[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/d7d1c4e0-aa92-4c92-8deb-93fa326e5d30.jpg[/img]

[h2]Enroute to Evac Operative Terra Nova[/h2][/center]

Rave's fist slams into the wall in anger and he takes a moment to calm himself before replying. [color=SteelBlue]"Copy that, Nova. Hang tight, we'll find you."[/color] Turning off his transmitter but leaving the receiver on, the Spectre growls in annoyance. What kind of idiot didn't pack flares into the emergency survival kit of whatever she had been in when she ended up here? That was going to require some rectifying if he ever got ahold of the bastard, but for now, time was of the essence. Facing the pilot, he pointed towards the storm. [color=SteelBlue]"Triangulate her position from the last communication and head for that location. If the storm is as bad on the ground as it looks from the sky, she shouldn't be exposed to it for too long."[/color]

[color=DarkGreen]"Understood, sir. Triangulating her location now. I'll let you know when we're getting close."[/color] Nodding, Rave returned to the troop compartment and took his seat at the front, resting his chin on his fist. At this point, they'd really gambled their base location, and after getting airborne, the psion had radioed back to the command center to shut down the loop to avoid having their base located before the base was ready to defend. Not to mention Matt would have picked up the signal eventually and given him and Jim an earful, even though Raynor was the commanding officer. Turning to the combat medic, who was cleaning her .45 caliber revolver and inspecting it, he addressed her.

[color=SteelBlue]"Sergeant, you've seen the storm outside, correct?"[/color] The medic looked up as she finished reattaching the cylinder and began replacing the bullets, a nod coming from her after a moment.

[color=FireBrick]"Aye, sir. Since most Ghosts run with combat visors instead of full helmets, or at least the female ones I've met,"[/color] the Ghost in across from her, a red-head, gave her a glare the medic ignored, [color=FireBrick]"I reckon Miss November isn't doing too well. Parched throat, skin being shredded by the tiny grains of sand and dirt. She'll likely survive, but be severely dehydrated and fatigued."[/color] Nodding a thank you to the combat medic, Rave leaved back, contemplative. One of the marines spoke up.

[color=Turquoise]"So what you're saying is that long term exposure is bad, but our Ghost friend here will be fine if she remains at the short term exposure mark?"[/color] Loading in the last round, the combat medic nods as she spins the cylinder.

[color=FireBrick]"That's right, PFC. So we'll want to move fast. And while I'm thinking about it, there's a chance that some local predators hunt in these storms, looking to catch food that was caught unawares by them, so keep on your toes and your heads on a swivel when we disembark. Make the extraction quick and to the point."[/color] Rave grinned beneath his helmet, though his eyes didn't betray it. He liked this medic already.