Free One's Aspect to the Sun by Sherry D. Ramsey Page A

what he'd think if he knew my true age. No doubt he'd want to interview me every day for as long as the journey lasted.
    That night I found it difficult to fall asleep. It wasn't that my circadian rhythms were out of sync with Earth's—we always made the necessary adjustments in the approach to a planet to make sure we didn't suffer from space lag. I sleep better planetside than out in space, but not planetside on a silent ship. That's the worst. No pulse of engines for comfort, no sprawling, majestic vastness of starry space outside the viewport. Not even the normal sounds of the world beyond the spaceport. Just utter silence in a big metal can.
    That wasn't the problem tonight. I knew very well what it was—Hirin was only a few scant meters away from me, just across the hall, and I longed to go over and curl up in the bed beside him.
    Not for sex—we'd not looked for that very often since he'd become sick. Just for the warmth and companionship and because there wouldn't be many more nights when I could listen to his breathing beside me and feel the soft rise and fall of his body next to mine. There were nights when I missed him no matter how many light years and wormhole skips separated us, but it was easier to dismiss when time and distance were insurmountable obstacles. When I could cross the hall to him in less than ten seconds, it was harder to ignore.
    I looked at the clock: one a.m. already, and I hadn't closed my eyes yet. I weighed the consequences. What if someone saw me? I had no idea if the rest of the crew were sleeping or pursuing their own nighttime activities. How could I explain creeping into the bedroom of my elderly “relative” in the middle of the night? It would raise more than eyebrows in this bunch. They wouldn't rest until they knew everything.
    Yet here I was, Captain of the ship, and afraid to venture outside my cabin door? It was ludicrous. I could always plead a trip to the head or a midnight snack if someone saw me emerge, after all.
    After another hour of debating, I decided to risk it. I pulled on my robe and threw together some clothes for the morning. I felt silly, and excited, like a teenager sneaking around on her parents.
    When I stealthily opened my door, the corridor was dark, broken only by a pale yellow glow from the guidelight in the galley. No-one else seemed to be stirring. I picked up my bundle of clothes and stepped out into the hall. A noise halted me.
    It didn't come from the direction of the crew quarters, but from the stern. I knew that peculiar tinny echo, the click of a step on a metal ladder. Someone was climbing up the hatchway from the lower decks. Trying to be quiet about it.
    I took a silent step backward to the doorway of my cabin and let the clothes I was carrying slide to the floor. I shrugged out of my long robe and let it slip down as well—I didn't want any encumbrances. Whoever it was would find out that I favoured biosilk sleepsuits in bright colours, but at that moment I didn't care.
    What really worried me was that I couldn't get to the weapons locker. To do so I'd have to run towards the intruder climbing up from the engineering deck, and that just wasn't practical or smart. I should have stepped back into my room and hit the general alarm button on the comm pad, but to be honest I just didn't think of it.
    I took one more careful step inside the doorway of my room, just to be out of the glow from the galley guidelight. Whoever was coming would have to step through that glow, however, and I wanted to be able to see them without being seen.
    Another light step sounded on the corridor decking. A shadowy figure rounded the corner of the weapons locker, close enough to notice me if the lights had been on.
    The figure gestured with something I couldn't discern, and the guidelight went out.
    I hadn't seen a face, only a dark silhouette, but it obviously wasn't anyone who belonged here. It took me a nanosecond to make up my mind. I launched out of my doorway