The Mother Mudhorn
Chapter Summary: A hunter gets Hunted. The lead scoundrel thinks he still runs the show. Tech presents to Marauder's newly established ER department. Things go boom.
Chapter Notes
Behold, a big chapter! I actually narrated a tiny piece from Wrecker's perspective; sorry if it's wacky! Has anyone ever read The Sound the Fury by William Faulkner? Kinda reminded me of the famous Benji chapter.
**Trigger warnings for any bounty hunters reading this who've ever had their ****s smashed to a ****** ruin**
Hunter climbs up the misshapen access ramp and creeps into the main compartment of the enemy shuttle. These bounty hunters weren't messing around when they chose their vessel. It's an uncommonly large ship for a trio of brigands working outside the law, and he and the Batch have plenty of ground to cover. Plus, infiltrating an alien enemy ship, and through the front door, no less, isn't exactly the safest thing to do in the galaxy. He decides that he and Wrecker should stick together for now and start working through the compartments one by one until they find their brothers… or at least someone to point them in the right direction.
They venture deeper into the ship, intruding with a simplicity that makes the whole affair more suspicious. Easy had said there would be four hostile, armed sentients- all with lengthy rap sheets. Plus, the two prototypical, beefed-up commando droids would make a minimum of six to contend with. Since at least one bounty hunter and one droid are already neutralized, and there's one extremely spiteful sharpshooter on the loose upstairs, they're likely making good time.
Hunter uses the eerie quiet of the passageway to engage his senses to their fullest, scrupulously combing his surroundings for any traces of Tech and Echo. He can hear Wrecker's impossibly robust, steady heartbeat close behind him and feel the reverberation of his vod's heavy footfalls. He digs ever deeper: smelling, tasting, feeling…
We're not alone.
He hears another heartbeat in their midst. It's three-chambered, so not another human, and it's intimately close to both he and Wrecker at this very moment.
Another hunter, he realizes—a very skilled one.
He signals for Wrecker to hold his position as he intensively observes everything in their immediate vicinity. Except for the noises born from his body's autonomic functions, their stalker is silent and likely has a visual of their every move. A cold, tangy taste registers and Hunter recognizes the species from only having encountered it once before now.
It's Trandoshan, he decides. A mature, male Trandoshan.
Then he finds another, more familiar scent in the air. It's faint, further away, and it is human.
Human, possibly clone, blood, Hunter suspects. It's fresh, there's a large volume of it, and it's sure as hell not leaking from Wrecker.
At that moment, he decides that he and the big guy should split up. Hunter will lure the Trandoshan predator away so that Wrecker can make off in a direction leading toward the source of freshly-spilling blood.
Not Echo's blood.
No-their ori'vod's hybrid anatomy causes his blood to present a more stringent, uniquely synthetic aspect. But Hunter's not sure it's coming from Tech or Crosshair because Easy's intel specifies that the leader of this ambitious little gang is human too. In any case, the source will be a good lead for finding his missing brothers, so Hunter decides they need to explore it. He signals to Wrecker, instructing him on a path that should lead him toward intercepting it.
Always eager for some more action, Wrecker follows Hunter's orders without any hesitation. The big clone nods, turns down the indicated hallway, and stomps off in the direction of the mystery bleeder. Now, what Hunter needs to do is draw the Dosh out of the shadows, neutralize it as a threat, and then catch up with Wrecker. For that, the first thing he needs to do is pinpoint this elusive predator's location.
Hunter hears the Trandoshan tasting the air with a keen, reptilian tongue- the equivalent to the actions of the clone commando, himself. Dosh are famous for being exceptional trackers and huntsmen, yet all clone troopers can't reasonably be expected to possess the tracking prowess that Hunter's mutations afford him. These criminals have already gravely underestimated Clone Force 99 by thinking they could capture two Bad Batch members without reaping disastrous consequences. This tells Hunter that the Trandoshan is overconfident and could just as well be expecting the clones to all be easy prey. He decides to encourage this dire misconception by playing right into it.
The moment Hunter identifies the Trandoshan's exact whereabouts, he gives no detectable indication of his discovery. He continues to expertly scan his surroundings, clear rooms, and check recesses; seemingly unable to find the stalker prowling in his midst. In reality, thanks to his genetic aberrations and this Trandoshan's woefully lacking hygiene, Hunter's now expertly appraised of the enemy's position.
"Eyes on Echo," Crosshair murmurs cooly over comms.
Copy, Hunter responds to him in tap code. He's ecstatic with that report but can't let himself get distracted by the immense relief it brings to him. He needs to stay focused.
He concentrates on the durasteel framing of the corridor and detects some type of structural void. Investigating further, Hunter finds evidence of a large maintenance conduit running along the passageway on the starboard side. It feels wide enough for someone Wrecker's size to squeeze through and Hunter realizes it's what the Trandoshan's using to follow him.
Looking ahead, Hunter sees that the passageway is nearing a juncture and he doesn't want to risk the existence of any more advantageous hiding options for his stalker. He also gets a whiff of that human blood again, but this time, it's in the form of spatter and it's on the Trandoshan's person. Unless there was a recent mutiny or unless Crosshair made his latest report from the afterlife, this means that the blood's pretty much guaranteed to be Tech's. And whether the Dosh donned it attempt to mask his own scent, or it's just there by happenstance, it's elemental proof that his youngest vod's been wounded in some capacity.
