Ask Corellia Doctors Without Boundaries

[Corran Velt]

If a night was ever calm, it was this one. Corellia was not often quiet, but it was tonight. The night sky was completely cloudless, with both orbiting moons and countless stars in clear view. In the distance, starships periodically came and went from Coronet City's various ports and dockyards, though not in as great of numbers as usual. Even the local neighborhood, somewhat near the suburbs of the larger city, was still. Not even an animal barking. It would have been a perfect night for star-gazing; one of Corran’s favorite past-times. Instead, he found himself laying prone on a roof and gazing through macrobinoculars at a nondescript office building tucked away on a service road that led to nowhere.

It didn’t look suspicious in anyway. Neutral colors for the building. Accessible parking. Four stories with the base being modern all-glass walls. The only hint of something odd being afoot were the lights gleaming through the up-most floor windows on a weekend night. That and the traced package of medical supplies that led the Sector Rangers’ investigation to this very spot. Medical supplies were a rare and valuable commodity in the Outer Rim; second only in demand to perhaps weapons. Defective medical kits were being sold to desperate groups too poor to buy directly from Core World companies and civilians without recourse were paying the price. Corran didn’t know the difference between real and fake when it came to examining medical supplies. That’s why he turned to the newest member of the Sector Ranger Affiliate program – Doctor Ilana Morata. Not only would her experience and sharp eye prove invaluable on such an operation, but it was a good opportunity to test out training wheels for the Arkanian.

Well, that’s not the only reason why. The official documentation made note of all that, but it would be a little fib to say that was all. The young man allowed himself a brief side-eye from the scopes to look at the Medical Affiliate. It was all he could allow. Tonight, it would be all business. Corran pulled the microbinoculars from his eyes and offered them to Ilana without looking away from their target building. “Do you want to take a look? I can’t make out what’s going on inside. We have permission to raid the building, if the situation calls for it.” It wasn't the most subtle choice, but potentially necessary if they couldn't reconnoiter any other evidence from a distance. The safe house likely was just a chain of such places along the smuggling route that led to the suffering Outer Rim.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

There were many things Ilana loathed in this galaxy. Abusers, the smell of putrefying trash, and those that scammed others for extra credits. Ironically enough, the first and third option were typically her only employers until fairly recently. And with the career change came many risks.

One of them in a cute Ranger package with a taste for professionalism in line of work, which she appreciated immensely. It wasn't often the good Doctor had a chance to have a quiet night, but instead of spending it immersed in a hot bubble bath listening to some heavy rock, she was laid over a rooftop next to Ranger Velt. Not a romantic rendezvous, but even she wasn't immune to the fact that it was a nicely quiet night.

However, focus was key.

When he passed her the macros, their hands brushed briefly, and a phantom of warmth ghosted across her skin. She didn't seem to be phased by the touch, but rather brought them up to peer closer as well, frowning.

"They've been quiet for too long; we might have to if it comes down to it. Let's just hope there aren't any shots fired before we have to raid," she muttered, squinting. Every now and then, she could sense his eyes on her, and she wondered if she had anything on her face. A spot of caf on her cheek or something? She fought the urge to brush at it, instead adjusting slightly from the weight on her elbows.

She had dressed in a black armored version of her medical coat, sans medical insignia and with a hood, thrown over her head. She had dressed for stealth, something she was comfortable with, but the wait was something new. "If our sources are right, we could save as many as three hundred patients alone from one deviant pak."

And that was on the smaller scale of patients. If the implications went any further, it could easily slide into the millions. She knew this personally; the amount of times she had been elbow-deep in a patient and trying to save their lives on faulty supplies could be counted on one hand, but it was a bitter number.

This would be a small balm to that injurious address, and when she heard of the raid offer she snapped it up faster than they could say 'womp rat'. There seemed to be movement in the window. She stiffened, and wordlessly passed them back to him, prepared to spring if she had to.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

An electric jolt jumped from the icy touch to his warm fingers when the two passed the macros between them. It wasn't painful. Quite the opposite in fact, but he didn't express anything on his face. In the midst of a mission, emotions were easily suppressed. Not focusing could lead to mistakes. Mistakes lead to injuries. Injuries lead to death. It was more important for things to go according to plan for it not to be their last together. Not to mention, the Ranger was determined to prove to himself that he could handle working with Ilana without suffering any lapse in discipline or operation outcomes. It was a personal dare in many ways. As the Arkanian peered through the scopes and described her take on the situation, he found himself looking at her longer than necessary. He was gambling against himself and he hoped the dice were favorable.

Three hundred from one pack? Did he hear that right? Without any expert knowledge himself, Corran would have to trust the doctor's math on that. The only medpaks the Ranger had used were quick one-offs in the field or ones deftly handled by other Ranger medics like Falynn Tikarsis. Could one medical pack really ruin or save that many lives on a dusty backwater? The weight of the operation grew heavier.

Another jolt leapt between them as the doctor silently handed back the scopes. Corran pressed his eyes into the macros and focused in on the window. A silhouette hefted a large container onto a counter and began tossing smaller cubes into it. After a few moments, the container was sealed up and carried away from the lit-up window. Almost instantly, the Ranger summarized his intuition, "They're packing up. We need to move." If the smugglers were able to move their defective units and relocate to a new safe house, finding another link in the chain could take weeks or months. Their hand had been forced - they needed to raid the building now or never. The only consolation was that the silhouette didn't seem in much of a hurry. The element of surprise remained.

Corran pushed off the hard roof pavement and sat up on one knee. His attire was the usual immaculate pressed pants tucked into boots and a jacket secured up to the neck in professional style. A badge hung securely over the young man's heart. Even in a raid, the suspects had a right to identify their attackers by uniform. Beside Corran sat a large backpack with plenty of pockets and a mag-grip which held an A280C blaster rifle along the side. The Ranger stashed the scopes into one of the pockets before shrugging the pack onto his shoulders. He reached back and withdrew two concussion grenades from another pouch and secured them to his pistol belt. No matter how tonight went, the young man had come prepared. "You ready? Let's go."

