a voice cry out in the hall, ‘The trajectory! Correct the trajectory, God damn it!’ Rushing to the railing to see the screen, Quentin quickly

realized what was happening when he saw the point of light veering dangerously towards the bottom of the prescribed trajectory. At the same moment, the green light situated beneath the inscription Left Booster turned red, and an alarm went off, indicating the imminent self-destruction of the rocket. Three or four seconds later, the point of light went out, and everyone froze in terror. The alarm continued sounding for a few more moments, until one of the technicians cut the supply, plunging the hall into a deathly silence. The pervasive paralysis was broken by cries of distress and Quentin saw a young woman faint a few yards from him. ‘Martin!’ he suddenly thought. ‘I hope he…’ Turning immediately to his mother, who was opening her arms to him with an alarmed look on her face, he ran to her and hugged her as tightly as he could. ‘Mum! Martin!’ he managed to cry, in a desperate voice. ‘Don’t panic!’ Thierry said. ‘We don’t know if they were in that one or if they’re still down there,’ he said, pointing to the sixth rocket waiting on the launching pad. ‘Stay here, I’m going to try and find out.’ He went down to the control room but no sooner did he reach the foot of the stairs than an officer barred his way and asked him to turn back and remain where he was. Nevertheless, he noted Thierry’s question and told him it would be answered as soon as possible.

An interminable wait began. The colonists looked at each other, asked each other questions, passed solemn, painful comments on the event that had just taken place and its likely consequences. Some seemed determined to cancel their commitment. Others considered that an accident was part of the risks they had accepted: it must not shake their determination to continue. Given how reliable the rockets were, the likelihood of another incident was almost non-existent. But they had all become abruptly aware of the nature of the mission. It was clearly not going to be a walkover, and the risks about which they had been informed were quite real. After about an hour, the already familiar face of General Demazières appeared on the giant screen, a grim but determined look on his face. As soon as a technician had finished clipping a small mike on him, the general began speaking. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, fellow citizens of Planet Earth! The tragic event that has just occurred before our very eyes reminds us in the most horrifying manner that we are in a war! A war for the survival of mankind! A war that began just over twenty years ago without a clearly defined enemy, without any suffering, without any victims until today… On behalf of President Carpenter, with whom I have just spoken, and of all the nations of the Earth, I offer my sincere condolences to the families of those who have just paid the ultimate price for the

hopes of a whole race! ‘As I speak, the launches in Kourou, Houston and Baikonur have been suspended. The question we must ask ourselves now – and I am particularly addressing those colonists who have not yet taken off – is whether or not to continue. If we have to stop the programme and wait for the conclusions of the inquiry, then resume in six months or a year – for whatever happens we will continue, we have no choice – that will also create an extra problem. What to do about the hundreds of people who have already arrived on the cylinders, since the cylinders were not built to stay in orbit indefinitely? ‘The other solution is therefore to resume the original programme immediately. But of course we cannot ignore the major trauma just experienced by the colonists who are still on the launch sites. That’s why we are asking the three launch centres to organise a secret ballot within the next hour, so that everyone has a chance to express his opinion on whether or not to continue with the mission. Once we have the results, depending on the number of volunteers remaining, we will decide on what is the best possible option. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, fellow citizens, thank you for listening!’ the general said in conclusion, and disappeared from the screen. Immediately contact had been cut, a hubbub arose among the colonists gathered in the hall. Many seemed not to know

what decision to make in such a short time. The ordeal they had been through drew them out of their reserve and led them to approach other people who had been strangers just a few minutes earlier. Some voices rose a little louder, saying that, if it was at all possible, they should try to reach a majority decision, one way or another. In short, the situation was creating a spirit of solidarity within the group. Soon after, a soldier made his way towards Thierry and handed him a paper folded in two. He opened it and saw that it was a telemessage from General Demazières. It read: Guilberts safe and sound in shuttle n°6 – stop – May God show you the way – stop – Best wishes Demazières – end. ‘Phew! The Guilberts are alive!’ Thierry cried, handing the message to Quentin. After also reading it, Quentin slowly lifted his head and looked at his mother and father. Although he should have been shouting for joy at the news, his face – although his eyes were still red with emotion – expressed no discernable feeling, neither happiness not sadness. In a remarkably calm, steady voice, and with a composure his parents had never seen in him before, he said, ‘Mum and Dad, I’ve just realized something. We may feel affection for certain people, but things sometimes happen in life that may lead to us being separated from them, and we can’t always control that.

So we shouldn’t base our own future just on what we feel about those who are dear to us, but rather on our own choices! Don’t be surprised by what I’m saying, you know how much I love you. But I’ve made my decision. I want to continue because I have no personal reasons to want to stop taking part in this mission!’ Thierry’s response was to go to his son, hug him, and whisper, in a deeply moved voice, ‘It’s nice to see you grow up, son!’ Two hours later, a decision had been taken. On all three bases, 98% of the colonists wanted to continue the journey to Mars, much to the satisfaction of General Demazières, whose words had been very fairly heard and understood. Strapped into his front row seat, Quentin watched the last seconds go by on the dial in front of him. At lift-off minus thirty seconds, his body shook from the vibrations of the boosters which had just come on. At minus ten seconds, the clanking noise was so deafening that he could not help closing his eyes… He barely heard the captain’s voice say at the last moment, ‘3, 2, 1, arms jettisoned, lift-off!’ He felt himself move, gradually rising, then going faster and faster, and at the same time the pressure on his ribcage increased. After a good minute of this, the vibrations at last seemed to subside. ‘Two minutes!’ the captain announced. ‘Trajectory

observed, boosters to be jettisoned in – get set! – thirty seconds.’ Opening his eyes at last, Quentin saw a bewitching spectacle through the window of the cockpit: against a jet-black sky, myriads of stars and constellations, many more than he had ever seen at one time from Earth, even on a clear summer night. The feeling of pressure was gradually decreasing and, spellbound by this view of space, he was starting to feel more relaxed. But suddenly, two explosions were heard. A shiver of terror went down his spine. In a reflex action, he gripped his parents’ hands tighter. Then the captain’s voice reassured him: ‘Boosters successfully jettisoned! Everything’s fine! Optimum trajectory, orbit in – get set – sixty seconds. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the suburbs of Earth!” In response, a crackle of applause sounded in the cabin, as well as a few admiring whistles. Quentin turned to Elvire, somewhat anxiously, to see how well she had stood the lift-off. She gave him a conspiratorial wink, like an old sea dog after a violent storm. Reassured, he settled more comfortably in his seat and looked out at the magnificent landscape spread before him. Now there was only another hour or two to wait before the rendezvous with the orbiting station, on the other side of a planet called Earth. Once the shuttle was out in the emptiness of space, gliding towards its destination, a calmer atmosphere settled over the cabin. The varied emotions Quentin had felt since the

beginning of the day, in addition to the physical fatigue caused by the lift-off, got the better of his desire to stay awake, and he soon fell into a deep sleep... He was dreaming, and could already see himself as captain of the spacehand team, bearing the hopes of the whole Federation as he confronted a team of Martians in a match the result of which would determine whether or not Earth would survive. Just as he scored the winning goal, the captain’s voice woke him with a start. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, in a few minutes we are going to link up with Cylinder No 3 and proceed with your transfer. I’ll get back to you then to remind you of the procedure. For the moment, I suggest you watch our approach to the station on the video screens in the central aisle. Enjoy the show and I’ll speak to you soon!’ Quentin looked into the cockpit and there, in the direct line of the shuttle, he saw a point of light that grew larger as he watched. Gradually, he began to distinguish the outline of the station, which consisted of several cylindrical modules arranged in the shape of a cross. On either side, solar panels gleamed, placed at right angles to the central axes of the modules. From a distance, they looked like the spread wings of a group of seagulls hovering over an invisible prey. Then, less well lit than their

home base, the vast outlines of the five cylinders appeared, connected, three on one side and two on the other, to the main axis of the station. At this distance, it was not easy to make out the metal cables that held them in place. They appeared fragile and absurdly small compared with the enormous mass of the cylinders. In fact, Quentin knew perfectly well that in the absence of the force of gravity, a mere fishing line would be solid enough to hold several tons in a weightless state. All the same, he found it hard to shake off the impression of fragility which the overall view gave him. He felt a sudden desire to get on board the big cigar-shaped ship as soon as possible and be out of harm’s way in case the cables broke. In the place where they were going to berth, Quentin noticed two wheels in line with the ship, each consisting of five spokes. At the ends of some of them, a shuttle was attached in the middle on the top. So that was how they were going to link up with the ship, Quentin told himself.

Chapter 5 The Orbiting Station A few minutes later, a sharp, metallic sound confirmed that the shuttle had been stowed on one of the free arms of the cross. Soon after, the arm started turning, creating an artificial gravity in the floor of the shuttle. Once again, the captain’s voice was heard. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we are now safely stowed in the transfer airlock of cylinder No 3. I’m going to open the hatchway situated above your heads, in the middle of the central aisle. After it opens, a ladder will drop to the floor of the shuttle. I’ll go in front and you will follow me calmly in single file. As we cross towards the connecting sphere, we’re going to lose the gravity created by the rotation of the wheel. By the time we get to the other end, we will be in a state of total weightlessness. All you have to do is crawl gently along a bar to get to the entrance of the cylinder at the end of the central airlock linking the cylinder and the sphere. All we’ll have to do then is go down another ladder to reach the inner wall of the cylinder and gradually get back to normal gravity. There, it’s quite simple! The first row will follow me to start, then the second, and so on. Has everyone understood? Let’s go then!’ They crossed the bar and went along the main corridor as planned, without any problems. In less than ten minutes,

everyone was together on the entrance platform of the cylinder. Elvire was the first to recognize General Demazières at the head of the reception committee. Delighted to see that she had arrived safely, he gave her a friendly little wave, to which she responded discreetly. Then he gave the new colonists his sixth welcoming speech, which met with vigorous applause. When they finally entered the ship, they were astonished at the vast dimensions of the section of the cylinder where they were standing. A young officer addressed them. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, the cylinder in which we shall be travelling has certainly been built to welcome 2,000 colonists! It is nearly four hundred feet in diameter and six hundred and fifty feet in length. That makes a usable surface, at the level of the inner wall, of about 270,000 square feet! The room where we are now is the part devoted to the running and supplying of the main thrusters. Make the most of the sight, since it’s the only part of the ship without inner walls, where you are really aware of its impressive dimensions.’ Spotting two technicians working over on the opposite side, the officer pointed at them and said, ‘Look, you’re in luck!’ Quentin looked at the two workers, who were in dark blue suits. The astonishing thing about them was that they were upside down in relation to his group but did not seem to be having any difficulty in remaining upright.

One of them crouched, then got down on all fours to open a control panel, looking, as he did so, so much like some kind of big fly hanging from the ceiling of the room that the colonists all burst out laughing. Becoming aware of the interest he was arousing, he looked up at the group and started moving around on his back and pulling faces simulating the contortions of a spider getting ready to pounce on its prey, which increased the laughter tenfold. Then he waved to them, before getting back to serious work. Several of the colonists responded in kind, then turned back to the young officer, who resumed his commentary. ‘Amusing, isn’t it? But time is passing… It’s already nearly six-thirty! We must hurry because the evening meal is at seven o’clock on the dot! I can imagine that with all the different emotions you’ve been through, you must be getting hungry… So I’m going to take you to your apartments now, so that you have time to settle in a little before dinner. Please follow me!’ After going along about a hundred yards of corridor then through several areas in which they a saw a variety of technical equipment and some halls clearly intended for communal use, they went through a final airlock into a corridor that resembled that of a hotel, with numbered doors on either side. As they advanced, the young officer called out the

surnames of the colonists and the numbers of the apartments allocated to them. Gradually, the group grew smaller, until there were no more than a dozen people left. Finally, he stopped in front of a door and said, ‘Family Derose, apartment number 16!’ Then he turned to Thierry. ‘Major, according to my form, you’ve ordered a private meal for your first night, is that right?’ ‘That’s right, lieutenant,’ replied Thierry. ‘Good. It’s quite simple, then. You just have to wait in your apartment and the meal you ordered will be served to you at about eight o’clock. Is that all right with you?’ ‘Perfectly,’ Thierry said. ‘Thank you.’ ‘All right, then! Oh, I nearly forgot... as you planned to have dinner with the Guilbert family, who arrived on a previous shuttle, we thought you would be happy to be together. They’ve been allocated apartment 14, right next to yours!’ ‘That’s wonderful news!’ Thierry cried, all smiles. ‘Please thank the officer in charge of allocations for me!’ ‘Frankly, I don’t think he had anything to do with it, major. It comes from much higher up!’ ‘Oh, I see...’ Thierry nodded. ‘Well in that case, I’ll be able to thank him in person! Thanks all the same!’ The young lieutenant was about to take his leave when Quentin, unable to restrain himself any longer, called, ‘Sir! Sir! Wait! I wanted to ask you... When can we visit the cylinder? Especially the space – I mean the sports hall?’

