Mission The Fresia Connection | COV

[Siv Dragr]

G U N S L I N G E R
Fresia
​

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
​

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.

 

[Zandra Ruus]

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

Zandra was a type of Mandalorian who indulged in frontline combat, her zeal acting as a shield for her emotions. Working behind enemy lines usually meant she was the distraction, but Dragr had other ideas. When it came to Sith, she wanted to kick their teeth in, a pound of flesh for the loss on Humbarine. Some of her clan mates died in that op, and she wanted payback.

This wasn't a vengeance operation though, this was a scouting mission. It was a prelude to a war Zandra was oh so happy to wage. When the time came, this planet would burn.

There was also the matter of Ferrin's lecture. If Siv hadn't have spoken first, she'd have told the old hunter exactly where to stick his advice. No reason to lash out at other mandos though, there were Sith that needed gutting. Her focus was on the war effort, and unfortunately that meant meant she'd need to control her bloodlust for a while.

"I can set up some backdoor in their security once we're inside. Just gotta make sure I don't leave a trace."

Slicing, both with blade and with computer, was a skill Zandra had honed. Most of her knowledge of electronics came from disassembling and reassembling electronics back on Coruscant. It turned out that your average civillian circuit boards were pretty robust, enough for a street kid to learn the basics.

The re-entry process shook Zandra's bones, it was an exhilarating sensation each time it happened! Though her preference was high altitude jumps, this would suffice for a stealthy entry. Even amongst the buckling of the ship, Zandra could find time to take her cigarettes from her leg pouch.

Before the recent upheaval in her life, she didn't smoke much. Now it seemed like every day she was needing to spark up. It was a detour for just a few seconds for the anxieties in hwr mind. As the hot smoke filled her lungs, she could focus on something other than the war. A simple inhale, then exhale, repeat as needed.

"Should be closing in on the DZ in a few moments. There's something I wanted to ask," Zandra said, looking towards the cherry of her own smoke. The small flame was to her a promise, that there was some light left for her to focus on. "When I'm poking around in the database, should I be looking for anything interesting? I'd love to find out where the Sith keep their fun toys..."

 

[Ferrin Dorn]

LOCATION: Lower Coromons, Fresia | Atmospheric Entry aboard the Kyr'yc Saca
ALLIES: COV | Siv Dragr | Zandra Ruus
ENEMIES: N/A (Stealth Infiltration Phase)
GEAR: In bio // Tra'galaar-pattern Service Sidearms: The Briar Twins, Bramble Flies​

Ferrin absorbed his instructions with the flat, methodical nod of a professional constructor. Mapping out territory to plant a hidden covert was exactly why he had been hauled off his isolated hunting trails in the first place. Soldiers saw a city sector as a grid for a firefight; a pathfinder like Ferrin saw it as an ecosystem that needed a hidden anchor.

He slid The Thorn's Bite into the ship's secure weapons bulkhead, the heavy bolt-action hunting rifle far too long and distinct to carry into a high-security commercial starport if they intended to pass as simple Foerost shippers. He locked the electronic latch with a dull click, his amber T-slit visor lingering on the dark ebony wood stock for a brief second.

"Consider the mapping done, Alor," Ferrin's voice rasped through his vocalizer, low and completely unaffected by the violent, bone-shaking rattle of the ship hitting re-entry. "A good covert needs multiple blind egress points, a localized power buffer to mask our thermal signatures, and access to the civilian drainage lines so our shadows don't trip their perimeter grids. I'll have the sector completely charted by the time we offload the first crates. Just make sure nobody touches that long gun while I'm away from the bulkheads."

He adjusted his tattered reaver-beast cape, turning his attention toward the young brawler as the thick scent of her cigarette smoke filled the cockpit. It had been a long time since he had one, but decided against asking. Zandra had indicated she was ready to slice into the database, but her focus was already split on whatever hidden projects Incom was stashing away in the sector.

"If you're poking around in the Incom database Vod, I suggest looking out for their raw material manifests, shipping logs, and fuel distribution schedules," Ferrin mumbled calmly, his hand resting idly on the grip of one of his Briar Twins pistols holstered low at his hip. "If we want to map out exactly what the Sith are building on this world, follow the fuel cells and the high-grade alloy shipments. If we can suss out where the resource lines bottleneck, we'll spot their most vital facilities."

