Spindrift by Allen Steele

pocket door of Rauchle’s compartment to slide open. “If you have any other concerns…”
    â€œ Nein. Danke .” Still upside down, Rauchle pushed himself headfirst through the door. Kaufmann gave them an embarrassed smile, then followed the older man inside. Harker waited until they were both inside, then touched the button again, shutting the door behind them.
    â€œHow did you figure that out?” he murmured. “I mean, I thought this was only…y’know, a professional…”
    â€œC’mon. You think they only want to compare notes?” She couldn’t blame them for wanting to be discreet; one of the unfortunate consequences of the recent religious revival had been the return of intolerance. “I just let them know it’s all right, so long as they keep it to themselves.”
    â€œYeah. Right.” Releasing his grip on the ceiling rail, Harker pushed himself down the corridor. All of a sudden, it seemed as if the corridor had emptied out. Everyone had found their quarters, save for Cruz, who tugged against the recessed handle of his compartment door. Harker took a moment to show him how to use the door button and explain that the handle was only there for power-loss emergencies, and Cruz entered his quarters with a grateful smile. “You realize, of course, that could come back to bite us,” he continued once they were alone again.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Emily couldn’t help herself; with a saucy grin, she grabbed Ted’s ass. “Oh, you mean this…?”
    â€œYes, I mean that.” He swatted her hand away, then glanced back to see if anyone was watching. “Emcee…”
    â€œOh, come now. They’re not going to tell.” Collins gently pushed him aside as she found her own compartment. “Besides, it’s not like the rest of the crew doesn’t know…”
    â€œIan doesn’t.”
    Collins pushed the door button, waited until it opened, then pulled herself inside. What Harker had told Rauchle was the truth; all the crew and passenger quarters aboard Galileo , with the sole exception of the captain’s, were exactly alike, at least in terms of size and furniture. A wedge-shaped room, narrow at the entrance and wide at the outer wall, with a fold-down bunk, a collapsible desk and chair beneath a bookshelf, a comp with an intercom phone, and a tiny closet with hanger space above three drawers. Its most valuable luxury was a privy that, once its sink and commode were folded against the bulkheads, could double as a shower stall. But only when the Millis-Clement field was in operation; until then, they’d use sponges for baths and plastic bags for answering the call of nature.
    Small, functional, and barely comfortable. Yet, like the rest of the crew, she’d managed to personalize her quarters a bit during Galileo ’s shakedown cruise. A few favorite paper books on the shelf. Pictures of her mother and two brothers, the former long since deceased and the latter whom she barely knew anymore, taped to the wall above the comp. A Martian tapestry with an abstract reddish gold design, both enigmatic and sensuous, that lent the room a touch of mystery. A toy spaceship, resembling a fighter craft from a twenty-first-century fantasy fic, that her flight instructor had given her several years ago.
    â€œIf we’re careful, he’ll never know.” Sliding open the closet, she pushed her bag inside, then shut the door before it could float out again. “No connecting doors here, either, but since you’ve managed to assign yourself to the next compartment over…”
    â€œDon’t count on seeing too much of me. Discretion is the better part of…”
    â€œOh, shut up and give me a kiss.” Grabbing hold of a hand rung above her bunk, Emily pulled him closer. Ted grinned, then put his arms around her. The kiss was sweet, but like all things stolen, it was furtive