Omega never learned to swim, but that didn't seem to be a problem as she buoyed along Kamino's surface. The ocean cradled her with steady hands on her head and back, gentle kisses across her cheeks and between her fingers. Distantly, she was aware of the Kaminoans watching her, looking down from the platform's edge, but Tipoca City was so far away. Everything was so far away. It was easy to close her eyes and pretend that nothing existed except the ocean and the sun.

It turned out that real, actual sunlight was amazing, nothing like the UV treatments she endured on a daily basis. Even with the few clouds that drifted across the horizon, Omega felt it's warmth seeping into her bones and gifting her its strength. She could drift like this forever, safe and content in the ocean's embrace with the sun watching over her.

Then there was a sound. It tore through the atmosphere, echoing in every direction. Omega's heavy eyelids snapped open, frantically searching for the source of the horrible noise. The clouds overhead churned and thickened, taking the light and her strength with it. A shadow weaved across the blackening sky, its familiar silhouette making her gasp.

The Havoc Marauder.

She tried to reach out, signal to the team that she was there, but her arms wouldn't move. The ocean's gentle caress became a strangling grip as her limbs were pulled down. She screamed and thrashed, eyes locked on the distant promise of home and safety. She cried out for her brothers, certain, somehow, that they would hear her.

A blaze of blue light cut through the haze as the Marauder's hyperdrive roared to life. Omega's heart stopped.

"Hunter!" She screamed and gagged as a wave crashed over her. She fought her way back to the surface, saltwater scraping her lungs. "Don't leave me!"

The waves reclaimed her, forcing her down, down, down into the black water. Omega went limp as the currents toyed with her, shredding her equilibrium to pieces. Somewhere above her, the Marauder's light grew more and more distant until finally it was gone, and she was alone in the endless, swirling blackness.

Omega's world is still spinning when she fights off the blankets, saltwater burning her throat as her stomach heaves. She scrambles to the edge of the bunk, missing the first rung and tumbling over the side. Her wrists and knees take the impact, a shooting pain she can feel in her teeth. Part of her welcomes it, glad to feel the solid durasteel beneath her feet as she staggers to the fresher, though it's a short-lived relief. The moment she's through the doorway, her legs give out and her face is in the toilet, arms braced on either side as her body turns itself inside out.

Omega has felt sick before, but this is excruciating. Blood is pounding in her ears, her lungs burn, and she wonders if she's still drowning. Sweat runs down her face and into her mouth. The taste of salt mixed with the acid on her tongue is almost too much and she swears she's about to faint.

"You're forgetting to breathe, again." Crosshair reprimanded as Omega lined up her next shot. "If you pass out, I'm not carrying you back to the ship."

Omega grits her teeth and sucks in a breath, forcing herself to hold it eight seconds before exhaling. When her muscles finally relax and her stomach is no longer in her throat, Omega sits back a bit, arms resting on the rim of the toilet. It takes a moment for her tired eyes to focus on anything in the dim light, but when they do, her gut turns again in horror. Vomit sticks to the sides of her sleeves. She must not have pulled them back far enough, reflexes dulled by her disorientation.

Omega's vision blurs with tears, the thrum behind her eyes now a relentless pounding. Stars, she's so pathetic. The certainty of it is an iron fist around her lungs, leaving her chocking and gasping for air. She hangs her head in shame, only to realize she'd gotten sick all over the front of her shirt, as well.

"Karking shit." She practically sobs, wishing a black void would appear on the floor and suck her in.

She doesn't register the sound of footsteps until it's too late, and then Echo is in the fresher doorway, voice heavy with concern. "Omega?"

More tears escape at the thought of what she must look like to him, trembling over the toilet, crying and covered in sweat, her own sick all over her clothes. A pitiful "sorry" forces its way out of her mouth before her muscles contract and she's retching into the toilet.

Echo is in the cockpit, rereading the information Tech had sent to his datapad before their shift change. Every couple of minutes, he reminds himself to unclench his jaw, a habit he's had since he came out of the tube. Fives used to poke him in the cheek to try and break it but Echo still falls back on the habit when he's stressed. It's not like anyone could blame him, right now, as he thumbs through Tech's report. How many kriffing plagues can there be in one solar system?

With a sigh, he shuts down the screen and settles back in the copilot's seat, resting his eyes when a ragged gasp startles him to attention. He whips around to see Omega plummet face-first over the edge of the gunner's nest. His stomach drops, but the girl twists just in time to land on her hands and knees, hard.

