He followed, the sound of his softer boots masked by the Admiral's as he matched his stride. He was mentally keeping track of the route they took as they went. Ships were always easier to navigate than surface cities for him: they were so much closer to the enclosed world of Csillan architecture, despite the alien logic of their design. Along the way, he tried to listen for distant footsteps, and get a sense of where intersections might lead to.

The medbay was mercifully free of Humans as well, leaving only the lanky Imperial medical droids. He didn't relish the idea of foreign models getting near him with hypodermics, but he would have to trust the Admiral.

"Thank you, sir," he replied. "Once I'm patched up and back in a proper uniform, I'll be happy to provide a full debriefing." The armored fabric of his coat had served him well, but sadly he'd have to discard it, at least for now. And if he were to be playing the part of an Imperial, he'd need at least some form of identification. All his aliases that had worked on-planet wouldn't have the security clearance to match an ISB agent, or whichever branch he'd pretend to be a part of now.