Johnny Nine felt a lump in his throat. "Yes, sir!"
"Hello, Flight One. We can approach you to a thousand meters."
Marte helped him into his suit. Her fingers fluttered nervously.
"Three days, Johnny. Three days! It's not bad luck to say it anymore. Only three more days and we'll be Home!"
Johnny Nine worked the hermetically sealed helmet swivel. His movements were stiff.
"Three days."
"And then—"
"Marte, I love you."
"Of course you do, but say it again."