Private Beyond the Blackwall

[Vara Rasha]

Location: Seswenna | Nondescript Iron Covenant Safehouse
Tags: Fenn Stag | Yael Kandar
​

Intermezzo​

Nightwatch.

Metal softly creaked as the Foundling shifted at her chair in a futile attempt at finding some comfort for her back. Her arms crossed over the breastplate of her beskar’gam, she watched the rows of monitors in front of her. The air in every corner of the safehouse smelled stale and moldy. The old coat of vomit-green paint on the walls had long begun to pine down, revealing the concrete underneath the rot and decay of its faces. The droning above her proved torturous after a few hours. The damned fluorescent light buzzed its single note tune without pause.

Depressing.

A heavy sigh poured from her snout. She went to prop up her feet atop the table before her and draped one ankle over the other, careful not to knock over the screens. The sharpness of her crimson eyes continued to dull under the lack of sleep. She stared on at the real-time recordings regardless, perhaps for the thousandth time.

...Just had to draw the short stick, didn’t I?

The streets had emptied hours ago. The only movement there ever was came in the form of the occasional landspeeder passing by.

Once is a happenstance, twice is a coincidence, thrice is a pattern.

Yael Kandar 's words of wisdom to her rang sharp in her mind. The woman reached for her datapad, and added another entry to her notes as another landspeeder passed by. Time and date of sighting, model, color, defining features like dents and scratches…

Every detail mattered.

They could not be made.

Bored out of her mind, the young Foundling checked the rest of her tally after jotting down every detail she got. Wearily she blinked, setting aside her datapad on the table. Nothing. Just some random speeder with no relation to the other hundreds of sightings she had caught on footage and noted down.

A small tired groan escaped Vara’s lips as she leaned back in the chair until it settled on two legs, the fine balance point met with sense alone, as her ankles remained draped over the other, her feet on the table. She never would have thought how tedious this recon mission was destined to become. And they were in enemy territory, no less! A world of the Sith, known for its industrial might and shipyards. Seswenna.

And what a BORING planet it proved to be.

She had tried everything to keep her mind busy.

Sketching and doodling on her datapad when extended periods of inactivity set in on the screens, reload drills with her blaster pistol, staring at the walls and the ceiling to watch the paint peel away in real time, counting the dirty tiles on the ground over and over again. It was maddening.

At least, she had only an hour left. One more hour, and she would be relieved from her post by another brother, Fenn Stag .

Another small sigh poured from her lips, as Vara impatiently swayed back and forth at her chair. At that moment, her heart desired nothing more than something to break this monotony.

Anything.

 

[Fenn Stag]

​

Details did infact, matter.

Like paying attention when someone snuck up behind you.

He was early for his guard shift- he always was. A small courtesy, or perhaps better and more accurately, a lack of sleep and inability to maintain it. He reached over her, picking up the datapad. He noted the lack of activity. But some, enough to cause at least a blurb written about it. He took a deep breath, setting it back down.

"It all matters. Don't worry."

He sat down next to her, eyeing the many screens of their reconnaissance apparatus.

"Especially beyond the Blackwall the Sith have created. Interesting, but ultimately, not impenetrable."

 

[Yael Kandar]

BEYOND THE BLACKWALL

A Brave New World - Chapter 1

EQUIPMENT: In Bio
OBJECTIVE: Collect as much information as possible
TAG: Fenn Stag | Vara Rasha

DESPERADO​

SESWENNA

The stale air of the safehouse was a far cry from the biting winds of Kestri, but Yael had spent enough time in the galaxy's gutters to know that boredom was a luxury.

She stood by a narrow slit in the concrete wall, her back to the flickering monitors and the buzzing fluorescent hum that seemed to be grinding Vara's patience into dust. Yael didn't need the screens to tell her the streets were empty; she was listening to the heartbeat of the industrial district, the rhythmic thud of the distant foundries, and the hiss of cooling vents.

