Faction Frontier Liberation: The Show Must Go On || The Confederacy

[Vemric Keldra]

FRONTIER LIBERATION: A DIFFERENT THREAT

The Galaxy was in turmoil.

Refugees stream from the Core and Inner Rim as the Empire still blights their worlds and as the Mandalorians continue to raid indiscriminately, sparing very little, if anything at all. Violent riots erupt in the jeweled heart of the Galactic Alliance. Even the Sith are encroaching fast on the Southern Systems with its subjugation of free Rimward worlds.

Here in Wild Space, a zealous religious order vehemently opposes progress and stability. Despite the infiltration and silent eradication of some of the Maelstrom Brotherhood by covert Confederate Armed Forces, the Osyronites continue their attack, even targeting trade freighters leaving Confederate Worlds. It is paramount for the Confederacy to strengthen itself in various ways in order to continue bringing stability.

However, external troubles are not our only threat. Reports had come in from Scarif, bearing some concerning news....

In order to continue progress on member worlds and strengthening the Confederacy, solutions must be sought by the political and economic leaders of the State.

A suggested bill on energy advancement has been submitted to the office of the Speaker by a member of the Corporate Council and has been approved to be put forth to the rest of Parliament for deliberation.

Would this bill aid in strengthening the Confederacy in order to stay stalwart in the face of corruption, tyranny and stagnation or will it divide a nation?

Despite continuous skirmishes with the Maelstrom Brotherhood, the Confederacy's worlds aren't spared from their own internal issues.

Troubling reports have been received by Confederate Intelligence from Scarif. From the supposedly cleared and derelict Camp Phoenix in the rural area outside New Lesu city, strange noises have been heard...

With fear still ripe in Scarifian minds of the plague that had ravaged the planet only a decade prior, no one dared to investigate the sudden signs of some activity in the derelict bunker. A request for Confederate Military aid has been made - panicked plea to investigate the disturbance within the corpse that had unleashed so much horror.

Armed Forces are dispatched to learn what they can and eradicate what needs to be eradicated. But be careful...the things that go bump in the night of that bunker may very well be the last thing you see. And whatever you do, don't let whatever is in there, out...

Y'all know what to do. Go ham and enjoy.​

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[Vemric Keldra]

KELDRA
CONGRESS CHAMBERS | ROTHANA
TAG: Open

SUMMER​

The Hapan wedding had turned into a disaster.

Things were spiraling out of control within the cluster and it might expand beyond it if the Alliance isn't careful. All Vemric could ensure, however, is that the member worlds of the Confederacy remained united in the face of all the turmoil in this Galaxy.

The Sephi swept into the Congressional Chambers, for a change deciding to attend a Sitting himself instead of letting Xazzex Xivar handle it on her own. Not that she wasn't capable. He just figured he had to do this job too sometimes.

His icy gaze scanned the Chamber for a second before he took his seat behind the podium. Some were still filtering in, so Vemric gave them all a chance to settle in before he would open the Session.

In the meantime, his mind wandered to the unrest in the Hapes Cluster. The assassination of the Prince and his bride had a full scale clash between the Monarchy and its loyalists set in its ways and those that demand progress. If a situation like that could happen on a world like Hapes, how long before that wildfire spreads to other systems? How long before that puts strain on trade and economy as well? As if the Empire's iron fist and the Mandalorians' hatred for all wasn't enough. Some member worlds of the Confederacy already had to map out new routes in order to get their products sold within the rest of the Galaxy.

He was responsible for these people, despite their independence. Their overall safety and prosperity somehow rested on his shoulders. He had to ensure that solutions could be agreed upon to establish progress in the form of economy, infrastructure and so much more. If the Confederacy can become completely self sufficient, it could weather the storm that the Galaxy threw at it.

Or so one could hope.

