The touchdown of the jet on tarmac was soft, computer guided control surfaces and thrusters ensuring the landing was barely noticeable. The magnetic clamps locking down on the body of the plane was not, the flight control computer apparently deciding better sure than sorry.
Military transport jets had few comforts and comfortable seats happened to not be one of them. Absently rubbing at the back of your head, you take a look outside as the jet is guided into the underground hanger, the weak sunlight and dusty Earth replaced by harsh white illumination strips and ceramic tiles.
The safety lights flashes green and you unclasp the safety harness, slam down the armrest to collapse the seat and collect your duffel bag alongside the three dozen odd other passengers. All through the flight, you had been the subject of discreet stares and hushed conversation, a trend that did not change now. As someone sitting in the back of the plane, you had the honour of disembarking first, meaning you could feel the stares boring into your back. You patiently endured it despite the raised hairs on the back of your neck, waiting until the ramp was fully depressed to step off.
It was not because of your looks, you thought you looked rather average. It was not your clothing, you wore the same tracksuit, naval blue with gold trim as everyone else did. It was your gender.
Rather, it was because you were a guy. The other thirty or so passengers were all girls.
Ignoring the stares still drilling into your back, you glance down at your datapad, which was tracing a path towards your room, and make your way through the halls. On the way, you received more stares from the women whom seemed to make up the entire staff of the base, mostly silent and assessing, though a couple burst into giggles as you walked by.
Entering your room, you dump down your bag and take it in. Walls painted a neutral off-white, a single glow strip in the ceiling, a holoscreen currently depicting the outside world and two single beds set on opposite sides of the room, each with a small cupboard set against the head, and an attached bathroom. Your room mate had already arrived, a dress uniform neatly arranged on the bed and a few personal effects on top of their cupboard. For a moment you felt like walking over to peruse the few photos there, but you restrain yourself.
Checking the time, it was another two hours till orientation assembly and with nothing else to do, you flick the holoscreen to news with your datapad and sit down on your bed.
. I should stop playing Minecraft and get back to Google Docs.
