NaNoWriMo novel: Stormfront

She casually returned our salutes. “This way, cadets,” she said as she turned and headed through the open hangar doors.
We followed her into the cavernous building. The center was dominated by a fighter in various stages of disassembly, surrounded by gantries. As we angled across the concrete to the suite of offices along the sides I realized just how big the craft really was. I had been around atmospheric training craft most of my life and had imagined their spacefaring cousins to be the same approximate size. I could now see just how wrong I had been – the space fighter was huge. Easily two hundred feet in diameter, it looked nothing like it's atmospheric counterpart. There were no wings or other control surfaces, nor was there a visible cockpit. There were, however, multiple weapons mounts. It seemed as we walked by that the majority of the hull had a weapon system of some type attached.
“I haven't seen this model before.” I heard Walker mutter. I glanced at him, momentarily confused, then I looked back at the ship. I hadn't seen this configuration, either, but it didn't strike me as odd. It seemed like a naturally neutral shape for it to be in. I then realized what the disconnect was.
“You did realize that fighters are flexmetal, didn't you?”
His silence more than answered my question. I looked back at him speculatively. He really didn't know the most basic feature of these amazing things. It was a pleasant, if somewhat guilty, feeling of validation as I confirmed my previous realization about his claim of superior self confidence.
The lieutenant showed us into a somewhat cluttered office and sat behind the small wood desk at the end. Walker and I snapped to attention in front of her desk as she hit a call button in the corner screen. “At ease,” she commented without looking up.
As we relaxed, her office door opened and a chief entered. The casual way he folded into the single chair against the wall seemed to indicate he spent a lot of time in here. “I am Lieutenant Pipkin, the flight line division officer. This is my line chief, Dakson. You belong to him for the next week. More than likely, he will have you walking the tarmac looking for FOD, sweeping the hangars, or cleaning the head. You may occasionally get close enough to a fighter to drool over it, and I will arrange a day for a pilot to give you a tour of the interior before you leave. Until then, I don't want to see you near any of the craft and if you bother any of the pilots I will have you back to the recruit training center before you can blink. Chief?” she asked and looked over at the man.
He was studying us through squinted eyes, the expression on his long face doubtful. He pursed his lips and jumped up from the chair, heading for the door. “I can find something for them,” he commented without looking back as he headed back out.
The two of us hurried out after him, not wanting to lose sight of him.