"Brother, we're in!" cried Pfc. Walter Jones, in the head of the rocket. "Boy, the babes'll mob us after this. Real big shots, that's us. The men in the moon! Hah!"
"If we get back," Pvt. Robert Moore shouted over the roar. "Remember, we gotta get back yet."
"Chicken!" shouted Jones. "Chicken's what you are!"
"Oh yeah? So what happens to them guys what went before?"
"Nuts to that," Jones sneered. "I hear they's a lot of places up in space we don't know nothin' about, where there's maybe a lot of nice babes and buildings made out of gold and stuff like that."
"Scientists don't go much for babes," Moore said.
Jones kicked back in his seat, roaring laughter. "Hah! Don't kid yourself, son. Anyway, so what? So they get a chance to be kings, or somethin', on account of being from Earth. What do they do? They stay an' be kings, natch'!"
"It ain't for me," said Moore, moodily. "I know babes on good ol' Earth. An' who wants to be king?"
"That's what I'm tellin' you," Jones shouted. "We ain't got no worry at all. All we gotta do is not let them guys up there sidetrack us."
"I hope you're right," said Moore.