Hi, Words Whirling 'Round  !
 Overall Thoughts
First impressions and general/developmental feedback.
Hello! I haven't been able to review as much as I've been wanting to outside of the SFF critique group I'm part of ("WYRM"  ) lately, but for September, we've resolved to review science fiction and fantasy pieces outside of the group to celebrate WdC's birthday. I found my way to your portfolio (and this sci-fi story) through your wildly entertaining poem about Death hanging up his scythe. When trying to decide what to review, I was torn between this and "Collaboration Day," which I found compelling. In the end, I decided to start here.
This is an enjoyable story, well-told. With very few exceptions, your prose is clear, compelling, and evocative. With stories like that, subjectivity becomes more of a factor than ever. Below, I'll share my impressions and some thoughts on how I think this story could be strengthened. If any of it resonates with you, I'll be happy, but do feel free to discard anything that doesn't align with your vision for the story.
— Character/Plot/Pacing:
I enjoyed the story and liked the concept of the man on the space station passing over his home and his wife and child awaiting a call from him. It added such excellent tension regarding Rick's safety when things started going wrong. I enjoyed your narrative style, too! I think your pacing and the way you escalated the story (and its shocking ending) was done well, too. I was interested in reading on as things escalated for Rick.
I had a few overall thoughts while reading. I'll share them here. The first was that Rick's bad-to-worse situation felt a bit too convenient at times, and that affected my ability to suspend disbelief for the tale. The portrayal of his awareness/competency at times versus his purported exhaustion at others felt inconsistent.
The second—and this is where things get highly subjective—is that this didn't feel quite complete. It has all the makings of an excellent story, and it was an enjoyable read, but it didn't seem to pull together at the end. The story went like this (SPOILERS): ▼ the wife let her husband go to the ISS because she didn't want to hold him back and knew he'd regret not going. Husband, busy with the program, hadn't really thought of wife and son. The wife waits to see her husband pass over house in ISS, eager for his call. Just before the call, the husband is working. A freak accident causes the husband to be propelled out into space without a tether. Exhaustion and pride lead things to go from bad to worse. The husband dies; wife is informed on the telephone call she was supposed to have with him. It's a series of events, but the lack of thematic connection makes it feel somehow incomplete. The story's ending felt like an unusual choice for a final image. Generally speaking, I love when the final sentence (or chapter) of a book or story adds meaning or context to the whole, but I felt that was lacking here. I was waiting for some thread to pull the two POVs (wife and husband) together in some way, but if it was there, I missed it.
I'm not sure if that makes sense. Here's an example, off the top of my head, of a story that I think would make the ending you've chosen feel meaningful. A potential series of events + options for build-up ▼
A wife awaits a call from her husband who's on the ISS (just like in the current beginning). She encouraged him to go because she knew he'd regret it if he didn't (as in this version), but told him to be careful for the sake of their son. He was smart and reckless, but the people who burn brightest fade fastest, so she asked him to take care—to not always push to be the best, the most independent, the brightest and most competent. The husband went to the ISS and thrived there, staying busy, and hadn't thought about his son or wife. Thematically, you could tie in the visuals of the shooting star you use at the end and introduce something more earthbound as a counterpart. Rick as an astronaut could be tied to the shooting star imagery (bright but quickly extinguished) and Rick as a husband and father could be tied to something more grounded or rooted to the earth (something nourished and long-lasting but immobile, which could become Rick's core struggle)—maybe something mentioned or shown in Miranda's scene. A tree in an important location for them, maybe a place they went when they were dating, or on an important anniversary. Then things progress as they do in this story, maybe with some slight changes to Rick's interior thoughts or motivations. Instead of the too-convenient exhaustion and pride, maybe you could start with that pride. He's eager to make the call but he wants to have something really cool to tell his little boy, so he's in a hurry and he keeps at it and gets a bit reckless. Maybe he even takes off his tether a bit early, or bumps something that causes the leak that ends up being his doom. Things progress exactly as they do, and Rick dies. Miranda, in her scene, could be looking up at the sky, perhaps hoping her husband hasn't been burning himself out. But then, of course, she gets the call. [the end]
That might run more literary than you intended, and it might be miles from your goal for the story, but if nothing else, I hope the above example is amusing. If you choose to pull the story together a bit more tightly, you have infinite options. (And if you already intended for there to be a connection, I might have simply missed it.)
— Description/Style:
I read in your biography that you're a former technical writer, and your clear and well-edited prose made me believe that wholeheartedly. My reading experience was quite smooth, overall. I left a few comments regarding fiction/storycraft, but definitely feel free to take or leave them.
On a description-related note, the opening has a pretty serious case of white room syndrome, where the complete lack of setting makes it impossible to envision the characters in the space they inhabit, which can prevent engagement or lead to confusion. I mention it below, but it might be useful to give that opening scene with Miranda a bit more grounding setting description.
