Log:Mandalorians: In Plain Sight

Mandalorians: In Plain Sight

OOC Date: December 9, 2021
Location: Fondor
Participants: Hahtavi Kora, Valeska Jaivon, Dailo Fett and Hadrix Kora as GM Clan Kora

On the ground and outside of the beskar'gam they're used to, Mandalorians walk in other skins.

<<"Don't fully mute the other lines - keep them low and listen; it can be overwhelming, but we need to be mindful of the circuits. As far as they know, we're one of them... thanks to a friend of mine.">> Hadrix's voice on the special commline, the link installed in helmets to keep them from Order rotation, with subvocals taped to throats below the throats of Dailo in officer garb, an earpieces, barely a bead, to tuck in as well.

The transport shuttle, operated by a TIE pilot nears the landing bay for the section of the Fondor Yards they are set to arrive on. <<"We have no names in the armor. You have your operator number, and do not forget to tag Ef Es before it. If you don't it's a dead giveaway.">> No body language from the big man in his own suit, and his accent is thinned, almost gone, despite the private comms, <<"Dailo is to be referred to only as Lieutenant by us. She is not Yut Vanna, but she can be Lieutenant Vanna in front of another officer if we need. Only exception.">> the growl is in his voice for a moment, but gone at the tail end.

And then there is the hiss of landing struts extending and the drop-door lowering slowly until it's a simple ramp to allow them into the stark whites and grays of the landing bay.

<<"Resource Bay Jenth-Jenth 22... We're your security detail, Lieutenant.">> the big man is up and making to fall in and follow Dailo's lead.

Gross. This feels gross. There's no other way to describe it. For Valeska, she'd rather be running around stark naked than wearing Stormtrooper armour. It goes against every fiber of her being, making her skin crawl and fixing a permanent grimace to her face.

Thankfully no one can see it and it does add a certain, useful edge to her voice when and if she talks. Clipped and monotoned. Makes for the perfect voice for FS-23578.

If mom and dad could see her now, they might have quite the aneurysm.

A private smirk to herself under the helmet. That could be amusing.

Mission first. Horrify the parental units with stories later. Maybe. With a nod, Valeska rises to her feet and follows obediently in line with Hadrix. Dailo is the officer now and she's all fine with that.

"Form your squad up, Sergeant," Dailo Fett says in a convincing Imperial accent that's both posh and well pronounced. Dailo has the stature of an officer, and having formerly served as Lady Commander of the Empress of Arisnar's Royal Guard, posing as military comes easy for her. Their standards and protocols were fairly similar, but the accents were different. Dailo, natively, had an Arisnar accent, so bluffing this one was a true feat.

Her uniform fit snug, leaving little to the imagination regarding her thin frame and feminine shape. She stood with stern posture, and even had pretentious gloves on, which she pulled tight to test the tension in knuckles.

Taking charge, Dailo stepped off with an air of authority, keeping respectable distance from the troopers to give the Sergeant room to command his team.

The armor is a snug fit. Hahtavi's a little tall for it. Before he puts the bucket on, his scarred face turns to eye Hadrix and is probably wondering how the even larger man possibly fit himself into the First Order trooper armor. Instead of asking, Haht puts on the bucket and stands there a long moment figuring out the controls and how the HUD works. It's not that different from his beskar'gam's bucket, but it's a little different. He stands quietly listening to the channels and lowers the volume so he can hear Hadrix's briefing and orders clearly. <<"FS-12500 copies.">> The vocoder makes Hahtavi's baritone come out sounding a little different. Probably a good thing to help mask his Mandalorian lilt.

His Galaar now cosmetically modified to look like a F-11D, is double checked. A gloved hand that makes him look like he's not actually missing a finger, feels at his utility belt to familarize himself with where the various things are located, especially his rifle's power cells.

First one leg then the other lifted as high as he can, Hahtavi flexes and feels the constraints of this armor's movement. Feels very alien to him. A nod to Dalo, <<"Lieutenant.">> Got it. Everything about this makes his skin crawl a bit, but once things start, Hahtavi's mind will be too sharply focused on what's going on around him to bother with discomforts.

