"An officer. Thank the spirits. You, situation report, now."

Black, hooded robes, imperious bearing, the cultured tones of a Dromund Kaas coming from the big man's scarred mouth - they all say Sith just as plainly as the curved hilt at his waist. Lord Kallig has worked hard to internalize the privileges that are now his due - the moreso because he grew up without them. And his relief at spotting a Chiss in uniform is - substantial. He might not know where in Wild Space he might have ended up, but with any luck, someone does.