Page 3

CHAPTER TWO

I etch it into memory. Taking one last, lingering moment to gaze over the Earth. This may be the last chance I get to see our home in all its giant, polished-marble glory.

“Soyuz aligned,” Aiko calls out through the comms.

In my periphery, I spot grey metal blotting out my view of the solar arrays that stretch out like golden wings from the station’s core.

“Ease it in slowly,” Clayton says.

Through the viewing glass I see the Soyuz docking, the domed tip jutting straight out into space. I feel the vibration as it connects with the station’s docking module.

Clayton’s run me ragged in recent weeks, so I never did check the crew manifest updates. Between my resistant materials experiments and performing some much-needed upgrades, work has kept me busy. Besides, I’m more interested in the cargo.

“ Good work, Y’all ,” Clayton says. “ Matherson, patch Soyuz into our comms .”

“ Done .”

I can feel my crew care package 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 magnificent view 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.

“Ah, but fudge is nicer,” he laughs, his hands checking over the mating node.

This has always been the most nerve-wracking part for me. It’s a lot easier to stomach when you’re the one inside the docking shuttle, still fresh from Earth and excited to get onboard. At least that's what I tell myself.

“Peake?” Yuri calls me.

“Ready,” I confirm, nodding as he twists the probe and pulls it out of the way of the now airtight connection between the station and the Soyuz.

“Today I am blessed, for the agencies send me beautiful ladies.”

Yuri reaches through to grab a hand, helping pull out a woman, brunette, French, according to the flag patch on the shoulder of her white spacesuit. He raises an eyebrow, shooting me a grin before he starts the whole Yuri spiel.

“Yuri Volkov,” he bows. “I am here to, how you say, service you.”

She pulls off her helmet with a chuckle, flicking her hair to the side, though it’s defying both her and gravity right now.

“Pesquet. Botanist,” she offers her still-gloved hand to Yuri’s outstretched one. He takes it, kissing the back .

“That makes sense. You’re making parts of me grow,” he winks.

I roll my eyes. HR would eat Yuri alive if we were back home in England. But I can’t fault the guy for trying. The life of an astronaut can be a lonely affair; my own little indiscretion in recent months is an anomaly.

My lips part in surprise when Pesquet laughs as he taps his homemade sign taped above the corridor leading to Central Command and welcomes her to ‘ Yuri’s Kingdom ’.

Perhaps Yuri’s luck is on the rise. Good for him, he could do–

“Well, fuck.”

“Right here?” Yuri asks.

“Excuse-moi?” Pesquet spins to face me.

“Buy drink first,” he winks at Pesquet. “Am I right?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” I murmur.

Yuri’s luck might be on the up and up, but mine is definitely hitting rock bottom. Making his own way out of the Soyuz, still in his white spacesuit complete with a black, red and gold flag, is a ghost from my past.

His moss-green eyes cast about, searching until they meet mine. His lips turn up into a wide smile as he pulls the rest of himself through the hatch, his boot catching on the rim before he yanks it through behind him .

There was one person I was glad to leave back on Earth – no, ecstatic to leave behind – and he’s only bloody followed me up here.

His gaze dances over me. His lips are moving fast, but no sound is breaching his suit.

“I can’t hear you,” I tap my ear, attempting to steel my expression to one of indifference, and ignoring the butterflies rising in my stomach. They should be long dead, and yet the zombie butterflies keep stirring, causing flutters.

Realisation dawns on him as he reaches for the suit console, thumbing the buttons.

“ Moin ,” his face breaks out into a wide grin. “ Lang nicht gesehen, mein Herz. ”

“What the fuck are you doing here Müller?” I snap.

His mouth drops, his thick brown brows pulling into a frown. As if he would expect me to react any other way to his ambush.

“Spit it out,” Folding my arms across my chest to form a protective shield, I flare my eyes at him pointedly, trying to harness the deep gut-wrenching anger I should be feeling – but it doesn’t come.

“You never answered my calls?” he offers. Nervously, his eyes dart over to Yuri and then Pesquet – both of whom are helping another white suit navigate out through the hatch – and then his eyes are back on me .

“I did,” I grit out. “Did you not think three years of radio silence was my answer?”

Even through the suit you can notice his shoulders droop, his arms dropping to his sides in defeat, and I could swear his eyes start to glisten. But that can’t be right. Must be the harsh artificial overhead lighting playing tricks. He is the most stubborn son of a bitch I know.

“Defeatism doesn’t suit you.”

“You wanted grand gestures.” His hand glides through the space between us, gesturing over himself before dropping by his side again. “Here I am.”

