Sitting motionless for ten minutes straight, Connelly found her palms to be unusually sweaty. Her stomach churned like she'd eaten a cup of butter and her mouth was painfully dry.  The symptoms, at first, seemed similar to an anxiety attack. But Connelly's past anxiety had been brought on by simple choices. She had once stood in front of the banana display at the grocery store for fifteen minutes, frantically trying to choose which bunch was best. There was one with five bananas, but they were too small, one with four, but they were too big, and the bunch with five that were just the right size, were too green.

Thinking about her current situation, waiting in the command center, killing time until TES was launched, Connelly knew that this was not a banana episode.  She decided to chalk it up to nerves and pushed the subject to the recesses of her mind. Wiping her damp hands on her jumpsuit, Kathy sat up straighter and asked, "How much longer?"

Harris spun around in his console chair. A wide grin was stretched across his face. "Deployment is prepped. We're ready if you're ready."

Connelly felt her stomach stir. She tightened her stomach muscles and bit her lip for a moment.

Why am I so nervous? What am I afraid of?

"Ready," Connelly said, and then looked at Robert, who was seated with Peterson and Willard at a six foot, round table at the center of the room. "Ready?"

"Ah, yes…I've been ready for the past ten hours," Robert said with a grin. Connelly noticed his legs were bouncing nervously. Robert saw Connelly's eye on his legs. "I can't help it. I'm nervous."

Right there with you, Connelly thought.

She stood and shook her hands out, willing the nervousness out of her body. She rolled her shoulders and walked to Harris's side. "What are the chances of anything going wrong?"

The question was meant as space filler—something to occupy her mind. But the way Harris's fingers froze over the keyboard and the suddenness with which he held his breath, told Connelly that it was a loaded question. Harris turned to her and sighed. "You really want to know?"

"I—I guess," Connelly said.

"Cause you look nervous," Harris said with a sympathetic glance.

"I do?"

Harris nodded. "Look, I'm the best there is. I wouldn't be here otherwise. If I can't get this baby to set down on the ice without a hitch, no one can."

Connelly forced a smile.

Harris took her hand and squeezed it. "Just sit back and enjoy the show." Harris pulled a remote from his pocket, pointed it at the ceiling and pushed the button. After turning a hazy white, the ceiling became transparent, revealing Europa.

Connelly instantly felt her apprehension fade away, replaced by a sense of wonder she thought could never fade, no matter how many times she saw this view.  Connelly took a seat next to Willard.