Inga ate a hardy breakfast. Her plate was full of proteins and carbs long lasting food athat would keep her going but not weight her down. Her favorite snack though kippers snacks, smoked kippers spread on saltines, Not that they were serve in the mess but she did manage to pack a few cans in her own pack. (6)

As the Sgt calls the team out for inspection, she pops up with alacity and falls in

“Yes Sgt,” Corporal Johannsen reporting, Sgt.,”. she replied crisply with a smart salute.

Inga had all her gear cleaned and what needed to be polished was –not tha rangers had much on their field dress since a glittering button could reflect into enemies’ eyes. Everything was properly carried in its place and within easy to reach—be it weapon or med pack. By the book it was. Know the book, follow the book and you made fewer mistakes that way. Oh, she listened as well to the old timers and others with more experience than she had but mostly she followed proper procedure. However, she had packed a few extra items that are not exactly regulation. Four sticks of antiperspirants, silk underclothes.

Inga was quite familiar with the intense cold of Norwegian winters and skiing in cold conditions. Silk wicked away moisture from the skin and therefore one could stay warmer than if sweat is trapped next to the skin. What really worked well is using an antiperspirant on the feet and well as several other more commons areas to slow down the production of perspiration.

When he finished she did have a question to ask. “Permission to speak, Sgt.”

If given permission. “Sgt., Besides the ammo we have been issued, how much extra ammo will be dropped with us?”

James managed to finish his breakfast before the Staff Sergeant arrived for the inspection. When the Staff Sergeant calls for inspection, he followed orders and moved to an empty table and began to lay out his gear.

He opened the action on this M6A1 carbine laid it on the table along with the loaded 7 magazines. He removed his M9A2 9mm pistol and removed the magazine and worked the slide to unload the chambered round and laid it out.
He set his belt out there that contained his grenades, his Surefire Defender flashlight, and other small items, waterproof matches, Swiss Army knife, wire saw, half a dozen snap light sticks.

Last he set the rucksack down and opened it showing it’s contents: Food, water canteen, candles, water purification tablets, extra clothing, 50ft of #550 parachute cord, etc. His artic sleeping bag finished off his gear.

The only thing he didn’t lay on the table was the Chinese short sword that was strapped to his back. This item was sacred to him, having been passed down to him from his grandfather and he had always carried it during his time in the corps. Being small and light, their had never been any problem with past commands in his carrying it and he didn’t expect any now.

After the inspection was complete, he quickly re-stowed all his gears as it had been and moved out to the truck that waited to take them to the airfield.

James is impressed by the aircraft and excited by the method with which they will arrive at their destination. He follows the others with the corporal and stows his gear in the duffels and gets dressed in his flight suit. He hates this part, having to go without his weapons, though he hardly thinks they will need them in the Drone. He does keep his sword, he straps it to his back over his flight suit, he refuses to be completely unarmed.

Boarding the drone he waits for the order and then gets strapped into the bench seats of the drone, anxious to get to their destination and get this show on the road.

OOC: Backposting based on dialogue with DM
As Charlie finished her packing, the computer running the search programs gave a long low wolf whistle, and as usual, it made her smile a wicked little grin. Popping up from her crouch by her kit, she keyed a few commands into the keyboard, black nailed fingers flying, and transferred the dossiers of her new team and official outline of Project Twilight Seed to her laptop.

Shutting down her laptop, she packed it carefully in it’s case, the neoprene cover making it waterproof and providing some insulation against the coming cold. She’d have some light reading for the plane ride, and she couldn’t wait.

(Mess Hall, 07:45)

OOC: Not sure if Bro will post the inspection of Blake’s equipment and kit bag, but will backpost if necessary. Charlie is, however, very deliberate in ensuring she’s packed up again well before the others arrive. Sarge can inspect the others all he wants, he doesn’t have the right to demand to inspect her equipment.
Equipment re-packed and secured, Charlie waited for the Lieutenant to dismiss her before making her way to the food tables. She grabbed a can of Red Bull, a coffee mug and the most sugary donut or muffin she could find before making her way to a table. Spotting Lee and Johannsen, she slid in beside them and dug into her breakfast. (If Lee insists on saluting her, she’ll roll her eyes, then grin and tell him, “At ease, dude…no need for the theatrics with me, k? Save it for the trained apes.”). Pouring the Red Bull into her coffee cup, she pulls a small jar out of her kit and sprinkles brown granules into the cup and stirs vigorously. “Instant coffee,” she explains when eyebrows are raised,” the Bull just doesn’t have enough juice for this high octane engine.”

