Heart of Gold

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AUBREY FITZWILLIAM KNEW THAT CRISIS WAS another word for opportunity. He simply wished that he saw more of the latter and less of the former.

AUBREY GRIMACED, TIGHTENED THE LAST VALVE ASSEMBLY and closed the ornithopter's cowling. He stretched, wincing, just as his friend George Doyle spoke up. 'Aubrey?'

'Hmm?'

'What's bright orange and floats through clouds?'

'Riddling, George? Really, you need to find something more worthwhile to do.'

'It's not a riddle, old man. It's what I'm looking at right now.'

With mechanical knowledge an important part of the ornithopter pilot's exam, Aubrey had worked hard on familiarising himself with every aspect of the complicated machine – while George spent much of the evening lounging on a bench, propped on one elbow and reading a newspaper. Now, he was peering out of the window of the workshop at the night sky. Aubrey wiped his greasy hands on a rag and strolled to see what had caught his friend's attention. 'Where?'

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