Jennifer Diaz, an aspiring life long enlisted Marine with no goals to push up into the ranks of officers, had been on so many bogus rescue missions where a postal colonist blew up the communications array as ground forces put rounds into his ass that she almost, almost for a second, considered this something along the same lines. But one does not survive combat drops expecting the normal, Jennifer was alive today because she was prepared for the worst, the absolute worst. Today, it would seem it was going to stretch her imagination to the limits as to what would be 'worse' than the situation being painted out for her now. The young CommTech had her BDU's and drop boots already on, and her sidearm was secured to her thigh. She was combat ready, so she liked to believe. Her eyes scanned the room periodically while she leaned comfortably into her chair.<br/><br/>Jennifer wrote a few things down on her TCT Datapad as the briefing went on. Her eyes lingered only for a second as the video played, nothing really caught her attention till the end. The weapon. It disintegrated someone quite easily, and cleanly, which was bad because M3 didn't protect against that level of badass. Her head throbbed at the idea of someone having energy weapons, and it did dawn on her to comment as to why ground forces couldn't secure highly dangerous weapons at the first sign of trouble, or if they even knew. That kind of question gets one thrown out to a far-reaching colony where even God hasn't been yet. Still, Jennifer's experience taught her to never underestimate what someone might do for a profit, she'd seen it before and on nearly every combat mission she'd jumped on things went haywire sometime after they got comfy. These rescue missions were always unpredictable because the first thing to go nuts in a crisis is information, and the second is judgment. That meant colonists, if any were alive, would possibly be armed and a bit trigger happy. Aggressive Marines plus antsy and armed colonists meant a bomb meeting a lit fuse in a bar.<br/><br/>She used her booted foot to drag the chair which had her feet propped up a little closer. She saved her notes on the datapad and put it down on her leg, clipping the small pen back into place. Her notes consisted of a basic drawing of what she thought the facility might look like with damaged hallways from her limited memory of the place, names of anyone of importance and of course her personal input; which usually revolved around using weapons, explosives or all of the above. Anything else that came up she'd just update her notes or lock it up in her head. When the question floor was open, Jennifer cleared her throat quietly and raised her hand. "<strong>Sir, what kind of technology was being researched at the Citadel? Should we expect more energy weapons? What about biologicals, should we go in under the impression we have an airborne threat?</strong>" Jennifer asked loudly, her eyes never leaving the Lieutenant Colonel's, but her back was straight and her knees bent 90 degrees with her feet on the floor. Natural response from being on a ship for so long, flag officers everywhere.