He turned his visor back toward the shaking viewport, watching the green-and-blue islands of the Lower Coromons expand through the breaking clouds below them.

In his free hand, Ferrin produced one of his custom insectoid micro drones, its size all but indistinguishable from one of the many common flying pest found on inhabited worlds. "My Bramble Flies are already synced with the ship's terminal, just waiting for the cargo ramp to drop," he explained as he checked the power cells on his sidearms. "The second the atmosphere levels out, I'll start logging a passive telemetry grid. Let's make sure we find their blind spots before they find ours."

 

[Siv Dragr]

G U N S L I N G E R
Fresia
​

Tag: Zandra Ruus | Ferrin Dorn

Siv handled all the paperwork of landing. Flying was one thing; dealing with the bureaucracy of landing permits, authorization codes, and shipping manifests was a skill developed either through heavy labor as a dedicated shipper, or a deft hand at concealment. Siv was skilled with the latter. All of the Saca's fake transponder codes would check out, and the starship, designated a light freighter on Fresia traffic control comms, was cleared to land.

A steady hand controlled the starship's path as it broke through clouds of the lower atmosphere, thin contrails spreading from its wingtips. Cerulean ocean sparkled like a million glittering gemstones in the bright midday sunlight, and stretching over the horizon were the jade-green Comoron islands, dotted here and there by small sandy atolls. The bright tropical paradise shining through the viewport contrasted starkly against the comparatively grimy interior of the starship. If Siv cared, he'd feel self-conscious; instead, the planet's natural beauty seemed not even to register, his expression hidden beneath his helmet.

"When I'm poking around in the database, should I be looking for anything interesting? I'd love to find out where the Sith keep their fun toys..."

"My Bramble Flies are already synced with the ship's terminal, just waiting for the cargo ramp to drop," he explained as he checked the power cells on his sidearms. "The second the atmosphere levels out, I'll start logging a passive telemetry grid. Let's make sure we find their blind spots before they find ours."

Siv didn't turn to respond, talking over his shoulder as he focused on bringing the starship down to the starport. "Anything and everything you see, scrape." Any intel was good intel. On that note, he turned to Dorn. "As we prepare to land, launch those flies." He'd watch Ferrin fussing over the drones and secretly harbored a curiosity to see them in action. "Landing now," he added as he pulled the ship up into the port. Prep time was over. Siv expertly guided the Saca to the ground. The bright noonday sun shone down on the ship.

 

[Ferrin Dorn]

LOCATION: Lower Coromons, Fresia | Commercial Starport Landing Pad
ALLIES: COV | Siv Dragr | Zandra Ruus
GEAR: In bio // Tra'galaar-pattern Service Sidearms: The Briar Twins // Bramble-Flies​

Through the viewport of the Saca, Ferrin quietly watched the tropical world expand. For a brief moment beneath his helmet, the hardened, calculating mind of a pathfinder gave way to a rare sense of quiet awe. Fresia was breathtaking. The endless stretch of azure ocean sparkled like crushed gemstones under the midday sun, giving way to vibrant, jade-green island chains fringed by pristine white sands. It was a far cry from the harsh, unforgiving landscapes he usually called home. His ordinary life was spent between the isolated vacuum of the void and the myriad untamed climes and environments of so many uncharted worlds that he sought out to explore. To see a world that felt less like a survival trial and more like an open paradise was a jarring, beautiful reminder of what the galaxy looked like outside of a war zone.

But a paradise held by the Sith was still a hunting ground, and the metallic, heavy clunk of the starship's landing struts locking onto the pad instantly pulled him back to reality as the blinding glare of the sun washed over the grime of their hull. They were officially inside the belly of the beast.

Ferrin didn't offer a spoken reply to Siv's command. Flicking his left wrist plate, the localized container on his gauntlet unsealed with a faint, hydraulic hiss. Three of the thumb-sized, metallic Bramble-Fly micro-drones detached from the casing, their specialized micro-repulsors humming at an incredibly high, near-audible frequency before stabilization algorithms kicked in and completely deadened the sound. To any passing Incom labor guard or dockworker looking toward the ship's vents, the tiny bugs would look indistinguishable from the common tropical midges and biting pests native to the Coromon island chain.

