<strong>Ansem Hyral 0710 Pilot training, En route to CiC </strong><br/><br/>Ansem had heard the the communication but the body needed time to readjust to full oxygen or it would go into a "pilot's high" for a few moments and stopping was out of the question. He signaled for the pilots to halt once they reached the one hour mark and ordered for the masks to slowly up the oxygen intake. Within a few minutes they all went from huffing and wheezing asthmatics in a smoke section to a "normal" breath rate. Most of them had broken a sweat, when the order to release the helmets came, the hisses on the latches all pulled at the same time. His hands quickly went to the back of his head, his elbows parting and his back arching backward to open the airway for a few breaths, everyone else seemed to do the same.<br/><strong>"Alright, go get some chow and report to the hangar bay in ninety minutes, suited and booted, move out." </strong><br/><br/>A smile crossed his face, all of them would welcome their helmet next time it went on for the mission. Finally he tapped his com and sent his delayed response to the admiral.<br/><strong>"Morning sir, oldest trick in the book it will have those boys on edge today for the mission." </strong><br/>He did not care what TEC regulation was, none of that was ever written or considered in the heat of battle. War was not the manuals some brain typed up without the knowledge of handling a weapon, as far as he was concerned if his methods prevented casualties and gave his boys the upperhand he would continue to break any TEC, regulation. The oxygen-deprivation was equivalent to banding the upper arm during a workout, once released the blood (air in this case) would pump freely through the body and enhance it naturally, an alternative to aggression or any other combat stimulants. He checked his watch and walked back towards his secondary room housed in the barracks, everyone else was changing and heading to the mess to say anything regarding what they had seen. He quickly changed up into a spare flight suit and wrapped his officer's coat over it before reporting to the mess. Ansem went for the nearest wrapped nutrition bar and shake before he walked towards the CiC, but first he needed to stop by his room for the helmet which gave him the time to eat his breakfast.<br/><br/>Walking into the CIC, with helmet hanging from his right hand, he moved and looked at the 3-D display before him.<br/><strong>"Pft is that it, looks like I can schedule and early lunch." </strong><br/>Kris would never know that she was partially responsible for the surge in confidence, along with his new rank, loyal soldiers and something he had seen in those men and woman he had not seen in a long time.