I agreed to meet her in the relative quiet of station night.
A space station never sleeps; the same work goes on all the time. But in a nod to our animal selves, some of the station’s lights dim at a certain hour, and business tends to be done more quietly while not quite half the people sleep.
I knew why she wanted to see me. We had a history. It was almost businesslike; we would make an exchange, and then I wouldn’t see her again until she wanted to make another exchange.
I walked slowly down the twilit corridor toward her apartment. Station personnel like me have quarters; civilians have apartments. It’s a nice distinction. Someday I’d like to have an apartment, but what would I do on Outreach Four if I weren’t in Spacefleet?
At her door, I paused. If I got caught, I’d be cashiered and sent back to Earth. Worse, her part of the exchange…