*This is Chapter 7 of Who Brought the Steak Tartare?, you may want to go back to Chapter 6 or start at the beginning.

On the morning of the launch, the crew boarded the Investigator with much fanfare. The wind, however, was unfavorable, and the launch was aborted. All the crowds who came to watch were disappointed. They lifted off during the night, and that was spectacular, too.¹

While they waited, Flinders addressed his crew.

‘We’re heading to Jupiter, farther than any human has ever gone before. We have no idea what we’re looking for there. But I think that puts us in good company. At the risk of sounding sappy, I’d like to point out that Christopher Columbus didn’t find what he was looking for, either. He was looking for India and obviously he didn’t find it. But he didn’t let complete failure get in his way. I can’t help thinking that he had a good idea of how far he was from India when he jumped off the boat in the Caribbean. He knew that what people wanted was India, and he gave the people what they wanted. This is how I want you to think about the mission ahead of us. We’re going to be wildly successful, because whatever we find, we’re going to call it Alien.’

If it doesn’t seem a very inspiring speech, it should be remembered that though the history of Martian exploration presents a great variety of appearances on its surface, its internal principles and practical effects were very much of one kind. Cruelty and deceit are to be traced in all its operations.² The Martians were used to it.

When the word came that they were finally ready to launch, they were once again escorted to the launch pad, where an elevator carried them to the command capsule, perched atop a cartoonishly large rocket. They performed an elaborate ceremony called Safety.

The ceremony may have begun even before they entered the capsule, when they donned their spacesuits. These consisted of absurdly large coveralls, obese with padding, and bristling with reflective tape and fluorescent warning labels. I think it is likely that these suits reminded Flinders of the ones he was compelled to wear when he was in prison in his youth. Once they were in their seats in the command capsule, the ceremony continued. Numerous nylon straps were secured about them with metal buckles and absurd helmets were placed over their heads.

It may seem odd that the Martians would go through such complicated arrangements when any reasonable observer could immediately discern that all the most likely mishaps led to the certain death of the crew, padding or no. But the Martians had many ceremonies in this death-cult called Safety. It is clear that it offered more of a psychological defense than anything else.

The launch was a fiery event, with much loud noise. But it was quickly over and the crew was soon beyond the planet’s atmosphere. As they neared the Investigator, it appeared first as a tiny glint out of the front windows of the capsule. They followed a pre-programmed path that brought them to the Investigator’s docking port. During the whole of the launch and the docking, as was to be the case for the entire duration of the mission, the crew had nothing at all to do.

The capsule echoed with the small mechanical sounds of thrusters making minute adjustments. There was a gentle thump that reverberated through the capsule’s hull, and then there was silence. It took the crew some time to release their many harnesses and belts. When they finally succeeded, they were all, save the two Chinese astronauts, surprised by the sensation of weightlessness. Trim floated about in his mechanical diaper, looking ominous.

‘I don’t know about you guys,’ said Flinders, ‘but I’m starving. I say we start by eating. I’ll cook.’

Flinders spun the door of the capsule open, and, followed by Trim and the rest of the crew, made its way into the Investigator.