Over her breakfast of champions, Charlie chats with the others, asking them about past missions, their experiences, anything they’re willing to share. When she asks you a question, she looks you straight in the eye as you answer. It’s as if she truly wants to know. For her own part, she tells little, claiming she “messes with computers for the Man, you know?”

When the Staff Sergeant arrives for inspection, she lets the others do their show and tell, taking the food trays away and standing off to the side. When the Staff Sergeant apologizes, she watches him coolly, but stares into his eyes searchingly for a moment before returning the salute.

“I wish you hadn’t needed to be ordered to do that, Staff Sergeant,” she replies in a mild tone,” but we are all bound by who we are, I suppose. I’ll take this mission as an opportunity to ponder any disciplinary action. Who knows, you may yet surprise me.” With that, she slings her equipment packs into place and heads out the door to hop onto the truck awaiting them.


At the airfield, Charlie grins back at Corporal Bale, finding his eagerness infectious. When he makes a comment about there being a weight limit, she leans in confidentially towards him,” It’s ok, Bale, my man, I ate lightly.”

But it’s when they are aboard the B-52 and taken to the scramjet that Charlie’s eyes really light up. Her orange jumpsuit quivers with suppressed excitement as the Corporal describes the little jet.

"The X-66 is computer guided," he explains. "You won't be needing a pilot. Once the B-52 gets up to twenty thousand, the X-66 will launch, take you up to forty thousand, and kick in the burners. At Mach six, it will still take you better than two hours to make the flight to Antarctica, but I can't think of a quicker way to go almost nine thousand miles." He grins and shakes his head. "Why someone would want to go there that fast is beyond me!"

“Oh man, “Charlie wriggles in her harness,” The X-66 is totally the bomb! Tell me, the AI, is it the XJ-76 or the Sendai 180? The XJ has the killer geo-positional guidance systems but the situational gyrocomputative capabilities of the Sendai just blow my mind! All the calculations needed to keep one little errant air flow from sending you into a face plant at Mach Six. Oh trust me, boys and girls,” she assured her team mates, “we are in for one primo ride!”

With a happy sigh, Charlie settles back into her harness, looking like a kid jumping into their favorite ride at the amusement park.

Monty had arrived at the mess hall to find Blake ready and waiting for him. Their private meeting consisted of the Lieutenant casually probing a little into her professional past, trying to glean a little more about her personality, and doing what he could to learn as much about her as possible. Why was she so valuable to the military that they'd allow her obvious indiscretions? What made Blake the oddball on his team, and would her value overcome the risk such a non-conformist represented? When he had the chance, he also asked if she had the dossiers for the team, since he wasn't provided the paper files for review. He'd want to get into the specifics behind each individual on the plane if possible.

After the meeting, Monty had grabbed his breakfast (a light meal as he wasn't usually prone to eat a hearty breakfast) and had made his way to the table where the rest of his team had gathered, returning salutes with a salute of his own and a quick, "As you were." He'd eaten in silence, listening to the conversation incited by Blake, and carried on by the others, quietly evaluating each individual's personality. When Kane performed the Kit inspection, Lt. Kernan left him alone, remaining aloof, perhaps as a way to show the Staff Sergeant that he trusted him to his duties, or perhaps because he wasn't interested in the mundane aspects of leadership. Whatever the case may be, he shouldered his pack and weapon, and led his team to the tarmac.

The B-52 was a big airboat, there was no doubt about it, but Kernan had flown in them before on numerous high-altitude jumps. It wasn't that he had become so accustomed to the thrill of the flight and the resulting mission, but he'd grown very good at hiding it, remaining absolutely calm in the face of his command, and thus providing his personnel a stable platform from which to react. The X-66 was another story, however.

"“Oh man, “Charlie's excitement was near childlike in Monty's opinion, and not something he shared,” The X-66 is totally the bomb! Tell me, the AI, is it the XJ-76 or the Sendai 180? The XJ has the killer geo-positional guidance systems but the situational gyrocomputative capabilities of the Sendai just blow my mind! All the calculations needed to keep one little errant air flow from sending you into a face plant at Mach Six. Oh trust me, boys and girls,” she assured her team mates, “we are in for one primo ride!”