So, this little game they're playing needs to end right here, right now.
Hunter decides to set a trap by giving the Dosh what appears to be a favorable opportunity to strike. He weighs a few options that include pretending to fiddle with his gear or adjusting a seal on his armor. The choice is made for him when another comm comes through the integrated network of his bucket. He ostentatiously holsters his blaster and reaches up with his left hand to help sharpen the incoming transmission.
"Secured Echo," Crosshair reports icily. "These fucking slobs kriffed him up. We're headed back to Marauder. He says Tech's one deck below main, being held in their brig, over."
"Copy," Hunter tells the sniper when he could have easily rogered up nonverbally again.
He releases the key to his mic but keeps his left hand pressed against his helmet as if he's going to continue the dialogue. He then knowingly turns his back to the same bulkhead that's concealing his enemy behind it, and discreetly grabs the hilt of the blade sheathed on his forearm.
Likely expecting the clone sergeant to be distracted by further conversation, the Dosh takes the bait. Hunter barely has time to dodge out of the way when a powerful arm, equipped with three deadly claws, swipes at him from a gap in the paneling. At least two of the talons would have gouged his entire throat out if Hunter hadn't ducked away in time.
The Trandoshan wasn't expecting to miss his mark and has neglected to devise a Step Two or a Plan B. Having used a small ventilation gap to swipe at his prey, he's now boxed in by the edges of the opening.
As soon as Hunter drops out of range, he whirls and reaches up to slash at the clawed arm using his own well-honed blade. He hears a menacing growl of frustration when the Dosh misses him, followed by a loud, angry roar as Hunter lops the bounty hunter's scaly limb clean off, just above the wrist. The dismembered, clawed appendage, spins lazily through the air, before it lands with a wet thud, mere meters away from Hunter's own boots.
This would be a career-ending injury for many bounty hunters, but for a species capable of regenerating limbs, this doesn't even guarantee the end of the fight. In fact, all it seems to do to this particular outlaw is make it angrier. Hunter, sensing a swell of immense fury, is caught off-guard when the enemy he just maimed rams straight through the bulkhead and into the corridor to meet his prey head-on. Maybe this Trandoshan's had a rough day and is already at his tipping point... because Hunter didn't anticipate that a seasoned pro would retaliate in such an impractical, reckless fashion.
Startled, Hunter barely rolls out of the way when the Trandoshan bursts impulsively out into the passageway, towering over the clone in a snarling, hungry rage. Unrelenting in his attack, the Trandoshan lunges, and swipes with his remaining arm. The raw wound of his scaly stump has only barely begun to coagulate, but this doesn't seem to slow the Dosh's frenzied attacks- if it even does so at all.
Hunter scurries backward, struggling to get his feet under him, but manages to dodge all the lethal, close-quarters assaults. The Dosh roars with fury, his pointed teeth glinting in the low light of the passageway, his orange eyes alight with a madness that would make even a Jedi shiver.
After evading several more crazed, chaotic offensives, Hunter loses his balance on the edge of some loose deck plates. He stumbles backward, slamming his back up against the bulkhead at the end of the corridor in the process. The blood-thirsty, yellow monster has chased Hunter down the entire length of the hallway, and now has him effectively cornered.
All of the air in Hunter's lungs is forced out in a fleeting rush when he collides with the wall, and he has little time to react to further incoming assaults. He's about to reach for his blaster when he's overcome by a massive wave of electromagnetic energy. The pulses are strong, almost debilitating, and it's obvious to him that there's a powerful electrical source hidden just behind the rusty paneling of the bulkhead he's pinned against. It's a large supply of energy, and there might just be enough juice in it to put an end to this savage dance.
Hunter takes a deep breath and hesitates just long enough to make himself a very vulnerable-looking and tempting target once more. The frustrated, ravenous Trandoshan takes a swing mightier than any of the others before it. It's a wicked blow, capable of easily splitting Hunter from collar bone to groin in the time it takes most people to blink. And it certainly would have, if not for the commando's incredible agility.
Instead of hitting the intended target, the Trandoshan slashes his beskar-like talons deep into the bulkhead and imbeds them into the high-voltage switchboard housed just beneath it. In an instant, the electricity used to power the compartments and equipment on the entire level is diverted into the bounty hunter's body. The Dosh's snarling ends abruptly, and the only sound Hunter can hear for several seconds is the buzz of several thousand volts turning a sadistic predator into nothing more than a giant, charred lizard carcass.
Hunter watches the adversary's body jerk and spasm for another few seconds before he takes out his blaster and puts two rounds in the Trandoshan's head to end his burning misery. He doubts that the ruthless crook would have given him, or any of his vode, the same courtesy.
Eventually, the panel trips to prevent the level's electrical system from being completely destroyed, though it's far too late for the bounty hunter. The once-skilled killer's body lies in a rigid, smoking heap and his forked, black tongue is lulling grotesquely from his slack mouth.
Panting and still keyed up on adrenaline from the struggle, Hunter takes one last look at the remains of the Trandoshan just to confirm there's nothing left of him to be regenerated. Once Hunter verifies what he'd already suspected, he collects himself and abandons the darkened corridor. It's past time that he tracks down Wrecker and that they locate Tech.
It's a challenge to smell anything other than the overwhelming stench of fried Dosh and melted equipment, so Hunter quickly puts more distance between himself and the acrid, smoking, electrical mess. Before long, he picks up on both Wrecker's scent and that same scent of human blood. Tracking both to their respective sources, he notices that corridor labels indicate that he's also being led in the direction of the ship's brig.
