A/N: An epilogue to the 2000 movie "Space Cowboys".

Having a Seat

Frank Corvin sat in his living room listening to a Fats Waller record with his eyes closed. In his imagination it was his hands tickling the ivories, not Fats, as he followed along with the melody. Lost in the music, his mind didn't register the first set of knocks on the front door. It wasn't until the action was repeated more loudly that he realized there was someone trying to get his attention; leaving the music playing, he got up from his chair and slowly walked down the short hallway to answer - his advanced years effectively putting a governor on the gait he had as a younger man. The doorbell rang before he could quite reach for the knob, but the effect was as though he had been waiting behind the door to spring it open when a visitor finally pushed the button.

"Um, Colonel Corvin?" one of the two uniformed men asked as he started to salute before he hesitated, waiting for confirmation. He was expecting someone - bigger.

"That's me, Captain" Frank replied in his gravely voice after immediately recognizing the rank of the Air Force officer. A quick glance revealed the other as a Lieutenant. "Please don't try to tell me you need me to go back into space again. This bird ain't leavin' the ground anymore."

"No sir. Captain Glen Folmer" he said, introducing himself. "Sir, may Lt. Harper and I come in?"

"Sure. Wipe your feet and close the door behind you" Frank acknowledged as he turned to go back into the house. The younger men did as they were told, then followed the music into the living room where the retired Air Force colonel bent over and turned down his music. He returned his attention to his visitors and saw that they had found their way to him; at least the Air Force training wasn't completely crap yet. "How can I help you gentlemen?"

Lt. Harper looked around the room while Folmer spoke. "Sir, as you may be aware NASA has been conducting ground surveys around the area of Lunar Base One."

"No, I wasn't. But if you're going to build a fort out in the middle of nowhere, you should check for Indians first."

"Sir?"

"Nothing, Captain. Just a little Old West joke."

"Oh. Yes. Anyway, during one of our recent surveys we encountered the crash site of the Soviet IKON satellite. I believe you're familiar with it, sir?"

"You might say that" Frank said wryly. He and his crew of five other astronauts had been recruited to take a space shuttle up to the old communications satellite that had been in danger of falling out of orbit. Once there, they had found that it actually contained nuclear warheads set to launch on America if it ever fell out of orbit - a leftover of the cold war space race. He and his fellow reactivated astronauts Hawk Hawkins, Jerry O'Neill and Tank Sullivan had managed to boost the satellite safely away from Earth at the cost of Hawkins life as he personally guided the hardware away from Earth on a one-way ticket. He had boasted to Frank that he was heading for the moon. That had been twenty years ago.

"Very good. Well sir, we encountered the remains of Colonel Hawkins nearby. Based on evidence we found, he survived the landing for a period of time. We found a single set of footsteps that led away from the crash site to where his body was found, sitting against a rock formation."

"So Hawk made it. At least one of us got there - it would have to be him. But if anyone could have done that, it would have been Hawk" Frank said, his voice becoming even a little more rough than normal.

"Yes sir. There was a recording he made; I think he meant for you to hear it. I've brought a copy."

"Did you put it onto vinyl?" Frank asked, indicating a display of classical jazz records.

"A vinyl recording?" the captain asked, confused.

Frank enjoyed his confusion and unease, but let him off the hook quickly. "Just kidding, Captain. Did you burn it on a CD or use a memory card?"

"Memory card, sir." The lieutenant produced a small manila envelope and gave it to the captain who handed it to Frank.

"Thank you captain. Anything else?"

"No sir. We were told to drop off the recording and leave."

Frank gave a half-salute. "Mission accomplished. Go back and get your medal, boys. Dismissed. Close the door on your way out and don't let it hit you in the ass." Not knowing what else to do, the two men turned and filed out of the house. Frank waited until he heard the door pulled shut before he opened the envelope. Inside was a memory card in a small plastic container; there was a handwritten note that read 'Last recording of Colonel William Hawkins'. Frank took the card out of the holder and inserted it into his music console, at which point the music that had been playing stopped. Frank adjusted the volume and sat down to listen.

A female voice started speaking. "The following is a recording of the last communication from Colonel William Hawkins, United States Air Force, recovered from his person on the surface of the moon..." there followed some coordinates the meant nothing to Frank, along with the date. "Contents have been verified and authenticated as the voice of Colonel Hawkins. Recording follows." There was a brief silence and then Frank recognized the voice of his friend as he sat down in his chair.

