"Tranquility, Houston: Loss Of Signal in 5..4..3..2..1..." A soft crackle replaced NASA's voice from a quarter million miles away. LOS happened every thirty-seven minutes on the lunar surface. This was the twenty-ninth time; the crew of Apollo 11 on the moon for almost fifteen hours didn't give it a second's thought. They would be on their own for twenty-three minutes. This would be the last time before the long trip home.

"Tranquility, Colombia: there's something blinking just to the right of your location. Did you guys leave a flashlight outside?"

"Negative, Columbia. All present and accounted for."

"Well, take a look out Window Two and tell me what you see."

Buzz Aldrin unhitched the binoculars from their Velcro storage strap and focused out the slightly dusty window of the Lunar Excursion Module. Off in the distance, maybe two hundred yards, a light was blinking. Off...on...off...on. If there had been sufficient gravity the binoculars would have probably hit the metal deck and shattered. Neil Armstrong had several seconds to reach out and snatch them in mid-air.

"Columbia we see it. Switch to ISC...now." By switching to Intership Communications mode no one, hopefully no one, could hear what the three astronauts had to say. Houston and the rest of their earthly companions were now totally out of the loop. "Michael, there's a blinking light about 200 yards out to our right. It's on top of a...well it appears to be...appears to be a spaceship."

"Neil say again. You broke up on the last part."

"I said it appears to be a spaceship."

Very few people can hear you say "Holy shit" in space especially when you don't want them to hear it in the first place. Command Module Pilot Michael Collins had uttered those words many times in Air Force jets and experimental planes when no other words seemed quite so apropos. From his orbiting command center Collins could only imagine what his two cohorts on the moon were saying. Command, unfortunately, applied only to the ship, not the pilot; he was merely their chauffeur. But here in Columbia, just over one hundred miles above them, the fear of the unknown, burning with the intensity of a Texas oil fire, lit up the cabin.

"Buzz is he correct? Do you see it as well? Neil, check the oxygen gauges and make sure you guys are not hypoxic. Check 'em now."

"We're fine Michael, all the gauges are normal. I can see it as clear as the stars up above. It's a dull gray color, almost the same color as the lunar dust. Must be fifteen, twenty feet tall, kinda triangle shaped. I can't make out any markings on it. There's a blue light blinking very slowly at the very top. It must have started blinking just after we returned to the LEM because it wasn't there five minutes ago."

"Neil, you two are going to have to take a look at it; make contact. We've got to let Houston know as soon as we clear LOS. We should abort the liftoff."

"Whoa, Michael. Remember I'm still the mission commander. This isn't some runaway steer we're looking at; we don't know what this thing really is yet. Give me a minute or three to figure out a plan."

In the Lunar Excursion Module Neil Armstrong, first man - well maybe - to have set foot on the moon pondered the possibilities. There was someone or something else here. Were they friends? Where did they come from? What did they want? And of the greatest concern - what should he do about them? He was the commander, the one who had to make the final decisions for his crew and several million dollars worth of tax payer hardware. NASA had made most of those choices for him well in advance of their liftoff from Cape Canaveral three days ago. But NASA wasn't here on the moon with a preplanned script for this event. They were supposed to be alone.

It had been a long convoluted ride to this point. Neil had rallied his supporters and paid a heavy price to get his name placed at the top of a very short list of possible moonwalkers. He had made many new friends in his campaign but had estranged far too many others. The obsession with being first had almost cost him his marriage. His wife had gotten fed up with the late night phone calls and the cold dinners alone. She had moved back with her mother for most of his training and had only returned to his side ten days prior to liftoff when the decision was announced and the bickering between the three astronauts had finally been quelled.

Michael Collins knew from the start he was the most qualified pilot, a skill dooming him from lunar exploration. They needed the best pilot to fly them home in Columbia so the job fell on his shoulders. With the exception of his military prowess, Buzz had considered Neil an equal, until the day the decision was made. There was only one ladder down from the LEM to the lunar surface. There was going to be only one first man on the moon, everyone else would be second. Buzz made every effort to be gracious and conciliatory but it was always with a clenched jaw. Just as John Glenn before him, Neil Armstrong was the All-American boy; hero test pilot, eminent scientist, every mother's son with a smidge of apple pie on his chin. Buzz was an Air Force fighter jockey with a short fuse; he was yang to Armstrong's yin. You just knew in a tight spot Buzz Aldrin would be ready to kick ass and take names but he was not the guy they wanted on the cover of Life magazine; Neil Armstrong would be the first man on the moon.

"Ok, let's start with this: Do we have the time, oxygen and fuel to make another lunar walk?"

Collins had the numbers before the last words came through his headset, "Yes. I figure we've got a two orbit window. Which gives you over 120 minutes, plenty of time to travel 200 yards and back with at least 35 minutes to investigate. With your oxygen supply at plus 47 you have a three percent excess which is just over 210 minutes. I would say you are good to go." Even with the sudden discovery of possible alien life the man in the command module was calm and detached once he had a task to accomplish. Buzz Aldrin was more easily shaken but he hid it well.

