Nobody’s ever alone, kid. Even out here neither one of is alone. Not ever.
The plane was out over the water now, the dark green ridges behind them, nothing but restless deep blue billows below, reaching for them. Not another plane in sight. We’re losing altitude.
Yeah.
I don’t know how long Look! The carrier, Bob!
Where? Yeah. Looks damned small from up here. You’re almost home. I’ll handle the rudder, you work the stick.
Yeah, okay. Maybe we can make it. Maybe . . .
No maybe about it! We’re going to put this junk heap down right in front of the admiral’s nose.
Sure.
Gear down?
Think so. Indicator light’s shot away.
The hell with it.
LSO’s waving us in.
They’ve cleared the deck for us.
Nice of them.
Easy now, easy on the throttle. Don’t stall her!
Stop the backseat driving.
Deck’s coming up too damned fast, Bobby!
Don’t worry . . . I can . . . make it. Always was . . . a better flier . . . than you.
I know. I know! Just take her easy now.
Got it.
Head knocker?
Yeah. Don’t want to eject by accident, do we.
Hang in there, kid.
Here it comes!
You did it! We’re down!
We did it, brother. We did it together.
The deck team rushed to the battered plane. Firefighters doused the hot engine area and wings with foam. Plane handlers climbed up to the cockpit and slid the canopy back to find the pilot crumpled unconscious, his flight suit soaked with blood from the waist down. The medics lifted Bob Carlton from the cockpit tenderly and had whole blood flowing into his arm even while they wheeled him toward the sick bay.
“Look at his face,” said one of the medics. “What the hell’s he smiling about?”
It took thirty more orbits around the Moon before Peters and McDonald left the surface to rendezvous with the command module and begin the flight back to Earth. Thirty orbits while Bill Carlton sat totally alone. New attempts to contact his brother were fruitless. He knew that Bob was alive; that much he could sense. But there was no answer to his silent calls.
Wally Peters wormed his way through the airlock hatch-first, a quizzical expression on his square-jawed face.
“How you doing, Billy boy?”
“Just fine. Glad to have you back.”
Dave McDonald came through and floated to his couch on Bill’s left. “Miss us?”
“Lonesome in here, all by yourself?” Wally grinned.
“Nope.” Bill grinned back.
Wally and Dave glanced at each other. Bill realized it had been a long time since either of them had seen him smile.
“Here,” said Wally. “We brought you a present.” He reached into the pouch in the leg of his suit and took out a slim, dark piece of stone.
“Your very own moon rock,” Dave said.
Bill took it from them wordlessly.
