Jazz listened to his captain, showing her the respect she deserved. After all, if he didn't respect his CO, how could he respect himself? He skimmed through the datapad; it didn't seem like they had any knowledge of inhabitants. However, it was procedure to prepare for the worst.

Jazz stood, wiping his mouth with his human arm, and cracking his back. "I'll be in the armory, doing maintenance. Anyone who thinks they need to practice using a firearm, you know where to find me." On that note, Jazz picked up his tray and returned it to the proper receptacle. He left the mess hall, lighting up another cigarette as he did. As much as he loved being around the guns, it meant he wouldn't be able to smoke for a while; not while cleaning and calibrating a firearm.

Hopefully, some of the crew would realize that it wouldn't be a bad idea to come get some lessons. Some of them were sloppy shots.

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Once upon a time, there was a man called Jazzturbation, and he posted upon a forum... and then left when life became hectic and left him behind. Months later, he returned to that same forum... but had forgotten his password, and so created a new identity to use as his own.

I am that man.