Sukai sat in the troop transport counting bolts in the wall, counting lights on the ceiling, doing anything to keep his mind off the anxiety, wringing his hands all the while.
This is it, the first assignment. After this, there's no turning back for a while.
His eyes darted around, noting again the plainness of the ship, the stale air, the faces of the others with him (all either similarly anxious or trying to look nonchalant), and wished his guitar wasn't currently stowed away for the moment.
From the nearby cockpit, Sukai heard a muffled "Ah, shit," followed by the transport taking a sharp turn away from the ship they were approaching, instead angling toward another of the same design. Over the ship's speakers came the voice of the pilot: "Changing course for the UCS Kibou, trainees are to report to the bridge. Get yourselves together."
Sukai checked to see that he had all the equipment he needed on hand, and then picked up the rest of his gear as the transport settled down onto the Kibou. He stepped out with the rest, pack in hand, guitar case on his back, and headed for the bridge, gulping back a surge of fear and loathing.