One of the benefits of First Order armor - it's designed for more than a 'standard' height and is adjustable for height and breadth with a little work with the straps and catches. Home is a good way to put it, completely at home. Every one of Hadrix's measured steps are perfection, a testament to the brutal work the creches do of creating their soldiers. There's no act there, no attempt to fit in. Likely if the HUDs of the suits didn't identify the group to one another by floating operator number indictors hovering at each's shoulders when they look he could become lost in a patrol of troopers in a matter of a mistimed blink.

At Dailo's command, Hadrix is speaking on the private link as he makes a set of hand gestures, <<"Form up, you two side by side, two hand-breadths apart. Follow my march pattern.">> nothing said out loud, but all that following a curt nod to the officer in charge. The set out path easy to follow, clearly marked - with black uniformed officers and paired lines of troopers moving on their patrol patterns.

None seem to pay mind. Not the dish headed BB units or the boxy MSE maintenance droids keeping tightly out from under foot. But it's orderly, neat, everything in its place and everything with its purpose.

Cold is an apt term.

When they reach one of the hatches leading into the main facility corridors, an Order army figure in Private rank markings, standing behind a control kiosk wall looks to the approaching group.

"Orders and purpose?"

"Compliance inspection, Private. We need authorization for resource bay Jenth-Jenth Two-Two for myself, and my security escort." Dailo has a neutral and cold expression when addressing the private behind the security desk. It's a mix of not having time to speak with a private and being a pretentious officer. Dailo's stare bores into the service member, an air of impatience manifesting, butting up against the nature of protocol and procedure.

The helmet of FS-23578 turns to regard the Sargeant with a nod. Whether she can be heard outside of their private communications, Valeska isn't taking much of a chance. Not trusting her own ability to mask what is so painfully a Dantooine accent. <"Copy."> One word. That's safe enough, right? Only two syllabels that she tries to say as abruptly as possible.

This is followed by an immediate following of directions. Having never made it past Basic Training before getting kicked out, Valeska's time with the Mandalorians have provided her with enough knowledge of Hadrix's commands to do what he says. Mimicing how the others hold their rifles, she keeps her eyes forward and her ears open to the chitter and chatter in the background of the frequency.

And chatter it certainly is. A lot of reporting in. Reporting out. Squad positions. Transport movements and so many numbers. So many numbers.

With Hadrix's direction, a few adjustments and his armor fits better. Appreciated. Then he's falling into step with Valeska. Two hand-breadth's apart as ordered. Attention is paid to the cadence their 'Sergeant' sets as they move out. Hahtavi makes to time his steps until their boot steps are moving in unison.

Rifle in hand like the others, FS-12500 walks beside FS-23578, following their Sergeant.

When they stop, FS-12500 stops and waits in silence. No figiting, back straight. Unseen behind his bucket, Hahtavi's eyes search his HUD carefully to take in details all around them, listening.

The private blinks, looking down at one of his screens and then back towards Dailo with a fractional narrowing at the corners of his eyes, lower lip sticking out -just- a hair when he has his gaze back on the woman in officer's garb before him. With a precisely raised brow, the young man gives a sniff.

"Jenth Jenth Two-Two..." eyes on the troopers and then back to the officer, his expression flattening back out before he speaks again. "Identify." a cursory study of her uniform, "Lieutenant. I have no record of a compliance inspection on the docket. What's the meaning of this?"

"That would be the meaning behind a compliance inspection, private. They are unscheduled. Now get the authorization and code cylinder in order, or inform your Commander that this unit will be sanctioned for failure to adhere to military code and compliance." Dailo says, her tone turning cooler and sharper, returning his stare with a glare of her own. Fett's jawline tensed, and the tension in her leather gloves began to 'tck-tck-tck' when she made her hands form a firm fist.

The march-step stops at the control kiosk with one uppity private with a pair of brass ones, to be sure. For her role, FS-23578 is maintaining her own air of stiff and ready obidience. She is security detail and hazel eyes are trying to stare the Private down through her visor. Of course, that is ridiculous on the face of it. He can't see that piercing glare. But he can read body language, surely. And hers is that of a trooper who would be more than happy for a little action-in-duty to come her way.

FS-12500 doesn't say anything, doesn't do anything. He waits while the Lieutenant sorts it out with the Private, or not. He stays alert and awaits orders, watching the bay while his companion stares at the kiosk. Security Detail he understands.

