Guys - you get a really early update, because after seeing the final trailer, I wrote most of this chapter in about two hours. :D Then I watched the premiere, and then I decided that I really didn't want to keep this update until Friday.

Tech gripped the steering yoke in both hands and watched tensely as the massive stormbeast writhed on the ground, lying on its scaled stomach, but twisted so that its open jaws pointed at the flashing sky. The forms of Tech's companions, tiny in comparison to that of the screaming monster, lay scattered between it and the Phoenix.

A sudden wave of vertigo made Tech lean forward, releasing the steering yoke with one hand to clutch at the control panel. One part of his mind told him that he couldn't pass out – he'd crash – while the other part was busy trying to figure out how the creature's scream was affecting him so badly despite how the sound was deadened by the sealed doors. Of course, he realized, focusing sternly on the blinking altimeter. The audible part of the scream isn't affecting me, but the frequencies that are too high and low to hear are. If I don't do something, the others may suffer permanent damage!

Gritting his teeth, he straightened and tilted the ship down, bringing the forward cannon online. His usual precision could not be trusted at the moment. It was fortunate that the stormbeast was so large . . . He aimed the gun in the general direction of the creature's torso and jabbed the firing control.

The heavy laser pounded into the stormbeast's upper chest, and the rending scream cut off abruptly. When his vision cleared, Tech took more careful aim and sent a triple-blast into its throat.

The stormbeast's massive head slammed back into the ground, and its twisted limbs stiffened, then relaxed. Tech initiated the landing sequence, running a scan on the monster just to be sure. It was dead.

As he hurried to the door, Tech put his helmet on and commed his squad. "Hunter, come in. Hunter! Crosshair? Wrecker, can you hear me?"

There was a faint buzz of static, as though someone had tried to transmit, but nothing else.

Tech slapped the door control and rushed out into the storm. The greenish lightning was increasing in frequency. Between the brilliant flashes, the darkness was all the more complete, and his helmet lights seemed strangely dim. With an impatient huff, Tech turned back into the ship and adjusted the floodlights to point at the Phoenix.

As he ran out the door again, a sudden gust of wind shoved him back, and he clutched at the doorframe, barely keeping himself from falling off the side of the boarding ramp. The storm was getting worse, and when a jagged bolt of emerald lightning struck the ground not a mile away, Tech knew he was running out of time. It would be a miracle if the ships were not struck.

"We need to get inside the Marauder!" he shouted over the sudden crash of thunder, just in case the others could hear him. Again, no one responded.

Stumbling and slipping as the wind gusted around him, Tech made his way to the Phoenix and glanced around to get his bearings. There – only a few feet from the stormbeast's head.

He dropped to his knees and shook Wrecker as hard as he could. "Wake up!" he shouted, pulling off Wrecker's helmet.

Wrecker stared up at him, dazed but conscious. Tech sat back in relief – of the team, Wrecker would be the most able to help, by far. "Wrecker?"

"What . . . happened?" He took a breath, then turned onto his side, coughing hard.

Tech jammed Wrecker's helmet back on. "Sorry!" he apologized. "Hurry, we've got to get the others to the Marauder! The storm's getting worse."

Wrecker nodded and got to his knees, then grabbed Tech's shoulder. He managed to stand, then slipped sideways and fell, dragging Tech down with him.

Tech rolled aside just in time to avoid being crushed. He struggled upright and reached out a hand. "Try again, and this time don't squash me!"

"Didn't," grunted Wrecker, getting laboriously back to his feet. "Was doing fine until you moved."

"I didn't move," argued Tech, although judging by how dizzy he was he might very well have tilted to one side or the other.

"Wait – I got it," said Wrecker, adjusting himself so that only half of his weight was on Tech's shoulders. "Just give me a minute."

"We don't have a minute!" Tech retorted breathlessly, doubly grateful now that Wrecker was conscious. He'd never have been able to drag him to the ship. "Come on, Hunter's right over there."

"We can get him on the Phoenix."

"No," said Tech. "The Marauder is capable of withstanding multiple lightning strikes, but I don't know about Vythia's ship."

Wrecker staggered to a halt beside Hunter. "It'd probably be just fine," he muttered, reaching down to grab their sergeant's wrists. With a sudden heave, he hoisted Hunter to one shoulder. "I've got him. You find the others."

Tech shook his head. "I should go with you – the wind's getting stronger. I almost fell off the boarding ramp."