He glanced at the room again from behind the podium. He would soon be able to call the Session to order.
​

 

[Tertius C. Nargath]

PARLIAMENT FLOOR| ROTHANA
TAGS: OPEN​

Ambition had always been part of the N&Z and by extension the House of Nargath, but over the past few months, the family had been striding from strength to strength, managing to become contributors to several major factions in the wider galaxy, and even when two of those factions stood on the brink of collission with one another, the N&Z had yet another faction in its sights as a potential market to be serviced and supplied. With every passing day, the N&Z Umbrella Corporation became more efficient and more capable than it had ever been before. There were some hiccups, but for now the company seemed to be on a track of absolute progress, absolute profit and more importantly: absolute growth, showing that Tertius' reforms and restructuring had been effective to say the least.

Still, here the Marquis of Valkan, the chairman of the board of directors was looking at a still empty parliament, holding his datapad in his hand as he looked over the empty grand hall, the seat of the president and the speaker visible in the distance. He could see how slowly the people started to filter in, for once the Marquis felt a hint of nervosity, something which was somewhat odd for him. After all, so far he had been staring into the barrel of blasters, at the pointy ends of vibroblades and even lightsabers, but to try and defend his proposal as given to the speaker of the corporate council. In a way, the marquis was fairly certain that as the main adressee of this proposal, the self-centered elements within the parliament would have a field day, not to mention that most likely those under the sway or in the purse of the Trade Federation would vehemently oppose the plan, despite the fact it does not encroach upon their industrial domain.

"Amalia, is the Confederacy expecting a full house today?" The marquis turned to his personal assistant, who dressed as some sort of military officer, always gave a much more stern and straightforward image than he himself would have given her. Yet Amalia was a rock he could lean on, a dependable workhorse in a cutthroat world of corporate intrigue and espionage.

"Looks like it will at least be a bussy one," It wasn't a direct answer to his question, but Tertius knew his assistant well enough to understand that she did mean it wouldn't be a slow day or a day with little hassle. The parliament of the Confederacy would probably show its 'lively' nature once again.

"Let's keep an eye on the preceedings," Nodding calmly to any who passed by him, the Marquis looked at the bullit points on his datapad again, rummaging through the messages he was getting in regards to the peacetalks on Bastion between the Diarchy and the Empire of the Lost. It hit the eriaduan noble that unlike the Sith, the Confederacy truly had no stake in that war, so maybe it might be useful to try and get a hold of the President himself later on for a meeting in regard to the situation near the mid rim. For now though, it was best for the Marquis to wait until the Parliament was finally declared open...

 

[Na-Nihilus Soth]

Na-Nihilus Soth
Sovereign-Class Assault Cruiser Fist of Yag'Dhul | In Orbit of Scarif
TAG: Open!
GEAR: Admiral's Tunic and Trousers, Type 59 Service Pistol

The Blockade Snaps Shut

​

"Admiral, you have put us in an impossible position!"

"The blockade is a temporary measure. Ground teams are already on route-"

"Not good enough!"

The blue hologram of the Scarif's trade minister slammed his fist onto what must have been his desk. When disturbing reports first filtered of a threat long thought exterminated, Soth wasted little time in taking appropriate measures to ensure the safety of the Confederacy. He was not entirely concerned by the threat of the disease that once threatened to consume Scarif, believing the reports of disturbance in the long abandoned bunker complex that housed the plague to be little more than the result of overreactive imaginations.

But mathematically, there was a chance the reports were true. That was enough for the Third Fleet to be dispatched to Scarif's orbit along with a sizeable military compliment.

"You forget yourself. We are here at your request and I have taken steps to ensure proper quarantine is enforced should the reports prove to be fact."

"But the suspension of all travel is a bit of an overreaction, the disruption of trade is a clear violation-"

"A violation that you may protest in Congressional session after the crisis is resolved. Do not interfere with army or naval operations and the blockade will end within three rotations at most."

"Three!-"

Soth terminated the hologram, sinking back into his command throne as he calmed himself.

"Politics. How tiresome."

Though surrounded by the bridge crew and a tactical droid, he was speaking to no one in particular. It was little more than a momentary bought of frustration before he returned to his duties. While it was true he did possess the authority to ensure plague did not spread off world, Soth could only get away with so much before Rothana would intervene. Should the threat be genuine, Confederate forces would have to move quickly to quell it. Should the plague spread off world, who knows how many systems might suffer before its spread can be halted, if it can be stopped at all. While the blockade was in place, all traffic attempting to enter or leave the system was effectively prevented, but that did not mean it was impossible to slip past the turbolasers of the capital ships.