The glare stops dead and a waxy pallor takes the young man's features. A brief wetting of his lips and he is looking down to tap something into the kiosk controls, a thin tube popping up with a hiss to be lifted and crisply placed in Dailo's hands in short order.

"In order, Lieutenant. Welcome to Fondor Shipyards." the hatchway snapping open and the MP coming to attention, "You are authorized to the section and the paths to it. Please contact if you seek to deviate course." audibly fighting stumbling over the recitation as required.

Passage through is simple enough following. The corridors old, ancient even. Dating back to centuries before the fall of the Republic. But there is a sense of order to it that screams influence from figures that would one day be put into power at the hands of one master manipulator.

Chatter on the command and report lines has a momentary shift as the quartet disappear into the bowels of the massive station - moving among more Stormtroopers on patrol, and a pair of officers slipping into the corridor from one of the side passages, one fixated on a datapad.

Dailo doesn't say thank you when she accepts the cylinder. It's tucked into the authorized spot on her uniform, and she nods. "Good day." It's all she offers before motioning lazily to Sgt. Hadrix that it's time to move. She falls in step, walking with the sense of underlying urgency, but tapered with a bit of discipline and situational awareness.

with Hahtavi who is in line with Hadrix who is in line with Dailo. Maker, help her. She never would have survived this life. It's all so clean and orderly and stiff-backed. Recitations and funny hats.

The hand cradling the barrel tightens ever so slightly. Not enough to creak the leather gloves but dangerously close to it. She notices the two officers up ahead and the immediately pretends that she didn't. Her task is Hadrix and his task is Dailo. Focus.

Walking beside Valeksa, behind the Sergeant who's behind the Looy, Hahtavi's trying to check out the two officers who step out ahead of them. As the draw nearer, he cants his helmet ever so subtly, trying to get a glimpse of the datapad's contents. But alas, the angle is not good and these helmet optics aren't what he's used to using. FS-12500 continues to walk in step to the cadence their Sergeant sets for them as they proceed. Quietly he listens to the channel chatter shifting, trying to keep track of it even as his eyes are roving. So far, so good.

Gods help them if the shavit hits the fan on this op. Instinctively he's noting possible exits, weapons emplacements, places they could take cover. That's habit.

Dailo in the lead and Hadrix walking at drogue escort just behind and to one side with the others marching behind, down passages that narrow momentarily before spreading out to become parts of branching hub corridors. The trooper numbers aren't vast, but there's typically a pair or quartet moving through an area at any given time.

Passages remain in clear and the sought after sector is shown as closer per direction signage.

Only one other thing is as constant as the dwindling numbers to the section that is barely five hundred meters from the landing bay. A pair of black clad officers. A different pair. The originally having disappeared down an interior corridor, replaced twenty meters later by another - the pair walking behind the escort detail for the Lieutenant, stopping to check a wall panel and tap in something when the group reach the entry to the sub-section and their goal.

Officers were like bumblebees, if you minded your own business and yielded to them, they went about their merry way. Dailo Fett did exactly that. She slides the code cylinder into place, twists it, and triggers the hatch to open. "Sergeant, begin the inspection." Dailo initiates the cylinder eject and follows the squad inside, ensuring the hatch closes behind them. Business time.

<"I think we're being followed."> Valeska tests out the security of their private communications with that sentence, but the pair of black-clad bumblebess cannot be ignored by her. <"Or at least watched."> Maybe that is the paranoia talking, though. Valeska is careful to sloooowly turn her head this way and that; keeping their surrounding in her vision.

But she's also trying to peep the dark-clothed pair. But to her, they just look like a couple of stuffy First Order kriffers. No useful information gleamed.

Unfortunately, Hahtavi is no wiser than Valeska. He studies what he may of the officers as they trade off pairs, using his helmet's HUD systems so he doesn't even have to turn his head in their direction to be watching them. Not that it does him any good.

She voices her concern and he steps through the hatch when the Lieutenant leads the way for them to go in and close the hatch behind them. <<"Possible.">> Alas, nothing to add to that. Hahtavi stays as alert as he can but he's way out of his element here. As soon as they are where Dailo's brought them, he's looking around to see if the items they've come for are indeed here.

<<"Officers are tailing us. Your call how we handle it, Lieutenant.">>

Hadrix comments quietly on the private channel as he goes to his duties per Dailo's orders, looking to the others now, <<"Put the bead markers in your belts on crates marked as Armor Foundation or Duranium Plating. Tuck them behind the cargo container access panels, top right corner is typically the best for sticking things.">> the big man remains by the hatch, looking towards it while setting up in a guard posture.

