Dr. Corinna Magarin vs. Garret Thorne

Underneath the surface of Daleem is a complex and extensive planet-wide interconnected tunnel system. These tunnels connect to various ancient ruins from a multitude of long dead civilizations; some even run beneath the planet’s shallow oceans. While openings to the tunnels are a rare find, it is almost a guarantee that somewhere within each surface ruin site is a way to enter the tunnels, usually through an ancient, protected hatch or a prior cave-in.

The tunnels are decidedly sentient-made and look to be in relative repair with a few exceptions. Of note, water has found its way into some sections that are under the shallow oceans, droplets dripping onto the floor and trickling down the walls. Curiously, these small pools stay relatively small even though no obvious escape route exists, causing many to believe that animals have found their way into the underground passage as well. Some travellers have even heard the skittering insects from the darker recesses of the tunnels. In addition, acrid smoke wafts and weaves through the chambers. Though harmless, the overpowering stench irritates the noses of those forced to pass through without respiratory protection.

Several data screens hang from the walls, displaying cryptic information from some unknown system. Hexagonal in shape, the long corridors are broken up by smaller indentations that appear to be blast door housings. Various conduits hang down from broken panels, and occasionally crackle and spark with electricity. At the end of each section of tunnel, between each 'door', lies a circular portal covered with hardened duraplate. Whatever lies beyond them is a mystery that has yet to be solved.

The smell hit her first.

Corinna Magarin had endured a great many unpleasant odors in the course of her career: brimstone and volcanic soil, corpses decomposing in temple ruins, even a rival researcher who passive-aggressively stopped showering once on a dig. But the smoke now wafting through the corridor had a certain pungency she found at once new and unpleasant.

One put up with these small annoyances, though, for the chance to do something few others ever would, discover something long lost and reintroduce it to the Galaxy. Well, at least the nerds that read Outer Rim Archaeology, she thought.

The geejaw perched on her shoulder beeped, mimicking the datapad that had chimed several minutes ago. That was, she’d learned, almost like the reptavian version of clearing one’s throat.

You’re right, she thought. Focus. Get to the eastern passageway.

The device had finished syncing with her translation visor. Dr. Magarin had to catalogue every inscription and graffito on the wall she’d passed. Even if they didn’t prove useful for publication, reviewing them filled her with a specific kind of joy, the sense that the same Force that acted within her had moved the deep grain of history. That sense of connection felt almost transcendent.

Grand thoughts like those had the tendency to spirit her away. And that’s why she walked directly into someone as she rounded a curve.

Tall, broad, ripped. The human male before her certainly proved a desirable specimen. But that he wore heavy armor and toted blasters told her he might be one of those mercenary agents that raided historical sites in search of easy money on the antiquities black market. The currents of the Force eddied oddly around his presence, almost as though some sort of static were interfering with her perception.

“Hello,” Corinna said, cautiously, as she discreetly reached for the lightsaber hilt clipped to her belt. “Who might you be?”

A short, gravelly chuckle rasped from the mercenary's helmet. It bounced down the cramped duraplate-lined corridor over the sounds of skittering insects and faint drip of water from the ceiling.

"Who I am doesn't matter nearly as much as who you are, Dr. Magarin," Garret said.

His voice carried through the helmet's faceplate as a distorted metallic baritone. He knew exactly what he was hunting and had opted to swap his regular armored helmet for something to shield himself from the less physical complications that come up when dealing with a Force-user. The sulfurous tunnel atmosphere that made it into the helmet left a tinny taste on his tongue.

Before the Zeltron could ask how he knew her name, Garret raised his left hand. His thumb brushed a toggle on a small metal disc, and a blue hologram flared to life in the haze. It was her. The image rotated slowly above glowing Aurebesh text that marked it as an active bounty puck.

The mercenary hadn't just been wandering. The collision hadn't been an accident. He had tracked her into the Daleem underground, waiting in the low-light shadows of the broken conduits. His armor's low-light camo handled the rest. She wandered right into him while she daydreamed over ancient walls and the chirping of her pet.

Garret flicked his thumb again, and the projection blinked out. He slipped the puck back into a pouch on his tactical webbing while keeping his eyes on her hand. It still hovered near the metallic cylinder on her belt.

His own right hand dropped with a terrifying, practiced speed, coming to rest firmly on the grip of Outage, the heavy blaster pistol holstered at his thigh.