“I want fighters on constant patrol duty, droid fighters, as well as organic, to be placed on high alert should any ship choose to bypass the blockade.”

“Yes, Admiral”

The replay came from TX-23, the tactical droid that ran bridge operations and the chief advisor of the Givin Admiral.

"Sir, should ground forces fail to contain the possible threat, what is our contingency?"

"We will employ the most drastic of measures. For the sake of the Confederacy, we must ensure that nothing escapes off-world."

While vague about what these drastic measures actually were, Soth was fully aware of what he might have to do. Orbital bombardment was a monstrous thing, to turn entire worlds into little more than superheated glass. But Soth was a Givin, a mathematical people by nature. When weighing the deaths on Scarif with the possible deaths that would come from a full-fledged outbreak, the choice to annihilate Scarif's surface was made far more simple. But that was only to be done should all other methods fail.

"For the time being, keep in contact with ground teams. Whatever they need, the navy shall provide."

 

[Judah Dashiell]

ROTHANA

Settling into his seat, Judah sighed, unbuttoning his suit jacket. Life had been busy - insanely so. He had no say in decision making but much like when he sat in on Senate proceedings, it was to report back to his company and the Corporate Interest Guild. A way to keep an eye on anything that could affect commerce.

Today it had a dual purpose ; a break.

Judah was looking forward to a long, boring, dull conversation about trade routes or the refugee crisis or supply chain disruptions. After the Hapan Wedding disaster he needed it. Poor Liin Terallo was probably the most traumatized out of the two of them - he had seen and experienced war before as a young man. A regular blood bath. Here he had been hoping for a networking event.

Settling back into his chair, he relaxed a little. He had been busy running his own company and overseeing his son's while the other was on paternity leave. Maybe he could get some relaxation in.

If everyone decided to behave and not start stabbing of course.

 

[Zesh Harko]

HARKO
New Lesu Airspace | Scarif
TAGS: Open
GEAR: Tactical Suit

LISTENING​

The low hum of thrusters and the rumble of turbulence filled the dimly lit cargo bay of a vanguard-class gunship as it streaked across the twilight Scarif sky. Hazy tones of pink and blue glinted across the horizon as daybreak approached. Harko couldn’t see it. There were no windows in the cargo bay. His eyes were closed. Breath steady. He had remained in a state of meditation since take off.

“Exiting New Lesu airspace. Approaching AO. Two minutes to drop off,” the captain’s voice crackled over the comms.

“Commencing internal depressurization,” the voice of an engineer responded on the frequency. “Equipment check.”

A helmeted Hellion PMC airman stepped across the cargo bay to where Harko was seated. He roughly checked the systems on the hover-ejector strapped to Harko’s back.

“Equipment: Green,” the airman spoke into the commlink before turning to Harko personally, “put on your helmet.”

Harko didn’t reply. He didn’t even look at the man. He simply lifted the helmet and placed it over his own head, pulling it down tight and pressing a button near his temple to activate the electronics. A heads-up display flashed to life inside the visor, showing readouts of temperature, distance, and orientation.

The airman walked back over to the other side of the bay where another airman was busy tapping on the screen of a datapad. They didn’t speak over the communication frequency but Harko’s helmet microphones picked up their conversation.

“Does this nerf herder know where he’s going?” the first airman asked.

“What’s up?” his crewmate replied.

“Who is this guy?”

“Beats me. CO said it was classified. Need-to-know only.”

“Some Trade Fed suit looking for thrills?”

“Does he look like a suit to you?”

“I guess not, but he’s unarmed. Situation on the ground is supposed to be hairy. Could be dangerous.”

“Since when do you ask so many questions? You trying to get demoted or something?”

Their conversation was interrupted by a light mounted above the cargo bay’s main loading ramp changing from green to a bright yellow.

“Depressurization complete,” the engineer spoke on comms.