The moment the ship's primary cargo ramp cracked open, breaking the pressure seal and letting the thick, salt-heavy tropical air invade the hold, the drones drifted out into the sunlight. They didn't fly in a straight, military reconnaissance pattern; they scattered erratically, mimicking the natural, lazy swarming behavior of local fauna while silently bathing the surrounding landing pad in a low-yield sensor sweep. Silently, the blank telemetry grid began to stitch itself together in a faint, pulsing green hue. The starport's immediate fuel lines, structural blind spots, and automated security camera sweeping arcs slowly materialized over his HUD as they simultaneously streamed directly to the slaved connection on the Saca.

"The flies are out, Alor," Ferrin mumbled onto the encrypted com-link, his voice dropping to a low, quiet rasp as he adjusted the tattered edges of his reaver-beast cape. "They're tapping into the starport's secondary localized sensor loops now. The data is streaming cleanly back to the cockpit terminal. We've got a window of unmonitored space along the southern cargo containers. Now we just need to start playing our parts." Looking back towards Zandra, Ferrin smiled and said "Alright, Vod'ika. Time to have some fun!".

He let his hands drop casually near the low-slung grips of The Briar Twins, ensuring his posture looked like that of a tired, working-class freighter guard rather than a lethal Mandalorian hunter. He stepped down the ramp, his heavy boots carefully finding the natural cadence of a civilian dock worker.

Once his boots hit the heat-baked tarmac, Ferrin subtly leaned into the role. He didn't lock his armor into a rigid, defensive guard stance. Instead, he let his shoulders slouch slightly, adjusting the heavy utility belt at his waist like a technician weary from a long hyperspace haul. Raising a gauntleted hand, he used the back of his wrist to absentmindedly wipe a streak of re-entry grease from his visor, rolling his neck with a dull pop as he squinted at the bustling starport crane arrays. He let out a low, performative grunt of annoyance into the local atmosphere just loud enough for a nearby forklift droid to register his feigned irritation with the humid, sticky climate. Hooking his thumbs into his belt loops right beside his holstered pistols, he walked a slow, lazy semi-circle around the nose of the Saca, casually kicking a loose piece of hydro-spanner scrap off the landing pad as if he were just another bored, underpaid deckhand waiting for the local port authorities to finish checking the manifests.

 

[Zandra Ruus]

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

Everything was going smoothly so far, Ferrin was a bit chummy, but that was negligible. In fairness Zandra appreciated the affable nature a lot more than pure, unchecked bravado that was common in those of Clan Ruus. All she had to do was get to a data terminal, simple chit a droid could do.

Thing was, droids couldn't be trusted to get high risk jobs done. Any clanker with enough sense to slice couldn't hack it in a knife fight. It was an advantage to be able to do multiple jobs, and few could handle a blade like her.

The shift was in full swing, workers loyal to their masters toiled away as if nothing was going on. Even as The Core was in the throws of conflict, people still had to be good little workers. It was a good thing they were unaware of the wolves that lurked among their flock. It made Zandra sick, watching them lift and stack while paradise laid just a few kilometers away. How many of them were aware of the gilded cage they lived in?

She shook her head, there was no reason to think about it. These people weren't Mandalorians, they were happy enough to raise up those who oppressed them. They were just like those who found normalcy in the slums while GA politicians grew fatter in the high rises.

A steam whistle sounded, and Zandra took a moment. She looked around, break time. A perfect cover for what she needed to do. There was only the matter of getting away from the workers and into the management sector.

Her instinct was that Incom would likely keep Sith related information deep in the admin building. At first she walked towards the cafeteria, but she stopped near a dock. Looking over to one of the menial workers, taking a pack of cigarettes out.

"Would rather smoke than eat. You go ahead." He was easy enough to get away from...

Now it was just a matter of getting to Admin without killing anyone. She didn't want to test Siv's patience, the old mando sounded like he had little to divvy out. Too bad too, places like this needed to get shook up.

Zandra puffed away, checking the watch she kept on her left wrist. Old school, mechanical, reliable when chit hit the fan. She had thirty minutes, after that there would be awkward questions...

