The announcement went over the tannoy in his room, "Mr... Slipstream, you've been cleared. Please make your way to the hanger." Dex was in bed, sat up with one leg over the other and casually flicking through a dirty magazine he had found under his mattress. He looked up at the small speaker and smiled, "thanks for the notice." he said more to himself then to the genderless AI that gave him the message. He pulled himself out of the rock hard mattress and went to the corner of the room, to pick up his backpack and the shotgun he had leaned against his drawer. He pulled the lever a bit to see if there were any shells still in, there wasn’t. He filled the Mag tube and put one in the chamber before slipping it over his shoulder with his backpack. As he passed the desk, he holstered his .49 and went down the hall, to where he remembered the the hanger was. 
Stepping into the cavernous space, he checked his equipment one more time, his guns were loaded, his bowie knife sharpened, there was only one thing he needed to attend to. He produced a little black device from his pocket that had a red button on it, he pushed it and a bleep echoed through the space as Ronica decloaked. He went straight to her, and ran his fingers over her matt, baby blue paint. He checked her fuel, her battery level and some of the doodads and compartments within and on her, when satisfied, he ordered some of the crew members to attach shoots on it and ready it for dropping into the atmosphere. 
He went to the dropship he was selected to board and entered it’s cramped confines, he looked at the people inside, an armored lump and civilian. Dec went straight to the cockpit and took a seat by the pilot.

“Nice bird.” he said, looking at the controls with interest. he felt comfortable here, it felt like looking at Ronica’s dashboard. “What model?"