“Thirty seconds to drop off. Opening rear hatch,” the captain’s voice responded. The yellow light in the bay changed to flashing red as the ramp’s pneumatic pistons hissed. The heavy metallic door groaned open allowing light to pour in along with roaring air and engine noise.

“Stand up,” the first airman ordered Harko, “you ready?” Harko nodded in confirmation and turned to face the opening when the airman grabbed his arm.

“Wait,” he pulled his sidearm from its holster and handed it to Harko, “don’t get yourself killed down there.”

Harko’s helmeted face nodded again. He tucked the blaster pistol into the back of his beltline underneath his long black jacket. The coat tails fluttered in the rushing wind as he stepped out onto the extended ramp.

“Ten seconds to drop off. Stand by,” the captain’s voice came through inside Harko’s helmet. He stepped further down the ramp, he could feel the heat from the ship’s thrusters. He struggled to keep his footing as hard gusts of air fought to throw him off.

“Status: Green,” the airman’s voice responded.

“Prepare for dropoff. Countdown,” the captain continued, “five…four…three…two…one. Dropoff.” Harko took a final step and leapt from the ramp. He spread his arms out to the sides and felt a moment of weightlessness before gravity took hold.

Digits indicating his altitude rapidly changed on his HUD as he descended at free fall speed. The helmet’s sonic suppressor blocked most of the noise but he could still hear the faint hissing of wind. The air pressure against his body was intense.

He looked out to see the first sliver of yellow sunlight peaking over the horizon, casting a shimmer across the cerulean tropical sea. Long shadows of towering palm trees fell softly on the beach. It was breathtaking.

He flattened his body to slow his descent before throwing his feet forward to go upright and activating his hover-ejector pack. Two compact cylindrical repulsors on thick metallic arms sprang out to his sides. The lift cluster inside the cones hummed loudly as they fought against the downward momentum. His speed slowed as he neared the surface. The power of the repulsors flattened the blades of grass beneath him until his feet touched down.

Harko unstrapped himself. He tapped the pistol on his waist, checking it hadn’t come loose; silently thanking the airman for his generosity. Harko hadn’t intended on seeing combat. He had only planned to conduct up-close reconnaissance, following up on reports from the first intel team, but there was no telling what lied in wait.

From this point he would be on foot, traveling overland to reach the threat center. He pulled a hand-sized magnetic patch from his pocket and placed it on the black armor plate extending over his right shoulder. The violet hex symbol of the Confederacy. An indicator to CAF personnel that he was a friendly. Harko clicked a button on the side of his helmet to activate the field recorder and an open communication line to anyone on encrypted Confederate channels.

“This is Harko. Commencing Mission.”​

 

[Sentapoth Findos]

/:/ Tag: Vemric Keldra Judah Dashiell Tertius C. Nargath

Sentapoth traversed the corridor with a somber and heavy demeanor, contemplating the profound fear and paranoia that had engulfed him on the day of the Hapan Royal Wedding which had later been proven to be correct as the ceremony had been turned on its head by the arrival of the Crimson Veil, a terrorist organization who struck a terrible blow on the Hapan Monarchy by killing the Crown Prince and his bride at the altar in cold-blood.

It was not only the Hapans who had suffered a great injustice but the Galactic Alliance, where a Rear Admiral had also been struck down, causing much panic throughout the system and beyond even to the isolated regions of the Confederacy.

Even his own world of Abrion Major was impacted, with the local government pressuring him to protect their grain and agricultural shipments from the economic fallout.

He could have refused on the grounds that it was really the Trade Federation who was in charge of the planet, as a way to have a vote in the Parliament beyond the collective one of the Corporate Council. But political power was best used in a subtle manner and so the matter was dropped before it could spiral out of control.

He arrived promptly into the chamber, accompanied by a small army of Neimoidian Royal Guard and Neimoidian Home Defense Legion for personal protection after the wedding's security failures.

He was personally here to sink the proposal from the N&Z Umbrella Corporation and its Chairman Tertius C. Nargath , a thorn in the side of the Federation since the fallen upstart had declared themselves rivals with the successors of Gat Tambor's legacy.

