Mission The Fresia Connection | COV

[Siv Dragr]

G U N S L I N G E R
Fresia
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Tag: Zandra Ruus | Ferrin Dorn | OPEN

Enemy territory.

That's what Fresia was. The Iron Covenant had only just struck the beast on Humbarine, and as they began to entrench themselves in the Core Worlds, they were realizing how deep the Sith's web had been woven. The Nynir'kade, the secret intelligence wing of the Iron Covenant, had been ears-to-the-ground from the moment that the Mythos Fleet had moved to Abregado-Rae. Tip-off had come from an unknown contact on Fresia, headquarters of the Incom Corporation. Given the massive Sith fleet that had materialized over Humbarine, the Mandalorians were chasing down any shipbuilding leads that could give them information on the Sith. Fresia instantly highlighted itself as a target.

Siv Dragr had been assigned the covert mission of infiltrating the world to figure out what was going on. The Iron Covenant needed to weave a tapestry before they struck lest the same mistakes of Humbarine be repeated. That costly price had already been paid once; Siv had been there. He was determined not to let it happen again.

Above the tropical world hung the Kyr'yc Saca, Siv's personal scout ship. It was outfitted with enough stealth technology that he could fly right by a sensor system and they'd be completely unaware of it. Against the stellar backdrop, however, a single freighter-sized ship was easy to miss, stealth systems or no. He'd parked it in orbit as he turned towards the Mandalorians he'd chosen to accompany him.

"We're here to find facts, not to fight," Siv stated matter-of-factly, with a tone that left no room for objection. "Last time someone blew their cover, Humbarine happened. There is no Mythos Fleet rescue to bail us. A firefight is our last resort." He turned towards a small jury-rigged holotable, which was displaying a projection of the same planet that hung below them, just visible through the cockpit's viewports. "Fresia has the misfortune of seven moons, which creates extremely complicated tidal cycles. A day here lasts 22 standard rotations. It's your perfect fake tropical paradise."

He jabbed a gloved finger towards an icon highlighted on the map. "Lower Coromons. It's part of the Coromon Island chain, a residential sector for the Incom labor force. There's a commercial starport we'll be infiltrating, as shippers from Foerost." He gestured towards the crates that were stacked throughout the ship. "Cover is we're delivering parts for Incom, last-minute delivery to compensate for an incomplete shipment last rotation." Of course, it had been the Nynir'kade who had been responsible for the missing parts in the original shipment.

"Once we touch down, we're following up on the last transmission from our contact. The coordinates are in the Lower Coromons. We cannot be seen. Do you understand?" He looked at his vode expecting an answer.

​

 

[Zandra Ruus]

Location: Lower Coromons, Fresia
Tags: Siv Dragr Ferrin Dorn
Gear in Bio

Zandra listened to Siv in the same way a student listened to a teacher, which was to say, it lacked enthusiasm. She reclined in a chair with one foot on a crate, her thumb running idly over the tip of a throwing knife as Siv spoke. There were choice words that she'd picked out: Incom, Foerost, Starport, and most dreadful of all, Quiet.

Quiet was not exactly Zandra's forte, one look at her combat record would tell anyone that. She'd been a neo-crusader. One who tore through enemies like a scythe to wheat. From the burning of Cathar, to her battle with Jonyna Si, and onto the debacle on Korriban. None of it ever went unnoticed.

The punk Mandalorian sat up from the chair, a hand on her knee before she spoke. "It's a pretty chit detail if you ask me. I mean, if we know where the frelling spaceport is, we should just burn the whole chithouse down." Her words spoke of much zeal, but a lack of experience. Blowing up an entire starport sounded great in theory, but it lacked any sort of greater thought.

In short, the Sith were too vast to wage conventional warfare on, larger battles would only strengthen their resolve, Zandra didn't think that far ahead. She saw a target, and inside her mind she'd found a solution to the short term issue. It lacked nuance, something that wasn't too uncommon in young soldiers.

There were things that she wasn't considering. Namely the wider effect this would have on the rest of the fleet. Leaders, real leaders anyway, were always thinking of more than themselves. For Zandra, that was difficult. It's why she left the heavier mental lifting to people like Saram or Siv.

Whether or not the older member of the The Covenant would be so forgiving or understanding was yet to be seen. Her words weren't just a hasty error made by a young fighter, they were liabilities. Liabilities got people killed...

