Summary: "He wants to blame whatever dust lingers in the air for the reason his eyes water, but he knows that it's the pain coursing through his body that causes it." On a planet in the Outer Rim, Tech is severely injured in a rockslide. His brothers do what they can to help him. One-shot.
Over The Edge & Back
The ground is wet, the air smelling of rain, the clouds in the sky are slowly clearing. Clone Force 99 stands on some rocks, a good ways up a mountain. They're down low enough that the rocks aren't wet, though, and the water on their armor has long since dried even though mud cakes their boots and grime covers their armor. But they don't mind.
They can see the Havoc Marauder from there, and it won't be long before they finally make it back to the ship. A matter of minutes, perhaps half an hour at most, from Tech's calculations. But they've paused for a break anyway.
Wrecker is going on about some of his greatest hits from the mission they've just completed, and the others are pretending to be interested, occasionally adding in a correction or two. He and Crosshair get locked in a debate about who downed the most droids, and the others roll their eyes.
Tech crosses his arms, smiling lightly to himself, and glances out over the flat stretch of land below them, where the Marauder awaits their return.
Hunter catches his gaze. "I think it's time we get moving. The sooner we get to the ship, the more of a breather we have before our next mission."
The others mumble their agreement, though Wrecker complains that a break's no fun.
They're starting to climb back up to the route they've been using when Hunter suddenly stops, frozen, his head up and alert. "Wait."
Crosshair scowls. "I thought you wanted to get back to the ship."
"Get off the rocks." The sergeant orders, snapping into a faster pace than before.
Tech remains rooted to the spot as the others snap to action, following Hunter back up the slope. He frowns, not detecting the danger. As he opens his mouth to call up to them, he feels it.
The rocks are beginning to shift beneath his feet.
Rockslide!
Unnerved, he scrambles after the others, who are nearing their path at the top of the rocks. But the rocks are beginning to slide, and he can hear some rumbling behind him, tumbling down the slope.
The rocks at the top, where the rest of the squad's already made it to safety, begin to topple over, rolling down towards him.
He meets Hunter's gaze, a feeling of doom blooming within him. The others slowly look up as the rumbling of the rocks grows louder, spotting him where he's stopped his climb.
"Tech!" Wrecker's voice booms, carrying over the sound of tumbling rocks.
But there's nothing anyone can do.
Tech's able to dodge the first few outcasts, maintaining his balance on the rocks beneath him as they, too, move. Then he's overtaken by a flood of large rocks, knocked off of his feet in the blink of an eye. A strangled yelp escapes his throat as he topples down the mountainside, rocks slamming and rolling overtop of his lean frame.
His armor is useless for the most part, though his helmet does seem to protect his head from getting smashed into oblivion.
A rock slams into his gut, stealing his breath away. There's a sharp pain deep within his torso, and he can only gasp in agony as he keeps rolling down the slope in the river of rocks, head over heels, not an exposed part of him untouched by crumbling granite.
His hands claw uselessly at the rocks, trying to find purchase on anything he can grasp. But there's nothing, and even if there was, it would be a rock rolling overtop of him.
He begins to wonder if he's going to die. He wonders what the others will do without him.
As more rocks slam into him, hitting his limbs and legs, he loses all sense of time- loses track of how long he falls, loses track of how far down the mountain he's falling as each hit takes more from his body, more energy, more strength, more of his life force.
He coughs, and he thinks he can feel blood welling up in his throat- if it's not blood, then he's about to vomit.
His goggles crack, a sound that makes him wince almost as much as each slam to his body.
Well, this is certainly not how I thought I was going to die, he muses.
He thinks he feels one of his knees bend the wrong way. It hurts- he knows that it hurting is an understatement, but his jostled brain can't come up with a better word to describe all the agony he's going through at the moment.
Then his hand closes around something- something that's not a rock- and his arm snaps taut, his body jerking to a painful stop that almost tears his arm off. Rocks continue to roll overtop of him, and the only thing he can think to do is to raise his other arm to shield his head the best he can.
He closes his eyes, tries to take deep breaths. You're going to be fine. Hunter and the others will be here momentarily, and they'll pull you out of this mess. Then we can go home and enjoy perhaps a couple of rotations off before they deploy us again.
He can hear his blood roaring in his ears, feel his heart slamming against the confines of his ribcage, and knows that this is a moment that will be in his nightmares until the day he dies.
It feels like an eternity before the rocks stop coming, before the dust settles and Tech can finally bring himself to move. It turns out to be excruciating- but what can he do?
He drags himself up from his belly, to his hands and knees. The ground here is flat enough so that he won't slide down the hillside. His arms shake uncontrollably beneath him, and his neck aches as he tries to raise his head to seek out his brothers in the trees lining the open space where the rocks had dragged him. His head pounds, and he can't breathe.
He makes a guess that it's a concussion and trauma that affect those two aspects of his troubles.
He all but rips his helmet off, almost doesn't stop it from rolling down the hill, almost goes with it when he launches himself after it.
