If you had to guess, you probably would come up with ten liters of sweat that ran over every single back in the NASA headquarter at this moment.
With overstrained and red eyes the personnel was staring at the giant screen covering almost the entire wall in front of them.
Only there was nothing to be seen; nothing except for a small red light, flashing every 5 seconds before fading away again.
You could hear every hard gulp out of over 50 throats, and even the slightest hawk sounded too loud in the tensed atmosphere.
Jackson, the operation’s leading astrophysicist, yanked on his tie for the dozenth time although it was already dangling losened around his massive neck, drenched in sweat like his shirt.
But nobody paid attention to the sweating, highly overweight man. Everyone was still staring at the red light.
It meant that the Rover’s camera was still in stand-by; which could bode anything at this point.
The most possible case (and most wished for) would have been that the Rover was still on his way to Mars.
And then there were thousands of horrible scenarios; The Rover had crashed on the surface while the camera had somehow been left intact or it had missed
its designated landing coordinates entirely and was drifting off into space, stuff like that.
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