“Stay away from this satellite!” demands mission control. “This is the Girly Satellite beaming back all the girly television shows to Earth, like baking programmes and costume dramas. Do you copy, Everyman One? You must not touch this satellite!”

  “Copy that, mission control, I hear you,” I reply.

  I steer the spaceship past the Girly Satellite and further into space, past the moons of Jupiter, the rings of Saturn, the Great Bear and his little brother, the Teddy Bear. I see all the things we learnt about in class, including black holes, red dwarfs and blue moons.

  I settle back in my seat, flick a slow-motion travel sweet into the air and gobble it up.

  “I could get used to this life,” I sigh.

  I slide my portable games console out of my pocket and start playing space invaders. Pretend space is so much better than real space – there’s loads more aliens to kill for a start.

  “Take that, you intergalactic demons of death!” I holler. “I’ll zap you with my ray gun!”

  “Come in, Spaceman John,” says mission control. “What’s happening up there? It sounds like you’re being attacked!”

  “Sorry, Granddad, I was just playing my games console,” I mumble.

  Suddenly the lights on the flight control panel begin to flash and blink. I buckle up and grip the steering wheel.

  “Spaceman John, you are approaching the target,” says mission control. “What can you see?”

  “I see a blue satellite,” I reply, “with pictures of racing cars and steam trains and football players!”

  “Excellent,” says mission control, “that’ll be the satellite we’re looking for. See if you can get close up.”

  “OK, mission control,” I reply.

  I steer the spaceship as close to the satellite as I dare, then I reach down and pull the handbrake on. The spaceship judders to a sudden stop.

  “What do I do now, mission control?”

  “Find out why the satellite is broken,” replies mission control. “Can you see the on/off light on top of the satellite?”

  “It’s off,” I reply.

  “Hmmm,” says mission control. “I think I know what’s happened. The batteries have run out of power.”

  “What shall I do?”

  “You need to put some fresh batteries into the satellite to get it working again. You should find a pack in the armrest between the seats.”

  I look in the armrest, but except for a packet of chewing gum and some toffee wrappers, it’s totally empty.

  “There’s nothing there, Granddad…”

  “Oh dear,” says mission control. “What are we going to do?”

  My games console!

  I turn it over and flip open the battery compartment.

  “I have batteries!” I announce triumphantly.

  “Good work, Spaceman John,” says mission control. “We have seventeen minutes until kick-off. It’s time to go to work.”

  “Roger that,” I reply.

  “Who’s Roger?” says mission control.

  “No one,” I reply, “that’s just what they say.”

  “All right,” says mission control. “Open the hatch and fix the satellite. The future of the football-viewing world depends on it.”

  Chapter Four

  I do exactly what Granddad – I mean mission control – tells me. I screw my helmet on tight, pull on my space gloves and connect my backpack to the oxygen tank. Then I press my palm against the sensor at the side of the space hatch. The space hatch slides open with a whoosh and I see the endless stretch of black, starry space in front of me.

  “Wow! Space is spacey!” I gasp.

  “Spaceman John,” says mission control, “we’re running out of time.”

  I float to the satellite and grab hold of one of the big sails. Then I pull myself down the side of the satellite and past the big shiny mirror used to bounce television programmes around the Earth.

  “Come on, come on,” says mission control, “we only have fourteen minutes until the start of the match…”

  I catch my reflection in the mirror and see my little head inside my space helmet. I give myself a wink. I think I’m going to remember this moment for a very long time.

  “The battery compartment, Spaceman John…” says mission control.

  I see a little plastic flap on the underside of the satellite.

  “I’ve found the battery compartment, mission control.”

  “Excellent,” says mission control. “Flip out the old batteries and replace them with the new ones. And be quick about it – I’m busting for a pee!”

  “I’m on it, Granddad. Sorry – mission control.”

  I take out the screwdriver, open the battery compartment, pluck the dead batteries out and drop them into space.

  Then I slot three fresh batteries in the satellite, making sure I’ve got them the right way around.

  “Hurry!” says mission control.

  I clip the last battery into the compartment.

  “I’ve done it, mission control!” I cheer.

  Suddenly I hear a deep throbbing inside the satellite. The on/off light pings into life and lots of little lights chase one another up and down the two giant sails at the side of the satellite. Finally, the giant mirror glows a deep blue.

  “You’ve done it, Spaceman John,” announces mission control.

  A light strikes the mirror and bounces off into space.

  “I can see the television beam!” I gasp.

  “Can you see inside it?” says mission control.

  “I can see people arriving at a football stadium … and three men in suits in a television studio…”

  “Well done, John,” chuckles mission control, “you’ve fixed the satellite.”

  “What do I do now, Granddad?”

  “Come home, Spaceman John,” says mission control. “You’ve got twelve minutes until the match starts. Plenty of time to get your spaceship back to Earth and settle in for some top-flight footy. In the meantime, I’m off to pay a visit to the little boy’s room…”

  “Roger that, mission control, over and out!”

