Tales of Pabu
Part Two: Crosshair—
The Force Provides
1.
Pabu was…nice.
Too nice.
The sun blazed in a perfect blue sky. The sea murmured below the white-washed village, pleasure boats bobbing on its rippling surface. The people, a diverse collection of refugees from various systems, were universally kind, and helpful to a fault. The sands were soft, and the breeze mild. It was a veritable paradise.
Crosshair was bored.
It had been fine at first, after the chaos of Tantiss, and all that came before. A rest and recharge, to center himself and find out where he stood with his brothers. But he'd been created for a purpose, not to idle uselessly on a tropical island.
He sat at a table in what passed for a bar here—an open-air patio near the beach, where a Gran bartender served fruity drinks too sweet for his taste.
He was trying to get drunk, but the too-sweet sips weren't going down fast enough, and they weren't very strong. He grimaced and looked up and around at the other patrons. A couple in the corner, their heads together, and a group of friends laughing and chatting.
And a lone boy sitting at the bar with a drink, staring at him with eyes as blue as the Pabu sky. Although "boy" wasn't quite right—he was at least twenty-five standard human years; Crosshair was biologically no more than five years older than him. But he felt older. So much older.
He'd seen the boy around since he'd gotten here, and after a while it seemed he was following him, showing up at the bar whenever Crosshair was here. He'd caught the boy staring at him on more than one occasion.
Crosshair looked away, down at his syrupy drink. A few sips later, he felt someone nearby. The boy had invited himself to sit in the chair next to him. He hadn't even heard him. He was losing his touch on this cushy planet.
"What do you want?" he rasped.
The boy, his brown hair flopping over one blue eye, smiled crookedly. "I thought you wanted me to come over."
"Why would I want that?"
"You've been looking at me all afternoon. More than that. A few weeks now."
"I've been looking at you?" he sneered. "Go away." He sipped his disgusting drink. Would he ever get drunk off this goo?
The boy cocked his head, watching. "If that's what you want. But I don't think it is."
The nerve of this kid. "What do you know?"
"More than you think."
"Oh really?"
The boy's gaze became thoughtful. "You're unhappy. You don't fit in around here. You're lonely. Even in a crowd. Even with your friends."
Crosshair slammed the cup in his hands onto the table, sloshing its contents. The patrons of the bar looked over, startled. "Is that what you think?"
The boy had the good sense to look apologetic. "Sorry. I'm just trying to help."
"You want to help? Find me a stronger drink!"
The boy smiled that infuriating, crooked smile again. "That I can do. Follow me." He stood up from the table and left the patio. After a few steps, he looked back. "Are you coming?"
Crosshair sighed, fished in a pocket for a few credits, and threw them on the table. In another pocket, he took out a toothpick and put it between his teeth. Then he stood and followed the boy out onto the beach.
"I'm Senn," the boy said, walking down the shoreline that curved around to the right along with the circular buildings built upon it. Crosshair only grunted. "I already know who you are. You're Crosshair. You came in with Hunter and the other clones a few months ago." He narrowed his eyes at him. "You're special, like them."
"Fat lot of good it does me here." The sun was sinking down into the sea, a blaze of orange and red and purple. A beautiful night in a beautiful place. And he couldn't give a kriff about it.
"It took me awhile to adapt, too. To appreciate this place. The people. But give it time."
"I won't be here long enough," he said, and realized he meant it. As soon as he heard from Echo, he'd be gone from this place. The others were content to stay here, but Echo wanted more. Echo had been a reg, of course, and wanted to do more for his clone brothers. When Rex decided to leave the fight, to go with Gregor and Wolff and make a life elsewhere, Echo had stepped up to take his place. Though Crosshair had come to appreciate his reg brothers, he wasn't in it for the same reasons. He just wanted to do something. Anything. Echo was making contact with Rex's network, figuring out what was next, and told his brothers on Pabu he'd be back to see them before he got into it. Crosshair decided, then and there, that he would go with him.
