They said that they would only remember the launch as a blur, that the mixture of physical forces on the body and the stress and fear of a new experience would reduce the trip to a blur.

Cheryl was determined that this would not be the case. She clutched at the arms of her chair as best she could, her sense of touch muffled by the thick gloves of her space suit. She wished that her hands were free, so she could dig in and hold on, but the launch briefing had explained, in unending detail, the necessity of keeping her suit sealed and airtight the entire launch.

Not that would help, she mused to herself. Were anything really to happen during the launch of this tremendous vessel with the massive payload of rocket fuel in its tanks, she thought it very likely her suit would do little to protect her. Perhaps the layers of Kevlar and fiberglass and whatever else made up the damned thing would keep enough of her intact for the forensic specialists to identify her remains.

Resolutely she pushed the morbid thoughts from her mind and concentrated on the experience. This was all material for her book. Damn Spaceline Corporation and their non-disclosure agreements - she would find a way to get her experience out in a way that wouldn't require her to hand over editorial control (as well as 95 per cent of the profits) to the conglomerate footing the bill for this little jaunt. The money they would get from the television advertisements, the DVD sales, magazine revenue - not to mention the potential revenue from the sheer tourism value of the effort if this was a success - far outstripped anything they could strip from her.

And if this wasn't the 'thrill of a lifetime' they advertised...well, it was her obligation to tell the whole world that as well. No way she would trust them to tell anyone.

She glanced around the passenger compartment of the spaceplane. She new it was no more cramped than the main area of the old Concordes, but the thought that there would be only six inches of material between her and total vacuum made the whole place feel cramped and suffocating.

The vibration didn't help. Copernicus One, the revolutionary device that would carry them to orbit, was strapped to the underside of a larger launch vehicle, archaically named the Hipparchus. The Hipparchus would carry them some fifty thousand feet in the air, where they would drop - Drop! - the Copernicus. Theory had it that the Copernicus's engines would fire, carrying them up through the thin remaining atmosphere to the grand hotel in the sky where they would spend the next month.

Cheryl suspected the connection between the Copernicus and the Hipparchus could be tighter. She felt like she was riding on a mammoth child's toy, being clutched and tossed around by a toddler the size of Mount Everest.

How about her fellow contestants? She twisted her head around as far as the stiff suit would let her. To her left was an older woman, perhaps in her fifties, the skin of her face sun-wrinkled and dark. On her right, a tall, fit-looking guy with sandy hair and what could only be described as a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

She hated him on sight.

He caught her looking and turned his head to wink at her. She smiled thinly back - don't antagonize anyone this early in the game - and turned back to watch the seat back in front of her. Can almost smell the testosterone from here, she thought grimly.

There were twelve of them spaced around the cabin. She had caught glimpses of them all when they were packed into the spacecraft, but they hadn't been allowed to speak. Even the inter-suit radios had been deactivated. The only voice she had heard since liftoff had been the calm, clipped voice of Captain MacKenzie as he calmly walked them through the steps of the trip.

In all, MacKenzie had explained, the entire trip was planned to take just over four days, most of that time spent maneuvering to dock with Spaceline's pride and joy, the Grand Galileo Hotel, but first there was going to be three days of 'acclimation time'.

Cheryl swore that his voice sounded just the tiniest bit smug at that.

"Preparing to disengage," Captain MacKenzie's disembodied voice said suddenly. "If anyone is in any discomfort at this time, or if your suit needs adjusting, press the red button on the seat back ahead of you. Someone will come back to help you. This will be the last opportunity for adjustments before we disengage from the Hipparchus and continue under our own thrust."

Cheryl gave that thought due consideration. The massive thrust of Copernicus's rockets would leave them all pinned and motionless for the twenty or so minutes it would take to breach the atmosphere, so it was a fair statement.

Her suit felt tight in all the wrong places. Her shoulders felt hampered, her hands were muffled, she couldn't turn her head far enough, and she felt pretty much completely smothered by the entire deal. But she supposed it was fine. It wasn't like these thins were designed for comfort. No, if the Spaceline was to be believed, the comfort would come once they finally arrived at the Galileo.

Someone in the flight crew was moving down the aisle, checking each person personally. He leaned over into Cheryl's row, pressing a switches on each suit and glancing at the readouts. He smiled at her through the Plexiglas of his helmet, showing plenty of teeth in his freckled face.

When he pressed the switch on her suit, a small screen superimposed on the clear plastic on the inside of her helmet lit up. She saw a flash of readouts, which she guessed indicated if she was properly sealed and fit - all she knew was that they were all in green, something she felt vastly pleased about.

After the crewman moved on, she touched the switch for herself and was rewarded by the same display appearing. Yes, the display showed her suit's integrity, including if all seals were in place and the internal pressure and temperature was at a pleasant setting.

To the left was another reading. This one was labeled 'external pressure'. Great, so when she was in a total vacuum, she could have a cheerful little screen remind her of the fact. She turned off the screen and leaned back in her chair as best she could.

Eventually the crewman returned to the front of the cabin and touched some switches. The lights dimmed around them and a large movie screen flicked into life. Up on the screen was the chirpily happy face of Grant Brooks.

Grant Brooks, the human face of Spaceline Corporation. Grant Brooks, the internationally famous spokesman who appeared on television twenty times a day proclaiming the safety and excitement of the Grand Galileo. Grant Brooks, the host of what Spaceline was hoping would be the biggest and best reality television show of all time, To The Stars.

"Hello!" Brooks' voice was boisterous and deep even through the somewhat tiny speakers in her helmet. "I would like to greet you all on behalf of Spaceline Corporation and welcome you to To The Stars! Over the next month the twelve of you will get to experience everything that the Grand Galileo Hotel has to offer, as well as competing to see who will get to touch back down on Earth with ten million dollars!"

Dimly she could hear her co-contestants cheering and she realized that there was grin on her face as well.

And that was fair. Ten million dollars AND an exclusive first look at the Galileo itself.

Yeah, she was happy.

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