[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4139850][img]http://i.imgur.com/XetTf5b.png[/img][/url][right]"[color=54b9da]Keep the speeches off the feed, too. Your allies might have something to say while you're yapping.[/color]" Troy didn't expect to be that important speaker—not at that distance away from ground zero—not when his sensors and radar were not much better than those belonging to the rest of the team. He kept his finger pressed to the mic button a few moments interim. He tried to remember what he wanted to say next.

Oh, yeah. "[color=54b9da]Cam, do we even know yet whether they're bogeys? Over.[/color]"

Grudgingly he realized he really ought to get into battle position. Or at least sit up straight. Pulling his feet off the dashboard, fighting the sluggish resistance they gave off like a cooling molasses, he rested them delicately against the lower pedals, and set his beer down so that it wouldn't spill during the Chicken's march, if things came to that. He wasn't sure whether the risk of pain and death was worth breaking the drudgery and boredom of patrolling this frigid bitch of a moon, but he obsessed over his radar screen nonetheless, watching as the two groups of dots began to converge.[/right]