"What do they do?" "After the squad fires its volley, the Captain steps up to the fallen man and puts a bullet through his brain. The man is executed for a reason, but the bullet is an act of mercy--the act of a gentleman. "We are being executed for a reason we can't understand, and the bullet has already been fired, Jim. Another ten hours--eleven hours." "What bullet?" "Look up there. See it? The Moon." Jim looked dully into the sky. "It's bigger--a way bigger." "Hurtling in toward us at ever increasing speed. When it hits--" Jim looked at his brother with complete understanding at last. "When it hits--we won't be here any more." "That's right. A quick, easy death for the world--from the bullet fired by the Last Gentleman." They turned back toward the house. "Shall I tell Myra," Jim asked. "What do you think you should do?" "No--no, we won't tell her. We've got ten hours." "Yes--we've got ten hours." "Let's go home and have some coffee."