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The rapidly-approaching landscape displayed on the viewscreen was by now a quite familiar view.

For almost the last month, Alto had been stuck at the back of the fleet, watching the grey overtake the planet below. All that time spent waiting, watching, and wishing they'd just give the damn order already. How many more tests did they need to run before the techheads would be satisfied? He'd already memorized the operational handbook backwards and forwards, and probably could have piloted the gunmetal gray colossus parked across from him in his sleep. He knew its armaments and their usage by heart -- and so, he knew the difference they might have made at stemming the unstoppable tide into which they were only now descending.

And so really, it wasn't that he was scared.

He wasn't.

He was just angry.

He told himself as much again, shifting in his seat for what felt like the dozenth time in as many seconds. His whole body felt electrified, as though every muscle had suddenly gone taut with nervous energy, and the feelings in the air in the cabin surrounding him told him that at least [i]some[/i] of the ship's occupants felt the same. Seriously, how long could atmospheric entry even take? Since they were this close, shouldn't he be mounting up and running preliminary checks? What if the enemy attacked while they were still descending? Not that he was scared, mind you -- he just wanted to be ready to take the first shot if they did.

Must have been nice to have other things to worry about.

He shot a glance across the cabin to the Constellations seated in the opposite row of drop seats. [i]Eorman. Solignus.[/i] He'd heard those names all too many times before. Big shots. He'd never much liked being in such esteemed company -- even when the esteemed individuals in question didn't clearly hate each other even more than they resented being stuck babysitting a bunch of newbies.

Though, that didn't quite seem to be the source of "Max"'s almost tangible sense of disgust, given the particular attentions he was directing to somebody seated a couple seats over -- though unfortunately, Alto wasn't tall enough to see past the large man seated between them as to who she was or why he was picking on her specifically. Not that it was any of his business, anyway.

Guess regardless of if you were a pilot or a Connie, the newbies always had it rough. His heart went out to whoever the unfortunate newcomer in question was -- quite literally, as almost without thinking he found himself tasting his own sympathy in the air, warm and bittersweet. He hastily checked himself, diverting his thoughts away from the outside world and centering himself once more to make sure his Anomaly didn't go noticed by the vitriolic Antares.

While he had been testing the waters, so to speak, though, he had noticed a certain... [i]preoccupation[/i] with the way Antares had phrased his statement. Though he was fairly certain his [i]Corvo[/i] was supposed to be the only machine getting field tested today, there had been something accusatory in the words he didn't much like. Maybe the man had it out for him after all? But then why was he so focused on the girl when he said it? Damn, if only he could see better what was going on -- hearing it, or even [i]hearing[/i] it, could only do him so much good without actually seeing who they were talking to.

He scooted a few times in his seat, half-hopping to try and peek over the head of the girl sitting next to him -- with little success. Either way, it wasn't as if the mysterious newcomer was the only interesting thing to look at, so eventually, he cut his losses and moved his focus onto the next object of his attention.

He didn't recognize most of the Constellations on the ship at a glance. They were all very special and shiny and important, to be sure -- their names told him as much. Told him they were [i]too[/i] important, in fact, to risk associating with. But one in particular, he knew all too well. That famous martyr whose planet bled to death before he himself did... Just what exactly was a man like that doing here, playing overseer to a ship full of grunts, long after he should have retired?

...Well, it wasn't hard to hazard a guess why someone like that would take up the sword again and find his way to Alora, at least. Alto checked himself before his sympathy could express itself again, not wanting to make the same mistake twice, particularly when it would mean drawing the eye of a man whose very presence made the air taste like lead -- heavy and cold. He knew that feeling all too well, and he'd come much too far to subject himself willingly to it again.

So, since two of his superiors had made themselves in one way or another quite undesirable to talk to -- and since both of them now seemed to be conversing with each other anyway -- that just left one more. The bare-chested Eorman was surrounded with a sense of forceful exuberance that reminded Alto of one of the Warrant Officers helping out as an instructor back at the academy. The guy had always been too fond of his own voice, and of forcing other people to raise theirs -- but he'd also let them get away with a lot on inspection days, so Alto couldn't help but remember him fondly.

Well, speaking of raising voices, it looked like it was time for everyone to sound off. The other newbie was first, thankfully, and with how quiet her voice was, he would have expected someone short and nervous -- [i]not that he was projecting, mind you, that's just the first thing that came to mind[/i]. But when she did actually rise from her seat, he found his gaze going up... and up... and up.

Long metallic legs, ending in serrated points that seemed to skate across the ground in an all-too-strangely-familiar manner. Then, as if that wasn't enough, massive blades sprouting from her back that were almost as long as she was tall. Really, it was hard to tell where her cybernetics ended and her flesh began -- so much so that he almost didn't even process the way she introduced herself.

Wait, so the equipment that Antares had mentioned wasn't his [i]Corvo,[/i] but rather...

Nah. There was no way. Right? Right. Surely he'd misunderstood something somewhere along the line. I mean, how would that even work?  Anyway, there wasn't even time to think about it, since it was already his turn to sound off. Rising up from his own seat, clearing his throat, and, in the wake of the gargantuan Constellation who had gone before him, maybe trying to stand just a [i]little[/i] taller than usual, he eagerly, if a bit uneasily, announced himself.

[color=#076ECF]"Ehem. Apprentice Pilot and KHI Pilot-Designate, Alto Valenti, callsign 'Eight-Ball.' Just point me at anything you need gone, and my [i]Corvo[/i]'ll see it dusted!"[/color]