“I hear it, Commander . . . but I don’t believe it.”
Stanley picked up the searchlight and began sweeping the horizon. “Hello?
The spacesuit had once been pristine white. It was now dirty grey with moondust, only the ragged and bent solar array on the back carefully polished free of debris. The figure in it was nearly as ragged.
After a meal and a wash, she was coherent and ready to explain.
“It was the mountaintop. I climbed the mountaintop to stay in the sunlight, and I just barely got high enough to hear your radios.”
Nakora nodded. “That much we figured out. But the rest—the last month—you really walked all the way around the moon? Eleven thousand kilometers?”
Trish nodded. “It was all I could think of. I figured, about the distance from New York to LA and back— people have walked that and lived. It came to a walking speed of just under ten miles an hour. Farside was the hard part—turned out to be much rougher than nearside. But strange and weirdly beautiful, in places. You wouldn’t believe the things I saw.”
She shook her head, and laughed quietly. “I don’t believe some of the things I saw. The immensity of it— we’ve barely scratched the surface. I’ll be coming back, Commander. I promise you.”
“I’m sure you will,” said Commander Stanley. “I’m sure you will.”
As the ship lifted off the moon, Trish looked out for a last view of the surface. For a moment she thought she saw a lonely figure standing on the surface, waving her goodbye. She didn’t wave back.
She looked again, and there was nothing out there but magnificent desolation.