 

[Ferrin Dorn]

The Hunter
LOCATION: Orbit above Fresia | Aboard the Kyr'yc Saca
ALLIES: Siv Dragr Zandra Ruus
GEAR: Beskar'gam / Tra'galaar-pattern Service Sidearms: The Briar Twins / Additional gear in bio​

Ferrin didn't mind the silence of the cockpit, but the sudden weight of the mission description was still settling heavily behind his deep amber visor.

Up until a standard rotation ago, he had lived entirely on the extreme fringes of the Mythos Fleet's horizon. He was a creature of the wild, tracking apex beasts on uncharted death worlds and quietly mapping resource veins to feed the civilian kitchens and smithies. Real combat operations, the kind involving frontline drops, trench lines, and major galactic cataclysms, were things he only heard about over communal fleet fire pits. And the Nynir'kade? The secret intelligence shadow-wing? He hadn't even known the Iron Covenant had one until Siv Dragr had tapped him on the shoulder.

A quiet sense of profound honor buzzed beneath his dull, bark-brown and forest green painted Beskar'gam. He wasn't a decorated veteran, nor was he one of their known, potentially flagged operatives recorded on any Sith intelligence data-pad. He was an unknown. But he was also a ghost in the brush. Siv hadn't chosen him to hold a heavy rotary cannon; he had chosen him because Ferrin understood how to disappear, how to follow a trail, and how to read an environment without leaving a footprint.

Leaning his armored backplate against a bulkhead near the stacked cargo crates, Ferrin kept his arms crossed, his gaze shifting smoothly between the flashing icons on the jury-rigged holotable and the other Mandalorian Siv had brought along.

He listened observantly as Zandra Ruus spoke up.

Her suggestion to simply burn the entire Incom spaceport to the ground made Ferrin's right gauntlet idly twitch as his elbow rested comfortably atop the grip of one of The Briar Twins holstered low on his right thigh. She had fire, certainly, and the raw combat zeal of a true frontline brawler. Ferrin knew she was not merely puffing her chest. But a hunter who charged roaring into a brush patch only succeeded in flushing the prey before the trap could close. If she threw a thermal detonator the second their boots hit the lower island starport, the Sith's web would simply contract, and they'd leave Fresia with nothing but smoking debris and zero answers.

If this mission was going to succeed, Ferrin realized he was going to have to play his part meticulously. He couldn't just be the tracker; he had to be an anchor. What he lacked in front-line battle accolades, he more than made up for with age and experience in unfamiliar places.

"Fire ruins the scent of a trail," Ferrin's voice rasped through his helmet's environmental gaskets, low, measured, and entirely lacking the hot-headed edge of the younger warrior. He didn't look at Zandra directly, keeping his amber visor fixed on the Lower Coromons coordinates. "We will take the fight to them in time, and to devastating effect, but act too swiftly, and all we'll do is alert the predator that someone is in its territory. We must mask our scent, blend into the local labor pool if we are to truly find this contact."

He shifted his weight, his heavy metal boots making no sound against the deck plates.

"I've spent weeks tracking beasts through shifting tundras without ever giving them a reason to look behind them. Sentients aren't any different—they just leave electronic tracks instead of broken twigs," Ferrin continued, turning his visor toward Siv. Tell us where to step, Siv. I'll make sure our shadows are the only things we leave behind in those islands."

 

[Siv Dragr]

G U N S L I N G E R
Fresia
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Tag: Zandra Ruus | Ferrin Dorn

Siv regarded both of the Mandalorians level-headedly, listening to their responses. Ruus, he hadn't pegged as the gun-happy type. Maybe choosing her was a misstep, or they would luck out. Dorn was an unknown variable, but he'd been impressed enough watching him hunt Rancors on Felucia. Both of them had made an impression on the veteran's mind. "If we wanted to blow up the port, I would've brought an army," he responded to Zandra coolly.

The old bounty hunter coughed, covering his mouth with his gauntlet. "Each of us has a role to play. Ruus, I need you to focus on assessing defensive systems and see if we can't jury rig anything to be on our side, for the second visit. Dorn, I want you to map out every sector we touch. See where we can establish a covert for the future." He wiped his gauntlet absentmindedly against his armorweave pant leg. It wasn't wet. Really, but more out of habit. "I'll focus on getting us where we need to go. Like I said, the fewer people who know we were here, the better." He looked between the two, almost as if the question Agreed? was left unspoken.

Siv turned to the controls of the Saca. "Beginning atmospheric descent," he muttered as he thumbed the stick of the starcraft, igniting dormant flight systems with a flick of a button. The starship responded with a lively hum as thrusters bloomed to life; the Mandalorians began to descend planetwards.