A shudder ran through the cargo hauler's hull, and with it all manner of different sounds - the subtle groan of metal under stress, of containers shifting alongside each other, of countless bits of loose, smaller metal objects rattling against each other. And beyond that, the more human sounds of coughing, sniffling and shifting around for comfort. Despite the relatively spacious area meant to serve as the hauler's cargo bay the room felt tight, the majority of the space taken up by the same mysterious hulk that had been kept in the back of the darkened hanger back on Smuggler's Cove, now covered in tarps and canvas that further obfuscated the object beneath. Sitting between the cockpit hatches and the rest of the cargo bay, that left the cramped rear of the compartment for the twelve or so mercenaries that had been hired for the job, as well as their gray suited contractor - who had them huddled around a holographic display on the deck plates.

"-as said before, our target's an IMC facility. There's a bit more to it than that, though, and we wouldn't need this much help if it was just a smash and grab. What you're looking at right there is Airbase Sierra."

"Hold the fu- Demeter?" While the bay had been quiet and the mercenaries largely silent since the gray suited soldier had last exerted some measure of presence and authority, that bit of information finally led to at least one of them speaking out - to which the rest uncomfortably shifted, although one or two remained silent and attentive, unruffled by the revelation.

"One of its moons, yeah."

"You're nuts."

"Possibly." The response, while outwardly humorous, betrayed no sense of sarcasm or discomfort on the helmeted man's part - rather, his response was painfully matter of fact and impersonally objective before nodding back down to the holographic display of the IMC facility. "Not without a plan, though. We've got codes and clearance for landing, enough to get us down to the surface for a few minutes and cleared again for take off, provided we can neutralize the Spectre inspection team when we land without making a fuss."

Reaching down to the map, a gloved hand would point to one location before tracing over the display.... and over several blocks of buildings, practically opposite the small landing pad initially indicated and to a much larger one at the far end of the complex.

"The problem is getting you over here. Most of the base's security is automated by necessity, which is why we're not expecting much fight if you do your jobs right. Maybe one or two patrols of human guards between here and there, and we've got one or two people on the inside. The main issue is that we need to take Flight Control here-" - another finger to the map, a different location closer to the larger airfield - "- and one of the air defense complexes here to buy the window we need out. After that all you people need to do is get to the exfil, which you'll be informed of when that window opens."

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