Yael turned her head slightly as the chair legs clattered against the floor, catching the tail end of Vara's restless groan and Fenn's quiet, timely arrival. She watched the two for a silent beat. Vara was raw, full of the fire that came with being a new Mandalorian but lacking the cold, stone-deep patience required for the long wait. And Fenn... Fenn was early again. His focus was sharp, perhaps too sharp, like a blade that had been whetted until the edge was brittle.

<Punctuality is a virtue, Stag, but sleep is a resource,> Yael remarked, her voice a low rasp that barely carried over the buzz of the lights. She didn't look at him directly, giving him the space he clearly needed to ground himself.

She moved away from the wall, her boots silent on the peeling tiles. She stepped up behind the table, her shadow falling across the screens Vara had been staring at for hours.

<Stop counting the paint chips and look at the tertiary feed,> Yael commanded with a stern voice. She is technically the most high-ranked out of the three. Leadership has never been her forte, not within the last three years, but it’s not like she has the choice. <Bottom left. The ventilation stacks on the Fourth Foundry.>

Yael leaned over, her finger pointing to a faint, rhythmic pulse of orange light reflecting off the smog on the horizon, miles past the boring speeders the foundling had been logging.

<They think they're subtle. They've cut the external lights for the curfew, but the heat signature on the tether-line just spiked. They aren't just shipping crates; they're pre-heating the orbital foundries for a heavy run. Something big is being moved up to the shipyards.>

She stood up straight, her gaze shifting between the restless energy of the foundling and the intense, quiet vigilance of the man beside her.

<Stag, if they're prepping the tether, the patrol patterns are going to shift in thirty minutes. They'll clear the sector for the transport.>

Yael looked back toward the narrow slit in the wall, her eyes narrowing. The boredom was over. The horizon was finally starting to bleed the color of a coming strike.

<Stay on the sensors. I want to know the exact second that the tether starts to hum. We need to know exactly where they're hiding the prize.>​

 

[Vara Rasha]

Location: Seswenna | Nondescript Iron Covenant Safehouse
Tags: Fenn Stag | Yael Kandar
​

Intermezzo​

The Foundling’s silent prayers found an answer.

A carefully silent step of the boot. Behind her.

Her ears perked up. The mutt caught the sound and stilled. The sensitive snout worked back and forth a heartbeat after, sampling the air. The familiar scent fresh on her nostrils, the young foundling loosened as she looked to him from over her shoulder.

Fenn.​

“Y’still got an hour, y’know.” Another lean, this time forwards. Masterful in her balance, the woman tipped the chair forward, settling it back on all four legs. Her heels slipped off the table’s edge, boots softly thudding and scraping to the floor.

Fenn’s response to her remark came with the lack thereof. The sting of duty-induced insomnia clung to her crimson gaze as the mutt rubbed her eyes, forcing away the allure of slumber. A barely stifled yawn threatened to slip free from her maw as Fenn went to inspect the surveillance reports. Vara idly crossed her arms over the breastplate, watching him with dreamy eyes.

"It all matters. Don't worry."

He sat down next to her, eyeing the many screens of their reconnaissance apparatus.

"Especially beyond the Blackwall the Sith have created. Interesting, but ultimately, not impenetrable."

“It better matter,” A chuckle rolled from her throat, small and bitter. She leaned forward, hands clasped between her thighs, and continued. “I want the last twelve hours of my life back. Could’ve spent it drunk, high, or both.” Vara quipped. The focus of her eyes dulled as his words turned over and over in her mind.

The Blackwall…

That had been a hassle to deal with. Weeks of planning. Contingencies. Drills. But as Fenn just remarked, there was no impenetrable fortress, no matter how barred and guarded it was.

<Punctuality is a virtue, Stag, but sleep is a resource,> Yael remarked, her voice a low rasp that barely carried over the buzz of the lights.

Vara’s ears flicked, the sharpness of her focus returned to her eyes as another noise threaded its way to her awareness. Her back straightened, she turned to look over her shoulder to meet the gaze behind the T vision slit of her visor. Unseen yet palpably sharp.