 

[Siv Dragr]

G U N S L I N G E R
Fresia
​

Tag: Zandra Ruus | Ferrin Dorn

"The flies are out, Alor.They're tapping into the starport's secondary localized sensor loops now. The data is streaming cleanly back to the cockpit terminal. We've got a window of unmonitored space along the southern cargo containers. Now we just need to start playing our parts." Looking back towards Zandra, Ferrin smiled and said "Alright, Vod'ika. Time to have some fun!".

Siv grunted, distracted as he retrieved a heavy poncho from an overhead compartment, complete with a hood, which he threw over his armor. Not exactly a cloaking device, but it was better than nothing when it came to concealing his armor. From his belt, he produced a two-way, simple radio device. It was encrypted enough, but only sent out pulses that were indecipherable, basic enough that there was no message to be encoded. Siv's contact would know that several erratic broadcasts would mean they were here, and to proceed to the rendezvous. Whether they were received at all was entirely unknown; such were the risks associated with intelligence work.

Sun beat down on the Saca's landing ramp; squinting his eyes against the flare of Fresia's bright sun before his auto-polarizing lens corrected its intensity, Siv stepped out from the ship's shadow, the last down the ramp. Ferrin was upbeat, already off to work, seeming to take everything in stride. Zandra seemed more removed and reluctant, perhaps still a little disappointed after having been proverbially hand-tied from blowing up the entire island. Whether they were reliable despite that disappointment, Siv would have to see.

"Would rather smoke than eat. You go ahead."

Siv stopped to watch Zandra approach the dockworker, drawing a cig, thought about stopping her, then decided against it. "My rendezvous is in that bar," he grunted at Ferrin, though Zandra would hear it in her earpiece too. The bar was a local dockside establishment, propped up against the industrial offloading spires and just close enough to the shore that it offered a scenic view of what damage industry could do to a once-pristine shoreline. "Let's keep our distance. Draws less attention that way. The Saca is on sentry mode, so we'll be alerted if anyone tries to tamper with it." Siv was off towards the bar, drawing up the hood of his poncho over his helmet.

 

[Her]

---

---

"Vūm is a peculiar investment hedge fund who act in a variety of fields including business negotiation, political influence and as economists. They selectively and financially back exclusive clientele, individuals or other organisations for the purpose of influencing politics, commerce and policies within galactic powers located in the Outer Rim and Mid Rim systems."
-- A description of the peculiar, little known organisation called Vūm.

---

Tags: Siv Dragr | Zandra Ruus | Ferrin Dorn

---

Dragr's contact was a peculiar woman to say the least. He and the other Mandalorians would get to know that fast. Her would have to endeavour not to alienate them completely with her ways if they were going to work together. The potential outweighed the risks, however. Erratic bursts rung discreetly in her ear but Her endured the minor annoyance due to the prospects in play. Lifting a hand to shut the transmitter off, Her relaxed and admired the drink in her other hand as she waited for contact. She didn't need the radio anymore, and besides, the less ways that she can be tracked, the better it would be. There was no telling what this so-called ' Sith Covenant ' would do if they discovered that an Imperial had snuck back onto Fresia. Nothing good, Her summarized quietly.

So it was real, or at least, it could be. When the meet had been arranged through Vūm, Her had passed along instructions that would needed to be fed to Dragr if they were going to meet properly. Among them included the verification that the Sithbane would need to verify who his contact was. The logo was a rarely known thing to most people. Vūm were small, discreet, and alien. Only a handful of people had ever heard of the hedge fund as they only looked for exclusive clientele. The right person. Dragr had fit the bill. So, Siv would know what to look for when he entered the bar. Her had the emblem pinned to their chest. Only his contact would be wearing something like that. It was discreet but hard to miss if you knew what you were looking for. This wasn't the first time she had met someone like this and it wouldn't be the last time in this line of work.

---

 

[Zandra Ruus]

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

"My rendezvous is in that bar,"

"Copy that, I'm making my way to Admin. I will do some digging there."

Zandra's voice was barely a whisper as she started walking up a set of fire stairs. It would be a damn sight easier if she could just walk around in full armor. Her active camo would make ghosting this place that much easier. Regardless, her suit was lithe enough to wear under coveralls. Long as she didn't bump into anyone it'd be hard to tell the difference.

