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"My strongest trait, eh? Hm, if I had to think of one I would probably have to go with the fact that I am goal oriented. Once I set my sights on something I don't stop working towards it until I have reached the goal and found a new target to work towards." Steven replied. His shins began to burn slightly from the speed walking. "How about you? What are your redeeming qualities?" he asked as they entered the hangar and turned sharply, heading towards the rest of Green Squadron.

Tern was lost again. He couldn't explain how it happened, but one minuet he was walking from the mess hall then before he knew it he was in some remote, desolate corner of the ship. It was quite vexing;Tern was hardly what would be called “directionally skilled” and the Battle Hymn was a large ship indeed. So it was that Tern came to be walking along another desolate hall, his brow furrowed, black duffel-bag occasionally thumping his knees as he roamed the passageway, searching for an exit in a manner not unlike that of a cornered beast.

Tern came to split in the passage and stopped frowning in consternation. He hated the silence. But it was then that something broke the silence, a voice, buzzing faintly in the distance. Tern rejoiced, and headed toward the voice.

So, imagine Tern's surprise when after strolling down the hall for a few minutes he saw just the man he wanted to see most – Adrian Gorefowl. Hefting his duffel-bag, he narrowed his eyes, looking past Adrian, beyond which must lie, Tern supposed, familiar land, and kept walking. He reaching Adrian and opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it, grabbing Adrian by the arm, swinging him around as he did.And he kept walking, didn't even miss a step.

Steven chuckled a little at the response but was not all that surprised by it, considering how most of the conversations between the two pilots usually turned out.
"Have it your way, I guess. We can talk more once we are off alert status." Steven said as they reached the staging area. Without a moment's hesitation he parted ways with Arcadia and maneuvered his way up into the cockpit of his fighter. From there he slid on his helmet to begin going over the last few preflight checks he needed to do.
Good, all scimitars are in working order and awaiting further instructions Steven thought to himself as he continued down the list.

"We aren't expecting any at all" The Avatar answered, smiling at Cibo. "They are far enough out of the way that we don't believe there would be any reason for them to worry about an attack at this point. They don't have any strategic importance like the shipyards, either, and never were all that well defended. Although, You are an intelligencce officer and have more experience than I do. What do you think, considering all that's gone on recently?" Evelyn said, turning the question over on to Cibo.

"I neber look for a fight, but when one is presented to me, I do my best to win with as little casualties as possible" Evelyn answered, smiling at the intelligence officer. "I just hope we are in time to save these potential allies" she confided.

****

In the hangar bay, the captured Drathonian ship suddenly rumbled to life, landing thrusters engaged, it retracted its landing gear and began to hover. Almost immediately afterward, The voice from before called through the intercoms "30 seconds to realspace. Blue squadron and the transport have reported in green. Brace for transition."

Some walls had countdown clocks which showed in bright red letters the time to realspace. As the time wound down people did what little bracing was needed to combat the awkward effects of transitioning back to normal speeds. The Battle Hymn of the Republic, being the newest, most advanced warship, also had the smoothest transition from FTL of any ship in the galaxy. Many drathonian designs would throw a person to the ground if they weren't prepared, as would some older Terran designs, but nothing of the sort would happen aboard the Hymn.

The countdown reached zero and the blur outside the magcon fields of the hangar bay became starlines and then turned to the pinpricks that signified realspace. With utmost precision in timing, the Drathonian transport was out of the hangar less than a second after the ship had reentered realspace, and blue squadron was not far behind, the fighters hugging close to the fleet and making up a defensive screen while the reddish box carrying the marines went its merry way towards one of the nearer pinpricks, this time a planet, the sun close enough to actually look like a sun, but it was obvious that the fleet was a ways out. Anyone who dared look through a window or the magcon field would get quite a breathtaking view.

Watching Tern walk ahead along the hallway, Adrian called after him, “Well, I guess thats your idea of a friendly hello!” Repositioning the duffle, which had been offset by Tern spinning him around, Adrian sighed then started to run to catch up with the demo-expert.
He was on the verge of informing Tern that, he personally doubted, that either of them actually knew where engineering was, but before he could the sirens made it known that in thirty seconds they would be transitioning into realspace. Looking around the hallway, he silently cursed, just our luck making a transition and nothing around to hold on to. Locking his knees and grimacing Adrian looked at the floor, trying to find something to distract, him as he decided it would be best to just try and ride it out.
During the transition the technological improvements of the Battle Hymn resulting in Adrian only leaned to one side, but while he had only moved no more than an inch it seemed as if his insides had jumped two. Transition, seems like such a peaceful word, he thought as he swallowed some bile, till you learn it means warping bloody reality. Taking in a deep breath, Adrian looked around; Tern was nowhere in sight. Gah, with his mind he probably kept walking, the Sniper thought as he began to jog forward, no matter if that’s the case I’ll probably catch up with him soon.

"I have never seen such a beautiful planet, So I suppose I do agree" Evelyn confided in Cibo, Staring at the tiny green ball so far away, though her eyes did not see at that moment. In reality, she was using the ship's sensors, seeing something like what Cibo herself was seeing, but in much more detail. She noted enemy fortifications and began preliminary mapping from their vantage point, feeding the information to Cibo to make some sort of sense out of it, to possibly beam to the troops headed down.

***

The Transport hurried on its way, heading into the system, past the orbits of the outer planets and closer to the target. Their ETA was about ten minutes, at their top STL speed. The fleet would hold its collective breath for a while.

Cibo quickly went over her console as information streamed into it. The imagery was much more detailed that what she pulled up a moment ago; she could even see Drathonian patrols as they went about the cities. "As typical of the Drathonians, they've taken the nicest, most comfortable buildings for themselves. These buildings have been crudely fortified to repel attacks from the indigenous population, which, from what I understand, uses either captured weapons or locally made chemical ones. Adequately supplied forces will be slowed down, but will inevitably cut through the defenses." The salt and pepper haired Intelligence Officer moved the view about, and focused on the patrols. For a moment or two, she watched them move about in lazy patterns around their cushy seats. "I'm guessing their patrols are mostly localized around their bases, with a few deep raids here and there to try and keep the local rebels unsteady. So long as the away team stays away from the upscale neighborhoods and in the ghettos, they should go unnoticed by the lizards." Cibo zoomed out a little and looked the many, once beautiful, cites over, taking note of whether or not an area was 'ghetto' or not. She quickly created maps of the various cites, of which she hurriedly created a color coded overlay option. "Here Evelyn, I'm forwarding this map to you. The overlay option, it's a little crude, but I'm sure it's good enough to tell the ground guys where the Drathonians and SeFlaurinds are at. I hope they like it. Give me enough time, and I'll even be able to create a 'Heat Map' of the Drathonian patrols." Cibo finished speaking. A moment or two past by slowly, and she realized she had addressed It by name for what may have been the first time. Her mind worked on this incident and what it implied...