Mission The Dagger Unsheathed || COV Reconnaissance of TSC Held Humbarine

[Vara Rasha]

CHAPTER III​

The fire rises.

And the legends answer.

The raid on Seswenna marked a beginning. The wrath of the Mythos Fleet escalates, and with it, retribution takes form. Answers would be taken in blood for sins and slights left too long to fester. Blades remained sharp. Their hatred, unquenched, found new direction before long.

Humbarine.

A city-world host to shipyards of the same breed as Kuat’s, situated at the mouth of the Trellen Trade Route. Vital, and exposed as it hung at the tip of the Arrowhead, bordered just at the edge of High Republic space.

And now it was marked. Its value has been noted. Its fate, decided.

The Armada sets its course as a vanguard assembles. Scouts and infiltrators, the silent blade ahead of the strike. The covert heralds of the planet’s fate, their task was not an easy one.

The Sith wore the face of another – The Galactic Empire. Stormtroopers clad in their bone-white armor, ruled the streets. But no matter the obstacles ahead, all must be unveiled; planetary garrisons and strongholds, listening posts, deep-space arrays, munitions and supply depots, temples and sites of worship of the Sith – all must be revealed and marked before the Mythos Fleet’s arrival.

And then, when the time came, the blade would fall clean.

For Duels​

Iron Covenant Goal: Reconnaissance of Humbarine’s Defenses.

A city-planet within the fringes of The Sith Covenant’s borders, a high concentration of planetary defenses are present against threats that seek to strike deep. To retain the element of surprise for an upcoming large-scale raid, the Mandalorians of the Iron Covenant must maintain a level of covertness throughout their reconnaissance operations on the planet.

Sith Order Goal: Foil the Recce.

The presence of the Mandalorians on the surface of Humbarine does not go unnoticed for long. The Sith Covenant must suss out and eliminate these scouts and saboteurs with extreme prejudice before they can achieve their objectives.
​

 

[Nodak]

Tag: Signy Bralor
Equipment: Nevermourne | Blackstar Armor | Lightsaber​

Pathways opened wherever the Iron Breaker trod. He was an immense beast, larger and thicker than any human could have realistically been and intimidating to look upon. Even on the crowded streets of a city planet a sea of bodies would part whenever he moved through it.

Unlike other Sith he did not sequester or hide himself away in veiled temples or in towers reaching towards the stars.

There was something that contented him about being 'boots on the ground'. He enjoyed the fear in the eyes of those around him as his massive bulk strode forward. It appealed to him, prickling the outer layer of his psyche.

The Blackstar Armor covered him with its thick quadranium plating, metal so heavy that only the largest and strongest creatures could wear it even when fashioned as such. It added to the intimidation of his appearance. The Rotary Cannon over his left shoulder was angled downwards, powered down at the moment yet no less visible. Nevermourne was clipped to the right side of a belt integrated into his armor, massive and bulky and nothing less than a two handed weapon for a lesser creature and somewhere on his person he had a lightsaber too. Nodak went without a helm at the moment, it too could be found clipped near his waist.

He stopped in the midst of an avenue, people and street vendors on either side of him. Eyes narrowed, he met the gaze of a vendor who shrunk back instinctively...

"....."

...Nodak was not accustomed to speaking, especially to worms like the Near-Human he was looking at now. He merely stared. Eventually he reached for something that looked like a womprat that the vendor had hanging from his stall, curing in the air and ripped it free of the tether that held it aloft with a massive hand.

When Nodak turned away he was already biting down on the carcass. What might have fed several was bitten in half amidst the gnashing and grinding of teeth.

As the Monster strode away, further down the avenue the walls of garrisons could be seen in the distance. Planetary Defense Cannons rose from the surface of the city planet like cankers that pitted its surface. If something did not catch his attention soon Nodak might have to take sport in crushing soem of the locals.

​

 

[Darion of Myrkr]

Capital City, Humbarine

Darion of Myrkr longed for the fight that was to come.

Each day here dragged and tried him and the weeks he had been here felt like years and his patience burned down quick like how the flame does on a lit, short fuse.

Golz had told him there were many kinds of war yet to learn. The words stayed with him, the same as those his father had spoken long ago. War was not only the clash of blades. It had layers, and each one carried its own lesson and virtue.

This one was patience.

