The dull call of klaxons welcomed Derik into a new day aboard the RAC Andromeda. He woke up at eight in the morning, as according to schedule. Each group would then take turns at the physical training suite. Derik was assigned to group C, which was full of men that looked to be quite a bit more used to physical training than Derik was. Among the others, he stood out like a sore thumb. One scrawny, blonde guy in his early twenties, yet to grow competent facial hair among a team of burly men, all buzz-cut and stubble aplenty.
After an hour of physical training, the groups would go on to survival classes. Here they would be taught how to adapt to the environment of the planet Serica. Basic stuff, like building fires, rationing their supplies, and potentially fending off hostile life forms.
This kind of routine went on for weeks. Sure, they had entertainment, they played sports, there were movies, they even access to a, however slow, connection to the internet.
"Get up." A very deep, loud voice filled Derik's ear, almost overtaking the klaxons. This voice belonged to Rick, a huge, well-built, albeit rather friendly man. "Come on, physical's up soon. Your favourite."
Everybody get up it's time to slam now
We got a real jam goin' down
Welcome to the Space Jam
Here's your chance do your dance at the Space Jam
Holy shit I'm lazy. Time to get back to this.