Keeping his opinion of relying on computers to do the flying to himself, Lt. Kernan motioned everyone to get strapped in, placing himself next to Chief Blake so he could share her computer terminal for personnel review.

"Let's get this party started," Monty called out above the drone of the engines, giving Corporal Gere the thumbs up indicating the team was stowed and ready.

May 8th, 2025
Inside the X-66 Scramjet - 0900

Corporal Bale stammers at the unexpected questions. "I... er... that is..." he blushed. "To be honest, ma'am, I have no idea what you are talking about. I *do* know that you need to strap in... have a great flight!" With that, the young man makes a quick exit, making sounds about "preflight tests" that need to be done.

After stowing all gear and strapping in, the team has nothing to do for the next half hour but to sit and stare at one another. Finally, there is a shuddering, a sensation of motion, and soon, the mammoth B-52 is airborne. the takoff goes without incident, and once the correct heading is reached, you spend another twenty minutes waiting for the ancient bomber to climb to the proper altitude and reach the pre-arranged waypoint.

Suddenly, a red light flashes on one of the forward control panels and you hear the thunderous roar of air. The X-66 slowly rises on a narrow rail and is lifted over the open cargo doors of the B-52. Abruptly, the alarm stops and your stomach lurches into your throat as the scramjet is dropped from the bomber. Before you can even react, the scramjet fires with a force that threatens to snap the safety harnesses. You struggle to remain conscious as the X-66 continues to accelerate, its jet screaming while the drone streaks across the stratosphere while gathering enough speed to reach Mach 6.

Half an hour into the flight, another red light begins blinking, but this time, is accompanied by an ominous-sounding audible alarm. There is something flashing on one of the computer screens, but you are strapped in too far away to read what it might say.

Monty had done his best to remain visibly in control during the launch of the X-22 despite the huge pressure he felt and the urge to black out. Rangers, by nature, weren't prone to succumb to such simple things as G-Forces. Despite this line of thinking, it was all he could do to remain conscious and aware, peering towards the others to determine their stamina and finding the results rather pleasing (despite feeling like breakfast had been a bad idea himself). He and Blake had taken the time before the X-22 flight to review dossiers and as they jettisoned from the belly of the B-52 he used facts he could remember from each case file to help steady his mind.

Computer pilots... no consideration for their passengers.
The lieutenant had just gotten used to the extreme nature of the ride when he caught the flare of a red gemstone out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head slowly towards the panel his brow furrowed as the red light reflected in his wide pupils. That's not good.
"Chief," Monty said calmly, his eye still on the light. "Please tell me that the flashing red light means the bathroom is occupied."

As Kane slipped into the safety harness for takeoff he thought back to just an hour ago, to his surprise they had all passed his inspection and though he really did not know them personally he was proud of them maybe this Op would go as planned.
Then he laughed to himself as the old Army motto ‘Situation normal all F*** up’ crossed his mind and he knew Murphy’s Law always ruled.

Takeoff proceeded as planned and they were airborne and on their way Kane picked this time to catch a nap as he had learned long ago. But in what seemed like only minutes out from the airfield a red light begin to blink accompanied by an audible alarm.

Without a pilot or aircrew the Staff Sergeant had no clue as to what to do, for the first time in his military career Staff Sergeant Jeremiah Kane was at a loss. It was here as he was grasping for a thought that LT spoke up and
Kane signaled his readiness to give his assistance to the LT and awaited orders.

(Edited per DM's Q/A Post)

The gloomy interior of the scramjet was lit only from the console and the light from Charlie’s computer. In the artificial light, Charlie’s pallor was made luminous, and her eyes seemed to glow from within the hieroglyphic markings of her eye makeup. The silvery blue orbs flickered up to glance around occasionally, but were mostly fixed on the scrolling information of crew dossiers. She’d positioned the laptop so that the LT had the best view, and could advance the information himself when he was ready…she was accustomed to being the fastest reader around, and had learned patience.