  I push myself off the satellite and float gently back to the spaceship.

  Mission accomplished.

  Chapter Five

  I settle into my seat, buckle my belt, power up my spaceship and head for home. Goodbye, little satellite. Goodbye, space. I’m going to watch United win the final.

  The rockets roar as I turn the spaceship in a big circle and steer her towards Earth.

  I might be on the far side of the Milky Way but an empty tummy is an empty tummy. Time I found myself a little space snack.

  I ping the glove box open and search around for another travel sweet. “Oh dear…”

  The box is completely empty.

  I unbuckle my belt and float off looking for a nibble. As I drift to the back of the spaceship, I see a big cupboard.

  Space Food, reads the sign on the door. “What have we got in here?”

  I’ve heard all about space food – bite-sized morsels that taste like entire meals. Burger and chips! Sticky toffee pudding! Cheese toasties! The mind boggles!

  Inside the cupboard are lots of little cardboard cartons in neat rows. I pull a carton off the shelf.

  “Chicken chow mein…”

  I flip the special space carton over and read off the back.

  “Oodles of noodles in a finger-licking chicken sauce.”

  Scrum-diddly-umptious!

  “Heat in special space cooker for six minutes. Check product is piping hot before serving.”

  I whack the space food in the space cooker until it makes a little ding. It tastes just like the ready meals Mum brings home from the supermarket. I close my eyes and savour the delicious tastes.

  “Mmmmmmmm…”

  When I open my eyes, I am face-to-face with another spaceman, staring right back at me!

  The spaceman lunges at me, making a horrible growl. Underneath his helmet I see big bulging eyes and a nasty, drooling mouth.

  “AAAAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!”

  I push away and go spinning head over heels, crashing into the flight control panel, accidentally nudging the turbo-thrust-thingy with my bottom.

  The boosters flare up; the rockets spit fire into space. The spaceship kicks on at a million miles a second. The lights start flashing on the flight control panel, the alarm starts beeping. The furry dice are flying about like crazy.

  “Mission control, mission control, do you read me?” I scream. Then I remember, mission control is sitting on the loo reading a copy of the Racing Times.

  Suddenly the darkness of space is lit up with flashes of bright white light. Out of the window I see we’re heading for a comet!!!

  I dive for the steering wheel and turn the spaceship sideways. As I do, the spaceman does a somersault and crashes into me.

  “Get off me! Get off me!” I gasp.

  We strike the tail of the comet.

  The spaceship goes spinning round in circles. Lumps of comet smash into the side of the spaceship; fire scorches the nose. Ice peppers the windscreen. I try pressing the windscreen wipers but they jam. Outside, red-hot flames lick at the window.

  “Mission control, mission control, do you copy?” I holler, desperately.

  The radio crackles into life.

  “Everyman One, this is mission control, sorry about that. I just nipped off for a rich tea biscuit and I thought whilst I was in that part of the world I might like to make myself a nice cup of tea…”

  “Mission control, we have a problem!”

  “So anyway, I made myself a cup of tea, and do you know what? I couldn’t find the sugar…”

  “Mission control, we have a problem!” I repeat.

  “So I had to borrow a spoon of sugar from whatshername next door…” says mission control. “You know, her with the leg…”

  “MISSION CONTROL!!!”

  “Anyway, how can I be of service?”

  “There’s another spaceman in the spaceship!” I scream.

  “Don’t be daft, Spaceman John,” says mission control. “This is a one-man flight.”

  “Oh no!” I shriek.

  The spaceship is hurtling towards a massive, lifeless rock.

  “I think we’re going to crash, Granddad,” I cry.

  “You’re breaking up on me,” says mission control. “Say that again…”

  “Crash positions!”

  The spaceship slams into the rock.

  The hatch explodes and we both fall out at a zillion miles an hour. We tumble across the craters, wrapped up in each other’s arms and legs, one big spacemen bundle, with the spaceship skidding just behind us.

  Eventually we roll to a stop.

  I scramble to my feet and holler at the other spaceman.

  “You made me crash my spaceship…”

  The spaceman takes a step towards me. This is the most scared I’ve been since I slept head to toe with Hayley in the same bed.

  I peer into the helmet and see the face on the inside in all its amazing detail. It is a face that turns my heart ice cold with fear.

  Chapter Six

  “Muffin!”

  It’s the annoying little spaniel from next door, inside his very own spacesuit, with his squeaky bunny in his teeth. The dog we’re meant to be keeping safe and well while the Virgo family holiday in the Costa Del Somewhere-or-other. Instead, he’s stolen a ride to the far side of the universe.

  “Muffin! What are you doing here?”

  Muffin looks at me and cocks an ear. Then he sticks his big pink tongue out and licks the inside of the space visor. I pull his helmet off and stare at him.

  “Bad dog! You crashed my spaceship!”

  Muffin barks and runs round in a little circle, his tail sticking out of the back of his spacesuit. How did he end up on the mission with me? He must have sneaked off and snuffled his way into the chest under Granddad’s bed. So when I said the magic words he got taken on the journey by accident.

