Disclaimer: Tintin and Co belong to Mulinsart and the Hergé Foundation. Always wipe from front to back.

One

It was a warm night in early September as the young couple made their way home from Place St Géry. They had spent an enjoyable evening at the theatre, followed by a drink or two in one of the trendy pubs of St Géry. Now, they were returning to his city centre flat so he could show her his dog. That wasn't even a euphemism for anything: he genuinely owned a dog that she wanted to meet.

"It's a beautiful night," Tintin said. They'd been quiet for too long. He wasn't used to this sort of thing. Yes, he'd taken girls out before, but nobody like Katarina. She was a ballerina from le Danz Róyal: the Royal Academy of Dance in Brussels. She was petite and slender with a dark, serious face and soft brown hair that curled slightly to her shoulders. She was seventeen (he'd lied about his age, of course, and told her he was eighteen) and sweet, but smart too. He liked talking to her: she was able to talk back intelligently.

"Mm," she agreed. "It's very warm. Almost like summer."

Now that he thought about it, it was a bit warm for September. "There's a lot of stars tonight."

"Yes, there is."

You're losing her! Say something witty! He cast his eyes around, but the street was fairly deserted and the shops were all shut up. He could hear music coming from a nightclub a few blocks over, but commenting on the noise would have made him seem old and dull, so he didn't bother. Luckily, something shot across the night sky, giving him a topic of conversation where he didn't look like a cantankerous old man.

"Look," he said, pointing to the sky, "a shooting star. Quickly: make a wish!"

She laughed and stopped dead to watch the star as it made its way across the inky black canvas of the sky, trailing a bright white train as it went. "It's beautiful," she said.

"Yes," he agreed wistfully. She was looking up, but he was looking at her, admiring the tilt of her nose – it made her look really innocent – and her pale skin, the smattering of light freckles across her cheeks. She caught him looking and blushed, dipping her head to hide her embarrassment. Even her blush was attractive, he decided. It made her look demure and coy. He just looked like a tomato when he blushed.

"I used to love watching the sky," she said when they'd started walking again. "I used to go out and lie on the grass when I was younger, and just look at all the stars. I had a telescope and everything."

"Do you know the names?" he asked, interested.

Katerina shook her head. "No, I didn't get that far. I used to just make up my own names for them, and give them a story."

"Aw, that's adorable." She was adorable. She was great. Plus, she was really busy – too busy for a full-time boyfriend. And she didn't care that he had to go away every so often, for long periods of time. She was too busy with the ballet academy to care.

She was perfect.

"I bet you know the names," she said teasingly.

He shrugged modestly. "I know a few," he admitted.

"Go on: name a few for me."

"Ok." They stopped walking and he looked up for a second, trying to find an easy one. "There," he said, pointing up. "That's the North Star. See the line coming down from it? That line of stars? That's the Big Dipper. See over there, that cluster of stars? That's Capricorn. And up there, over the church spire, is the Great Bear. That's Ursa Major, and the Big Dipper is Ursa Minor."

"How did they get their names?" she asked. "They don't look anything like dippers or bears."

"If you map the major stars in the constellations, like join that to that, and that to that" – his outstretched finger moved over the stars rapidly – "and that to… No, hang on, that one to… Wait a minute." He stopped and frowned. "That's wrong. There should only be seven stars in the Great Bear."

"There's loads," Katarina pointed out.

"Yeah, I know, but there should only be seven main stars." He went quiet as he counted them again. "There's eight there."

"How do you see eight?" she scoffed. "There's thousands!"

"No, there's twenty in Ursa Major, and the seven brightest make up the Great Bear. There should only be seven. But look." He pointed again, counting them out-loud for her benefit. "There's eight there. There's one star too many in the Great Bear."

"Oh, how can you know for sure?" she said lightly as she pulled him on.

"Because I know," he said pointedly.

"Don't let it bother you. There's millions of stars in the sky: what's one more or less?"

"Quite a big deal, actually."

She changed the subject and started talking about the play they'd seen earlier that evening, but he couldn't get his mind off that extra star. He was baffled: where had it come from? Surely this sort of thing would have been publicized before now? He didn't really keep up with the minutiae of astronomy, but usually the media made a big deal out of things like meteor showers and eclipses, or strange things making their way around the world, orbiting the earth and only becoming visible to the naked eye once every few years. If there was something extra in the sky, he was sure he would have read about it before now.

