"I see it glowing, still," he said. "It's almost as bad in here as out there, now. I guess it's okay. Come on. Let's bumble around finding the air bottles for the suits and get over there before I'm a boiled lobster. Not only is my reefer out, so's my light." "Coming." An air of urgency began to accumulate. "What are we going to do with him? It's a half-hour run over there." "Think you can make it, Charlie?" "I'm damned well hot." "Charlie, come out here. In the car. Skip, you get the bottles. You drive." Major Winship came out. "Lay down in back," Capt. Wilkins said. "Les, you lay down beside him. I'll lay on top of him. I think we can shield him pretty good that way." "That's good thinking," Capt. Lawler said from inside. The operation was not easily executed. Lt. Chandler got in first, and then Major Winship squeezed beside him. "Careful, there," he said as Capt. Wilkins came aboard. Capt. Wilkins's foot rolled off one of Major Winship's thighs. "Watch it!" "I am." "Oops!" "Ufff! I felt that. Ugh. Thank God for the way these are built." "How's that?" Capt. Wilkins asked. "I guess.... It's okay, I guess." "Cooler?" "It's too soon to tell. Man, I'll bet we look silly." Capt. Lawler came out with the bottles and studied his companions for a moment. "See if we can get up and over a little more, Les." "This okay?" "Better. How's it feel, Charlie?" "Okay." Cant. Lawler deposited the air bottles. "Everyone got enough air?" "I guess we're all okay," Capt. Wilkins said. "Don't we look silly?" Major Winship asked plaintively. "I can't possibly describe my emotions at this minute." "You look all right," Capt. Lawler said. "Still hot?" Major Winship grunted. He said nothing. "I'll get there as fast as I can." * * * * * After about ten minutes jarring across the lunar surface, Major Winship said, "I'm not appreciably cooler; but then I'm not appreciably hotter, either." "Shut up, Charlie. You're a thirty-year man," Lt. Chandler said. "Old soldiers never die, they just become desiccated." "I'd like a beer," Major Winship said. "A cold, frosty, foamy beer. Big collar. Gimme a beer, a little shaker of salt--" "Finogenov's probably got eight or ten cases." "For once, I hope you're right. Try to bounce a little easier, Larry." "Russians don't drink beer," Lt. Chandler said. "You sure?" "Vodka," Capt Lawler grunted. "They drink champagne, you idiots," Capt. Wilkins said. "Beggars can't be choosers," Major Winship said. "Champagne is okay by me. If it's just cold." "Finogenov will have a few hundred pounds of ice." "Cut it out," Major Winship said. "Boy, you wait till we get you back to Earth. When it comes time to reup, I'm going to be there. I'm going to remind you of this one." "You're a thirty-year man, too, Les," Major Winship said.