‘Oh, don’t worry!’ the lieutenant replied, patting him on the head. ‘A guided tour of the facilities is scheduled for nine o’clock tomorrow morning. The meeting point is the main lecture theatre... There’s a note explaining all that as well as a comprehensive map of the cylinder on the welcome video in your apartment. You just have to press the red light on the screen: it flashes to indicate that you have a message…’ ‘Oh, good!’ Quentin said. ‘Thanks!’ ‘What’s your name?’ the lieutenant asked. ‘Quentin, sir!’ ‘Well, Quentin,’ the lieutenant said, ‘if you behave yourself between now and tomorrow, I’ll personally introduce you to Michel Combert who’s a very good friend of mine and, most importantly, the official coach of the spacehand teams! How about that?’ ‘Yes!’ Quentin said. Mega fantastic! Thanks a lot!’ ‘OK!’ the lieutenant said, patting Quentin on the hand. ‘It’s a deal!’ He turned to Thierry. ‘Until tomorrow, major!’ ‘Until tomorrow, lieutenant,’ Thierry replied. ‘Thanks for everything!’ They entered the apartment, and found themselves in a room of about sixty square feet with a table and four chairs in the middle. On the table were three video screens arranged in the shape of a truncated pyramid. At the far end of the room, on the right, were two tall units going from the floor to the ceiling, each with a door. Laure pressed a button, and the door slid open, revealing a shower cubicle in the right hand corner. The second unit, slightly wider,

contained two wash basins placed opposite each other, but out of line, so that two people could use them simultaneously. On the left of the room, also against the far wall, was a third unit containing a toilet. Between them, a surface with rounded edges, which could be used as an office or worktop. In the middle of the right-hand wall was the main video screen, with its flashing red light. Opposite, two doors slid upwards to give access to the bedrooms: one with twin beds for Thierry and Laure, the other with bunk beds for Quentin and Elvire, both with fitted cupboards. The whole set-up might seem a little spartan in comparison with their house on Earth, but the layout was well thought out and functional, giving each person just enough living space not to feel suffocated by being on top of one another. Laure, though, was sorry there were no windows to see outside. Thierry made a joke of it, reminding her that the outside was beneath her feet and imitating her looking down at the ground and gazing at the stars! Somewhat hurt at first, but too tired out by the journey to react, Laure finally smiled then laughed out loud at her mistake. At that moment, the buzzer rang. Rushing to the button that opened the door, Quentin was overjoyed to see the Guilberts. They must have heard them arrive. Quentin threw himself in Martin’s arms. ‘Good old Martin! You really scared us, you know, not

knowing if you were in the fifth or the sixth shuttle!’ ‘You said it, Quentin,’ Martin replied, still quite scared. ‘We were that close to taking the fifth!’ Behind him, Jean-Luc and Anne-Marie were bringing in a fold-up table from their apartment. ‘Let me know when you’ve finished blocking the door, Martin!’ Anne-Marie said to her son, somewhat annoyed. ‘Then we’ll be able to get in too!’ Martin immediately stepped aside, drew Quentin to him and whispered, ‘You’ve no idea how irritable she’s been since we arrived! She’s always like that when she hasn’t slept properly. She’ll be better tomorrow...’ Thierry rushed to Anne-Marie and took the table from her. Then he kissed her and said in a humorous tone, ‘At least you haven’t lost your personality on the journey! Come in and sit down, Jean-Luc and I will take care of everything.’ And to Jean-Luc he said, ‘Glad to see you in one piece! How are you feeling?’ ‘A bit shattered, but fine,’ Jean-Luc replied. ‘The worst of it was having to wait more than two hours, half lying in the rocket, in a boiling hot temperature, without knowing what was going on! Still, rather that than what happened to those who took the shuttle before ours…’

Chapter 6 Happy Birthday No sooner had the table been set up than the bell rang again. When the door slid open, two young men in waiters’ uniforms appeared. The first wheeled in a trolley with the dishes that had been ordered, then turned out the light and stepped aside to make way for the second waiter, who carried in a magnificent birthday cake with twelve candles. Everyone except Quentin burst into song. ‘Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Quentin! Happy birthday to you!’ The birthday boy looked wide-eyed at the cake and smiled shyly. With everything that had been happening, he had completely forgotten that it was his birthday, and he was taken totally by surprise. One after the other, first Martin, then Anne- Marie and Jean-Luc, Elvire, and finally his parents crowded around him, kissed him and gave him a present each. In all, he received four packages, which he placed on the table behind him. ‘Go on, open them!’ his father said, smiling. ‘We’re starting to be hungry with all these nice smells.’ He looked longingly at the trolley of food. Quentin seized the first small package, which Martin had given him. Immediately he started laughing, realizing that it was a bag of those famous toffee and chocolate sweets he liked so much. ‘Chocolate eclairs! Great! Thanks, Martin.’ He hugged his friend. Then he thought about it and said, ‘But surely it was forbidden to bring food! How did you manage it?’

‘Well, I hid them inside one of my toys and they didn’t check it...’ Martin spluttered. ‘Mega lucky!’ Quentin said. ‘Well, every time we have something to celebrate, we’ll eat one together!’ Then he put the bag back on the table and picked up the Guilberts’ package. It was a small rectangular box, about five inches long and a couple of inches wide. Shaking it, Quentin heard a metallic noise. He tore the wrapping and discovered one of those famous Swiss knives that included lots of different tools. ‘Mega fantastic!’ Quentin cried. ‘I’ve wanted one of these for years! But Dad always told me it was too dangerous at my age.’ He looked anxiously at his father out of the corner of his eye. ‘I still think that!’ Thierry said to Quentin. ‘But now I think you’re old enough to be aware of it, so I gave my permission to Martin’s parents to buy you one. Be particularly careful of the blades, they’re very sharp! I hope I haven’t made a mistake and that you’ll use it well. Can I trust you?’ ‘Of course, Dad, you can count on me!’ Quentin replied, proud to realize that his age brought new privileges with it. There only remained two gifts to open, both quite large. He looked more closely at the one from his parents, wondering about its contents. It was wrapped in brown paper: official paper with the logo of the Federation on it. But wanting to keep – at

least so he hoped – the best for last, he moved it aside and picked up the present from his grandmother. The size of this one gave him a good idea of its contents. The dimensions appeared to be those of a chess board. But he was not sure, because the package seemed a little too heavy. Finally, he decided to take off the thick tape from the top of the box in order to open the two flaps. They immediately flew up by themselves, as if pushed by a spring. Quentin was astonished by the beauty of what he saw. ‘It’s – it’s wonderful, grandma!’ he stammered. ‘You shouldn’t have… It must have cost you a lot!” It was indeed a chess board, but a particularly sumptuous wooden one, a real work of art. Very carefully, Quentin took it out of the box and placed it on the table. Each corner of the board rested on a gilded brass foot shaped like a lion’s paw, which lifted it slightly. The design was inspired by the Middle Ages. The surface of the board was made of rosewood for the white squares and ebony for the black. It could be opened to reveal a lot of small compartments lined in red felt, one for each of the pieces. The artist had carved and painted each piece by hand, as the instructions indicated. The king, for example, was a figure in armour wearing a crown. In one hand he held a sword

and in the other a shield bearing his coat of arms. The queen, also crowned, was resplendent in a magnificent gown decorated with sparkling jewels. Bishops, knights, rooks and pawns were equally elaborate. ‘General Demazières told me he loves chess,’ Elvire said to Quentin. ‘Perhaps he’ll agree to play with you occasionally.’ ‘That would be fantastic!’ Quentin said. ‘You will ask him, won’t you, grandma?’ ‘I promise, darling!’ she replied. ‘Go on, open the last one!’ Martin butted in. ‘I’m also starting to be really hungry!’ Rubbing his hands as if getting ready to enjoy his favourite dessert, Quentin grabbed the last package and feverishly tore off the wrapping paper. Suddenly, one side came away, revealing the contents. When he saw what it was, Quentin was stunned. ‘But… but… it’s Theo, my androdog!’ He quickly extricated Theo from the box and hugged him. ‘Good old Theo! You don’t know how much I’ve missed you!’ With tears in his eyes, he threw himself in his parents’ arms. ‘Thank you! Thank you from the bottom of my heart! It’s the best present of all! I love both of you very much!’ Breathing heavily and wiping his cheeks, he asked his mother, ‘Oh Mum, please can I reload his memory bank straight away? I never want to see him like this again, completely lifeless! Please, Mum?’ ‘All right!’ Laure said. ‘I’ll give you ten minutes, while we lay the table! Go on, run to your room with Martin! But

come back as soon as I call you, all right? You’ll have plenty of time to play after the meal!’ ‘OK, Mum. Thanks again!’ Then, suddenly remembering that it was also forbidden to bring andropods on board, he turned anxiously to his father. ‘But Dad! Surely I’m not allowed to…’ ‘Don’t worry, Quen. You won’t have to hide him. It wasn’t easy, but my boss used his influence and we managed to get an official dispensation to bring Theo. So you can go anywhere you want with him in the ship… except to school, of course!’ Thierry thought it wise to add, with a smile. ‘Mega fantastic!’ Quentin cried happily, running to his room followed by Martin. The next morning, just before nine, Quentin and Martin were waiting with their families and the other colonists in the lecture theatre. In keeping with the military precision of the organization, a senior officer climbed onto the stage at exactly nine o’clock. More severe and less friendly in manner than General Demazières, he introduced himself as Colonel Charles Traffort, the general’s assistant in charge of arranging the tours of the ship for the new arrivals. Clearly trying to carry out his task as quickly as possible, he explained briefly that the ship was divided into four sections, each about one hundred and sixty feet in length. Each section was autonomous, so that, even if it was accidentally detached from the others, its occupants would be

able to survive for a period of two to three months while waiting to be rescued. The first section, at the front of the ship, consisted mainly of the ship’s command post and the research laboratories. The second and third sections were where the life of the ship really took place, including the colonists’ apartments as well as the communal areas for eating, work and entertainment. The fourth and final section contained the main thrusters and their fuel supplies as well as the various energy and communication systems. His mind drifting from a monotonous speech lacking in enthusiasm, Quentin was mechanically stroking the head of the reborn Theo, who was sitting between his feet. Staring into the distance, he was thinking that he was finally going to see the sports complex where the spacehand hall was located. Letting out a deep sigh, he did not realize that Theo had opened one eye and lifted one ear towards Quentin. Still dreaming, Quentin was caressing him a little more strongly. He had no idea that at that moment Theo’s sensors were recording and analyzing the growing pressure and moistness of Quentin’s hands as signs of deep boredom. Suddenly, Theo stood up on all four legs and began barking at the platform and the colonel. Surprised, Quentin was just in time to hold him back and stop him from rushing onto the stage. He had to shout at him firmly twice to get him to calm down. At last, Theo obeyed, upset and

surprised by his master’s reaction when he thought he had done the right thing. Interrupted in his speech, the colonel looked in the androdog’s direction. He seemed annoyed. ‘Well, ladies and gentlemen,’ he resumed, in a not very friendly voice, ‘despite my efforts to spare you a long speech, it seems I still haven’t been concise enough for some tastes! Since that is so and as I have many other more important tasks awaiting me, I suggest we stop now. Get into your tour groups with your respective guides. If any of you have any questions, they’ll be able to answer them directly.’ Without thanking his audience, Traffort headed for the exit, throwing Quentin an angry look as he did so. Martin, watching him, whispered, ‘Well, Quentin, I don’t think you’ve made yourself a friend!’ ‘Seeing the kind of man he is, I don’t really care!’ Quentin replied. ‘Isn’t that right, Theo?’ he asked his dog. Theo yelped in agreement, jumping around Quentin. It seemed to be his way of saying that he had been right to act as he had done since his master was in a good mood again. ‘What an idiot the man is!’ Thierry said to Jean-Luc. ‘I’m surprised the general chose him as his assistant!’ ‘Maybe he didn’t!’ Jean-Luc said, in a humorous tone. ‘You’re right! They must have forced him on him! Still, we must be careful with the fellow. I hope we have as little as possible to do with him…’

Chapter 7 Cylinder City ‘Do you recognise me?’ Lieutenant McGill asked Quentin, shaking his shoulder. ‘I’m the guide for your group on this tour.’ ‘Yes!’ Quentin replied. ‘It was you who took us to our apartment yesterday…’ ‘That’s right!’ McGill said, laughing. ‘I see you have a good memory for faces!’ (He was a black man from Togo.) ‘So do you remember our bargain? But first, I have to know if you’ve been behaving!’ He looked questioningly at Laure. ‘He’s been very good, lieutenant. No doubt about it! It would have been hard for him not to be, given that we threw him a little party, last night, for his birthday!’ ‘Wow! You didn’t tell me that, Quentin! Happy birthday! Anyway, as I promised, I have a surprise for you.’ He winked. ‘I’ll show you during the tour.’ ‘Thank you, sir!’ Quentin replied, delighted. ‘Hey,’ McGill said, ‘let’s forget about protocol… You can call me Henry!’ Then he turned to the group. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, shall we start our tour? Here’s the schedule. First of all, we’re going to the front of the ship to see the command bridge, then we’ll come back this way to visit the various communal areas. As you will see, our facilities can easily rival those of a small city. We have everything! We have five differently themed restaurants, two spaces like the lecture hall we’ve just left which also functions as a cinema and a theatre. We also have a multidenominational chapel, a hospital, a

school, a university, a greenhouse that’s part of a leisure centre which also includes a tropical pleasure beach, and finally a superb sports complex with a few new activities which some of you are already very interested in! Right, if you’d like to follow me, it’s this way! During the tour, which was to culminate in a visit to the sports complex, Quentin and Martin, not very keen to see the other communal areas, preferred to stay at the back of the group and play. They imagined themselves exploring new worlds on interstellar voyages in the ship that Thierry was going to build. Suddenly, they were brought back to reality by Lieutenant McGill, who announced in a voice loud enough to attract their attention, ‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, we’re entering the sports complex through what you can see from the sign on this door is the main entrance of the spacehand arena!’ Immediately, as if they had been given an electric shock, the two friends rushed to the front of the group to be with Henry. As they reached him, the door opened and a man more than six feet tall appeared. A well-built, athletic looking man in his forties, he was wearing a strange uniform which made him look like a cross between a hockey player and the Michelin man. His face, cold and impassive at first, suddenly lit up in a warm smile when he recognized his friend McGill. ‘Hey! Henry! You see, I’m on time!

