"All set, folks? Right, here we go." The Technologist connected several cables extending from his helmet into receptacles at the side of his seat. He pressed several raised cartouches on a glowing panel in front of him covered with a profusion of clocks, lights and small levers with strange markings, and Grimm heard a whining noise start within the belly of the machine.

Flipping down a curved arm at the side of his weird helmet, Foster spoke the bizarre, unintelligible argot of Technology with a confidence that told of many years of familiarity with the equipment.

"Control; this is Hotel Romeo Two-Seven requesting permission to return this time. Five stragglers picked up, AAS, two thaumaturges in the group… yes, I thought you might be interested. I guess you'll have a lot to talk about back there. Hotel Romeo Two-Seven is preparing for dust-off this time; estimated ETA, one five minutes. This is Hotel Romeo Two-Seven, listening; out."

Grimm heard Foster muttering an arcane litany as he pressed more cartouches, almost as if he was patterning his mind for a spell in the manner of a Guild Mage. "T and P are nominal," muttered the strange man, "fuel looks good, APU is online, wind shear within limits, engine start."

A loud whine sounded from above the ceiling of the craft, soon followed by a spluttering cough, a roar and a steadily accelerating chopping sound. Looking up through a small window in the metal ceiling, Grimm saw the metal blades atop the machine start to rotate, faster and faster until they became blurred and he could no longer distinguish one blade from another.

Now Grimm could see why Foster had referred to the vehicle as a 'chopper'.

"Cyclic and collective look good, throttle answers," the Haven man muttered, casting his gaze upwards.