How exactly one is to prepare for a six-man circle jerk, Lana’s not sure, but she’s not surprised Matthews doesn’t offer any tips. If Lana’s assigned to room with the mouthy blonde again on Six, she might just have to quit the Corps right there and let the shuttle haul her back to solid ground; twenty-one months of training out the window. In the meantime Lana doesn’t waste her breath. Who’s to say her friend’s sister didn’t enjoy blowing six guys at once? Hell, maybe it was her idea.
Or maybe there’s no sex on Six at all. Wouldn’t that be even crueler? Get all the trainees primed up during transport, plant salacious rumors that are bound to spread, and when they disembark subject them to three long months of celibacy on a remote space station loaded with officers in uniform. Turn off the viz and bind their hands at night so they can’t even masturbate. Bind their hands when they shower, assign a bunch of petty officers to wash them down…
“I’ve heard the same thing,” says Cat Eyes, a condescending smile on her lips. “I hear they rape you if you don’t perform well. I bet they just love to do it to pretty white girls with lovely long hair.” Her voice drips with mock flattery, her dark gaze raking over Lana.
“All I’m saying is no one better try to rape me,” Matthews says, as if the threat was directed at her. “Any prick who tries has it coming.”
Lana turns toward the portal doors, weary of the conversation; sometimes the women in the Corps are worse than the men with all the bravado. The redhead in front of her swivels around and raises a sharp eyebrow at Matthews. She has a pretty, heart-shaped face and wears a corpsman’s insignia above her ample chest. Lana’s seen her around; not really the kind of woman you forget. Sat next to her at breakfast this morning, but didn’t attempt conversation—Frat Policy and all. Her call sign, Scarlet, has been stitched into the ISC badge below her insignia.
“Don’t be ridiculous. No one’s getting raped.” Scarlet’s green-eyed gaze flicks to Lana. “Don’t listen to them, sweetheart. They have no idea what they’re talking about.” She turns to face the portal doors, shoulders back, and tosses her head, reddish curls bouncing. She hasn’t pinned her hair up. Though she’s about the same height as Lana, she seems taller.
“Aren’t you nervous?” Lana whispers.
“Of course.” Scarlet gives Lana a sly look over her shoulder. “That’s just part of the fun.” She winks effortlessly—Lana has never been able to pull off a wink like that—and stands at attention as a departure officer assumes her place in front of the nearest portal, computer tablet in hand. Other officers file into place, ready to call the roll.
The multi-layered portal doors slide open, revealing the small airlock chambers that will whisk the trainees up into the Transport Level of Station Six. Lana watches as trainees are sorted into the lighted chambers, five at a time, her heart drumming an anxious rhythm as she listens for her name.
Scarlet steps forward—Lana doesn’t even catch her real name when it’s called among the flurry of others—and takes her place in one of the chambers. She gives Lana another wink and a mischievous grin as the doors shut.
When Lana’s name is called by one of the officers, he tells her, “Echo Unit,” with a too-familiar sidelong glance. Before she can figure out if that look, prompted by her last name, was triggered by her brother’s infamy or worse—her own—she’s herded into a chamber. The bright white light pools over her and the four other trainees inside. The triple doors slide shut, one over the other, and as the floor begins to rise, Lana’s stomach sinks.
This is it.
Once she sets foot on Station Six, she’s officially in. Technically, training begins tomorrow, but everyone knows evaluation begins the second you breathe Six’s air. From that moment on, there will be no way out of the DEEP Training program but to drop out or to be dropped, take the long shuttle ride back to Corps Central and face the training board a failure. Have that excruciating talk with her parents over the com, the one in which her mother tells her with utmost sincerity, It’s perfectly fine, Lana. Honestly, we had no expectations.
She stands up straighter, recalling Scarlet’s flawless posture. The other trainees in the chamber stir, like restless animals about to be released from a cage. Life on the shuttle is cramped and bloody boring, but Lana knows the taste of freedom on the comparably enormous station will be fleeting. DEEP Training means long, intensive hours slaving away at the mercy of the rigorous program, and in particular, her Commanding Officer—her trainer. Deep Space Extra-Vehicular and Emergency Preparedness is a pass or fail program, and Lana knows her CO will have the ultimate say in whether or not her performance meets the bar, whether or not she achieves her dream of a long-term assignment in deep space. DEEP is the gateway to that dream, and her trainer will hold the key.
Lana has done her research; DEEP has an approximate sixty percent failure rate. Of course, she wouldn’t be here if the Corps didn’t believe she has a real chance, if she didn’t believe she has what it takes to make it. If she didn’t want it down to the marrow of her bones. But making an excellent first impression on her trainer is vital, and it all starts when the chamber doors open.
She takes a deep, steadying breath. The chamber locks into place, the layered doors open—one,