How are you?’ ‘Very well, thanks, and you’re looking great! Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, addressing the group, ‘allow me to introduce Michel Combert, manager of the sports complex, but above all coach of our official spacehand teams!’ ‘Hello, ladies and gentlemen!’ Combert said in a loud voice. ‘I bid you welcome. I’m at the disposal of all those gentlemen who’d like to take advantage of our little journey to increase their body muscle… and all those ladies who’d like to reduce their body fat!’ And he burst into a high-pitched laugh like the neighing of a horse, which provoked hilarity among the colonists. Resuming a more serious tone, he again addressed the lieutenant. ‘So Henry, where are your volunteers?’ ‘Here they are!’ McGill said, pointing to Quentin and Martin. ‘What?’ Combert cried. ‘But they’re kids! You know perfectly well I only take on over-15s! These two can’t be more than twelve or thirteen!’ ‘Fourteen!’ Martin said, defensively. ‘And you?’ Combert asked Quentin. ‘Not much less!’ Quentin replied, mischievously. ‘Dammit, Henry! Are you pulling my leg or what? What am I supposed to do with these boys?’ ‘Come on, Michel, you’re the first to say that quality has nothing to with age. At least give them a chance! I can assure you these two are really motivated! Besides, don’t forget you haven’t had that many volunteers… Well?’ ‘Hmmm…’ Combert was thinking about his friend’s last words, and the very real problem he was having in recruiting players.

Finally he sighed and nodded, with an air of resignation. ‘Well, why not? If their parents agree, I’ll give them a try!’ ‘Mega fantastic!’ Quentin and Martin cried, jumping up and down on the spot, and raising their arms in a victory sign to express their joy. ‘Hey, calm down, boys!’ Combert said loudly. ‘It’s not over yet! First you’ll have to prove to me that what you lack in muscle power you can make up in speed. If I were you, I’d avoid wasting my energy. You’re going to need all you can get in the next few minutes!’ He took a key from his pocket and showed it to them. ‘Look!’ he said. ‘This opens the changing room behind me, at the end of the corridor on the right. You have ten minutes to find a uniform that fits you, while I show the others over the complex. Then I’ll join you and then we’ll see how good you are!’ Before he had time to add another word, Quentin grabbed the key and started running with Martin and Theo towards the changing room. Surprised, Combert smile vaguely and called out to them, ‘And don’t forget to take off your gravity shoes! You have to learn to fly now!’ ‘Let’s see if you can lift your arms a little!’ Combert said, trying hard not to laugh at the sight of Quentin in a uniform that was clearly much too big for him.

Seeing that he was somehow managing to raise his arms above his head, he said, ‘OK! You’ll be able to a few about-turns in that. If you’re good, I’ll arrange for you to have something closer to your size. Now come on! Follow me and don’t forget you don’t have your shoes on any more! Remember, gently does it. Just small steps to start with. I don’t want you breaking your skull at the first session!’ Entering the arena, the coach noticed the astounded expressions on the boys’ faces. ‘Impressive, eh?’ he said. ‘It’s… it’s huge!’ Quentin replied. ‘Mega gigantic!’ Martin added. ‘Sit down and cross your legs,’ Combert ordered, ‘and I’ll explain the basics of the game. Let’s start with the arena! As you can see, it’s cylindrical in shape, 45 feet in diameter and 160 feet long. In the middle of each of the two sides, there’s a hole. That’s the goal. In order to score a goal, you have to get this small foam rubber rocket called a missile into the hole. The steel bars along the arena are fixed to the wall and slope down to the middle. They’re arranged four by four, in the shape of a cross, like the spokes of a bicycle wheel. In all, along the length of the cylinder, there are eight wheels of four bars each, spaced sixteen feet apart. They help to give the game more speed. You can hold

them in order to give yourself a push or else catch one as you go past and change direction. But be careful! If you don’t look where you’re going, they can also be an unexpected obstacle, and that’s very painful, if you see what I mean… The moral is: always look where you going… ‘Now the players. There are two teams of six players each. Each team classically consists of two strikers, two midfielders and two defenders, but the coach can choose any kind of tactical variation. Obviously, in order to win, you have to score more goals than your opponents, but be careful! Unlike some people, I don’t regard spacehand as a collective boxing match. I’m a stickler when it comes to that kind of thing, and I won’t hesitate to throw out the best player in my team if he tries anything like that. To me, it’s a game that requires collective strategy and tactical intelligence to get to the opposing team’s goal. Anyway, the rules are perfectly clear, and a foul can lead to a penalty or disciplinary action. If you’re a defender and a penalty is awarded against you for committing a foul on a striker from the opposing team, your team’s goal is widened for a varying period. If on the other hand a striker commits a foul on a defender, the hole is reduced. As in hockey, in the case of a more

serious foul the culprit can be sent off for between two and fifteen minutes. In a match consisting of three rounds of fifteen minutes each, that’s quite a lot. So much for the basics! But that’s enough talk, now let’s see if you can manage a few somersaults and aim accurately fifteen or thirty feet from the hole.’

Chapter 8 Honeycombed Plastium The next day, Monday December 2nd 2047, had been declared by the authorities a day for activities to resume even though not all the colonists were on board yet. The reason given was that it would allow for the resources of the ships to be properly tested before the numbers were up to strength. In addition, the weather on Kourou had deteriorated after a small hurricane, and the final European colonists would not now be leaving until the following Thursday. Among the Deroses, only Thierry was pleased about that. It would give him more time to transfer his files and plan his research before the arrival of his new colleague, Eric Leconte, a specialist in building spaceships. The others, though, were all very excited. As Laure was serving her mother a second cup of coffee – her mother having woken up first at about six o’clock – she called anxiously to her husband, ‘Thierry, can you go and tell Quentin to stop playing with Theo and get his bag ready for school, or he’ll end up making us all late and Mummy won’t have time to take him to his class!’ ‘OK! I’m going!’ Thierry replied calmly, finishing his shave. Before he had time to press the button to open the door, the door slid open and Quentin, who had heard what his mother had said, appeared in the doorway with Theo. ‘It’s all right, Mum, I’m ready! You know I don’t need to

get my bag ready any more because everything’s in this now!’ He pointed to the tablet computer supplied by the Federation to each pupil. ‘That’s as may be,’ Laure replied. ‘But your computer isn’t going to clean your teeth or comb your hair! Come on, put Theo away and get yourself tidied up!’ ‘OK, Mum!’ Quentin replied, with an air of constraint, raising his eyes heavenward for Elvire’s benefit while his mother had her back turned. ‘Go on, listen to your mother!’ Elvire said to him in an amused tone, and smiled. ‘You surely wouldn’t want to make me late for my first day as a Martian schoolteacher!’ ‘Oh yes, that’s true, grandma!’ Quentin said, and kissed her. ‘I forgot you were going back to school too! All right, I won’t be long!’ Less than fifteen minutes later – on a ship you are never very far from the place you have to get to – Quentin was sitting in the front row of his seventh grade class. He was waiting, with a dozen other pupils, for his main teacher to arrive. Suddenly, the door slid open, and a beautiful young blonde woman with blue eyes appeared and came towards them. ‘Good morning everybody!’ she said in a very soft voice. ‘I’m Miss Natalie Walter, your main teacher. I’ll also be teaching you pure science. Are you all well?’ ‘Yes, miss! Good morning, miss!’ the pupils replied in unison, standing to greet her. ‘Good!

Now sit down while I put my things away and switch on your tablets.’ Once she was sitting at her desk, she resumed. ‘All right, now, for today, as we’re not all here yet, I’ll spare you your first class. In fact, we won’t really get back to the curriculum until Friday or next Monday instead of Wednesday, as the arrival of the other colonists has been postponed for two days. All the same, there will be a general test this Wednesday in order to get an overall idea of what you have already learned since the start of the year. So try to revise your lessons a little before then, all right?’ The teacher then gave them details of how each subject had been modified. In geography, for example, some details of the Earth’s planisphere had been dropped in favour of a wider knowledge of the solar system in general and the Martian regions in particular. ‘Listen Captain,’ Thierry said, somewhat angrily, into his office videophone to the person in charge of the computer network, ‘I’ve tried three times now to transfer my files into your system and nothing works! It just won’t take them! Your socalled forced transfer procedure doesn’t help at all! I find it quite incredible that you can’t tell me what to do. I’d appreciate it if you at least took the trouble to be a little more interested in my case and came to see me yourself or sent someone, otherwise I’ll

be forced to speak to your superior!’ ‘I’m sorry, major!’ replied the officer. ‘In fact, we now know what’s happening. It’s all because of a breakdown in the relay server for the network in your area. We’re doing our best to repair it… Everything should be up and running in about twenty minutes. If you can wait that long, I promise I’ll come and see you myself and help you as soon as the server is working again.’ ‘All right, I’m waiting!’ Thierry said curtly, and cut the contact. Leaning back in his chair to concentrate, he thought about the situation. Even if the ship’s system worked, he still wouldn’t be safe from another breakdown and might run the risk of losing a lot of the work he would be doing on board, without the security of the multiple backup system he had at his disposal at Nav-Tech. ‘What an organization!’ he thought about the authorities who had not even provided him with a laptop on which to make emergency copies. Suddenly, a bright idea came into his mind, and he sat up, clicked his fingers and cried out loud, ‘But of course! Quentin! Why didn’t I think of it before?’ Pleased with his solution, he went back to studying his file on the wall screen, which was showing the method of building the first life size electromagnetic engine. ‘So how are my babies?’ Laure called from the entrance

of the greenhouse, her hands deep in the pockets of her white coat. Busy transplanting seedlings, Anne-Marie turned abruptly. ‘Oh, it’s you!’ she said in surprise, and smiled. ‘I should have guessed you’d lose no time in coming to see us! Well, things seem to be going very well. Look!’ she said, pointing to the hotbeds. ‘The journey doesn’t seem to have affected them at all. On the contrary, I get the impression they’re even more vigorous than those we transplanted on Earth. Surprising, isn’t it?’ ‘No,’ Laure replied. ‘In fact, what you’re saying confirms what I’d hoped: that some of these plants are undergoing a genetic evolution. And that’s all thanks to you!’ ‘Me?’ Anne-Marie said, surprised. ‘Yes, you remember how proud you were when you showed me that magnificent tree in your garden, the one you’d planted when you first arrived on the farm?’ ‘You mean my Ginko Biloba? Yes, I remember and I’m sorry I had to leave it behind! But what’s the connection with your seaweed?’ ‘Well, although I was supposed to be an expert on the subject, I was amazed by that tree. I particularly remember what you told me about it being the only living organism to have survived without help after the first atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. So I asked you to give me a shoot to study in the lab. These now are the results. The fact is, I managed to isolate the

gene that gives it its incredible resistance and graft it onto some new seaweed seedlings a few days before we left. I thought that transferring that particular quality would improve their ability to grow in a hostile environment like Mars. Their resistance to travelling would also be increased… Clearly, it seems to be working, thanks to you…’ ‘I didn’t expect that!’ Anne-Marie replied, incredulously. ‘But you deserve all the credit. All I did was give you the idea. You did all the work!’ ‘No, Anne-Marie! I don’t agree. All I did was a simple technical job. Any lab assistant could have had the same idea. You have to have a starting point for any research, I mean an original idea… and it’s you who gave it to me! But we still have to wait a few more days to see if the faster growth and the resistance are confirmed. Then we’ll test their qualities in comparison with the original seedlings: make sure they’re not toxic to humans, see how easy it is to reproduce strains that have been modified after several generations, and finally check their nutritional and culinary qualities. Provided all that’s fine, you shouldn’t have any objection to applying for a joint patent so that we can grow them once we get to Mars. What do you think?’ ‘That would be really great, Laure! But you’re forgetting that, according to our contracts, any discoveries made during the mission revert by law to the whole community. We can’t apply

