The choir sings and sings, the music being played over the base's PA system. Its nothing I haven't heard before though. In fact, I have been hearing the same song every Tuesday for the last three years. I shift uncomfortably in my chair, feeling the need to go to the washroom. But I can't. And its all because of that harpy sitting in front of me in my office. 

"Surely you can slot me in for some transmission time?" The young woman pleads, brown eyes sparkling with earnestness. 

"Look Miss, uh.." I reply before realizing that I never bothered to actually remember her name. 

"Nomi." the young woman says brightly, her head bobs up and down happily, shaking the long silver hair about, "So you can do it? I can use the master transmitter?"

"No." I say flatly and watch with some amusement as Nomi's entire body deflates. Now please leave so I can go take a piss. 

I tap the control equipment sprawled all over my desk and explain, "The chorus is singing right now. You know how much bandwidth that takes up? Close to 90% of the system's ability to manage. I still have to handle urgent transmissions that came in today as well. Come back later and file a proper application." 

"But the captain won't give me an application form if she knows why I want to send a prayer to god world!" Nomi wails, bunching her tiny fists up. 

"Why do you want to pray anyway?" I grumble, "I can tell that your holy bulwark is fully charged just by looking at that deployment earring of yours."

Nomi starts sweating a little and plays with the her uniform's collar, "Maybe I want a transfer to another unit? Please don't tell anyone I said that!"

I sigh tiredly, "The gods are busy pumping the chorus full of blessings right now so the citadel's walls don't fall and we keep living. Nobody's going to remotely give a shit about your prayer today. Go home."

Nomi suddenly stands up, knocking the chair back, and stutters, "Well, well, I didn't want to do this but if you're going to keep being mean, then I have no choice!"

Here we go. I discreetly press the panic button located under my table. Its always the new guys that are the worst. They just can't get it in their heads that prayer is not just about them. Me being a man probably has something to do with it as well. We live in a world where women rule the roost. Nomi here probably thinks she can beat some transmitter time out of me. 

Nomi's deployment earring blazes with power and a scythe materializes in her hands. She lifts it up over my desk threateningly and shouts, "Give me transmission time! I can't stand working under that bitch of a captain anymore!"

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

A dry cough interrupts the scene. I waive to the person standing behind Nomi, a middle aged woman completely decked out in power armor. 

"Problem, Don?" the woman in power armor asks and clamps her hand around one of Nomi's shoulders. Nomi squeaks in surprise and her face goes completely pale. 

"Nah." I shake my head, "Nomi here was just leaving. Isn't that right Nomi?" Nomi nods rapidly with a forced smile and dismisses her weapon into the ether. 

"Bring an application form next time!" I shout as Olivia frog marches my would be attacker out of my office. I need to make a note to security to bar that crazy loon from the transmission station. My life is complicated enough without having to deal with this shit. 

....

Shortly after kicking Nomi out, Olivia shows herself back into my office, this time with her bulwark dismissed. She takes a seat without invitation and scowls at me silently. 

"What?" I ask, looking up from my terminal. Olivia could be considered good looking, if not for the eye patch and her unflattering hair cut. The citadel allows female personnel to do up their hair, wear make up and perform alterations to their uniforms with very few restrictions. Why Olivia chose a crew cut for purple hair always eluded me. She never bothered to alter her uniform either, unlike pretty much all the other women serving on the Citadel. Everyday is long sleeves and slacks day for Olivia. That combined with her ridiculously toned body and the bad ass eye patch, made her look way more manly that me, an actual man.

"You need to act more like a man." Olivia states, "Show some deference. I can't keep bailing you out like this."

I flash my ring at Olivia before returning to work, "Relax. Standard issue bulwark is here charged and ready for action. I was in no danger."

Olivia rolls her single eye before snorting, "A class D bulwark. When almost every woman rated for bulwark use can operate at the very least a class B. That girl could have mopped the floor with you, Don."

"What's the class of her bulwark anyway?" I ask with a furrowed brow.

Olivia's face suddenly takes on a cautious look and she whispers to me, "I don't know. When I did a scan on the girl while escorting her out, the system told me that her bulwark rating was classified. She's far more than she appears Don. You might have finally offended the wrong person."

I shrug and continue monitoring the chorus as they draw in the massive blessing pouring down from the god worlds, "Nobody's going to touch me. Transmitter operators are far too valuable. Not everyone can make sense of the runic data being thrown about here."

Olivia nods reluctantly and gets up from her seat, "You say that, but one day you're going to push your luck too far. Remember what I said just now, start acting like a man."

I look up and give her lazy waive goodbye, "Sure. See ya."

As Olivia leaves, she suddenly stops in her tracks and exclaims, "Oh! Have you met the local celebrity yet? He was in the queue outside the whole morning."

I raise a questioning eyebrow and respond, "I've been in here doing synchro work for the choir the whole day. Need to match their singing with the emanations from the beyond. No idea who you're talking about."

"The new pilot. That guy." Olivia comments as she leaves my office, "The man who scored an A on the bulwark compatibility scale. Come to think about it, he looks kind of like you, Don. Just you know, younger, slimmer and more handsome."

Shit. The day has come. And I am nowhere near ready. 

I curse under my breath, "I blame the truck."

"What? Truck?" Olivia asks just before shutting the door to my office. 

"Never mind." I sigh, "Thanks for the heads up." Olivia nods with an odd look on her face and shuts the door. Too close. I almost let things slip. The stress must be getting to me. 

Some days, its really not easy being a man.