With all the purpose in the world, Imir made his way across the base, eyes forward, hands at his side. He’d received the call, and he knew [i]exactly[/i] where to go. Or, at the very least, he gave [i]the impression[/i] of knowing where he was going. Every once in awhile, he’d glance around to make sure he was on the right path, before referring to the map he’d tucked into his sleeve—and then turn around once he realized he was heading the wrong way. Every time, he began to walk a little faster, and eventually, he’d broken into a half-jog, determined to be on time to his briefing.  It was a great relief, both to his conscience and his legs, when he finally found his hangar, not a minute too late. 

He squinted as he stepped from the overcast brightness of outside, to the dim light of the hangar. The GEARs were all arranged in a semi-circle in their jet forms. Close enough to be in easy reach of one another, but not so close that they’d collide. In the center, he spotted a very tall woman in uniform, standing almost unnaturally still. He couldn’t help but laugh a little—he knew the look. The fight to appear anything [i]but[/i] nervous. And now, it was time to break the ice. “Commander Trenton?” He called out to her as he approached, straightening up and performing a crisp salute in her direction. “Lieutenant Kelsea, reporting for duty.”