He was intrigued. He was sure he had the phone number for the Observatoire Royal de Belgique somewhere at home. He'd call them when he got there.

x

"So where's this dog of yours?" Katarina asked as Tintin took her coat and hung it up. "Or was that just a ploy to get me back to your house?"

"He's in the sitting room," Tintin said distractedly. He was really puzzled now: throughout the fifteen minute walk home he'd kept an eye on that extra star, and there was something slightly… off about it. He couldn't put his finger on it… He opened the door to the sitting room and walked in. Katarina trailed after him, hanging back until he'd plugged in a lamp. "Snowy, be good," he murmured as he rooted for the phone directory among the detritus stored under the coffee table.

Snowy had been splayed out on his back on the sofa. He wagged his tail when he noticed Katarina and made an effort to get up. Yawning, he slid off the couch and made his way over to her, his steps dainty.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, immediately bending over to pet him. "He's adorable!"

"Yeah, he's great," Tintin murmured. He flicked through the pages of the directory, searching for the Observatoire.

"He's a good boy! Yes he is! Yes he is!"

"Yeah, yeah." He'd found the number. Keeping his finger under it, he quickly dialled it. "I just need to make a quick phone call," he added to her. "Would you like a cup of coffee or something?"

"It's a bit warm for coffee," Katarina replied. "I'll have a Coke if you have one?"

"Yeah, sure. Sit down: I'll be back in a second. Oh, and if Snowy jumps up on you just put him back down on the floor," he added as he stood up and walked out of the room, heading for the small kitchen. "Hello?" he said into the phone. "Is that the observatory?"

"Yes," a man's voice said curtly. "What is it?"

"I was wondering if you can help me," Tintin said as he grabbed two cans of Coke from the fridge. "I've just noticed a very large, bright star in the Great Bear, and I was hoping you can tell me if" –

"We're aware of it," the man snapped, cutting him off. "We have it under observation."

"Oh," said Tintin, slightly taken aback at the man's rudeness. "What does that" – He heard the dial tone in his ear. "Hello?" he ventured. "Are you there? Hello? Unbelievable!" He put his phone back into his pocket and went back into the sitting room. "They hung up on me!"

Katarina was sitting at one end of the couch. Snowy was sitting beside her, leaning into her as she scratched behind his ears. His eyes were closing and his head was beginning to droop: he loved it when people scratched behind his ears. "What's up?" Katarina asked.

"The observatory hung up on me," Tintin explained. He handed her a Coke and went to the window. "I called them about that star and they just hung up on me."

"Ugh, would you forget about that star?" she said, rolling her eyes. "What's so important about it anyway?"

Tintin opened the window, trying to get some fresh air into the flat. He couldn't believe how hot it was: the temperature had risen very sharply. He leaned out and looked up at the star. "What's so important?" he asked, his voice tense. "It's growing. No, really, come and look! See? When we first saw it, it was the same size as the other stars. Look at how much bigger it is now! It's growing!"

"So?"

"So that's not good," Tintin said flatly. "Stay here a minute, will you? I'll be right back."

"What?" Katarina froze. "Where are you going?"

"Down to the observatory. I'll only be a few minutes."

"You're not leaving me here on my own, are you?"

"Here, Snowy!"

"Wait! Wait! Tintin!"

He shut the door. If she was still there when he came back, he still had a chance. If she was gone… Well, he'd have messed it right up, that was for sure. And his friend, Captain Haddock, would probably take the piss out of him about it for a month.

Probably longer.

But it was too strange. Even now, as he walked, he could visibly see the star growing. It was getting bigger and bigger, and as it grew the temperature rose. He was no astronomer, but even he knew that it wasn't a good sign. For all he knew, this could be the start of the zombie apocalypse. And if the zombie apocalypse was about to start, Tintin wanted to know straight away: he wasn't going to be caught on the hop. No siree Bob. If some zombie wanted to chow-down on his brain, that zombie was going to have to work for it.

The observatory was close by – within ten minutes walk – and as he neared it Tintin could see that almost every light in the place was turned on. Each window was lit up as the staff worked feverishly inside. It must take a lot of people to keep a star 'under observation', Tintin thought to himself as he rang the bell on the front door.