In a light jog, Corran made it to the fire-escape the two had originally ascended to get to the roof. A methodical rhythm of boots clanking against metal bars faintly echoed in the alleyway below. A final grunt and the crunch of gravel heralded the arrival of the Ranger to the ground below. Once fully descended, Corran would check on his companion to see if she needed any help getting down. Likely not, given the abilities he had witnessed before, but in the field the number one rule was always look out for your partner. Once she joined him on solid earth, the young man would unsling his rifle and aim down the scope to spy across the small service road for any changes. All remained quiet, except for the faint and occasional silhouette moving on the top floor. "Textbook says to advance from the roof of the target structure and work your way down. Failing that, start in the basement and ascend up secondary stairwells. Think we have the time and equipment to reach the top?" Corran's voice was stoic and serious, as if calculating the options and his vision never broke from the building ahead. His question was genuine. Doctor Morata had plenty of talents he didn't know about when they first met and continually surprised him. Better to ask about her experience and options before assuming. Besides, it is a best practice to confer with your partners on a plan.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

Almost as soon as he was getting up to move she was as well, shrugging over a shoulder bag that contained the computer spike and a few spare power packs, along with a small medical kit. She clipped the power packs to her belt, and switched the settings to stun on her blaster, double-checking the safety was on before clipping it back into its' side holster.

In instances like this, her focus narrowed even further to the next steps ahead. Light, silent and slender as a ghost she followed him to the fire escape, nimbly descending behind him, cautious to make as minimal noise as possible. Even in the dead of night, every sound seemed amplified, every slight clank or soft thump so much more sharpened by the silence.

Seeing him turn to possibly assist her down, she silently slipped down, heels first, gripping onto the bottom-most rail on the end to break the possible hard free-fall, then land on the balls of her feet. She took out her blaster from its' holster once more, switching off the safety catch, and checking the attachment to the end.

Recently modded after meeting up with the mercenary type Rawl made her feel like such an attachment might be necessary; the ascension cable would be a boon. "By the book is usually right, in my experience," she muttered, peering towards the service road. No vehicles yet, but if they were packing to flee it wouldn't be much longer. And she didn't know about him, but a determined smuggler flooring it with their faulty goods was too fast even if she were to enhance her running.

As it was, she could feel it thrumming in her bones, the power, the energy. It coated her synapses in ice and narrowed her attention to every minute detail, making it razor sharp. Even from this distance, she could feel the target's emotions. They weren't nervous yet. "I have an ascension mod," she held up her blaster for emphasis, "Going up would be risky; open stairwells on every floor, by architecture. Downside is likely ability to flee the premise without backup. I suggest not splitting up unless needed, we don't know their number or armed strength," she concluded, her voice the low, hard staccato of a professional.

This wasn't new work to her. But in a way, it was nostalgic of a memory she was never fond of, and she wanted to get this work over and done with.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Like a black Loth cat in the night, Ilana made it to ground so stealthily that it caught the Ranger off guard. Compared to his weighty steps, the Arkanian doctor was practically gliding. It all added to the ethereal mystery that was Ilana Morata. Corran was beginning to think she had more experience than being a medical contact for the criminal underworld. Nar Shaddaa and the wrist-darts had proven that much. That would have to wait, however, as action needed to be taken now.

By the book was her preference. Corran knew there was a reason he liked her. The doctor also wisely pointed out the pros and cons to the situation. Descending from the roof was the safest and most likely to succeed option, but the pair didn’t have the luxury of calling in back-up to hold up a perimeter. The smugglers would have the option of fleeing downstairs. Splitting up wasn’t good either – the number and armament of those in the safe house was mostly unknown. For a first-timer, Ilana was quite good at assessing the tactical situation. Unless it wasn’t her first time.

“We’ll use your ascension mod to relocate to the roof of the target structure,” Corran agreed in an equally rigid tone, “If we strike fast enough, they won’t have time to escape.” If the element of surprise remained intact, and with sufficient shock value upon entry, they two could pull it off. If any of those moving parts didn’t work as intended, however, a lot could go wrong. They would just have to rely on each other.

Sky blue eyes carefully scanned the service road for a few silent moments. Nothing coming yet. They glanced up and stared at the illuminated window. No one there. Wordlessly, the Ranger gave the two-fingered gesture to proceed and took off at a crouched run. The street was the most exposed portion of their approach. All it took was a vehicle coming up the road or for someone to look out a window and they would be spotted. In the still of the clear night, Corran could only hear his labored breathing as he hustled across the pavement. Crossing a street seemed trivial at any other time, but now it felt like a hazardous dash rife with danger. Only a few more steps. Almost there.

A silhouette appeared in the window and instinct forced Corran to dive to the ground, freezing in place prone. A few seconds ticked by. Heavy breaths had been forced into repressed, softened inhales. The humanoid outlined by light didn’t seem startled, but packed up another container and moved it away from the vantage point. Not taking the second chance for granted, Corran pushed off the pavement and looked back to check on Ilana. If she was alright, he would sprint towards the darkened ground floor of the office building. A stifled grunt followed after the blond youth had flung his back against the nearest exterior wall, flattening himself as much as possible to stay out of sight.

Once Ilana joined him, the Ranger would gesture with a finger pointed to the roof. “Ladies first, Doctor Morata.” His words were interrupted by labored exhales as the young man worked to catch his breath. Despite that, his tone was once again more of an invitation than a command. An ascension mod was new and he’d never operated one before. Would they have to go one at a time or could the device carry the weight of two people? A currently bottled-up part of the blond youth hoped it was the latter. Either way, Corran would follow the advice of his partner on the details.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

She had to take swifter, longer strides to keep up with him when he began crouch-running across the street, so when she did, it caught her off guard when he suddenly dropped prone. She stumbled, catching herself on the fall to freeze, scraping her palms across the duracrete and suppressing a hiss of surprised discomfort.

