Voices woke him. He felt vexed. The voices were loud. Not shouts, but not whispers either. Normal talk. People were talking normally around him. Two people. They woke him. He moved around in his bed. The breeze had gone. There were other sounds now. Mechanical sounds. One of the voices spoke to him. He was a doctor. Asking how he felt.
Terrible, he said. He opened his eyes. His throat was dry and his head hurt like hell. He groaned.
You’re pretty lucky, the other voice, another doctor, said.
Memories returned to him the way memories did. Neil and Dave. He shut his eyes again. The doctors sat him up, gave him water, he drank it through a straw.
A fella jogging on the beach saw the whole thing, one of them said. Good job too.
What hospital…? Harrison said.
They took you to the 6550th USAF Hospital down at Patrick Air Force Base. The runner’s a captain down there. Deke Slayton got you transferred up here. You’re in NASA’s medical facility here at Cape Canaveral.
Deke … Harrison said.
The second doctor left.
You came in pretty beat up, the first doctor said. Amazingly, you only have two broken ribs and a severe concussion. No damage to your brain, your head, or your spine. Can’t say the same for your Corvette.
When can I leave? Harrison said.
Not anytime soon, the doctor said. I want to monitor you for possible intracranial hemorrhaging and both NASA and the air force want to conduct a full psychiatric assessment, which, of course, will have to go on your record. To the outside world, you’re being treated for a neck injury as well as the aforementioned ailments, following a little overexuberant rat-racing to blow off steam. Perfectly understandable for an astronaut putting his hide on the line for his country. There’s water, if you’re thirsty—he motioned to the bedside table—and sleeping pills if you need them.
What’s your name? Harrison said.
I’m Doctor Merry.
You don’t look so thrilled.
And you look like a fool, Captain.
I just want to get out of here, Harrison said.
I’m afraid that’s impossible, Merry said. And my staff will make sure that’s the way things stay. Don’t forget that you’re still a captain in this air force. Orders are orders. And no amount of so-called astro-power is going to help you here.
I don’t need a goddamn shrink, Harrison said.
We’ll let the goddamn shrinks be the judge of that, Merry said.
Harrison tried to move. His whole body ached. His ribs were sore. He felt drowsy.
Deke, he said. I need to talk to Deke.
You need to rest. Colonel John Winterbourne, chief of Psychiatry, will see you tomorrow. A nurse will be in at four. Enjoy the food.
Merry left. Harrison shut his eyes. Armstrong was dead and it was his fault. The air was very still. He opened his eyes and stared out the window. He turned his head. The bottle of sleeping pills stood on the bedside table. It was a large bottle. He stared at it for a long time.
Deke, he said, turning away. He had to speak to Deke.
At ten to four, the nurse came in. You got a phone call, she said. I’ll bring it in.
A telephone was wheeled to his bed on a small trolley. The receiver sat on its side. He picked it up.
How you feeling, kid?
Deke.
Sorry I can’t get up there.
It’s my fault, Deke. The crew. They’re dead because of me.
Dead? What the hell are they givin you up there? Armstrong activated the RCS, brought the ship under control; kept enough in the tank for reentry. But, as you know, mission rules state an immediate abort once the RCS is activated. So we brought em down right away, in the middle of the damn Pacific, five hundred miles east of Okinawa. Poor bastards had to wait two hours in heavy seas before the Leonard Mason could get to them. Gemini VIII; one for the books. I won’t lie; it was close. Hell of a job. Hell of a pilot. Glad you’re all in one piece. Hope the view is good. Oh, and Merry is an asshole.
The line went dead. He sunk back into his pillows and exhaled slowly. Jesus. Outside, the light was fading. He just wanted to go home. He reached his hand across to the sleeping pills. The pain in his chest was dull. He swallowed one with water and shut his eyes and waited for the darkness to come.
The wind flicked the curtain and banged the window. It was the middle of the night. He stirred. Another bang, louder. Maybe there was another tropical storm about to hit the Cape? There hadn’t been any concerns for the launch, but those things could move pretty fast. He sat up. His head felt groggy. He tried to get out of bed. His feet fumbled in the gloom for the cold floor. He looked up. There was a figure standing in the window.
Jesus, Harrison said.
What’s a pudknocker like you doing in a place like this?
Pancho?
The shadow dropped into the room.
Guess you can drive about as well as you can fly, huh?
What the hell are you doing here? Visiting hours ended at six.
Well I didn’t fly two and a half thousand goddamn miles in ten hours to bring a weenie like you grapes. So grab your stuff and let’s get the hell out of here.
She stepped forward to see him.
Christ, she said. You look awful.