SCRA Recruitment Centre

[Omi]

The little shuttle set down in one of the Trotsky's hangar bays with a clatter, its outdated design not entirely compatible with the docking latches of the venerable cruiser. Inside the cockpit, Meiling let out a sigh of relief. Hammering a shuttle-sized dent in the hangar would have been a very bad first impression, but since the autopilot had conked out ten minutes after takeoff she'd had no choice but to land manually. Reaching down with her right arm, she levered the hatch open and climbed out, running her eye over the spartan interior of the warship. Applying for the Fighter Corps suddenly seemed a lot more daunting now that she was actually here.

Courage, she thought, trying to reassure herself. It should be daunting. You need to focus, or you will be flying that shuttle home again.

Her resolve slightly bolstered, Meiling left the docking area. The recruitment room was right across the corridor, she saw. The door of the neighbouring docking bay was shut, a soldier standing guard outside. He had an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth, but he was making no move to light it. Noticing her gaze, he pointed one heavily-muscled finger at the waiting room, but otherwise remained silent. He clearly wasn't interested in talking. Probably making sure nobody goes off-limits, Meiling surmised. It made sense.

She went into the waiting room and took a seat, doing her best to ignore her own mounting nervousness. Her chosen seat was near the door, just in case. That way, if she had second thoughts, she could always leave before the commissar arrived. She could just get back into her shuttle and fly home, safe and sound. There was nothing wrong with keeping your options open, was there?
The ship was overpoweringly silent, the only noise being the gentle hum of the cruiser's engines reverberating through the whole vessel. Meiling leafed through her identification papers, checking for the hundredth time that everything was in order. Even one mistake could make her look foolish or, even worse, suspicious. Meiling knew what happened to suspicious folks on board the Trotsky. She sat still and waited, stealing the occasional nervous glance at the doorway.

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