Al poured himself a snifter of whiskey. He didn't get all wrapped up in the fact the glass was supposed to be used for larger quantities of wine or the fact, that he held onto roughly 8 ounces of some of the finest spirits he'd tasted. This glass was enough to get him drunk and he planned on arriving in the land of inebriation sometime this evening. He also wanted to get in a work out session.<br/><br/>The<span style="font-style: italic">sand table</span>Callum used was similar to one he used in the Martian Army. His platoon leader would upload operational data, graphics and the enemy situation into the database. When presented, the soldiers of the lieutenant's platoon could see the mission in three dimensions. It made it easier to put out an operations order to soldiers. Obviously this tool had a purpose here on the Feronia as well and Albert Perez could appreciate that fact about as well as anyone aboard.<br/><br/>'Snatching a painting out of an old military bunker?' Albert thought to himself. Seems like an easy enough gig. He wondered how much he could rely on his crew mates. Callum appeared to be fit and at least eager. He was unsure about the engineer. He appeared to be out of shape, but he had met many men who's appearances could be deceiving. He agreed to give the engineer the benefit of the doubt. The doctor on the other hand gave off bad ju-ju vibes. Albert just wasn't sure how to take him.<span style="font-style: italic">Yes, of course the salsa is spicy!</span>Al preferred his salsa HOT.<br/><br/>'The Aeria region?' Al considered this. He did a quick scan of his memory to figure out where he had heard of this place. It was on the other side of the planet from home; not one he was extremely intimate with. It may have been two thousand kilometers north west of Ratheon where he fought against the Krasny Oktyabr Brigade (Red October Brigade). The thought of that operation caused him to caress his cybernetic prosthetic legs. He had lost both in this region about fifteen years ago.<br/><br/>Albert did not know the Aeria region, but he'd seen maps of this area before and knew it was mountainous, similar to the Pyrenees separating France from Spain. He'd never tackled the Marauders of Murder, but figured they couldn't be any worse than Krasny Oktyabr. "The best way to be real quiet is to come in by parachute at night. Any of you gentlemen have experience descending by parachute?" Al's question was directed at Callum, the doctor and Ettin. He didn't want to spring on them a low orbit insertion using oxygen masks and vacuum suits. That may be a bit much for those not experienced in this sort of thing. He threw the question out there just in case.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Though the bunker has to be found, first. We have coordinates, but my buyer ain’t sure on the specifics of it. So we’ll need to be hot, armed to the teeth. Got that covered Al?”</span>Callum Dereeve asked former Martian Sergeant First Class Perez.<br/><br/>Al sipped at the glass and said, "I have a rifle and a pistol. If our friends have rifles, we should be halfway there. Any chance we could pick up some ordnance? A light machine gun? some explosives? grenades and maybe some light anti-armor weapons?"<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“Ettin, I’ll need you on the ground to use the surveyor. Hopefully you can locate this underground bunker. Plus any extra hands will be useful - And finally Logan,” he looked at the strange doctor, still unsure about the man. “Bring a med kit and stay out of the way. I hope you know how to shoot. If not, hopefully Al can give you a crash course.”</span><br/><br/>"This sounds great, boss. Is there any chance we can identify the bunker from orbit? That way we can view it from the Feronia and drop in on top of it without wasting time on the surface looking for it. The longer we are on the surface, the more risk we stand in being spotted by the Marauders."<br/><br/>After the meeting, Al went down to his training area. He set up the range for those who wanted to target practice, but that was not what he wanted to train on at the moment. He had changed into shorts and a T-shirt, then strapped on a pair of 16 ounce boxing gloves. With the gloves on, he ran laps around the training room. It was only  about 50 meters by 50 meters, but large enough to get warmed up in. Halfway down one wall, he stopped and broke into a burpee. He squatted with his gloves touching the floor, thrust his legs out behind him and into the push up position. He executed one push up, then quickly brought his legs back under him and stood up, jumping. Then resumed his jog. Every 30 meters or so, he would stop and perform three to five burpees.<br/><br/>Once he felt he was warmed up, he stood in front of the heavy bag hanging from the ceiling. He began tapping away at the leather bag. Jab, jab, cross. Stop and rest. Jab, jab, cross. Stop and rest, repeat. He continued with this combination for 90 seconds. Then stepped back and went into squats. After performing squats for sixty seconds, he dropped into the plank position and held that for 120 seconds. He stood up, went back at the heavy bag. This time, he threw jab, cross, hook, right round kick and repeated this combination over and over again. Al continued to do more training until he started to get fatigued which was about forty five minutes into the session. Once he began to feel fatigues, he stepped up the work out, making it more challenging. He knew that the real gains in training didn't begin until after the muscles were fatigued. This was the time to increase the intensity, not to take a break. The Marauders wouldn't give him a break, so he wasn't going to take one in training. Albert continued his work out session for another two hours.