<strong><span class="bbc_u">Zoey Calhoun</span></strong><br/><br/>The soldier lowered his rifle when he saw that Zoey intended to be compliant.  While she gathered her things, he ducked out of the doorway and spoke softly under his breath.  With the dull roar of the plane's engines filling the air, it was impossible to hear what he was saying.<br/><br/><em>"If I had to guess, I'd say things are not going well."</em><br/><br/>The soldier did not respond, but instead took her comment as a signal that she was ready.  He stepped out of the doorway, looking to the right.  He kept his rifle lowered, but it was taut and still, ready to rise like a cobra's head striking prey.<br/><br/>"You continue on to you left, Doctor," he said quickly, gesturing over his shoulder.  "Go on up the hallway.  You'll receive further instruction there."<br/><br/>The soldier did not wait to see what Zoey did, but instead stepped down the corridor and began unlocking the next door.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong><span class="bbc_u">Sean Gallegar</span></strong><br/><br/>The soldier did not take Sean's banter well.  As he stepped up to the door, the soldier grabbed Sean by the nape of his shirt and shoved him through hard enough that he might stumble on the metal-grate floor.  The hallway was somewhat warmer than the room, but there was a constant stiff wind blowing through it, like a steady winter breeze.<br/><br/>"Fuck you motherfucker, get the fuck out of here!" the soldier shouted, following Sean out into the hallway.  "Get<em>up!</em>To your<em>left</em>moron, up the hallway!  Run!"<br/><br/>The soldier loomed over Sean, looking the jackbooted government thug ready to cave in his skull with an iron toe covered in hard rubber.  Rather than strike him, the soldier instead turned away and moved down the hallway, unlocking the next door."<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong><span class="bbc_u">Rebekah Graham</span></strong><br/><br/><em>"All you had to do was ask.  Lead on."</em><br/><br/>Rebekah could almost feel the woman's eyes narrowing behind that black visor.  After a tense moment, she turned away and stepped back through the doorway.<br/><br/>"Alright, you go left," she said, pointing to the left with a black-gloved hand.  Rebekah could see that she was missing her ring finger on that hand.  "Just keep going 'till you reach the end, just follow everyone else.  Now shake a leg Barbie doll!"<br/><br/>Without waiting for a reply, the woman moved on to the next door, undoing the mechanical and electronic locks with deft, practiced ease.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong><span class="bbc_u">Alec Llewellyn</span></strong><br/><br/>When Alec began to move, the soldier lowered her rifle.  She again spoke within her helmet as Alec left the room.<br/><br/><em>"Will Taylor and Fitzsimmons be joining us in the CIC?"</em><br/><br/>Her head snapped around as if his words had been a bolt of lightning, but all she said was, "Who?"  Either she had a terrible poker face or she was strung tighter than piano wire.<br/><br/>"Doesn't matter," she said, following him out.  "Everyone's being moved out, so I expect you'll see them en route, if not there.  Just go to the left, up the hallway.  You'll rendezvous with another squaddie up near the fore.  Pull rank."<br/><br/>The soldier turned away, looking down the hallway away from Alec, her gun raised.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The hallway you find yourself in more resembles a submarine than the interior of an airplane.  The corridor is small, barely wide enough for two people in heavy clothing or soldiers in half-kit to squeeze past each other.  When you had first been escorted here ninety minutes ago, it was orderly and empty, a neat row of mirrored doors stretching twenty meters through the belly of the airplane.  There were perhaps fifteen to twenty of the compact rooms, as you reckoned, but there may also be a second or even third level.  The fore end of the hallway ended in a slightly ajar hatch that seemed ripped straight from an aircraft carrier.  A single soldier stood there, either waving people through or directing them through an unseen door off to the side.<br/><br/>It had not been difficult to navigate the space before, but now a crush of humanity filled it. Nearly a dozen men and women of varied age and ethnicity -- likely other civilian contractors -- were struggling to press up the hallway in the direction you had been pointed.  They were not a crowd by any means, but the cramped space was claustrophobic in the way it confined them.  Six soldiers, including the one who just pulled you from your room, were moving methodically in the opposite direction, stopping door-to-door and pulling people from their rooms.<br/><br/>The bitter air was heady and thick with smells that the persistent breeze could not disperse: fear, anxiety, ozone.  It smelled like a bundle of desiccated hay downwind of a raging fire.<br/><br/>You found yourself in the middle of the press, people behind you urging you forward with their closeness.  No one spoke, but everyone seemed to be murmuring.<br/><br/>"What the hell is going on?"<br/><br/>"Where are we going?"<br/><br/>"This is fucking ridiculous."<br/><br/>"Lord, it's so<em>cold</em>.  Wh--"<br/><br/>The plane suddenly lurches.  For a brief and sickening moment, free fall seizes you.  Your feet leave the floor, your stomach drops away into nothingness, the dark envelopes you as the lights flicker out, and then--<br/><br/>The plane suddenly flies up to meet you.  The weightlessness vanishes as quickly as it came, and gravity yanks you back down to the floor.  There's a soft electrical whine as the lights power back on, although they seem dimmer now.  The walls tremble, the plane's superstructure emanating a dull groan that resonates deep within your gut as it warps and oscillates after the violent turbulence.<br/><br/>The press advances quicker now, three out of every four people being shunted off to the side like cattle into a slaughter chute.  Zoey is the first to reach the guard at the hatch, with Sean, Rebekah, and Alec following after her.  The guard holds up a hand, silently signaling Zoey to wait, as she touches the base of her helmet and speaks into the interior radio.<br/><br/>Another moment of vertigo and darkness seizes you as the plane lurches through the turbulent air.  This was not nearly as long as the first, but the lights took a little longer to come back on, and some further down the hallway were still dark.  The plane was banking now, declining steadily to the left.  It did not seem to be slowing, as what usually happened on a commercial airliner, but in fact seemed to be accelerating.<br/><br/>The guard had not shifted.  She continued to speak inside her helmet, leaning farther and farther to the right in order to compensate for the tilt of the deck.