‘Nothing else?’
‘No. Nothing at all.’
‘Do you know where you are? Do you recognise any of it?’
Mikhail shook his head. Sally couldn’t help but be intrigued by him. This man had Mikhail’s looks — his hairstyle, his nose, his stubble, everything — but he remembered nothing. All this time she had been trying to communicate with UV One without success, and now — now it was communicating with her. There was no way Mikhail could have got on board without it. The thought made her heart leap, and she had to tell herself to calm down before she spoke again.
‘We’re in space,’ she told him.
He looked blank.
‘Space — in orbit. Not on Earth.’
‘I don’t know these things.’
‘Earth is home.’
At the word home, the last of the fear and rigidity in Mikhail’s body seemed to melt away. ‘Home…’ he repeated.
‘That’s right,’ Sally said, smiling. ‘Home.’
Mikhail smiled back, a boyish grin that gave his middle-aged features a wash of youth. Sally felt a rush of warmth at the thought of having someone to talk to again.
‘I know where you’ve come from,’ she said, watching to see how he reacted. ‘Where you’ve been all this time.’ She had always thought that an encounter like this would make her scared, or at least nervous, but she was neither of those things. She was excited.
‘Where?’
‘Do you remember the vessel? UV One? You could see it through the window where I found you in the MLM.’
Mikhail looked as though he was about to speak, but he didn’t. His grin faded, and he stayed silent.
‘You do remember, don’t you?’
He nodded. ‘Home.’
Although Mikhail seemed to know and understand very little, he caught on fast, and over the next couple of days he and Sally became something of a team. He helped her with her experiments, setting up the equipment and logging the results, as well as assisting with her daily housekeeping chores, which she was now able to do in half the time. He even livened up her exercise regime, which he joined her for. Explaining to him that he needed to exercise to stay healthy and fight off muscle atrophy took some doing, but he got it after a while and they laughed about it together afterwards as they got themselves something to eat.
‘It’s entirely true, I swear,’ Sally said through a mouthful of macaroni cheese. ‘I used to be a little fat kid.’
‘No way! I don’t believe it.’
‘All the other kids in school used to call me Fat Sally. Not a particularly original or creative nickname, granted, but it stuck with me for a long time.’
‘How’d you get slim again?’
‘We’ll, I’d like to say I joined a gym and got really healthy,’ Sally said, ignoring Mikhail’s confused frown at the word gym, ‘but I actually got so involved in my research that I just damn well forgot to eat. It’s amazing how hard it is to stay fat when you eat as little as I do.’
‘What do you research?’
‘Long-distance communications, mainly. NASA has me working on a little project to develop faster-than-light comms, but I don’t think it’s possible, at least not with any technology we have today. Made a few breakthroughs along the way, though. But what I really love doing is searching for life.’
Mikhail, whose pouch was halfway to his mouth, stopped. ‘Life?’
‘Yeah. Extra-terrestrial life. Aliens,’ she said, emphasising the last word with a wiggle of her fingers.
‘Am I an — alien?’ Mikhail asked, looking apprehensive.
The topic seemed to concern him; Sally could see his body language change almost in an instant. She felt a pang of sympathy: he was neither man nor alien. He was more like a confused and frightened boy. ‘Don’t let it worry you,’ she said. ‘You’re back, you’re safe, and that’s all that matters.’
He smiled again, and ate the rest of his macaroni cheese. His good humour soon returned as they tucked into dessert. ‘I like this,’ he said, squeezing the apple puree and breadcrumb mix into his mouth. ‘What is it? It’s really good.’
‘Apple pie. You should try the real thing. It’s much better.’
‘When? Now?’ Mikhail said, his eyes bulging at the idea.
Sally laughed. ‘No, not now. When they come and get us.’
‘They? They who?’
‘The RFSA and NASA, I suppose.’
Mikhail looked at his coveralls, at the logo on his chest. He pointed to it.
‘That’s it,’ Sally said, nodding.
‘What do they do?’
He was like an eager child, wanting and willing to learn about everything.
‘They send people like me and you into space to do research.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes — you’re a cosmonaut. A spaceman.’
Mikhail swelled with pride. ‘I am,’ he said, then squeezed some more apple pie into his mouth.
They cleared the table together. When they were finished, Sally led Mikhail through the station.
‘I’ve got something I’d like to show you,’ she said as they wormed their way through PMA One and into the American side. Ducking into Node Three, they surfaced in the Cupola, which was bathed in shadow. ‘Watch this,’ she said, and released the window coverings one by one. They fell away to reveal a view of blue, green and white: Earth.
‘It’s beautiful…’ Mikhail whispered, touching the glass with his fingertips.
‘That’s home,’ Sally said.
They looked out at it together, watching the clouds change shape and formation as they lazily navigated the globe. Sally hadn’t much thought of home since she’d been left up here, and she realised she missed it. She wasn’t sure what she missed about it, but whatever it was it left an aching hole in her chest.
The lobby was hot. Really hot. A wall-mounted fan arced back and fourth, but it did little to disperse the sweltering humidity. Sean approached the reception desk where a woman was sat reading a gossip magazine. ‘Hello?’ he said, trying to catch her attention.
She held up a finger, scanned through the rest of the page, then turned to Sean. ‘Yes?’
Her voice was familiar. Sean realised it must have been her he spoke to on the phone. ‘I’m here to see Ruth. Ruth Shaw.’ Sweat trickled down his neck, slow and sticky. The moment of truth had arrived.
‘And who might you be?’ the receptionist said, raising her eyebrows.
‘I’m her great-nephew,’ Sean lied. ‘I just flew in from Europe this morning, and I thought I’d pay her a visit.’
‘Is that so?’ the receptionist said, folding her arms. ‘I ain’t never seen you before.’
A scratch of metal on wood came from a doorway behind the reception desk, where a scrawny, sweaty man with a gleaming bald head now stood. ‘I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,’ he said, dabbing his brow with a grubby handkerchief. He put it in his pocket, and reached across the counter to shake Sean’s hand. ‘I’m Todd, I’m the manager here.’
‘Hi Todd,’ Sean said. ‘I’m Pete.’
‘Well, Pete — I’m afraid I have some bad news. Do you want to come into my office? We’ll get a bit more privacy in there.’
Sean followed Todd around the reception desk and into his office, feeling the receptionist staring a hole into his back. Todd shut the door and the temperature went up even further.
‘Please, have a seat,’ he said, directing Sean to the only chair in the room. Sean sat, and Todd leaned against his desk, which was covered in paper, mostly bills.
‘Did you have a pleasant flight over?’
Small talk before the heavy stuff, Sean thought, his stomach sinking. ‘Yes, thanks. A little cramped, but fine nonetheless.’