Private Orinda You Glad to See Me?

[Braze]

Tags: Laphisto ​

For a former Jedi with all the training and stealth of a Shadow, it was still somehow comically hilarious how he managed to show up in places he absolutely shouldn't.

Today was no different aboard the Tracyn. Braze, in disguise and testing his hand at subtle infiltration, wore a crew member's uniform, though some might say he was a bit short for a soldier. He was in fact looking for a scaly green tail that was familiar of Laphisto in hopes of investigating some rumors. His force presence was suppressed using art of the small and he acted like a typical maintenance worker just running basic routines. Now where could he be? Perhaps the bridge?

 

[Laphisto]

The Tracyn was alive with motion and noise. The steady beat of boots rolled through the corridors like distant thunder, accompanied by the rhythmic hiss of hydraulics and the low hum of the ship's heart. Recruits marched in tight formation, their armor immaculate, rifles locked across their chests.

Maintenance crews pressed against the walls to make room,giving a silent salute as the Drill sargant marched past them. Then came the voice. It cut through the noise like a vibroblade through steel sharp, commanding, impossible to ignore."Eyes front, recruits! You're not sightseeing you're soldiers in the making!"

The sound carried, bouncing off the walls. Even the hum of the reactors seemed to quiet for it. Leading the column was a man whose very stride carried authority. His armor bore the marks of years and battles, black plates scuffed with age, crimson trim dull beneath the lights. He didn't just march he owned the deck beneath his feet. "One hundred and forty-four of you, and I still hear hesitation in your steps! You think hesitation wins wars? You think mercy keeps you breathing? Wrong. Discipline does! Now move!"

The recruits obeyed, steps slamming in perfect rhythm. The corridor shook with it. Every face behind the helmets was stone. Every motion deliberate. Then a pause. The man's head turned slightly. His stride slowed. Ahead, someone moved differently. A maintenance worker. Alone. Unarmed. The drill sergeant's boots stopped. The echo of them vanished into silence. Without a word, he lifted a hand, and the column behind him froze as one.

The ship itself seemed to hold its breath. He stood there for a long moment, watching the worker. Not a sound came from the recruits. Only the faint hum of deck plating and the soft creak of armor shifting. The sergeant took a single step forward, the metallic thud echoing down the hall. Then another. Each one deliberate. Each one heavier than it needed to be.

He stopped a pace away from the worker, his presence filling the air like a storm front. he stood infront of braze with a scowl before shouting at him "Where's your sidearm, crewman!?"

Braze