Hunter returns to the Marauder as night falls over Lothal City. He walks in, closes the ramp behind him and sits down in one of the chairs. The others gather around him. The new ration boxes sit unopened on the floor. Omega's small hand finds its way into his. Hunter takes a deep breath and squeezes her hand in his.

"Anything?" he asks Tech, who's hacked into the patrols communications channel hours earlier and has been listening in for any arrest.

"Nothing. Well, nothing that would match Echo's description, or the man we sold him to," Tech says bluntly.

Hunter flinches. He appreciates Tech's "we" but knows the responsibility rests with him. He's had hours waiting alone at the rendezvous to reprimand himself and second-guess every single decision he's made since fleeing from Kamino. Omega's small hand squeezes his gently, and a knot lodges in Hunter's throat.

"You should have let me come," declares Wrecker. He is hunched over and rubs his hand repeatedly over his bandaged side. "I could have been, you know, what's that word?"

"Stealthy?" Tech supplies.

Wrecker's eyebrows go up and he nods. "Yes. That one! I can do stealthy," he says. "I don't like it, but I can do it." He sighs. "I'm not just the smashing guy!" he bursts out. "I can be other things." He sighs again. "I mean, we've got to watch out for each other, and if that means doing that stealthy stuff, then that's what we do." He slams his fist against the bulkhead for emphasis.

"We should have had one of us follow Echo from the market," Hunter admits. There was too much Empire presence. Too many variables. But he can't give in to self-reproach now. That would be useless to Echo. "Tech, possibilities?"

"Incapacitated on planet or out of range, or unable to contact us," Tech lists. He's condensed it down, because frankly, the list he made in his head is long, mostly unpleasant, and not for Omega's ears.

"Can we scan for him? His implants?"

Tech tilts his head to the side. He's thought of all this already, but he's learned long ago that he still needs to explain himself in words to the others. "I've amplified the communications array to expand the range and sensitivity, but if he is in or around Lothal City, there is too much interference. If he leaves the city, before he gets too far, we might get a ping. It's a stretch," he adds.

"First thing in the morning when curfew lifts, we will go back to the market and start a search on foot," Hunter decides. He looks up at Wrecker. "All of us."

Wrecker nods and straightens a little. His hand stills on his bandaged side.

"Tech, can you access citizen records or street camera surveillance recordings?" Hunter asks.

"From an access point in the city, yes," Tech replies. He's already thought of where and how, and prepared extra equipment. Echo, of course, would be infinitely more efficient at facial recognition scans, but paradoxically unavailable. The inefficiency of Echo not being there to do it himself frustrates Tech, which in turn confounds him by being utterly irrational under the circumstances.

"Hey, guys?" Omega interrupts. "What's that light flashing there? I've never seen it lit before."

Tech turns and looks where Omega is pointing. It is a small blue light on the underside of the communications panel. It's easy to miss from up high, but visible at Omega's height. Tech's eyes narrow, then he jumps into the pilot seat with a shout.

"What is it, Tech?" Omega asks.

"I've been slow like a reg!" he mutters to himself. "It is," he starts and then pauses and dives under the console with his manual scanner. "If I am correct," he starts and then pauses again. He sits on the floor, the scanner plugged into the console, and a series of letters flash across the display. "A message!" he exclaims. "No. Make that, three messages!"

"From Echo?" Omega asks. She holds on tighter to Hunter's hand.

"From Echo," Tech confirms, glancing up at them, and then he takes off his glasses and wipes his face with the back of his forearm.

Trey swivels her chair and looks at the passengers huddled in the back, including Salm.

"Well, he is used to someone else driving him around," Trey confides quietly to Echo. "I suppose he did his best."

"Hardly," Echo replies, and she smiles and swivels back to the front. He strategizes how to get her to smile again. He also wonders if droids ever initiate small talk. "Do you make a habit of breaking into detention centres?" he ventures.

"Hardly," she echoes him, but her smile slips quickly away. "Not before the Empire came to "liberate" Lothal. I was just a commercial aircraft technician. I was recently reassigned to their military base. But I don't want to work for the Empire. Not unless I am useful on the inside."

"It's dangerous work, being useful on the inside," he warns her.

"I don't see any other way around it," she replies.

"You could run," he nods towards the passengers.

"I don't know where I'd run to, nor do I have anyone to run with. I might as well be useful." She looks somewhat wistfully at Salm's family huddled together. She turns back to Echo. "Do you make a habit of breaking into detention centres?" she turns his question back on him. "You certainly knew what you were doing back there."

"I've assisted several extractions," he admits vaguely.

"You were by far the most qualified of us today," she tells him, and he bows his head.

"I was made for it," he tells her with a shrug. It is not a lie.

"Thank you, Echo," she tells him.

"You are welcome, Trey," he replies, testing the sound of her name on his lips.

"I'm going to close my eyes for five minutes. It's still over half an hour to Gar Eett where we meet our transfer contact."

"I'll take the helm," he tells her without waiting to be asked.

She leans back in her seat, tucks her feet under her and closes her eyes.

"Who is the transfer contact?" he asks her.

"All I know is that her name is Rafa," Trey tells him, her eyes closed. "Rafa Martez. She'll take them from here, help them relocate."

Echo's eyebrows go up under the visor, and he wonders at the smallness of the galaxy. He watches her face longer than necessary before turning to the controls.