All Jennings heard from the cabin was the angry march of Jennifer’s boots, the pilot soon shuffling in her seat as she excitedly prepared for whatever orders the sergeant brought. With a brief glance back, she responded to the veteran with a quick nod and “Yes ma’am,” before returning her gaze to the flight window. It looked as if things were heating up as she prepared to drop them there and then, her finger just about touching the switch for the landing gear when a sudden transmission interrupted her. In a second anticipation had been replaced by frustration as her day found itself upside down at the sound of a second set of orders crackling through her headset. There went the “hard and fast” directive, substituted instead by the “sluggish exchange” -- one that could only become heated after the warning sent by the ground personnel. Seriously, did they just threaten to shoot her down on the first call? Jennings could already feel her knuckles turning white as she tightened her grip around the flight stick in anger. Grinding her teeth she took a deep breath and gradually calmed herself before working up the effort to reply without a torrent of expletives tossed into the mix.<br/><br/>“Uh… check my IFF signal ground-control, it should be pretty clear that we’re from the station Prometheus,” she responded with more than a little bite, “Now can I have a rank tower-jockey? I need to know whether or not I should be ignoring you. My current orders have me dropping in the forest, not your precious<em>‘let’s blow up random objects’</em>outpost.” In a barely audible tone she sighed, “Thanks heavens, to that.” Beside being more than vague she was also lying of course, even if an officer with enough stars to decorate the Milky Way replied she was going to leave it up to Jennifer. In the end, that didn’t seem like the tone she’d expect from a base that had just sent a distress signal.<br/><br/>Patching through to the cabin, Jennings came over the intercom. “Sergeant, we’re receiving some communications from the outpost, they sound alive if a tad unfriendly. Not sure how I should say this but they’re threatening to… fire at us. As far as I can tell, we have two options. I can either drop down out of range of their guns, meaning a very long and dull hike toward the citadel, or comply with whatever orders they may have and hope we’re not shot down or ambushed by terrorists upon landing; it’s your call.” She felt a little bad laying such a choice on the sergeant’s shoulders but it was her mission and the corporal didn’t want to start off the day by superseding commands through rough guesswork. If by some miracle a ranking officer did reply would they even be able to trust it? Information on the mission was sketchy at best so anything was possible.