You introduced the characters but did not introduce their location or context, so the opening was a bit of a rough start; I at first thought they were ON a space station together, but then had to reconfigure my mental image. To aid reader immersion, providing context from the outset (where are they? inside or outside? I'm not sure if they're indoors looking through a window and sitting on a couch or outdoors sitting on a picnic blanket) along with distinct characterization (if they're sitting on a sofa, maybe Ricky is climbing up Miranda, as if doing so might get him closer to his father, or something like that) will enable readers to inhabit the scene.
Another minor thing on the description front was that, in a couple cases, description felt like it came out of order—a cause-effect reversal that felt jarring. For reading flow, I thought it might be useful to put those events back in order. (I mentioned those things below when I encountered them.)
 Digging a little deeper:
Line comments—sentence-level and scene-level feedback.
 “Do you want to see Daddy’s space station tonight?” — There's a reason, I think, that it's vaguely taboo to start with dialogue. In some cases, if the opening line of dialogue is highly surprising, amusing, or compelling, it can work quite well, but otherwise, it introduces instant confusion. Because readers have not yet been immersed in the story world, they do not know in what "voice" they should read the dialogue, and that can cause problems. It caused problems for me, because when I read it, I thought the speaker was a man (the "Daddy" in question) addressing a young child and referring to himself in the third person, as parents sometimes do with very small children. Thus, when I read the next line, I was thrown very much off guard. I thought "Miranda" must have been the child the father was addressing, but then a younger boy was mentioned, and I wasn't sure what to make of that. I think adding a small amount of context before jumping in with the opening line of dialogue might make for a smoother introduction to the story.
“A little bit late(,)” Miranda smiled easily. — A minor note: commas are only used inside dialogue tags when the text that follows is a tag, like "Miranda said" or "Miranda whispered, petting her son's hair." However, "Miranda smiled easily" is not a dialogue tag, because words cannot technically be "smiled." Instead, it would qualify as an action tag, which would require the highlighted comma to be a period: “A little bit late.” Miranda smiled easily. Alternatively, it could be made into a dialogue tag: “A little bit late,” Miranda murmured, smiling easily.
“Command to Rick. Time to bring it in. Your suit power is running low. We can finish the installation on the next EVA.” — I'm enjoying the voice here! It's instantly clear where the POV has switched to, and, while I know your author's note says you made no massive effort to make this true to actual goings-on on the ISS, it still feels believable. You deftly handle technical terms later on, and while I'll admit I'm not well-versed on how space stations work, so it's not too hard to fool me, you had me fully buying into this story and the scene. Excellent work.
“Okay, Rick, keep us advised. And, by the way, — "by the way" seems like a rather odd way to introduce something Rick must already know.
No way I’m gonna miss that call.” — This is sweet. It effectively connects this to the previous scene, where Miranda is already waiting. I'm engaged with Rick as a character, drawn in by his excitement to see his wife.
Rick Dawson, you've just returned from the Space Station, where are you going next?
I'm going to Disneyworld! — I admit, to my shame, that I'm not familiar with this old commercial, so I'm missing the humor or meaning here, and I'm not sure how it connects, if at all, to his determination to make it up to his family when he gets back. Regardless, it makes Rick feel more rounded as a character.
He had the door open in another minute, feeling satisfaction at successfully completing the panel installation and relief at the thought of getting back inside. — This is a small note, but here and above ("Rick felt a small twinge of guilt") you use filter words to tell the emotion rather than showing it. Filter words are things like "he saw/he felt/he realized/he smelled" etc. They "filter" audience experience and dilute the reaction slightly. It can be much more effective to directly show things to the audience. So, for example, rather than, "He heard a crack," an author might remove the filter "he heard" (because, if we're in his POV, we already know he's the one who's hearing) and rephrase it to something like this: "Something cracked in the woods with the sharp, wet noise of breaking bone." (That particular description is geared toward horror; a romance story would definitely describe the crack differently.  ) While it's totally reasonable to leave the filter words exactly where they are, it might be worth asking if it'd be more effective to replace them with specific actions that show his satisfaction and relief. Since this is Rick's first scene on the page, those specific actions can end up being valuable shorthand revealing who Rick is as a person. If his way of showing relief/eagerness to get back inside was to reach for a silly necklace his son made him as a goodbye present (a good luck charm) but find himself unable to touch it because it's under his bulky suit, it'd show Rick as a different person than if his first instinct as his muscles unwound was to wish he had access to hard liquor.
What the hell? What's happening? — I love the tension this introduces! On the other hand, though, it comes out of nowhere. It ends up being jarring in a way that pulls me from the story rather than compelling me to read on. This scene is in Rick's point of view, so it feels unnatural that I can't "see" what he's reacting to. Could there be a line of narrative (even if it's sudden and confusing and even Rick doesn't know the source) to give this context before readers see his thoughts? What would he hear and feel as his body was thrust backward that could ground readers in the confusion of this moment?
