Ryan listened in to the developing conversation, and sprang off of the box he was seated on when the voice of the commander started to ring through the hangar. He peered up at the distant figure, glancing aside at his new comrades a moment as he listened in.
Mars... it was a long way from anywhere he'd flown before, that was for sure. And space was about as out of his element as he could get, as a former A-10 pilot. He'd had more than a few training flights to get used to the idea though, but it still boggled his mind; going from moving mud to... well. There wasn't exactly a space-based equivalent of close air support and interdiction. Though, maybe Mars would have some similarities. Red dirt was still dirt, as far as he was concerned. A shiver of excitement rose through his chest, and he turned to murmur to the pilot nearest to him to share his thoughts, and get theirs- before the rising alarm cut him off, and the situation shifted abruptly.
The next moments were a blur; within minutes he was in his flight suit and survival gear, buckling a helmet strap under his chin and checking suit seals as the bay had become a blur of activity; loaders hurried past with trailers of missiles or other ordnance and supplies, flight crews waved tow vehicles in complicated dances through the bay to the launch bays, and pilots ran to and fro to their waiting craft.
Ryan jogged to his waiting VF-1, the sleek fighter marred by the bulky augment packs on the dorsal surface. Unlike his CO's ship, his had the bulbous and intimidating quad-barrels of particle beams jutting over the cockpit. No bombs today, he thought as he made a quick visual inspection. As always, the plane looked pristine - or, as pristine as any active war machine, at least.
His crew chief nodded, giving him a tight and reserved smile. "Don't break my plane, Goldman," the older woman said with a gruff tone, and a jerk toward the shark-mouthed red VF. "...and kick the crap out of whoever it is interrupted our big showoff today".
"Sure thing, Chippy," he acknowledged to the short-haired brunette as he climbed up the ladder and swung into the seat. She stepped up and helped him strap in, and attach his hoses, before slapping the side of the cockpit. "And it's my plane, not yours," he quipped back with a thumbs up. She rolled her eyes, but gave a short smirk as she returned it as the canopy came down. "I just let you borrow it!" she yelled over the sound of rising engine noise.
His machines' engines started, the grumbling vaccum-cleaner whine rising to a higher note as he flicked switches and ran a rapid preflight check. He touched one hand to the side of his helmet as McKnight's voice came through, replying in his own calm tone.
"Vapour, this is Lawnmower. Looking good here, over".
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