The private airstrip was little more than a three yard long track wide enough so that transport aircraft wouldn't tip their wings when running along the runway. A tower, little more than a fifty foot tall scaffolding with stairs and a boxy office at the top conducted aircraft. An fifty year old antenna and radar array topped the office, it still had the Conway Construction Limited logo on its side. Probably the company contracted to make this little slice of crash landing heaven.

Their gear, vehicles, and finally the team was loaded onto two former Free Quebec KCC-101 heavy lifter v-tol transports. Based on the old American military Osprey, the KCC-101 had four large propellers and a boxy cargo bay. The flight crews did pre-flight checks as Weller Group grounds people finishes loading everything aboard. The logo on the tails of the aircraft read Northern Bush Services. A slogan of 'no destination to remote, no price to small' was painted on the fuselage of each aircraft.

It wasn't a bad outfit, a quick check using a hand terminal or a portable phone would reveal that the Northern Bush Services had been in business for nearly twenty years. And they were accounted of some of the best Bush Pilots in the northwest. And they didn't come cheap.

Aside from the team's gear, vehicles, and personnel the aircraft were also loaded with crates of medical supplies, tools, replacement parts, electronics, sensors, military style rations, portable housing structures, building materials, and a lot of spare tires for the notorious Big Boss ATV. Aside from the team there were eleven other Weller Group employees flying out to Emblem. From there they would be dispatched to various locations to establish monitoring and communications relays sights. Ostensibly for to support he team that would be going deeper into the region.

The flight was smooth. The weather was clear and sunny. The winds created a little slipstream but not so much to slow their flight. There was one run in with a CS patrol that followed the FCC-110s for twenty minutes or so. But, the pilots had the proper transit authorizations and the cargo manifest scans were spot on, though they did not include the team or its gear.

As the KCC-110s approached Emblem a similar aircraft was leaving, a blue Trade Tour Inc. passenger liner with a pair of RPA flying alongside. Tourists, it made everyone laugh at the thought. Landing was easy, the v-tols needed less room to land than they did to take off.

Once on the ground the KCC-110s maneuvered near to the forest leaving nearly a mile between themselves and the town. As the engines cycled down the flight crew went around releasing seat harnesses and un-dogging the cargo. A small army of trucks, two dozen at least, was approaching. The lead vehicle bore a tall radio mast with a red and gold Weller Group flag hanging from it.

As the team stepped from the aircraft to await the unloading of their gear and vehicles a tall woman walked up to them from the truck. She was lithe and moved with a precise grace. Once she drew close the wind billowed her long coat from her body to reveal that she was a partial cyborg. A NG 45 LP pistol was holstered at her hip and she wore light body armor also.

"Good afternoon. my name if Veronica Mosby, you will call me Vector, it is my callsign." The woman said in loud voice to be heard over the background noise. She pointed a collection of tents and temporary structures behind her. "That is our base of operation here in Emblem. It will be considered to be the home base for you expedition. You can refer to it as Field Camp one, or FP1, as needed. Please make your way over to the large green prefab structure with the radio mast at the center of FP1 at this time. You will find Mr. Mountain there and a dinner of local foods. A senior  field coordinator will brief you and hand out data packets for your journey."

    When Willy got to the airport, he was excited, and it showed.  He couldn't stop grinning ear to ear.  He had never been higher off the ground than a few dozen feet, whether in a building or hovercar.  Only in his wildest dreams had he imagined flying above the clouds.  He looked every bit the gawking first time flyer, staring at the largest flying machines he had ever seen, looking at everything inside, even the process of securing the cargo & vehicles seemed to fascinate him.  He didn't seem to understand most of it, but it was "the most excitin' thing I've seen all year!"  Most of the flight he couldn't pull his eyes off the scenery out the nearest window, even if he had to crane his neck at an almost painful angle to do so.
  Princess seemed just as excited, but did NOT like how it made her ears feel.  Once she was over that, tough, her tail didn't stop until they were landing again.  She seemed just as excited to be on solid ground again, & immediately rolled about for a bit.
  Willy recognized the pistol on Vector's hip, the one on his own hip identical except for the color.  He gave her a polite nod & greeting, making sure Princess didn't get in the way of the workers unloading.  When everyone was ready to go, he headed over to the camp.