Darion had told him patience was a virtue he did not need. He knew even then it was not true. But he was young, and youth will push against what stands before it. Not always for reason, but for pride, and for the small spite that lives in young men. Like a rooster in a cage, crowing as if it ruled. Hear, hear, here I am thy king. Crowing loud, though it stood behind the wire.

He sat crouched behind the concrete railing of a skyscraper's roof, monitoring the maglev rail that sprawled through the city. His rangefinder had zoomed all the way in and tracked the movement of a particular train carrying military equipment and he dotted down all he saw and all he learned on the datapad that now sat on his bent knee. All the while rain poured down from the grey skies and the orange hue of pollution hung underneath them like a dirty rag let to wash.

It had been raining since the day he'd come on this world and provided his bounty hunting license as permit to stay. And it was his father's old lessons on bounty hunting, and his even fewer past experiences as one that ordered his conduct on this recon mission. He'd gathered all information on the trains, their schedules, their tonnage, their make and models and the rails from what public sources he had access to.

The rest he'd learned on the field. He'd pinpointed logistic hubs and supply depots to which military carriages traversed to and their cargo and their frequency and schedule. But most importantly he had found several weakpoints – such as bridges – which would make key targets to sabotage and cut supplies to an eventual frontline that would form upon the Mandalorians' potential attack on the world. One such bridge was not too far from his position.

In the last few days, Darion of Myrkr had noticed the frequency of military hardware hauled on the maglev rail had drastically increased and he wondered if it was only natural given the world's proximity to the Jetii or perhaps the Sith's rats (intelligence operatives) had sniffed out the impending doom that hung over their world.

Or perhaps it was treachery, he though and gruntedt. The dar'jetii were a perfidious enemy. They made allies of rats. They ruled as rats. It was only natural.

And as proud and honorable as we claim to be, we have never lacked rats among our own. History will tell you this and the Sith knew this best of all.

He had the urge to spit but his helmet was in the way.

The rain kept on pattering his armor like tiny marbles in a cast iron pot.

He was hungry now, too.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Siv Dragr]

G U N S L I N G E R
Humbarine
​

Allies: Mandalorians
Enemies: Arris Windrun | Sith

The Sith wore imperialism like Siv wore his beskar'gam. The Core Worlds were no longer the shining standard of stability that they had been. Warlords, then imperialism, had carved up the galaxy's center. Now, according to Iron Covenant intelligence, a Sith cult had secretly subverted the Core's Imperial government.

No Sith, No Exception was the oft-repeated cry of all Mando'ade in the Iron Covenant, all loyal to the memory of Mandalore and the genocide the Sith had carried out against their people. Siv, particularly, could never let his own hate go. It was thanks to the Sith that his Clan had been rendered all but extinct. The Iron Covenant's crusade to eradicate the Sith from the galaxy had reignited a fire within him that had been long dormant.

Already, the Iron Covenant had struck on Seswenna against the Sith Order. But the arcane Blackwall complicated their fleet movements, making strikes costly. The Sith Order's time was marked, but the Iron Covenant, too, had set its sights on the Sith that infested the core. All Sith must be eradicated from the galaxy. Only then would their vengeance be sated.

Siv had volunteered himself to the strike team dedicated to carrying out reconnaissance of the shipbuilding world of Humbarine, industrially important, politically irrelevant -- not that politics mattered to the Mandalorians. But next to so many institutionally important worlds like Fondor, it was not an obvious target. It was for such a reason that the Mythos Fleet had marked the world for its strike. But the Mandalorians' intelligence on the world was pitiful, and that had to be remedied so that the Mythos Fleet's attack would be swift and decisive.

Most of the Mandalorians had divvied up their sectors upon arrival on the planet. Siv had been assigned to map out a large naval installation. So far, things had been relatively quiet. It was easy to avoid the regular-scheduled patrols once he had gotten through the perimeter. He was on top of one of the depot's rooftops, a lower, unassuming building in the grand complex. He just needed to have a map of the base's anti-air defenses before he could move onto the next sector.

 

[Kamon Hourn]

---

​

LOCATION:HUMBARINE - ESPIONAGE
TAG:
ALLIES: The Iron Covenant
OPPS: Seris Velmora​

​

KAMON HOURN
THEME​

<“Dagger OP to Cresh-actual, do you read?>”

<“Cresh-actual to Dagger OP, that’s a good copy, over. We’re on the surface and moving to the objective.”> came the response. Cresh squad was a group of Ruus’vhetin Commandos, all stoically prepping their gear. They had all arrived on the planet nearly a week prior, all separately and under different backstopper cover identities. Through the services of a handful of trusted smugglers, their gear was spirited away into a small, abandoned warehouse within the industrial sector, which they used as a safehouse of sorts.

