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"Thank you for the information," Steven managed to say in a polite tone, "that will be all. You are dismissed." Not even waiting for the engineer to react Steven turned and climbed up onto the wing of his scimitar to do a personal inspection. Once he had settled himself the rest of the way into the cockpit, he set to work right away scanning and checking every system aboard, all the way from the highly technical navigation system to the landing gear to the little light that comes on when he sneezes. He was always amused by that last one. While the diagnostics were running he began the task of cleaning every inch of the fighter. He was still perplexed as to how even after the work the engineers had done it the craft was still dusty.

Thomas stretched a bit, cracked his neck, and got set. He checked the BR-02 magazines he'd set himself up with, and then started moving. No response was necessary, he felt, beyond a very laconic message.

Savior? What did they think he was wearing? Tin foil? He shook his head. They could save their armor for someone else; he had his own.

A few minutes later, he successfully located the meeting point of this Collapsible Infantry 215. Nakamura? Who was Nakamura? Thomas couldn't remember meeting him at any point, and being tossed under the command of someone he didn't know at all made him a touch uncomfortable. On the bright side, Thomas wasn't lacking for ammunition.

Dante was sleeping in the desolate transport ship when the vibration woke him up. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small blue device which was the source of the vibration. As he read the message, a small chuckle escaped his lips, “So they're giving me orders before I even get to the ship. Well it saves most of the questions.” A voice came from the cockpit loud and clear, “Thirty minutes until arrival.” Dante responded in a similar volume, “Alright, Thank You.” Dante laid back and took out a small black square object about sixty-two by one hundred and fifteen millimeters and a slot to insert book discs. He put his hand in one of the suitcases and pulled out a book disc written in Drathonian thinking he would need to refresh his knowledge of the Drathonian language. It was an Drathonian version of The Art of War.

When he reached the ship Dante had just about finished the book. He grabbed his bags and walk towards the door where he was met by a young officer who escorted him to his room. He was told he had a few minutes to change and wash up before he had to go down to the planet. Dante striped down and walked into the shower. “Holy s**t!” he said as the ice cold water touched his bare skin. Soon the water warmed to a steaming hot. After Dante got out of the shower he found that a Savior CAS was delivered to his room while he showered. He kinda hoped they came after the water changed temperature. No sooner when he was ready, a knock on the door said that it was time to go. Dante took a landing shuttle down to the planet with a few other soldiers.

When Dante landed, he started asking where would Captain Nakamura be. After a few minutes of go here go there, he was taken to the medical tent where he was told Captain Nakamura was at the mess hall. As he entered he remembered that he never asked what Nakamura looked like. He went over the orders but no picture was given. Dante sighed, “Great I'm looking for some guy I've never seen in a sea of men trying to stuff there face. This is going to be a long day.”

Thomas grunted and sighed. "I've just been there," Thomas complained, indicating the massive number of magazines. As they left the location, Thomas checked the BR-02 rifle he had already requisitioned in the mere minutes of downtime. He was prepared, all right, and walking about to find the rest of this team would merely be warm-up for running.

Contrary to what he had been expecting, Steven was oddly enough satisfied by the job the engineers had done. And, just as he was about to finish up and go get some coffee, he heard a loud, monotonous ring coming from the cockpit of the scimitar. "What the Hell is that?" Steven said stopping dead in his tracks. Upon further inspection, he found that it was the incoming message alert on his HUD in his helmet. This being a new experience for Steven, he curiously inspected the helmet before putting it on. Then playing around with some buttons he finally managed to pull up the message. Scanning the message over several times before removing the helmet. At first he didn't do anything but stand there looking at his helmet then he let out a loud shout of excitement, and almost as if it had been carefully timed the ship's navi computer beeped. The diagnostics were one-hundred percent complete, and he was cleared for take off soon there-after.

Within a few minutes, Steven was docking with the Hymn. "Ah, it has been far to long Hymn," he sigh upon leaping down from his fighter. Without another word he went to work looking for the rest of his squadron.

Garrett looked up when he heard his name, and met Thomas's gaze. "I'm a demolitions expert, and it's a dieing breed it seems. Before I left Sol System, they were trying to recruit failing engineers and marines into the demo training; didn't work too well, but if you're interested, let me know. They've made a little room in the books to allow... "apprenticing," let's call it. I can run you through an explosives crash-course and get you on the field in a week.

Arcadia was patrolling the hangar for Steven Kerning when another scimitar flew in and a young man hopped out. She approached him slowly; if he wasn't Steven, he might very well know what he looked like. "Sir," she said, after recognizing that this man was a Corporal, "Do you know where I can find a Corporal..." She sighed, reading his nametag. "Corporal Kerning, I'm Private Second Class Arcadia Langdon, and hopefully you'll excuse me for my stupidity; I seem to have lost so many IQ points on my mop-up mission that I've forgotten how to read. Sir." She saluted, grimacing inwardly for her idiocy.

Arcadia shrugged. "Second nature, I guess. That and the fact that you're now my CO: I've been transferred into Green Squadron, and I was told that it was under your command, sir." She stood at ease, right wrist grasped by her left hand, feet slightly apart. "Is that not correct, or did they not tell you there were new members, sir?"

She managed a half-smile and shook his hand. "And please allow me to the first one to warn you, sir, that I am to be the one to fill that position in the family known as the pessimistic b***h. Or so they tell me." She shrugged. "I don't really care, but I figure that only makes it all the more likely to be true." The smile was gone already, and she seemed all business yet again. "What are our orders, sir? I only know that we are to be part of the defensive operations around the Battle Hymn.