“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 littleindiscretionin 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,ecstaticto 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?”