Like any experienced hand with blasters, her finger was off the trigger and pointed away when she fell. Seeing him check, she wordlessly nodded, then forced herself back up to follow him to the building.

Her own heart was pounding dully in her chest, her breathing measured, lungs aching to take a deeper drag of air but allowing her pulse to slow, steady. Hearing his words however, she gave a small nod, despite the tension of the situation. "It can carry both of us," she muttered, switching the setting to the synthcord, and checking the piton to make sure if she were to launch it, it would embed in the plain walls and not something less weight-bearing.

She eyed him speculatively, then tilted her head. "You can use it, but I need it back; I have no doubt you can bear my weight, but I doubt I can hold yours." That was mostly true; she could if there was a harness, but hadn't thought that far ahead. She pointed to the lip of the flat roof, then the building itself. "Aim just below that; hopefully the wall can hold us."

The unspoken rule was they were on borrowed time. Who knew when the pickup driver would make an appearance, and even with the shorter distance of four stories, they wouldn't have enough time to go one at a time. Though... it was a charming image, even she had to admit.

They would have to do a dynamic access; she couldn't see a roof access that meant getting to their targets. This would be an interesting scenario.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Four stories seemed to rise to thirty as Corran stared skyward at the target Ilana had selected. A wall wasn’t a small target, but hitting the right spot counted for a lot. If he missed, they both could fall to their injury or death. Hit the wall but the wrong spot and entry would be that much more challenging. Speaking of entry, the office roof didn’t offer any obvious access. The Ranger had a fusion-cutter and welding putty, but one would take too long and the other would give away the crucial surprise they needed. There was only one option: the window. Finally returning his eyes back to his partner, the young man gave a determined nod. A plan had formed in his head. "We'll have to breach the window." The specifics would have to be worked out on the fly, as much as that bothered the young man.

Before taking the blaster from the doctor, the A280 blaster rifle was returned to its magnetic patch along the side of the backpack. Everything to make the climb less cumbersome would be necessary. With ascension modded blaster in hand, the Ranger took aim from a kneeling position. It was more stable this way and he needed every advantage for precise aim. Staring down the sights, Corran held his breath and pulled the trigger. With a soft ping, the piton soared through the air. A faint crunch signaled that the shot had rung true and collided with the wall. He gave it a good tug just to make sure. Without explanation, the Ranger shrugged off his backpack and swung the straps around so the bag sat on his chest. While awkward looking, it was the most practical. The gear was still accessible and didn't block off the concussion grenades or blaster holster on Corran's waist. Most important of all, however, it allowed another person to hold onto the young man as they ascended, while allowing their freedom of movement. The straps in reverse also provided emergency hand-holds if things got dicey. The Ranger leaned over slightly and gave a single nod over his shoulder, "Climb on and hold tight, Doctor."

When Ilana was aboard, Corran would press the return button and the mod would force their rise. The weight of two people, along with their gear, caused the rapidly re-coiling synthethread to whine under the load. It would hold, but that didn't stop the Ranger from being temporarily nervous. The ascent slowed as they neared the piton until the motor came to a halt entirely. Corran placed his boots on the wall to steady himself. So far, so good. Balancing the gear on his chest and the person on his back, while maintaining slid grip on the ascension-mod, required a great deal of concentration. He was so focused, in fact, that he absentmindedly reached a free hand around to Ilana's rear and pushed to adjust her position on his torso.

They were positioned adjacent to the illuminated window. Even a curious glance from someone inside would easily spot the pair. Ilana could just as easily reach out and grab the top of the window sill and get her feet on the ledge, if she wanted. Any sound had a high chance of garnering someones unwanted curiosity inside. Silently, would tap Dr. Morata's hand, and if allowed, guide it along his thigh to the grip of his Power 5 blaster. If she were doing the breaching, she would need a weapon. With that understood, Corran pulled a concussion grenade from his belt and steadied a vice-like grip on the ascension-modded blaster. They would only get one shot at this and timing was everything.

A slide of the thumb activated the grenade's count-down. A rookie might have tossed it in immediately, but that would have given those inside too much time to scramble. Instead, he mentally counted the seconds in his head. Corran cocked back his arm to hurl the grenade through the window. A shadow. The silhouette. A humanoid neared the window. They set down a container but noticed a minuscule blinking red light in the reflection. The being peered out the window and saw the two dangling there by a cable. They began opening their mouth to shout. Corran flung the grenade through the glass, a second later than he intended to. Almost instantaneously as it entered, an explosion followed, blowing the window outward and sending shards flying. The grenade had likely air-burst inside. It was now or never.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

Watching him in action, he was clearly in his element. Though she was sure he could adapt to any lifestyle he chose, he suited the Rangers remarkably well. When he took her blaster, she almost reached for her first vibroblade. Anything to feel a bit more armed than she did, and less exposed. But soon they were anchored, and when he told her to climb on, she hid a faint smirk.

"Thought you'd never ask," she responded in a low rasp. To prevent choking him with her weight, she adjusted her arms around his shoulders, legs wrapped around his to still allow him access to his grenades. It was a long, heart-stopping moment that she held on to him, but when they reached up and he reached back to her ass, she stiffened slightly, then readjusted. Legs releasing from his, they braced against the wall as he prepared the grenade.

She followed his hand guide, and gripped. So long as it was a pistol and not some odd foreplay on the Ranger's behalf, she was fine. And it was, thankfully, with some good heft.

The blast sent a sear of heat across her face that made her twist her head away, trying to avoid any shards of glass that might come in their direction, but it blew inward.

She didn't waste time.