Wrecker hesitated, wavering in place. Reaching carefully down with one hand, he pulled a stim shot from his belt and jabbed it into his neck, right through his blacks. A few seconds later, he straightened. "I got this, Tech. I feel better already."

Tech hesitated, then nodded. "Hurry."

"I'll be back," Wrecker said, and set off at a steady walk for the Marauder.

Putting his head down against the wind, Tech stumbled over to the doorway of the Phoenix. Vythia lay crumpled, both arms wrapped around her face, and her head was resting on the boarding ramp. "Vythia?"

She stirred and moaned. Tech hoisted her to sit upright against the ship, making sure her face was turned away from the wind.

Quinlan and Crosshair lay only a few feet away from the stormbeast's head. It looked as though Crosshair had tackled the Jedi to the ground, and then neither of them had been able to stand. That, or they'd simply slipped and fallen. Quinlan was lying on his side, face turned downward; the fact that the sniper was half-draped across his shoulders and pushing him into the ashy ground wasn't helping matters.

Tech tugged Crosshair off and grabbed Quinlan's wrists, hauling him into a sitting position. A sudden clap of thunder made Tech jump, and he glanced back toward the Marauder, wondering why Wrecker was taking so long.

Then something screeched below them, and Tech almost shouted in irritation as he remembered the other stormbeasts. The stupid things would probably come outside, now that the predator was gone – as if this entire situation wasn't already bad enough!

Tech dragged the Jedi a couple of feet back and leaned him against the stormbeast, then stomped back to Crosshair and repeated the maneuver. He was dizzy again, his side was hurting, his squad mates were injured, they were all in yet another potentially fatal situation, and he had to stand here and do nothing. Fuming, Tech drew both pistols and kept watch, almost hoping that a stormbeast or two would come out.

Crosshair started to shift, muttering something under his breath. Tech had just taken a step toward him when Wrecker yelled, "I'm back!"

Tech jumped about a foot and had to repress the urge to yell at his squad mate.

Wrecker didn't notice his annoyance. "Can you get Cross on your own?"

"Yes." Tech holstered his pistols. "Where's Vythia?"

"Already got her onboard." Before Tech could quite register that he'd failed to notice when that had happened, Wrecker dropped to one knee and shook the Jedi. "Hey. You awake?"

When Quinlan failed to respond, Wrecker hoisted him to his feet and hurried toward the ship.

Tech slung Crosshair's rifle over one shoulder and tightened the strap, hoping that he wouldn't trip on the long weapon. "Crosshair, come on. I'm not dragging you all the way back."

"Couldn't if you tried," gasped Crosshair.

Tech rolled his eyes, but didn't waste energy arguing Crosshair's absolutely invalid statement. "Well, unless you want to be electrocuted to death, I suggest you move."

Crosshair got as far as his hands and knees before freezing. ". . . Earthquake?"

"No," said Tech, then jumped again at a sudden clap of thunder.

"Ground's moving."

A triple-flicker of green lit up the sky again, and Tech tugged harder at Crosshair's arm. "We've got to hurry. Come on, the ground isn't moving."

"Is," insisted Crosshair. He was being even less wordy and more argumentative than usual.

Tech lost patience and dragged him forcibly to his feet. "Trust me, Crosshair, it's not moving. You're just dizzy."

They made it a fantastic seven steps before Crosshair doubled over and ripped off his helmet, gagging and heaving.

Maybe dizzy was an understatement, Tech thought ruefully, gulping as his own nausea reasserted itself. "Hold on, we're almost there. Just a bit farther . . ."

Another bolt of lightning struck not a hundred meters away, and instantly a splitting crash sounded, reverberating in the air all around them. Tech and Crosshair reached the boarding ramp, staggered up to the door, and fell inside.

Wrecker stepped over them and shut the door. "I got the shields up," he said. "We'll have to wait to leave till the storm's over, though. Visibility's getting worse."

Tech rolled over to lie flat on his back and stared up at the ceiling. "That's fine," he said. "Let me know if the situation changes."

Wrecker took off his helmet and looked doubtfully down at him, blood trickling from one of his ears. "What are you doing?"

Tech moved, just enough to untangle himself from Crosshair and shove the sniper rifle off his shoulder. "I'm staying right here until the storm passes."

Quinlan slouched at the galley table, rested his head in his arms, and tried to imagine a perfectly still, flat piece of land. Near the Adas Academy, for example – that was nice and flat . . . No, that didn't work at all. They were on that land right now, and the rocking and spinning sensation hadn't abated in the least.

