The intercom fizzled in my ear. I tapped the side of my helmet, allowing the message to come through again.
"Ground Control to Major Tom. Commencing countdown, engines on."
I confirmed the engines were in the start-up phase. I triple-checked my restraints as the intercom's tinny voice announced the moments until liftoff.
Ten. It would only be a few more days until I would be able to see my wife again. Nine. After a 3-year mission on the moon, I would finally place my feet on God's green Earth. Eight. Provided, I would probably have to go through a good amount of physical therapy to build up my leg muscles again. Seven. I would probably be quarantined for a few days as well. Six. After 3 years in space, NASA would be biting to run tests on me. Five. Yes, I was the last-ditch effort to keep the space program running. Four. The white-coats wanted a brave and hardy soul to live on the moon for an extended period of time. Three. Sendin