Swallowing hard, she avoided looking down, but instead to the upper window ledge. Reaching out to grab it with her free hand, for a split second her world was tilting crazily, releasing from Corran and with the threat of gravity a distinct possibility of pulling her down. But she felt that power, that raw energy surge and flare almost painfully, and she instead vaulted inside with one hand.

As she did, she could feel the heat from the grenade's impact. Shards of glass glinted, reflecting a few tongues of flame where the heat had caused the floor to catch on what little flammable material there was. One humanoid laid sprawled out on the floor, stunned and pinned with a few larger shards of glass.

A couple shots pinged above her entrance, and she tucked her forward inertia into a roll on the floor, ducking out of line of fire. All this happening in a swift span of moments. She could have shot with deadly force. But safety was off, stun was on.

She didn't pause but returned fire, tucking behind one fallen crate for cover.

"Two more!" she shouted at Corran. The fact that they were making progress towards the door didn't need to be said. The only reason they stayed was, because they apparently hadn't loaded any of their faulty progress downstairs. Which was perfect, as they wouldn't want to lose so much of their credit slice. It bought Ilana and Corran some time.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Super-human. That was the only phrase that could describe how Ilana moved through the air. Despite the explosion that caused Corran to shield his face from shrapnel, she seemingly glided through the air with ease and into the breach. Almost as soon as she crossed the threshold, red staccato lights interrupted the normal yellow hew and bolts smacked against the window frame or out into the night. Professional drive to neutralize the smugglers and personal will to help Ilana urged the Ranger to immediate action. Using the ascension-mod cable as a swing, the Ranger jumped off the wall with all his strength and swung through the obliterated window. As the cable reached its apex at the extent of its pendulum arc, Corran detached the connection between the pistol and the piton.

Due to his angle of entry and the weight of the pack across his chest, the young man's landing wasn't as graceful as the doctor's. The sudden snap of tension caused the flying Ranger to crash to the floor, directly onto his side. Hard. Glass crunched and shattered into more pieces under Corran’s weight and impact. The appearance of a second invader startled one of the smugglers who recoiled in shock. A stun bolt caught them in the chest immediately. An organic thud on the floor immediately followed.

The second goon reacted purely with survival instinct. Already heading for the exit, but knowing he would likely be shot in the back, the smuggler instead chose to change direction and lunge onto the laid-out Ranger. It happened so fast that Corran didn’t get a chance to line up a shot. It didn’t help he was also dazed and bruised from the forceful landing. The blond youth and his opponent locked into a life-or-death struggle on the shattered-glass-covered and charred floor. Having attacked first, the would-be smuggler had the physical advantage and tried to savagely beat the Ranger’s torso. Fists collided with the loaded backpack, luckily saving Corran the worst of it. An adrenaline-powered kick off the floor from the struggling Ranger caused the two men to careen towards the open exit. Unfortunately, Corran drew the short straw and slammed his head against the door frame when it came his turn in the barrel roll. Knowing a primal beating wouldn’t work, the criminal forced his hands around his opponent’s neck in an attempt to strangle the opposition into submission.

A knee pressed back against the strangler’s stomach, forcing them back a little, but their hands remained vice-like around Corran’s throat. Strained blue eyes desperately looked over the assailant’s shoulder. The Ranger managed to choke out grunting words, “La…Lana!”

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

She didn't think, she just reacted.

When they began wrestling, she aimed the lent blaster at his opponent. She nearly had a clear shot from her angle, but with them rolling, she gritted her jaw in frustration, waiting for the right opportunity. The hard thump of his head meeting the dooframe changed things however. Seeing him getting strangled, and being attacked in such a manner, made her close the distance, mindless of the heat and crunching glass underfoot.

Coming up from behind, she fired one shot straight into his back. The urge to shoot a second time was strong, but the only reason she did was he shuddered, but still held on.

And then a second stun. He shuddered again, his grip slacking around Corran's throat. A well-aimed side-sweep kick pushed him off, and he rolled off the Ranger limply. Checking the stunned assailant's pulse, she could feel a thready, but present heartbeat, before tending to Corran.

"You alright?" She rasped, offering down her free hand to him, holding the blaster lowered and away. "We can't stay in the open too long, driver might be here any minute. Can you breathe fine?" Amber eyes scrutinized him. Beneath the professional, clinical icy gaze, there was a hint of genuine worry. That blow to the head and neck must have been rattling, as well as lack of oxygen... she would possibly have to check for abrasions and other wounds in better light if they had any time left.

They would also have to cuff their assailants before they could fully rouse, and she wasn't allowed to have any, only being an affiliate.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

His vision began to grow fuzzy. Fluid black edges began to close in on his sight. Ten fingers formed five locks around his throat and his lungs gulped for air, but found none. The weight of the man on top of him grew heavier and heavier. Struggling was becoming more difficult. His knee started to give way. A sudden blaster shot startled Corran back to semi-lucidity. Who was that? A second shot rapidly followed the first. Ferocious hands around his neck finally released their grip. A coughing fit mixed with wheezing gulps of air erupted instantaneously. Corran's lungs burned and his throat felt sore. A dead-weight sat on his lower torso, holding back his diaphragm from truly allowing the deep inhales his body desperately wanted. A black-clad kick sent the unconscious body tumbling over. It was Ilana. In his recovering vision, the Arkanian practically looked angelic, even draped in black. Wow. That was the only thought capable from Corran's oxygen-thirsting mind.

Speaking of oxygen, the young man rolled over on his side in convulsion of deep gasps of air, like someone surfacing from underwater. Breathing began to steady and senses returned to normal. His ears picked up the doctor's words before his eyes focused on her hand. "I'm alright. I can breath," he answered hoarsely, taking her hand tightly and pulling himself up. The Ranger wobbled a bit on his feet, but steadied himself against the wall. His head hurt and his neck was surely going to bruise up. Looking down, Corran realized he was covered in glass shards. The heavy fabric of his jacket and pants had prevented many lacerations. He carefully brushed off the shattered glass and shrugged the backpack off his chest. It eased breathing and it didn't belong there anymore.