for an individual patent!’ ‘That’s where you’re wrong, my dear!’ Laure replied, conspiratorially. ‘I applied for a patent for this seaweed before we left. So it’s perfectly possible to apply for a new variation on the original patent! It may be that when we get back to Earth, your farm will be much more profitable than it is now!’ ‘Brilliant!’ Anne-Marie cried. ‘Provided it works!’ ‘Mega fantastic!’ Quentin, red-faced and sweaty, cried to his mother when he got back from school. ‘Hello, darling! How was your first day?’ ‘Brilliant, mum!’ Quentin replied, panting. ‘The teachers are great! In practical tech, we’re going to make a remote control that’ll open all the doors on the ship…’ ‘All of them?’ ‘Well… at least the ones we’re allowed to! And guess who we have for sport?’ ‘That’s easy! I suppose it’s that Mr Combert…’ Laure replied. ‘Yes! And you know what he said to me?’ ‘No, what?’ Laure said, pretending to be intrigued. ‘Well, he said the spacehand thing was OK and he was taking me and Martin on for a trial!’ ‘Great!’ Laure said, feigning surprise. ‘Oh, mum!’ Quentin said, reproachfully. ‘You’re making fun of me!’ ‘Yes!’ Laure said, laughing. ‘But most of all I can see you’re sweating! So go and take a shower, you can tell us all about it later… By the way, where’s your grandma?’ Before he had time to answer her, Elvire appeared at the door. ‘Here I am!’ she said, looking exhausted. ‘Oh Lord! I’d

forgotten how tiring first-year children could be! I’m all in!’ She sat down on the first chair within reach. ‘All in, but happier than you could ever imagine, my dear! I’ll be back in the swing in a few days!’ she added, as if to reassure her. ‘Oh, Quentin!’ Thierry cut in. ‘I’m borrowing your computer. I’d like to check something. Is that all right?’ ‘Yes, of course, dad!’ Quentin replied. ‘But I assure you I haven’t put any games on it! ‘That’s not what I want to check! I’d just like to see how much storage capacity it has. While I’m waiting for them to supply me with one, I’d like to use it once a week to store a few copies of less important files. Do you mind?’ ‘No, of course not, Dad! As long as I have enough space for my classes!’ Quentin joked. ‘Don’t worry. I only need 10 or 20 teraoctets!’ ‘Oh, there’s no problem, then! The disc can carry at least 500 teras!’ ‘Great!’ Thierry said. ‘So there won’t be any problem. Thanks, Quen!’ ‘That’s all right, Dad!’ Quentin said, and disappeared into the shower.

Chapter 9 A New Recruit At nine o’clock the following Thursday evening, the Deroses and the Guilberts were waiting outside La Parmigiana, an Italian restaurant, where they were going to have dinner together. They had learned from the evening news on TV that the rest of the colonists had arrived without mishap during the day, and the first consequence was that they had to queue to get into the restaurant. ‘I didn’t watch the news right to the end,’ Thierry said to Jean-Luc as they waited. ‘Did they say when we’re leaving?’ ‘Yes, they said it was still scheduled for Saturday morning, as originally planned. That means the two days’ delay in the arrival of the other colonists won’t affect the departure. They prefer us to set off at the weekend so that the largest number of people are in their apartments in case anything happens, and if we didn’t do it this weekend, we’d have to wait until next weekend and lose a week.’ ‘Logical!’ Thierry replied, knowingly. Looking towards the front of the queue to see if they still had long to wait, he recognized, a few yards ahead of them, his new colleague from Nav-Tech, Eric Leconte. ‘Hey, Mr Leconte!’ he cried. The man turned when he heard his name being called, recognized Thierry immediately, smiled, and signalled that he was coming to him. ‘Hello, Mr Leconte!’ Thierry said when he had joined them. ‘So how was your journey? Good, to judge by that happy look on your face!’

‘Absolutely, Mr Derose! Good evening. I’m really pleased to see you again!’ They shook hands. ‘Let me introduce my little family and our friends,’ Thierry said. ‘This is my wife Laure, her mother Elvire, my son Quentin, his friend Martin Guilbert and Martin’s parents, Jean- Luc and Anne-Marie.’ ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Derose,’ Leconte said, before greeting in turn each of the people Thierry introduced. ‘Well, I see you’re here in force, Mr Derose,’ he joked. ‘You’re lucky to have your family and friends with you on this mission. Being a bachelor, I don’t have that advantage!’ ‘I think there are quite a few other people in the same situation,’ Laure said, smiling, ‘including quite a few young women who should give you plenty of opportunities to fill the gap!’ ‘Absolutely!’ Leconte agreed, smiling. ‘That’s not why I came here, but I’ve certainly nothing against combining business with pleasure.’ ‘Anyway, you won’t be forsaken this evening, Mr Leconte!’ Thierry said. ‘You will have dinner with us, won’t you?’ ‘Thank you, Mr Derose,’ he replied, delighted. ‘If it’s no trouble for you, I’d be glad to accept.’ During the dinner, Elvire was pleased when General Demazières came to say hello to her. ‘How are you, my dear Elvire?’ he asked. ‘Very well, Pierre, and you? I heard on the news that the last of the colonist have arrived safely.’ ‘Yes indeed, everything went well, luckily for them!’ the general replied, smiling. ‘And how are your new pupils? Not too

much of a handful, I hope?’ ‘They’re only five or six. They’re quite active, that’s normal, but they’re absolutely delightful. I’m very happy with them! By the way, my grandson, Quentin, celebrated his birthday the night we arrived, and I gave him a beautiful chessboard as a present. Ever since, he’s been dreaming of playing against a great player like you! Do you think you’ll have time one day to play a game with him?’ ‘I’d be delighted! He’s a really nice boy. As it happens, I was planning to invite you to dinner one of these evenings. If, for example, you agree to Saturday of next week, I could come to your apartment a little earlier – late afternoon, say – and play a game or two with him. What do you think?’ ‘I think you’re a very shrewd man and you’re making sure of my answer by combining your invitation with my own request. Are you so afraid of failure, general?’ ‘Ah! You found me out!’ the general said, hitting his chest with one hand as if he had received a blow. Then, serious again, he said, with a wink, ‘But I’m still waiting for your answer.’ ‘Don’t worry, my dear Pierre,’ she said. ‘I’d be delighted to accept your invitation. I would have accepted it even without asking anything in return,’ she added with a conspiratorial air. Radiant with joy, the general leaned down and kissed her hand.

‘Thank you, Elvire, my dear, you’ve made me the happiest of men! Saturday at six o’clock then… Is that all right with you?’ ‘Absolutely, Pierre! Goodbye …’ Meanwhile, Thierry had not been able, despite what Laure had said, to resist getting into a conversation with Leconte about their work at Nav-Tech. ‘So you really think we could use this material derived from plastium to make a fuselage that would resist a speed close to that of light?’ ‘Absolutely!’ Leconte said. ‘In fact, it’s the same material but stretched into sheets then embossed like the honeycombs in a beehive. Then you put several sheets together and you get something very light but also very resistant.’ ‘Mmm! But now the problem is that we almost certainly haven’t brought sufficient raw material – which was originally intended for the binding of the engine – to make enough sheets when we arrive!’ ‘Think again, Mr Derose. I talked to Mr Stonehedge about it before I left and he told me he was doing what he could to send us some on a supply shuttle, “even if I have to catch you up in mid-journey,” he said. In fact, he’d like you to call him about it tomorrow morning.’ ‘Fantastic!’ Thierry exclaimed. ‘It would be great if we could modify one of the shuttles on board and test it before we even get to Mars. We’ll call him together at nine o’clock…’ ‘It’s a pity we still have to wait a whole week,’ Quentin

said to his grandmother on the way to school. ‘Couldn’t he come tomorrow evening?’ ‘No, darling!’ replied Elvire. We’re leaving tomorrow and he’ll be very busy... Go on, now, go and join your new classmates. They must all be there by now. I’ll leave you here. You know the way better than I do.’ As he kissed her, Quentin made a glum face. ‘But now there’ll be more of us in the class! It’s sure to be less cool than it was… Bye, Grandma, have a nice day, I’ll see you tonight!’ ‘See you tonight!’ Elvire replied. ‘But, please, don’t use it as an excuse to play the fool, all right?’ ‘All right, grandma!’ Quentin said, a little disappointed by her remark. When he entered the classroom, the number of pupils he saw confirmed his fears. From now on, the atmosphere in class would be less calm than he had become accustomed to. Suddenly, his attention was drawn by one of the new pupils. Although he had his back to him, he recognized him immediately. ‘Thibault! What are you doing here?’ The newcomer turned. ‘Quentin!’ Thibault cried. ‘But… what about you?’ He came towards him, his arms wide open. ‘Mega cool!’ Quentin said, shaking his hand. ‘It’s great to see you again… Did you arrive yesterday?’ ‘Yes, I was on the last shuttle with my parents and my sister… You don’t know her, she’s in eighth grade.’ ‘Fantastic! Maybe she’s in the same class as Martin. He’s here too!’

‘Oh, great!’ Thibault grimaced. ‘I’m not sure he’ll be as glad to see me as you are.’ ‘Of course he will!’ Quentin reassured him. ‘We’re friends now, aren’t we? You’ll see, he’ll be just as happy as I am to see someone he knows…’ Quentin was about to ask him how his journey from Kourou had gone, but they were interrupted by the arrival of Mr Floyd, the man who was teaching them the new universal language: Comal. A tall bearded man, built like a lumberjack, his mere presence compelled respect and silence from his pupils. Quentin signalled to Thibault that they would talk again about all these things during recess and tiptoed back to his desk in the front row. In the small conference room next to Thierry’s office, Thierry and Eric were waiting to establish contact with Earth. The videophone carrying the Federation logo suddenly started crackling and flickering, until at last Stonehedge’s face appeared in close up. ‘Good morning, gentlemen!’ the Chairman of Nav-Tech said on seeing them. ‘I’m pleased to see you’re both safely on board. How are you, Thierry? I was very keen to see you again…’ ‘I’m fine, sir, in fact I’m really well. We’ve been really well treated since we got here. And how are you, sir? And Brigitte, your invaluable assistant, is she there?’ ‘I’m here!’ said a female voice, from beside Stonehedge. ‘Thank you for thinking of me. Everything’s fine here!’ ‘All right!’ Stonehedge said. ‘Let’s get straight to the point!

As you can imagine, a call like this isn’t charged at the normal rate! I suppose Mr Leconte has put you in the picture about the delivery of stretched plastium. ‘Yes, I have!’ Leconte said. ‘Hello, sir.’ ‘I am in the picture, yes, sir,’ Thierry said. ‘Good!’ Stonehedge said. ‘Now this is what we’ve planned. Firstly, I’ve had your departure postponed until Saturday afternoon instead of the morning. The shuttle couldn’t get there today, and I didn’t want to take any risks transferring the stuff in the middle of space. The military weren’t very pleased but they’re sufficiently interested in our research to agree in the end to shifting their departure time. Secondly, you’ll be getting three times as much plastium as you need. You never know, once you’ve left, it’ll be too late… I’ve also added some computer equipment so that you have your own backup tools. It may be useful, don’t you think, Thierry?’ ‘It certainly would, sir!’ Thierry replied, thinking how incredible it was that Stonehedge already knew about the network problem. ‘Thirdly,’ Stonehedge continued, ‘you’ll no doubt be pleased to learn that there’s a new volunteer who, unfortunately for me, has decided to take part in your mission. As I agreed with this person’s motives, I decided to support their last-minute application. Can you guess who it is? Don’t worry, Thierry, it’s not Marchand,’ Stonehedge said, with an ironic smile. ‘So, you really don’t know who it is?’ he asked again after a few moments’ silence.

‘No… you don’t mean Bri – ?’ ‘Yes, you win, Thierry!’ Stonehedge cut in. ‘Brigitte has finally decided to join you among the stars! I’m upset to lose such an invaluable assistant for such a long time, but I agree with her that, from the point of view of our project, she’ll be more useful to you up there than to me here. But don’t forget, she’s on loan! If you damage her, you’ll have me to answer to!’ he said, half-comically, half-seriously. ‘That’s… that’s wonderful news, sir! Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her!’ Thierry assured him, both surprised and delighted to be gaining as professional and pleasant a colleague as Brigitte. ‘Good! I’ll leave you now, I have work to do. So long!’ Stonehedge said, and cut the contact. ‘I find Mr Stonehedge’s desire to do everything he can to give us the best possible conditions very encouraging,’ Leconte said. ‘I haven’t yet had the opportunity to work with Brigitte, but you seem to think she’s good and that’s fine for me. And anyway, she seems very nice!’ ‘And single, Eric!’ Thierry said, laughing at the sight of Leconte turning as red as a beetroot. He patted him on the shoulder. ‘Come on, now! We’ve got work to do!’ Everything went as planned. The next morning, Thierry received a message from General Demazières informing him that the shuttle sent by Nav-Tech had arrived and the material had been safely transferred on board the cylinder. He and Eric

Leconte were asked to welcome Brigitte on the gangway giving access to the ship. Their reunion was brief but warm. After making sure that she had had a good journey, Thierry asked for a message to be sent to Stonehedge. Then he asked Leconte to take Brigitte to her apartment so that she could have something to eat and rest a little, and said goodbye, explaining to Brigitte that he had promised his son he’d watch his first spacehand training match.