She paused in her reading when the first alarm sounded and barely suppressed a whoop of glee when the drop slammed her back into the web harness. Charlie loved anything fast and dangerous, though brief jaunts to amusement parks near her posting were all she could ever negotiate. She’d wanted to buy a motorcycle, had researched the options extensively, but had been overruled…seems the powers that be wouldn’t risk her splattering herself to bits on a donorcycle…

The second alarm roused Charlie from her speed induced ecstasy and she blinked a moment in confusion. "Chief," the LT said calmly from beside her, as if discussing the weather, "please tell me that the flashing red light means the bathroom is occupied."

“Crappity! Don’t I wish!” Charlie muttered, and struggled with the spider's web of a harness holding her in place. Getting the harness undone, she pushed to her feet and made her way to the console, bracing herself with every step in case of direction changes.

Leaning into the console, Charlie’s fingers caressed the keyboard with a lover’s touch, tapping the commands for a system status update. Characters spilled across the screen in response, and she read them almost as fast as the pixels flashed onscreen.

OOC: Need to know what the problem is. Charlie will do what she can to diagnose and fix the problem….hopefully, it’s just that the inflight movie is overdue for return to Blockbuster, and not anything more serious, lol

Edited after the physics lesson

James sat back and closed his eyes as he waited for the plane to take off. This part was boring.

When the jets really kicked in and the force of acceleration slammed his head back into the headrest it woke him with a slight curse and a gron. He must have dozed off for a moment. Once the plane smoothed out somewhat he closed his eyes again. He had always had a knack for sleeping whenever he could. One never knew when they might get to rest the next time.

The sudden warning claxon roused him again...'now what?' he thought. Seeing the red light flashing he sighed, "This doesnt look good," he mumbled.

He isnt an electronics expert so he sits tight while the LT and the Chief take control and investigate. He doesnt do anything yet, he doesnt want to get in the way, but he sits ready to lend assistance if ordered.

He wonders what sort of bailout system this plane could have aboard. Moving at this high speed and altitude makes parachuting a suicide waiting to happen.

Inga stashed her gear about her fastening it down tight. No good losing all the medical suppies or her pack and weapons. THe trip on the B-52 was noisy to say the least but old workhorse still flew well enough.. She had brought a book with her and read to while away the time. The medical book was a classic, “Gray's Anatomy”.. Of course it was more pictures and diagrams that reading but it contained a wealth of information that she was memorizing. She would be applying to medical school when she ws ready. No reason not to use down time like this to get this memorized.

The scram jet was small and there ws not much more they could do other than be strapped into the seats and wait for touchdown. When the jets kicked in they kicked like a mule.

Mack 6 wasn't too bad for short bits of time but the constant high acceleration was quite difficult. Breathing became a labor and you had to fight it or you would succumbing to the pressure and black out. Being really physically fit helped.

When the first alarms sounded Inga was not worried though she did not know what it was for. When the red light started flashing and the alarm continued. Then she was concerned.

Inga looked around to pin piont where the alarm was coming from as if she could figureout what was flashing for what reason. Only she didn’t have the slightest idea. Inga continued to wait for any orders though she stashed her book in her pack and closed it up tight.

She waited to see who was responding to the alarm. and some were already, so she made no attempt to get up figuring she would just be in their way in the cramped quarters.

May 8th, 2025
Inside the X-66 Scramjet - 1034

Chief Blake makes her way out of the restraints and to the front of the plane, discovering the pleasant surprise that, despite the X-66's extreme velocity, she is able to move about freely. Well, at least as freely as one can when forced into a semi-crouch due to a low ceiling.

As the team's teachie reaches the control panels at the front of the craft, she is greeted by a friendly display next to the flashing red light.

Warning! Incorrect course detected - inadequate fuel supplies for current chosen path.
Correction required!

Fortunately, she has little difficulty in convincing the onboard computer to allow her to enter a new course. With her blessing/curse of a memory, Charlie immediately recalls the the coordinates of WhiteHorse. Quite a bit tougher is working through the cumbersome navigation interface to make the damned machine actually accept a new route. After several minutes, the alarm silences and the screen changes.

Computing....done.
New course accepted. Estimated post-flight fuel reserves are 3%.

The remaining hour and a half of the flight consists of the boredom one would expect.


**********************

The X-66 gracefully descends into the inky blackness; through the small cockpit window you can see heavy snow rushing to meet you. You hear the drone of the landing gear descending, and after a few minor adjustments (that alternately pin you to your seat and throw your stomach into your throat), the scramjet lands safely.

