Back at their now-familiar table in the Aantolian Sun that night, Kieran, Yan, Nayla, Luna, and the recuperating Nora went over the latest tournament events and made final plans for how they would handle Treskan.
Luna calmly said, "He won't bolt, Nora, I'm telling you," but her eyes retained their typical intensity. "He believes he got away with it. Assuming no one will suspect him, he will remain in his current position and aim for the finals. He won't go away now and risk losing his possible winnings." Luna was attempting to calmly convince Nora to postpone her vengeance for a day or two more.
"But Luna, if we wait, he could advance further!" With her voice still tense from recollected pain, Nora argued while leaning slightly on her pillows in the booth. "Like me, another brave warrior might suffer severe injuries! We should deal with the bastard as soon as possible.
Nayla skillfully broke up the argument before it got out of hand. Sensibly, she inquired, "Who's scheduled next from our group?"
Yan said, "That would be me," "0815 tomorrow morning."
"All right. That leaves me, and I have three days until my first match," Nayla calculated. "There is a two-day window before my fight to... settle the Treskan situation if Yan prevails tomorrow. "Agreed?" Luna, Yan, and Kieran all nodded. After a brief pause during which her impatience clashed with reason, Nora reluctantly nodded her agreement as well. Although she acknowledged the strategic benefit of waiting, she fervently wanted the nekulturniy to be addressed right away.
"Excellent," Kieran said, guiding the discussion in a more lighthearted direction. "Now, in relation to another issue... Have we agreed on Yan's suggestion from yesterday to formally establish our agreement and function as a permanent team?
Nayla was the first to reply with a casual shrug. "It works for me. We are all good fighters, our styles work well together, and—perhaps most importantly—we can get along with one another for the most part. Correct?" Luna gave Kieran a brief, unreadable look and then nodded curtly with Yan and Nora.
"Good," Nayla exclaimed contentedly. "As a recognized team, pooling resources and coordinating appearances, we should all reach Elemental rank much faster." ( Three main ranks—Entry, Elemental, and Elite—that represented increasing degrees of talent, reputation, and experience made up the established gladiatorial hierarchy. Although some, if not all, of the five members of their informal group were thought to be strong candidates on the verge of becoming Elementals, they all currently held Entry rank. A fighter would typically select affiliation with one of the five symbolic "Elements"—Fire, Earth, Air, Water, or the more uncommon and esoteric path of Death—after reaching Elemental rank. Each of the three fundamental strengths was highlighted in a different way. Fire placed a high value on strength, endurance, and defense. Earth prioritized defense, speed, and strength. Air valued endurance, speed, and stealth. Water was a harmonious combination of all qualities. The mysterious Death path placed a strong emphasis on endurance, strength, and stealth. The affiliates of each Elemental path adhered to their own unique training philosophies, codes of conduct, and frequently distinctive meditative or focusing disciplines to differing degrees. The traditional colors of their chosen Element, such as fiery reds and oranges, earthy browns and greens, airy blues and whites, watery silvers and deep blues, or the stark blacks and grays of Death, were also frequently used by Elemental fighters in their armor and gear. Additionally, the three ranks roughly matched the various operational regions of the galaxy. In the heavily populated Inner Core worlds, where planets were reasonably close to one another and tournaments were regular and easily accessible, entry-level fighters usually competed. Typically, elements functioned in the Outer Core systems, which are frequently less developed, riskier areas with longer travel times between competition locations. As a result, in order to effectively traverse the great distances between contests, the majority of fighters who advanced to Elemental rank had to purchase faster, more powerful starships. Outside of their chosen domain—the perilous, sparsely populated Galactic Rim, which is regarded as the most dangerous and wild fighting circuit of all—elite-ranked fighters were rarely spotted. Apart from enduring rumors that they frequently wore plain, dark gray cloaks that concealed armor and weapons still emblazoned with the colors and symbols of their original Elemental affiliation, there was little hard information about the Elites. The lists of prohibited equipment typically shrank as fighters advanced through the ranks, but the level of competition rose rapidly. According to statistics, a very small percentage of all registered gladiators—possibly less than 5%—ever attained the coveted Elite rank.