Chapter 10 Interrupted Training Sitting comfortably in the VIP box, Thierry was impressed to see how much progress Quentin and Martin had made in just a few days. The boys’ movements flowed, and they seemed to have adapted to weightlessness with an ease that was disconcerting. Clearly pleased, their coach Michel Combert had given them two older players as teammates for a mini training match. Although trailing 12 to 4, they acquitted themselves well, gradually managing to dominate in a few tackles, thanks to their greater speed in changing direction at the bars. At the end of the second round, Quentin and Martin, both red as beetroots, approached the glass wall of the stands to wipe themselves and drink some cold water before the final fifteenminute round. Very pleased with their latest performance, they smiled when they saw the score: 16 to 11. They were starting to turn the tables. Looking towards where his father was sitting, Quentin burst out laughing at seeing him gesticulating encouragingly, his arms raised in a V and his thumbs up. Also looking at him as he drank, Martin almost choked. After clearing his throat two or three times, he too started making hand signals like Quentin. ‘He’s really great, your Dad!’ he said to his friend. ‘I wish mine would come to see us. I’m a bit disappointed that he isn’t here!’ He sighed. ‘Don’t be upset with him!’ Quentin replied. ‘Looking after plants isn’t like office work. Even on weekends and

holidays, they keep growing and someone has to take care of them! Don’t worry! When my Dad tells him how good we are, I wouldn’t be surprised to see him here next week. You’ll see!’ ‘Mmm… You may be right!’ Martin replied. ‘I’m sure of it!’ Quentin said, putting his helmet back on. ‘Come on, let’s give them a hiding!’ ‘Yeah!’ Martin said, having cheered up, and patted him on the hand. Tied up near the opposing team’s goal, with a piece of string round his neck, Theo was yapping and leaping excitedly at the imminent resumption of the match. He was really interested in the game and would have liked to take part and help his master to catch up and win. After analyzing the players’ moves during the first two rounds, he had worked out several winning strategies. He moaned at the fact that he was immobilized by this damned string without being able to convey these strategies to Quentin, who did not even seem to hear his moans or notice his desperate signals. Reluctantly resigning himself to waiting until the end of the match, he sighed and lay down with his back to the arena to show how disappointed he was. After barely a minute, though, hearing cries of joy, he could not resist glancing behind him: Quentin’s opponents had just scored two more goals in quick succession. At first he gave a slight moan, out of distress for his master. Then he assumed a

half-ironic, half-arrogant expression, as if to say that after all it served them right: all they had to do was pay him a little more attention! He lay back down, determined to ignore them again. But in vain. Theo had indeed tried at first to plug his ears by putting his front paws over them, but he turned abruptly when he heard a missile dispatched by Quentin hit the wall, just missing the goal. He started barking again furiously to encourage his friends. Suddenly, another missile flew at top speed out of Quentin’s hands towards the opposing team’s goal. In a fraction of a second, Theo visualized the point where it would land and realized that it was going to miss the goal again but only by an inch or two. Rejecting this new failure, which would seriously jeopardize his team’s chances, he leaped forward with unprecedented force, breaking the leash clean through, to correct the missile’s trajectory. Turning as it passed, he kicked it with his hind paw. Seeing that his shot had succeeded, he turned proudly as Quentin caught a bar in order to throw himself at top speed straight at him. Seeing the aghast look on his master’s face, he just had time to turn back to the wall. He hit it head on and howled with fright. There was a terrible noise of crashing metal as Theo broke into several pieces. Quentin, who had not been able to react fast enough, watched helplessly, then knocked

his own head violently against a bar. He immediately lost consciousness and Combert, who had seen everything, got to him just in time to stop him from bouncing off the wall. When Quentin woke up, the first thing he felt was a splitting headache. He opened his eyes, and his blood froze: he thought for a moment that he had gone blind. All he could see was a white screen, on which a few ghostly shadows were moving, emitting incomprehensible sounds which echoed to infinity. Then, gradually, he felt relieved: the colours came back, and his vision grew clearer. Among the sounds around him, he recognized his mother’s voice, calling him by name. ‘Quentin? Quentin? Don’t worry, dear, everything’s fine. Can you hear me?’ Then, turning to the doctor who was coming up behind her, Laure cried, ‘Quickly, doctor, he’s coming to!’ He felt his head being moved gently from side to side. Then his eyelids were opened and he could not help turning his head away in a reflex action as a bright light was shone into his right eye. ‘Good! He’s starting to react…’ he heard, quite distinctly this time, and realized that it was the doctor talking about him. ‘Another minute or two, and he’ll have recovered his senses, though his head will hurt until the bruise has healed. Nothing serious…’ ‘Nothing serious, nothing serious,’ Quentin thought, ‘he’s not the one who’s hurt!’ Gradually becoming aware that he was lying on a hospital

bed, he tried to recall the events that had brought him here. Suddenly, he had a flash of memory, as if reliving the last moment before he had fainted. ‘Theo!’ he cried. ‘My dog Theo!’ Immediately, he felt hands grip him firmly by the shoulders to put him back in a horizontal position – he had not even noticed that he had sat up in bed – then heard his mother’s gentle, reassuring voice: ‘Don’t worry, dear. It’s all right. Calm down! Theo is in good hands. The chief mechanic managed to save his data bank and is repairing him right now… Rest now, it’s late… Mummy will stay with you. You know you can trust me. By tomorrow morning, everything will be sorted. Now go to sleep!’ Reassured, Quentin relaxed. Without his knowing it, a nurse injected a sedative into him by ultrasound. He felt a pleasant warmth suffuse his body, then sank into a deep sleep. Four days later, early in the afternoon, Quentin was sitting at the little desk in his apartment. He was trying to learn the previous day’s lessons, which he had not attended because of his forced convalescence. He felt absolutely fine and could not understand why they were still keeping him in isolation. Fuming inwardly, he tried to motivate himself with the thought that he would finally go back to school the next day and see Martin and Thibault again. But his pleasure was immediately

clouded by the thought that he still had to wait until the beginning of the following week – provided the doctor did not discover any complications – for permission to resume his sporting activities. And, worst of all, he missed Theo. It was taking so long to repair Theo, they had told him, because some parts were hard to reproduce without the original plans. He took a break from his computer to go and drink a glass of water in the hope of dismissing his gloomy thoughts and concentrating on his work. At that moment, the doorbell rang. Quentin immediately thought it was his mother, coming to see if everything was all right. Automatically, he picked up the remote control from the table to display the view outside the apartment on the main screen before he opened. But to his great surprise, an unknown face appeared. A captain, according to the three gold bars on his collar. Staring at him, Quentin smiled to see a pudgy face, with very close-cropped bright red hair, and a superb Dalistyle moustache, which contrasted with his somewhat thick features. As soon as Quentin had opened the door, the man introduced himself: ‘Hello, I’m Captain Salvadorez,’ he said, in a strong Portuguese accent. ‘And you must be Quentin?’ ‘Yes, that’s me! Hello, captain,’ Quentin replied, trying hard not to laugh. ‘Ah, good!’ the captain said. ‘I have a really nice present for you!’ And he nodded down at the floor.

Looking in the same direction, Quentin saw nothing at first, then suddenly Theo’s head appeared on the end of a kind of spring, examining the inside of the apartment in search of a familiar face. Both happy and surprised, Quentin took a step back and cried in astonishment, ‘Theo?’ Immediately, the head turned to look at him. Recognizing his master, Theo assumed an expression bright with joy and started barking at him. It was a new expression that showed the happiness he must be feeling. The next moment, Quentin saw Theo’s body walk with short steps to join his head and the spring retract to form a normal neck. Once Theo had been successfully ‘assembled’, he jumped into Quentin’s arms and licked his face profusely. Still torn between joy and amazement, Quentin turned to the officer and managed to stammer between two licks, ‘But… But…’ ‘Er, yes, as you can see…’ Captain Salvadorez said, amused at Quentin’s stunned air. ‘We made a few improvements! I even think his tongue is better!’ Quentin could still not grasp what was happening. As if to prove the captain’s words, Theo leapt out of Quentin’s arms and before Quentin had time to catch him and stop him from falling heavily to the floor, more springs appeared at the ends of his paws which cushioned the impact and allowed to land gently on the table. ‘You see,’ Salvadorez said, ‘he understood what we were

saying and he wants to show you that he’s not likely to hurt himself at spacehand again…’ ‘Cool!’ Quentin said, impressed. ‘Thanks a lot, captain! What you’ve done is fantastic! And… are there any other improvements?’ ‘Yes, a few…’ the officer replied mysteriously. ‘But I’m not authorized to tell you all of them… The main one is the central processor. It’s the latest model. It was the only one we had to replace the one that got destroyed. Which means that now he’s much more intelligent than before and his expressions are much more subtle… You’ll see when you use him… Anyway, I have to get back to work. Look, here’s my card with my number in case you have any problems… Goodbye and have fun!’ ‘Goodbye, captain!’ Quentin said. ‘And thanks again for everything you’ve done!’ Then he closed the door and turned happily to his androdog. ‘Good old Theo!’ Quentin cried, taking him lovingly in his arms. ‘If you only knew how afraid I was that I’d lost you… And now here you are, as good as new! But, tell me… You’ll have to show me how all these improvements work if you don’t want me to feel inside your data bank!’ At these words, Theo first opened wide his eyes and shook with terror, then assumed an imploring air as if to apologize for not being able to show his master anything more: strict instructions had been inserted deep in his program,

forbidding him from divulging any information, unless he or Quentin were in danger. Surprised by Theo’s various reactions, which made him seem much more expressive than before – ‘Really all he lacks is speech,’ Quentin thought – he started laughing, then patted him on the head. ‘Don’t worry, Theo! You know I’d never do anything to hurt you. Anyway, I wouldn’t be able to understand even one line of your new program. After all, if they don’t want to tell me more, they must have good reasons why not,’ Quentin said resignedly. Reassured, Theo smiled and nodded at his master in a dignified manner, as if to compliment him on the great wisdom he was demonstrating. ‘To prove that I don’t bear any grudge,’ Quentin told his friend, ‘let me tell you, in case they haven’t updated you on these things, that we both missed the departure of the cylinders and that since the exact same day as our accident, we’ve been floating towards Mars! You see, I’m quite happy to tell you everything. Not that we missed much. The acceleration was so slow and gradual that most people didn’t feel a thing. It’s Martin who told me… But let’s get to work! Quentin concluded, rubbing his hands. ‘At least my relief at seeing you again has made me want to do my homework!’

Chapter 11 Tactical Progress Six months had passed since the departure of the international station. The armada of five cylinders, accompanied by a few shuttles flying in front as if to open the route for them, was now almost half way between Earth and Mars. To celebrate, General Demazières had decided to organize, during the following weekend, a day of varied activities, culminating in a Creole party on the beach, to which everyone was invited. But the only thing that concerned Quentin was how prepared he was for the first official spacehand match scheduled for that same day. He and Martin had both been chosen for the European team. The match would be their first opportunity to play against the African team from the same cylinder. That first incident had been completely forgotten and the two friends had managed, through training and motivation, to raise themselves to the level of the best of their teammates, even though they were older. Their coach, Michel Combert, was counting on their speed and their tactical intelligence to compensate for their still relatively weak muscles. If they won, they would be very popular, since he had put them down to play in the second round of the match, which had had the result of increasing their motivation tenfold during the last few training sessions. The two boys were now able to cover the distance between the middle of the arena and the opposing team’s goal in less than five seconds.

Thierry Derose and Eric Leconte, meanwhile, had good reason to be very pleased with the progress of their work. In the greatest secrecy – only General Demazières, two of his assistants and one of the shuttle pilots were also in the picture – they had succeeded in modifying two shuttles, each with a capacity of fifteen people. After replacing their carbon frames with sheets of honeycombed plastium, they had installed Thierry’s legendary electromagnetic engine. It was more than a month now since they had carried out the first real trial of one of the two shuttles. Miraculously, it had done the remaining journey to Mars, and returned, in less than thirty minutes. Informed of the results, Philippe Stonehedge had ordered Thierry and Eric to use the two shuttles to send from the international station in orbit around Earth the materials they needed to construct an engine capable of replacing the main thrusters of their cylinder No 3. By the end of twenty round trips, they had received all the parts that were essential for assembling the machine. But the organizational problems were becoming very complicated: they were starting to run out of room, despite Brigitte’s ingenuity in solving a multitude of small worries – Eric had made sure to compliment her on all the help she had given them. Meanwhile, after several fruitless attempts, Laure had finally managed to perfect the genetic code of her plants in order to give them greater resistance without altering their quality as food.

Having presented a file to the patents office in her name and that of Anne-Marie, she had helped Jean-Luc to send to Earth the instructions needed to modify the cultivation of the plants on their farm. The new strain had been an immediate success with consumers on Earth. Her former boss, though, had reacted by taking legal action against her. He claimed that the difference in the genetic code was too small in relation to the original version and that therefore he should keep his legitimate exploitation rights, and he demanded that Laure pass on any information about the cultivation of the new strains. She refused to change her position, despite the advice of her lawyers who had tried to persuade her to accept a negotiated settlement. The first court hearing would take place in three days, and however unfair it might seem, the judge might well find in favour of her former boss. Her lawyers had in fact warned Laure a few days earlier that the judge who was dealing with the case did not necessarily think highly of the Mars Survivor programme. He had expressed himself on the subject in the media: in his opinion, the budget devoted to the mission could have been used to reduce the environmental dangers caused by mankind. In other words, victory was far from certain and Laure was starting to regret not having followed her lawyers’ advice. In the best case scenario, she would share the profits with her former boss.