The headquarters building was a massive high rise that looked over the bay. It was small by Coruscant standards, but there was something familiar to it. Not that Zandra had been there before, but she'd seen quite a few like it. For this place, it was a measure of opulence.

"Business types sure their building measuring contests. Gonna enjoy making this place a lot shorter," The punk said as she walked into the lobby. She'd use her janitorial coveralls as a decent prop. The cover story being that she was a fill in temp sent up from the docks. Meant she'd be allowed to slip into the spots these paranoid suits were most wary about. "Zandra to Ferrin, I've made my way to Admin. Keep me updated as to where you are."

Just had to find the server farm was all, nothing crazy. Perhaps she would be able to get through the day without pulling a blade. It would be a change of pace, a boring one, but a change of pace none the less...

Mop bucket in front of her, Zandra pushed her way up the building. On the 14th floor of the obtrusive structure, she found a data terminal. In the other room looked like a server cluster of some kind, possible jackpot there! Now all she had to do was get to it. First she tried the data terminal, limited success there.

Getting a keycard would be risky. Her instinct was to slip a chunk of metal out of her pocket, and pop the front off of the card reader. The circuitry and wires there-in were pretty standard, just had to bypass some wires and that was that. The whole time her hear thumped in her ear.

Getting caught meant that she'd have to answer some very awkward questions from security. The server cluster though, that was worth a potential cover busting. The little rat managed to open up the sliding door to the cluster. She'd be able to sift through the data, the question was how fast? After linking her vambrace into one of the terminals, she whistled. "I have a crawler with your name on it, just have to see what files talk about the ships and fuel..."

 

[Ferrin Dorn]

Game On
LOCATION: Lower Coromons, Fresia | Commercial Starport Tarmac
ALLIES: COV | Siv Dragr Zandra Ruus Her
GEAR: In bio // Tra'galaar-pattern Service Sidearms: The Briar Twins // Bramble-Flies​

The subtle, rhythmic hiss of a nearby atmospheric filtration vent was the only companion Ferrin had as Zandra's whisper cracked through his short-range audio receptor.

Out on the open, heat-baked duracrete pad, Ferrin didn't straighten his posture or look toward the grand, obtrusive administrative high-rise looming over the bay. To any passing orbital or local security camera sweep, he was just a weary, underpaid freighter guard slouched against a stack of crates, lazily rolling a dull mechanical hydro-spanner between his gloved fingers to pass the time during a routine customs delay.


Flicking his thumb across his right gauntlet console, he low-frequency whispered back into his helmet's internal collar-mic.

"Loud and clear," Ferrin mumbled, his voice a flat, unhurried rumble beneath his polarizing amber visor. "I'm pacing out a slow patrol around the nose of the Saca. The Alor made it into the dockside bar to meet with the contact. We've got clear distance between us."

Beneath his tattered reaver-beast cape, his HUD was actively pulsing with light-green wireframe updates. The lazy, erratic swarming loops of his drifting Bramble-Flies were paying dividends. They had successfully mapped the starport's secondary localized sensor lines and were currently overlaying the subterranean layout directly onto his display.

"I'm tracking your position on the 14th floor," Ferrin added, his visor tracking the invisible digital ping emanating from the administrative high-rise. "As soon as you jacked-in to their servers, the flies mapped out the architecture of Incom's local terminals. I'm routing an encrypted proxy channel back through the Saca's slaved connection through to your vambrace link. It should mask your crawler's data footprint and give you an unmonitored lane through their fuel and shipping manifests before their central security network can trace the spike."

He shifted his weight, letting his arms drop loosely back to his belt loops, right beside the low-slung grips of The Briar Twins. His eyes remained trained on a passing forklift droid, maintaining his cover while his pathfinder arrays meticulously mapped out a labyrinth of civilian drainage pipes running directly beneath the tarmac, a key structural foundation for a future hidden Covenant covert.