The boy said nothing, only looked away and led him to an alleyway along the base of the village, up some steps, to a door he knocked on, three loud raps that echoed in the street. The door cracked open, and a humanoid of a species Crosshair didn't recognize peeked out with bulbous, silvery eyes.
"Hey, Zef, how about a bottle of your special sauce?"
The man nodded, said something in a tangled tongue and closed the door. The boy smiled at him as they waited. The door opened again, and the man handed Senn a glass bottle with a clear liquid in it. He held out a bony hand expectantly.
"Uh, do you have ten credits?" the boy asked.
Crosshair sighed and dug out more credits from his pocket. "This better be worth it."
"It is, you'll see."
Once the credits were in the man's hand, the door closed and they were walking down the steps again, back toward the beach. They sat in the sand, watching the sun go down as the boy opened the bottle and handed it to him.
Crosshair sniffed it, but it had no smell. He shrugged and tipped the bottle to his mouth. He braced for the liquid to hit his tongue, but when it did, it was like drinking water. For an instant, he thought the boy and the humanoid had played a joke on him, but before he had time to be angry, he swallowed, and the fire hit him.
It was as if all the heat of the blazing sun was running down his torso into his stomach, and when he pulled the bottle away, he coughed and fought to get his breath back. Tears sprang to his eyes, and the heat spread to the rest of his body, down to his fingertips and his toes.
When he could breathe again, he looked at the boy, who was smiling at him.
"Better?" the boy asked.
He could only nod and hold out the bottle. The boy accepted it and took a swig, squinting his eyes shut and gasping as it went down.
"What the hell is this?" Crosshair asked when he could speak again.
"SirsKeegan grog," the boy panted. "Shep doesn't allow it to be served in the bar. But those who know, know where to find it."
"And you found it." He took the bottle back and drank again. It was still like flames licking his insides, but not so bad this time. His brain began to relax and swim, just a little bit.
"I have a knack for finding things out." The boy leaned back on his hands in the sand, his legs splayed out before him. He cocked his head again in that way of his, looking at him.
Crosshair looked away from those eyes and held the bottle out again. "So, what's your story, anyway?"
"Do you care?"
"Humor me."
The boy shrugged. "Same story as most others here. The Empire came. When our people resisted, they smashed us. I fled and found my way here. The end."
"Family?"
"Dead."
"Sorry." He wasn't used to being sympathetic, but he knew loss. There was a lot of that in the galaxy right now.
"Me, too."
"At least there's Sirreagan grog," he said, tipping the bottle back again. He craved the fire now.
The boy laughed. "SirsKeegan. And yes, it helps." He waved away the bottle that Crosshair held out to him again. "But no more for me, or you'll have to scrape me from this beach."
"Lightweight."
"Yep."
But if Crosshair was honest, the few potent sips he'd taken had done a fairly good job. On top of the sickly sweet stuff he'd already been drinking that afternoon, his muscles felt a little like jelly. The sound of the ocean waves was lilting, and the fire of sunset on the horizon matched the one in his belly, as bright as the boy's dazzling smile.
"It's getting cool," the boy said softly, as the sun dipped below the line of the sea. He wrapped his arms around himself. Crosshair stared, shocked that he wanted nothing more than to put his arm around the boy, share his warmth, feel his skin…
"I have to go," he blurted, setting the bottle down in the sand and standing with some difficulty. His legs wobbled, but he had to leave, he had to escape this.
The boy stood, too, coming closer. Too close. "Okay. Are you sure you can walk?" He hesitated, then said, "My rooms are just a few blocks away." His voice lowered to a whisper. "Do you want to come?"
"I'm fine," he snapped, turning away. The world spun, and he nearly fell. The boy caught him and steadied him, his hands on his arms, his face mere inches away. "I know what you fear," the boy said. "But you don't have to. You don't have to be alone."
Crosshair took a shuddering breath. The boy's eyes gleamed in the coming night, as if staring into his soul. He was close, too damn close. He shoved the boy away. "You don't know anything about me!"
The boy said nothing, only nodded and stooped to pick up the bottle. He held it out. "Here. You paid for it."