Intelligence was sparse from the outset, yet the team had spent the previous week doing preliminary fact-finding to determine that a state-run industrial concern operated in this sector; hauling starship components to the orbital shipyards for final staging and assembly. Their objective was two-fold, yet simple.

First, they were to secure a means of exfil for both themselves, and for the other Mandalorian operatives on the planet so they could rendezvous with the Prudii'kad Tactical Ship (dubbed ‘Zephyr’) currently cloaked and anchored in orbit - near enough to provide passive tactical overwatch and support, yet far enough away so as to mitigate the chances of a ship accidentally running into them while shrouded and hidden. Exfiltration was not imminent, yet now was the time to prepare for it as opposed to when the osik finally hit the fan.

Second, they were to rig improvised, yet controlled explosives throughout the supply depot so as to disrupt its supply chain upon the arrival of the Mythos Fleet. Ideally, they would be able to operate passively on Humbarine for a few more days while the other teams performed their recon missions, and spring their exfil right as the Fleet arrived; thus triggering the explosion of said devices. It was altogether likely the Ruus’vhetin squad would remain behind for further deployment, but that had yet to be made clear to them all.

Part of the reason they chose this warehouse was also due to the fact it possessed an access manhole into this sector’s sewer system- providing the team easy access to the subterranean network that connected all the buildings in the area. One by one they descended within and pulled up their tactical overlay, which synchronized with the Zephyr’s preliminary sensor sweeps of the area over the preceding days. Kamon’s boots splashed into the ankle-deep water, and his inlaid filters within his helmet thankfully protected his olfactory senses from the fumes and scents therein. In short order, the team entered the sewer and engaged their low-light vision modes before moving forward to the Industrial Concern factory campus; albeit through the ‘low road’.

Their objectives weren’t glamorous, yet altogether necessary to ensure the success of the operation as a whole.

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

“He seems to be just watching, Lord Mortifer. Has not moved much from his spot.”

The Nagai spy sat atop another building with a high powered long range scope, keeping eyes on the larger Mandalorian. The rain gently padded of his darkened armor as he spoke in his comms.

“Then he is studying.”

Like clock work he had noticed this stranger keeping eyes and tabs on the Maglevs that moved product on Humbarine.

I told you, boy. Something was off about him.

Ignati rumbled his voice within Varin's head as he stood atop another building watching from a distance, studying the man who believed he had gone unnoticed.

“Should I dispatch him sir?”

Varin did not answer for a moment, weighing the options.

“No…keep tabs on him. If he moves I want to know where. I will deal with him myself.”

Varin stepped away from the rain soaked rooftop he had been atop of for the past while.

Again, Mandalorians. First Seswenna, now Humbarine. And once again, not flying the same colors as the Mandalorian Empire.

The thought swam in his head as if trying to find angles as to why they were here now.

He leapt to the next building just below him, the weight and force of his body shaking the roof and ceiling below.

He began to make his way to the Mandalorian, stalking him like a predator stalks its prey.

“How about I ask this time?”

He spoke to himself within his helm. The rain that tapped his armor hissed from the heat that came from his body, almost like a moving cloud obscured from most views to look like another stray cloud from one of the buildings nearby.

Finally, his footfalls fell onto the same building as the spy ahead of him. There he waited for him to turn around.

Darion of Myrkr​

 

[Signy Bralor]

SIGNY BRALOR
HUMBARINE | DEEP COVER
TAG: Nodak
GEAR: Huginn and Muninn, ballistic-weave under civilian clothes
VISIBLY PRESENTING: Female

Signy had been in deeo cover on Humbarine for a while, she had been working with a local tribe under the guise of being a smugglers. Her background growing up with the people that Kjartan Hammer-Hand called vod made it easy for her to pass herself off as a rough round the edges smuggler type. And what had it cost her to earn their trust? A few cases of good quality assault rifles that the clan had stolen from someone else in the first place.

In exchange the girl had managed to be clued in on a few secret routes in and out of the Sith defences, perfect little rat runs for anyone siphoning off military tech of fuel, but also perfect infiltration routes for anyone who might have nefarious intent for those defenders. Now was time for her to enjoy her evening, she sat calmly smoking a cigarette on the balcony overlooking the terraced street with a young man who she had developed a bit of a friendship with.