As an equally thunderous silence engulfs you, your team removes their respective safety harnesses. Momentarily, the silence is overwhelmed by the roar of wind as the aircraft's hatch is opened. Peering into the fuselage, dressed in a heavy artic coat and goggles, is a nondescript soldier.

"Come with me," he says in a heavy accent. "The Arctic Cat will take us back to base where you can talk to Major Carrolton. He can answer any questions you might have."

The chapped face beneath the goggles grins. "Welcome to WhiteHorse."

As you are led to what is presumably the Artic Cat - a huge cross between a tow truck and a snowmobile - you can see other parka-clad soldiers unloading your gear and hooking up the still-steaming X-66 for towing back to the hanger. The wind is breathtakingly strong, whipping tiny pellets of snow like so many frozen razor blades against your unprotected skin. The flight suits may have helped with the g forces of flight, but they do a poor job of insulating you against the bitter cold, and all of you are shivering lustily in short order.

The drive back takes nearly fifteen minutes as the Artic Cat creeps along the tarmac on creaking treads. Finally, you arrive at a small, dark building with a pair of soldiers stationed at the door. Entering, you meet a large, bearded man with bronze skin and dark hair. the soldier who met you outside introduces you to Major Carrolton.

"So you survived, eh?" he asks. "Well, I’m sure that the government will be happy to know their scramjet can do more than just transport cargo."

Major Carrolton rises to his feet, easily reaching six and a half feet in height. He extends an enormous hand to Lieutenant Kernan and then continues.

"We’re getting a chopper ready to fly you out. We’ll have to wait until the weather breaks, so you’ll be staying with us for a few hours. You can get some rest if you need it. One of my men will show you to some private quarters."

Charlie blinked at the coordinates on screen and the enigmatic message “incorrect course detected” and wondered what idiotic codeslinger would design an interface that didn’t verify such things during input, instead of after the flight had already commenced. “And they wonder why the space program is so screwed up,” she muttered to herself.

After some searching, (and the occasional admonishing slap of the monitor), Charlie was able to enter the correct coordinates and was relieved to find them accepted.

“Ok, peeps, just a typo on our destination. Hang onto your cookies in case the course correction is a little abrupt,” she announces cheerfully and makes her way back to her harness. Fortunately, the scramjet adjusts course without any dramatic maneuvers and the rest of the journey is spent holding her laptop for the lieutenant.

Meanwhile, Charlie ponders the significance of the error that could have sent them off course and running out of fuel god-knows-where. She was under no illusions that she wouldn’t outlive her usefulness to the government; the contents of her head were too dangerous to be allowed out on the free market. No, she was pretty certain that as soon as some uber-geek emerged to beat her at her own game, she’d have an accident of some sort…but that hadn’t happened yet. Had it? This would be a pretty expensive way to get rid of you, kiddo, she told herself, not to mention the loss of personnel that the Rangers seem to hold in some regard…nope, this was just incompetence. When your number’s up, you’ll get that motorcycle you want, with a deadly flaw…or you’ll have a “successful” suicide attempt….not something this flamboyant and expensive…
With that reassuring (at least to Charlie’s mind) thought, she opened up the file on quantum physics, and soaked up as much as she could.

At the station, Charlie bounces out into the cold and immediately wishes she could bounce right back into the relative warmth of the jet. No matter how many layers she’d put on, this kind of cold seared through layers effortlessly, and she felt ice crystals forming in her bone marrow.

She didn’t want her chattering teeth to give her away, so the talkative tech was uncharacteristically silent as Major Carrolton greeted the Looey. She’d let him ask any questions, and the others if they had’em, for now, she wasn’t going to let any body heat out through her mouth if she could help it.

James sighed at the Chief’s words, he was glad it was something easily fixed, well at least for her. He wasn’t a techie so he was glad to have someone along who knew about that stuff. He actually hated this part of the mission and couldn’t wait to land and get to the real job.

As he sat back and waited for the plane to finish it’s trip, he had to wonder how the wrong coordinates could have been entered. He had a suspicious nature and something didn’t sound right. These types of things were usually double and even triple checked, he found it hard to believe such and important thing slipped by unnoticed. He let his worries go as he slipped back to napping for the rest of the trip.

