Lorens flips through the kneeboard in his hands. "[What was command thinking?]," he says to no-one in particular behind the comfort of a language barrier, scratching his head as he tries to work out the all the details. A cacophony of metallic clangs and whirs finally tears Lorens' focus away from his materials. He looks up in time to see the technicians raise a factory-new Gauss cannon into the A-10's coaxial slot, which until now was occupied exclusively by the Avenger.
Poking out of the shroud where the familiar seven-barreled muzzle once was, there now lay only a single barrel, surrounded by the end-housing of what he guesses is the final coil in the linear motor. It was a foreign sight, to be sure.
With all the weapons now in place, Lorens puts on his helmet and makes a cursory pass over the pylons before climbing into the roosterpit. He spools the engines, warms up the avionics and hails the tower for clearance to taxi. The marshaller shows him out the door, and he rides the 'Hog onto the tarmac.
Lorens lets his eyes wander as the A-10 comes up behind several other aircraft in line for a minimum-interval take-off. "[This is going to be one hell of an operation]," he mutters to himself.