  Granddad comes crackling through the radio in my helmet.

  “Come in, Everyman One… Come in, Everyman One…”

  “This is Everyman One, do you copy?” I reply.

  “Are you all right?” says mission control.

  “I’ve crashed my spaceship,” I gulp. “And I’m not alone…”

  “Not alone?” says mission control. “You mean you have encountered an alien life form?”

  “You could say that,” I nod. “I have Muffin with me!”

  “Oh dear,” says mission control. “I hope he behaves himself. What’s he doing?”

  “Right now,” I grunt, “he’s chasing his squeaky toy over the intergalactic landscape. Muffin!”

  Muffin stops chasing his squeaky toy and looks at me, his flappy ears floating above his head.

  “Perhaps if he hears my voice, he’ll be a good doggy,” says Granddad. “Mission control to Muffin! Mission control to Muffin! Can you hear me, Muffin? What’s he doing now?”

  “He’s running round in little circles chasing his tail,” I reply.

  “Where are you, Spaceman John?” says Mission Control.

  “I’m on some faraway planet, mission control,” I reply. “It’s very cold and very dark.”

  “How is the spaceship? Is it damaged?”

  Just then the spaceship groans and splutters, the lights fizzle out and the engine wheezes and croaks to a stop.

  “We’re in trouble, mission control,” I sigh. “You’ll have to watch the football match without me.”

  “Can you get help?” says mission control.

  “Help! Where am I going to get help?” I protest. “Oh, Granddad, why did I ever come on this mission? Wait a moment, I’m being a real space cadet! I can say the magic words and beam myself right back into the living room in time for the match!”

  I bundle Muffin into my arms, take a big breath and speak the words…

  “Say it long, say it loud – I’m John Smith and I’m PROUD!”

  But nothing happens. I stay rooted to the spot, a long way from home.

  “What’s happening, Granddad? It’s not working!”

  “Yes,” mumbles Granddad. “I remember now, I had the same problem when I went to Pluto once. The magic doesn’t work in space.”

  “WHAT!!!”

  “I know, you can imagine my surprise. I had to hitch a ride home on a shooting star. Very inconvenient.”

  “What am I going to do, Granddad?”

  “You’re going to have to get back the same way you got there – in that spaceship!”

  Suddenly I see something incredible. A little ball comes bouncing over the brow of a hill and trickles down a small path, rolling to a stop at my feet.

  “It’s a golf ball,” I blurt.

  Just then, the ground starts to rumble. Muffin scrambles over the alien landscape, slipping and sliding on the icy slope, and hides behind a rock.

  “What’s going on?” says mission control.

  Coming over the brow of the hill is a funny-looking silver car. As it gets nearer I see it is actually hovering off the ground. It glides down through the rocks and pauses a few feet away from us. On the back of the car is a set of golf clubs.

  The entire roof of the car softly rises up and a little blue head in a golf visor pokes out from the side, surrounded by swirling wisps of steam.

  “Aha!” says the little blue head.

  He points a long thin finger at the golf ball and magically lifts it into the air.

  “Fancy a lift?” says the little blue head. “Hop in!”

  Chapter Seven

  The little blue head is attached to a long blue body. The funny little blue man sits in the driver’s seat, carefully steering his little car over the icy wasteland. I sit with Muffin huddled up on the back seat of the car, staring out of the window.

  “Welcome to our frozen planet,” says the little blue man. His head spins completely round and he smiles at us. “We don’t get many vistors round these parts - not any more.

  He looks into the sky at a dark planet over our heads.

  “We used to be a regular tourist stop,” continues the little blue man, “but if you can’t guarantee the sunshine, you can’t get the tourists. We tried some winter sports – bit of skiing, some ice skating – but it never really caught on. Our trouble is, we just don’t get the visitors.”

  I sit quietly on the back seat of the car, letting the little blue man ramble on.

  “My name is Quantum, by the way,” he says cheerily.

  Quantum steers his little car over the mountains and down into a giant crater. The doors ping open and we step outside.

  “You should meet our leader,” says Quantum. “He would find you most interesting. Did I tell you we haven’t had a visitor for a very long time?”

  “Uh, once or twice,” I reply, slipping after Quantum over the ice. “Come on, Muffin…”

  Quantum leads us to a huge tower made of ice. We step inside, the doors close and with a whoosh we are carried to the very top of the tower.

  I see loads of aliens standing in the twinkling light, all shapes and sizes and colours – three eyes, two eyes or twelve eyes, sometimes with four heads, sometimes without any heads at all. But even though they all look different, they have one thing in common. They all wear really thick woolly jumpers. Muffin clings nervously to my shins as we walk by.

  Suddenly a little ginger-headed man appears on a slab of ice with a crown on his head.

  “This is our alien king,” whispers Quantum.

  Quantum walks forward and addresses the alien king.

  “Your Majesty, we have visitors…”

  The alien king looks at me, then trains his curious little eyes on Muffin – all six of them.

 

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