"I'm also running geoscans of the immediate area. The drainage corridors running beneath the terminal docks look completely blind to their perimeter grids," he relayed quietly to both Zandra and the Alor over the frequency, keeping his casual posture perfectly locked down as he slowly paced back toward the ship's landing gear. "And it gets better. The flies just flagged that these conduits intersect with an pre-industrial volcanic aqueducts running deep through the island's crust. It's an active, unmonitored fresh water matrix. If we were looking to plant a base down there, we'd have a permanent water supply completely off the corporate grid, and the natural flow will mask some of our thermal exhaust.

"I'm charting the egress vectors now. Sift through that data cluster fast, Vod'ika. Once Siv wraps up his meetings, we should be ready to move sharply."

 

[Siv Dragr]

G U N S L I N G E R
Fresia
​

Tag: Her | Zandra Ruus | Ferrin Dorn

Sunlight, slanted, filtered in through the bar entrance. Wooden floorboards, aged and bloated from the humid salt-heavy seaside air, creaked under Siv's heavy boots. Against the industrial docks of Incom's headquarters, this bar felt distinctly older and out of place; small, considerably, a piece of Fresian history. It took little intuition to surmise that this establishment had been around long before the rest of the industry, back in a long-forgotten time when the island's shores weren't covered in factories and polluted by waste runoff.

The Mandalorian didn't know who his contact was. The lone transmission had been short, cut off by signal strength or prudence to avoid detection. All he knew was that whoever they were would be wearing a distinctive brooch. Siv stood in the doorway for a moment, his silhouette casting a shadow into the dusty interior, as he surveyed the ba's interior. A couple of dock workers in a corner, a cleaning droid there. It was early in the Fresian day, although said day lasted extraordinarily long by any measure, over five standard galactic days. The unnatural rotation cycle meant that non-natives, or natives constrained to an offworlder's schedule, lived life in a perpetual hangover.

Siv's eyes narrowed. One woman stood out from the rest. She had a distinct air about her, more alert than the other dockworkers present. Siv took several steps up to the bar, casually leaning against the countertop right next to her, not directly looking at the woman. He glanced downwards with his eyes without moving his neck, meaning the gesture was unrecognizable under the mask of his helmet. The brooch. She must be his contact. Still, caution prevailed in a setting as tense as this. "Weather's looking stormy," he grunted to no one in particular, an innocuous phrase, but upon any critical examination -- given the bright, clear skies just outside -- it would be borderline ludicrous. Except that was the transmitted pass-phrase the contact had demanded be used. If this woman were the contact, she would know it.

 

[Her]

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Tags: Siv Dragr | Ferrin Dorn | Zandra Ruus

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"Weather's looking stormy."

"That is what happens when the sky is falling," Her replied cryptically as she spoke the arranged response to Dragr's cryptic greeting.

The odd, peculiar woman was wearing glasses which obfuscated the crimson, red eyes behind the lens. They were eyeing the Mandalorian thoughtfully as he stood there beneath his poncho and hat. Averting her gaze from Siv to the chrono on Her wrist she held her gaze there for a moment, checking the time, before taking the brooch off and pocketing it as she said in a discreet, low tone: "In thirty-seven minutes there will be a change in the security sweeps. They are still looking for Imperial dissidents leftover by the Empire. So, I will give you fifteen to talk and to convince me, so speak plainly, and talk quickly, Mandalorian."

A lot had happened to Fresia in a relatively short amount of time.

It had not been that long ago when the Fre'ji system used to be a member of a Galactic Alliance which spanned most of the Core Worlds and Mid-systems before it was overthrown and turned into the Galactic Empire. Then, inexplicably, a Sith Covenant emerged in the Tapani sectors, and from there, they waged a daring invasion which resulted in them conquering the Empire after the Dark-Imperials had finally claimed victory in the Great Core Wars.

The sudden instability in the Core Worlds, brought on by years of war, could be no better reflected than in the Coromon Islands. Unlike the hundreds of sectors that were held by the Sith Empire, who lingered as an ever present, almost omnipotent threat on the other side of the BLACKWALL, Vūm's data and analysis on Fresia was far more accurate due to the fact there wasn't a long, encroaching, dark anomaly preventing conventional scanners, long range communications or media reports which were being prevented from being seen or heard by those who were on the other side of it.