Just moments earlier...
As soon as they're safely within the confines of the Marauder, Crosshair carefully shifts Echo from the gravsled to one of the large, padded seats in the main cabin. He then reclines it as far as it'll go and tucks an emergency blanket around Echo's shivering frame.
It's obvious to Echo that he's been sitting too long in an unhealthy position for the ride over, and getting his achy, frozen limbs to start moving again is both extremely difficult and very painful. Not only do his cybernetics and prosthetics seem to be fighting him, but his organic composition is utterly spent as well. He barely has the energy to watch as Crosshair retrieves one of their ample, recently restocked trauma kits and places it on the bench within Echo's reach. He feels lethargic as he watches Crosshair disappear briefly to the pilothouse; likely to prime the Marauder for take-off and send Hunter an update.
Echo lets his impossibly heavy head fall sideways so he can peer at the medical supplies beside him. He might as well help himself to some basic first aid while Crosshair's busy upfront. At the very least, he should slap a pressure bandage on his shoulder wound before the dour sniper slinks back aft to complain about how battered the ARC is. Reaching out to unlatch the hermetically sealed container, Echo's hand trembles so badly that he promptly abandons the idea. He's more likely to spill the precious, sterile contents of the kit on the deck than he is to deploy them anywhere helpful. Just the one, nominal action is grueling, and Echo lets his quavering arm fall back to his side, contenting himself with simply staying awake.
He blinks, and Crosshair's back, neatly unpacking the contents of the kit while casting concerned glances at Echo over his shoulder. He sifts through a few items and then returns to Echo's side, peering at him intensely with his omniscient eagle's eyes.
"I need to scan you and take your vitals," the sharpshooter says. "You going to swing at me if I come near you with medical devices?"
"N-not by accident," Echo mutters.
"Fair," Crosshair allows, a slight smirk tugging at his narrow mouth. "When's the last time you ate or drank?"
When Echo discloses that the last time he drank was during the original hostage rescue mission, Crosshair swears so colorfully, that even the seasoned ARC trooper is shocked by some of the content. The sharpshooter quickly sets up an IV with normal saline and nutrients, and consults the designated data pad filled with special notes about how to render basic medical care to Echo. They do have the approved text on providing first aid to "cybernetically enriched" individuals downloaded to Marauder's mainframe, but it has little utility for the Batch members. Echo's augmentations are so extensive and unique, that he's well in a class of his own, even for those trying to be politically correct.
"You're in a lot of pain," Crosshair says, presenting a sterile autoinjector for Echo's inspection. "This'll help."
Echo peers at the label on the packaged analgesic.
"Half," he petitions. "Just a half-dose."
"Full," Crosshair insists. "The notes say it's safe. And it's recommended."
"Great," grumbles Echo with a scowl. "So, I should call you nurse, now?"
"I'd rather you not call me at all," Crosshair snarks, pointedly injecting Echo with the entire dose of pain reliever. "Unless you buy me a whiskey, first."
"Ugh," Echo scoffs at him. "I'm not buying you shiiiii-ohhhkay. Okay, that's… yeah, that-that dose works."
The analgesic rapidly takes effect and Echo starts to feel less irritable and less tense as the most severe pain ebbs away into mediocrity.
"Got the quality stuff from Resolute," Crosshair informs him with a shrug.
Quality stuff indeed. After another minute goes by, Echo feels only a numb tingling where stabbing pains had recently prevailed, and he's able to focus more on the situation.
"Let's get medical supplies ready for Tech," he tells Crosshair as he's suddenly moving to sit up. "I'll heave out and clear off a bunk if you wanna go get some cryo plasma out of deep freeze."
"Not a kriffing chance," the sniper says, pinning Echo down flat in the seat with scarcely more than the strength of a single finger. "Numbing some of the pain doesn't mean you should be moving. You're excessively karked right now. You need rest."
"I can't, Cross," Echo insists, weakly trying to swat his brother's hand off his chest and failing. "Not while Tech's… he's gonna need… I should…"
"He'll be fine," Crosshair says. "But I won't if he finds out I let you prance around in the state you're in."
"I don't prance," Echo huffs, trying his own luck with deflecting. "That's just the way my kama moves."
"Well. That explains it," Crosshair drawls cynically, not taking the bait. "Still not gonna risk an incessant Tech Lecture for letting you be a simpleton. Hold still."
Crosshair rummages around and locates another sterile package containing a hypo with a sedative. He starts unwrapping and prepping it without bothering to show Echo what it is this time.
"Not sure I want you sticking me with any more needles," Echo complains.
"Aww, no?" Crosshair pouts, with the most aggravating mock-sympathetic tone that Echo's ever heard. "Pity."
Before Echo can grumble at him again, the sharpshooter sticks him deftly in the neck.
"Oh youuu… fuckerrrr," he slurs, his tongue curing into solid duracrete as drool trickles from the corner of his scowling mouth.
The last thing Echo registers before sleep takes hold of him is the dark, melodious chuckle of his insufferable brother.
B-R-I-G. Brig?
Brig.
That's what the sign says, anyway. And if Wrecker doesn't know any better, that'd be the first place you'd wanna stash a prisoner. He's seen some of the brigs on big bases and ships and knows that's where you put someone when you really don't want 'em to go anywhere. So maybe it's where the bounty hunters are keeping Tech and Echo!