On the floor laid three unconscious individuals of various heights and builds. By the look of it, none had escaped and much of their illicit goods were either packed away in forest green containers or on the counters of the packing room. That being said, Corran had made a lot of noise and if there were any others on the 4th floor, they surely heard it. Ilana was right; they couldn't stay long. Opening a pocket from the backpack, the Ranger drew forth three sets of stun-cuffs. He almost always carried at least two pairs on him, but for this operation he brought a few more. If a raid was on the table, he wanted to be prepared. One by one, stun-cuffs were applied to the wrists of the unconscious goons and Corran began dragging them out of debris on the floor. "We'll need to clear our way down or wait in ambush for the transport speeder crew when they arrive," the young man dropped a body near the far wall before grabbing another by the shoulders. It came down to two opposing views of strategy. Attack first to catch the arriving vehicle off guard or fight a defensive engagement. Corran preferred to strike first and keep the initiative. Less chance for the driver to get suspicious, at least. That'd be four flights down though and while the building seemed empty, was it? He didn't provide an answer, wanting to hear the doctor's insights.

With the prisoners taken care of and backpack donned again in its usual place, the blond youth walked over to Ilana and offered her S-40 stun pistol back, "Returned safe and sound, as promised. Trade you for my Power 5?" He nodded to the bulkier blaster in her own hand.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

Ilana tried to help by moving the third body up and out of the way, mindful of glass. He still had a rasp to his own voice, and she could still faintly see the outline of fingers to his throat where the male tried suffocating him. Rage still seethed beneath the surface at that, but for now she swallowed it down, lowering to a crouch and pressing her fingers to the wood beneath, closing her eyes.

It may have looked strange to an outsider, but she was focusing, attempting to pick through the layers of duracrete, durasteel, and other building materials to pick through and sense other emotions. It was a difficult process, to open herself up thus. And though she could sense a few others, in other buildings, they were asleep, oblivious.

She finally opened her eyes on the huff of a sigh from her lips, glancing up to Corran with lambent amber eyes. "I sense no other life forms," she replied calmly. "Though if there were droids, they would have come with the noise. We must be alone, for now..." she paused, cocking her head.

"Far better to initiate surprise here, and lure them upstairs. The lowest floor is too open, we'd be gunned down or lose them." Her tone was crisp, pragmatic, but as he offered to trade back blasters, a faint smile touched her lips before ghosting away. "Thought you'd never ask. The Power 5 is a bit.. too front heavy for me," she added sheepishly, checking over her own S-40. The ascension synthcord was still hanging outside, but replenishing that wasn't expensive, nor the piton.

She handed back his own pistol, but didn't relinquish it right away. "Are you sure you feel fine?" she asked calmly, golden eyes unyielding in their dissecting stare. Almost as though willing to cut through any attempt at brushing off. "Don't play heroics; a concussion can be--" her lecture was cut short by a familiar whine.

An engine.

Frowning, she cocked her head towards the stairwell, and knelt low beside one of the desks that once occupied the space as a genuine office. Hopefully he would do the same behind something else to provide cover; once more she set her blaster to stun, and waited.

Please, by the Force, don't let it be droids.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

It looked strange how Ilana was kneeling in the debris to touch the floor. Did she lose something in the breaching maneuver? No, her eyes are closed. Corran wanted to reach out to her and ask if she was alright or at least what she was doing. Something stilled his voice and hand. Something unseen. It was beyond a mere social cue, but not unknown altogether. Was Ilana… using the Force? Was this an extension of her empathic abilities? The Ranger had never seen it be used like shipboard sensors. It was moments like this the very mortal young man was reminded how mystical and special Ilana really was… and how he never could be.

Golden irises revealed themselves and the Arkanian revealed that she had been scanning their surroundings. Thankfully, no organics were on the premises. Droids were a possibility, though? So there were limits to what Force-users could see. At least, what she could see. Regardless, the safe house had been secured for the time being and that gave them precious time to get things in order.

Corran nodded in agreement with his companion’s assessment. The ground floor was quite spacious and there was something to be said about having a prepared defensive position and plan. Especially if they were outnumbered. When the two started to exchanged pistols, the young man cherished the fleeting smile as if it was coaxium. Between all the professional decisions and life-threatening action, it was more than reassuring to know that Ilana was still in there somewhere. It even gave him a little confidence. “Too heavy? So she does have a weakness,” Corran teased her in a parched tone, “Good thing you’ve got a strong pack bantha nearby.” The humor was cut short because the doctor refused to yield the Power 5; instead using it as leverage to interrogate him on his condition. The Ranger opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the same mechanical whine Ilana was.

A speeder. The pick-up crew had arrived.

Following the doctor’s lead, Corran tucked his sidearm back into its holster and equipped himself with the A280C from the mag-strip. In a low hunch, he advanced to a support pillar in the middle of the office by within eye-sight of his partner. A previous firefight in a research lab had taught him that desks made acceptable cover – until they were shredded to bits. Something more stable felt safer.

Time ticked by. Seconds were hours as adrenaline slowed the passage of them. The office cubicle farm was utterly silent as a morgue. A footstep down the stairwell, faraway, heralded the approach of newcomers. Faint voices, their words unintelligible, could be heard approaching. Two people, by the sound of it. There was a third pair of steps that accompanied them. Metallic clanking against the stairwell duracrete. A droid. Likely the mechanized muscle they needed to move the fully loaded containers efficiently downstairs. If they were lucky, it was a civilian model. If not...