Meanwhile to Nodak

The young girl, the daughter of one of the bandits was frightened, frightened of what the mandalorian would do if she discovered the betrayal, but just as frightened what would happen when she tried to speak to the sith and report her. Her curiosity had led her into this mess. When this young smuggler had arrived, Sylvia, she called herself, little Alys had been enamoured by this cool older stranger.

But then, she had gone to visit her in her apartment where she now resided and found it. A full suit of Mandalorian armour, mandalorian comm gear and cans of that awfuk drink that the bucket headed foreigners liked. And what's worse, her brother was sweet on her? She needed to protect her family, if she did this there would be violence, but there might be reward, or at least safety if it finally did come out that there was a mandalorian spy here.

"S....ss...sir... my name..." the armoured sith was more terrifying than she had expected. "Sir... my name is Alys. There is a mandalorian spy hiding in an apartment at the end of this street.

My brother is with her, I think he is her prisoner." she lied, but she couldnt exactly tell the sith they were friends.


​

 

[Gel Karn]

GEL KARN
HUMBARINE
TAG: Tamsin Starfall , OPEN
GEAR: Totally Normal Work Tunic, Totally Normal Work Boots, Totally Normal Work Gloves, Totally Normal Tool Kit

Nothing to see here, folks!​

The equipment that Gel Karn wore into battle wasn't a million miles away from the attire of a common laborer or someone doing manual work. In fact, his kit only required minimal alterations to make him look like a construction worker, and so he had gone to Humbarine to conduct reconnaissance for the mighty Iron Covenant!

To the casual observer, Gel simply looked like one of the planet's millions of construction workers, working on erecting Humbarine's latest and greatest skyscraper alongside his fellow employees. In reality, of course, Gel was undercover for the Iron Covenant, looking to gather intel and data on the planet itself: locations of important military facilities, estimates of military force sizes, and an understanding of the general population's view of their "Galactic Empire" masters. Gel was determined to find out if the planet was ripe for an uprising, or if the oppression of the Empire had permeated far enough into society that the planet's inhabitants might need a "push" from the Mandalorians to do so.

His main weapons, those being Akalenedat, his Bev Shield and his Mandalorian Lanvarok were currently hidden somewhere around the construction site where he was working, as Gel didn't want to break his cover by being visibly armed. Instead, he carried a Vibrodagger and a Shikkar underneath his Mandalorian Jazerant, along with a small number of Morturian Energy Disks, all completely out of sight and hidden on Gel's person. With luck, Gel wouldn't need his hidden weapons or to retrieve his stashed armaments, though one could never be sure if they were going to get into a fight or not. As prepared as Gel was, there was no telling if his cover would be blown, and even the slightest mishap might reveal his true identity.

For the moment, however, Gel continued his work on the construction site, performing menial tasks as he chatted up his colleagues that were working alongside with him. His shift was over in 20 minutes, after which he could get back to the all important task at hand...

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Reggie Rau Vara Rasha
Armor​

Without a helm, the rain pattered against his face, ticking through the lattice of ebony armor that claimed his lithe frame. Lysander didn't mind it so much. Sometimes, the wet air told him more than any readout could replicate. There was something clarifying about exposure, about letting the environment press in. The chill reached the space behind twin emeralds where focus lived, where everything sharpened. Breath narrowed into controlled inhales, small acts to recalibrate both mind and body.. preparing the self for something more useful.

Until recently, he'd been in contact with Varin, his brother in everything but blood, the person whose instincts he trusted without ever needing to verify anything. Apparently, radical anomalies and other signatures weren't quite adding up. That was when he begun folding his own signature, the way one might cup a flame against the wind.

The other Sith had gone quiet some minutes ago, which was to be expected. His plan was to approach from a divergent vector, more of a counter move in this little game of presence. No need for constant comms between those that'd once shared a dormitory cell on Korriban, and learned each other's silences. Always best to prioritize integrity over any petty rivalry; a distinction that separated them from other bands of those who studied the Dark.

What Lysander hadn't accounted for was them to be Mandalorians. They stained some distant part of his memory.. further back than he usually cared to go. He'd fought them back on Theed during the Plasma Wars. His final days under Republic banners, when he actually believed that might be something worth bleeding for. Before the Dark discovered the crack in him it was always going to find. That history didn't govern his thinking now.. he was too disciplined for that. But it surely flavored most inferences.