Echo flinches instinctively, but Omega doesn't stop moving. She hauls herself upright, swaying as she limps into the fresher. Seconds pass and all Echo can do is stare, his brain failing to recognize this reeling, wounded creature as Omega. After a few false-starts, his instincts kick in and he's across the Marauder in two heartbeats, vaguely aware that his brothers are beginning to stir in their bunks.

He's almost at the fresher door when a sound causes his hearing enhancements to short-circuit. "Karking shit." Omega weeps, her voice abraded. Echo is stunned. In the months they've been together, Echo can only think of three times that Omega has actually cried. Once when she'd nearly been mauled on Saleucami, dozens of emotions she didn't have names for coursing through her system. Next, when she had escaped capture from Cad Bane, the confused tears of a child caught in the crossfire of something so much bigger than themself. The third and final time was on their return from Daro, her shoulders shaking in silent rage as they were forced to leave Hunter behind.

Listening to Omega now, Echo knows this is something different, something pained, and it's breaking his heart. He softly calls her name, reluctant to confront whatever's on the other side the door.

His nose processes the smell before his eyes can adjust to the dim light. It doesn't faze him after all he's seen during the war, but his worry for her sharpens into something fierce. She's managed not to get sick anywhere on the floor, though some vomit sticks to her sleeves and collar. The blonde hair she usually can't mash down is now plastered against her forehead, skin shining with sweat and crimson with fever.

She takes a few strained breaths before offering a weak "sorry." Then her whole body convulses, shoulders lurching forward as if they're compelled by the Force, and she's gagging into the toilet. Whatever block had taken hold of Echo's mind finally dislodges and he immediately drops to her side. He pushes her hair back with his left hand – her skin burning, even through his gloves – and with his scomp arm rubs tender circles across her back.

"It's alright, kair'ta." His voice is soothing despite the ache in his chest. "I've got you. It's alright."

Omega whimpers as violent tremors rack her body, teeth chattering from the intensity. Echo's mind is running at warp speed, trying to come up with a plan, when suddenly his whole aliit is jammed in the doorway. Besides Tech, everyone is in their blacks. They all look as panicked as Echo feels, but before they can bombard him with questions, he leaps into action.

"Cross, go get a pair of blacks from the hold. Tech, grab the medkit. Wrecker, go with him and crack open some chill pacs." The three soldiers scatter as if he's just tossed a grenade. "Hunter, can you go refill one of the canteens and bring it here?"

His leader doesn't move, face contorted in a myriad of emotions that Echo can't read. "What happened?" He demands, though his voice holds none of its usual authority.

Echo feels for his brother but keeps himself reticent. "She fell out of her bunk and she's throwing up. We're taking care of it, just go get the canteen."

Hunter's eyes flash and Echo's almost sure he's about to push the ARC trooper aside to get to Omega. He doesn't though, knowing the best way to help her is to do as his vod says, so the sergeant simply nods and leaves without complaint. Once he's gone, Omega turns her head as if she's only just registered that anyone was there.

"Oh no." she moans.

"What?" Echo asks in alarm. "What's wrong?"

She hiccups miserably. "Woke every'ne up."

He blinks at her, utterly baffled. That's what she's upset about, not that she's probably sicker than she's ever been in her life or that the beings who created her didn't care enough to protect her with a simple vaccine. She's upset about interrupting their sleep cycles.

If Echo wasn't already in love with this kid, that alone would have done it. "Shhh, kair'ta." He gently runs his thumb across her temple. "It's not your fault. Besides, Tech's snoring is a hundred times more disruptive than you being sick." The corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly and being able to relieve some of her discomfort – small as it may be – makes Echo's heart swell.

Hunter rematerializes in the doorway, followed by Tech and Wrecker. Crosshair leans in to show that he's got the extra clothes but decides to wait outside. Starship freshers are already small, but the Marauder is ridiculous.

Setting the canteen on the floor beside them, Hunter locks eyes with Echo. "What do you need?"

The clone hesitates. There is some deep, feral instinct telling him not to leave Omega's side even for an instant, but she'll get the care she needs faster and more efficiently from someone with two hands. He shares a look with Tech. The other clone nods in understanding and moves forward as Echo draws back to stand beside Wrecker.

Opening the medkit, Tech sinks to his knees and offers Omega a rehearsed but genuine smile. "Ok, Omega. The first thing we want to do is get you out of this." He grabs the clean sides of each sleeve. "Can you pull your arms in, please?" The girl does as she's told, squinting at him through swollen, hypersensitive eyes. With meticulous ease, Tech pulls the soiled tunic up over Omega's head. He carefully folds the garment so that the mess is kept on the inside.

Wrecker sets the activated chill pacs in the sink and extends his hand. "Here, I'll take care of it."