Voices drew nearer. Two men laughed at some unheard punchline. The echo from the stairwell was gone now. They were in the room. "Lights still on. Why the hell did they make us come all the way up here?" One said to the other. Corran was holding his breath now, waiting for an opportune moment to open fire. His hands gripped the rifle tightly against his chest. "Are you guys not done packing yet!?" The shout had no response. More footsteps, including the metal ones, began approaching. If they waited long enough, the three guests would walk right on past Corran and Ilana towards the illuminated doorway. By then, the smugglers and droid would be too close. More steps. Closer. Closer. The rhythmic metal clanks seemed more intimidating with each step. The Ranger pivoted on a foot and brought his rifle to bare on the trio and fired a stun blast. The lead smuggler was taken by surprise and stumbled forward into unconsciousness.

And that's when Corran saw it. A civilian configuration B2 Super Battle Droid. It was painted in bright orange with black-and-white alternating stripes on its joints. Its blasters had been removed but its armor and raw strength were still a force to be reckoned with. No stun rounds would work on that thing.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

At least he still had his sense of humor; that was a good indication. She was tense, mindful of her breathing as the enemy approached, and she heard the footfalls as he did, the voices. Two of them, at least, were organic. The third... she cursed her luck. Of course they had to involve machines. She trusted droids to a point, even had one of her own... But in a firefight, unless they were a bounty droid, were utterly useless and more for cannon fodder.

The other smuggler prepared to return fire on Corran, and she whipped out of cover to attack.

But not to the smuggler preparing to fire.

She assessed their position, how far they had entered the room.

The trajectory of a flying body towards the open doorway.

If a chassis could withstand such a fall, and if so, would it be programmed to address the attacker or flee.

All risks and foreseen circumstances were calculated, except for a few variables in the process. One of which was the other smuggler attempting to engage in the name of his fallen fellow. instead of using her stun weapon on the droid, she used her free hand. Eyes burning a brilliant gold, teeth bared in a fierce snarl of focus, she had to roll out of cover to address the droid, aiming all of her focus, strength, and rage into a Force Push.

It worked. She watched as it careened out of the room with a machine warbling wail past its' organic counterpoint, slamming into the opposite wall with a satisfying, smashing crunch of metal against the wall, and even through it. But its' partner noticed.

She couldn't move enough to dodge the sudden switch of trajectory as the smuggler moved, and a bolt caught her in the shoulder, just where the edge of her armored coat rested. She cried out, slumping to the ground in surprised pain behind the desk once more. She hissed in a breath as more bolts sailed overhead, some punching into the imitation wood of her temporary shelter. She was fine, but it was much more difficult to fire one-handedly. She switched it off from stun to lethal.

If that droid survived that impact, she'd not hesitate to shoot it right into that metal head and end it once and for all.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

The impossible became real. Before Corran could swivel his iron-sights to the second smuggler, the goon had him dead to rights. Ilana stood up from her cover and lifted an empty hand. Seemingly catching the new target out of the corner of their eye, the remaining smuggler turned their head to look at the Arkanian. The Ranger and the criminal would both bear witness. Her eyes shimmered like stars going super nova and ferocious teeth expressed a rare fury. Seemingly on its own, the hulking former war droid sent careening into the far wall, as if punched by some giant, invisible fist. Not just into the wall, but through it, leaving a massive gap in the duracrete. Cubicle walls and loose office supplies shuddered, rippled, or broke by the sheer force of the invisible energy. Loose fragments of the building material clanked against the metallic body of the tossed battle droid.

In immediate recognition of the most dangerous threat, the thug pointed his barrel at the Arkanian and fired. Ilana's cry propelled Corran into action. He did not express any rage, sorrow; nothing at all. He raised the blaster rifle to his shoulder, aimed, and fired a two-round stun burst into the remaining organic criminal. It was as quick and simple as target practice. A startled gasp escaped from the thug's lungs as he froze up and fell against a cubicle wall, settling into a slouching seated position. The Ranger kept his blaster pointed at his previous target for a beat, confirming the hit. Then he moved from the support pillar, rifle at the shoulder, and methodically advanced towards the doctor. Once in the hallway between cubicles, a single robotic visor lit up the darkened hole in the wall. The B2 was still active. With no hesitation, the professional Ranger pivoted and brought his gun barrel to bear. A simple click switched the weapon from stun to live fire. Three shots in quick succession followed. The moon-lit room briefly burst red with each pull of the trigger. A baritone, robotic groan faded into silence. Only when the threats had been defeated did Corran realize the battle droid had been pinned under debris and his shots only finished off the construct. Two blasts to center mass and one to the central processor.

Combat stress drained from the young man's senses and he remembered Ilana. Lowering the end of his rifle towards the floor, he jogged over to her last position. "Ilana? Ilana?" Corran called out in a harsh whisper. He found hear sitting against a pock-marked desk. No blood. That was a good start. The blond youth dashed onto his knees next to her, practically sliding, and holding the pistol-grip of his rifle loosely in one hand. The other hovered over her arm, worried that a touch could cause more harm. "Are you injured? What hurts?" His voice maintained a veneer of discipline and stoicism, but there was no doubt the doctor would be able to hear the more personal, heartfelt worry just barely behind the words. Sky blue eyes, those windows to the soul, looked into the amber ones for guidance.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

Hearing the staccato fire of Corran handling the last of their enemy gave her pause, then switch off her blaster from lethal to stun, and then flick on the safety once more. Lowering it with her other hand, she heard him whisper her name, but before she could answer he was already there, framed by weak office lighting, concern and worry clearly written all over his face.

Despite his tone, it wouldn't have taken an empath to know how he was feeling in that moment. He was already hurt himself, had just handled two enemies with precision yet he was worried about her. She took a moment to blink up at him before responding, hand lightly brushing against his own. "I'm fine," she assured in a low rasp, nodding once. "Lucky shot; they got most of my armor. it just..." she winced as each word moved the coat a little bit, then sighed.

"It just stings a little. I've been shot before," she answered, tucking her blaster away into its' holder. But a new weight had settled in the room. He had seen her doing something impossible, yet he still wanted to make sure she was alright. Her hand trembled almost imperceptibly, and she swallowed, glancing away. She wasn't proud of her reaction using the Force.

