“I said no, Müller.”
“But–”
“Get out,” I shout. My arm shoots straight out, pointing at the exit.
He swallows, “You're angry.”
I laugh humourlessly.
“Ok, but I will be back,” he says before he ducks out of the open hatch.
Four months ago, I was fully committed to swearing off men. All men. Not just six-foot-tall, workaholic Germans with eyes the colour of soft tree moss and–
Stop getting distracted, Alex.
Two months ago, I would have sworn it was only a playful flirtation. Nothing serious. Idefinitelywon’t let one thinglead to another.
Now look at me, with my new lover introducing himself to my husband.Ex-husband. I can’t help but cringe at the word‘lover’, it implies so much more than sex.
“Nakonets,” Chelenko grumbles as he releases his welder to the worktop, adjusting the velcro to keep it in place before reaching across for the wire micro-cutters. The loud clatter brings me out of my mental spiral.
I turn my gaze to him, blinking. “What?”
“I said…” He pauses as he lifts his visor, a thick line of grime frames his surly face. “Finally.”
He gestures at the open hatch behind me, where Luca and Matthias were. “This why no women in space is better.”
“Pardon?” A harsh giggle burst out of me.
“Da. Is complication.” He waves a gloved hand at the space around us. “Up here… is better only men. No women.”
“With your sunny disposition, I’m sure your wife misses you something terrible. I bet she wishes she could come to space.”
He snorts. “I have no wife.”
“That makesa lotof sense.”
He frowns at my words but doesn’t say anything more. He simply grabs the wire cutters and reaches back into the cavity of the wall.
“Yeah, nice talking with you,” I mutter.
I lean on the countertop, ready to dive back into my work, when a low rumble sounds.
Quiet. Slow. Subtle.
I glance around the room, but all appears well. Probably nothing.
“Space rats.” I snort to myself.
I grip the counter’s edge and slide my legs under – that’s when I hear it.
A thousand tiny clinks.
The test tube housing is shaking, the small glass vials clattering beside one another. The magnetic inventory clipboard is dancing along the cabinet doors, the attached pen barely holding on for dear life.
What the fuck…
Metal rattles all around me. Glass beakers clink. The emergency lighting kicks in, bathing Columbus in an ominous green hue. My water sloshes inside its bag, churning like a tempest.