Tech hands the shirt over. "Remember to soak it with the –"

"I know, I know, I know!" Wrecker protests, but clamps his mouth shut when Omega recoils. "Sorry, Meg." He amends in a whisper.

Tech shakes his head as the hulking clone disappears before turning back to his vod'ika. Even in the muted light of the fresher, Tech can see the severe flush staining her cheeks and forehead. It stretches down her neck and across her chest, every inch of skin gleaming with sweat.

Tech works very hard to keep his tone light. "Alright, let's get you cleaned up." He rummages through the medkit for a pack of sterile cleansing wipes. Pulling one out, he extends his hand just shy of Omega's cheek. "May I touch you face?" He asks. The girl nods weakly and Tech follows through, gently cupping her face as he wipes around her mouth and chin.

After a moment, Tech realizes that her whole jaw is trembling. He pulls back slightly to see thick, reluctant tears streaming down her face. " 'm sorry." She sniffles, exhaling harshly through her mouth. This upsets Tech for a number of reasons, not the least of which being that she does not need to deal with nasal congestion on top of everything else.

Tech tosses the wipe he'd been using and grabs a fresh one. Slowly, making sure she can see what he's doing and has time to react, Tech cradles the back of her head with one hand and with the other holds the cloth up to her nose. "Blow." He commands, and she tries, though there's little force behind it. He grabs another wipe and runs it down her neck and along her collar bone and shoulders.

"You do not need to apologize for being ill, Omega. Your adaptive immune system has not been exposed to as many pathogens as ours have, so it's to be expected that your body's response is more extreme."

He runs the cloth down the length of Omega's arm, turning her wrist over to ensure there is no vomit sticking to her skin. The young clone hisses, trying to pull her hand away. "What hurts?" Tech insists.

Omega crushes her lower lip between her teeth, desperately trying not to make a sound. After a few measured breaths, she admits in a clipped tone. "Wrist… fell… hurts…"

Tech's brows knit together. "Did you hit your head when you fell?"

The answer comes from Echo. "No, she landed on her hands and knees."

Tech nods, carefully turning Omega's hand in his so that her palm is facing up. At the juncture of her wrist, the precursor of a bruise is already forming. Her other hand looks much the same.

"We'll put a chill pac on that in a minute." Tech assures her. "Crosshair?" His vod leans through the doorway, tossing him the extra blacks. "Arms up." He tells Omega, pulling the material over her head.

The girl gazes down at herself. " 's too big." She observes, rubbing at her tender eyes. The sleeves hang at least a foot past her wrists, further illustrating her point.

Hunter steps forward and Tech makes room as the sergeant kneels in front of her. "It'll do for now." He says, rolling up one sleeve and then the other. "We'll get you some new clothes later."

His voice doesn't betray how kriffing wretched he feels. Tonight is merely one more addition to Hunter's long list of child-rearing failures. How could they not have done something about her clothes already? This kid has gone into literal battle with them in what are essentially cadet togs.

Hunter is still lamenting over this fact when he notices the way Omega is shifting – almost imperceptibly – on her knees, biting down again on her lip. Her breathing changes, tight and almost robotic, like she's trying to imitate natural breathing instead of actually doing it.

Hunter's anger is eclipsed by an aching need to fix something. He places what he hopes is a steady hand on her shoulder. "You landed on your knees too, right kid? Let's have Tech take a look at 'em."

Bending multiple laws of physics, Hunter manages to slip around her so that his back is against the wall and Omega is settled in his lap. She's briefly hesitant, still trying to act like she has a handle on the situation, but the strength of Hunter's embrace and the warmth of his body are too inviting, and she melts against his chest.

He strokes her hair while Tech rolls up her pant legs to find the beginnings of what promise to be some nasty bruises. Echo hands them a few chill pacs while Tech powers up the medscanner.

"102.9," He announces with a frown. "Given her age, that is still not considered high, though it is on the borderline." He opens another compartment and pulls out a blue capsule. "I'm giving you a fever reducer, Omega. It's a bit strong for someone your size, but it's all we have." The girl doesn't complain as she forces the pill down with some water.

Crosshair finally steps in, folding his arms as he slumps against the doorway. "Should we take her somewhere?"

"At this point, I believe that is an overreaction." Tech says, packing up the medkit. "If she doesn't respond to the fever reducer or isn't able to keep food down, then we should re-evaluate."

Crosshair nods and moves to leave when Omega croaks his name. The clone pauses, narrowing his eyes apprehensively. His brothers collectively shoot him a look, though Omega doesn't seem to notice.

