[center][url=https://fontmeme.com/star-wars-republic-commando-font/][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181022/c8d9f87d9f9582bf832df800f7a5e0bd.png[/img][/url][/center] The first person Callus had made a point to befriend was the Quartermaster when he was assigned to [i]The Tempest.[/i] It wasn't to get free handouts or specialized equipment, but instead to gain access to the tools required to keep himself busy. It would be no surprise, then, that SN-7739 was found at the work-bench in the armory, repairing a broken E-11. The firing mechanism had become jammed in combat, and led to the death of the individual who was responsible for it. The weapon and armor had been recovered by a clean-up crew to ensure scavengers didn't get a hold of it. But here Callus was, his helmet off as he carefully inspected the deconstructed blaster. A smile spread across his lips as he noticed the issue, using a set of forceps to gently pull one of the delicate pins holding the trigger together back. Orson lifted up the base grip and trigger of the blaster, pulling back the trigger with ease as it felt good as new. It took less than a minute to fix the blaster back together, and only a minute longer to place the blaster back into its rightful position in the armory and make his way to the Quartermaster's datapad to update his logs. Before leaving the armory, SN-7739 placed his helmet on as he slipped out of the armory and began making his way back to the barracks. That is, until he heard the familiar voice of his squad leader buzz in through his comms. He gave a nod of his head at the orders, and found his way to his own personal locker to fetch his weapons. It felt incredibly routine, just another basic set of procedures and protocol the Empire loved. But there was a cathartic nature to everything as he made his way into the hangar. His appearance was clearly one of an engineer, the plasma cutter strapped to his back and tools hanging from his belt signifying his role as he reached the shuttle. Despite how standard things seemed so far, there was something nagging at the back of Orson's mind. To some small extent, he knew what it was. He just didn't want to admit it. [color=39b54a][i]This planet feels too much like home.[/i][/color]