The leak from his reserve oxygen cylinder acted much like a spacesuit mini-thruster. — This also feels jarring. Your use of the definite article "the" implies that this leak is something that has already been mentioned—something I and Rick already know about. But as I continued to read, it became clear that this was a sudden and unexpected occurrence.
A tiny defect in the cylinder tubing had given way at the worst possible moment and at the worst possible angle. — Ah, clarification! I like that only after the shock and horror of the initial incident does Rick have time to realize what's going on. I think, with some minor adjustments to phrasing and description, this whole section, already interesting, could read more smoothly.
Rick had just unclipped his external safety line after the grueling seven-hour extravehicular activity to replace a failed solar panel. — This feels like it's coming out of order (you're telling me his line is unclipped, but it clearly happened a while back, since he's already getting pulled back and out by the air leak), and it disrupts the intensity of the scene, dragging me away from the immediacy of Rick's accident to provide a paragraph of exposition. Could this come earlier, before the incident? If it did, I think it would more effectively build tension.
Rick decided to get himself back to the airlock before contacting station command. — I'll admit, this feels convenient—manufactured to make his rescue impossible. The impression I had of Rick before this wasn't of a man who put his pride over his own life, so while this absolutely increased tension, it also felt out of place and a bit forced.
If he returned quickly enough, there would be no need to admit he’d ever been in danger. — I do like that it puts a ticking clock on his life, though!
Rick waited for his rotation to line up with the station — I'm engaged and visualizing this, holding my breath.
had forgotten to account for the continuing thrust of the oxygen leak — This felt a tiny bit contradictory to me. Before, he very quickly identified the exact source of the leak instants after it occurred, while free-floating in space (tiny defect in the tubing). But now he forgets to account for the very cause of his current predicament? I'm seeing very different levels of awareness, speed of reaction time, and implied competency here, and I'm not sure which one is true. This sentence asserts that it's because he's exhausted, but his exhaustion wasn't mentioned until after the accident occurred, so it feels a bit forced and not in line with what I've seen on the page in other places.
Stunned by the impact, he traveled almost three hundred meters before the fog cleared. At first, all he could see were stars slowly rotating around him. — I'm loving the urgency and intensity here, the way it ramps up the hopelessness of Rick's situation.
so he had to aim for where the station would be, rather than where it was now — This is very cool.
It had to be doable. He wouldn’t allow himself to consider the alternative. — He hasn't once thought of his family. This might be a good spot to have a brief moment of thought about them (or maybe even a moment where he doesn't allow himself to think about them).
He was calm and clear-headed — This feels like it contradicts the extreme exhaustion you asserted before.
The extra-long EVA had used up a lot of fuel, — Would they have allowed an EVA that long, knowing the risks?
Clammy sweat and nausea accompanied the background thump of his racing heart. — This is wrenching and effective. I feel sick right along with Rick here.
“What’s going on out there, Rick? You should’ve been in the airlock ten minutes ago.” — This was unexpected. They clearly know when he should have returned and are a highly-disciplined bunch. I'm having a bit of trouble believing they wouldn't have tried to get in contact multiple times before this, and, if they failed to do so, immediately gone to learn the cause of the delay. Here, though, Cap just sounds lazily curious.
The air in his suit was already going stale, or was that just his imagination? — This feels so real. If I were running out of oxygen, I'm sure I'd feel the same way.
His blazing re-entry would make an exceptionally bright shooting star, perfect for wishing. It seemed a fitting end, somehow, for a career astronaut. — I like this. Delightfully morbid and appropriate.
. . . I miss the earth so much, I miss my wife . . . — The ring tone feels eerily appropriate, given the story's content! I like the way you used it here!
“Miranda? This is Cap. I’m sorry, but Rick isn’t here . . .” — Thematically speaking, this seems like a rather odd place to end the story.
Summary Thoughts and Suggestions:
I felt like a bit more grounding detail in the opening and connection between scenes could make this interesting story even stronger, but it was still an entertaining read! Thank you so much for sharing, and...
Write On!
 This review is being sent for the amazing speculative fiction critique group "WYRM"
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There's a moment
Aww, this is really cute. I especially love the bit about swapping out spaghetti. It shows such great personality for Daisy. And it's funny how proud she is of her failure. (I found a little run-on that you could correct if you wanted.)
:
) I'm forgetting what that's called. But it makes for excellent poetry, anyway. I was enthralled by the poem from start to finish. The AAAABBBBCCCC rhyme scheme only added to the drum-like beat, which felt appropriate for the content. (Politics and sports can both feel like getting beaten into the ground, in my experience. 