"I've never done that before," she finally confessed, tilting her head back towards where the remains of the droid still lingered. But there was no point in lingering herself, not if she was still alive. Forcing her own features to smooth, she slowly got back upright, amber eyes focusing on him as well. The same shadow of concern barely touching her features, but there. It seemed the good Doctor cared as well.

"What of you? Are you alright?"

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Despite a trained and experienced medical doctor informing him that her own injuries were nothing to be worried about, the young man's furrowed eyebrows suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. A pained wince from the self-diagnosed patient didn't help much either. Ilana had been nicked in two out of the three hostile situations they'd been in together. For someone so lithe and often graceful in the heat of the danger, the Ranger wondered if the new Affiliate could do for some combat training. He'd have to make that offer later when it wouldn't be so offensive and insensitive. A slight shake of the head and a defeated sigh communicated that Corran had surrendered to Ilana's self-assessment and knew better than to push against it. He had learned when she made a decision, no force in the galaxy could change it except herself. He liked that about her, even if it did frustrate at times.

A gesture of the head brought up the other Force in the galaxy that Ilana had at her command besides her own will. At first, the blond youth looked confused, unsure of what she was referencing. Never done what before? It wasn't until he followed her eyes to the 2 meter tall hole in the far wall that he realized she meant... her powers. Corran stared in awe and uncertainty. Deflecting laser blasts, healing incredible wounds, influencing the environment, and incredible agility; these were all the things he knew Force-users, even trained Jedi, were capable of. This? This was a raw power unseen to him before. The young man didn't want to imagine what it would do to a sentient being.

None of that mattered right now. Even after Ilana had steadied her features, the expressions of guilt or shame or something like that moments earlier told enough. "Hey, you did great. For a first time, that's pretty impressive," Corran said with an amused grin, though voice still strained. It still sounded odd to his own ears that he talked like he smoked for 20 years. A little banter went a long way to comfort others, he found. That's all he ever wanted to do - to comfort her. Only the badge and duty held him back, even now. As the doctor righted herself, his eyes followed her steadied movements. When amber eyes settled on him, a small measure of concern was reflected in them.

"I'll have a bump the size of a small moon on the back of my head," Corran replied to her inquiry hoarsely, "Some bruising along my side from the initial fall. Maybe some cuts here and there. Minor." His free hand gestured to the various points of injury as if describing them in a report. He reached up to his neck and brushed it gingerly with his fingers, "These though? I'll need to come up with a story to save myself from embarrassment." That playful, stupid, boyish smirk reared its ugly head again. "Maybe say they're hickeys or something." A light chuckle followed, only to be interrupted by a small coughing fit. The young man patted his chest, as if that would sooth it, before recovering with a few breaths.

Switching from fire to safe on the rifle and reattaching it to the mag-strip, the Ranger rose to his feet and adjusted the backpack with a shrug. If letting a little bit of his professionalism slack helped or didn't, there was still work to do. Corran pointed to the unconscious smugglers, "I'll cuff them and secure their weapons for evidence." He then swiveled his head and nodded to the doorway that led to the room of shattered glass and illicit goods. "If you could begin rifling through the containers there and begin cataloging what is defective, real, or entirely illegal, that would help me a lot, Doctor Morata." It was a mundane sounding task, but the most important of them all. Blasting bad guys, jumping through windows - all those heroics were flashy but it was the evidence, paperwork, and boring chores that won all cases in the end. Without the Arkanian doctor's expertise, Corran wouldn't have any clue what was a fake medical kit or not. Without out that evidence, then this raid would require a Star Destroyer-sized Reasons for Entry packet. If that happened, Ilana wouldn't see him for weeks he'd be so up-to-his-neck in documentation. As the Ranger walked towards the stunned goons, stun-cuffs in hand, he allowed a glance over his shoulder at the mystifying woman. He wondered if she wouldn't like the idea of being forced apart that long. He didn't like it.

After securing the new prisoners, Corran would make his way to the evidence room. Hands on his hips, he'd ask, "What are your findings so far, Doctor?"

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

At his smirk, she found the odd urge to smile back, and suppressed it. Barely. But at his mention of hickeys... her white brows raised subtly, and a slight answering smirk came in reply. "Careful there, Ranger. Else you might be more kinky than most... or I... would have anticipated," sparing him a wink as she sauntered past towards one of the green packs filled with medical supplies. Hearing his statement about securing their captures, she merely nodded.

But hearing him request her filing the merchandise, she turned to face him, golden eyes calm, less cold than they had been several times before. "Of course, Ranger Velt." In truth, it was one of the main reasons why she was here; her knowledge of these packs was mostly by occupation, but he perhaps would have limited experience with field wound dressings or surgeries. Too often she didn't have access to proper or full equipment, and had to improvise to save a life. And a few times too many even those improvised equipment were faulty or ill provided.

Pulling a pair of sterile gloves from her pak, she could feel his eyes on her back as she worked. She could ignore the sting, the throbbing pain that pinged dully at her shoulder; it wouldn't be for long, but at least long enough to verify that at least one of these supplies was faulty by purpose.

And she struck gold.

One of the packages was a tube of bacta; kolto as well, but bacta supplies were harder to replicate. Popping the cap to sniff the contents, there was a faintly sour tang to the contents, and she was sure that if she analyzed it with a proper diagnostic scanner it would read as a composite of several other mixtures, none of which could be bacta or kolto. Something that, on a field, could be a deadly dressing. The introduction of so many horrible inflections just to make a few extra credit chips... it made her huff low in disgust, tossing the bacta tube on a close by desk.

She riffled through a few more packs, her expression growing stormy with controlled frustration. Hearing Corran's voice, she paused, then turned to him.

