Tarren twisted fiercely, yanking Luna's sword out of her hand and sending it flying. A victorious smile flashed across his face, thinking he had disarmed her. But Luna went against the grain. Rather than panicking, she performed a quick backward handspring, gracefully returning her assault rifle to firing position and landing lightly on her feet a few yards away. Selector shifted to full automatic and fired a steady barrage of rounds straight at Tarren. Instead of penetrating his armor, the high-velocity rounds pounded it, sending tiny pieces of the jacket and armor coating flying and generating a deafening storm of impacts that filled the air between them with kinetic energy. Under the constant assault, Tarren stumbled backward, each blow startling him even though the armor protected him.
Tarren's frustration grew quickly, and he acted desperate. Unclipping one of his remaining concussion grenades, he armed it and threw it underhand towards Luna while fumbling at his hip. Unbelievably, Luna caught sight of the awkward toss, stopped shooting, and leaped forward, catching the falling grenade just inches before it struck the forest floor. With an armed grenade now in her hand, she landed, rolled, and immediately leaped back to her feet. She threw it back at the stunned Tarren with deadly accuracy. He was completely unprepared for such a bold counter and stood motionless for a fatal fraction of a second. He was only a few feet away when the concussion grenade exploded. The blast's sheer concussive force lifted him off his feet and threw him backward through the air, even though his armor probably deflected the minimal fragmentation. Twenty feet away, he fell hard into a crumpled, immobile heap among the trees.
Luna ran in the direction of the fallen figure, drawing her backup dagger and picking up her fallen sword as she went. As she quickly came to him, she knelt down, pressed her dagger point to his throat, leaned her sword pommel against the back of his helmet, and formally demanded his surrender. No one answered. The blast wave of the grenade had obviously knocked Tarren out cold. Luna felt a grim flicker of satisfaction on her lips under her helmet. Triumph. He would probably be out of the tournament completely for at least the next week due to a severe concussion. (Concussion grenades relied less on shrapnel, which most combat armor could in fact render largely harmless, even though they were strong enough to incapacitate through blast pressure alone.)
With an anti-grav stretcher in hand, arena paramedics hurried into the forest, carefully stabilized Tarren, loaded him onto the stretcher, and hurried him off in the direction of the medical facilities. The audience cheered enthusiastically and roared its approval. The match had been fierce, thrilling, and ultimately decisive. Knowing that her friends would be waiting, Luna calmly made her way to the arena exit after retrieving her sword and sheathing her dagger. She didn't take off her helmet until she was completely out of sight of the main audience and off the arena floor. Her mystique was further enhanced by this habit; speculation about her appearance and even gender was common, and few members of the general public knew her face. Luna liked it that way. Her group closed in on her as she entered the access tunnel.
Nora was so excited that she practically bounced. "Yes! Another victory for Luna! Fantastic battle!"
Nayla gave a grateful nod. "Excellent conclusion. "How is the arm doing?"
With a clamor of excitement, Yan and Kieran added their own heartfelt congratulations. After the initial chaos had passed, Yan recommended that Luna's triumph be celebrated with dinner at a local restaurant. They decided on a well-liked gladiator hangout right away. While the others went off to reserve a table at the Aantolian Sun, a famous restaurant with substantial fare and strong beverages that is a favorite hangout for gladiators on Celyra Prime, Nora offered to stay and assist Luna in taking off and storing her armor. The interior design of the restaurant made it clear who its main customers were. The walls were covered in sections of exotic armor plating, polished swords, deactivated energy weapons, dented shields, and countless other weapons of war. Although the overall design was somewhat utilitarian and angular, it had an oddly upbeat, busy vibe that might have been meant to ease post-battle tension.
Twenty minutes later, Luna and Nora arrived to find the other three already seated at a big booth, drinking and still talking excitedly about the best parts of Luna's match. Kieran waved when he saw them. "Over here!"
"Guys?" Nayla said sharply as she leaned over Kieran, sipping a tall glass of amber ale.
Kieran gave a friendly eye roll. "All right, all right. Individuals. "Happy?" Satisfied, Nayla grinned. She found it amusing to tease Kieran about small linguistic errors, much to his mild annoyance.
"Hey everyone," Nora said with a smile as she slid into the booth next to Luna. "So, what's the poison of choice tonight?"
For a moment, the outdated Terran slang confused Yan, Kieran, and Nayla, who exchanged blank looks. Luna did not change her attitude. Nora let out a loud sigh. She spoke slowly, "What. Are. You. Drinking?" on her lips.
"Why didn't you just say so?" Yan teasingly retorted.
"Because I occasionally overestimate the cultural literacy of my companions!" Nora snapped back.
"Ooh, burn!" Nayla cheerfully added that she always liked to see Yan put in his place, even if only briefly. Kieran's eyebrows shot up in amusement as he observed the fast-paced exchange.
"Alright, settle down," Kieran said gently in response. "Why don't you two order drinks and we can attempt to maintain a semblance of civility?"
Luna said softly, "Simple is boring," which was her first contribution to the discussion.
Kieran just gave a shrug. "Can't argue with that, I suppose." He lifted his own glass in an attempt to shift the conversation. By the way, they make a great Jynnar Tonix. Strongly advised. Following humanity's dispersal among the stars, the traditional Terran gin and tonic had become surprisingly popular among many species, leading to innumerable local adaptations and variations across the galaxy. From the previously mentioned Jynnar Tonix, which was preferred by the Ktari, to the viscous Jinan'tonix, which was popular on Rigel VII, the bubbly Gyhn-N'Tonks of the Cygnus cluster, and innumerable others, conservative estimates placed the number of distinct varieties in the hundreds.
To Kieran's implied offer, Luna merely shook her head. "I don't drink alcohol, thank you."
Yan appeared to be truly surprised by this statement. The idea seemed alien to him. He pointed to his own glass incredulously and said, "What do you mean, you don't drink?"
Luna fixed him with her dark, intense eyes. She said slowly, "I. Do. Not. Consume. Alcohol," with each word falling like ice chips. "Is the concept truly that difficult for you to grasp?" Yan abruptly returned his focus to his menu after deciding not to pursue the matter further after becoming visibly pale under the intensity of her stare.
The group then placed their meal orders, with selections that reflected the diversity of their personalities. As expected, Nayla placed an order for a big platter of raw seafood, which is always a favorite. As expected, Yan chose the priciest dish on the menu, obviously aiming to quietly show off the fortune he had amassed from his endorsement deals and arena winnings. He regularly took advantage of his popularity with the crowd, signing autographs with ease and profiting from the sizeable betting pools that were placed on his games. Fighters were typically guaranteed a small portion of the total money wagered on their individual bouts under standard tournament contracts. Nora chose a plain cheese pizza. (Many aspects of Terran cuisine, such as pizza, had become remarkably accessible and widespread throughout much of the known galaxy after the expansion of humanity.) Luna placed an order for plicto, a Renshahn traditional dish. The long, thin strands were a bright yellow, made entirely of processed stem vegetables, and resembled Terran spaghetti in both texture and size. It was notorious for its strong, acquired flavor, which most offworlders either loved or hated, the latter being much more prevalent. A thick Fenatl steak was Kieran's choice. (Native to the dense jungles of many worlds, fenatl were large, infamously violent herbivores. Although hunting them was risky, their rich, orange-brown meat was highly valued for its succulent texture and dense protein content.)
Following the meal, the five friends returned to the docked Kyara for the night after another round of drinks (without Luna) and an additional hour of animated conversation. Nora would have to face the arena tomorrow.