He heard footsteps inside hurrying to the door, before a key turned and the door opened. A harried-looking man wearing a janitor's uniform peered out at him. "What?" the man said bluntly.

"I was wondering if I can have a word with the director," Tintin said, turning on a friendly smile as he flashed his press credentials.

"No," said the man. "The director is unavailable." He pulled his head back in and slammed the door.

Tintin blinked. "How rude," he said to Snowy. "Well. We'll see about that." He leaned forward and rang the bell again. Once more, the door opened and the man peered out, looking in foul temper. "I've already told you," the man began.

"Come quick!" Tintin cried, grabbing the man's arm. "The building's on fire! Look, look!" He pulled the man out onto the pavement and flailed his arms in the direction of the side of the building.

"Bloody hell!" The man hurried forward, only stopping when his brain noticed that there was a distinct lack of both flames and smoke: two things one normally associates with fires. "Hang on," he said suspiciously, "there's no fire. Here, what's your bloody game?" He turned around and found that he was talking to an empty street: Tintin was gone and the door to the observatory was firmly closed. "Bugger!"

x

The entrance hall was taken up by the long information desk and, in the middle of the room, a long black console that – during the day – showed a digital picture of the solar system. Beyond that was a long corridor that ran around the whole circumference of the circular building. Each wall was covered in photos and paintings of stars and parts of space, explaining each one and offering interesting facts about them. In the centre of the building was a huge, round planetarium, and at the very back of the circular corridor was a discrete staircase that led up to the huge telescope that protruded from the domed ceiling of the observatory.

Tintin made for these stairs. The lights were all on, but there was nobody to be seen. If anyone was here, they weren't down in the public attractions. They would be up in the observation station, working. As he neared the stairs he saw a man coming towards him. The man was dressed entirely in black with a black hat that made him look almost like a Quaker from early American times, and wore a long, white beard that was styled into a sharp point. He was the first person Tintin had seen since he entered the observatory.

"Excuse me," Tintin said politely, "but can you tell me where" –

"A judgement!" the man said, waving his finger into the air. "That's what I told them! I said to them, I said; 'it's a judgement! Woe!', but they wouldn't believe me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"A judgement! A judgement upon us!" The man walked straight by Tintin without sparing him a single glace. Tintin stepped back and watched him go. He was still muttering to himself as he followed the corridor back towards the front entrance and disappeared from sight. "A judgement! The Lord sends a judgement! And don't you forget it!"

Tintin looked at Snowy. "He's barking mad."

Snowy wagged his tail politely. Tintin shook his head and went upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, until he reached the second floor and a closed door. He opened the door and walked into the observation deck. As his eyes fell on the colossal E.L.T. – the Extremely Large Telescope* – his breath caught in his throat for a second. It was just so… so large! E.L.T.s, he knew, were classified as any telescope with a lens diameter bigger than 20ft, and the E.L.T. in the Observatoire Royal de Belgique was the third largest in Europe and the largest in Belgium.

Beyond the telescope, two learnéd looking men in sombre black suits sat at a table that was strewn with papers. As he got closer to them, Tintin could see that the papers were covered in technical drawings and diagrams and long mathematical equations. Both men were silent and working very hard, absorbed by the task at hand. The only sound was the scratch of their pens against paper.

Tintin coughed politely. "Excuse me?" he ventured.

One of the men – the one with the great, domed head and a skirt of stringy, white hair that ringed his pate – started and looked round. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice surprised. He clearly hadn't been expecting any visitors.

"Sorry. Um, I'm looking for the director of the observatory."

"Shh!" the man said, putting his fingers to his lips. "That's me, but be quiet." He stood up and took Tintin's arm, leading him firmly away from the table. "That's me, Professor Phostle at your service. But we mustn't disturb my colleague: he's in the middle of a very difficult problem and needs silence."

"Oh!" Tintin sheepishly lowered his voice to a whisper and glanced at the second scientist, who seemed completely oblivious to the interruption. "I'm so sorry: I had no idea."

"Don't worry about it. Look, while we wait for him to finish, take a look through the telescope. It's a sight worth seeing, let me assure you."

As the professor went back to his seat, Tintin went to the telescope and focused the sight. It took a second for him to fully comprehend what he was seeing, but when the realisation that a giant, fiery spider was hurtling towards the earth sank in, he gave a cry of alarm.

