Captain Greggor swiftly stood at attention upon Major Kincaide's belated arrival, and listened to every word of the briefing in that uncouth western-english drawl; with all thouse rounded-off vowels. Then came the informal questions-and-answers part which every officer dreaded becauses there was always going to be [i]someone[/i] who would ask for information the briefing-officer didn't have.

Thankfully, this lot seemed a bit more knowledgeable of why bits of information sometimes aren't in briefings; although the major did take some time to stress what they [i]definately did not know[/i] in advance.

But then the new-arrivals had to start talking. Callsigns were often posted and easy enough to look-up if they had the time, but he'd seen a MiG-31 land earlier the evening before. The active airstrip was still not much more than compacted dirt and some tents when his MiG-23 flew in a week ago, the concrete strip only freshly being deemed fit for flying while the perforated-steel-plate strip still handled the bulk of air-traffic... so their ignorance was forgivable.

[b][i]"Clem!"[/i][/b] Yuril barked, [i]"Captain Yuril Greggor of Mikoyan-Gurevich model 23, Bulgarian Air Force."[/i] He reported, in a thick yet clear accent of an officer; he then clicked his heels and bowed at the chinese person before edging towards the door, it was likely there were to be more questions, but most of them were probably along the same lines as the first. The Afrikaaneer probably wasn't yet in on the joke, but after he'd gotten his callsign Yuril had began replacing all his 'Roger' with 'Clem'. As a man of few words, it was nice to be able to convey to a friendly requesting aid that a fast and capable fighter with an experianced pilot inside was coming to assist in one word or less.

(only doing about 100 km/hr less than the official world-record at sea level; see also: SAGEBURNER, Mach 1.16 vs ~1.20 /w warload)