"What if we take off and fly in circles?" he mumbled into his sleeves.

"What?" answered an equally exhausted voice.

The Jedi risked opening an eye. Hunter was slouched down across from him, looking every bit as miserable as Quinlan felt.

Quinlan gestured vaguely with one hand. "If we take off and fly in circles, maybe we'll feel like we're flying in a straight line . . .?"

Hunter looked up, briefly interested before his mind caught up with him.

They both slouched down again.

It had been hours since they'd woken up on the shuttle. Vythia wasn't as badly off as some of the others – probably thanks to her being a Nautolan and all, since Nautolans were equipped for fast movement under deep water . . . Water wasn't the same as air, but there was something about pressure and sudden change. Tech would probably know more of the differences between Nautolans and humans, but –

Quinlan paused, unsure of where that train of thought had been leading. Oh, right, Vythia had woken feeling sick and dizzy, but not to the extent that some of the others had been. As soon as she felt able, she'd insisted on returning to her own ship – that was probably just as well, considering that half the stuff on the ship was labeled with the Republic insignia. Good thing she'd never left the cockpit.

The ship deck spiraled away beneath him, and Quinlan's stomach tried to crawl up his throat. He drew a deep breath and willed it to stay firmly where it belonged. Crosshair and Hunter between them had already done enough vomiting for the whole team, thank you very much.

Cautious footsteps approached and paused near the table. It was definitely Tech again – he'd stopped by every quarter of an hour or so to check on him. Quinlan lifted a hand in an attempt to show that, yes, Tech, he was alive and more or less conscious, and now would you please go away.

Hunter showed a bit more alacrity. "Tech," he asked. "We headed out of here soon?"

"The storm hasn't let up," said Tech, slumping down next to the sergeant. "We could still try flying, though. Wrecker says he's feeling back to normal, though I suspect the stim shots may have something to do with that."

"Wrecker, stop taking stim shots!" Hunter barked, the effect rather muffled by the fact that he was still talking into his arms.

"I'll relay your message," Tech said, a bit sarcastically. "He did only inject two, though."

". . . Still."

"Yes."

Something beeped faintly – probably the chronometer. Quinlan wondered what time it was, but he wasn't truly interested enough to actually turn his head and look.

"Are either of you feeling any better?" Tech asked.

"Yep," rasped Hunter.

"I think maybe?" said Quinlan.

"Hm. I'd be surprised if that were true," said Tech. "You have a ruptured eardrum."

Quinlan tried to think through the possible ramifications of that and came up with exactly nothing. "So . . . What, I've got vertigo for life?"

Tech actually laughed. "Wrecker already gave you a bacta injection. Untreated, that type of injury could take several weeks to heal, but you should be back to normal in a few days."

Quinlan groaned. "Any chance I can put myself under until then?"

"For three or four days? I wouldn't recommend it."

"Well, no, but –" With an effort, the Jedi straightened, keeping the edge of the table in a tight grip. ". . . Looks like I'm down for the count either way, though. I won't do much good moping around like this."

"Oh," said Tech, blinking. "No, the severe vertigo shouldn't last much longer. I would estimate a couple of hours, at the most."

"Thank the Force."

A sudden flash and boom made everyone jolt. Hunter shook his head once as though to clear it, then froze. Yeah, that movement probably hadn't been one of his best decisions ever.

"That makes the second lightning strike," said Tech. "This storm is surprisingly intense."

Wrecker entered the galley with a handful of water bottles and dumped them on the table. "Nothing to report on scanners," he said, sitting down beside Quinlan. "Vythia's ship took a direct hit, but doesn't have any damage. Nothin' much is happening otherwise."

"Honestly? I'm glad to hear it." Hunter poked at a water bottle with one finger. It tipped over and rolled sadly across the table. Everyone watched disinterestedly as it neared the edge, then rolled off and hit the floor.

Quinlan shut his eyes again. After another minute and a half of silence, he felt around for a water bottle, just to give himself something to fidget with. Then he opened his eyes, glanced over at his companions, and regretted it wholeheartedly. "Hunter? You're literally upside down."

". . . No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," hissed a voice from the doorway. Crosshair was clutching the doorframe as though his life depended on it, but when Wrecker started to stand, the sniper released the door and moved unsteadily over to the table.