And now they were here, at the edge of the Core.. where things tended to end.

With another slow exhale through his nose, he slipped around the building's flank, then paused beneath a grated catwalk. Drawing new a maintenance door, a gloved hand pressed the panel. The lock gave with a soft hiss. Slipping inside, the corridors swallowed him. A few seconds were taken at the threshold for his gaze to adjust. Then he began scanning the surroundings.

 

[Nodak]

Tag: Signy Bralor

Equipment: Nevermourne | Blackstar Armor | Lightsaber​

It was unusual, most of the time they didn't attempt to speak with him. Nodak was more accustomed to their frightened glances and how they would part to give him a wide berth as he passed by. So when the girl approached him he was curious.

Initially he looked at her with a mixture of indifference. This girl, Alys, was no threat to him and her expression read as one that was appropriately cowed and intimidated. Normally he would have dismissed her but she had piqued his curiosity with mention of a Mandalorian.

Almost immediately Nodak's eyes narrowed and he raised the remainder of the creature he'd been eating to his mouth. Another large bite and nothing was left, the gnashing of teeth and crunching of bones would fill the silence between them. He wiped his mouth with the palm of a gauntleted hand and a guttural sound reached the ears of the girl...

"Show me."

...there were apartments everywhere, the streets and avenues were lined with them rising above the vendors and booths that crowded the sidelines.

There was the possibility that he might reward the girl if her information was correct. He could smell the fear on her indicating she wasn't lying to him. It would have been foolish for her to lie considering what would happen to her if she were.

He let the girl lead him to the end of the street, a large and lumbering figure trailing a short distance behind her.

Tilting his head back so that he could scan the exterior of the apartment block at the end of the street he'd need her to point out the Mandalorian she sought to report----or at least point out the exact apartment....

 

[Seris Velmora]

Tag: Kamon Hourn

Humbarine did not feel like a battlefield yet. That was the problem. Seris Velmora stood atop the durasteel lip of a maintenance gantry overlooking one of the industrial district’s broad freight corridors, dark hair stirring in the cold mechanical breath exhaled by the surrounding refinery stacks. Beneath her, cargo haulers crawled in ordered lanes. Factory sirens pulsed in disciplined intervals. Workers moved in streams. Security patrols passed at measured checkpoints.

Everything functioned. Everything still believed tomorrow was guaranteed. She hated that. Somewhere beyond the horizon fleets were aligning, commanders were preparing lines on maps, and worthier Sith than she had been dispatched to defend the world in earnest. Fortify this. Hold that. Repel invaders. Preserve assets. Preserve civilians. Preserve Humbarine.

Preserve. The word tasted rotten. She had not clawed her way into the transport leaving for this world to preserve anything. She had refused to be left behind because the mere thought of others finding the fight before she did had ignited something rabid in her chest. She wanted screams in enclosed spaces. She wanted panicked running. She wanted the intimacy of watching someone realize too late that they had picked the wrong corridor, the wrong door, the wrong opponent. Defense was only useful insofar as it guaranteed intruders to tear apart.

So while others no doubt attached themselves to command structures and rally points, Seris had done what instinct demanded. She hunted where vermin would enter. Industrial arteries. Utility tunnels. Transit conduits. Places where saboteurs, infiltrators, and bold little heroes convinced themselves they were unseen.

Her yellow eyes narrowed. There. Not by sight at first. By feeling. A disturbance below the city’s ordered rhythm, like grit caught in the teeth of a machine. Small. Disciplined. Multiple heartbeats moving with intention beneath layers of ferrocrete and pipework. Not civilians. Not local maintenance.

Not afraid enough. A slow grin spread across her mouth. Finally. She dropped from the gantry. The descent was less a jump than a deliberate surrender to gravity, boots striking a lower service platform with a clang that sent a pair of technicians yelping before scattering from her path. Seris did not even glance at them. One hand slipped to the hilt at her side, fingers curling there not because she needed the reassurance, but because anticipation demanded somewhere to go.

The nearest sewer access shaft sat behind a fenced utility annex marked with state insignia. She cut through the lock with one lazy stroke. Metal hissed apart. The hatch was dragged open. A wave of chemical rot and stagnant water breathed upward from the dark. Seris inhaled deeply.

