Those who planned humanity's escape from a doomed Earth didn't wait for crowdfunding or positive public opinion polls. Construction on the UESS Volery was well underway when stories about Apophis colliding with Earth began to move from pseudo-science blogs to the front pages of the Associated Press. That was lucky. There wouldn't have been time, otherwise. The ship was assembled in space, secretly, on the far side of the moon, and they finished her ahead of schedule. That was lucky, too. The world was running out of time. On the very day video imagery of the Remote Manipulator System's robotic arm breaking a bottle of Mumm Grand Cordon Stellar Champagne against the nanocarbite steel of her saucer section flashed across the Net on Earth, Apophis was sighted in the night sky. Soon afterward people could see Apophis with their naked eyes, but the Volery remained hidden. Even though the moon shrouded her in secrecy, she was talked about all over the Earth. People knew she was huge. Photographs of her sections, under construction, were leaked to the Net. People knew she was assembled in space. There were witnesses when one section or another launched past the Earth's atmosphere. Finally, people knew she was the most expensive craft humanity ever built. She took a multinational effort, funded by various governments and a few prominent billionaires. George A.C. Voler spent his entire fortune on her. At first, his family and friends mocked him, but he figured he got the last laugh. His money bought him a first-class berth and the honor of having the ship named for him. Her name was officially recorded as Volery, but George had ***Voler's Folly*** emblazoned on her side in 24-carat gold leaf. The lettering was big enough, he ensured it, to see it clearly from observatories on earth. When the world gathered to watch his ship swing out from behind the moon and shoot toward space,