" 'm sorry I woke you up." She rasps, voice waning with each syllable. Even muddled by fever and tears, her gaze is earnest as it captures his.

Cross wavers for a split second. In spite of all he's been through, Omega is still the only person that can truly catch him off guard. He recovers quickly, saying with a shrug, "Not like you can get much sleep with Tech onboard, anyway."

The brainiac looks offended, but Echo laughs. "See, Meg? I told you."

They decide to keep two people on watch, one to monitor the cockpit and one to monitor Omega. Crosshair volunteers for the former while Wrecker assigns himself as Omega's nurse and heat source. After a stern lecture from Tech about 'symptomatic behavior,' Wrecker takes the now-sleeping child from Hunter's arms and wraps her, Lula, and Trooper up in a blanket. Together, they settle onto the lower rack, Omega snuggling into Wrecker's broad frame.

Echo and Teck take the other racks. For a moment, Hunter considers joining Crosshair in the cockpit, but figures that's the last thing the sniper would want. He could set up in the hold, but the fixed seats are hell on his back. Eventually he gives up and climbs the ladder to the gunner's nest, assuming Omega won't mind.

They really do need a bigger ship.

It's not necessarily a tight fit, though his feet do hang off the edge. All in all, it's actually quite comfortable. Hunter has to hand it to Wrecker, for someone so keen on destroying things, he's pretty crafty.

The walls of Omega's bunk are covered in sheets of flimsi; targets she drew herself that Crosshair helped her destroy, specifications about the ship for her to study, even a few pages of notes in Mando'a as she picks it up from the team. Hunter can't help but think of the Lawquane children and the drawings they occasionally sent the Batch on Kamino, pictures of Shaeeah fighting giant monsters or Jek piloting his own starship.

That's what Hunter wants for Omega, to dream and create and not feel like everything she does has to be for a purpose. Clones have never been given that chance, but maybe, maybe, there is still time to salvage Omega's childhood into something she deserves.

Hunter's eyes continue to roam over the pieces of flimsi when he spots a set of drawings he hasn't seen before. They're crude sketches of clone trooper armor, with the addition of a kama and several utility belts that were not standard issue. Hunter sits up to get a closer look and can't help but smile at the small Lula drawn in the corner of the chest plate.

The shoulder pieces, rerebraces, and chest plate are all white while the rest of the armor is their traditional black with accents of red. When Hunter notices the helmet, his heart twists at the distinctive half-skull design. A vice closes around Hunter's chest and for a few minutes he can't get a full breath. His world is spinning as he lowers his head into his hands.

He has no idea what he's doing. Omega has been in their care for months, and this is the first time they've considered karking essentials like medicine and clothes. Cut had joked that Hunter didn't know what he was in for, but the clone is ashamed at just how much he still needs to learn.

Barely an hour has passed when Omega is pushing off of Wrecker, nearly tripping over the blanket as she darts into the fresher. This time she hugs her arms to her chest, trying not to dirty the blacks even though they're spares. Her vomit is clear – nothing left in her stomach to empty – but it burns all the same. She's devastatingly weak, though her spine remains rigid, abdomen contracting with each wave of sickness.

In lieu of a bucket – the closest thing they have onboard is an empty fuel canister – Omega spends the rest of the night on the fresher floor, cradled in Wrecker's arms as she drifts in and out of sleep. They try and get her to eat something, but her miserable pleas make them back off. At some point Wrecker becomes Echo and Echo becomes Hunter. He presses a cool rag to her forehead and it's such a relief, Omega wants to cry.

" 'nter …" she whimpers, "…hurts."

"I know, kid." She's too delirious to note the anguish in his voice or the way his breath catches as he holds her tighter. "I'm sorry."

Sunlight has just begun creeping into the cockpit when Tech approaches them, holding out a syringe. "This is an antiviral." He explains. "I modified the dosage for her size." He lowers himself on one knee and gently pulls at Omega's shoulder, regretful to wake her from much deserved sleep. The young clone stirs with a groan, hardly opening her eyes. "Omega," Tech says, showing her the syringe, "may I have your arm?"

It takes a moment for her to focus on the needle. When she does, her eyes snap open, pupils blown wide. "No, no, no." She stammers, digging her heels into the floor and leveraging herself as far into Hunter's arms as she can. "No, please. I'll be good. Please, no needles." Her voice is shrill with terror and it's clear her mind is far away from the Marauder.

"Hey, it's okay." Hunter says softly, though his voice betrays his fear. "It's okay. It's just one, and it's Tech. Tech would never hurt you, know you that."

