Everyone shows up nearly on-time for departure. Your team members double-check that they have all the equipment they need for the possible 2-3 week stay in the land way down-under.

A woman with short dark hair and dark eyes steps up to you. She's clad in black pants, boots, and shirt, covered in a black leather jacket. "Hello. You must be Robert Brennan."

She looks at the group. "Miss Hemingway described you all well. I'm Shadowcat." You recognize the woman from the picture Miss Hemingway gave Zeb. She picks up a duffelbag and small case, and follows you out to the airplane.

Before boarding, McHale approaches Shadowcat and asks, "Is Miss Hemingway always so dismissive?" She smirks and replies, "She does take some getting used to..."

Watching the crew take care of the plane, paranoia gets the better of you and you swear you sense something is not right. Dismissing the feeling, (how could it be, here at a US base?) you all board the military cargo plane.

The hold is meant for troops, but serves well for holding all the equipment you're bringing. Sitting against the walls, strapped into jump seats, each of you goes over all you have seen and heard. Some of you are reviewing notebooks and photos, while others are consulting laptops and PIMs. Everyone reviews the strengths of your fellow team members.

Shadowcat's bio mentions she's a freelancer and specializes in surveillance, urban infiltration, sabotage, and circumventing security.

Before long, the team is voicing their opinions about the impending mission:

McHale: "I think we've got a lot of heavy people here for this to be some little run-of-the-mill affair."

Baragli: "I really don't know; I don't have any background with either AE or CON and I've never heard of Mr. Billeter before."

Shadowcat: "Looks interesting, buy I'm a bit concerned about the lack of support. Whiteout base is a bit isolated, and the Antarctic isn't a terribly friendly environment..."

Hogan: "I think you guys are blowing this out of proportion. We were called together to do the intel recon right, not to wipe the base."

Martin: "I still think the two pronged approach would cause the least suspicion."

Kerr: "I really don't think a group of scientists is plausible. Perhaps a group of technicians called out to Siple Base, where those southern winter storms hit hardest (worst in 5 years) would be more likely."

Jack Thompson: "We could stage an air crash nearby. They're not likely to leave us out there."

Pausing for a moment, Jack adds, "Building on Ms. Martin's idea, we could split our team in two at the crash site. The victims and a second group hidden nearby before help arrives." As you turn to look at him Jack gets self conscious and says, "Oh, I'm no spy. You work it out among yourselves." He then goes back to reading the briefing notes.

Ms. Martin is alone in her carefree attitude. Once the plane takes off, she pops an unlabeled disc into a player and straps on a headset. Later, finished re-reading her notes, Shadowcat takes out a walkman and tunes out as well.

Baragli attempts reading the scientific journals she brought along for the scientist cover. This stuff is so boring! Then, thinking about everyone's thoughts on the mission, she drops the idea of the group going in as research scientists.

Looking around the transport plane, she stops for a moment upon several lockers located at the front of the compartment. Anna then looks out a window and is rewarded with a gorgeous view of New Zealand fading into the distance.

The rest of the group puts aside mission details for the moment, and are engaged in heated debate covering the strengths of the classic hog motorcycle over sleeker modern makes and models.

After an hour of listening to Martin's buzzing and static, Hogan taps her shoulder. "What is that Garbage you're listening to?"

"Yes," she replies and continues humming and moving her head to the beat. After another half an hour, she flips the disc over, plugs in an eyeglass frame with only one lens, and appears to be reading.

Suddenly, a sound like an explosion is heard from the front of the plane and the floor lighting indicates the side jump door. Bounding up, Brennan sprints to the front of the plane.

The front maintenance door is missing, the pilot is dead, and sparks and steam of some sort escape from the bloody control console and damaged inner skin.