"Keep it." Probably poisoned him. Planned it with the humanoid. Make a fool of Crosshair, why not? What else is there to do in this kriffing place?
"If you change your mind, I'm number three on Sea Foam Way."
"I won't." What a ridiculous name for a street. What a ridiculous planet this was. What a ridiculous fool he'd been.
"See you around, Crosshair."
He said nothing, only panted and tried to steady himself. Why was he out of breath? Why was his heart beating out of his chest? What was in that damn bottle? He looked back, but the boy was walking away, turning the corner to the steps they'd taken earlier. He staggered in the opposite direction.
At least he'd gotten drunk. There was that. But it had brought no peace. Or it had, but only momentarily, when he…when the boy…no, he wouldn't think about the boy. He was gone, and he wouldn't see him again. He walked the beach, breathing in the cool salt air. Already, the fuzziness was passing. His legs felt a little stronger. I know what you fear. How did he know? He didn't even know. But that wasn't true, was it?
Six months on this blasted island, and the others seemed to be moving on. All except him. Tech—Tech, out of all of them!—had a wife. She was a pirate of some sort. Or rather, as she liked to put it, a "liberator of ancient wonders." Sure, whatever. Hunter was often in conference with Shep, the mayor of the place. Perhaps the man was grooming him to take his place when he was gone or retired, though he wasn't that old. Running a village and planning public works projects didn't seem very exciting, but Hunter took it seriously. And though Omega would always be Hunter's first priority, Crosshair had seen him speaking with a red-headed woman more and more often, a woman who seemed to have definite plans for him. Even Wrecker had several giggling girls hanging off his big dumb muscles on any given day, content to spear for fish in the ocean, build new sea walls, or chase Omega and her friend around the island. He was at least glad for that; the kid deserved to just be a kid for a while.
He walked, for a long time, until the moon had moved halfway across the star-studded sky. He left the beach and padded through the quiet streets. He'd come to know them a bit in the past few months, seeking solitude. When at last he looked up, he was at door number three on Sea Foam Way.
As if in a dream, he walked up to the door and knocked. The boy answered it, not speaking, just smiling his insouciant half-smile.
Crosshair took the toothpick out of his mouth and flicked it away. "Maybe you know a few things," he admitted, as he pushed the boy inside and closed the door.
2.
Crosshair lounged near the landing pad at the top of city, waiting for Echo and Tech.
Echo had returned to Pabu that morning, only hours after Crosshair had slipped out of the boy's rooms just before sunrise. He had a mission that required Tech's decrypting expertise; and after some kerfuffle with his wife, Tech had agreed to go. No one else was actually required, but Crosshair had volunteered to go immediately. According to Echo, it was a "simple intelligence mission," but Crosshair knew from experience that nothing was ever simple. They all did.
"You might need some back-up," was all Crosshair said.
Echo put his hand—his real one—on Crosshair's shoulder. "I'll be glad to have you along."
He tried not to think of the boy, and all that had happened in his rooms the night before. Once the door had shut, he'd pushed the boy up against the wall, pressing against him, seeking his lips. The boy had responded in kind, and seemed to know Crosshair's every need, every desire, and it had been a long, delirious night with no sleep.
He'd gone on missions with no sleep before and would catch what few hours he could on the ship en route. But his unquiet mind was another thing. It had just been a night, just an encounter that meant nothing. Or did it? All he knew was that he wanted to see the boy again; and so he fled as soon as he could.
He shook off these thoughts as Tech and Phee approached the ship. Phee did not look happy. They stopped some distance away and faced each other, speaking in low tones, her arms crossed in defiance. Clearly, she didn't want her husband to leave. Who could blame her after what had transpired? When they'd all blasted away from an exploding Tantiss on the Maurader, Crosshair had Omega in his arms, and Phee held a half-alive Tech in hers, as if she'd never let him out of her sight again.
Her stance held anger, but her face threatened to crumble with grief. Tech put a hand to her face, spoke a few soft words, and kissed her. She threw her arms around him in a tight embrace.
"Crosshair! Tech!"