Rubbish. If you were to take a five minute walk around the streets surrounding the bar (where Her had arranged to discreetly meet Dragr) you would see cans, plastics and an amalgamation of other filth which littered the pavements and overflowed in the receptacles. A sign, among many, that civilisation itself was falling under the bane of this Sith Covenant. Say what you will about the jackboots of the Imperial Stormtrooper, and the alleged unfairness or corruption which seemed rampant as it came to law and justice, these Coromon Islands, and Fresia itself, would not have been left like this if they still marched in these island towns.

Her understood in essence why Dragr wanted to talk. Rebellions often started like this. It had not been too long ago, when the Empire of the Lost ruled the Tion Hegemony and Ash Worlds in the first Imperial occupation of the Outer Rim Territories, that Her had played the part of Staff Director for the covert security apparatus colloquially known as the New Imperial Security Bureau. There was a familiarity to all of this. Experience that could be key if Fresia were to be liberated from the Tapani-Sith invaders who had conquered the Galactic Empire.

"Should we start with names?"

The hidden, little known heir of the traitorous Fifth Wing and orchestrator of the Sartinaynian Crisis. Rumours. Whispers. Obscure connections to a multitude of events which transpired along the Outer Rim Territories since the turn-of-the-ninth century. A conspiracy against the Sith Order. Could the Iron Covenant work with such a person?

"You can call me Laetor."

---

 

[Siv Dragr]

G U N S L I N G E R
Fresia
​

Tag: Her | Zandra Ruus | Ferrin Dorn

"That is what happens when the sky is falling."

Siv perked at the equally cryptic response, the acceptance of the passphrase, and the indication that wholly within the realm of possibility, this scarlet-spectacled stranger was indeed his contact. Though he could never be completely sure, there was always the possibility that Sith counterintelligence had, somehow, gotten to them first and put their own plant in place. Caution was still prudent, then she continued.

In thirty-seven minutes there will be a change in the security sweeps. They are still looking for Imperial dissidents leftover by the Empire. So, I will give you fifteen to talk and to convince me, so speak plainly, and talk quickly, Mandalorian. Should we start with names? You can call me Laetor."

The Mandalorian fought the urge to directly stare at her -- Laetor -- though he needed to appear as if they weren't in the middle of a conversation. Who knew what eyes were watching them? "Siv," he grunted back, his voice's tone low. "We received a message from a resistance movement. That you?" Ruus and Dorn hadn't checked in yet, and if what Laetor said about the security sweep was true, then they were all on a countdown before they had to get moving. He could feel the seconds ticking away on the chronometer.

 

[Zandra Ruus]

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

Slicing was an involved process, and having an older mando chatting away in your comms didn't make it easier. However, Zandra had something better for nerves than a hot cup of caff. Over 90% of her nervous system had been replaced by a complex neuromesh. a woven fiber-optic that could transmit data orders of magnitude faster than normal nerve endings. She was able to compute things almost as quickly as they were said, making Ferrin's speech seem slowed down compared to her own thoughts.

Zandra was hitting keys and pressing on screens with an unnerving speed, her fingers a blur as they worked. She was constantly scanning lines of code, her brain on fire as she worked back through months of data in seconds. She may have been bloodthirsty, but she made a hell of a slicer.

"Working through fuel deliveries now, gosh they go through a lot of fuel don't they. I'm seeing months of manifests moving throughout the core. Seeing shipments that could fuel battlecruisers all going to a central hub. What in the Hell is on Kampe?" Zandra was now muttering to herself into her open comms. She spoke a mile a minute, and it was clear something off was there.

"Chit, if all of this is starship fuel, there's a fleet in the deep core that's as big as the main arm of the Mythos. I'm seeing design schematics for new destroyers, weapons diagnostics and specifications for new vessels from Incom bigwigs. I'm cloning data as fast as I can, but this connection is too slow, It'd take an hour to dump it all!"

Zandra huffed, her eyes starting to blur as she kept tapping away at the screens. That was the downside of her enhanced nerves, human brains weren't meant to process data with that sort of speed. She held her head for a moment, letting herself turn off the augs.

"I'll be heading out soon. I need a kriffing caff," Zandra said, still coming down from the high of her crazy fast nerves. She took out the datachip inside the terminal it only took a few minutes for it to be loaded up with the important findings about the fleet near Kampe. All the other information would come with it, all she had to do was get out now.