<Stop counting the paint chips and look at the tertiary feed,> Yael commanded with a stern voice.

<Bottom left. The ventilation stacks on the Fourth Foundry.>

Vara’s acknowledgement to the sternly voiced order came with a healthy dose of sarcasm. ”Yes ma’am,” She was yet to fully figure out Yael, but one thing she knew for sure was she had to keep her quips on the down low. Her gut warned she just wasn't the type to bullchit with.

<They think they're subtle. They've cut the external lights for the curfew, but the heat signature on the tether-line just spiked. They aren't just shipping crates; they're pre-heating the orbital foundries for a heavy run. Something big is being moved up to the shipyards.>

Vara’s eyes snapped to the particular monitor she had pointed out. The chair under her creaked as she leaned closer to see the minute detail. Before long, she spotted it too. A faint throb of orange past the ventilation stacks. It mirrored off the breath denying heavy smoke in the air. ”Damn, sis. Good eye,” The heartfelt compliment came with a rising excitement in her core.

They were presented with a target of opportunity.

<Stag, if they're prepping the tether, the patrol patterns are going to shift in thirty minutes. They'll clear the sector for the transport.>

<Stay on the sensors. I want to know the exact second that the tether starts to hum. We need to know exactly where they're hiding the prize.>

Yael’s command drew an acknowledging growl from the mutt. At the edge of her seat, Vara tracked every flicker on the screen, every twitch of their sensor readouts. The promise of action on the horizon had snapped her awake. Her energy replenished, the concepts of fatigue and sleep were struck clean from her mind like they never existed.

The waiting began yet again.

And this time, the girl proved more impatient than before.

A claw scraped against the other. Deliberate and rhythmic. A sharp shink accompanied each stroke, careful and incisive as Vara honed her claws. Eyes unwavering from the screen for even a moment. She felt her core tighten in anticipation for a fight.

And soon enough…

”Yael,” The Foundling’s voice came direct and firm. ”We’ve got movement,” Sensing the Mandalorian’s shadow cast upon her once more in a mere moment, the woman wasted no time in showing her. ”Right there,” She shot forth a digit, guiding Kandar’s gaze on the screen, drawn away to allow clear sight after dragging her attention there. The tethers of the great cranes moved at the dock, as a large freighter came around for an approach.

This had to be it.

”...We doin’ this?”​

 

[Fenn Stag]

​

"I've slept enough." Fenn replied quickly, and rather curtly. Fenn leaned in silently to the collection of screens, brown eyes- scanning each and every direction, watching what they were seeing. It was all rather technical- but Fenn had an eye for people, and so apparently, did their foundling.

A single hand clapped the foundling on the shoulder. "Good work." He stood tall, walking to a corner of the room, picking up his helmet. He slipped it over his head, locking his magnetic seals into place.

"We may not get another opportunity soon, or at all."

Fenn's rifle was already in his hand. Verpine. Magazine-fed. The stealthy approach. The killer's approach. He was Ori'ramikade through and through- no frills, no bells and whistles. Just the utter brutality of what needed to be done.

 

[Yael Kandar]

BEYOND THE BLACKWALL

A Brave New World - Chapter 1

EQUIPMENT: In Bio
OBJECTIVE: Put the tracker in the cargo
TAG: Fenn Stag | Vara Rasha

DESPERADO​

SESWENNA

Yael didn't answer Vara with words. Her HUD flared to life, shifting from the passive surveillance feed to a high-contrast tactical overlay. Through her T-visor, she watched the orange energy signatures of the foundry spike as the freighter's docking arm engaged.

<Stag, keep that Verpine ready. If the patrols deviate, I need you to create a ghost in their sensors,> Yael's voice came through the private comms, tight and professional. She tapped a magnetic disc at her belt, a specialized, long-range tracker that would allow them to follow the cargo even into hyperspace.

She turned her visor toward Vara, noting the foundling's twitching claws and the visible heat of her anticipation.