If I hit the right damn button it means you can hear me right now. Not back home, because I can't push enough juice through the radio to make it that far without some type of antennae. So let's just assume you're gonna hear this some day years after I'm gone, unless you blow up the damn planet before you get around to sending some more people up here in which case I extend my greetings to whatever aliens stumbled upon our ruined civilization.

I made it. I was able to crash land the IKON on the moon after getting it away from Earth, and they say any landing you can walk away from is a good one. Nowhere to go mind you, so I'm just going to go over to that rock and get comfortable. The sound of breathing could be heard during the recording, along with a few grunts. Tell the guys back home that the suit held up pretty good; I took a tumble when I touched down but it held together. Ah, this looks good. Let me look around for a moment...stars...sun...I wonder where the moon went? Just kidding. I think I'll be having a seat here.

There was a series of grunts and at last a sigh. The way I figure it, unless a micrometeorite takes me out I'm either going to run out of air or freeze. From what they taught us in survival school, I think I'll take the latter. I'm switching off my heater...if I can...just...reach...that's it. Okay, now the clock is ticking folks and it's the two-minute warning. Anyone who's seen a football game recently knows it takes a lot longer than two minutes to run the clock out, so we'll see how long before the pistol goes off. First of all, I have a message for Bob Gerson. You're a sonofabitch Bob, just wanted you to know that. I'd tell you in plainer language but I'm afraid it might stunt the growth of some of our youngest flyers who might be hearing this.

There was a very subtle blip sound occasionally that Frank recognized as Hawk turning his mic on and off. There was no telling how long he recorded in total.

Frank, Jerry, Tank...you guys are the best. Wow, my ass is starting to get cold. Sorry about that; anyway, I'm glad we all got our chance to go into space finally. I don't know how you will end up doing it, but if anybody can get you back home safe it's Frank. Second-best pilot I know. Guess that makes you the best on Earth, now. Make sure they give you guys a Corvette.

I have to confess Jerry; rollercoasters scare the hell out of me. Whippin' around without any control over where you're going makes me want to crap in my pants - I don't know how the hell you do it. I think that's why I became a pilot - that and the girls, of course.

Tank, this may surprise you but I've read the Bible. When that trumpet call comes do you think I'll get a head start being out here? Ask your congregation that and step back.

Anne, I wish there was more time but even if I had come back down there I wouldn't have much left and you deserve more than what I can give. If the autopsy shows the doctors were wrong then I'm gonna be posthumously pissed.

There was a period of breathing; Hawk probably forgot to turn off his mic.

The Earth sure looks beautiful up there, Frank. I'm trying to see Texas but there's cloud cover over it; I can see California though. If I was in shadow right now I'd see better without the faceplate shading, but I think it's just about the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I can see why those Apollo guys had a hard time trying to describe it.

Feeling colder now. This is where I'm supposed to dictate my last will and testament but I don't care at this point. You guys figure it out, I've got one somewhere at home. Speaking of, do you think maybe they'll make a statue of me somewhere?

I can't move my legs now, so I guess it won't be long. Gotta sign off with something catchy. Bury me here where it was my destiny to be, and do NOT make an exhibit of me.

Damn it, I can't scratch my nipple it really itches. Oops. Oh hell, that can't be my last words - now I have to come with something even better. How did that poem go again? Hills of Earth...green...birth...hmmm hmmm oh yeah.

Out ride the sons of Terra,
Far drives the thundering jet,
Up leaps a race of Earthmen,
Out, far, and onward yet -

We pray for one last landing
On the globe that gave us birth;
To rest our eyes on the fleecy skies
And the cool, green hills of Earth.

There was a long silence interrupted by several blips and then the female voice returned. "End of recording."

Frank sat for some time, then stood up and walked over to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a scotch and toasted the sky. "Until we fly together again, old friend."

The End

A/N: We know the final fate of Hawk from the ending of the movie - they could have left it ambiguous but they didn't. But the man obviously had some time left at the end, so I wondered how he would have ended it. This is not necessarily a faithful imagining of what it would actually be like, but that's what artistic license is for.

The poem is an excerpt from Robert A. Heinlein's "Green Hills of Earth" short story. Also, I wonder if the writers intentionally made Hawk's final place as a homage to RAHs short story "Requiem". Huh.