Elliot raised his hands when West gave them a daring stare. He simply smiled and thought it amusing. "I already have the men in mind for the job. Consider your team made. I won't bother to spoil the surprise however. You can find out who they are when we prepare to leave. That should make this whole trip a lot more fun." He finished the rest of his breakfast in silence and got up to take his paper plate to the trash and throw it away. He turned around to wave them a see ya later and then headed out of the mess hall.

He moved through the labrynth of corridors and traversed up and down a few mobile platforms and elevators that took him to farther levels of the ship. He finally made his way to the armory. The doors slid open with a quiet hiss as Elliot walked inside of the armory with a solid and confident stride. The weapons that hung on the walls, protected by bullet-proof casings and shields (to prevent theft, of course) glittered in the light that reflected off of their stainless steel and chrome coating. He moved over to an AR-02 and punched in the security access code that granted him permission to grab the weapon. When the case flung up, he carefully reached forward and picked up the light 30 pound rifle. With the gravity simulator onboard the ship, the weapon weighed its standard, but once out in space, or even on the meteor, it would weigh like a feather in the palm of his hand.

Which reminded him, he needed to start suiting up. He turned around and walked through yet another door. This door led into a dressing room where a black suit was laid out on a bench. He had laid it out earlier for preparation. The suit was small and tight. It had to be for swift mobility in deep space and amongst little gravitational pull. It wasn't anything fancy, though, just a mere suit of similar design to Spec Ops uniforms. All in all, it was your typical James Bond stealth suit, just outfitted with life-support for space and underwater missions. The suit was comfortable and light, and didn't get in the way whenever he has to kick out or run. The basics of combat require the manueverability in close-quarters in almost every situation. He can't be a sitting duck just floating in deep space, only able to move his arms at forty-five degree angles each. That would suck. He knew that the rest of the team had also recieved the suits. They would need them for their experiments and what-not.

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