Page 8 of A Long Way Home

She has a self-assured air about her, from the way she holds herself down to the cropped pixie cut she’s sporting.

“Allons y.” She tows a crate of carefully secured potted saplings behind her.

“Let me.” Yuri flexes his muscles, waggling his eyebrows at her.

“Is zero-G,non?” She rolls her eyes, motioning for Yuri to lead her on. “Take me to the Kibo module.”

There goes my privacy - I’d all but moved into the Japanese-built lab. It has peace, quiet and a spare toilet, which beats queuing for the ‘master bathroom’ over by the crew cabins in Harmony. I guess Luca and I will have to find new sleeping arrangements. Cupola might work; the view was certainly nice to wake up to this morning–

Bloody hell. How am I going to explainMüller to Luca?

We are only having fun, but I should still give him a heads up that my ex-husband has stopped by for a visit.

I hear a gasp as the final crewmate emerges from the Soyuz. The new girl has a dewy look to her saucer-wide eyes. Her mouth drops open, blonde pigtails swishing as her eyes arc around the module, pausing to take in each minuscule nut and bolt.

Medic is a safe bet. Her left shoulder sports a red and white first aid cross patch, Canadian flag on the right, plus there’s an oversized medic’s duffel bag floating a little behind her.

“First time up here?” I ask. “The Station has that effect.”

She nods at my words.

Sterile metal makes up most of the rounded walls. Each module is lined with storage lockers and strapped down supplies like a hoarder’s paradise. There are computer screens and cables trunking everywhere and not forgetting the continuous droning hum coming from the older Russian modules.

Hell, even the weightlessness.

“Takes a bit of getting used to.” I smile, “Wait till you see the view.”

Her eyes alight with excitement. “Why do you think I’m up here?” she laughs.

Boy is it a magnificent view.

Just the right amount of awe to both take your breath away and leave you feeling as insignificant as the floating dust motes yet to be filtered out by the air recyclers.

“Alex.” I offer her my hand.

She grasps it, “Callie.”

I point behind me. “Cupola module. Make it your first stop.”

Her eyes crinkle as a huge, toothy grin spreads across her face. “Yes, Ma’am.”

I ignore the others – the green around the gills newbie, the flirty brunette, my ex-husband and his sour-faced friend – and carry right on past them into the communal kitchen area.

“GCR is high,” Matherson huffs out a breath.

“How high?” Anderson has some noodles poised to slurp as he listens to her talk about fluctuations in the cosmic background radiation.

“Too high,” she says as she aggressively taps at her datapad, her brow in a permanent frown. “Let’s hope it’s just another fried circuit in the sensors.”

“What’s the worst it could be? Solar flare? Aliens?” he smirks.

The microwave beeps.

She sighs, “Alright, smartass.”

“It’ll keep until after meal break.” Anderson gulps down a mouthful of udon, slurping loudly. The microwave beeps again. “Don’t keep Chef Mike waiting.”

“Sir, yes, Sir.” She mock salutes, gliding towards the microwave. A slight sulphurous smell escapes as she opens the door.

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