"Great choice," Kieran said with a nod, before adding pragmatistically, "Of course, registering as a team requires a substantial amount of... administrative paperwork." Yan let out a loud groan; paperwork was probably his fourth least favorite thing.
Nora turned to Kieran and said, "Speaking of settling in," "is it okay if we start... personalizing our assigned cabins a bit? I don't mean to offend your sense of style, but the gray bulkheads that are standard are becoming a bit boring.
Kieran said, "Feel free," with ease. "Please don't make too many significant structural changes. Additionally, I like the color scheme that is currently used in the common areas. However, you have complete control over what happens behind your own cabin doors.
"Pretty sure none of us plan on redecorating the engineering section," Nora said with a grin. "Heck, I can barely tell a power conduit from a coolant line in there!"
Kieran stated, "Leave the engineering aesthetics to me," grinning slightly. "Your cabins are yours to customize."
"So... no restrictions at all on what we do in our cabins?" With a hopeful, speculative gleam in his eye, Yan asked.
Nayla leaned forward with a knowing, predatory smile before Kieran could respond. "Oh, brother dear, I don't believe Kieran is concerned about what you might do in there. It's the who that might cause problems.
"It hurts! called out. Nora chuckled with joy.
By raising a hand, Kieran avoided Yan's inevitable reply and steered the discussion back on course. "Yan," said Kieran calmly, "I really don't care what or who you entertain in your own cabin as long as it stays private and doesn't interfere with ship operations or put anyone in danger. Just use... discretion. In terms of customization, we can make a supply run planetside the day after tomorrow, after the Treskan business is finished. At that point, you can gather any ornaments or personal belongings you require. "Agreed?" Around the table, there were murmurs of agreement.
Luna pushed back a little in her chair. "I'm going back to the ship. I need to sleep." She got up.
"So what else is new?" Yan muttered something that only Nayla could hear as they all got up to follow Luna.
On Celyra Prime, the next morning broke clear and bright. Today was supposed to bring bright sunshine and pleasant temperatures, in contrast to the previous days that were cool and cloudy, with a brief shower during Luna's match. For Yan Zantara, the day was already going pretty well. He had sneaked out of the Kyara late the night before and gone to a bustling off-worlder bar planetside, deciding he needed to 'unwind' before his morning match. There he had 'connected' with a beautiful human woman, one who even matched his infamously high standards, using his usual charm. Having bought her a few pricey drinks, he had booked a hotel room nearby, escorted her there, and let nature, as he liked to think of it, do its thing. Before Nayla woke up that morning, there had been a moment of worry on board the Kyara due to his unexpected absence. Being well acquainted with her twin's pre-fight "rituals," she was completely unsurprised when he vanished. Nayla's lack of concern led the others to quickly conclude the likely reason for his absence. It wasn't until his scheduled match time later that morning that they would actually see him again.
As the slight anxiety on board the Kyara faded, Yan, blissfully oblivious to any apparent chaos, was quietly getting ready for battle in his hotel room. His signature armor, a suit plated in a highly polished, nearly iridescent alloy that seemed to practically glow in direct sunlight, was carefully put on by him. The majority of male fighters thought it was too ostentatious and probably valued appearance over utility. However, a sizable segment of the female audience appeared to love it, and in the end, Yan cared most about their approval. But beneath the sculpted, artistic exterior, the armor was actually very functional. It was somewhat more susceptible to well-aimed piercing or slashing attacks from heavy edged weapons, but it provided exceptional mobility and surprisingly good protection against ballistic impacts. The limbs were made of high-tensile, flexible micromail that was strengthened by vambraces and solid greaves. The armor's theatrical—or, depending on the viewer, seductive—appearance was further enhanced by the cuirass's sculpting to resemble an idealized, highly muscular male torso.