Starin' Down tha Barrel
Part of the new outreach program was the application of training all individuals within the Mandalorian Empire in specific ways of combat. Apparently I had been handed a number of names in which I would be the "mentor" of. Spending years fighting in battles, and now being here to train? Not so bad honestly. Sit back, yell at new recruits with a knife hand, and get up all in their business about how horrid their fighting was. What's not to love? However, the one part I was not expecting was the next individual I would be given the chance to scold, was a trooper? All that was really written about their name or designation was CT-312. Which was some kind of soldier designation. Based heavily off of the old Clone Wars, and even Galactic Empire days. However, those were TK last I remember. Either way, I didn't care much. I was here to train others.
Moving out into the yard, I didn't look for the person's face. I didn't dare search the entire thing. I just moved over to the innercom and spoke into it. Projecting my voice along the whole training yard for anyone who was going to be picked up today.
"CT-312, YOU ARE BEING REQUESTED FOR YOUR SCHEDULED TRAINING!"
I guess this is the good part about being a retired Alor. I got to take it easy and play with the whelps.
CT-312
Moving out into the yard, I didn't look for the person's face. I didn't dare search the entire thing. I just moved over to the innercom and spoke into it. Projecting my voice along the whole training yard for anyone who was going to be picked up today.
"CT-312, YOU ARE BEING REQUESTED FOR YOUR SCHEDULED TRAINING!"
I guess this is the good part about being a retired Alor. I got to take it easy and play with the whelps.
CT-312