[center][i]activating... running diagnostics... updating iff designations... updating iff protocols... charging weapons... aion activating in 3... 2... 1... ...Hello, Pilot (Designation: King). Awaiting instructions.[/i][/center] [hr] [b]The Armada Sector Date 5115.64 Time 1801[/b] == The hangar bay was a buzz of activity, as it always was, but perhaps a bit more frantic than usual. The signal had just gone throughout the Elysium- they had reached the point of no return. Across the Red Line. Shard territory. As it was, any Pilot worth a damn (read: every one currently stationed on the ship) was, somewhat frantically, checking up on their Dragons, making sure they were combat-ready in case of a sudden scramble order. In other parts of the enormous hangar, the Anima pilots were doing the same, but with much greater detachment- after all, their fighters only had the most basic of AIONs attached to them- they didn't need quite the same care as one of these... Admiral Serrano started to shudder slightly, but suppressed it. He needed to portray a certain front to his crew. It wouldn't do to show fear at such a crucial junction. Besides, they were on the same side here- it's not like they would try to hurt him. The one time it even had happened, it wasn't even her fault... Serrano frowned as he forced his train of thought back on track. He was being ridiculous. He felt at the tangle of emotions at the back of his head where Sakura resided. Their reunion had had... mixed results, but they were both intelligent enough, at least, to put their issues behind them. They were a team again- they needed to be a team. For the sake of the Operation. He looked over toward where he knew she would be waiting. Perhaps... perhaps he could take a detour... An image flashed in his mind. Black blood. He grit his teeth. No. Not yet. Suppressing a tired sigh, he continued his rounds of the Dragon pens, watching as Pilots and their teams of technicians (in some cases) clambered over the beasts, checking diagnostics on everything from combat readiness to their current mood. Commendable, but mostly unnecessary, for now. According to their projections, they were in a low-patrol area. The chances of being attacked here were slim, and they would know well-enough in advance if any tried. He cleared his throat. [color=9e0039]"Vi,"[/color] he muttered, addressing the Elysium's own AION. [color=00aeef][i]yes, admiral. how may i be of service?[/i][/color] [color=9e0039]"Projection. Hangar bay, Dragon pens."[/color] A short blare of an alarm sounded, drawing the attention of the Pilots and technicians. Serrano made sure everyone was listening before proceeding. [color=9e0039]"Attention: all Pilots, proceed to Situation Room A for briefing. Briefing will start at 1900 hours. Thank you."[/color] With that, he turned and began walking to the transport that would take him back to the Operations Deck, where the meeting would take place. He struggled to tamp down his nerves and... excitement, as made his way out of the Hangar Bay. [color=9e0039][i]This is it. We're finally doing this. We finally have a chance to win...[/i][/color]