May 17, 2035
Earth Departure Plus 33 Days
20:05 Universal Time
Privacy Quarters
Damn, she’s good looking, Hi McPherson said to himself, not for the first time since he’d met Catherine Clermont more than two years ago.
He had been taking surreptitious glances at the French geologist all that time. Not at all voyeuristic, McPherson told himself. More like a teenager gazing at pictures of a glamorous Hollywood star, distant and unobtainable. Still, here aboard the Arrow, his interest in the petite brunette had grown into a full-fledged infatuation.
In the Arrow’s tight quarters there wasn’t much privacy space. Other than each person’s personal cubby, with its closeable screen and Velcro lined walls for sticking up photographs and charts, there were few places a crew member could go and not be noticed. Each person’s sense of privacy had to adapt. Each crew member had to get accustomed to the fact that every move they made could be seen by someone else—even changing one’s clothes.
It was at that inopportune time—or very opportune, from McPherson’s point of view—that he happened to encounter the object of his infatuation.
Catherine was in the passageway in front of the open screen to her privacy cubicle, her back toward McPherson as she slipped out of her coveralls to put on more casual shorts and tee shirt. McPherson almost walked into the bulkhead as he stared at her bare shoulders, bra strap and shapely bottom.
At just that moment Amanda Lynn happened to come up behind McPherson, who was oblivious to her presence.
“Excuse me, Hiram,” she said. “May I get by?”
Startled, McPherson stammered, “Uh, oh, yeah, sure. Sorry about that.” He felt like a high schooler who had happened to wander into the girls’ bathroom, not-so-accidentally.
“I, uh, I was just going to my cubicle to get my viewer.” Even as he said it, it sounded lame it him. Worse than lame: stupid. He could feel his face reddening at being caught in the act of staring at Catherine’s nearly bare backside.
“Viewer,” Amanda humphed as she squeezed past.
Without missing a beat, Catherine turned around, clad only in her underwear, and smiled at the two of them.
“Am I in the way?” she asked as she smoothly stepped into her shorts and pulled them up to her waist.
“Uh, no, I was just on my way to get something,” McPherson mumbled as he made his way past her and rushed to his own cubicle.
“Well,” Catherine said as she pulled her shirt over head, “I hope you enjoy the show.”
Tonguetied, McPherson ducked into his cubby, grabbed his entertainment viewer, and rushed back through the passageway past the two women, heading toward the galley.
Amanda shook her head as she watched his retreating back. “You shouldn’t tease the poor man like that,” she said to Clermont. “It’s obvious that he’s crazy about you.”
“Crazy?” Catherine scoffed. “Lustful, more likely. Still, I do like him very much. But I do not think it would be a good idea to let him know.”
“Why not?”
Her eyes on the hatch that McPherson had disappeared through, Clermont said, “We are together in this confinement for two years, non? If we begin to pair up it will quickly lead to jealousies and anger. And if a pairing should go bad, it could lead to horrible feelings that could jeopardize everything we want to accomplish.”
Amanda reluctantly agreed. “Yeah, two years is a long time. But he’d be a truly fine-looking man if he’d just shave off that damned beard.”