There's some painted arrows pointing the way to it, so it's easy enough to find. He passes a fork or two and has to take a few twists and turns away from where he split off from Hunter. Then, he goes down a ladder well, and past a few more compartments until he comes to a room that's gotta be the brig. It has a big, sturdy door guarding it— one that'd be hard to ram through, and there's a panel of fancy controls and buttons on the wall right outside of it. Yep, this's gotta be it!
Wrecker rushes over to the entrance and tries to look in through the window portion of the door. But, ugh, what a mess! Seems like somethin' serious happened inside and he must have just missed out on the fun because there's still something leakin' and some debris settling. Looks like the ceiling fell down and he can make out the silhouette of a big pile of mess just below the carnage. There's also oil or grease splattered all over. It's even dripping on the window, making it harder for him to really get a good look at all the stuff inside the compartment.
But what else besides mess is in there? It's gotta be something important if that's where some action happened! And this is the brig, so he'd be a lousy brother if he didn't make sure he checked.
Wrecker presses his helmeted face up to the glass and uses both hands to peer through the grimy window, trying to see anything through the swirling dust and heaps of rubbish. Looking more closely, he thinks he recognizes a few of the items splayed out on the deck close to the door... He thinks he sees a black, rubber strap connected to a round, black ring.
Huh? Why's it feel like he knows what that is?
Wrecker focuses even harder on the mess and, with a great gasp of revelation, he figures out what he's starting at. There should be two black rings, and there should be tinted, blurry glass inside them. And they should be on Tech's eyes, helping him see like he's supposed to. If his goggles are there, then is Tech in there too?
Without a second thought, Wrecker slams the butt of his rifle so forcefully into the reinforced transparisteel viewport that it shatters like rotten ice. It's not a large enough opening for him to use to get into the room, but removing the glass helps him get a much better visual of the cluttered scene within.
Now he's able to see a big mound of busted ship equipment that looks like it fell out of the big hole in the deck above. Staring at the rubble, his eyes land on what looks like a pair of dirty, bloodied, hands trying to wriggle out from under the pile of wreckage. And, they look about the same size as an average clone trooper's.
"Tech?" Wrecker calls into the compartment. "Tech! You in there? It's me, Wrecker. Uh, I'm here too now, Tech. Tech?"
A low, pained groan comes from somewhere under the heap and the fingers on the mystery hands start to move a little more frantically.
"Tech!" Wrecker calls again. "That you?"
The pile of rubble shudders and some of the material shifts away from the hands and onto the floor. Then, Wrecker hears a painful, wheezing cough.
"Wre-" says the clone trapped in the pile, coughing painfully some more. "Wr-reck…"
At that moment, Wrecker's sure he found his youngest brother, and his stomach lurches knowing that Tech's in there trapped under all that!
"Tech!" he roars. "Hang on, buddy! I'm coming! Oi Echo? You in there too, mate? Jus' hang on!"
He suddenly remembers the flashy, lit-up control panel next to the access, and he looks to see if he can get the door to open like it's meant to. But, across the screen is just a jumble of phrases that don't really make much sense to him. After pushing a bunch of different buttons, all he gets is a gloomy beeping noise telling him he's doing it all wrong.
"Baggggh!" he bellows furiously at the panel, barely resisting the urge to smash it. "How do I get this stupid thing open!"
Wrecker doesn't get an answer to that but wouldn't be able to hear one anyway over the sound of his own shouting and attack on the door. In a frenzy to get to Tech, he rams up against it again, and again, and again, calling out "Hang on, Tech!" into the compartment once every few collisions as he works.
After beating on the door for a couple of minutes, it finally starts to buckle near the middle, and Wrecker attacks the dent with a fever of kicks, more rams, and punches. He destroys his rifle using it as a breaching tool, but he doesn't care. All he cares about is getting to Tech.
At long last, the once formidable door gives way, and Wrecker launches himself into the messy room. Breaching the compartment took longer than he thought because, now, someone else has dug themselves out from the clutter and is in here with Tech. And it definitely isn't Echo…
Tech's free from under the pile of rubble and broken machinery, but he's being held captive in the clutches of the human bounty hunter. It's the one that Easy said was the leader of the pack and responsible for this crime and a slew of others. He's gripping Tech in front of him like a shield. Tech's wrists are bound in front of him and the enemy is gripping the cuffs with one hand while using the other to hold a blaster under Tech's chin. Wrecker is absolutely rabid with rage.
Wrecker knows for a certainty it's Tech, but he can hardly recognize the disheveled, battered, weary clone swaying meters away from him. Just as Wrecker guessed, Tech doesn't have his glasses, nor does he have any of his other gear. He only has his blacks, and to say that Tech's wearing his blacks would be kind. In reality, they hang in loose shreds around his slashed and bloody frame.
Tech's hurt, Wrecker thinks frantically. Tech's hurt really, really bad.
There's a lot of blood, dried and fresh, on his brother's visible skin and Tech's staggering as he struggles weakly against his captor's grip. After a few long seconds of being propped up in front of the bounty hunter like body armor, Tech doesn't seem to be able to contest anymore. He just sort of leans there, unsteadily, like he's too tired even to stand. Typically, unless he's sleeping, Tech's always busy, always in motion, always bubbling with an endless supply of energy. This is all very wrong.