Omega doesn't seem to process any of this, continuing to struggle in Hunter's grasp. Tech's heart drops into his stomach but he maintains his resolve. "I'm sorry, vod'ika." Gripping Omega's arm, Tech forces her into stillness as he injects the medication. Her face pinches in discomfort, a small cry whistling past her lips. "There." He says, setting the syringe out of sight and rubbing her arm tenderly, praying that she will forgive him.

The tension leaves her body in a rush. Her endurance ran out hours ago and she has finally emptied her reserves. Her heavy eyelids fall closed as her head lulls against Hunter's shoulder. "don't like needles." She slurs.

Hunter's sigh is bone-weary. "None of us do."

Tech runs featherlight knuckles across Omega's cheek, frowning with displeasure. "She's going to dehydrate if we can't get her to keep fluids down. We have an IV bag, but I'm not sure she'll let me hook her up."

Hunter considers this, staring down at the child in his arms before he can bring himself to look at Tech. "Can you give her something to make her sleep?" It's not something he asks lightly. They've all endured their share of involuntary sedations, but they have to get fluids in her, somehow.

Tech nods and rises to his feet. When he's gone, Hunter pulls Omega impossibly closer, resting his forehead against hers. His ribcage feels like it's about to split apart, but he wills himself to breathe. "You're gonna be okay," he whispers, "I promise. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

Omega's whole body stirs with the effort to speak. "Hunter." She mewls, desperate and frightened like a loth-kitten crying out for it's mother. Hunter would give anything in the galaxy to never hear it again.

He shushes her, kissing her hair. "It's alright. We're gonna take care of you. We've got you, it's okay."

Exhaustion pulls his eyes closed, but he fights them open again when Tech comes back with the sedative. The brothers share a look before Tech inserts the needle into the side of Omega's neck. She stiffens, a half-formed sob escaping her throat before her eyes roll back and she slumps against Hunter, breath finally falling slow and even.

There's a sigh of relief throughout the ship, though no one believes their troubles are close to over. Hunter is reluctant to let Omega go but allows Tech to take the girl from his arms. He cradles her with a gentleness Hunter wouldn't have thought he was capable of, but maybe that says more about Hunter than it does Tech.

Echo already has the IV hooked up and ready to go when they lay Omega down on the lower rack. Tech secures the tube inside the crook of her elbow while Wrecker settles her other arm around Trooper and Lula. As the larger clone tucks her in, Tech goes to retrieve the medscanner. He can feel his vode watching him as he takes Omega's temperature, even Gonky waiting anxiously at the end of the hold.

"103 exactly." Tech reads off the scanner. "Her temperature hasn't jumped significantly, which is positive. The antiviral I just administered should help."

Echo says in a rush before he's even finished, "We should take her somewhere."

Tech sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose where his goggles sit. "Fevers take time to break. We don't want to overreact and risk putting ourselves in a compromising position."

"But what if it is more serious than just a cold?" Echo presses, looking to the others for support. "We don't think Omega's received any vaccinations and she's been to three different systems in the last week alone."

Tech holds up a finger while he pulls out his datapad, briefly skimming his notes. "I have a few hypotheses for what this may be, should her symptoms persist or deviate from a standard virus, and most of them will require treatment in a proper medical facility, which the Empire will be strictly monitoring."

Crosshair makes a low noise of displeasure. "Could we try somewhere off planet?"

Tech shakes his head. "I do not think that Omega is well enough for space travel of any duration."

Wrecker cuts in. "Maybe Cid knows somebody we can go to."

"Absolutely not." Hunter growls. "I'd rather Omega been seen somewhere with decent care than any of Cid's lackeys."

Though he agrees, Tech feels the need to point out, "We all had brain surgery in a shipyard." Hunter sends him a withering look that he ignores. "If the situation does come to that, we will need to obtain a new chain code for Omega. We lost the one I forged on Saleucami and it will be the first thing they ask for if we take her to a regular hospital."

"Kriff." Wrecker bellows. "How are we supposed to do that?"

Tech toggles to a different folder, the groundwork of a plan already laid out. "Imperial presence here is not nearly as strong as it was on Saleucami. We wouldn't be staying here if that were the case, nor would Cid likely stay in business. If we locate the nearest base of operations, I suspect we will easily be able to sneak in and grab the chain codes."

Crosshair picks his gaze up off the floor, saying with more than the usual gravel in his voice, "If you can get us a location, Hunter and I can scope it out tomorrow before our supply run. Get the lay of the land and report back."

Tech nods, though he turns to Hunter for the final word. They all do. Hunter doesn't think he's ever felt less like a leader, but his doubts can't interfere with their mission now, not when the objective is Omega's wellbeing.

"Everybody rest up. We move out in a few hours."