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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Mark Chance" data-source="post: 1636042" data-attributes="member: 2795">Seventy-two hours passes like the blink of an eye. By 1000 on Thursday, 11 December 1942, the four newest American metahuman recruits are in a military transport plane, having stowed their duffles and other gear. PO3 Gaines is with them. He hands out itineraries after the plane reaches altitude."We'll be at Fort Lewis being briefed by 1300," he explains. "We'll get mess at the same time. We're done by 1400. The plane'll be refueled by then. We depart Lewis at 1430, destination Adak Island. That's a longer flight. Probably around 2000, we'll land at the airstrip on Adak. I'm sure the commander there will want to talk with you, so dinner's going to be late."The flight to Lewis is somewhat dull, but conforms to Gaines's schedule of events. As soon as the plane taxis to a halt, Gaines leads the group to the nearest building. Inside are three long folding tables set up in a U, surrounded by more chairs than are necessary. A portable field kitchen is set up. Steam rises from the mess. Salisbury steak, baked beans, boiled carrots and broccoli, and buttered yeast rolls are tonight's menu."Grab a tray and serve yourselves," says a burly man in Army uniform. His ranks denotes him as a major. "I'm Major Hazard. Once you've grabbed your chow, have a seat."</blockquote>