In The Orbit (Part I)

15. Strom

It took forever to get to Washington. It would have been faster just to drive. First security had to go all nuts about my pocket knife and food cans. Then they did a full body pat down because of my prosthetic thumbs. I suppose I could have just showed them my thumbs but I didn't realize that they had set off the detectors.

After the flight got completely delayed because of a storm, I arrived about an hour late. The officer who came to get me was practically running to get me to wherever we needed to go. His name was Hower and I am pretty sure that was his last name. I don't know why the officers feel the need to go by just their last names but whatever.

Now we are finally arriving to this glassed off area. It used to be a smoking area back when people used to smoke tobacco. My grandparents, like many Americans, were smokers and got Black Tobacco Disease and died.

Anyway, as soon as we arrive at the place, everyone inside stands up and comes out. There are a lot of suitcases, even though our checked luggage was sent directly to the ship. As we walk outside of the airport, I take a good look at my companions. There are four more officers, two boys, and three girls. I recognize the shortest girl one from the list my aunt sent me. Her name is Fiona and she is way more attractive in person. She has these great cheekbones and a squarish jaw. In addition, she has full lips and big eyes, and her facial features match together very well. I recognize the blonde girl with the blue-tipped hair that is now purple. She is the second tallest, only about two inches shorter than me. She is wearing a tightish wife-beater-style shirt, and I can see how buff she is. The other girl looks like she is a white female version of me. She is wearing actual pajama pants and looks a bit bewildered but I can automatically tell that she is crazy smart.

Both of the boys seem totally annoying. They are both quite short compared to me. One of them is a bit chubby and wears glasses. He looks like he wants to cry. The other one looks sporty and fit, but compared to the tall girl, his muscles look wimpy. Sporty boy is the male stereotype of attractive; soft brown hair, light blue eyes, toned, but not bodybuilder toned. I have to tell myself to keep an open mind. Maybe neither of these boys are not as annoying as they look.

We all pile into a van and drive off. Hower drives, and he is going about 40 mph over the speed limit. I am squeezed in between the two boys in the farthest backseat the van has.

The one with glasses, I am pretty sure his name is Harold, nudges me and asks, "Do you know if we can switch roommates?"

"Why?" I ask.

"Because I do NOT like my roommate," he growls.

The officer sitting next to him, a mean-looking lady, barks, "Nobody is switching roommates."

"But my-" Harold whines.

"No buts," the officer interrupts. I internally chuckle, and then scold myself for being immature.

"What's wrong with your roommate?" I ask Harold.

"He's an asshole,"he replies. "We went to school together and he picked on me."

If sporty boy overhears us he doesn't show it.

"That sucks," I say. I don't know what else to say in response to that.

About twenty minutes later, the van stops and we all pile out. We are in a big field. Behind us is a big warehouse. There are a few ships standing in the field, ready to take off into space.

The officer called Kunley points to the biggest one and shouts, "That's us!" He leads us to it and points to a pile of luggage that a few guys in those neon safety vests are loading on. "Dump your carry-ons there. We'll sort it all out later."