 

[Tyrias Aran]

Outskirts of Camp Phoenix, Scarif
Tag: Na-Nihilus Soth | Zesh Harko

​

Scarlet eyes turned skyward as the turbulent wake of a nearby dropship shuddered across the land.

"Daveth, status." The clip, chill voice clashed with the scenery so many basked in on Scarif.

Behind the figure that stood upon a rocky outcropping sat a field base with numerous figures bustling to and fro according to their duty schedules. Tents served as shelter for those taking rest with the largest structures housing supplies and serving as the company's mess. Broad, clear paths cut their way across the camp in all directions allowing for mobility and visibility for defense. It was far from their first time pitching camp.

A Mirialan lifted their dark violet eyes. "Camp is operational. Teams Bravo, Charlies, and Delta are acquiring position around the perimeter." With a slight shake of their head, they added, "Admiral Soth delivered a heavy ultimatum to the locals."

Glowing red eyes narrowed a hair. If it hadn't been necessary to stop the self-destruct in order for the last team to escape... she should have let it go up in a pyre. Though if she were being honest, the thought of destroying what was left had also stayed her hand. If it became necessary, this time, Luna wouldn't fault her since it would save the planet. That was what Dauntless had always done in the past. Whatever it took.

"Recon's entered the threater." Daveth's lips twisted as she regarded the screen in her hands. "Alone."

No point mentioning she'd only seen one body leaping out of the dropship earlier. They were alone. "Take over command of Camp."

"Admiral," consternation tightened their throat at the unspoken intent. Whether everyone in the Confederacy recognized the Chiss' rank was still up for debate, but given the Station's time together 'elsewhere' they didn't much care what others thought. They'd fought, bleed, and survived together.

At last Tyrias pivoted halfway around to look back at her Second. "I'm still the only one that knows the inside of that base, with access codes that work. Besides, I trust you," Tyrias quipped as she started down the inclined and gave her a pat on the shoulder in passing, "setting up the defenses at the choke point to contain any breakout." With a smirk, she resumed her descent toward base. There'd be some supplies she'd need for the trek.

"Harko, Aran, automatic defenses didn't fire at survey droids, but step lightly on approach. Camp Phoenix is a fortress." Would Harko need any information she possessed? Perhaps not. Perhaps he had no intent of opening a single door or accessing a single computer. It was probably just another excuse. Tyrias couldn't help but get involved whenever Camp Phoenix was brought up. It'd been a pivtol point in her life and career. It was a ghost from her past, but it was her ghost.

Geared up, the Chiss commander paced her quick movements across the landscape. She might not be as young as the first day she'd set foot on Scarif, but Tyrias hadn't let command soften her either. It was inefficient to become entirely dependent on your subordinates when you already possessed certain skills.

​

 

[Brakkus]

"Politics is too serious a matter to be left to the politicians."​

Politics. Often dull, yet undeniably vital.

Despite holding a seat on the Corporate Council, Brakkus rarely found himself in the Congressional Chambers. There had been past parliamentary meetings where his attendance was expected, but his official response was always the same: "Predisposed on the other side of the Galaxy." In truth, he simply harbored a disdain for the monotonous theater of politics. Still, his advisors had insisted he attend this particular session to reinforce his commitment to the Confederacy and its proceedings—a necessary evil, they'd argued.

The details of the bill being discussed were sparse, though it was well known that Tertius C. Nargath of the N&Z Umbrella Corporation was its sponsor. That, in itself, had been reason enough for Brakkus to attend. The Ando Mining Collective had recently struck a lucrative supply deal with N&Z, and both companies stood to profit handsomely. Tertius had even floated the idea of a merger, an enticing but uncertain prospect. Supporting Tertius in Parliament, at the very least, seemed a prudent move to strengthen their budding partnership.