Considering the danger Tech's in and what these bounty hunters must have done to him, Wrecker is fuming, and a veil of red descends before his eyes. Right now, he craves a rampage, violence, and bounty hunter bloodshed. His heart is telling him to run straight at this vile abuser, this abductor, and put his armored fist right through this treacherous bastard's face. Wrecker's hands ball into fists automatically and he leans forward, ready to charge.
But, he realizes that this isn't a situation in which he can just let the 'Wrecking Ball' do the talking. He's gotta use his head for a change, and since the guy holding a gun to his vod's neck is saying something to him, Wrecker forces himself to try to listen. The criminal keeps the muzzle of his blaster tightly pressed into Tech's throat, but Wrecker's determined to figure out what he wants so he can get his wounded brother safely away.
But this sick son of a nerfheder hurt Tech. And is threatening to kill him! complains the Wrecking Ball in his head. I gotta take him down!
Wrecker feels heated, volatile, and ready to detonate; just like the ordnance and explosives that he loves so much.
But, I love Tech more, says the stronger, gentler voice within. He takes a few deep breaths and is able to calm himself enough to focus on what the enemy is saying.
"Don't come any closer or I'll blow his head off!" the bounty hunter barks at him. "Stand aside now, let me, pass, and don't follow me! When I'm safe aboard the Skakoan's ship, I'll consider jettisoning him before I leave the system. Otherwise, he dies right here!"
Wrecker's now trembling with the effort to keep himself from charging wildly into this cocky motherfucker who has done, and still can do, so much harm to his little brother. Though Wrecker's pretty quick for a man his size, he knows he's not fast enough to get to Tech before the blaster leaves the barrel if the bounty hunter pulls the trigger.
"I'm not gonna say it again!" shrieks the increasingly manic bounty hunter, thrusting the blaster further up into Tech's jaw.
Tech blearily tries to lean away from the weapon, but he's painfully coerced to remain where he is.
"Last chance! Outta my way now or I'm gonna paint these walls with that big brain of his! And you'll have no one to blame but yourself for that!" Tech's captor's threats have escalated into deranged ravings. "What'll it be, Heavyweight? You gonna give your pal a chance to keep his skull intact?"
Wrecker twitches and takes small, shuffling steps side-to-side.
Then, just as frustration, worry, and protectiveness almost irreversibly light his fuse, Wrecker catches a glimpse of movement in the partially collapsed ceiling. The bounty hunter doesn't see what Wrecker can, and as he's hysterically bellowing more threats and demands, a lithe shape in red and black silently drops in from overhead.
And just like that, his own stealthy, cunning sergeant gives Wrecker the opportunity to physically intervene with this villain's plans for Tech after all.
Just moments earlier...
After following the scent of the large source of human blood and tracking Wrecker, Hunter's also closing in on the ship's brig. He hesitates a few frames away from the door and senses there are three men within. One is Tech, one is Wrecker, and the other must be the bounty hunter known as Thaxx. Hunter stands tacitly poised, getting a feel for what's happening with the three men inside the compartment. It's an extremely unstable situation and he needs to quickly find another way in.
Unusual shifts in microcurrents, an obscure draft, and the heavy tang of leaking hydraulic fluid tell Hunter there's been recent and significant structural damage done very close to where he's standing. Based on the reverberations of the soundwaves coming from the brig, the damage seems to exist inside the compartment itself. Luckily, this means that Hunter should be able to find another way in; hopefully, a way that's not right in their enemy's direct line of sight.
Hunter finds the hatch to a mezzanine level between the lower level and the main deck. He climbs into the overhead void and silently creeps through the extensive ductwork until he finds a giant gap in the ceiling below him. Peering through the gaping hole, he's got a Crosshair's-eye view of the situation in the brig and a very advantageous point of entry.
From his roost above the destroyed compartment, Hunter's got a clear view of Tech and the bounty hunter holding him hostage, and he can accurately determine Wrecker's distance from the both of them. Wrecker's not close enough to engage without risking Tech being fatally shot by this madman. But Wrecker is in an excellent position to engage Tech's captor if Hunter can provide an unexpected distraction and a well-placed strike.
Hunter waits for the bounty hunter to start dispensing threats again, then gracefully pounces through the hole in the ceiling. Using gravity and his diligent martial arts training, the highly-skilled commando knocks the weapon away from Tech's chin with one foot and slams the villain away from his brother with the other. The bounty hunter doesn't entirely lose his grip on the blaster, so Hunter wraps himself protectively around his little brother, then tackles him down to the deck to cover him.
Caught entirely off-guard by Hunter's surprise incursion from above, the bounty hunter stumbles and loses control of his hostage. The badly wounded clone is no longer in his grasp to use as leverage, but he still has his blaster and recovers quickly from the assault. With a crazed scream, he angrily aims at the clone sergeant that's now strewn protectively over the mechanic. This situation has gotten far out of hand, and it seems that Thaxx decides he will have to go out of here shooting. He clutches the grip and pulls the trigger.
Hunter hears the click of the trigger being squeezed, smells the release of Tibanna gas, and sees the flash of intense energy particles leaving the emitter nozzle. Yet, he doesn't feel the expected burning contact of a blaster bolt on his back.
Instead, the bounty hunter misses the easy shot because he's pummeled by what Hunter can only describe as a raging mother mudhorn.