"Who should go?" wondered the second man on the moon, "Should one of us stay here just in case there's trouble?"

"Are you worried about little green men with blaster guns, Buzz?"

"We have to consider they may not be friendly. What if they're Russians?" It was easier for the military man to buy into a Cold War battle then an interstellar conflict.

"No. The Russians are at least a decade behind us. The 'Space Race' we started in the 50's? They only won a single lap; we all know how the Five Year Plan ended. No, this spaceship does not come from around here and it's certainly not one of ours."

Neil picked up the binoculars and took another long look at the neighbors who just shouldn't be there. One of the fundamental questions of all time was about to be answered with a simple 'No, we are not alone'. The three men were military pilots first, engineers second, and scientists a distant third, there wasn't a lot of room left for philosophy. Their military training kicked into high gear.

"Neil, Buzz, what if they have weapons?"

"Well, it would certainly ruin a pretty good day." Buzz managed a smile as he remembered the conversation about firearms in the vacuum of outer space. Useless to bring a handgun with you unless you wanted to shoot someone inside the spacecraft. Where was Buck Rogers when you really needed him? How did anyone expect him to be a soldier without a weapon?

The military side of Commander Armstrong took control of the situation. He put the conflict into perspective, "We can't go at them with the attitude assuming they're hostile unless we're prepared to start a fight. We have nothing with us to fight a battle especially with an unknown enemy. I should go alone and investigate. As commander of this mission it's my responsibility." Neil put down the clipboard and binoculars. "There is a risk and as commander I can not reassign any risk to another crew member. If something does happen we still need to launch the LEM and get the samples and all the data back to Earth."

"Pardon me, commander, but you don't really think I would turn tail and run do you? Do you think I'd leave the first man on the moon behind? Look at it this way: you've already taken the first and greatest risk of this mission by taking the first step on to the moon. A second EVA should allow for the second crew member to go first."

The second man on the moon was only going to let that happen once. "This is not part of the mission. It's not something we ever contemplated. There's nothing in any of the training to deal with this. And I believe I've earned the right to go first this time." Buzz Aldrin, fighter pilot, may not have brought any weapons but he was ready for a battle now. This was no longer just an exploration of the moon, this trip had become a military recon and the best soldier was the one who should now take command.

So far everything had been by the book. Step by step they had followed the mission plan. The stress the scientists had been expected had been dealt with and the job was being done just the way they trained for it. But there is only so much errant stress a pilot can deal with before he's got to open a valve and release some pressure.

"Wait a minute, both of you; I've been spinning around the moon for several hours in this tin can. You want to talk about a lack of glory - let's start with me." Collins knew he had swallowed a bitter pill. To come so far and never touch the moon; what were his chances of ever being here again? "Without weapons, without training for this contingency, maybe we should wait for Return Of Signal and ask Houston for a decision. Listen to yourselves, you are two teenage bullies in a school yard. I don't think either of you are qualified to make this kind of choice. We need to wait for Return Of Signal and get instructions from NASA."

"It's almost twenty minutes away. What if the spaceship leaves before ROS?"

"Ok, what if the spaceship attacks before ROS?"

"Someone needs to get out there and check it out now." Buzz lifted the nine pound helmet off his seat and started to suit-up.

"Put your helmet down, Buzz. No one's going anywhere just yet." Neil took a step towards the airlock blocking his path. "And if anyone is going back out a second time it's going to be me."

Buzz Aldrin the fighter pilot took over for Buzz Aldrin the astronaut; Sybil would have been proud. Buzz rolled his right hand into a fist. He knew the padded gloves would cause little damage to any part of Neil he struck but it felt good to prepare for a fight. "Listen Neil, I've been putting up with your 'I'm the commander' attitude for over three years of training and mission time. I gave you first rights to the step on the moon but that's all over now. If one of us is to be the first man to contact an alien from outer space then I'm taking my turn. Put on your helmet and get out of the way so I can open the airlock."

Neil looked at his fellow moon walker and shook his head. "You know back in the days of sailing ships they would call this a mutiny. I could have you keelhauled for insubordination. Put your helmet on and stay here. I'm going out by myself."

He saw the punch coming and easily ducked out of the way. But Buzz Aldrin was unquestionably the stronger of the two men and just a bit more lithe even in a spacesuit. As he passed his commander, Buzz turned in the limited gravity and pushed off the cabin wall and launched himself towards his target. He flew across the small cabin striking Neil squarely in the chest. The blow knocked Armstrong to the cabin floor. Buzz came to rest sitting on his back.

"I'm not going to argue about this, sir. You are the first man on the moon; I intend to be the first man to meet an alien. I suggest you put your helmet on quickly. I'm locking mine now and I'll be opening the airlock door next." As he heard the airtight snaps lock into place on his pilot's helmet, Neil swiftly followed suit. The airlock wouldn't open until the cabin was depressurized and the short period would give him 15 seconds Aldrin hadn't counted on.

