The colonel walked at a fast pace, right into the ready room, already having removed his uniform coat, and having gotten himself properly briefed on the situation. He noticed that most of his strike team subordinates were already in the room, and getting themselves prepped for drop. He decided to not make himself known just yet. He was slightly late, and although that was excusable to some extent, it wasn't the right thing to show to his subordinates. He berated himself on his untimeliness and lack of punctuality, before moving inward to strip into combat armor.
Before the boarding, he had chosen the standard grey ACU of the Marine forces, except reinforced with kevlar. This was not quite the level of Kull armor, or even near close, but it was an extremely agile suit, while also providing some kind of protection. They were also given a selection of the G36K carbine, the standard tested and proven P90, and of course, after a special requisition, SPAS-12 for slightly heavily armored combatants.
As he prepped himself in haste, he finally barked out "Get ready in thirty! We're gonna take these bloody bastards, and fuck 'em in the arse, oorah?", using the backhanded speech of the drill sergeants of his youth. He noted that the entire team was there, so hell wasn't messing with them, but he'd read their records. Not all of them were accustomed to fighting out in space, and against aliens as he was. And he hadn't gotten to the point of trusting them too much yet, but they were his men now. Except for Lieutenant Cody. The bugger had caused immense headaches with him, with a lot of his records being classified. He'd managed to figure that from his nationality and some digging around that he was CIA personnel. A spook.
A spook on his team wasn't a good thing, so he made a mental note of confronting the Williams about him later, and extracting info, no matter what, but now was not the time. He grabbed the G36K, and pulled the operating rod back, dropping the blank filled magzine out, and checked its usefulness. He made it a point of always checking his equipment, or things would go wrong. He grabbed a couple of clips, around nine to ten, and strapped them to his thigh, and then grabbed some more. Enough rounds to get through with, but if he needed more than that much, they were quite screwed anyways.
Slapping the clip into the gun, and pushing the rod back, the colonel was battle ready. He moved to the screen, just waiting in anticipation for orders.