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“Crew quarters,” Mark said. “Individual sleeping huts. It’s like camping in an elevator, but at least it gives us some privacy, which is a blessing up here. You’ll see.” He grabbed his duffel and pushed off gently towardUnity. “Let me show you around.”
Harmonywas at the far end of the American half of the station. Branching offHarmonyto the left and right were the Japanese lab and theColumbuslab. Each was the size of a bus and stuffed to the brim with computers, monitors, lab kits, experiment cubbies, redundant equipment, and a million other pieces of gear. In orbit, without gravity, there was no up or down, and even though Sasha had trained in the ISS simulator and had spent a thousand hours in the mockup at JSC, there had always been ground on Earth. A down. A definite orientation.
Now, every surface inside the ISS was functional, every inch usable space. Footholds and handholds were on each bulkhead, and what was the floor could easily be a wall the next moment.
He was blinded by white. Everything was white, pristine and pure like snow. There was no dust, no dirt, no grime in space, and even the dead skin cells sloughed off by the crew were sucked up by the air filtration system.
He pushed off slowly—too slowly, and had to pull himself along the bulkhead—and followed Mark down the main tunnel towardUnity. He tumbled, bouncing into the walls—jagged and studded with instrument panels, screens, toggles, and gear stowage—and his duffel snagged on an airlock handle as they floated down the stack. Finally, he followed Mark into theDestinylab and spun on his back like he was underwater, trying to take it all in.
He was surrounded by—encased in—a jumble of technology and electronics. Miles of wires were bundled along the bulkheads, panels and display screens stretched in every direction, and experiments in lab boxes lined almost every available inch. Laptops dangled from all four walls on fixed mounts, and what looked like a laptop sticking down from the ceiling from one angle was simply on the port wall to an astronaut floating in from another hatchway.
On one bulkhead, Sasha spotted a space bike strapped to the hull. From his perspective it looked like it was biking straight vertically, heading for the stars. They had to exercise two hours a day or their muscles would atrophy and their bones would turn brittle. Somewhere else in the station there would be a treadmill with straps to hold them down as they ran in zero g. Resistance training was all the rage, he’d heard through the rumor mill.
“Here's one of the toilets,” Mark said, pointing to what looked like an upside-down bucket with a pot lid on it and a hose with a funnel the size of Sasha’s head. It was, worryingly, out in the open.
“No door?”
Mark pulled a retractable quilted barrier across the opening and velcroed it to the bulkhead. It wasn’t a door, and it left the astronaut’s feet and head exposed, but at least no one would be watching while Sasha lined up both cheeks and his hole for a perfect seal. “We leave it open when it’s unoccupied. And—” Mark turned to two giant metal doors on the toilet’s left. Something hummed and buzzed inside, machinery working away. “This is our oxygen plant. We pull oxygen out of the H2O that condenses on the station, and—” He grinned. “From our urine. So it’s a nice short trip for the plant to have the toilet next door.”
Sasha stared. Mark chuckled. “Honestly, it’s helpful to have this next door when you’re getting used to the food up here and you don’t want the whole station to hear your digestive distress.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
As Mark guided Sasha through theDestinymodule, Phillipa broadcastIndependence’smission over the station’s intercom, the play-by-play of Michaela and Jim arguing for their way with Houston’s Mission Control.
Sarah, a veteran of two ISS missions, must have found a radio in theHarmonymodule and plugged in to the loop. Sasha heard her voice over the station’s intercom next. “Houston, this is Sarah. If Jim can get me a visual on the source of the radiological readings, that will significantly help our EVA tomorrow.”
“We’re picking up increased neutron readings every time we fly beneath that thing.” Michaela Fairclough was a NASA legend. An unstoppable force, an inexhaustible, brilliant mind… and a grit and determination that got her into several full-throated shouting matches with Chris, Erica, and Roxanne. Sasha had heard the joke more than once:Michaela was commanding the Lunar Gateway because that was as far from Houston as they could send her. For now.
“All right, Jim,” Roxanne said with a sigh, speaking directly through CAPCOM. “I will authorize a one-hour EVA. You are to proceed to the satellite and safely examine the superstructure. You are to take readingsonly, do you understand? Send back video and pictures of what you find, but don’ttouchanything.”
“What about entering, Houston?”
“If you survive the first half, we’ll talk about you climbing inside that thing. Do not enter the satellite without clearance.”
“Roger, Houston.”
Mark gave Sasha a long look. “Bet you the dehydrated ice cream he pokes his head inside before Houston gives him the go.”
Sasha shook his head.
Was it because they were astronauts or because they were Americans? What made these people cowboys? They lived larger than life, from Mark to Dan to Sarah, and now Jim and Michaela. Their personalities were so huge they filled the entire station. They were jet jockeys in their flight suits and aviator watches and slick sunglasses on Earth, the uniform of a take-no-shit badass. Here they were in orbit, still taking no shit. Still larger than life.
Mark floated out of theDestinylab and intoUnity, the United States’ very first contribution to the ISS. “Let me show you this.” Mark led Sasha into theTranquilitymodule.
Affixed to one of the berthing adaptors was a domed glass cupola, a bubble protruding down from the station and offering a 360-degree view of Earth below. Sasha saw oceans and clouds, all the shades of blue he’d ever imagined, all the shades contained inside Sergey’s gaze. Earth was an azure marble tumbling against black velvet. He tried to pick out features, tried to orient himself.
Or where Sergey was.
“We’re passing over the North Atlantic right now,” Mark said softly. If the clouds break, you’ll be able to see Europe and the UK. Scandinavia—”
“And Russia.” Sasha pressed his nose to the glass, grabbed the steel hatch coaming of the cupola in both hands and pulled, as if he could pull himself through the window and tumble down. There she was: the Bay of Finland, then Saint Petersburg. The Kola Peninsula, nearly frozen over entirely. Miles and miles of woodland, the Arkhangelsk Oblast, and further south…
Moscow.I love you—
“Let me show you the Russian side of the station.”
Sasha pushed off a bit more easily this time, following Mark as they swam and pulled their way through a maze of tunnels. The ISS was international, but there was still a clear demarcation between the Russian half and the Western half led by the United States.