"Shhhh!" he heard the professor call out irritably. Tintin wandered back over to the two men, feeling sick and slightly dazed.

"It… it's awful," he stammered. "H-horrible!"

"I suppose it is, in one sense," said Professor Phostle philosophically. "And yet, in another sense, it's quite beautiful."

"There is nothing beautiful about that! It's frickin' enormous!"

"Yes, it is. It's one of the wonders of the cosmos."

"Ugh! And all those legs!" Tintin continued. He shuddered. "Oh, I can't think about it. It's too disgusting!"

"Yes it – Hang on." the Professor looked around, confused. "Legs? What legs?"

"What legs?" Tintin raised an eyebrow. "The giant spider's giant spider-legs!"

"Giant spider?"

"Yeah, you know: the gigantic spider in the big ball of flames? The one in the sky over earth?" Things felt suddenly off-kilter: it was a conversation that Tintin had never imagined himself having.

"Young man," the Professor said haughtily, "if this is your idea of a joke, then please be assured that I am not laughing."

"Who the hell is? There's a giant spider hurtling through space!"

"Get out of the way!" The Professor pushed passed Tintin and hurried to the telescope. Tintin followed, and watched as the man's face drained of colour and turned deathly pale. "Good grief!" he said faintly. "You're right: it's a spider. I don't believe it!"

"See? I told you so."

"My word! How extraordinary! Judging by the thorax, I'd say it's from the Meta Segmentata. Or perhaps… Yes, that's it! It's an Araneus Diademetus! An enormous Araneus Diademetus!"

"It's in a giant ball of fire," Tintin said. To him, spiders were spiders: there wasn't much point trying to identify them if they were one hundred times larger than you and travelling through space in a giant ball of fire. "I take it this is the first time you've ever sen something like this, Professor?"

"It certainly is," Phostle murmured. He fiddled with the viewfinder, his eyes pressed against the sight.

"Ugh, what a monster." Tintin looked up at the great dome of the observatory and the sky beyond. The ball of fire was about half the size of the moon already.

It reminded him of something: of a ten-thousand mile long turtle swimming through space, with four two-thousand miles tall elephants standing on its shell, with the weight of the Discworld resting on their broad backs. What was it that Terry Pratchett said? he wondered. That's it: "That's the advantage of space. It's big enough to hold practically anything, so eventually it does."

The enormous lens of the telescope was rising out of the dome. Part of the glass had been opened so the telescope could be extended to its full, considerable length. How likely is it, Tintin thought, that there's a spider travelling on the outside of a fire-ball?

There was a winding, iron staircase that led up to the second level of the observation station. The second level was very high up. It had to be: someone had to go up every day to clean the telescope. Tintin took the steps two at a time, and looked carefully at the vast lens. "Professor?" he called at length.

"What?" the man called back.

"Yeah, it's just a spider on the lens. Watch out for my finger!" He tapped on the lens just above the spot the spider – the very small, very ordinary spider – was camped out on, and the vibrations made it scurry away. He waited until it was gone before going back down and rejoining the Professor.

"Take a look now," Phostle said, gesturing to the telescope, and Tintin did. Without the spider, it was simply a meteor and nothing to get worked up about. It was a vast, burning mass of rocks and various space debris.

"It's a shooting star," Tintin said.

"Yes," the Professor agreed. Tintin stayed silent. The Professor rolled his eyes before asking; "What does space not have?"

"I don't know. Um, flying spiders and giant turtles? Air?"

"Exactly! Air. And what does fire need, in order to burn?"

"Fuel? Heat? Oxygen?"

The Professor snapped his fingers at the last suggestion. "Bingo! It's on fire because it's entered our atmosphere already."

"And it's getting bigger," Tintin said, a heavy feeling of dread settling in his stomach, "because it's coming towards us, right? How close will it pass us by?"

"It won't," said Professor Phostle calmly as he surveyed the meteor through the huge, open dome of the observatory. "Pass us by, that is," he added. "It'll collide with the earth in a matter of hours."

Suddenly, Tintin wished it was the zombie apocalypse. "But," he said. "But," he tried again. "But that means…"

"Yes," said the Professor. "It means the end of the world, and the end of all life on earth."

*I kid you not: extremely large telescopes are called E.L.T.'s: Extremely Large Telescopes. The scientific community - while undoubtedly geniuses - lack imagination.