<<"Make sure the marking beads are secure. It's essential to what's next.">>

Outside the hatch there's sounds of general movement. Within the cargo holding zone there is the hiss of MSE wheels along the floor. The hum of a service droid and the heavy CLUD of Binary Load Lifter feet as it moves to its own duties. Shifting massive crates where they need to be.

Hard to imagine this a section of a station... it looks like an industrial warehouse one might see on a city planet.

"Look for another exit, maybe can throw them off our trail by leaving here in short order." Dailo says in her Imperial accent. Like the rest of the troops with her, she begins to mark the appropriate crates where Hadrix said to mark them, but she is not good at concealing them, and something is wrong with the beads she's using. "I.. have an issue here, mine aren't staying in place.." She grumbles. Instinct makes her want to smash the god damned thing against it and call it a day, but they couldn't be Mandos here.

<"Affirmative."> Oh, grand. It isn't paranoia. They /are/ being followed. Well, it could be paranoia, too. Healthy, life-saving paranoia.

Valeska goes about inspecting the crates and marking the ones as stealthily as she can. Stick stick boom. Wait, no boom. Just stick stick stick. Noticing Dailo]s struggle, Valeska literally marches over all stiff-as-you-please. "Lieutenant." A very slight nod and she "inspects" the crate more thoroughly; placing another bead in the spot indicated as well as perhaps the crate before it.

Yeah, not a warm and fuzzy feeling to know that something about them has already got them being watched. Hahtavi pretends to be doing the inspection he's ordered to do, checking seals, checking crates against the manifest, whatever. As he locates the things they have come for, he carefully conceals the beads as he's been shown to do. Those he sets into place seem to be decently concealed but whether it'll be good enough, they'll have to wait and see.

FS-12500 moves on from one crate to the next, movements efficient. He keeps tabs on how the others are doing and notes Valeska helping Dailo when the 'Lieutenant' has issues getting her beads to stay in place.

The further along he moves, the more Hahtavi is being watchful in general. Even the droids could be spying on them, relaying optics. <<"This isn't the most fun I've had all year. I hope we have a back up plan if things go to dush, ret'lini.">>

<<"Two possible exits, we'll need to route back to the original corridor quick. We'll stick out if we deviate too long.">> Hadrix rumbles, tapping in several commands to the console for the hatch they had come in through. Tapping a little more firmly on a third set of codes but shaking his head when a negatory beep comes.

<<"Hope you can haughty officer our way through too...">> moving to clear a passage hatch next, standing to, to give the visual of everything situation normal...

The crates are numerous, but the joint effort is enough to get them sorted, beaded, noted. It's going off well, at least, and there hasn't been more than suspicious officers tailing. A good idea of what those might be running through the head of the former Stormtrooper. <<"Otherwise we're going to be doing a lot of running, more shooting... possibly expiring.">> dead serious.

An MSE droid pauses and 'looks' up at Hahtavi then, squeaking at him fussily.

Valeska is regarded by Dailo Fett the moment the trooper said Lieutenant. It's a studying look that transforms to thankful, and she nods in gratitude before stepping away to join the Sergeant. While walking, Dailo uses her blank datapad to take pictures of random things she knows to be topics in logistics inspections. When finished, she powers the thing to standby and places it on her belt.

"Sergeant, have the squad form up and follow me."

She sticks the code cylinder back into the slot and twists, triggering the hatch to open and reveal a second way out. Dailo swallows any doubt and puts on a confident air, her face returning to its neutral look and cold stare.

When they make it down the corridor, Dailo is intercepted by a Lt. Commander, to which she responds by calling the squad to attention before she issues her salute whilst marching past. "Good day, Commander."

If stopped and asked to explain their inspection, Dailo produces the datapad with pictures, stating that there were no 'findings' and two best practices regarding logistics storage protocol; a commendable inspection indeed. Enough to preen about, at least.

<"Would rather not expire here."> Their tasks completed, FS-23578 returns to her formation at the back of the line with Hahtavi. It's a mission fairly straight forward so far. Follow orders. Tag the appropriate crates. Keep your mouth shut. Three simple bulletpoints that a trained wamprat could do.

