“[b]My apologies, Captain,[/b]” Michi replied after a long moment, the queasiness of the unknown and the unexpected twisting her stomach and roaring in her ears. The man's eating habits weren't helping, either, and she closed her eyes for a long moment. Fortunately, she could hardly get any paler – but the grapefruit, half-eaten in front of her, looked distinctly less appealing, and even its smell, normally a divine temptation, soured. Carefully – almost too carefully, the exquisite precision of someone fighting their own senses – she laid down her spoon and blotted her lips with the napkin.

 “[b]I do not like the unknown, and I find myself...out of sorts...as a consequence.[/b]” A half-smile, one side of her mouth quirking upwards for a split-second. “[b]Once I know the [i]why[/i] of our deployment, things will improve. If-[/b]” she had been about to enquire after his cybernetics, a distraction from her own stomach and his...[i]basic[/i]...table manners both, when the shriek of a microphone cut through the air and the order to report to the bridge came through, deep and sonorous.

If Michi had thought that Gregory had eaten quickly before, now he was a man possessed, powering through his food at an alarming rate and then all-but throwing his plate, bowl, cup and cutlery together and neatly slotting them into one of the racks before leaving at a march she would be hard-pressed to keep up with.

His cybernetics might have been ugly, but they were functional. In fact, they functioned very well, given the turn of speed the big man had put on. With a faint sigh, Michi pushed herself up from the table and went through the same motions as the captain, although at a rather more sedate speed. Not slow, exactly, but certainly not Gregory's inhuman pace either.

The bridge of the carrier was an impressive sight, a sweeping horseshoe of consoles filling the air with light and information as impeccably-uniformed UNF sailors and soldiers paced between them, discussing in low, earnest tones their duties and data and a million and one other things, all the myriad little details that went into keeping tens of thousands of tons of metal flying serenely above the ocean, in total contrast to its natural state. Even during the graveyard shift, the bridge barely changed; vital jobs had to be done, and machines cared little for the hour or for human failings and foibles like sleep and relaxation.

Unusually for the hour, however, and a sign that things were out-of-the-ordinary, the captain of the carrier himself was on deck, looking as fresh as a daisy and sipping coffee with every air of nonchalance whilst two others – her colleagues, in point of fact – stood at attention in front of him, ready and waiting to receive the briefing. 

“[b]Lieutenant Maganza reporting in, Captain Dawn,[/b]” she said crisply in her turn, salute flawless and body braced at parade-ground attention, fresh from the drill squares of the Royal College. Her eyes drifted idly over the files at his left, but she was skilled enough to keep her gaze quick and disinterested, allowing it to pass over them to gaze at the screens showing the carrier's progress through iron-gray clouds that were grossly pregnant with rain. 

She returned her attention rapidly to his face, however, keenly interested to see his reaction and for any further information that might be forthcoming.