He listened, as the construct slipped out, idly noting that no one seemed to react to the seven other divine class constructs scattered about the room. He knew they were there from long habit, checking the area constantly and in far more detail than anyone other than Lord Dispater would, or someone equally paranoid. He abruptly wondered how the old coot had made out, before remembering it as Dispater, and he was probably running Hell now, rather than Asmodeus. He shook his head slightly, remembering the battlefields and all the Death Squad members that hadn't made it back, they were now almost a tenth of a percent of their original number of a million, but every last one of them could kill almost anything with a bit of preparation, and most with almost none.<br/><br/>He asked the pertinent questions, faking the interest he would have had, but several companions seemed to have noticed he was merely faking it, though the sound of engines screaming outside saved him from being called out. At least in front of the 'kids.' "Alright, transports are outside. Gonna give rides to the plane to whoever wants to tag along, and focus on getting it cleaned out, freshed up, and back into service. Along with good food, better training, and a dogged determination to ensure I am not sending my family out, unprepared, into the wilds of this park of an MPV again."<br/><br/>The transports hovered, just off the ground, bristling with weapon emplacements, each now housing nearly two dozen weapons rather than the six they had had during Ragnarok, and had engines that would get them from here to Union in a week if they didn't have 'squishes,' r organics, on board. Once the interested were on board, he had them lift off, his base armor, the extra, massive plating no longer attached, now looking like a metal bodysuit, but would still provide protection that would cause any mortal to drool over in envy. He glanced at the camera display, which showed what they were approaching, and spoke knowing the others on the other transports would hear him as if he sat beside them. "The massive hunk of metal we are heading toward is the Amaterasu, and the one to the side is the Inari. Dreadnaughts, that saw all of us home, with nearly two and a half millennia of service, enough firepower slag a plane in a day, and enough armor to take all the fire of Ragnarok at once and giggle. The only two we built, and both survived that journey home. Those paying attention will notice the battle scars, the fact that both have massive sections of their outer hull missing, and having hundreds of weapon emplacements missing. These two handled the wars during the journey home the best, sad though the thought is, and the Amaterasu is able to house organics, but the Inari, the smaller one, is combat only. Nowhere on board to store troops or evacuees. Much to our dismay. There were a few dozen times when we could have used it."<br/><br/>He stopped speaking, instead shaking his head at the memories, not willing to talk about them, as Jashah still hadn't gotten to those yet. The trip was relatively short, only an hour or so, and the family weren't allowed out of the loading bay, before the transport disembarked above his and V'elen's personal plane.