Perfect...

 

[Ferrin Dorn]

LOCATION: Lower Coromons, Fresia | Commercial Starport Tarmac
ALLIES: Siv Dragr Zandra Ruus Her​

On the open duracrete pad, Ferrin didn't flinch or alter his lazy, slouched posture against the cargo crates, but beneath his polarizing amber visor, his jaw locked hard as Zandra's breathless, hyper-accelerated muttering flooded his audio receptor. A deep core fleet assembly near Kampe, and a massive blueprint dump for new capital ships was exactly the kind of intelligence that could keep the Covenant from getting blindsided again.

But a hunter knew that the moment a trap was sprung, the clock on the environment would immediately reset.

Tossing the grease-stained hydro-spanner one last time into the air and catching it with the practiced, slow indifference of an exhausted deckhand, he casually leaned back against the shipping container and low-frequency whispered into his collar-mic.

"That's a hell of a haul, vod'ika," Ferrin mumbled, his voice a steady, gravelly murmur completely masked by the steady whine of the nearby starport filtration vents. "Siv's contact just confirmed that a Sith security sweep is getting ready to cycle through the area. If krif hits the fan and you need another way out, I'm tossing a map grid onto your HUD. My flies tracked an unmonitored maintenance shaft right behind the 14th-floor server cluster."

Flicking his fingers across his right gauntlet console while feigning a long, dramatic yawn to any passing Incom labor droids, he pushed the technical layout directly to her vambrace link.

"It drops straight into those secondary drainage conduits I logged earlier. If you decide to pull the chip and ghost the high-rise, that line runs underground. It's totally blind to their grids, and the cold-water flow should mask your thermal signature on the way out. It dumps out right behind the southern cargo block by the Saca."

He unhooked his thumbs from his belt loops, casually stretching his arms above his head in a perfectly executed display of working-class fatigue before resting his palms low against the grips of his pistols. His eyes scanned the horizon, verifying that his micro-drones were still successfully covering her exit footprint.

"Alor, the engines are warm and ready to cycle on my mark. The moment you wrap your meeting and Zandra hits the dirt, I got us ready to lift immediately if we need to."

 

[Her]

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Tags: Siv Dragr | Zandra Ruus | Ferrin Dorn

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"Siv."

Quietly Her, or as she had introduced herself by the alias Laetor, memorized the name given by her Mandalorian contact. She wondered to what extent her new, potential accomplices against the Sith could find out about Dragr's contact from Fresia. Events along the Outer Rim Territories, over the past five years, appeared to be unrelated, unconnected and appeared to be the consequence of domineering factions playing Empire only to be crushed by a combination of Sith cunning and Mandalorian warfare. Yet, if you knew where to look, and recognised the design, which on the surface appeared less nuanced at a surface level, one could see a pattern where Sith power had been challenged on multiple fronts.

"We received a message from a resistance movement. That you?"

"My people appear as a number of different entities or fronts," Her replied cryptically to Dragr. "A directorate in the civilian branch of the Imperial Confederation, or a bureau fronting the security apparatus for the Empire of the Lost. We have taken many forms as it pertains to the Sith."

As Siv and Her conversed at the bar minutes were elapsing. Slipping through their fingers to pass them by. Unknowingly the same sweep (that Her had alluded to earlier) were beginning their rounds in the nearby streets. They would be here in this bar soon, Her summarized. When they got here they would not leave for hours. These Covenant-Sith liked to enjoy the fruits of the Core. They were relaxed in their assertion that they were in control and often exercised that feeling by making sure the locals knew what it was like to feel their wrath. It took a lot for people to miss the Empire and yet the covenant managed to make the idea of an Imperial Stormtrooper far more appealing than what they had to bare today.

Her did not want to entertain that type of noise. Not today, particularly, when she did not know these Mandalorians, and yet, the notion of a collaboration was very appealing to the Dark Lord while she considered her next plot.

"Thirteen minutes," Her muttered to Siv as she reminded him of the time that he had to talk. If Dragr was unconvincing then he would never see her again. "I suggest that you cut to the point. Tell me about Fresia. What makes this star system ripe for a rebellion?"

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