With his helmet now securely locked the only thing standing between historical glory and Buzz Aldrin was the airlock door. The radio crackled with life, "Tranquility, Columbia what's going on down there?"

"Nothing Michael, I'm going EVA at this time. Neil is going to hang back."

Neil matched the previously successful missile tactic, launching himself off the cabin wall opposite the airlock Buzz was preparing to open. He tackled the fighter pilot around the waist but the low gravity just spun him around. The sound of his helmet crashing into the circular latch of the airlock door was broadcast across the ISC so loudly, Collins had to hold his ears for a second. "What the hell was that?" he almost shouted back to the LEM.

"You are not going out there. I'm still in charge of this mission and you are floating into lunacy. Get a grip, Buzz!"

"No, commander, it's you who appears to be suffering from either hypoxia or an out of control ego. Step out of the way, sir."

"Buzz, sit the hell down. This is not your show."

"God damn it, Neil, this is bullshit. I've no intention of being second to you the rest of my life. I'm going first. Stay here if you want or follow me out the door but I'm going first."

"Are you guys nuts? What the hell are you doing?"

"Shut up Michael, you just drive our ride home. We'll handle this from down here."

"You know I could leave you two there and head home without you, right?"

"How would you explain it to the folks back home Michael?"

Again, Buzz lunged for Armstrong's head. Maybe if he could wrap a velcro strap around his neck and tie it off to a handhold he could get out the airlock door fast enough. Neil ducked and pushed Aldrin off his feet. The two astronauts fell to the cabin floor and rolled back and forth, two turtles trying to fight while lying on their backs. Above them Michael Collins wondered if maybe he should just leave the two of them and head home to safety.

The sound resembled an old crystal radio being tuned in to capture a distant station. The squeak and crackle grew louder until it became a squeal so loud the men grabbed their ears and tried to block it out. Neil and Buzz released the latches and threw their helmets to the deck. The sound was inside their heads now, louder and louder quickly reaching levels of pain none of them had ever experienced. Collins rolled out of his seat. The two lunar explorers fell to their knees screaming.

The piercing squeal came to a sudden stop. There was silence, total silence. Not even the sound of their breathing moved the astronauts' ear drums. From the floor of the Lunar Excursion Module Neil Armstrong, first man on the moon and Buzz Aldrin second man on the moon watched the small gray spacecraft liftoff from the lunar surface with a wagging tail of fire and head out into the star speckled darkness of space. Michael Collins, who would never be back this way again, saw the ship as a flashbulb in his eyes for a few seconds as it sped away into the distance. The three spacemen waited a few moments before they took a collective breath.

"Is it gone?" asked Buzz as his heart resumed a normal rhythm. He picked up the binoculars and searched the horizon through both windows.

"I can't see it from up here. There's a cloud of dust just floating above the surface but no flashing light, no spaceship. What are we going to tell Houston?"

"Nothing," replied the mission commander, "We tell them absolutely nothing about this. They'll lock us up in a rubber room and take our brains apart piece by piece looking for an anomaly. The rest of the world will start building arks and bomb shelters."

"But we all saw it, Neil. Plain as day, a ship from outer space was here on the moon. We all saw it."

"Nothing," insisted Armstrong, "We don't know what we saw. Michael you saw what you thought was a blinking light. We looked through dusty binoculars out dusty windows at what was probably just a rock outcropping and thought there was a spaceship. There was sunlight glinting off some chunk of lunar debris. And then we all witnessed a shooting star. That's what happened and we all agree on it right now or we spend the rest of our days trapped as a team of lab rats in cages."

Buzz looked at Neil Armstrong and nodded his head. Nothing made sense about this except the prospect of a world full of people waiting to hear the only truth they could accept. What had they really seen anyhow? Who would believe them if they told the truth? And wasn't it better to be the first and second men on the moon and not some odd third party? There was no spaceship; they had no proof, no photos, nothing to backup their story.

Collins looked out the porthole on Columbia's mid-deck at the stars in the distance for a few moments before he spoke, "All I can say for sure is what you guys tell me from down there. I thought there was a light. I was mistaken. I did see the shooting star and that's it. If you say it was just a rock outcropping and sunlight I'll take your word for it, Commander."

Neil sat down in the commander's chair and began throwing switches and turning dials. "Switching back to normal communications mode in three, two, one, now."

The on-board radio hissed and sputtered, "Tranquility, Houston: confirm ROS. Everything ok up there?"

"Houston, Tranquility: loud and clear. We're making preparations for lift off on this next orbit. All gear is stowed and secured for departure. We're ready to come home."

"Standby Tranquility, we may have you delay. We're looking at a satellite image we received about 10 minutes ago of something on the surface about two hundred yards off your number two window."

Published in Bewildering Stories - May 15, 2006