Gulls cried overhead as Yumiko stood wilting under the harsh afternoon sun, sweat beaded across her brow. This had to be the world's worst line, ever. Earlier she felt clean, pressed, and confident for her first real day in the military. Now she was a soggy, dripping mess, hair flat, uniform rumpled. The long sleeves of her uniform seemed woefully inappropriate in the summer heat. Other girls in line had short sleeves. What was up with that?

Looking back, Tori and Tsubasa stood in line, two positions behind her. Tori did not seem to care much about protocol, as she had her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, stockings shoved down her to ankles, hat off and crumpled up in one hand. She stood in Tsubasa's shadow, doing her best to stay cool. Tsubasa panted while fanning herself with her hat. She looked like a giant melting popsicle, her two thin legs like the pair of bamboo sticks that stuck out the bottom of the type you could break in half to share with a friend. Fortunately, she had short hair. Yumiko reached back and peeled her long strands off the back of her neck. This. Was. Awful.

Slowly the line crept forward. Another hour passed before Yumiko finally passed under the shadow of the corrugated warehouse, relief at last from the sun's glare. Ahead she could hear the murmur of thousands of voices inside. She peered through a nearby window. Inside the situation was no better. Girls sat on the floor, waiting. Everyone appeared agitated or exhausted. Some slept sitting back to back, others curled up in a fetal position, using their sea bag as a pillow. No food. No water. Everyone seemed to have a small sheet of paper pinned to their left shirt pocket with a single letter: A, C, or D. No B?

"Next!"

Yumiko jumped with a start and grabbed her bag, tidying herself on the fly as she crossed from the entrance to a small booth erected in the middle of the mass of girls. A very stern, elderly looking woman with a bulbous, hairy mole over her right lip looked up from behind the booth, a massive ledger set in front of her. "Papers!"

"Y-yes ma'am," Yumiko stammered, quickly pulling her carefully folded conscription letter from her right shirt pocket and extending it. Do not look at the mole. Do not look at the mole. Yumiko averted her eyes.

Hairy Mole adjusted her thick glasses and scrutinized the sheet. "Hmm. You put together aircraft, do you?"

"Yes ma'am." Should she salute? Maybe it would be better to try to make eye contact as well.

The woman picked up a pen and started scrawling into the ledger. "Excellent. I'm assigning you to the Boneyard."

The Boneyard? That didn't sound good.