In the worst case scenario, she would have to go through a lengthy legal procedure before she was able to prove scientifically that she was in the right, which deep down she was sure she could do. June 6th 2048. The great day of the first official match against the Africans had finally arrived. On the packed terraces on either side of the arena, the atmosphere was electric. Although fewer in number, the African supporters made up for it in noise, singing warlike chants the translation of which it was probably better not to know. Two lines of players gathered in the corridor leading to the arena. When he and Martin joined his teammates, Quentin could feel the half amused, half ironic looks of their opponents on him. Some of them could barely contain their laughter, which made him blush. He looked up and was alarmed to see the impressive height of the players on the opposing team. He became abruptly aware how absurdly small he was compared with such giants. For a moment, he thought of going back to the changing room and giving up the game before the kick-off. That way, he thought, he would at least avoid the bitter memory of a lost match. Just as he was about to turn on his heels, he felt the reassuring hand of his coach on his shoulder. Combert had joined him and seemed to understand what he was going through. ‘Don’t worry,’ the ex-hockey champion whispered. ‘I

know what you’re thinking right now. I’ve been through it all before… I saw these guys in training. I can assure you this is the first and last time they’ll impress you! Do you trust me, yes or no?’ ‘Y – yes, sir,’ Quentin managed to reply in a barely audible voice. ‘All right then, believe me! These big bags of muscle fly with all the elegance of elephants. Sure, it’s better to avoid colliding with them, but you won’t have any difficulty getting away from them. You’ll slip between their legs before they’ve even seen you coming. Plus, you’ll have the whole of the first round to study their tactics and see their faults. That’ll give you a chance to establish a lead with Martin, just like you did at the last training session… You can do it, Quentin! It’s up to you to prove I didn’t make a mistake in trusting you!’ He patted him on the shoulder again. ‘Come on, let’s go!’ Somewhat reassured, Quentin took his courage in both hands. He pretended to ignore the looks he got from his opponents and followed his teammates into the arena, to the hysterical cheers of the supporters. Then, not wishing to take part in the warm-up, he went to the substitutes’ bench in the glass cage, where Theo was waiting for him, securely tied to the foot of the bench. Seeing Theo’s mournful gaze, he untied him, took him in his arms and placed him on his knees.

‘Good old Theo,’ Quentin said. ‘I didn’t know they’d tied you up like that. I hope you haven’t been stuck here for too long. I’m freeing you, but promise me you won’t play the fool, or try to intervene whatever happens. Got that?’ Theo nodded in agreement then gave Quentin a big lick to thank him. Wiping his face with his sleeve, Quentin laughed nervously. ‘I hope I’ll still be alive at the end of the match to enjoy your marks of affection...’ Then, seeing the questioning, horrified look on Theo’s face, he added, ‘No, Theo, don’t worry! I’m only joking... at least, I think so! It is going to be a hard match, though! Did you see the team of giants we’re up against?’ Quentin asked, pointing anxiously towards the arena. Looking in the direction Quentin had indicated, Theo watched the players warming up for a few moments. Suddenly, he turned back to his master and barked twice as if he had a new idea to convey. Realizing this, Quentin whispered, ‘Theo, I can see that you’d like to tell me something but I don’t really see how I can understand you because unfortunately you can’t talk.’ No sooner had his master stopped speaking than Theo screwed up his eyes, clearly concentrating intensely. Then, calm again, he took the tablet computer out of Quentin’s bag with his mouth and placed it on the bench beside him. As his master

watched incredulously, a red diode flashed at the base of his neck, next to a tiny connection that Quentin had not noticed before. Theo’s mouth opened, and a few sounds came out: ‘Com.…pu…ter… con…ne…ction… Com.…pu…ter… con…ne… ction…’ ‘What?’ Quentin said, astounded. ‘You can talk? That’s… that’s incredible!’ ‘Com.…pu…ter… con…ne…ction… Com.…pu…ter… con…ne… ction…’ Theo continued. ‘Computer connection!’ Quentin said. ‘You want me to connect you to my computer screen, is that it?’ Theo nodded his head, pleased that he had at last been understood. Impressed with Theo’s new-found ability to communicate with him, Quentin quickly went to his bag, took out a cable, and connected one end to Theo and the other to his computer, which came on automatically. After a brief moment, while Theo turned to the arena to watch the warm-up, the screen lit up and showed a three-dimensional image of the area where the game would be played. Inside it, Quentin saw a lot of little moving points of light, red for the Africans, blue for Quentin’s teammates, representing the actual moves of the players. Almost immediately, green arrows shot out from the blue points and weaved between the reds. Quentin realized that these were various options for winning tactics, adjusted according to the movements of the red points. Realizing that he had, thanks to his androdog, a perfectly authorized and legal way of finding a solution to his problem, Quentin cried, ‘Theo, you’re amazing! This is mega fantastic! I never imagined these tricks in training!

I have to call Michel and show him!’ But he immediately thought better of it. ‘No, maybe not!’ he said to Theo. ‘You never know. If it doesn’t work, he may laugh at us! I prefer to tell him at the end of the match if we win.’ Suddenly a siren rang out to indicate the end of the warmup and that it was time for the players to take up their positions for the first round. Martin sat down next to Quentin. Seeing him working on his computer, he asked, ‘What are you doing, Quentin? This isn’t the time to play with that! Just concentrate on the match. Believe me, those guys aren’t going to be easy to beat!’ ‘That’s exactly what I’m working on!’ Quentin replied with a wink.

Chapter 12 The Spacehand Match As soon as the bell rang for the kick-off, the African team did indeed prove to be tough adversaries. Right from the opening minute of the game, their sheer muscle power put them in the lead over the European team. There were not many incursions by the blues into the red camp during the first round. In that time, Theo watched every moment of the game and recorded all the tactical moves of the opposing team. A minute before the end of the round, he was able to suggest to Quentin and Martin, through the computer screen, three types of winning tactics. He had noticed that both teams had a natural tendency to position themselves in the middle of the arena, where there were no bars. That gave a clear advantage to the Africans, who put paid to any attempted European incursion. Theo therefore suggested two ways to get through on the sides, between the bars, plus another one zigzagging down the middle from one end to the other, avoiding the defence lines. Impressed by Theo’s analysis, Quentin and Martin exchanged an amused, conspiratorial glance. They were pleased with the trick they were about to play on their opponents. In the course of their training, it had never in fact occurred to them to run along the sides of the walls, projecting themselves from one bar to the next. That was a completely new strategy that even Michel Combert hadn’t thought of. When the electronic gong

sounded to mark the end of the first round, the Africans were leading 14 to 4. But that did not bother Quentin and Martin too much. They were sure that they would soon catch up. Indeed, the second round mostly went the blues’ way. Turning between the bars at top speed, the two friends turned the situation around in less than ten minutes, much to the satisfaction of their supporters, who encouraged their team with a booming ‘Olé!’ every time they got through the enemy lines. By the end of the regulation fifteen minutes, the Europeans were leading 18 to 16. Busy receiving the congratulations of Combert and their team mates as they wiped themselves down and drank energy drinks, Quentin and Martin did not notice that Theo was trying to attract their attention. He had analyzed the gestures of the opposing team’s coach from a distance and realized that he had decided on a major change of tactics for the third and last round. There would now be four players in defence and the line of strikers would be strengthened by two brand new giants, chosen from among the substitutes. It was therefore going to be very difficult to get through on the sides at the level of the defence line. Unfortunately, Theo had, once again, not been heard. He watched apprehensively as Quentin and Martin went back into the arena to begin the last round. Luckily, the reds had not yet assimilated their new

positions very well, and Quentin managed to score three more goals by going along the sides, narrowly escaping the strengthened defence line. But then things took a turn for the worse: five times, either Quentin or Martin was pinned roughly to the wall and the missile, which he was keeping fixed to his leg in order to keep his arms free, was grabbed from him. The Africans had recovered their spirit, and three minutes from the end of the match they equalized: the score was now 21 to 21! With things looking so bad for the Europeans, Michel Combert decided to change his strategy: he moved the two midfielders back into defence in order to have a very close double defence line, leaving Quentin and Martin alone in midfield and the forward line. The tactic paid off. Even though it could not really stop the two massive strikers, it at least prevented them from aiming accurately and they missed their target four times. Seeing that it was no longer possible to get through on the sides, Quentin decided to zigzag down the middle, as Theo had shown him. Seeing him dash forward on his own down the middle of the arena, Theo understood what his master was trying to do. He immediately hid his eyes with his paws: he already knew that, given that the reds had four men in defence, Quentin had no chance of reaching the goal. Suddenly, hearing a

loud crash and the horrified cries of most of the supporters, he looked up. What he saw terrified him. Quentin was wrapped around a bar, having just been shoved violently by two reds. Half unconscious, he was groping to keep hold of the bar as if he had lost his sight. Ignoring the referee’s whistles, Martin had to rush to his rescue. The two bags of muscle freed Quentin from their grip, pleased with themselves now that there was only one ablebodied striker left on the European side. ‘Are you all right?’ Martin asked, reaching him. ‘I’m fine… I’m fine,’ Quentin stammered. ‘I don’t think it’s anything serious.’ Then, as he slowly stood up, while his supporters applauded encouragingly, he heard Martin cry, ‘But you have blood all over your face, Quentin! Come on, let’s take you to the infirmary…’ ‘No way!’ Quentin retorted. ‘I tell you I’m fine! Just a few little cuts on my face. It’d be stupid to give up now! I think I have an idea for one last chance if our defence can still hold out...’ ‘What do you mean?’ Martin asked. ‘We can’t get through on the sides any more,’ Quentin said, ‘they’ve realized how to block us... We’ll have to go down the middle...’ ‘But you just tried that, and look what happened! ‘Yes, I know... That’s because they know too soon who’s going to try and score. If we approach together with the missile

between us, they won’t know until it’s too late in which direction to go and we’ll be able to get through!’ ‘Yes! That’s not a bad idea at all! We’ll try it and at the last moment, I’ll score!’ ‘No, not you!’ Quentin replied. ‘When they see the two of us coming, as they think they’ve given me a good thrashing, they’ll suppose it’s you who’s going to try... That’s why it has to be me, it’s our only chance to win!’ ‘If I’ve got this right,’ Martin said, ‘this time, I’m the one who’ll be their punching bag! Really cool, Quentin!’ ‘No, not if you go straight in the opposite direction after we separate. They won’t have time to catch you, and in the meantime I’ll score!’ ‘OK, it makes sense… Let’s go or we’ll incur a penalty!’ When the whistle blew, the two friends rushed forward, straight down the middle of the arena. As they flew towards the four defenders, the Africans exchanged knowing looks and shook their heads. When they were no more than thirteen feet from the enemy camp, Quentin saw three of the enemies start off towards Martin. At that moment, he left his friend and kept going in a straight line towards the goal. In a fraction of a second, he realized that the fourth man, the very same one who had shoved him so violently, was going to stay right in the middle of his trajectory and intercept him. Reacting instinctively, Quentin

turned abruptly, with his feet stretched in front of him towards his opponent. Before the man had time to react, he kicked him full in the chest, sending him flying. Then Quentin did a somersault, straightened up and dispatched the missile into the goal in the final second of the match. Before he was even aware of what he had done, he heard a frenzy of cheers coming from the terraces. That was when he realized that it was over. He had just given his team the winning goal! At last letting his joy break out, he raised both his arms in a victory sign before being joined by his teammates who carried him in triumph all around the arena while the crowd continued to go wild with excitement. That evening, during the Creole party, Quentin and Martin were honoured by General Demazières. In a small ceremony, he awarded them the army’s medal of gallantry for the intelligence and courage they had shown during the match. Delighted with their new-found celebrity, they were showered with thanks and congratulations from hitherto unknown colonists for the sensational spectacle they had given them. Much to the pride, of course, of their parents. Going to bed much later than usual, Quentin recalled all the magic moments of a day he would never have imagined could be so lucky. At least from now on the other players would no longer make fun of him, would no longer call him ‘little Quen’

but quite simply Quentin – Quentin Derose!

Chapter 13 Lost in Space The following Saturday, Elvire decided to go with Quentin and Martin to their spacehand training. As a logical result of the previous week’s success, Theo had been made the team’s official mascot and tactician. As such, he intended to miss none of the training sessions. ‘Don’t run in the corridors and try to come back in one piece!’ Laure called to Quentin, who was in a hurry to leave the apartment. ‘I know, Mum, I know! Quentin replied, a little exasperated. ‘Stop worrying about me all the time! I’m a big boy now!’ ‘All right then, prove it to me!’ Laure replied as he walked away. Quentin’s only response was a little knowing gesture of the hand. Elvire signalled to her daughter from a distance to remind her that she was there to keep an eye on him. Everything would be all right. As the door of the apartment was closing, Thierry emerged from the bedroom, still in his pyjamas. ‘Darling, where’s Quentin?’ he asked Laure. ‘He just this moment left!’ she replied. ‘And did he take his computer?’ ‘Yes, I suppose he did. He and Theo use it for spacehand tactics...’ ‘Damn! I wanted to borrow it to back up my week’s work!’ But then, thinking that he had very little left to do, he said, ‘Oh, well, it’s not that important, I can do it later...’ ‘Are you still using Quentin’s computer for that? But I thought you’d got a new machine from Stonehedge.’