It was Omega, running toward them as Echo walked behind her. Tech moved away from Phee and embraced the girl as she ran into his arms.
"Were you really going to leave without saying goodbye?" she accused him.
"I just saw you at dinner not an hour ago," Tech told her.
"So? That's different than saying goodbye."
"And we better get going soon," Echo pointed out as he passed them to enter the ship. "We'll be late for the rendezvous."
"In a moment," Tech said. To Omega, he said, "Practice your flying with Hunter. And keep up with your other studies."
"I will."
Tech turned to his wife, and Omega came over to Crosshair. "I asked Hunter if I could go with you, but he said no," she pouted, crossing her arms, almost the same way Phee had crossed hers. It must be a female habit, or perhaps simply an instinct.
"I'm sure it will be unbearably boring," Crosshair assured her, and was pretty sure he was right. But he was itching to go.
"But what about our sniper lessons?" The girl was fairly good with that Zygerrian bow of hers, but she lacked the finesse he knew she could achieve with other weapons. He'd been giving her lessons here and there, when she wasn't busy with her other pursuits. It was the only time he'd felt even remotely useful here.
"Like Tech said, we'll be back soon." Echo would have to bring Tech back to his wife—or the woman would come looking for them, he guessed. Otherwise, Crosshair would consider simply staying with Echo on his missions. He was afraid when he got back, he'd see the boy again. Seek him out. Not leave his rooms again for weeks. And then where would he be?
"I'll miss you," Omega said, throwing her arms around his middle. He sighed but returned the hug. After Tantiss, they had an understanding. The understanding being that she was the only one able to get away with this. He pulled away. "Now off with you," he said, flicking his fingers, and she smiled and skipped away, toward Phee who demanded one last kiss from her husband. Phee held onto Omega as they watched Crosshair and Tech board the ship and take off.
3.
Senn woke up late in the morning. He was usually an early riser, but the night before had been…eventful. Not surprisingly, Crosshair was gone. Slippery, that one. He won't be easy to hold onto.
He couldn't say when his interest had turned into full-blown infatuation. Everyone on Pabu had been interested in the clones; they were different than any clones they'd ever seen or heard of. The initial group had been gone for some time and then came back with an additional member, though not many could understand why they'd bothered: he was aloof and sour; he spoke to no one except his brothers and sister, and then only occasionally. He wandered the village alone, perpetually frowning, chewing on his toothpicks; he often made his way to the open-air bar on the beach, though he never seemed to enjoy his drink.
Senn had begun to take an interest in him, mostly out of curiosity. The other clones were so friendly and helpful. What was this guy's story? Based on the gossip he'd heard around the village, Crosshair had been a member of Clone Force 99 but had left them to join the Empire. He'd been their enemy for quite some time, even tried to kill them; but at some point, he'd had a change of heart and betrayed the Empire. He'd ended up on some far-off prison and the others had gone after him. And the girl—she'd been taken there, too. Senn admired their loyalty and sense of brotherhood.
They'd all been damaged when they came back, especially the one called Tech. He was better now, thanks to Phee. They were all doing fine—except Crosshair. And Senn had a knack for helping people through their trauma. He was good at reading people's emotions and sensing their needs. He'd been planning to go to University on Coruscant to study psychology, but the Empire had come to his planet and turned his dreams to ash.
He wanted to help Crosshair, if he could. But he had a feeling the man didn't want help. Senn took an interest in him anyway. He didn't exactly follow him, but he knew his usual haunts: an isolated strip of beach, the commissary (where Senn often volunteered), and the patio-bar. He knew where to "run into" him.
On the occasions when Senn did run into Crosshair, he watched him as discreetly as possible. The way he slouched in the chair at the bar, his long legs casual and crossed at the ankle, his posture suggesting a feline grace. Senn could tell he didn't care for the sweet drinks of Pabu and mostly just stared into his cup. What did he see in its depths? Mistakes, tragedy, regret?
Usually, his ability to sense emotions came with little effort. Often, people radiated their feelings like heat, and he felt them regardless. But with Crosshair it was different—he held himself tightly, despite the casual posture; in fact, the relaxed stance was a front for the tight ball of emotions he kept controlled inside.