He awoke as the plane made radical maneuvers before landing, god he hated this stuff. He was ready and as soon as the plane stopped, he hit the release on his harness and was up grabbing his gear. He nods to the soldier who waited for them and followed him out into the blasting wind. He shivered as the cold seemed to drive right to the bone, but he mentally steels himself and followed him quickly to the Artic Cat.

By the time they reach the base he is a bit warmer, but he silently curses as they have to go out into the cold once again to enter the base. Once inside he drops his gear and salutes the Major when introduced. James says nothing, letting those in charge handle it. If they need his input they will ask.

Once they are through with the Major, James salutes him once again, waits to see if the LT, Chief, or Staff Sgt have any orders. If not, he will grab his things and proceed to the quarters to rest a bit. As soon as he can he will get his gear back in order, dress appropriately and make sure his gear and weapons are in tip top shape, ready for the mission.

Upon arrival Inga makes sure she has all her gear personal, andmedical. She checks it off agains her list of items in her poket notebook written in indelible ink. ssatisfied she got it all off she then transfers it to the Artic Cat. Glad to get into the vehicle and out of the cold.

Once inside that she leans over to the techie Chief. "Sir, by any chance did you see what the wrong coordinates were?"

Inga takes the same care unloading all her supplies our of the Cat. though now she does it by count. 1..2..3..4.. until she accounts for all.

Inga makes her salute to the Colonel, but waits until after he has finished and her groups leaders have spoken. She does have a question to ask though before any rest. Inga hopes she can gain some practical knowledge of what sort of medical issues she might have to deal with because of extreme weather effects. Quick, proper treatment is crucial in such extremr conditions. The cold itself works against you most of the time. Any information she could get would help make her treatment of her team the best she could give them.

When all others are done she salute the Major smartly, "Major Carrolton, Sir, Corpol Johannsen, Medic. I request permission to speak with your chief Medical officer, Sir."

Monty gave the Chief a nod of approval as she returned to her seat having successfully changed things up. All confidence and calm, the lieutenant silently returned to peering out the small cockpit and considering what ramifications this deviation could entail. The Army trains paranoia into a person--especially a special ops person. You had to be paranoid to survive--everyone out to get you, the slightest disregard for a little old lady in a heavy coat resulting in the whole team being blown to smithereens by a suicide bomber...it wasn't a pretty world that the military trained you for.

These pleasant thoughts remained foremost on his mind for the remainder of the flight, even into the landing and right up to the point where they disembarked, if somewhat clumsily, from the scramjet to be received by the soldier. His team were all trained personnel; the files he had overlooked on the B-52 had attested to that. He had no reason to organize their boarding of the Arctic Cat, no reason to assume any of them didn't know their stuff. As a matter-of-fact, the looey was perfectly content to keep on considering the strangeness that was the malfunction, or prearranged failure, of the coordinates.

When they arrived shivering and jarred at White Horse, Monty was more than ready for the relative warmth of the facility. It had been cold enough that it was difficult to keep his mind on the business at hand. When meeting with the Major, Lt. Kernan offered a salute as was appropriate and then shook the man's hand, nodding at his statement.

"We appreciate the hospitality, Sir." Monty gave a curt nod. "But if I may; we need to report that scramjet's coordinates either malfunctioned, or were entered in incorrectly in the first place. If it hadn't been for the Master Chief here, me and my team could've ended up in God-knows-where. Chief Blake can give you further detail on what the on-board contained if you don't have the staff on-hand, Sir."

That little bit of information delivered to a superior officer was all Monty needed to relieve his mind of the responsibility such an oversight presented him. Sure, he'd keep in mind that there was the possibility this mission was a suicide from the get-go, but he'd handed the relative information over to Mother Army and could focus then on getting his team ready for the final leg of their mission.

"One final thing, Sir," Monty remained 'At Ease', his hands behind his back, clasped at the wrists as he spoke. "Is there any recent satellite imagery of the science station? Weather patterns, topographical and thermal imaging, any intel you've got for further consideration would be appreciated."

Barring any additional information that comes up resulting in continued conversation, Monty accepts the invitation to get a little rest, sure that his team won't be able to attain such a luxury for the remainder of the mission. He is not going to allow all of the time at White Horse to be spent in R&R, but will set his watch alarm for an hour before the E.T.D. where he will go over the information the Major provides (if any), and the information Blake can pull up on her laptop, developing a plan of entry.