"No, I'm not," said Hunter, shutting his eyes and turning a bit pale. "And I wish you'd stop saying things like that."

"Nobody is upside down," said Tech. "That is impossible in these circumstances."

Crosshair looked unconvinced, and Quinlan couldn't blame him. In fact, he thought that the old saying 'seeing is believing' was firmly discredited by this situation. Of course, the hundreds of beings who thought the Force didn't exist also kind of discredited the statement – or . . . something.

"There's probably a flaw in my logic somewhere," he mumbled.

Tech blinked.

Quinlan changed the subject before he could ask. "Hunter . . . What went on with that stormbeast? Vythia was pretty upset about something."

"Yeah, I'll bet." He paused as though collecting his thoughts.

Tech glanced up at Crosshair, who was standing just behind him, then at the narrow end of the table between Hunter and Quinlan, which had the only empty spot. Quinlan was just going to slide further in when Tech dropped to his hands and knees and crawled beneath the table. A second later, he reappeared on the bench to Quinlan's left. "Yes, what did happen?" he asked.

Crosshair sat down at the place Tech had just vacated. "The plan didn't work the way we thought."

"No," the sergeant agreed. "Getting the stormbeast's attention with the lightsaber didn't work at all. That creature didn't move a muscle until Crosshair and Vythia came out, but then I think it got confused. You guys were all pretty close to each other."

Hunter rubbed his forehead. "When it ignored you, Vos, after going after you in the first place, I figured it had gone after the wrong target. Then I remembered how fast the stormbeasts found us after Vythia pulled that shard out of the vault."

Quinlan straightened a bit. "You figured that the shard was what got its attention, so you went and grabbed it."

"Yeah – took Wrecker and me a bit to recover from that first scream," Hunter admitted apologetically. "But it was the only way I could think of to get the stormbeast to swallow the bait."

Quinlan gave an impressed hum. "Good thing you figured it out."

"Minus the part where I misjudged the timing on the detonation," Hunter said.

"I don't think you did," Tech replied. "That stormbeast was immensely strong. It took four shots from the forward turret to really kill it. We didn't have particularly powerful explosives available."

"We'll bring the big ones next time," Wrecker promised, cracking his knuckles.

"Next time?" muttered Quinlan.

"It would make sense to prepare for the worst," Tech observed calmly. "Particularly since we are only halfway through this part of the mission, and already we've gotten in a good deal of trouble."

"Not just me, then," Quinlan said, rolling the water bottle slowly along the table. "I gotta say – my missions are usually a lot more boring than this. A lot of tracking, trailing, watching . . . Not so much the life-and-death situations."

"Same," said Crosshair, giving him an unreadable look. "We're always in fights, but we've never had an escape this close."

"Huh." Hunter sounded as though he'd just realized something. "You're right. Ever since the mission began . . . That thing with Grakkus was pretty touch-and-go, Dverik was worse. And now this."

Quinlan shoved the water bottle to Hunter, who stopped it automatically. "So, I guess the real question is, whose fault is it?"

Wrecker picked up a bottle and rolled it to Tech. Hunter rolled the other one to Quinlan. Quinlan rolled it to Wrecker. Tech rolled his to Crosshair and got one of his own.

"I dunno," said Wrecker uncaringly. "Probably your fault, Vos."

"Yeah, maybe . . ." He sent the bottle skittering across the table into Tech's and willed the table to stop tilting. It didn't work. He focused on Hunter instead. "I told you I'm used to working alone. Not an excuse – just . . . I haven't always thought of telling you guys all the mission-relevant data. So, before I forget, there are a couple of things you should know."

Hunter gestured for him to continue.

"When Vythia took that shard out of the vault, it was like an explosion of dark side energy. Way stronger than the urn – good thing I already had my shields up, because otherwise we'd have had a lot of explaining to do."

"Hm," said Hunter. "The vault was shielded in some way?"

"Yeah. I guess that would also explain why the stormbeasts showed up so quickly afterwards. Not sure about the big one, though . . ."

"What's the second thing we should know?" Tech asked, typing something into his datapad.

"I could sense you guys in the Force after the stormbeast swallowed the artifact."

"Meaning you couldn't before?" Tech inquired.

"Right. For the most part, while we've been on Malachor, I was keeping my shields pretty strong – even more so after the shard was retrieved."

Crosshair shoved the water bottle towards him. "What do shields do?"

