"None taken, Colonel." Zola said with a chuckle. She had been expecting that reaction for quite some time, and almost thought that Excalibur squadron was going to disappoint her. After all, if most of her previous employers had been hesitant at best to accept a mercenary pilot, she felt more than certain that a UN experimental squadron would be even more so. "We get that a lot, but it makes sense for us mercenary pilots to be more level-headed. You wouldn't want a wildcard deciding where to drop a payload of bombs and missiles. I know I sure as hell wouldn't."

She took a few bites from her meal before continuing, "Decisive Solutions, the company I worked for, liked us to be professional. Made for better public relations. People like Everett were preferred, the constant professionals, but they were always far and few in-between. They were often sent for the jobs that paid the most. I was part of the majority of the DS fleet - your standard flygirl, if you want to call me that." She paused for a moment, recalling some of the nicer moments of her mercenary career with a small, almost unnoticeable smile. "Good times, but its all in hindsight, eh?"

Having said her piece, she turned her attention back to her meal and cleaned up her plate in a matter of minutes, just in time for the Colonel to inform them that they only had roughly forty minutes of free time before the next briefing and that they were to check on their aircraft. That sounded like a good idea to Zola; she wondered how the Su-24 was holding up, seeing as how it had never been designed for seaborne operations. "I'll take my leave then, Colonel." Zola said with a nod and stood up. Hoping that she could navigate the vessel using only whatever signs there were, she left the cafeteria.

Thankfully for her, she managed to find her way to the hangar within forty minutes. The Ghost of the Strait, being the second to land, was not too far from the entrance to the hangar; Zola could clearly see it as she entered the large, spacious room - not exactly the kind of words you would associate with a submarine at all. Much to her pleasant surprise, she saw a familiar face standing in front of the aircraft, looking up at the nose. "Oi, Evie!" Zola shouted out with a grin as she approached the aircraft and her pilot, immediately drawing the attention of most of the people in the hangar to her, not that she cared much about it. "Tore yourself away from the tablet long enough to leave the bunk, eh?"

"It's Everett." Everett said, though it was more to the snickering maintenance personnel beside him than to Zola. "And I was about to join you," He continued, looking back to his WSO. "Looks like that would have to wait. What is going on?"

Zola shrugged. "Hell if I know. The CO just told us to meet back in the barracks in forty minutes for a briefing."

"Looks like we'll be in the air again soon." Everett said and turned to face the various missiles around the Fencer, just waiting to be loaded onto a pylon. There were a lot more missiles than pylons, that much Zola knew, and the missiles ranged from air-to-air to the large, long-range anti-radiation missiles. She recognized the layout as something most Decisive Solutions pilots were accustomed to, herself included. It took up no small amount of space, but it did allow for the aircraft to be quickly loaded no matter the mission. When you were getting paid by the mission, it was imperative that your aircraft was always ready to take on any sort of mission that cropped up.

Zola walked over to the right side of the nose of the Fencer and looked up at the name stenciled on the side. Ghost of the Strait. She liked the name, but part of her wished that she had been there when Everett was deciding on the name. She could have at the very least added something of hers to make the aircraft a truly shared aircraft. "When we get another aircraft, I'm calling dibs to name it." Zola said, her eyes still looking at the name.

"As if we'll just be issued a new aircraft out-of-the-blue." Everett said and scoffed. 

"I'm serious." Zola said and turned back to look at him. "It's not fair that I didn't get a chance to offer any input to the Ghost's name."

Everett rolled his eyes. "Fine," He said, but beneath his breath, he added, "If it would shut you up."

Zola chuckled as she walked past Everett. "I heard that, but I'll still hold you to your word." She said and tilted her head towards the entrance to the hangar. "We should probably start trekking back to the barracks. Wouldn't want to be late for the briefing, eh?"

Everett nodded. "It would leave a poor impression." He said and followed behind Zola as they walked back towards the barracks. It felt oddly refreshing to Zola to be walking in front of Everett, like she was leading him rather than the other way round in the cockpit. She offered herself a little grin for that thought, but wiped it off her face just before they walked back into the barracks. "Hello," Everett greeted politely and walked back to his bunk, picking up the tablet and lying back on the bed to scroll through it some more. Watching him almost made Zola want to look through her tablet - she refused to believe that there was anything so interesting that would capture Everett's attention to such an extent.

However, she just sat on the edge of Everett's bed, deciding to attempt a conversation. "So, what have you learned about this ship?" She asked.

"Not as much as I would like, but I suppose I can only know so much before I get visits from people in suits." Everett replied dryly. Just then, the Colonel gave a warning about the ship's 'supercavitation drive'. For a moment, Zola wondered just how bad the acceleration could be. After all, she had survived the rigors of air-to-air combat and came out none the worse for wear. However, when the siren sounded three times, followed by a vocal warning, and then the lights taking on an ominous red hue, Zola decided not to play around and quickly climbed into her bunk and braced for the acceleration. The entire ship vibrated, and Zola felt herself suddenly feeling quite fearful that the ship was going to destroy itself, but then came the familiar sensation of a rapid acceleration.

Almost as soon as she no longer felt herself being forced into the bed, Zola jumped down from her bunk. That was unlike any other ship propulsion system she had ever experienced, and she could not say that she wanted to experience it again, though she knew that she had little choice in the matter. She sat back down on the edge of Everett's bunk and took in a deep breath to calm herself.

"Are you alright?" Everett asked.

Zola nodded several times vigorously. "Absolutely. Just the nerves, is all."

"If you say so," Everett said and left it at that.