"ODST's," Pedro-029 said, loading up his M90A shotgun up with 8 gauge shotshells, "Of all the people we could have got to assist us, we get stuck with ODST's."

"Well who else do you want to pick from, Colonial Militia?" Mark-220 replied, running a cloth down the length of his MA5C assault rifle before picking up the M6D Personal Defense Weapon which lay next to him, with which he repeated the process.

Pedro shrugged, "I'd rather take a bunch of half-trained Militia over a band of loco ODST's. You expect them to be much help? You can't ever get 'em to follow orders, they're too damn gung-ho for their own good."

"You could always use them for meatshields," Serrow-217 added, twirling a serrated knife in between his fingers as usual, his favoritism for close-range weaponry showing through.

Pedro laughed, "Yeah, good idea. Might make 'em useful after all."

"Ah, come on. I don't see why you guys constantly harp on them, I mean they're still on our side, we're all fighting for the same thing." Joshua-061 said, loading another can of biofoam into his thigh pouch, his M7 SMG lying nearby.

Pedro scoffed, "You ever spent more then ten minutes around a group of ODST's? They're like Drones, they work in packs, they'll tear you limb from limb if you give them the chance."

"Oh," Joshua said and shrugged before returning to reconfiguring his tacpad which was mounted on his wrist preferring to delve into fiddling with electronics instead of human interaction, technology he could understand, his teammates? Not so much.

"And I thought only Marines gossiped about eachother behind their backs,"

"Ah, come on 116. It's the truth and you know it." Pedro replied, slinging his M90A over his shoulder, the team's sniper resting on a nearby crate on which she had an M6D handgun gripped loosely in her hand, the team preferring it's compact power to that of the standard-issue M6C of most UNSC ground forces.

"It might be the truth but it doesn't mean you should engage in such behaviors," she said, pausing to flick the safety on her pistol before reattaching it to her thigh plate, "It's below you. And besides, you know what Leo said."

Pedro huffed, "Yes, I know what Leo said but that doesn't make me agree with his thoughts on it."

"You don't have to, Pedro. You just have follow my lead and everything will be fine, got it, Petty Officer First Class?" Leo said sternly, the Senior Chief Petty Officer entering the room as quietly as a mouse, Mark and Joshua falling silent at his entrance whilst Serrow continued to mess with his vast arsenal of knives, ignoring any possible drama about to occur.

"Yes, sir." Pedro replied, dejected, waiting for a the rammifications. Instead, a heavy hand was placed on his shoulder, the SPARTAN looked up, the slightly taller Senior Chief looking down at him.

"Don't worry about it, just make sure to keep things in check when we meet our new friends. No need causing an incident, the mission comes first, and that goes to all of you. We've got enough problems without having us at eachother's throats so I suggest you grab your gear and get ready while we've still got time." Leo looked around at the room of SPARTANS before turning to get his own equipment ready, selecting a BR55 HB from the arsenal, "The Covenant fear us for a reason, now let's give 'em another. We take out this Carrier, we limit their might in this sector, give us more time to set up defenses elsewhere. The more time we give our forces elsewhere, the more chances we have of winning this thing, understood?"

Silent greeted him, though he knew them well enough to know they were actively processing what he'd said, mulling over things in their minds, saying their silent prayers, pumping themselves up for the mission, he never would know what exactly was going through their minds and it didn't matter, all that mattered was success. And success was something they were known for, and he would be damned if they were going to fail now, with so much on the line, so much at stake. Failure was not an option, though if they did, they'd never live to hear about it.

"You okay, Leo? You don't seem yourself today, normally you'd be taking Pedro's side on this, not chewing him out for it."

"Rae," he said, "their is a distinctive difference between how I feel about the situation and what is best for the unit. It's part of being in command, and I wasn't chewing him out about it, I was merely making a point."

"Sounded like a good old fashioned butt chewing from where I was," she replied dryly, a slight grin spreading across her lips, half hidden by her bangs, then she reverted from that back into her serious mission-minded mode, "Sauvagine got any more data for us?"

Leo shook his head, "Nothing, just a name, presumably for the ship. Otherwise, nothing we didn't already figure out from previous bouts with the Covenant."

"Care to share, I figure that wasn't all that the AI told you," Raevynn replied, slapping a magazine into her SRS99C-S2 AM sniper rifle, knowing how chatty AI's tended to be especially when mathematics were involved or chances to prove their superior intelligence.

"Odds, she gave me the odds."

"Odds for what?"

"What do you think, Rae? I know you're smarter then that."

"Maybe." she replied another coy grin that quickly disappeared, she enjoyed pushing the Commander's buttons every now and again, "Care to expand on it anymore then that or am I going to have to ask her myself?"

Leo smirked, "I wouldn't even force my greatest foe to do that, let alone you. I trust you can keep things quiet about this?"

She gave him a mock salute, chanting, "Sir, yes, sir. Senior Chief Leo, sir."

"I could have done without the sarcasm, thank you very much." he replied, running a hand over his helmet before looking into her eyes again, "But our odds aren't looking too good, even for SPARTANS."

"So they're bad even by our standards?"

"Exactly."

"Then we maybe in a bit of a jam, Chief."