Senn didn't normally poke around directly in people's minds without permission. It was a violation of privacy he didn't like to trespass upon.
But one day a few months ago, he couldn't help himself. They were both in the bar, Senn in the corner nursing his drink, Crosshair at a table nearby, staring into his cup as usual. He looked so forlorn, so alone. Senn wanted to touch him somehow, even if it was only mentally.
He reached out with his mind, like a psychic finger, slowly, tentatively, just a touch on the temple.
Loneliness. Indecision. Isolation. Fear and love and self-loathing. It all washed over Senn like a dark wave, and he nearly tumbled from his chair.
At that moment, as if he could sense the probe, Crosshair looked up and stared right at him, his dark eyes intense.
Senn looked away quickly. Kriff, does he know? Or had he just sensed someone staring at him? Foolish, Senn, very foolish.
Because one thing he knew about Crosshair, even without a mind touch, was that he was dangerous. He was six feet of coiled menace, a highly trained soldier, a one-time minion of the Empire, and probably not keen on having someone root around in his head. Senn was sure he could snap him in two if he felt the urge.
He wasn't going to speculate on why that excited him so much. Not today, anyway.
It was time to leave. He got his chance when another clone—Tech—sat down at the table with Crosshair. Senn got up and hurried past them, but he felt Crosshair's eyes on him like lasers until he rounded the corner.
Perhaps that was when he knew it was more than curiosity that drew him to Crosshair.
Over the next few months, he relished any chance at seeing him. He noticed something, too—Crosshair noticed him watching. And Crosshair watched back. He instinctively knew that Crosshair would never admit to this. But it didn't matter. Crosshair's eyes on him sent a thrill through him. They played this game for a long time, until Senn understood that Crosshair would never act on it. If anything was going to happen, it was up to him.
And so he approached him, finally, only yesterday, and was ready for his rebuffs and his rudeness, recognizing it for what it was—he was protecting himself, and preventing anyone from getting close. But Senn knew the truth. Crosshair wanted him.
This wasn't arrogance. He could feel it, literally, in Crosshair's stares. And, stars, he wanted Crosshair.
Stay calm, he told himself on the way over to his table. Act like you couldn't care less. And then: Offer an incentive. The grog. It would do what Crosshair wanted: get him drunk. And maybe help loosen him up a bit.
It had, and Senn could tell it scared him, and he ran away. So he went home and waited, knowing that, eventually, Crosshair would come to him. Because the loneliness was deep and persistent, and the desire was strong.
He'd known when Crosshair approached his door, but he let him knock. He sensed that Crosshair liked to be in charge, so he let him. But the truth was, Senn wanted it. Wanted Crosshair to push him inside and close the door. Wanted him to force him up against the wall and kiss him. Wanted him to slide his hand between his legs. Wanted him to start tearing his clothes off. Wanted him to roughly push him on the bed and take him in his mouth. To turn him over and enter him. And to keep doing these things to him, over and over again, throughout the night.
As he sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, he wondered if it would happen again. Or if their time together had sated Crosshair's need for connection, if only for a night. He didn't think that was the end of it. But as he wandered the village the next day, looking for him, he realized he was gone. Not just out of his rooms, but off of Pabu. After some subtle investigating, he found out the one called Echo had left, with Tech and Crosshair.
Tech would certainly come back to his wife. But would Crosshair be on board? What if their night together had frightened him so much he never came back? It pained him to think about it, but it was a possibility.
He went home and drank some grog to dull that fear.
4.
Once in hyperspace, Echo briefed them on the mission. It was fairly simple: they'd meet the other clones in the Anoat system and land on one of the planet Pujool's moons. It was a jungle climate, but the Empire had a base there with some administrative buildings, one of which held the intel they were looking for. The other clones would help them covertly get inside the building and keep the exit clear for their escape. Once Tech decrypted the intel on site and copied it to a cylinder, they'd get out the way they came in, give the other clones the cylinder, and get out of there.