 Perhaps unsurprisingly, Killian doesn't spend a lot of time interacting with Princess, for much the same reason most humans wouldn't spend a whole lot of time making nice with someone's pet monkey... He also seems to take the flight more or less in his stride, although that's simply on account of how his military service saw him shipped around by Coalition aircraft whenever necessary, so he's plenty used to looking down on the world from a great height - even if he never did and likely never will get to try out any sort of powered armour, much as he might want to.

 Property-wise, he doesn't own anything he's not carrying with him which tremendously simplifies the process of shopping for supplies since he also doesn't have much in the way of money and no easy way to spend it without flagging security checks, so he pretty much spends his time en route sitting by a window and watching the miles flow past while enduring any jokes made about his wanting to stick his head out with at least a modicum of dignity.

 Arrival now? Well, he pretty much just steps on down the ramp and offers Ms Mosby a salute while she lays down the law before answering with a simple "Ma'am." and looking over at the others to see if any assistance is needed unloading and debarking (hah), at which point he'll step in and put his muscles to work.

After the meeting, Nutball had introduced himself once everyone outside.  My name is Nutball, but my family, friends, and coworkers calls me Nutball.
After gingerly petting Princess, because he has little experience with dogs, he wks off in the direction opposite the airfield.
When the other arrive at the airfield, there he is, dressed in his charcoal-colored Gladiator full-environmental body armor, with its black trim, utility belt, and bandoleers of grenades, and yellow piping. Over the faceplate of his helmet is a yellow smiley face with a bloody bullet hole in its forehead, over the words "Have A Nice Day!"  A pair of vibrosabers are carried cross-sheathed upon his back, a NG Super Laser holstered on his right thigh, a vibroknife in his right boot, two silver-plated knives at the back of his belt and one in sheathes on each of his vambraces, three bandoleers holding twelve rifle grenades each, and ammo pouches upon his belt.  With a C14 Firebreather in hand and a pack on his back, he seems ready for anything.
As the others approach, he raises the faceplate to reveal the same cloth, over-the-head comedy mask he had worn in the meeting, and he points over his right and left shoulders, respectively, to begin introductions to nobody at his sides, This is my brother, Al, and my sister, Franc.  They're fraternal twins.  Luckily, since they're ghosts, they didn't have to sign a contract.
On the plane, he sits with a seat for Franc and Al on each side of him, seatbelts fastened, apparently, something that was there, but not there.  He spends the flight reading the file folders provided by their employer in a quiet voice, as though reading them to somebody.  He even seems to answer questions.
On the ground, he seems distracted during the introductory briefing by... Veronica Mosby, or Vector, was it?
At the mention of food, however, she suddenly has his undivided attention, as he takes off his helmet, then looks in the direction mentioned.  Ugh.  More data packets, he mutters as he begins the walk towards the indicated building.

Hawkins had slept most of the flight out of long established habit.

Still he had helped with Mei's horse and greeted Al and Franc politely before he nodded off.

When he walked down the ramp in Emblem he looked more like a war robot than a person. Gone were the bright colored civilian clothes, replaced with 'borg armor and a host of weapons.

He had a helmet under one arm and a Wastelander motorcycle over his other shoulder like a duffle bag.

At the bottom he listed to Ms Mosby's greeting and nodded.

"Howdy Vector, I'm Hawkins."

Theresa arrives at the airfield much the same as she left the briefing, the only changes are a long coat she wears more like a cape and a bag from the local market that eventually reveals itself to contain an astonishing variety of snack foods and candy.