‘I did, but, you know, I’ve got used to it, and you can never be too careful...’ Changing the subject, he asked, ‘What are you planning to do this morning? Are you working? ‘Yes, I’m going to the lab. I’ve arranged to meet Jean- Luc and Anne-Marie there. We have to call the lawyers and come to an agreement with my old boss.’ ‘Oh! So things finally seem to be working out?’ ‘You could say that... The judge has decided to cut the cake three ways: one slice for my old lab, one for me, and one for Anne-Marie. So we’re not doing too badly out of it for the moment. What about you, what are you doing this morning?’ ‘I’m going to my office. I need to check a few things before they instal new thrusters on the cylinder.’ After half an hour of intensive training, Combert signalled to Quentin and Martin to join him on the substitutes’ bench in the bubble for a well-earned break. As they entered, Quentin and Martin smiled on seeing Lieutenant McGill, along with Thibault and his sister Marie, who had all come to see them. No sooner had Martin closed the door of the bubble after him than two violent explosions were suddenly heard from the front part of the ship. The terrible noise, almost indistinguishable from that of a clap of thunder, was immediately succeeded by the sensation that the cylinder was being thrown roughly off its

trajectory and was starting to turn in all directions. Like those who were with him, Quentin just had time to grab the back of a chair in a reflex action to avoid hitting the wall of the bubble. Three seconds after the impact, the lights turned red and an alarm sounded, meaning that the ship was to be evacuated. Frozen with terror, they watched, powerless to do anything, as a dreadful scene unfolded. Inside the arena, on the side opposite where they were, they saw a fissure appear in the wall and quickly increase in size until, suddenly, an entire panel, a good three feet across, was sucked out into the void. Immediately, all the players still present in the arena, who since the explosions had been clinging to the nearest bars within reach, were also sucked through the gap and cast out into the void of space, in which death was as certain as it was immediate. For a long time, Quentin and the other survivors remained motionless, petrified with horror. At last, Michel Combert, as manager of the arena, broke the heavy silence. ‘Is... is everyone all right?’ he stammered, trying to conceal his fear. ‘Do we have any chance of getting out alive?’ Elvire asked immediately by way of reply. ‘Right now, I don’t have any idea,’ Michel said, in a solemn voice. He looked around to check the condition of the bubble. ‘All I can tell you is that for the moment we’re safe in

this bubble. This area is meant to be used as a shelter in case of accident. It can resist a drop in pressure, just like the individual survival cells in our apartments.’ He pointed to the closed door of a cupboard. ‘Usually, there are enough survival rations and reserves of oxygen for about twenty people for about ten days. But the problem is that we can’t leave here because, apart from the door into the arena, there’s no emergency exit...’ ‘Surely,’ McGill ventured, ‘there ought to be an emergency means of communication. Don’t you know where it is?’ ‘You’re right, Henry! Yes, there’s a mobile phone which works on an emergency frequency to contact the bridge. Look behind you, there, in the little compartment on your right...’ McGill rushed to the compartment and grabbed the phone. After several fruitless attempts, he said, ‘Sorry, no answer. Either the network has been affected by the explosion, or everyone’s gone. I think it’s better to switch it off and save the battery. We’ll try again every ten minutes. We have to wait for them to organize a rescue...’ Forced, like the others, to kick his heels, Quentin went and sat down next to Elvire, picked up Theo and hugged him. Not too perturbed by the situation, Theo tried to reassure his master by giving him lots of affectionate licks. Wondering what would happen to them, Quentin responded by stroking him and whispering, ‘Good old Theo, we’re off to a bad start before

we’ve even arrived! I hope Mum and Dad have come through at least as well as us.’ A tear ran down his cheek. Wiping it with the back of his hand, he continued, as if talking to himself, ‘If only we knew what had happened. But first we have to get out of here...’ Reacting to Quentin’s last sentence, Theo rose abruptly and started moaning and flashing the red diode on his neck as he had during the spacehand match. Without wasting any time, Quentin took his computer and the cable out of his bag and connected the cable to Theo. Theo looked toward the back of the bubble, where the wall of the arena appeared to be intact. Without saying anything, the others stood beside and behind Quentin as he switched on the computer. The screen lit up, showing a three-dimensional view of the corridor and the rooms adjoining the wall that Theo had his sights on. The area did not seem to have been affected by the explosions and did not appear, superficially at least, to have suffered any damage. To get a better look at the view displayed, Michel approached the screen, frowned, and said to Quentin, ‘Well, that’s already something. But how do we know if these compartments are still pressurized and if it’s possible to breathe in them?’ Immediately, the screen displayed a series of data in green: Pressurization of area: 1 bar - OK Presence of oxygen: 21 % - OK

Temperature: 19° C - OK End of report. Dumbfounded by Theo’s amazing abilities, they all looked at each other for a moment, first in surprise, then with renewed hope. Michel, more confident now, looked around him and said out loud, ‘Well, all we need to do now is find something to cut the wall and get through into the corridor!’ No sooner had he finished his sentence than Theo started barking at him, then at the others, as if asking them to stand aside. Ready to trust him, and thinking that he had not yet demonstrated everything he could do, they moved back to let him pass. Proud of having been obeyed so rapidly, Theo walked forward with a very concentrated look on his face and stopped less than three feet from the wall. Suddenly, two deep blue laser beams shot out of his eyes and started cutting out a circle in the wall of the bubble. As soon as it was complete, the circle of metal fell into the corridor, opening the way to the exit. No longer sure how to show their gratitude to Theo, who had become indispensable to them, the seven survivors applauded him warmly. Having succeeded, again thanks to Theo, in opening several security airlocks, they all finally reached the area connecting the two forward sections of the cylinder. The area had windows: at last they would be able to see outside the cylinder and try to understand what had happened. Instead of

reassuring them and giving them some clues about the reasons for the accident, what they saw merely increased their anxiety. There was nothing there! No shuttles around them, no other cylinder, not even the other two sections! Everything had disappeared! Left to their own devices, they were drifting alone in the cold of space towards an unknown destination. They were nevertheless able to note that the fourth section, the one situated at the rear of the ship, was still there, attached to theirs. McGill, encouraged a little, informed the others that, apart from the main thrusters and the fuel tanks, that last section also contained the communication facilities. The distress beacons had surely started working, continually emitting an emergency message towards Earth indicating their position. But they had no idea how long their damaged section would resist the pressure of empty space. It was therefore decided that Theo would regularly check the pressurization of the undamaged areas closest to the fissure and inform them of any leaks. At the same time, as the fourth section seemed intact, they also decided that McGill, Quentin, Martin and Theo would inspect it. Then, if the third section had to be abandoned because it was too damaged, it would still be possible to transfer as much food, water and oxygen as they could into the last section, thus giving themselves the best possible chance of survival.

Chapter 14 The Mini Black Hole Three days later, in the communal room they had fitted up on board the last section of the ship, the morale of the seven survivors was at a low ebb. The previous day, they had had to implement their survival plan and separate from the third section because Theo had pinpointed risks of fires and explosions due to the leaks of oxygen. The only good news in the past twenty-four hours was that McGill had managed to get one of the emergency systems working. They now knew their position: they were some thirty million miles from Earth and almost as far from Mars! Not that it made any difference since, despite all their efforts, they could not restart the thrusters and were still drifting in space. Sitting at a table in the corner, Quentin had been trying for more than an hour to open on his computer the files saved by his father. But try as he might, he could not find the password. Since the accident, he had thought constantly about his parents. With every hour that passed, the anguish of not knowing what had happened to them, if they were still alive or dead, became more and more unbearable. He had been having difficulty sleeping in the last two days and whenever he did succumb out of sheer exhaustion, he would have terrible nightmares from which he would wake with a start, bathed in sweat, shivering, his stomach knotted, his throat dry.

Despairing of ever finding the password, he switched off his computer. As Theo was busy recharging his batteries, he turned to Martin in the hope of starting up a comforting conversation with him. But Martin was dealing with Marie, who was having a crying fit, certain they would never get out alive. On the other side of the room, McGill and Combert were studying plans of engines on the videowall and trying to find a way of activating them on a command console they had discovered in another room. But even McGill, who was in the last year of his pilot’s training, could not understand all the diagrams that appeared on the screen. Scratching his head, he was starting to wonder if he had the skills he needed to ever decipher them. Next to them, Thibault was helping Elvire to make seaweed with grated cheese. They had salvaged a large supply from the greenhouse, which would make a change from the usual survival rations. Watching them work, Quentin could not help thinking of his mother: he remembered her making the same dish the last time the Guilberts were invited to their house on Earth. Lost in thought, he was again starting to succumb to fatigue when, imperceptibly at first, then more and more distinctly, he had the feeling that the ship was modifying its trajectory and moving in another direction. Abruptly opening his eyes, he called to the others, who did not seem worried, ‘Can’t... can’t you feel anything?

We’re moving!’ The members of the little team turned to Quentin and stopped what they were doing to see if they could feel any change in the ship’s position. After a few moments, McGill was the first to open his mouth. ‘You’re right, now I can feel it too! Let’s check it straight away!’ Immediately, he went to the main screen and tapped on the keyboard. Navigational information appeared in the form of a three-dimensional diagram. In the middle of the image was a red triangle representing the ship, surrounded by a kind of green grille representing space. In the top left-hand corner of the screen, the grille seemed to bend downwards in the shape of a cone, like the tip of a pencil pressed on a stretched elastic net. ‘Dammit!’ McGill cried. ‘A gravitational collapse!’ ‘What’s that?’ Michel Combert asked. ‘It’s the scientific term for what’s commonly called a black hole!’ Lieutenant McGill replied, in a voice full of emotion. Again tapping furiously on the keyboard to enlarge the view and make a few calculations, he raised his hand to demand silence while he finished what he had to do. Then he looked up, grim-faced, and said, ‘Well, it’s very clear now! If we can’t restart the thrusters in the next two hours, we’ll be sucked in!’ ‘Oh, my God, I knew it!’ Marie cried, and collapsed in tears in Martin’s arms. Apparently insensitive to her distress, McGill continued thinking out loud.

‘The surprising thing is how small it is. Usually, a black hole is created as the final stage in the evolution of a very dense planet known as a ‘white dwarf”, measuring about twenty miles in diameter. Here, the force of attraction is very weak, as if it had only measured less than an inch before being transformed into a black hole!’ ‘So we can get away from it?’ Martin asked. ‘Not if we can’t create a minimum amount of propulsion,’ McGill replied. ‘We’re already in the zone of attraction. Even though the attraction is very weak, almost imperceptible, we absolutely need to match it with an opposing force in order to get away from it. It’s stupid: if we hadn’t already jettisoned the third section, exploding the charges we used to separate us from it would have been enough, provided they were properly positioned.’ ‘I know where there are more!’ Quentin cried. ‘I saw some in the spare parts store, near the No 2 fuel tank!’ ‘What an idiot not to have thought of it!’ McGill said, and looked at Quentin with a gleam of hope in his eyes. ‘Quentin, my boy, you may have just saved our lives. There’s no time to lose! Michel, come with me! We need two people to place the charges and the faster we do it, the fewer we’ll need to put in.’ ‘I’m going with you!’ Elvire cut in. ‘I long ago learned to use a screwdriver after my husband died!’ ‘But...

er...’ McGill stammered, ill at ease, looking at Elvire. ‘I hope you’re thinking that I’m only a weak woman and not considering my age,’ Elvire said. ‘Otherwise the weak woman will feel obliged to slap you to demonstrate that she still has good muscles and knows how to use them!’ ‘No, no, not at all!’ McGill said apologetically, astonished at such sharpness. ‘All right, then! With three of us, there’s a good chance we’ll do the job… Let’s go!’ Only five spare charges had been found. According to McGill, and given the force of attraction, that only left them about twenty minutes to explode them. The attraction was increasing as the ship got closer to the black hole, describing a spiral towards its centre. ‘That’s it! I’ve fixed the last one!’ Michel said, bathed in sweat and in a hurry to finish. ‘Great! We still have nearly seven minutes!’ McGill replied, re-entering the airlock after Elvire. ‘Hurry up, Michel, we’re waiting!’ Forgetting to check that the electric cables had been properly fixed to the last charge he had placed, Michel ran to the airlock. He did not notice that one of the two wires was badly screwed into its connector. As the door of the airlock closed, it caused a slight shock and the cable came loose. Returning to the room next to the communal room, which also served as a dormitory, McGill saw that his instructions had been correctly followed. For security reasons, the children had

taken their places in their autonomous survival cells, in case the explosive charges damaged the wall of the section when they went off. Asking Michel and Elvire to quickly enter their cells too, he made sure they were airtight before settling in his, remembering to take the remote control in with him in order to activate the charges. Then, from inside his cell with its translucent walls, he winked at Quentin, who was opposite him, as a sign that everything was going well. Quentin, holding Theo in his arms, gave him a confident smile. At the end of the countdown, which he had programmed on his comcam, McGill pressed the button on the remote control. When there had been no change of direction after a few seconds, he realized something was wrong. He tried again several times, nervously shook the case, and pressed the button again and again with all his strength. When he finally realized that it was too late to try anything else, he calmed down, looked sadly at Quentin and slowly shook his head from side to side. Quentin had already guessed what the situation was. With an apologetic smile, he let him know that he just had to accept it. Then he closed his eyes and held Theo very tight to his chest. Regretfully, McGill gave him a last military salute. He activated another remote control to place the cells in a state of hibernation for an hour. Immediately,

a yellow gas put the travellers to sleep. Less than a minute later, as it was coming dangerously close to the centre of the black hole, the ship suddenly reared up vertically, then plunged at dizzying speed straight into the heart of the central tunnel. The ship rapidly decreased in size, and at the same time a kind of pure blue halo of light formed around it. As the acceleration increased, the cylinder became smaller and smaller and the light brighter and brighter. A few more seconds and nothing would remain of the ship but a white dot sucked in by the black hole at a speed faster than the speed of light, while the whistling of particles made an incredible noise. Then all at once, there was nothing! Everything had vanished without a trace! No more noise, no more light, no more speed, no more ship, no more black hole! Nothing but the cold, dark, silent void of space.