The unnatural empty void that the good doctor felt in the Force, which marked Garret's presence, suddenly hardened into an active threat.

"I'll make this simple, scholar," Garret said. He shifted his weight to close off the narrow passage as a spark snapped from a busted panel above them. "Take your hand off the glowstick, and you walk out of these ruins in one piece. Draw it, and I bring you in cold. Your choice."

A bounty? On me?

Corinna turned the fact over in her mind the way she might turn over an unfamiliar artifact, searching for a possible context that would make it make sense. She was a philosopher, sometimes archaeologist. She wrote journal articles. Perhaps she’d argued her points a little too vociferously, but she seriously doubted the author of an opposing citation could be the sort of person who posted bounties. Surely, someone had made a mistake.

Still, she stood face to face with a bounty hunter. A heavily armed bounty hunter who had just issued an ultimatum: surrender or die. It wasn’t really a choice, of course. Whatever chain of events had led to this confusion wouldn’t end well for her. She had to fight.

Corinna’s thumb found the activation stud on the lightsaber hilt while Garret spoke, then she drew it and activated it in one smooth motion. As the blade emerged, it bathed the tunnel in a cool purple light. Started by the sound, Echo launched from her shoulder and vanished into the upper dark, mimicking the sound as his wings flapped. Snap-hiss. Snap-hiss.

Garret didn’t seem impressed with her choice. The helmet hid his expression, but his posture said everything. His weight shifted and he adopted an aggressive stance. “Alright. If that’s the way you want it.”

The Zeltron had barely settled into position half-facing her opponent, placing her right foot forward and angling her lightsaber forward in her left hand—the opening stance of her secondary lightsaber form, since she figured the geographical constraints weren’t suited for her preferred Vaapad—when the human removed a blaster rifle from its holster, leveled it at her center mass, and unleased three bolts in quick succession. She batted the first two away with a lateral swipe of her blade, causing the plasma to sear the wall behind her. The third, however, clipped her armor’s crystal epaulets as she attempted to press forward. Her shocked scream echoed through the corridor.

At that moment she reached into Garret’s mind, probing with her extrasensory awareness in an attempt to divine his next moves. Unusually, her telepathic tendrils met a shield like a sealed door, turning her search for an advantage into a wave of disorientation. Whatever technology powered his helmet must have been built for exactly this kind of situation.

That moment was all Garret needed. He charged Corinna, slamming his forearm across her saber wrist. She tripped and fell against the tunnel wall, translation visor cracking and going dark. Before she could process what had happened, the mercenary pressed Outrage’s barrel under her jaw.

“Drop the glowstick. Now,” Garret barked.

She fingered the power button, collapsing the blade, and let the metallic hilt fall to the ground. Again, Echo mimicked from the darkness. Clang, clang. She held her hands up in surrender.

“Don’t pick it up. The gene-lock will shock you if you touch the hilt,” she said, resigned. “I’m not threatening you. Just trying to–“

Darkness flooded Corinna’s vision. With the pull of a trigger, Garret kept his promise.

Corinna's black eyes narrowed. For a fleeting second, Garret saw the calculation behind them, the odds being weighed silently.

She made the wrong choice.

Her hand didn't move. Yet the metallic cylinder flew upward into her palm, guided by the invisible current of the Force. A brilliant violet blade ignited with a sharp hiss, casting a harsh glare against the damp walls.

Garret didn't flinch. His heavy pistol cleared its holster in a fluid blur. He didn't bother aiming for center mass. He needed her alive, but he didn't need her comfortable.

He squeezed the trigger. A thick bolt of red plasma punched through the confined space. It caught her right in the shoulder of her saber arm before she could bring the glowing blade into a defensive guard.

Corinna cried out. The impact spun her backward. The lightsaber slipped from her grasp, deactivating as it hit a shallow puddle on the floor. Her reptavian pet squawked in panic, flapping away into the darkness.

Before the Zeltron could recover or try another trick, Garret closed the distance. He holstered the pistol, grabbed her uninjured arm, and spun her around, forcing her against the cold duraplate. A pair of heavy stuncuffs clicked into place around her wrists.

She slumped slightly against the wall, groaning as the fight drained out of her. The acrid air of the tunnel suddenly smelled a lot more like ozone and scorched fabric.

"I told you," Garret muttered. He checked the integrity of the cuffs, then activated his commlink. "Prep extraction. Got the scholar. Have a medic waiting."