She held one pack in her hand, jaw tight and amber eyes glimmering with frustration. "One of these is an AED for children," she finally managed to work out, then turned to open it up to show him. Unlike adult pads, which were roughly the size of his palms, these were so much smaller. This was a pack meant as a full kit, even with a diagnostic scanner and set of surgeons tools. But she held up the small connector leads.

"It doesn't even have a charger channel. Nothing. The buttons are false... the medicines are cheap placebos." She tossed it on the desk, disgusted. "I pay a fortune for equipment like this; in a mass market, one of these can be used only once, but imagine on a battlefield." Her shoulders were tense, but she sighed, shaking her head. "It would take an eternity to sort through most of this... but if I had to give an estimate, there are over five hundred packs here, and perhaps eighty percent of them are useless trash," she muttered.

"The only parts of these are real are the narcotics to cut the pain, and those are addictive. How ironic." Her tone was bitter, bleak, and she used one of her palms to rub at her forehead with a sigh. "My findings are not good news for anyone that might have purchased from our guys back there," she jutted her chin to where he took their suspects, then attempting to cross her arms. Another flash of pain made her grimace in discomfort, and instead lean against the desk, gazing over at him.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Damning. The evidence was damning. Maybe even beyond. As the Arkanian doctor ran down each example of defective, damaged, or outright fake medical tool or supply, Corran stared at each new thing she introduced and then set aside. Many of the items, like the bacta applicators, would have gone completely unnoticed to anyone but experts like her. He would sometimes nod to show understanding. But with each new piece of evidence, it seemed to weigh on Ilana. Almost literally. Anger and frustration at the greed and indifference. Disgust at the cruelty. Sadness and fatigue at the suffering this illicit black-market trade caused. All these were clear on the empath's face and in her expressions. Like boulders on her very shoulders. The sheer scale of it was enough to give Corran pause. Five hundred kits? And eighty percent were worse than useless? Maybe even actually harmful? All those poor people just trying to get access to healthcare in the abandoned Outer Rim. On top of the high demand for portable medical aid, the growing violence on border worlds was becoming an issue, and the rumors of some virus making more denizens sick... it made sense why these fake medpaks were being produced and sold. The sick logic didn't make stomaching it any easier.

Corran grimaced and shook his head. All the risks they had taken were worth it, but was it enough? With the captured suspects and now expert opinion on collected evidence, the Sector Rangers might have a chance in following the chain upward to capture the suppliers and down stream to interrupt shipments of the fraudulent medical supplies before they caused any further harm. It was all maybes. All the Sector Rangers could do, in tandem with local security and police, was try. Once it slipped past the reaches of the developed worlds, however, there was almost no force out there among the Outer Rim besides Rangers themselves and maybe a local benevolent sheriff that could do anything. A little good was all they could do and it felt like never enough.

But that wasn't a reason to stop doing a little good. Corran noticed another mild hint of pain briefly appear before being subdued by the trained doctor. It was grating enough when anyone was suffering, but when it was someone close like... her it couldn't be ignored. Releasing his hands on his hips, the Ranger approached the Arkanian in steady footsteps. "Your findings may not be good news for anyone who got their hands on one, but because of your efforts, many others won't suffer from them. You've done good work, Doctor Morata." He stopped just short of her personal bubble, standing in front of her as she leaned against the desk. Blue eyes glanced at her shoulder, then back to her snowy features. "I'll call this in. CorSec will take our prisoners into custody and start going through each container individually," the young man assured, "But... before I do that, the Ranger guidelines recommend all on-site personnel receive adequate medical attention once hostilities, if any, are concluded." It was thin layer of bureaucracy that would allow the dutiful Ranger to comfort his companion. Or at least, it allowed an excuse for it in his mind. Corran shifted a strap off his shoulder and allowed the backpack to swing to one side, allowing him easier access to his own medical field kit that was a mainstay in his gear. Once in hand, he set the backpack beside the doctor and gestured to her shoulder, "I know you say its nothing, but I've seen you wince at it more than once." He took a step closer, inside her personal space now. "Just guide me through it, like your cheek on Nar Shaddaa."

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

She was used to having a job done and ignoring the pain until she would get back to her ship, and self-treating there. She fully intended for that to happen there, but instead Corran stepped closer and closer, slowly, and she had the urge to keep that distance with that intent look. She knew that look. He was going to outstubborn her, and she had the feeling try as she might, he'd persist. Suddenly, she was too tired to play the stubborn card. It had been a night of focus, of intensity, but now that the intense situation was over she felt drained, especially with the emotional impacts through it all.

He wanted to care for her, and she would let him. For now.

"Is that right?" She asked, purposefully leaning to the side to look at his head, then back to gaze down his features, settling on his eyes before further down his neck, and then elsewhere, giving a raised brow. "Cover me if you'll let me cover you, then," came the bemused reply, but yet she sighed, shrugging off her coat slowly.

At the edge of the duraplast plate that was meant to cover her torso, there was a burn and carbon scoring on the plate itself. The tough outer fabric of the coat had been burned through, and the bolt had burned through that layer even partially into her own actual shoulder. The fabric of her shirt had been burned, and was a fierce, angry red in deep contrast to the rest of her skin. There were two options, to remove the shirt in its' entirety, or to cut off the sleeve.

She forced herself to look at it. It wasn't as bad as it could be; she would maintain good motor function, and it would hardly scar. But it was a nuisance.

"Cleanse wash, and then a thin layer of bacta," she said with a sigh. "But you'd have to remove some of the fabric to treat properly. It's fine." All the while, amber eyes would watch. Even from this distance, he was radiating heat, and she felt the need to press into him, to feel past the numbing shock of what she'd done earlier, but it felt juvenile, ridiculous to want such a thing. They had to keep professional distance; this wasn't some barhall meet.

And yet... this wasn't the first time he had dressed the Doctor's wounds. It was... nice... not to have to do things alone. Not that she'd ever say it out loud.

@TerranSteel