“Grand gestures?” I fight to keep the rising hysteria out of my voice. “Maybe three years ago. It’s too late. I don’t want th–”

“Let's keep comms clear. We can save the personal chit-chat for later,” Clayton barks out – a fantastic reminder that everyone on board can hear a one-sided play-by-play of Müller airing our dirty laundry.

Heat rises in my cheeks, embarrassment mingling with the anger that finally rises inside me, but he looks unphased and as effortlessly handsome as he always did.

My stomach flips at the sight of him, and I find myself torn between throttling him and embracing him.

That sends the zombie butterflies into another frenzy low in my stomach .

“I didn’t mean this. I don’t… Argh.” I bite my tongue, not wanting to unleash a torrent of harsh words upon him.

Müller knocks off his comms – too little, too late – before reaching up to open the visor on his suit.

“Alex, you must have expected this. You can’t just send divorce papers out of the blue.”

I glare at him. Is he bloody insane ?

“Who pops up on the first shuttle to argue it out with their ex about bloody divorce papers?” Fucking Matthias Müller. That’s who. I scoff. “And it was hardly out of the blue.”

“Alex, we need to discuss…”

I hold a hand up between us.

“This isn’t happening.”

“ Mein Herz…”

“I wanted space! Why do you think I’m out here? You’re a physicist, figure it out! ”

“Theoretical physicist,” he corrects.

“Exactly! Weave your little theories in your head back down on Earth and leave me alone.”

I want to hit him. I want to shove him back into the shuttle and pretend he isn’t here.

Instead, I clench my fist and push past him, our shoulders colliding as I grab the first of the supplies to be unloaded from the Soyuz and start steering it toward the Leonardo module to dump with the rest of the station’s supplies.

My fingers grip at the thick seat belt-like straps, tightening until I’m white-knuckled.

As I pass by the entrance to the mess area, both Anderson and Aiko shoot me a look of concern. I never was one for successfully hiding my emotions. My face is an open book. I ignore them and the increasing throb in my shoulder.

I cannot believe the gall of him, the audacity, upending my peaceful existence. I left the house, the country, and the damn planet. Is it too much to ask for space?

Literal space.

“Whoa, Kiddo.” I'm steadied by two large hands.

I’m so inside my own head that I bump clean into Clayton before I even notice his presence.

“Kid?” He takes the crate from me, pushing it down to Matherson waiting below.

She lines up the supplies along the walls, velcroing down supply bags and strapping down anything larger.

“I’m good,” I reply numbly, my eyes slowly refocusing on him.

His flight suit is even more worse for wear than mine, with the broken zipper only half pulled up and his vest peering through. Guess we’ve both been up here too long.

“ I could really do with some fresh air.” If only I could open a window.

An unhinged laugh escapes me as I picture myself opening the nearest window, and the whole crew is dragged out into the vacuum of space.

Clayton gives a brief, awkward laugh.

Chancing a glance over my shoulder, I see Yuri console Müller with a pat on the shoulder whilst they watch me. Müller’s mouth drops open to speak. Nipping whatever that was about to be straight in the bud, I cut him off with a curt shake of my head and turn back to Clayton.

Behind me, I hear a “Pfft. Women. Am I right?” and I can already picture the accompanying wink with Yuri’s words. I don’t even attempt to hide my eye roll.

“This isn’t going to cause problems,” Clayton cocks his head, one brow raising at my silence, quickly transitioning into Commanding Officer mode. “Is it?”

A sigh leaves me, and I shake my head, “No, Sir.”

He places one hairy, burly hand on my shoulder, leaning in closer as he lowers his voice, “You okay, Kiddo?”

“I’ll be… Müller is…” I huff out a breath, clenching my fists by my side as a new resolve spreads through me. “It won’t cause any issues.”

I won’t allow it to .

“I’m out of here on the next shuttle down. Twenty-four hours and it’s Cheerio. I’ll be back on Earth.” …and he’ll be stuck up here for at least a couple months, if not longer. One can hope.

“Good, we don’t need conflict between the crew,” he gives my shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll ready the descent module and get you back on solid ground in no time. Leave Matty to me. I see about keeping him busy.”

I sigh a breath of relief. “Thanks. I’ll stay out the way.”

He purses his lips, nodding slowly, “Take five, then Chelenko needs some help.”

I nod again, slowly coming to a realisation that the next twenty-four hours are going to be the painfully slowest of my life. But first, I need to focus on the now.

Chelenko needs help.

Right, he needs help like I need a hole in the head, and he enjoys company about as much as I would enjoy said hole in the head. But he usually keeps out of the way of the others – the way he likes it – so that is where I’m being sent.

Out of the way.