The Countdown

Fire will spew across the sky. It hasn't happened yet, but in a minute, the atmosphere will be aflame, filling the surrounding air with a smokey fetor of fumes.

Ben peered at the wall clock. Make that fifty-five seconds.

With a deep breath, he stood up from his desk and walked over to the window, where nothing but the blinding sun and a vast blue ocean lay before him. He felt a pinch of anxiety gnawing at his insides. What if things went wrong? What if they didn't?

It'd been half a century since mankind had done anything like this. The world, or at least most of it, was holding its breath, waiting for the result. Failure meant his career, and by extension, his life, was over.

He shook the thought from his head, reminding himself that it was bad luck to anticipate disaster. Everyone in his department gave credence to the superstition, even if they weren't superstitious believers. That was just how his line of work was.

Inadverdently, Ben's gaze drifted to the clock again. Forty seconds.

Stepping back from the window, he rubbed the sweat from his palms into the fabric of his trousers. Even though the Command Center was comfortably cool, he was perspiring heavily.

Nerves.

There was no way to avoid them. The stakes were too high, and the consequences too grave. Lives were depending on him.

A gentle chime from his computer interrupted the silence and grabbed his focus.

The thirty-second mark.

If he had any intention of calling off this operation, now would be the ideal moment to do so.

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Ben walked back to his desk and sat down, his tired eyes fixated on the screen of his computer. He methodically scanned every detail to ensure things were in order, learning that nothing's changed since the last thirty times he'd done it.

A fire in the sky was happening then.

With a last glance at the clock, Ben pulled his phone toward him, his pointer finger hovering over the intercom button.

Just as the timer dipped to the single digits, he unmuted the com.

"...nine...eight..." Ben's heart pounded in his chest. The tension was palpable as he listened to his crew counting down in unison through the intercom, number by number, second by second.

"...six...five..." Their voices resonated through the small speaker, each word filled with eager anticipation. It was a testament to their dedication. They were a well-oiled machine, and this undertaking couldn't be possible without all of them.

"Four...three..." Ben's mind raced with a mix of nerves and elation. This was the moment he had been preparing for- the culmination of years of planning and hard work.

"Two...one..."

Finally, the moment of truth arrived.

Without hesitation, Ben pressed the intercom speaker button. "Initiate," he commanded, his tone steady and controlled, disguising the uncertainty building in the back of his throat.

All eyes turned to the sky as they waited for the event that'd signify the mission's success or failure.

With bated breath, Ben swept his gaze heavenward, a silent prayer on his lips.

A predicted rumble shook the ground as smoke began to suffuse the horizon, a white miasma presaging the impending flames.

In the next instant, the USS Pheonix launched into the sky, its pointed tip piercing the heavens and a bright, fiery tail depicting a flaming blade dragging behind it.

A safe and efficacious embarkment.

The room erupted into cheers, and Ben allowed himself a small smile of triumph, which grew when he heard the voice of the USS Pheonix Captain's voice come in.

"Launch Control, we have liftoff. Next stop; the other side of the Moon."