Welcome to Gaia! ::

Blackstone nodded. "Petrachkov is hanging back. He's going to ride a rocket with your equipment, cloaked by his REF, into the swamp. One of you will carry the homing beacon. Once the rocket hits, you're going to have to move quickly because Coven patrols will have a rough idea of where you are."

"No, uh, see... if we slow you down, that makes you easier to track," Blackstone replied. "We need to you go full speed until impact. Which means when you hit ground, you need to be unconscious so your REF doesn't tamper with the anti-inertial field. I figure we should be able to do it with three CCs of interrogation-grade anesthetic once you reach 20 meters from ground, then wake you up with four CCs of your suit's softstim supply - the stuff it pumps when you need high output in combat, if you don't recall. Assuming you can't turn your REF off at will yet?"

No weapons? Keep dreaming, the Ghoster thought to himself. He never went anywhere without his handy-dandy soul-stealing knife of doom, and he'd be dead, damned, and haunting the living before someone ever took it from him.

"Time is of the essence, then. We should get moving, if there is nothing further to be said." And Grayson was more than a little interested in seeing what the mundane folk were doing with themselves these days. They changed a lot very quickly, but then again Romack was never in one place for very long... Maybe he was just mixing up scenery.

"Well, move along then!" the AI demanded. The assembled military personnel got the distinct impression it would roll eyes if it had them. "Unless you plan to stand here for two months on end or something similar, you can kindly withdraw your fleshy forms from my insides and do something useful with yourselves."

"Well, you heard the, ah. Artificial intelligence. Let's move along," Blackstone ordered. "We'll rest here for a few hours, then set out for Florida. Once we get past Alaska, we'll be clear of the Outlander area and the shuttle will deploy from the Dutchman; you'll land in Florida early morning, theoretically well-rested. You'll recognize the lines on the floor in the style of the Dutchman. Yellow will lead you to the crew quarters for docked ships. The rooms are identical so pick them out yourself. I need to find Theriden and the head of the maintenance staff here to get our ships in top shape for the mission. Dismissed."

He stalked off along a dimly purple-glowing hallway, leaving his crew to find their own way.

Which wasn't especially difficult, because the dimly glowing yellow line on the floor only turned twice before leading to a common area and a very large number of rooms; elevators and stairs would make it unambiguous that there were several floors of this.

The Coven. Catalena bristled. There were memories of the Coven she would have preferred to never have to meet again, except in the act of ensuring their swift and painful termination.

However, she merely tightened her lips slightly and nodded her acquiescence, then smirked at Petrachkov's eagerness to be killed. "Don't forget anything this time; can you handle that?" She submitted any weapons remaining on her person to be left with the man, confident in her abilities with or without them, and climbed aboard. In the process of familiarizing herself with the ship, she happened upon Blackstone. Once she had greeted him, she asked, "In which city, exactly, will we be landing?" The set of her hips was her customary, sultry demeanor, but behind her darkly beautiful gaze she hid a distinct and boiling hatred. Not for this man - for another.

"My apologies, sir," Petrachov said, saluting Cholos. "I was slightly inattentive to the briefing and missed the 'not-on-ship' part. It won't happen again." Turning from Cholos, Petrachov saluted Blackstone. "I guess I should think more about briefings and less about load-outs, sir," Petrachov said to him, saluting again. "If there's anything I can do for either of you, I will do it promptly." He turned to go back to where he was supposed to be.

Pullman chuckled at Petrachkov’s idiocy as he sidled alongside Catalena and Blackstone. “Man, I really hope that ******** dies during this next mission. And painfully.”

He looked to Catalena and raised an eyebrow. “So, off to bed? Maybe we can be roomies...” He smiled playfully and held an arm out to her, the act at odds with his decidedly unsubtle innuendo.