He coughs horribly, his chest racking painfully, and blood sprays out onto the dirt of the sloped cliffside. He realizes that he's wounded far worse than he initially thought- something internal has been ruptured. I could...I could die here.
He sinks back, letting his knees fold up as he rests his forehead on the ground, a sense of defeat flooding his weakened system.
He's going to die.
He's going to die.
He's going to die.
"Tech! Hang in there!"
He manages to lift his head at the sound of Hunter's voice, peering into the trees on his left through the cracked lenses of his goggles.
He sees the sergeant skidding to a halt at the edge of the open slope, Wrecker and Crosshair on his heels. He vaguely wonders where Echo's run off to.
"Wrecker, with me." Hunter cautiously steps out onto the slope, but this area is flattened out a bit more than the rest. Wrecker obediently follows, slower, and tries to distribute the weight of his hulking mass the best he can. The sergeant kneels down beside Tech, rests a hand gingerly on his shoulder. "We're gonna get you out of here, Tech. I promise."
He blinks back doubtfully.
His brother's fingers find the straps of his goggles, begin to slide them from his head.
"No, don't-" Tech chokes out, a weak hand swatting at Hunter's arm.
"Tech, the last thing you need right now is glass in your eyes."
He can't really argue with that, he decides, sighing as he gives in.
The world is blurry without his goggles, and he hates it immediately.
"Crosshair, come get his gear."
The sharpshooter nimbly steps out onto the bare slope, quickly makes his way to Hunter's side to pick up Tech's helmet and goggles. Tech doesn't watch him, it hurts too much to lift his head any higher, but he can feel Crosshair's eyes on him.
"He's dying, Hunter." Crosshair says, as Tech coughs up more blood. "He won't make it long enough to get to Kamino."
"Don't say that." Hunter snaps. "He's going to be fine."
Tech wishes he could believe him.
He wants to blame whatever dust lingers in the air for the reason his eyes water, but he knows that it's the pain coursing through his body that causes it.
Wrecker sits down beside him, pulls him onto his lap and loosely wraps his giant arms around him. He fights back a wave of dizziness as his brain pounds against his skull, but relaxes into his brother's hold.
He lets the tears quietly fall from his eyes.
Crosshair averts his gaze and remains standing, but Hunter only moves closer.
"You're going to be fine, Tech." His voice is soft, on the verge of shaking. "Echo'll be back in a minute with the ship, and you'll get a nice bacta bath when we get back to Kamino."
Tech looks away, gazes out over the plains below.
It's beautiful, he decides, even though he can only really see it in blurs. But it's a better sight than the face of a battle droid hovering over him, and that's what he'd always expected to see when he died.
His family is here with him, keeping him close. He's not alone.
"Hunter..." He pauses thoughtfully. His voice is hardly above a whisper. "Thank you."
Hunter rests a hand on his shoulder.
He loses consciousness, the touch of his brothers being the last thing he feels.
He wakes up once during the flight back to Kamino. He's in so much pain, his body so weak, that Echo has to sedate him.
He's alone when he wakes up again, laying on a gurney with tubes sticking into his body.
His heart starts pounding, many bad memories coming to mind as he realizes where he is. He hates it here. He wants to leave. He wants Hunter to come and unhook him from all the machines in the room, to take him back to their barracks.
The sound of the heart rate monitor speeds up, becomes more insistent on gaining attention, and he closes his eyes to take a deep breath to steady himself. Don't panic. Breathe.
The sound of the door sliding open makes his eyes snap open, his head jerk up.
It's Echo, accompanied by a hovering little medical droid. With that realization comes the one that he's wearing a new pair of goggles.
He rests his head back, relaxing.
"Tech." Echo lets out a breath of relief, hastening over to his side. "How are you feeling?"
He has to take a moment to think about it. Other than dull throbs in his left knee, his head, and his chest, he feels fine. His eyebrows raise- sometimes, he forgets how well the Kaminoans' medical technology is.
"Oh, right- hang on." His brother reaches over and carefully pulls the tube that runs down his throat free so that he can answer. The droid protests, but he ignores it. "That's better."
Tech smiles. His voice is strong. "Thanks, Echo."
Echo's eyes light up briefly at the sound of his voice. "You gave us quite the scare. But, I'm glad to see you awake. How're you holding up?"
"I feel fine." He assures him. "A little sore, but nothing that won't go away in a rotation or two."
"That's good, then. We have three more left, before we're off of leave."
"We're on leave?"
"Tech, you were crushed within an inch of your life. How could they not give us time to recover from that?" Echo asks pointedly.
"That's valid." Tech concludes. "How are the others?"
"Worried." He sighs. "They haven't been allowed to see you since we brought you in. The Kaminoans are only letting me because I diagnosed most of your injuries and had done what I could for you before we arrived. You know, they had to realign almost half of your ribs."
So that's why his chest is sore. "You can tell them that I should be out of here soon enough."
His brother smiles. "I will. You heal up, I'll come visit you again later."
Tech never walks near another cliffside after that, not unless he absolutely has to. He thinks he's afraid of rocks now.