Sabatine's gait was slightly awkward, for the first time in well over a year she had her gladius slung over her shoulder, snubbed up tight so it wouldn't stop her operating a bird. The powerful plasma rifle was the standard issue for the Legion. It was reliable, powerful, and used a standard rechargable power cell. Like most Legionaires she had customized it heavily. The fore stock was folded and wrapped with tape to accomadate her firing style. The left hand plasma baffel had been partially stripped so that the discharge vented backwards and away from the user at a slight angle. It gave the weapon a tendency to singe her arm if it wasn't protected by a flight suit, it was a small price to pay to minimize the torque it imported when she fired it in zero G. Carrying the weapon again felt odd, both strange and familiar all at once. She didn't expect to need it, but she was carrying it now because by Minerva she really wished she had been carrying it earlier.

"A couple of Gorm's bully boys came around earlier," she told Tiber bluntly, spinning a chair so she could rest her crossed arms on top of it.

"Wanted to extort a gift from me they said," she continued in a studdied neutral tone. Settled Legionaires were exempt from all local taxes by Imperial degree. This made it much harder for local elites to subvert large numbers of soliders, as they were tough to put into debt and felt a natural sense of superiority to their neighbours. 

"You have anything to drink?" she asked, suddenly feeling foolish for bringing a gun rather than a bottle of cider.