Jack grunted a short "Welcome 'board, get ready for takeoff" to each of the newcomers as they arrived. He knew more about each and every one of them than they did each other, including medical records and history. While none of the nations were comfortable giving up such records, these were all considered "low risk." In other words, they were sending those who could be glorified, or dispensed, at will. If it went successful, they could say they sent their most recommended- if they were not, they could say that they were simply a first wave of grunts who intentionally volunteered.

It churned his belly, to be honest, but he didn't blame them. He picked out the sniper himself, though that probably actually decreased her chances of getting on the team, whatwith the bickering and pettiness common within the political structure.

Either way, he was the last one standing after the last one arrived. A stern look, felt even through his faceless helmet, gave them enough warning to go ahead and strap in. Accompanied by the pilot's warnings, it was followed automatically or consciously. Either way, no one was arguing. 

Satisfied, he stepped fully into the dropship bay, walking fully down it as he triggered an impulse through the implants. The door rose, and began closing; the lights inside went from the basic white/yellow to a red, lights on the wall, replaced others.

So he walked down the rows on both sides of the dropship, already checking to make sure everyone was strapped and locked into the wall. In the case of catastrophic failure, each seat would jet out the side and deploy an environmental shield and a parachute, to provide breathable air and a slow descent. He helped the confused ones' harnesses down, a pair of arms that came from over the shoulder and locked in around their arms, with straps for their legs, chest, and feet. When everyone else was situated, he moved to the front of the spacecraft, resting a hand on the pilot and copilot chairs. He eyed the Slipstream character from within his visor- he had just taken his spot. It wouldn't have bothered him, except the military was pretty much in control of this operation, and he seemed to disregard it. 

He walked in as his pilot was talking about killing- something that brought back less than pleasant memories. Through his slightly delayed voice from his helmet, he announced, "Prepare for takeoff, pilot. Command will drop on your go. And by the way- I don't know about Slipstream here, but I've killed dozens. Dark thoughts, neh? I hope you passed your mental examination, since you're piloting this boat."