Page 4 of A Long Way Home

“Done.”

I can feel my crew carepackage calling to me.

Gerda likes to send me homemade Lebkuchen – these buttery spiced biscuits that I used to devour each and every Christmas – even though I haven't been her daughter-in-law for over three years now. I should protest. But not when she effortlessly slipped into the role of mother after I lost my own. Gerda kept me together when all I wanted to do was fall apart – a kindness I can never repay.

It’s nice to feel loved. To be doted on - even if only for one delicious biscuity moment.

“Soyuz, this is ISS. Respond.”Clayton’s voice echoes through the station’s halls.

“ISS, this is Soyuz. Confirm clamps are in place?”A woman’s voice responds, heavy with an accent.

“Yuri?”

“On my way.”

The comms relay should be in the correct position for a long-distance call home in just a few hours. I’ll call Gerda with thanks and let her regale me with tales of her new life in the retirement village, and the spicy gentleman neighbour vying for her attention. They bonded over their mutual green thumbs and a love of homegrown veggies. She provides freshly made potato pancakes, and he supplies the homemade apple cider.

Enthused with happy thoughts of somewhat freshly baked goods, I tear my eyes away from the magnificentview and pull myself up out of the Cupola. I’m halfway to Command Control when I reach the mating anchor.

Yuri is a step ahead of me, his bare feet poking out the bottom of his grey joggers and paired with a once-white t-shirt that’s likely never seen an iron a day in its life. He’s criminally underdressed, especially when compared to my royal blue flight suit – although the blue isn’t looking as crisp and regal as it once did.

“Yuri? We have visitors.”Clayton calls out.

“Working on it, Boss.”

Sliding a palm down the front of my flight suit, I aim to straighten out any wrinkles but give up after one particularly ingrained crease immediately returns.

“Soyuz connected. Clamps secured,” Yuri’s deep voice sounds off as his clever hands work.

“Clamps secured,” Clayton repeats.“Ready for hatch opening.”

“Soyuz ready.” They confirm.

“Welcome to the International Space Station.”

“Glad to be here.” She replies.

It might seem like he’s a glorified doorman to Earth’s most exclusive hotel, but in reality, Yuri is probably the best of us up here. He was part of the team that designed the new Artemis space suits and is currently working on new airlock systems that create a tighter seal, keeping both us and breathable air inside the station, and the cold, endless expanse firmly outside.

I drift through the corridor, pulling myself over the strapped-down crates along the floor, and come to a stop before tucking my feet under the handholds to stabilise myself.

Yuri pulls away the metallic dome and stares at the probe. “When will they upgrade this?” he mutters to himself.

“Yuri?” I tap my foot against the metal handhold.

He glances over at me, his face cracking into a wide grin. “Ready?” he asks from the soon-to-be doorway.

This hatch is the only thing standing between me and my long-awaited snacks.

Nodding, I clench my toes tighter inside my socks, as if that will do anything to keep my feet tucked firmly under the bar and closer to the floor, although floor, wall, and ceiling are all relative in the absence of gravity.

Yuri has his feet tucked under the hand bar on the wall behind me as he stretches horizontally across the main corridor that connects most of the station to its various modules.

There’s a small breeze across my cheek, a faint suction of air from the module, but as I turn about, everything is as it should be. The straps along the walls hold strong. The storage crates are still secured beneath the bungee straps. My long brown hair continues to float straight up, fanning out around me.

“Piece of fudge.” Yuri throws me a thumbs up over his shoulder, and I take in a slow inhale.

“Cake.” I correct.

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