Certainly some variance in experience, wasn't there? Thrones herself had gotten in due to a deal between her superiors and the CEO of Retra Corp, and she was fairly certain she would have been considered lacking in experience otherwise, but to think that there were a selection of other relative rookies...curious.

Then again, maybe not so curious, seeing how they still had a final examination to go through before being officially accepted. Nodding at the others who had introduced themselves as the call signs they dropped were already melting away from her mind, the Sankta leaned back into her seat as tremors began shaking the aircraft. Outside, the roar of another, greater engine sounded, and through her sliver of sky, Thrones could see but a portion of the citadel in the sky, a sight that grew more impressive as they got closer and closer. Worthy of a story, for sure. Must have burnt up a blue whale's worth of Originium as well, maintaining those altitudes and speeds, but a megacorporation could afford it, no doubt.

Wouldn't be dealing on a national level otherwise.

Tensing up as docking procedures continued, Thrones squeezed her reader between her thighs and kept her hands gripping the mesh of her seat. Even then though, it felt like she was barely sitting down at all, and she frowned. Air travel was fine, but landing and takeoff were never things she could grow accustom to, especially when they were technically landing [i]in the air[/i]. Still, she wasn't sweating, and she didn't feel sick. Definitely wasn't going to be [i]her[/i] that needed the barf bag. She unclipped herself and made her way down to where the operator-candidates were converging, her duffel bag carried on her shoulder. Wings made it a bother to wear backpacks, after all; the Exercitus Laterano issued specialized 'frontpacks'...but those were also a bother to wear.

When the topic of food was brought up, Thrones was the first to address the blond Mustelid. [b]"A couple Danishes would be nice. And some smoked bacon."[/b]