Wrecker plows bodily into the unsuspecting shooter and the nozzle of Thaxx's blaster veers just enough to make the shot go wide of the two clones on the deck. The bolt passes safely over Hunter's prone form and drills innocuously into the durasteel bulkhead. More debris rains down into the already structurally compromised compartment, but Hunter quickly uses himself to shield Tech from the falling sparks and shifting wreckage. Wrecker not only forces the blaster off target, but he tackles the bounty hunter clean through the bulkhead and into the next compartment over.
Hunter has to sit up from where he's sprawled across Tech and crane his neck to look through the Wrecker-shaped hole to check on the big guy's safety. He finds that Wrecker's getting on nicely. The mighty clone has landed atop the bounty hunter and only has to shake his head once to clear it, before turning to Hunter and giving him a happy thumbs up. When Thaxx stirs and raises his gun to shoot Wrecker point blank, the clone immediately grasps the weapon. Hunter watches as Wrecker destroys not only the blaster, but also crushes every single bone in the brigand's hand and fingers along with it.
Thaxx howls in pain and rage for a few moments, but seems determined to end this botched job on his own terms. Alarmed, Hunter notices that Thaxx is using his remaining hand to reach down and mess with some detonators clipped to his belt.
But Wrecker notices this too and takes decisive action to interfere. The giant clone squeezes his fists together like a sledgehammer, raises them high above his head, and swings them down to clobber Thaxx's deranged face. The impact is so powerful, that the bounty hunter's skull bursts like a melon.
Wrecker actually has to pry his own gore-covered mitts out of the few inches of the deck that formerly supported his foe's former-head.
Wrecker glances joylessly down at what he's done but seems to understands that he didn't deal his enemy such a gruesome death intentionally, nor did he do it without good cause. Most bounty hunters wear helmets anyway, so this can just go in the column of "good reasons why."
"Wrecker, it's done, big guy," Hunter calls over to him. "We need you over here!"
A moment later, Wrecker bursts back through the Wrecker-shaped hole and rejoins Hunter and Tech amongst the ruins of the brig. With no remaining enemies to punch, the big clone removes his blood-flecked helmet, looks down at his battered vod, and starts quaking with worry and sadness.
Having already used his vibroblade to slice apart the manacles binding Tech's wrists, Hunter cradles their brother's limp and bloody form. He tries to get a sense of vitals and a general understanding of the most acute injuries and lightly brushes his fingers over the two fresh injection punctures in Tech's neck.
Tech groans and stirs, desperately trying to blink his only non-swollen eye open. He's trembling, stiffly bracing his arm against his side, and wheezing every time he tries to draw breath.
"Tech, it's Hunter. Wrecker and I are here, vod. Can you hear me?" Hunter calls to him. "We're getting you out of here."
Tech's only available eye is unfocused, bloodshot, and sticky with half-congealed blood when he manages to keep it open. He holds onto Hunter with his right hand while keeping the other protectively curled into his side. He's a complete mess. There's a multitude of long, deep, ternary lacerations that look suspiciously Trandoshan-made. He's been hit on the head and in the face several times and likely has several broken bones and contusions from blunt force trauma. He's even got an older, once-clotted blaster wound in his side that's now actively bleeding again. His blood pressure's too low, and his heart rate is too fast. From what Hunter can see, his arm looks fractured, and the injury likely involves a lot of soft tissue damage. But other than what Hunter suspects is hemorrhagic shock, the worst is Tech's breathing. It's forced, painful, and insufficient. Furthermore, and Hunter knows it's more of a long-term dilemma, Tech's much-needed goggles are MIA.
Wrecker sinks to his knees, his hands hovering over Tech's body, wanting to touch and hold him but not knowing where he can do so safely and without harming him.
"Tech," Wrecker says quietly as he sniffles and a tear slides down his stubbled cheek. "Tech… what'd they do to you?"
Tech glances blindly in Wrecker's general direction and struggles weakly in Hunter's arms.
"D-did… Echo…?" Tech starts to ask. It's taking a lot of his energy trying to speak.
"We've got Echo too. Crosshair already took him safely back to the ship. They're just waiting on us, and then we're all outta here," Hunter promises. "Wrecker and I are taking you to Marauder. Taking you to Echo and Crosshair, right now, vod."
Tech looks like he has more questions, but he only sighs. His eyelids fall decisively shut, and his tense muscles go slack in Hunter's arms.
"Tech!" Wrecker wails urgently, in a tone that shatters Hunter's heart to pieces. "No, Tech! Please wake up!"
"He's out cold," Hunter informs him. "We need to get him help, now. You good to carry him?"
"Yeah, 'course I can carry him," Wrecker says thickly, still sniffling. "Ohhh," he adds with a whine. "He really doesn't look so good, Hunter."
"He isn't," Hunter tells him solemnly, unable to conjure so much as a white lie about it to ease Wrecker's concern. "But he's strong, and he will be."
"That's true," Wrecker agrees. "OK, hand him over, Sarge... Oh kriff, Tech... Just hang on, buddy. I got you."
"Nice and easy now, Wreck, that's it," Hunter coaches as Wrecker lifts Tech and drapes him gently over one of his broad, armored shoulders. "Mind his arm there... make sure he can still breathe… good... good job, brother. Alright, we're outta here. Follow me."
Hunter leads his vode out of the brig. Just before they're through the hatch, a piece of Tech's goggles catches Hunter's eye from amongst the rubble on the floor. But when Hunter crouches down to retrieve them, he finds just a few meager pieces that crumble in his hand anyway. Even for a master-tinkerer like Tech, the parts are unsalvageable, so Hunter reluctantly leaves them among the rest of the mess.