Quinlan caught the bottle and rolled it over to Wrecker. "They keep the dark side from . . . invading? Yeah. From invading my mind. The trouble is, they also dampen my own Force abilities."

Hunter nodded thoughtfully. "Good to know. It's not like you can really use those abilities on this mission, though."

"Not openly, no."

Crosshair leaned an elbow on the table and rested his head in one hand. "That might not be the case for much longer."

Quinlan met his gaze. "You think Vythia's getting suspicious."

"Yeah."

"Nuts. I was hoping I was just being paranoid."

"Cross is pretty paranoid," Wrecker told him reassuringly.

Crosshair shot Wrecker an unamused look. "She's watching Vos closely. Asking questions."

"I noticed that, too," said Hunter. "She might only suspect that he's unknowingly Force-sensitive."

"I could work with that." Quinlan drummed his fingers against the table and started to stand, then sank back down. "Ugh. Maybe I'll just stay here."

Wrecker glanced around, then leaned forward to collect all the water bottles. "Hey, I brought these for drinking, not playing with!"

"Quinlan started it," said Crosshair snidely.

The Jedi looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, that was mature."

Hunter put his head back down on his arms and ignored them. Tech rolled his eyes and stood. "Unless there's something else, I'm going to run some checks on the engines. I want to ensure the lightning hasn't caused too much damage. Wrecker, you can check the turrets."

He crawled back out from under the table and set off, either not noticing or not caring about the querying looks Crosshair and Quinlan sent after him. Judging by how observant he usually was, Tech probably just didn't care.

Wrecker followed him. "Aw, Tech, come on. The lightning hasn't even stopped yet!"

"It's not as severe," said Tech, vanishing into the cockpit.

"Yeah, but if we get hit again –"

"It's not very likely –"

There was another flash and boom, and then a very long silence.

"See?" Wrecker demanded.

Hunter snorted, but didn't move.

Quinlan rested his chin on his arms and looked carefully around. Huh, the motion does seem to be slowing down a little . . .

Crosshair fidgeted with the water bottle, started to open it, then changed his mind and sent it skidding across the table again.

Quinlan, who didn't feel inclined to sit up straight again, leaned forward a bit to stop it with his chin. "Ow."

"How long until the storm dies down?" Wrecker yelled from the cockpit.

"I don't know," said Tech. "The weather patterns here are so inconsistent . . . I would estimate a few hours at the most."

"What time is it, anyway?" Quinlan asked.

Crosshair started to turn, then glanced at the one on his comlink instead. "Twenty-three forty."

"Later than I thought."

"Mm."

"Probably won't be heading anywhere until morning at the earliest."

"Probably not."

Quinlan flicked at the water bottle again. "It's going to be a long night. This place is really . . . I dunno."

"Negative ten," Hunter murmured.

"What?"

"Take off two for the big stormbeast."

"Oh. Right."

Tech, who had just entered the galley, raised an eyebrow above his goggles. "And definitely one for the lightning storm."

"And – wait, did we already cover the ash storm?" Quinlan asked.

"Just the ash," said Crosshair.

"Okay, so we'll take one more off for the storm itself. Negative twelve."

Tech nodded seriously and typed for a moment.

Quinlan squinted at him. "You're actually keeping track?"

"Yes," said Tech, and left the room again.

Just a couple of observations, since before watching the premiere I was afraid I'd have to change the characterization of my 'version' of the Bad Batch to keep them right. (None of us exactly had a lot to go on for writing back when we only had the four episodes.)

Spoiler warning, I guess?

It appears that Tech is not afraid of needles, and that Wrecker dislikes them. I don't think I'll change this detail in my stories, since people can grow or train themselves out of phobias. I'll just pretend Tech used to have it. Also, I have a feeling Wrecker yelled a lot about it because they were safe, but during the battle he didn't exactly react much to being shot. :)

On the other hand, there were several things that were so close to my . . . shall we call them theories? that it was a little freaky. :D And awesome.

1) Tech is a complete brat.

2) Hunter knows someone's looking at him even when he has his eyes closed.

3) Wrecker shoves Tech around.

4) Crosshair notices particular details! I'm thinking of the part where he told Hunter that most people would look down, not across. :D

5) Tech is a complete brat. I mean, wow. :D He was almost worse than Crosshair, and if it hadn't been for the chip (Dee Bradley Baker does say that the activation changes the character's temperament) I'll bet Tech would have beaten Crosshair.

I loved it. :D