But it's not enough for her. Those two officers have set off a few alarms in her head and Valeska's head ticks a few degrees as she follows behind; stopping quickly enough to salute a Lt. Commander and stand at the ready until called to move again.

<"Guy has his hackles up,"> Valeska says quielty to the team in regards to the Lt. Commander in the confines of her helmet.

The droid fussing at him is carefully side stepped once he's finished with that last crate. Hahtavi's knowledge of binary is still pretty pathetic so he doesn't know what it's fussing at him about, though Val might know if he'd asked her. Instead, he heads for the other exit as directed. Stormtroopers do what they are told to do.

Back out, he turns but takes his 'security detail' duties seriously. A good look around and then he's walking - but also studying one of the officers he sees and the two stormtroopers with them.

Over their private coms, Hahtavi speaks up, <<"The Lieutenant Commander has a small planet symbol on his uniform. Kind of looks like a cannon... and the two troopers have gorget's marked with Aurabesh letters Aurek-Osk. That mean anything to any of you?">> Clearly he's no expert on First Order stuff. Not at all.

FS-12500 otherwise tries to keep in stride with Valeska-trooper. Haht trusts their Al'Verde to know this osik. He hears Val, keeps moving, hands on his rifle and as ready as he can be without doing anything rash - yet.

The stiff formality of the Lieutenant and the Sergeant is enough that they could probably press coal into diamonds if they had a mind to it, the big man coming to attention while holding to Order Trooper guard protocol - no salute, as that would require taking a hand from his weapon. But his crisp low-ready posture seems the appropriate considering the other Stormtroopers do the same.

"Good Day, Lieutenant. Excellent to see things appear in order." preen indeed. A clean bill for his surprise inspection reports. Perhaps a little extra leave time on the planet - and a clear path cleaved by Dailo. Hahtavi's question getting a murmured,

<<"Aurek-Osk made me...">> the pin? Maybe he doesn't know, maybe there's too much distraction. But the big man is silent unless he absolutely needs to speak while Fett's maneuvering is able to get them back to the hangar where the curt attention of the Private is seen again.

"All in order then... Lieutenant?" respectful, if edging on the borders of frosty. The transport craft is in sight, where an old man in fitted TIE pilot garb waits, muttering to himself about the wrong kind of armor. But the ramp is down and the engines are warm, the cool dark of the landing craft like open arms.

"Yes. I spoke with your Commander. Inspection is concluded, be sure to mark it on your log. Here. The code cylinder." Dailo is all business, not caring about the Private's tone or demeanor. She gives the code cylinder back to the Private and waits for him to log the instance of the inspection before motioning lazily to her Sergeant to lead the squad on.

Dailo Fett falls back into place, walking in the same air of confidence.

Valeska is quick to make her salute go quickly; hand back to her rifle noticing Hadrix not doing it. Maybe Sargeants don't have to. Either way, Valeska acts about as naturally as she can in the most unnatural armour she has ever, ever been in.

Walk walk walk. Just get to the ship. Hadrix's short reply to Hahtavi is not lost on her; the factoid stowed away with so many others but not commented to. She says nothing to the Private. Doesn't even look in his direction as they walk on by.

Thank goodness Dailo's playing the officer and doing a very damn fine job of it, and not Hatavi. He stands smartly at attention when they've stopped, rifle in hand in the same low ready position as the others. Just another white-job here, easy to ignore. When they are ready to go, he turns crisply and moves to follow with the same precicion of cadence as he's able to manage. Easy to do really, as long as you are paying some attention to it. No hurrying. Hadrix's comment was noted but not commented upon. Like Val, he ignores the Private. Security's attention is for security matters and keeping a watchful eye for his responsibility of keeping the Lieutenant 'Vanna' safe.

His boots take him back towards the ship. Just waiting for someone to order them to stop even as he keeps walking.

The Private watches and as soon as Dailo and the Trooper's backs are firmly towards him the expression had would suggest that someone had found that perfect, absolutely prime, rogue turd. Cared after it's transit, attended to issues of humidity and pressure. Hefting it all those long miles and kilometers so that in that, single, moment... it could be placed beneath the young man's nose and a small fan carefully wafts the aroma to his nostrils.

So pungent.

So disliked.

But the transport buttons up and is off, back to Fondor, and the next steps.