Word Count: 219
It seemed to be taking forever. Waiting for clearance for liftoff. The hours of delay. The months and final weeks of preparation for this first trip to Mars.
He squirmed a bit in his seat. Radioed for clearance to unbuckle and float. His back was kinked into position. His legs starting to doze into sleep.
He felt better as soon as he stretched, bounced around, touching off walls. Had a snack with mission control’s reluctant permission. Sat back down, refreshed, settled in.
It still seemed to be taking forever. The planet no longer in view. They confirmed they’d had to make one small adjustment, realignment. No problem, no worry, they said.
He was the first, was the most trusted, the most experienced astronaut they’d been willing to send. He knew the dangers as well as he’d known the controls. Still, it seemed so much longer to get there than planned. They told him that was all right. Joked about light years and referred to the extra time spent on the pad.
Shouldn’t we tell him? the second man in control on the ground asked the first.
How long will the oxygen hold? was the reply.
Not much longer, an hour, maybe two…
He’ll just go to sleep. We can’t fix it now and it’s better that he’ll never know.