The Osprey is clearly new to her, as is its complicated safety harness system that takes her almost ten whole seconds to figure out, but the flying itself doesn't distract her from the snack bag even for a moment.

Their arrival comes a few minutes after she finished off the last of what must have been twenty or more pounds of sugar treats that don't seem to have effected her in any way.  And she sticks around for the update to the briefing only long enough to hear where Mr. Mountain is being kept before she heads off to check on the accommodations.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:35, Wed 21 Apr 2021.

At the airfield Jen arrived now dressed in the decorated suit of Urban Warrior armour, with a modification of a sheath for her tail and the helmet handing on a loop at her hip.  For loading was a NG-480 hovercycle with a pack on the back.  Greeting the others warmly, though giving Killian a wide berth and a bit weary of Princess, some predatory mutual respect maybe.

Climbing onto the transport aircraft she runs a hand over it, fingers touching a junction box and her head tilting for a few moments, a slight frown and then a nod, finally a smile spreads over her features and a bounce comes to her step as Jen locates a seat to sit in and get secured.  Through the flight her attention is split between the reading of the data packet by Nutball and something that distracts in her own head.

After landing and leaving the transport she pets the side of the fuselage almost tenderly before watching the unloading and then paying attention to 'Vector', head tilting at the mention of food, then nodding and heading off after Theresa towards the outpost.

I do hope the locals are not vegetarian.

Sunyi arrived for the flight dressed the same as he was for the briefing: clean and well-made, but simple and a little threadbare, travel clothing. He had a small energy pistol at his hip and a backpack stuffed full of as many scientific tools and instruments as he could carry.

He'd been in the air before. Both of his parents were pretty badass spellcasters, so he'd been around more than a little. All the same, this was his first airlift across North America so he was excited to have a look around.

Once down he hopped off and was pretty much ready to go instantly.

He smiled at Jennifer's comment. "Let's hope they aren't cannibals first."

Not that Wyoming had a fierce reputation or anything.

But still.

Moving into the Weller Group camp was easy. The layout was straight forward with clear signs pointing the way to the facilities of the camp; medical, armory, motor pool, communications, information, cartography, cafeteria, supply shop, etc. Tall lights stands were positioned all around so that the camp would be fully illuminated at night. Around the perimeter of the clearing where the town, camp, and airfield was located, security patrols were always on the move.

In the town, less than a quarter mile from the camp, it was plain to see neat rows of old houses, a small school, a fire house, and the old courthouse. The town was busy with tourist clicking photos, trying so called 'traditional American' cuisine, or buying knock-off articles of authentic clothing.

Walking toward the Weller camp country guitar music emanated from the vicinity of Hawkins chest and he sang quietly,

"Canniballlll vegetariannnnsss on the Lone Prair-ieeeee..."

"They might eeeaat youuuuuu...but they won't eat meeeeeeeee!"

He was still carrying the bike since it was such a short trip.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:34, Wed 21 Apr 2021.

Pyro enjoyed the flight for the most part, although she enjoyed flying under her own power more. She knew though that that had a limited duration and using it to fly out to the Weller Group camp might use up her power when she might need it later. So she took the ride with the rest of the team, though they didn't feel much like teammates at the moment. Of course they'd just met each other and were still getting to know one another too, so the feeling of them being teammates would come later.

Once they landed, Pyro kept an eye on them offloading her hover bike, something she took a lot of pride in having. It was in decent condition, not perfect but then the only way to keep it in perfect condition would be not to use it. As she used it quite a bit to get around from point A to point B and anywhere else she needed to go that she didn't want to show off her powers to do so. Checking she had the rest of her gear, Pyro nodded and made her way over to the camp and looked things over. So far there didn't seem to be any surprises.

Mei appeared at the plan in what she'd been wearing to the meeting- a heavy woven silk robe, swords at her hip. But with her came a horse, a muscular black steed, loaded with what else she called her own. A few half-empty bags. A suit of wooden armor. A bow and a small collection of arrows fletched with feathers. A flute carved from a shoot of bamboo. Very little, all told, even compared to some of the others.

