A small, cramped, cold cubicle; that’s exactly what Harper needed. A mild claustrophobe and a bad flier (she was so much more comfortable below the water than above the ground), so far this ‘special mission for outstanding individuals’ felt like a tailor-made hell for the young Naval Diver. So far she’d spent most of the flight sitting on the bed back against the wall, wrapped in all the blankets they’d given her, eyes shut and listening to her iPod and trying her best to block out the small quarters, the cold, the turbulence or that ceaseless drone of the aircraft engine that was stopping her catch up on sleep.<br/><br/>When they’d unceremoniously woken Harper in the middle of the night and told her to make ready for departure, this was the one personal item she’d brought with her out of the grand total of one that she’d been allowed. She was sure as hell missing her hairbrush, what with her dark, brown hair looking all tousled and messy. But, given the choice, she’d have taken the iPod every time. Music helped her relax, especially before a dive. She’d switch on something she knew and murmur the lyrics as she ran over her gear. Her superiors swore that one day she’d be distracted and make a mistake, but Harper always felt that softly singing along to one of her favourite bands and going over the routine checks blended together well and kept everything cool and learned-by-heart.<br/><br/>“<em>… Oh in the sun, sun having fun, it’s in my blood. I just can’t help it, don’t want you here right n-</em>Fuck!” USND First Class McAdams swore as she felt her stomach drop and jolt in the rough turbulence, her blue-green eyes snapping open reminding her that, yes, she was still trapped in this little box. She heard the crackle of a vox message and tugged an earbud out to catch the last part of a pilot’s message informing her to put a thermal suit on and brace for turbulence.<br/><br/>“You don’t say…” She muttered to no one in particular, massaging some of the life back into her cold legs. She wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to get changed amidst all the bumps and drops but she figured they’d be a little better if she was warmer.<br/><br/>Sighing she swung a lean leg out of bed and staggered to the plastic chest in the corner, feeling for all the world, like she’d been drinking half the night with all the staggering she was doing. She pulled out the first, plastic-wrapped, vacuum-packed suit she found and threw it on the bed, trying her best to unbutton whilst the small room to’d and fro’d around her.<br/><br/>The young woman shivered as she slid out of her PT uniform, goosebumps springing up instantly on her smooth, pale skin. Harper decided to keep on the white tee she had underneath her uniform and started pulling on thermal under-layers, wondering if anyone was covertly watching her get changed. After that came a dark, woollen pullover, matching stockings and mittens and the thick, bulky, orange thermal suit, pants and gloves that went over the top. A whole bunch of harnesses, clasps and devices remained in another bag, but she figured she’d worry about them later. That she was cozy and warm was good enough for her now.<br/><br/>She jumped back on her bed and sat cross-legged, taking the little PDA they’d left on her pillow for her in her clumsy, gloved hands. After struggling to turn the thing on in the thermal layers, she tossed it aside, too frustrated, distracted and lazy to take her gloves off and deal with it properly. Over and over in her head, Harper puzzled over what exactly was going on. They’d told her to relax and that she was safe here, but being told that by mysterious, black-suited men wearing sunglasses indoors is never quite as reassuring as intended.<br/><br/>Harper figured that having dived in Antarctic waters on military business previously was what had singled her out for this, but it still left an awful lot of questions unanswered. Then again, she was a military girl; she knew when to keep her mouth shut and trust in the authority.<em>Still…</em>This entire business, even now, unsettled her somehow in a way no other mission had before and Harper McAdams wasn't a stranger to 'TOP SECRET' orders.<br/><br/>On a whim she stepped up to the side partition and quickly hit out the Morse Code for ‘Hello?’ with the side of her gloved hand, wondering if there was even anyone on the other side at all, let alone whether they understood Morse, or would reply in kind.<br/><br/>((First come, first serve for whoever wants to be next door!))