Brakkus entered from the far side of the hall, his strides purposeful and unhurried, his broad Ualaq frame commanding attention without effort. For once, he had elected not to bring his protocol droid, a choice that spared him the nuisance of being slowed down. His sharp eyes scanned the chamber, quickly spotting Tertius across the room preparing for the assembly's commencement. If Tertius happened to glance his way, Brakkus would offer the briefest of nods, a subtle acknowledgment to his business associate. He wished him luck, though he knew the sentiment wouldn't carry across the distance.

As Brakkus approached his seat, he noticed another familiar figure already in place— Judah Dashiell , a fellow member of the Corporate Council. Though the two had yet to speak one-on-one, they had shared enough council meetings to forgo the need for formal introductions.

"Mr. Dashiell," Brakkus greeted with a tone that balanced professionalism and faint cordiality, "it's good to see you. I believe I'm seated next to you—if you don't mind."

The statement wasn't so much a question as a courtesy. With his imposing stature, Brakkus' presence in the adjacent seat was less a matter of permission and more an inevitability. His large frame soon settled into the chair beside Judah.

​

 

[Tamna Korvan]

F O X
CAMP PHOENIX | SCARIF
TAG: Zesh Harko | Tyrias Aran | Na-Nihilus Soth

APOCALYPSE​

"Look, all I'm saying is that I think GalacMed had something to do with it."

Weller and Shaddix were arguing about some theory pertaining to a virus released from this encampment a few years ago.
"I still don't understand how you can make that call, Wells." said Shaddix.
"Come on, man. You saw how sweaty some of those white-cloaks were around that time. And the boss was mighty fast in deploying us to help the Mandalorians combat it. That happened the moment this planet went dark. Pretty fast deployment, innit?"
"I guess. But there's no proof of it."
"Jeez, man. It's Braxton Holst ! You really think the man would leave anything to trace back to him?"
"He's got a point, Shads." Tamna spoke up from where she'd been listening while they all bounced toward the bunker in the transport.

Both men blinked at her.
"Never thought I'd see the day Fox agrees with me." Weller finally said.
"You wound me, Tams." Shaddix said, dramatically grabbing his heart.
Tamna scoffed. "You two are still idiots. But what he says makes sense."
"Yeah, maybe. I only get paid to shoot shit and somehow command you lot."
"The fact that you think you command us, is cute, Shads." Lyra, their Devaronian demolition expert, said sweetly.
Shaddix' face squidged to one side as he pouted. "Get your helmets on, you fools. I think we're almost there."

“This is Harko. Commencing Mission.”

"Ah, Intelligence is already there." Shaddix said as the transport approached the derelict underground Fortress. <Copy that, Harko. Patrol of Armed Forces about to follow and enter. Out.> he then commed through to the Intelligence Officer.

Just as the transport stopped at the bunker perimeter, the patrol was on the ground, rifles against shoulders as their black visors scanned the area. It was deathly quiet for a minute. Then...
"I got movement!" Lyra's voice pierced the area as her rifle pointed in the direction of some approaching figures.
"Wait, no Lyra! They're friendlies!" Tamna warned, holding up her hand to stop the Devaronian. She had felt the Force-Sensitivity of one of the figures and there was no malice aside from a superiority complex.
"Hail!" Shaddix called to Tyrias Aran . "Patrol identification! We are 2nd Patrol, Mogu Company!"

They waited for the group to catch up, exchange some pleasantries, and then headed toward the entrance where they would hopefully find Harko before attempting a breach into this unholy derelict while Admiral Na-Nihilus Soth watches over them.

 

[Zesh Harko]

HARKO
Camp Phoenix | Scarif
TAGS: Tyrias Aran | Tamna Korvan | Na-Nihilus Soth
GEAR: Tactical Suit | Helmet

LISTENING​

"Harko, Aran, automatic defenses didn't fire at survey droids, but step lightly on approach. Camp Phoenix is a fortress."

“Copy that, Admiral.”

He recalled seeing Aran’s name on some of the mission briefing docs. Her intel provided numerous details about the layout of the underground sections of the base, along with a first-hand account of the outbreak that had occurred there. Scary stuff but years had passed. Harko considered that the reports of strange noises were due to the base deteriorating. The unnerving echoes deep in the bunker might have reignited the memories of old nightmares in the locals. Phantoms, nothing more.