At the edge of the airstrip, she knelt. Silently praying, eyes closed. It only took a few minutes, her fingers ran through the grass before she stood again. Leading her horse to the plane and readying to take off.

On the plane, she was silent for most of the journey. Though it was clear she was uncomfortable being strapped in. Moving and twisting inside the restraints. But she was, at least, able to accomplish one of her travel goals. When Hawkins awoke, it was with a few long strands of grass from the edge of the airstrip tied loosely together and set into his lap. Mei, sitting next to him, clearly struggling to suppress a grin. However, she refused to address the matter further.

When the plane landed and the seats released, Mei was nearly the first one on her feet. Leaping up, rushing to her horse. Leading it out of the craft as quickly as she could manage, stroking its flank as the creature recovered from the stress.

There wasn't much to say to the approaching vehicles. Mei mounted up, and rode into the encampment.

 Inexpensive, unsealed armour... A sword, a standard-issue rifle and a sidearm with half the magazine slots on his webbing empty. In terms of battle-readiness, Killian ranks somewhere near the back but he seems willing enough, even if he's fairly quiet - although not so quiet that he doesn't rumble "Killian." when the introductions are passed around and groan a quiet "MOM augmentation. Right. That'd check out." a moment later.

 Theresa gets a sharp look mid-way through the flight, but no accusations or judgment... More a sort of assessment and a faint, air-expelling 'chuff' before he goes back to the window.


 When it turns out that there's no-one who needs a damn' thing at the airport, he shrugs and adjusts his webbing a little before hiking the short distance into town, stretching his legs a little into a lazy, ground-eating jog as he does so.

The Weller Group personnel were friendly, mostly. There was some side looks and obvious surprised stares. But no one was openly disapproving or unkind. There was music filtering out of a dozen tents and the mix of people working for the Weller Group in the camp was surprising. There were more dog boys, some funny-looking aliens that resembled living cucumbers, local tribal natives, and there was even a honest to goodness Federation Battle Magi walking guard next to a Juicer. All wore Weller Group articles of clothing and an identification badge.

Entering the core of the camp was similar to entering a bazaar of trade meet. There was a large central area with tables and benches. A big bonfire burned away. The was a large elk spitted and roasting over the flames. In open faced prefab shops people prepared equipment that had been just delivered from the aircraft. To the eastern edge of the central area came the biggest shock for most. Whoam Mountain, the teams mountain giant local guide was sitting on a large tree boil sipping beer from a steel bucket. Though, it did look more like a mug and less like a bucket in his big hand.

A tall, older man in Weller Group coveralls and a 'cowboy' style hat was walking up as the expedition members filtered in with their gear. He was carrying a box in his hands and had a big smile on his face. He had the look of a academic but the facial scars of a veteran.

"Hello, hello." Said the older man with the box. He set it one of the tables. "Please, please, help yourselves. These are the latest in maps and data downloads from our topographical studies. I included radio code logs, their disposable similar to those used in the military with a standard advance cycle in case of the need to avoid electronic eaves dropping. Oh, and, there are photographs of map reference points and constellations based on point of view to use as quick navigational references as well."

  As Willy makes his way into camp, he will make sure his hover car & gear is taken care of, wanting to know where it will be if he needs it.  The surroundings seem to put him more at ease, like he prefers a camp to a city.  He's smiling the whole time, an even bigger smile than ever, if anything.
  He'll look over everything handed to him, taking mental notes.  In his head, he is already thinking about possible routes to take, sometimes softly muttering stuff like "well, we've got horses & such, so we can't go that way".
  When he sees the giant, he almost seems startled.  "Dang!  Now that's what I call a BIG drinker!  I wonder how much he eats?  Fer that matter, does he walk everywhere?  That'd be important to know fer the trip."