The pilots of Fox Squadron carried conversation in a relatively low murmur. Most were likely sharing stories about their escapades of the past week- some more embellished than others. More than one pilot seemed to be nursing a particularly nasty hangover. The fraternity that were the RDF Aviators- especially those stationed on Macross Island drank like college kids on spring break. The past week of festivities did little to curb their habits- rather the steep discounts meant that many of the pilots often spent even more than they normally would, and more then one squadron leader had to drag a crewman to a drunk tank this week. 

As it was, McKnight felt lucky in that he had yet to have to drag anyone's sorry hide back to base this past week. In fact, his squadron could've been called exemplary in comparison to some of the chaos several of the other- notably more rigid squadrons got into. Samuel's eyes flitted from his clipboard to the pilots lounging around him, sleeves of his jumpsuit uncuffed and rolled up to his elbows, pen rhythmically tapping at the clipboard itself. Normally he wouldn't care so much for check ins and dossiers, but the big brass were going to be rolling through the stick jockey's kingdom- otherwise known as the hangar- relatively soon, and he'd rather not start their first real deployment in bad standing. 

Most of the squadron were already doing their own thing at this point. Staten was busying herself with an exercise, Sam never knew where she got all the energy from. Montgomery was among their oldest, an Englishman like himself. Volkov, a big russian, Cho, a twitchy korean girl, and the Ryner twins rounded out the familiar faces of the squadron. The rest were new to McKnight, by a few days or weeks at most. 

The only notable face McKnight saw so far among the newbies was Goldman- though older than McKnight he was still technically a rookie, having just passed through the evaluation squadron along with the rest of their rookies. The only notable difference was that he cross trained into the VF-1s, meaning he had prior experience, which was more than could be said about a lot of their rookies who were fresh out of school and fresh out of training, with puffed up chests and shiny wings on their shoulders.  

McKnight's eyes glanced up from the clipboard as he heard the clack of boots against metal, and the subtle [i]swoosh[/i] of air that was a hand rapidly rising to one's head in a salute. The owner of the hand was a short woman, with warm golden skin, dark hair and equally dark sunglasses. McKnight rapidly flipped through the clipboard, looking for a picture to match the face to and had just found it when Staten welcomed the pilot- callsign and everything. McKnight shot Kat a look. She'd been looking through his dossiers. Again.

[color=coral]"Ease up rook,"[/color] McKnight replied to her as he checked off something on the clipboard, [color=coral]"You can salute me at my funeral- or whenever the big brass comes around. Whichever comes first."[/color] 

He opened his mouth to continue but was distracted as another pilot swung into their midst. The pilot introduced herself as Kalina Dragorima. McKnight internally groaned. The other squadron leaders had been talking about this one, trouble and with a habit of rebelling against authority. Looked like Sam drew the short straw for this one.   

[color=coral]"Well, I guess that saves me another round of introductions."[/color] McKnight muttered- a bit more to himself than anyone else. Looking at the two newest pilots to join them, he nodded at both. [color=coral]"My name is Captain Samuel McKnight, the boys and girls here like to call me Vapor. People like to call us Spec-ops pilots, but don't let it get to your head, you're probably about as average as the rest of us here."

"Around here, we like to keep it loose and casual"[/color] McKnight continued- gesturing to a couple of the more stringent looking squadrons in the hangar- Squadron commanders barked orders and welcoming speeches to rows of ramrod straight-backed pilots.[color=coral]"Don't take that as a free ticket to mouth off, slack off and do or say whatever you feel like, or you'll end up on toilet duty for a week or two like Junior here."[/color] he added as a caution, jerking a thumb towards a scrawny, freckled blonde boy with brand new flight wings and a butterbar on his shoulder who crossed his arms and scowled when mentioned. 

[color=coral]"Also, for the record, when we say meet at 0900, we actually mean 0855. 'Probably write that down."[/color] Sam half joked, as he finished up marking things on the clipboard and set it down on a nearby crate. [color=coral]"Brass should be coming to check on us relatively soon, so if you have any questions ask them now."[/color]

Pausing, McKnight turned around and opened up a nearby crate, pulling out a pair of black bomber jackets, electric yellow fox emblem stitched onto the shoulder and last name emblazoned across the back, and tossed one to each of the new pilots. Everyone sitting around in the squadron already got one earlier- and were either wearing them, sitting on them, or had them folded up nearby. 

[color=coral]"Oh yeah, welcome to Fox: Never fly straight, and don't die. 'Probably write that down too."[/color]