Chapter 15 The Planet Syldius In another part of the galaxy, more than sixty million light years from Earth, a tiny ball of light appeared as if by magic. It grew quickly then began to dilate, swelling on one side, becoming thinner on the other, and gradually transforming itself into a gigantic cone, the base of which exploded suddenly with a deafening noise. Immediately, it started spitting a myriad of coloured particles which soon became concentrated in a cylindrical cloud. The shape shrank, and at the same time the colours became less bright, better blended. In less time than it had taken for it to vanish, the last section of Cylinder No 3 had reformed in another part of the Universe! Inside, an automatic alarm went off, causing the vital functions of its hibernating occupants to reawaken. Emerging gradually from his deep coma, and imagining that he was washing himself at the basin in the bathroom, Quentin suddenly became aware that it was Theo licking his face. Immediately, he came back to reality. ‘Theo, good old Theo!’ he cried. ‘It’s you!’ As if to confirm the joy he felt at this reunion, he went on, ‘Yes, yes, we did it, we’re alive! Quick, let’s get out of here and go and wake the others.’ Without noticing the strange brightness of the room, he extricated himself from his bubble and ran to McGill, who was also starting to move. A quarter of an hour later, they were all sitting round the

table, trying to understand what had happened to them. ‘One thing’s for sure,’ McGill said. ‘We’re not in the same place where we were before. We’re not even in the solar system. I didn’t even know there was a planetary system like this, with two suns... I really don’t know what’s going on! In my opinion, the only hypothesis that makes any kind of sense is that the mini black hole into which we’ve fallen was a kind of fissure, a porthole in space and time that has transported us instantly from one point in the universe to another. The question now is – where?’ ‘What does the laser spectrometer indicate about the three blue planets in this system?’ Michel Combert asked. ‘They look so much like Earth!’ ‘At first sight,’ McGill replied, ‘the atmosphere looks viable: the proportion of oxygen is between 20 à 30 %, and there’s water on the surface. But the most surprising thing is that the ship has – er – reformed itself at a very specific point in space between the planets, which is called a Lagrange point: a place where we are balanced between the gravitational pull of each of the planets.’ ‘I don’t understand that at all!’ Michel moaned. ‘Can you be clearer?’ ‘Well, in a nutshell, we’re in a place where there’s no risk of falling, no risk of being attracted by one or other of the planets, a kind of point of balance where all the forces of

attraction cancel each other out. It’s the same principle as those geostationary satellites that stay in the same place indefinitely.’ ‘Ok,’ Combert said, ‘so we’ve been lucky. Why are you surprised?’ ‘The answer is in your question, Michel!’ McGill said. ‘Chance sometimes has nice surprises in store for us, but in our case, the chance is unprecedented, given the billions of other possibilities that we might have reappeared in a more unstable position.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘It’s quite simple. Since in my opinion the likelihood that we’ve been placed here by chance is almost non-existent, that means that SOMEONE has put us here intentionally! Since, quite obviously, it can’t have been our compatriots on Earth, who don’t have the necessary technology, it has to be someone else...’ ‘Aliens?’ Martin asked. As McGill was about to answer Martin, the screen of the videowall began to crackle by itself, interrupting their conversation. Suddenly, it lit up and a face appeared. It looked remarkably similar to that of a human, although a few slight differences were apparent at first sight. The skin was tanned and very smooth. The head was bald, the face almost hairless. The eyebrows were very thin, the forehead not very prominent, the eyes large and blue and slightly slanting. The nose and mouth, quite large but well-drawn, put the finishing touches to a fairly pleasant picture, with a somewhat Egyptian feel. The impassivity of the features gave a general impression of great inner serenity and deep wisdom.

In the silence which had fallen since the face appeared, the seven survivors had the distinct feeling that the individual was observing them too. He was examining them closely one after the other, as if to make sure of their intentions. Then he lifted an eyebrow and spoke in perfect French and in a clear, steady voice. ‘On behalf of the Syldian Triplanetary Federation and of the Supreme Praesidium, we bid you welcome and wish you peace! We have been observing and studying your race for several centuries now. It stands out from the others for its incredible vitality and its ability to absorb knowledge rapidly. Until now, we have refrained from all contact with your species: the constant numerous conflicts between the various groups you call countries incline us to be extremely cautious. However, the accident which occurred during your expedition to the planet you call Mars, and the sad fate to which you were about to be condemned, persuaded us to abandon our reservations and come to your rescue in the name of our most basic principle: respect for life. As has already been the case with other evolved life forms in similar circumstances, we have therefore chosen to bring you here and offer you our hospitality.’ The individual paused for a few moments, then continued, ‘In a few minutes, your ship will be taken on board one of our cargo ships and transported to the surface of Syldius, the mother planet of our civilization.

There, you will be welcomed, and then placed in selected families or, if you so wish, in a special residence in which you can be among yourselves. I strongly advise you to choose the first of these options, which will give you a chance to familiarize yourselves more rapidly with our customs and way of life. Besides, your host families will all be in the same area and you will of course be perfectly free to visit one another. Do you have any comments, or do you wish to ask any questions about this proposal?’ Still stunned by what was happening, the seven survivors exchanged questioning looks. What to answer? And who should do it? After a few moments’ reflection, Elvire broke the silence. ‘If you don’t mind, Henry, or you, Michel, I can try to be our spokesperson, at least when it comes to administrative questions like this one. What do you think?’ Thinking it might be better to hold back and observe the individual’s reactions, Henry and Michel nodded their assent. Elvire therefore faced the screen and began speaking on behalf of the group. ‘Sir, first of all we wish to express to you and your people how grateful we are to you for saving us from certain death. We too wish you peace and friendship. We are honoured by your hospitality and unreservedly accept your proposal to let us learn about your civilization by housing us with your families.

However, there are four children among us, separated from their parents as a result of the accident. So if you could arrange it so that each of them has an adult with him in his welcoming family, we would be very grateful.’ ‘Madam, we thank you for your wishes, which again demonstrate the high degree of evolution reached by your people. We are not surprised by your request regarding the children: in fact, we had already taken that into account. Your transfer to the surface of Syldius will take about an hour. During that time, we will show you a few images of our world on this screen. They will help you to get to know us better before you arrive. We are now going to interrupt this communication. Until we meet again, on Syldius!’ The image of the Syldian disappeared, to be replaced by an aerial view of the planet, similar to that of Earth from the sky. A landscape filmed from a high altitude passed before their eyes. They first saw a succession of vast continents and oceans, spread equally over the surface of the planet. As the image became clearer, they saw vast but harmonious built-up areas. Their perfect design, each composed of three concentric circles, left them speechless with admiration. The central circle was the city itself, identifiable by the large number of buildings, both public and private. Surrounding it, the much larger second circle

consisted of strips of earth arranged like the rays of a sun in a gradation of colours, from pale yellow to dark brown and from bright green to a deeper green. The third and last circle, as large as the previous one, was entirely dark green. ‘Did you see that?’ Michel said. ‘Their mastery of the environment is incredible! The city in the middle, then arable land, and finally the forest which transforms the carbon gas into oxygen!’ Still staring at the images of Syldius, the others nodded but made no other comment, being too absorbed by what they were seeing. Finally, the image came to a stop directly above a city that was even vaster than the others, which slowly grew larger as they came in to land. Soon, the central circle filled the whole screen and they began to distinguish the general style of the buildings. Curiously, the round, brightly lit roofs varied in colour and in brilliance. Suddenly, as on a giant screen, the lights on the roofs came together to form a message: Our capital Primalia welcomes our new friends from Earth. Astonished, McGill was the first to notice a word flashing in red at the bottom of the screen: Live. ‘Look!’ he said to the others. ‘This isn’t a recording any more! It’s live. We’re landing!’ Then he got up and rushed to a monitor from which he could control the lighting and start the cameras on the sides of the ship.

Confirming what he suspected, he saw that the only things visible outside were the walls of another ship on board which they had been transferred. ‘Incredible!’ he cried. ‘We didn’t feel a thing!’ ‘It’s clear their technology is far beyond ours!’ Elvire said. ‘It’s quite natural to be surprised, but they’re just applying what they told us and what we agreed to. All the same, we don’t yet know their real intentions towards us. Will they use their knowledge to help us return home? Or are we going to become guinea pigs to be studied, kept in a cage for the rest of our lives? When we land, I think it’s better to avoid saying too much or appearing too impressed by the extent of their knowledge. Let’s be careful not to give them any clues that might lead them to believe they have nothing to fear from our civilization. Let’s wait until we know more about what they plan to do with us…’ ‘Wise words indeed!’ Michel said. When they got off the ship and found themselves at last in the open air, they were impressed by the pleasant atmosphere and climate of Syldius. Breathing deeply an air filled with the scents of flowers, they were pleased to feel a light summer breeze in their hair. The temperature was mild. From the height of the platform where they had landed, they saw in the distance the two suns going down on the horizon. ‘Our first day on Syldius will

be night!’ McGill thought, amused. In front of them, at the end of an avenue, a reception committee of a dozen people seemed to be waiting for them. No sooner did they start walking towards them than the group also set off in their direction. From a distance, the Syldians looked very similar to the people of Earth. Dressed in tight-fitting metallic grey-blue suits, their arms and legs seemed quite long and thinner than normal. When they were just a few paces from the group, McGill, who was walking ahead of the others, suddenly stumbled against a soft, invisible screen which stopped him from going any further. Taking a step back, his eyes still on the Syldians, he moved his hand in a reflex action to the grip of the pistol he carried on his belt. In reaction, the Syldians smiled at him in a friendly fashion. Immediately, a soft voice seemed to come out of nowhere: ‘Lieutenant Henry McGill! As we told you, our intentions are peaceful. Would you please be so kind as to place your weapon on the ground?’ Astounded by the fact that they knew he was armed and even more by the fact that they knew his name, McGill turned to Elvire, a questioning look on his face. ‘Do as they say,’ she ordered. ‘This is hardly the time to play soldiers!’ Trying to control himself and not show that he was shaking with fear, McGill did as he was told. No sooner was the

pistol placed on the ground than it vanished into thin air. As he stood up again, stunned, his eyes met those of a Syldian who was coming towards him, holding out his hand. ‘Good day to you, lieutenant!’ the Syldian said. ‘I am Uberius Cedios, Minister of External Relations for our Federation. I’m very pleased to be the first to welcome you to Syldius! Would you be so kind as to introduce me to the other members of your team?’ ‘Is that really necessary?’ McGill asked, smiling nervously. ‘Of course!’ the Syldian replied immediately, somewhat offended. ‘We must respect the protocol! You are the visitors and must introduce yourselves first! Then I will introduce the members of our delegation...’ ‘Please forgive me,’ McGill said, remembering Elvire’s advice. ‘I don’t usually have to carry out the functions of a diplomat. So I’m not very used to protocol. Especially when meeting a… an alien!’ he added with a smile. ‘Of course, of course,’ the Syldian replied, without showing any particular reaction. ‘There’s no need for you to apologize. Rather, it is we who should do so. I’ll put you down for a session on the neurocharger sometime soon. But let’s not waste any more time, please introduce me to your compatriots.’ Holding himself back from asking what such a session consisted of, McGill made a mental note of the words and introduced the other six survivors to the Syldian. During the little reception that followed, everyone was

given an identification badge to be worn at all times. Then, as it was quite rightly considered that they needed a good night’s sleep before anything else, they were taken on board a kind of flying minibus across the lighted streets of the city to the three host families that had been selected, all located in the same street. They were quickly welcomed by their hosts who led them immediately to their bedrooms and let them settle in. They would meet again for breakfast the following morning.