<We move in the shadows of the mag-rail. If we're spotted before that tracker is set, the mission is dead. We aren't here for a body count.>

Yael kicked the manual release on the side hatch, and the stale, moldy air of the safehouse was instantly scoured away by the acrid, sulfurous stench of Seswenna's industrial district.

High above, the massive tether cable groaned, a sound like a dying god, as it began to pull the freighter's docking arm upward.

<Move,> Yael commanded, dropping into a low, tactical sprint toward the shadow of the nearest coolant pipe. The freighter loomed ahead, a jagged silhouette of obsidian-black metal held in the glowing embrace of the docking cradle. Every few seconds, a massive electromagnetic pulse rippled through the tether, momentarily lighting up the area like a strobe light. <Stay low, stay silent, and for the love of the Forge, don't stop until we're under that landing strut.>​

 

[Vara Rasha]

Location: Seswenna | Nondescript Iron Covenant Safehouse > Industrial District Docks
Objective: Don't Kark Up
Tags: Fenn Stag | Yael Kandar
​

Comprehend​

"Good work."

She answered with a curt nod, flashing him a grin. The young one reached for her own kit as Fenn went to collect his helmet. Her hand reached for her buy’ce at the table before her. Her hand found the rim, and lowered the helmet onto her head with practiced ease. A sealing hiss sounded as the locks engaged.

"We may not get another opportunity soon, or at all."

The Harpy's agreement came in the form of an acknowledging growl.

<Stag, keep that Verpine ready. If the patrols deviate, I need you to create a ghost in their sensors,>

Her black mane bristled high. Her blood sang for what awaited them on the horizon.

Her Paranaor blaster rifle rattled softly in her hands as she threw the sling over her shoulder. She kept her kit light. Her weapon attachments lighter still; a low powered variable optic and a threaded muzzle device. She dipped a hand into a pouch and fished for the can as Yael turned to face her. Metal whispered against metal, before settling with a quiet thud. The attachment firmly sat in place.

<We move in the shadows of the mag-rail. If we're spotted before that tracker is set, the mission is dead. We aren't here for a body count.>

The Harpy nodded, looking at the woman’s T-visor as if her eyes could see the woman’s piercing gaze underneath. <”Not here for a bodycount,”> Not a hint of sarcasm nor bravado in her tone. She nodded once, locs shifting before they settled on her shoulders once more.

Weeks of infiltration would not be undone just for the thrill of it.

She moved right behind Yael, as she reached for the side hatch. Acrid, chemical laced air rushed in as soon as the locks disengaged. Movement caught her eyes in the distance, coming from the dock. Large cranes moved into position, as the freighter began its descent, soon disappearing from Vara’s line of sight.

<Move,>

She didn’t have to tell her twice.

Quick on her feet, the Foundling reduced her posture just the same as Yael. Her quiet footfalls came a few steps behind the seasoned assassin. The massive coolant pipe, held aloft firmly by strong durasteel beams, offered them much appreciated concealment under its shadow. The perimeter fence ahead of them grew with each step.

<Stay low, stay silent, and for the love of the Forge, don't stop until we're under that landing strut.>​

Azure pulses from the tether cast tall shadows across the terrain before them. Their concealment still held.

The Harpy picked up the pace and shot out a hand at Yael. A minute detail had caught her eye. She tapped her shoulder and signalled towards the nearest strut. Vara’s pivot towards it came swiftly in the same breath. An annoyed hiss left her lips. <”Security cams,”> The fact forced their swift approach to an unwilling pause. Her backplate pressed against the beam, her posture shrunk to a crouch. Vara’s visor edged around the beam and looked to a tall post, mounted with several cameras sweeping slow, fixed arcs. A road stretched from left to right, between them and the tall perimeter fence. <”How’re we gettin’ across that?”> Her words came quickly in between breaths, her vigilant gaze swept past the defenses, making out the distant silhouettes appearing and disappearing behind crates and containers.