Straff caught all of this in the space of a few seconds. As soon as the trooper started speaking, he stopped, having seen another of his team give him a finger drawn across the throat.
This left another few hundred seconds for Dr. Straff to blindly think over his fate. The black fabric bag rubbed his nose and ears. The gunship's engines threw off a steady high-throttled chainsaw whine with an accompanying fuselage-vibrating rumble, and his ears hurt trying to listen for distinguishable sounds out of the dense storm of noise.
The noetic surgeon stepped back from his scope, rubbing the arched pink grooves in the skin around his eyes. "Nicely healed, sir. She's ready to go."
Dr. Greenleigh looked up from the whitepaper his tech staff had worked up for the procedure. He pocketed his reading glasses. "Enough in place to get into her memory flow?"