[i]"Remember, this isn't Felucia."[/i] Norman muttered this under his breath to himself as he finished packing his bandolier with extra ammo for his non-standard rifle. That was the downside he supposed to keeping the DLT-20. He couldn't simply pick up the dead rookie's ammo. Well not that any had died in awhile. On Felucia things were... different to here. The natives actually had the sense to surrender and the rookie's lasted longer than a day. He exhaled sharply at the idea of how different this outfit was. No constant stream of troops, non-fluid squad setups, and most of all food. He stopped for a second before putting his bandolier around himself. He remembered the taste and the texture of that fungus they were forced to eat. It made him gag and he continued with resting the top of the bandolier on his free shoulder and placing the bottom at his other hip. The transport shook which sent Norman's hand out infront of him to steady himself. 

He grabbed the blaster rifle firmly and felt magnatomic adhesion grip return to his hand. He sometimes wondered who the detached hand was of that he pulled the rifle from. Maybe it was an officer, a marksmen, or even a clone. Raising himself from the ground with his free hand he brought it to the mag release and checked it twice just to make sure the cartridge would drop if he found himself in a suppressing situation. That happened quite a bit when the B1 groups showed up. Most of them would just march straight into their field of fire, he would often lose count of how many shots they put down range when they showed up. After quickly checking the sight he raised his hand up above him and grabbed the hand holds coming down from the ceiling. It only took him a moment to realize that he had forgot something. The new helmet they had given him when he joined the squad. His old one had the visor smashed out and a deep scar in it, nerf herding natives using primitive weapons. 

He crouched back down and with his free hand grabbed the helmet by the chin and brought it down over his head. He made sure to not touch the mic with his chin as he brought it down. He set it on then lightly hit the top of the helmet with his closed fist to make sure it formed a proper seal. This place wasn't Felucia hot but it was still hellish. After standing back up again he regripped the hand holds dangling from the ceiling and noticed the clone changing the days without incident number.

"You should change that to days without dead greenies. Better metric." Norman said over the comms. After he undepressed the comm button and then chuckled slightly to himself in his helmet.