…
The three of them ascend back up to the main level and approach the vessel's side port to find that their journey on foot back to Marauder will be a lot shorter than they'd planned. Having already boarded with Echo, Crosshair has the Marauder parked all of forty meters away from the bounty hunter's shuttle. Their beloved ship's gangway is already lowered and ready to welcome them home. Crosshair looms like a hawk at the top of the gangway, prepared to receive them but likely reluctant to let Echo out of his immediate reach. When he sees Tech, he startles and looks ready to come flying down the gangway to help Wrecker. But as Tech's transport is already well in-hand, Hunter waves him off.
Hunter knows the sharpshooter can get a good look at the situation from where he's standing. This is substantiated when Hunter hears him gasp and senses Crosshair's pulse rate spike up into a mild panic. But stoic as ever, Crosshair keeps his anxiety reined in as Hunter leads Wrecker up into the ship's cabin.
All three of them work to gently lower Tech down onto a rack made ready for him. Crosshair's pulled one of the bottom bunks away from the bulkhead and into some decent elbow room and lighting, and it'll serve as Tech's exam table for now. Hunter notices that Crosshair already has a sleeping Echo laid out on the other lower bunk and has him set up with a few things to help stabilize their wounded ARC for the ride.
Crosshair lets out a low hiss of disdain as he starts examining and getting Tech situated.
"What happened?" he spits furiously, working to remove Tech's ruined blacks. "Where are his glasses!"
"Gone," Hunter tells him. Then he turns to Wrecker, who looks about ready to implode with anxiety.
Wrecker's looking around for Echo, and he starts rushing over to the ARC as soon as he spots him resting in the bottom bunk across the hold.
"Wrecker, get out there and lay charges in the Skakoan ship," Hunter tells their demolitions specialist to distract him and to uphold their mission plan. "We're going to eradicate the whole thing on our way out. Copy?"
"You got it, boss," says Wrecker with a nod. He pauses right before descending the first stair. "Wha' about the bounty hunter's ship?"
"Already have it covered," Crosshair drawls from where he's hovering over Tech, not looking up from his wounded brother.
"Huh? What's that's 'sposed to mean?" Wrecker asks curiously, accidentally wasting moments that they don't have.
"Wrecker. The Skakoan ship. Now," Hunter orders. "Tech doesn't have a lot of time."
"Yessarge," says Wrecker ardently, the reminder of Tech's precarious situation doing the trick. "I'm on it."
Wrecker stampedes out of the Marauder and back toward the direction of the Skakoan vessel, already removing his ruck to pick out the explosives and gear he needs to do the job. Hunter moves to Tech's side, opposite where Crosshair is already getting him started on an IV.
"How bad?" he asks the sniper.
"Bad," Crosshair mutters. "He's in shock. Vitals are deteriorating. We're out of our depth. And Echo needs more help too."
"I'll call Resolute and ask them to route us to the nearest med facility. I'll ask for live help from a 501st medic too."
"Fine," says Crosshair without any trace of his usual reluctance to collaborate with regs. "I suggest you do it now."
"On it, and I'll feed our long-range holocomms back aft to the main hold, so we can get live support while we treat them," Hunter assures him. "I just wanna lay eyes on our fearless ARC real quick."
Hunter strides quickly over to the bunk where their ori'vod is lain out and briefly peels the blanket away to look at him. Hunter winces because, kriff, he looks awful too.
Echo's got a blaster wound to his shoulder and some significant issues with his head implant and his other cybernetics. It also looks like he's been dissected and sliced into without remorse. Judging by the wires and tools hanging shoddily from various places, he didn't have the time or ability to disconnect properly from whatever hell he'd been subjected to. Crosshair's dressed his flesh wounds smartly, set him up with monitors, sedated him, and connected him to an external power cell. It's essentially a generator with a custom power adapter and modulator that Tech constructed for Echo to use if he was critically fatigued.
It's strange and sad to see their brave ARC laying there in such a state, the ample power cell connected via one of the few undamaged ports in his abdomen.
"How's Echo?"
"Not good either," Crosshair says dejectedly. "But not dying. I did what I could... Hunter, we'd better take off."
"Yeah, as soon as possible, vod," Hunter tells him. "Just do what you can for Tech. What's… what's with his breathing? He's working really hard just to pull air in. Looks like he's really struggling, Cross."
"Tension pneumothorax from broken ribs and blunt force. And the shock." says the sharpshooter sifting through their supplies. "I think I know what to do, but I wouldn't hate to have a qualified medic's opinion."
"Alright, stand by," Hunter says as he hurries away to the bridge. He initiates the comms with Resolute and routes them back to the main hold where Crosshair's working on Tech. He opens the channel, queries for contact, then hurries back aft to answer it where he and Crosshair can both hear and participate.
He's only been gone for a few seconds, but when he returns, Crosshair's already sterilizing an area on Tech's upper right thorax, just below his collar bone, and prepping a large needle for decompression.
"He can't wait," the sharpshooter tells Hunter. "I need to alleviate the pressure, now."
Hunter splits his attention between monitoring the comms channels and watching his brother carefully feel for the exact spot he's looking for between Tech's battered ribcage. He can't help but cringe when Crosshair pushes the needle between two ribs. But as soon Crosshair guides it below the bones, there's a great rush of air. The relief it gives to Tech is immediate and Crosshair wastes no time in sliding the catheter off the needle and setting up a chest tube.
