It was quiet. Not the deafening quiet that made up the majority of red-eye military nightmares, but the not-quite silence that was the gentle songs of wind blowing by and the soft noises of sleep. No matter where one got assigned to, there were always moments of tranquility to be found. It was just one of the tiny things that kept a Spartan sane through the mental trials of war.<br/><br/>When the evening started to melt into night and the sun sunk under the horizon, Valkyrie replaced her helmet and moved to wake Gladiator. "I'm going to rack out for three hours. Wake me up then and we'll find Patric." She moved to the end of the bus and leaned against a bulkhead, staring at the expanse of road beyond through a gap in the wall. Finally, Valkyrie removed her helmet. She justified a human face as being slightly less recognizable at distance than the bulky helmet, but the only honest reason was that the breeze was nicer than the suit's climate-control. She needed that.<br/><br/>Even as Valkyrie relaxed the spartan's hands never left her weapon.