Before she knew it, she was in the transport to the training camp. The craft they were loaded onto was a sleek civilian hovercraft about 16 meters long, 4 meters tall, and 3 meters wide. Like almost all modern vehicles, this was powered by a Seyjhim reactor, but unlike most vehicles this had the operator’s cab on top at the back of the machine. Small cameras and LiDAR scanned the road in front and the data was displayed on wide screens below the cockpits windows. Artificial intelligence was used to fuse the camera/LiDAR with the visual to create a seamless vista. The operators – Danica wondered if the correct title might be pilot, but rejected the thought when she considered the altitude of the hovercraft would never exceed 3 meters – sat in the oblong cabin just below the crafts tail fin. Beneath them, the reactor. On either side of the reactor sat two small turbo-props – two facing back and two facing down. These props, combined with the three in front, would push the craft to speeds in excess of 350 kph. Cargo – such as it was as most left everything behind understanding that all they’d need would be supplied by the service – was loaded into the belly through hydraulically powered horizontal bi-fold doors situated on either side, just behind the personnel doors and ramps. Those doors and ramps were located behind the hovercraft’s twin forward turbo-props. These were vectored props to allow for steering. One final, non-vectored engine sat in front of them. Inside the personnel area, it was all business. The sleek and shiny, exciting exterior turned to drab gray hard plastic seats with chipped edges and scratched surfaces. Most every one of the 15 rows had five seats – three to one side and two one the other. The rows were staggered to prevent running up or down the narrow central passage. A small observation window at front tapered into a slit window less than 1/3 meter tall that extended the length of the compartment. There were no overhead compartments. No seat trays. Just room enough for 60 people, not counting the three operators and one monitor that sat in front facing the group. A small cubicle at the back with a toilet with a small sink was the only nod to the fact that the cargo was human and not livestock.

Danica looked about as she entered and a experienced a brief moment of doubt. The feeling was quickly forced down. She reasoned that this was just a contracted craft for a short trip.

Once boarded, she again isolated herself, sitting closer to the front of the small craft, quietly reading a book on her interface and listening to music quietly in an attempt to drown out the chattering of the many excited, and scared, teens and young adults loaded like sardines into the small vessel.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t paying attention. She saw the shy dark-skinned girl sitting by herself and thought of joining her for a chat to pass the time. She also saw and heard the raucous group of boys high-fiving each other and talking loudly in the back rows of seats. Another two sat together, holding hands and looking a bit lost. Danica spent a moment trying to decide if they were in a relationship and holding on to each other in the hopes that they’d be together when it was all over, or just acquaintances holding on to each other to calm their nerves.

If the couple’s hand-holding was an indication of their affection for each other it would hold them back. Monogamous relationships aboard the station were frowned on as genetic diversity was sought.

She decided it didn’t matter right now and it was none of her business. Seeing no danger, she returned to her book and music.

The trip to the training station took just over two hours with a quick stop at a convenience station. Most of the inductees jumped at the chance to grab armloads of junk food and a large soda of some kind. Danica just bought a bottle of distilled water and a small bag of mixed nuts while stretching her legs.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Upon returning to the transport after the far too short 15 minute break, Danica noticed that the shy girl hadn’t even stepped off. She was still sitting quietly, head down and hair hiding her face, in the same seat. She sat down next to her, abandoning her former seat to another, and gently tapped the girl’s shoulder. She hadn’t even acknowledged her sitting down, but now sat up with a start.

“It’s OK.” Danica soothed, seeing the girl’s tear streaked face. “I’m Danica.”

“Coral.” Said the sad girl.

“Nice name. Coral.” she liked the way her tongue rolled around the R. “Coral, would you like to share my snack and drink?”

Coral had dusky skin, dark eyes, and her mid-length dark brown hair fell in tight curls and ringlets around her face. The tips of the curls was tinged red and looked natural… sun-bleached. She was slight – maybe 7 -centimeters shorter than Danica's own 170-centimeters and maybe 7-kilograms lighter.

Danica quickly, secretly, slipped Coral a clean handkerchief. Coral took it and discreetly wiped her face. She reached out to return it, but Danica refused it. “I have a couple more. You keep that one.”

“Thank you,” whispered Coral. “And, I suppose, if you really don’t mind, I think I’d very much like a sip of your drink.”

Polite, or afraid. Or, both?

Danica handed over the unopened bottle of water. Coral carefully twisted off the top and poured a bit into her mouth without touching the bottle with her lips before handing it back, with a wan smile and a whispered “thank you.”

“Are you OK?” asked Danica. “most everyone else seems excited to be on their way.”

“Not you.” Coral replied. She immediately mumbled an apology, realizing she had seemed a little defensive.

“Ah, I just kinda keep to myself.”

“I guess I’m just a little unsure…”

“About…” prompted Danica.

“Everything.” she started quietly, before it all came pouring out. “I grew up on a farm, but I’m not big or strong. I wasn’t very good at math or science in school. I’m just a nobody and I miss my friends and family.”

By the time she had finished, she was close to sobbing.

“Hey!” consoled Danica. “You’re not a nobody. You had friends and family before, and you’ll make new friends here. We’re all starting with a clean slate and an even playing field. I didn’t have any friends,” her hands subconsciously rose to stroke the scars down the side of her face. “My family supported my decision, but didn’t really want me to join up.”

“You have a friend now.” Coral's voice was back down to almost a whisper.

“Thank you.”

“And the scars make you look fierce,” Coral continued. “Sorry… I shouldn’t have…”

“Eh, that’s OK. I’m kinda used to it… the looks and the comments. Fierce? I’ll take that.”

The remainder of the trip was spent in relative silence broken only by the occasional rustling of a bag of snack food, murmured conversations, and the odd belch as someone drank too much of a carbonated beverage too fast. Many slept. Danica read, and watched.

It was more interesting watching the other passengers than watching the landscape as they sped through the late afternoon sun. The view outside consisted of nothing more than flat fields of yellow grass or grains. They were moving too fast for her to be sure.

So, between chapters in her book, she’d glance around surreptitiously to assess the compatriots. She knew her story, of course. And, now, Coral’s. But what, she wondered, brought everyone else here. Was it the pay, the experience, an escape, or the hope of being allowed on the station when it was completed?

She had convinced herself that she was just here for the pay and a fresh start. Others, she thought, would be granted spots on the station. Except, maybe, Coral. She decided to do what she could to help build the diminutive teen up.

Rumor had it that Pleiades would be ready for habitation in less than three years. The station was already around 80-percent complete. Danica wondered if they’d get to see it while training.

The book she was reading between her glances around and mental meanderings was a technical manual. Sadly, she felt she had no time for more recreational reading. She also missed the old dog eared books she had started with. There was something, she mused, satisfying in holding onto an actual physical book… the texture and smell of the paper, the heft of the thing.