"That's it, Tech," Hunter hears Crosshair soothing in a low, raspy voice. "Much better now, isn't it?"
Tech makes no verbal answer, but the distress etched across his boyish face diminishes significantly. He also is no longer struggling terribly just to bring air into his lungs.
Seconds later, the lads on Resolute answer up.
"Talk to us, Marauder," says the familiar voice of Easy. "You get your boys?"
"Both of them," Hunter tells him. "But we got one critical and one that could be if we don't get help ASAP."
"Copy. Sending you coordinates to rendezvous with Resolute," says Easy, his tone instantly changing from amiable to one of professional urgency.
"No time, Easy," Hunter insists. "We need to make the jump to the closest base or nearest medical frigate."
"We've been busy too," Easy tells him. "And it just so happens we're the closest. You can be here in under three hours, and we'll have our medics waiting."
"OK... we're Resolute-bound then," Hunter agrees, somewhat confused by Resolute's recent movement but not caring to challenge it. Primarily because of how helpful it is to them right now. "Also, can we do a live video link with a medic? Our own medic and assistant medic can't really help themselves right now. Crosshair's doing wonders here, but we'd like to talk to someone with at least a certificate. Please."
"You got it," says Easy. "I'm transferring coordinates to your nav system, and Slowpoke's already setting you up with a live video feed. It'll be with 501st medics and trauma specialists and, I swear to you, Marauder, they know their shit. Stand by, over."
…
A few minutes later, as Crosshair's getting advice from a medic they know called Kix, Wrecker lumbers up the gangway. He's panting heavily as he seals the hatch for take-off behind him.
"She's ready to blow, Sarge," he reports of the Skakoan ship. "There's gonna be nothin' left. You watch!"
"Good work," Hunter says, directing Wrecker to the tail gun, then turning to man the throttles. "We're gone."
The three commandos decide to keep their commlinks open locally with each other to easily communicate from the different parts of the ship. Hunter's got the coordinates of and the safest and fastest way to Resolute locked into Marauder's nav system, and he makes quick work of easing their shuttle off the moon's surface.
They can leave this place forever as soon as they do a couple of short passes to destroy any equipment and resources that could potentially be used to benefit further Techno Union experimentation. They also want to make sure there's nothing dangerous left behind that any locals could get into. Collectively, they've decided to blow both enemy ships to kingdom come and leave nothing but two smoldering craters marking the spot where their brothers were made to suffer so much.
"Fire when ready, Wrecker," Hunter tells his brother at the gun mount.
"Fire when ready, aye," says Wrecker with nothing but a shadow of the usual excitement he gets from causing destruction.
The Skakoan's ship is the first to go. Just as Wrecker promised, it goes up in a massive fireball and everything the ship ever was is desecrated in seconds.
"Beautiful," Hunter tells him, using the rest of the pass to conduct battle damage assessment. "She's a goner. You ready for another pass?"
"Yeah, I'm ready," Wrecker hedges. "And... we're sure the bounty hunters' ship is gonna blow?"
"I said so, didn't I?" snarls Crosshair.
"Yes, Wrecker, light her up," Hunter tells him, trusting Crosshair's confidence about the matter. "Coming around now... alright, fire when ready."
"Fire when ready, aye," says Wrecker, pressing the trigger to pepper the large shuttle below with several standard rounds of light cannon fire.
He barely taps it, and the thing blows sky-high. In an absolutely immense, blue fireball of destruction, the bounty hunter's ship explodes violently; even rocking the Marauder a few times as she passes overhead at what should have been a safe distance.
"Woah!" bellows Wrecker over the net as Hunter levels out their course.
The massive explosion finally finishes detonating, and what was once the bounty hunters' ship is engulfed in giant, blue flames that slowly turn to bright orange and yellow.
"Woahhhhhhhhh," Wreckers says again, dreamily this time. "Oi! But how? I gotta know how!"
"Methane, I think…" Hunter guesses. "Right, Crosshair?"
"Skakoan di'kut didn't need it anymore," the sharpshooter drawls darkly. "Didn't object when I siphoned some out of him for our demo."
"Awh Ewwww!" Wrecker bellows. "You touched that guy, Cross? Gross!"
"Of course, I didn't touch him," Crosshair snaps. Though Hunter can't see his face, he can practically hear how his narrow features are screwing up in disgust.
"Oh. Well, then how'd you get the—
"He shot him, Wrecker," Hunter interjects, sensing that Crosshair might just breathe actual fire through their commlink receivers if the sullen sniper is forced to do any more explaining. "You know how the Skakoans wear those big pressure suits? Crosshair shot one of the valves… I'm guessing at just the right angle of inflection that caused a slow leak. Slow enough for us to get away, fast enough to help with detonation."
"Nice, Crosshair!" Wrecker whoops. "Methane makes such a pretty boom! But hey... I'm just glad all the Techno Union stuff that was down there's now gone for good."
"Me too, big guy," Hunter heartily agrees with him. "Me too."
"Hnn," Crosshair huffs in approval.
Hunter can hear the toothpick between the sniper's teeth being deftly transferred from one side of his mouth to the other. The sergeant knows it means that Crosshair's relatively pleased.
"Punching us into hyperspace, now, then I'll be back to help with Tech and Echo. Standby."