Within view of the complex Harko activated his macrobinoculars. Even from a distance he could make out small details. Camp Phoenix was indeed a fortress. One that was far past its prime. The towering duracrete facades were beaten raw by years of tropical salt spray. Metallic structure boxes and a large hanger bay built into the cliffside were streaked with rust. A waterfall spilled over the cliff’s edge, running down into a canal built through the camp’s superstructure leading back out into the sea. Despite its condition, it was still an amazing sight. Remnants of a predecessor Confederacy. Harko wondered if the fortress would be true to its namesake and one day return to its former glory.

From his vantage point, Harko scanned the interior, carefully marking each of the visible automated defense emplacements and relaying the data back to mission control. There were only a few possible routes of entry into the base. Harko moved carefully up along a duracrete buttress built into the cliffside until he was able to drop down and make his way onto the tarmac of the landing area. After a scan, he transmitted another data packet to control, indicating that the LZ was clear.

<Copy that, Harko. Patrol of Armed Forces about to follow and enter. Out.>

He moved across the base to where his map indicated the elevators were housed. Harko brushed a layer of mold off of the elevator keypad. The system still had power but the red flashes that reacted to his keystrokes indicated it was locked down.

Everything was quiet. All he could hear were the lapping of waves and the distant calls of sea birds. No nightmarish groans or screams. Whatever they were here to find, if anything, it wasn't on the surface. They needed to go under. Suddenly a new sound, closing in on him. Boots on stone. He ducked behind a stack of abandoned cargo crates. Taking a deep breath, he willed the force to cloak him as he peaked out to see who it was.

A tall Chiss woman in Confederate gear strode with purpose toward his position. From the distance he could barely make out her face. Admiral Aran? His view was shaken when a new sound broke the air. The engines of a transport craft coming in fast. It had barely lowered to the ground before a fireteam of armored Hellion mercs leapt out, blasters at the ready. He watched as they greeted the Admiral before joining her on the way over to him.

Breaking his force cloak, Harko stepped out into the open. He held up his hands to indicate that he was friendly.

“It appears power is still running but the entrance is sealed. Does anyone have the access code or a way to slice past the lock down protocol?”

​

 

[Tyrias Aran]

Outskirts of Camp Phoenix, Scarif
Tag: Na-Nihilus Soth | Zesh Harko | Tamna Korvan

​

Tyrias loped onto the scene with her rifle cradled against her chest in both hands. The Chiss' bright gaze shifted from the Devaronian to the one that had stayed his finger. Wasn't much point looking down on this patrol unit. After all, this Confederacy's primary military force might as well be considered made up of mercenaries given its origin. Loyalty, duty, and honor were traits only time would bear out... or not.

A small smile touched her lips as she drew near the recent arrivals. "Tyrias Aran, Perimeter Commander." She turned to look across the top of the Camp. "Whatever's here isn't getting out. How should I address you?" Mogu Company was fine for a group order, but presumably Shaddix wasn't handing over direct control of his company's members so it'd be nice to establish some kind of personal connection. Even if it was just name and rank.

"Let's catch up with the ambitious scout before they have all the fun."

She turned to stride over to where Zesh stood in observance; a feat made easier once he dropped the cloak.

"My access code will still work." There was no one left to change them. Tyrias stepped up to the controls, but turned to look back at those assembled before she reached for it. "You should take up positions in case anything is waiting on the other side." Just another day at the haunted Camp grounds.

Soon after, a few quick taps were followed by nothing happening. Tyrias' eyes narrowed a hair as she punch it in again, and again nothing. An exhale preceded the Chiss using the butt of the rifle to knock a panel off beneath the control console. She crouched down and peered up inside the cavity. "Corrosion." Exposure and time had finally taken their toll.

Gloved fingers reached down to her belt to retrieve a small canister. A connector was popped loose and given a spray with Tyrias rubbing the chemical against the metal contacts. Another spirtz was sent up into the cavity itself at the terminal. With the cable replaced, she straightened up once more.

"One more time." This time should have the door admit the brave explorers.

​