The week of "leave time" after that debacle on Sigma Iridani was finally over.  The orders had come in just that morning, enough time for Brian to pack up his gear into a nice compact bundle that stowed in pockets of his armor suit.  Electronic lockpicks, scanning devices, some small tools, and related objects that would get someone not in his line of work arrested on suspicious of criminal intent.  And that was even before his small arsenal.<br/><br/>He strode into the hanger a sidearm on each thigh and under both armpits, a combat knife on his chest, the hilt of another sticking up near his right hip, a rifle slung over his shoulder and the hilt of a forcesword dangling from his belt.  His armor was set to matte black, a good neutral-ist tone for dealing with a new C.O.  Least, from what he'd heard, this one would be better than the last company man.  Faulty intel had been the reason he'd been forced to take out half the target's garrison and blow a good chunk of the complex on what was supposed to be a simple bit of wetwork with some recon for the future thrown in.  Bastard owed him for a week in the infirmary.<br/><br/>Anyway.<br/><br/>He glided across the hanger toward the ship and accurately picked out the new C.O.  Brian did some research whenever he got bounced to a new unit.  "Brian.  I hear I'm your recon guy."