Triple nines boots hit dirt first, and it was dirt. Though it stood to reason, why waste a perfectly good prefabricated base on the outskirts of a slum? He would hazard a guess that some of the equipment was almost as old as he was. The slums themselves older than he looked. He nodded to first squad as they broke off on their route, scanning the rooftops on the narrow streets. He could feel his boots occasionally getting stuck in some of the filth, that despite the warm climate of the planet still managed to make a nice squelching sound. This no doubt wasn't on whatever pamphlet the greenhorn had read before joining. At least he was a farm boy, so that at least meant that he wouldn't be worrying himself over some stained armour. 

He looked at the Twi'leks as they past, some of them pulling back into their homes. All of them looking malnourished, tired. It was the same during the Clone Wars. He sighed and shook his head, this was the problem with politics. No doubt whoever was in charge of this planet was some credit grabbing idiot, living the high life. Things were supposed to [i]improve[/i] after the Clone Wars. The sooner the Emperor could throw off the old chains of the Republic the better. If the Emperor were to handpick squads, that would remove all possibility off corruption.

Triple nine looked back at the squad, barely worth splitting them to cover one side of the street each with the size of it. He clicked his mic on. "Keep an eye out Rookies, there's lots of little hidey holes. If I get shot in the back from one of your sectors my boot [i]will[/i] be going where the sun don't shine." He turned as he saw a curtain move a couple of floors away, a kid peering through. Probably one of the few times he had seen a full outfit. "That said, remember what the Sarge said. Trigger discipline. Unless you know for sure it's a blaster being pointed at us, don't shoot. Last thing we need is to turn this slum into a warzone."