Everything was ready, and the world
watched with bated breath as the sheath came off, and the
name of the rocket that was to take humankind to Venus
was revealed. The good ship
"Penis I" stood on the launchpad,
ready for lift off. The boss of NASA, knowing only he was
responsible for the name, was trying to make up his mind
whether he should run away and become a hermit or just
commit suicide. But nothing would stop the mission now.
"Penis I, Penis I",
spluttered Mission Control, to the muffled sound of
background laughter. "Confirm ready for lift off. T
minus Fifteen seconds."
"Roger Control", replied
Ralph. "Penis I ready for lift off".
The flight path had all been designed
so that Penis I would launch, skilfully avoid crashing
straight into the moon, and head for Venus in record
time. When it got there, a landing module would detach
itself and land on the surface of Venus. What happened
after that was anybody's guess, although the various
parties involved in the project had their own particular
aims.
The scientists wanted the astronauts to
gather scientific data about the planet, and to collect
samples of anything that wasn't nailed down. Dust, rock,
water, plants, anything they could find to bring back
that the propellerheads could pull apart and study the
atoms of.
The PR people wanted great pictures of
Venus, showing the power of humankind's skill at getting
men onto Venus. They wanted weird alienesque images, and
preferably, some contact and an informative conversation
with an actual alien.
The military wanted to make sure there
were no aliens there, especially Communist or Iraqi ones,
and to have the crap blasted out of any that they found.
They also wanted the planet claimed on behalf of the
population of Earth.
Penis I lifted off to the cheers and
laughter of most of humanity, and climbed through the
heavens towards Venus. Some joker back at Mission Control
had programmed the computer to say "welcome to the
inaugural flight to Venus. We'll be flying at a speed
of..." but Ralph, who was not one for joking even at
the best of times, shut it off. He didn't even listen to
how many frequent flier miles he would be earning.
Actually they were frequent flier
kilometres, and there would be fifty million of them
going each way, assuming that the astronauts survived the
Venus mission. Unfortunately NASA didn't run many public
flights, and they weren't associated with any of the
other space flight companies or the airlines, so the
chances of using the 100,000,000 points were not very
good.
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