"Mm." Perfect. She descended the ladder without hurry, boots splashing into ankle-deep runoff as dim emergency strips cast the tunnel in sickly amber bands. The deeper sounds of the sewer wrapped around her—dripping condensation, distant turbine vibration, the soft churn of redirected waste—and threaded through it all remained that same sensation.

Movement. Controlled. A team. Her pulse quickened. Not with caution. With delight. She moved through the tunnel like a drawn blade, shoulders loose, smile widening every few steps as the signatures ahead became more distinct. Armored minds. Trained minds. Focused on objective, on route, on extraction, on explosives perhaps—she could almost taste the clinical professionalism of it.

Professional soldiers were so much more satisfying than frightened civilians. They fought back. At the next junction she stopped. Just beyond the curve of the conduit, muted splashes approached. Several. One of them at the fore.

Seris leaned one shoulder against the damp tunnel wall and waited in plain sight, one boot crossing over the other as though she had arrived early to an appointment. Crimson light ignited with a violent snap-hiss, washing the filth-streaked sewer in blood.

Her grin turned feral. "Well," she called into the dark, voice carrying with bright, eager amusement, "this is disappointing."

The red blades tilted toward the approaching shapes. "I was hoping Humbarine's first intruders would be harder to find."

Her eyes fixed on the one in front. At Kamon. And every hungry part of her sharpened.

​

 

[Darion of Myrkr]

Darion of Myrkr did not see the man until he came down hard on the far end of the roof with a loud thud. The 360-degree vision of his helmet allowed no blind spots and the movement he'd seen earlier looked no different than the drift of lonely, gray clouds sailing under the low sky, no different from the slow press of the crowds far below.

Darion of Myrkr knew then he was no ally. Any of his kin, command or not, had particular and defined ways to reach him – none of them like this out in the open when Darion of Myrkr was on the field. Too much of a congregation of Mandalorians in one place summoned too many eyes.

He did not turn. He kept looking out over the city and he did not think twice.

His tongue clicked once, then again, in a pattern. There was a brief hiss behind his shoulders as the anti-vehicle homing missile loosed from the jetpack and took the air. It went straight and fast, and it burst just short of the man, close enough, and exploded in a great ball of fire and shrapnel.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Tamsin Starfall]

​

Theme: Wicked Gonna Come
Equipment: Twin Omens | Multi-Tool | Stars Enchained | Mind Crown | Wrist Lanvarok | MidNight Duster | Defender
Tags: Gel Karn

Heads started to turn as a small figure walked through the sight. She wore a long black leather duster and her face painted with face of death. Her eyes burned with a sulfur orange glow and stayed fixed ahead paying none of the stare's mind. Her head held high as she had the foreman of the site caught in her gaze. With her followed a small contingent of armed guards in green colored armor.

As the Woman with the painted face moved forward towards the foreman some of the guards with her split off. They moved towards the exit points to the site and took up position. Several pushed back workers who tried to exit and told them.

"Go back to your area's and wait for instructions!" The soldiers' voices commanding as they said it.

As the small woman approached the foreman she looked up at the Lasat foreman. Her strange eyes and painted face unnerved him as she just stared at him for a moment unblinkingly. Before finally choosing to speak.

"I am Darth Lunaris." She said politely and calmly to the Lasat foreman.

"Don't be afraid, the covenant got intel that there maybe some foreign agents wishing to stir a rebellion." The covenant loved a fight and putting down a good rebellion. Though they weren't too keen on letting outsiders get a foothold in their territory without compensation.

"Your company came up in a list of companies that hire a lot of offworlders." Cheaper labor wasn't a crime so there was no judgement in her words as she spoke them. She then reached into her duster and pulled out a datapad. "We are just here to check their credentials." She then handed the least foreman the datapad. It contained a list of those they had employed on this site and a few others.

"What I need you to do is to call the workers to an open area on the site. Then have them form two lines one of locals and one of offworlders. The locals can present their ids or papers first to the guards and go home for the day. Then you can leave and we will deal with the offwolders." She looked at him hard her face turning dead serious. As the Lasat man gulped and nodded as he moved towards the intercom system for the site.

"All workers report to Section A of the site. Once there I need the locals and migrants to split into separate groups for a head count. You will need to present your identification to Covenant authorities." As the Lasat Foreman spoke over the intercom there was a slight quiver in his voice.