After the briefing, Echo went into the back of the ship, and Crosshair was left alone in the cockpit with Tech, who fiddled with the buttons and levers of the ship, as he always did.
"You ready for this?" Crosshair asked.
"Of course I am," Tech replied. "Why would I not be?"
"It's your first mission since…" He trailed off.
"Since Dr. Hemlock tried to turn me into an assassin," Tech finished for him matter-of-factly. "I assure you, I am fine."
Crosshair only grunted.
Tech looked up from the controls, looking out of the cockpit window at the mottled blue of hyperspace. "Phee is not happy I am going."
"No kidding."
"Under normal conditions, I would have suggested she come with us. She has seen worse than what we are about to do, and she can handle herself."
"Normal conditions?"
Tech turned to look at him. It was still strange to see him with hair longer than it used to be, and with new glasses—not goggles—that were mostly clear and without rims, although Tech could bring up almost any kind of data on them.
"Phee is pregnant."
Crosshair couldn't speak for a moment. "What?" he finally spluttered. "How?"
"I hardly think I need to explain the physical process—"
"Tech! It's not possible. Clones are infertile."
"Exactly the point I made to Phee. The discussion we had after that was…difficult. My first assumption was that Phee had been with another man—"
"Obviously."
Tech put up a hand. "But that is not the case. The child is mine. That is all you need to know."
Crosshair shrugged. "So, clones aren't infertile?"
He shook his head. "It would seem, as a general rule, that we are. It is a fundamental part of our DNA. As of right now, the fact that we have a child together is still a mystery."
"So, you're saying it's a miracle?" Crosshair didn't believe in miracles. He didn't believe in much of anything, except a target in his scope.
Tech looked thoughtful. "I cannot speak to miracles. The Kaminoans were brilliant scientists, but not perfect. Perhaps it is simply a scientific aberration we do not yet understand. As it is, I have come to believe that—sometimes—the galaxy gives you gifts when you least expect it."
Crosshair's thoughts flashed to the boy but rejected that line of thinking immediately. Meeting the boy had been pure chance, nothing else. He supposed if anyone deserved gifts from the galaxy, it was Tech. In many ways, he was the best of them. And he, Crosshair—he had been the worst.
"Well, then…I suppose congratulations are in order."
Tech came the closest to beaming that Crosshair had ever seen.
"Yeah, can you imagine this guy with a kid?" Echo joked as he entered the cockpit. It seemed Crosshair was the last to find out. Probably announced at one of Shep's endless dinners that he almost always skipped.
"Our care and protection of Omega would seem to qualify me perfectly for the job," Tech pointed out.
"Omega was twelve years old when we brought her in," Echo reminded him. "Are you ready for a squalling baby? A crying, vomiting, peeing, pooping—"
"I get the idea," Tech said, raising his hand as his face paled.
Echo laughed. Crosshair almost laughed with him.
Almost.
5.
The mission had gone according to plan. They had rendezvoused with the regs, got into the Imperial facility, Tech did his decryption magic, got the data, and got out nearly without a hitch.
Nearly.
A team of four stormtroopers caught them in a corridor; they began firing at them. Echo and Crosshair killed them before they could sound the alarm.
But something was happening with Tech. As soon as the shooting began, he dropped to his knees and held his head in his hands, as if he were in pain. His breathing became ragged and strained.
"Tech!" Echo knelt beside him. "Are you hit?"
Tech didn't reply, just continued his wild panic on the floor. Crosshair didn't see any wounds.
"We gotta get out of here," he said, taking one of Tech's arms. "Help me get him out."
Echo grabbed Tech's other arm, and they half-dragged, half-carried him out, where the regs were keeping the exit clear. It was a long slog to the ship, hidden in the jungle a klick or two away.
By the time they got on board, Tech was beginning to fight them, pulling away and reaching for his blasters. Echo got a hypo from the med kit and injected it into Tech's neck. The sedative worked quickly, and he slumped between them.
Echo and Crosshair looked at each other, panting with their exertion. "What just happened?" Echo asked.
"I don't know. We better get him home."
Echo gave the data to the regs before they left in their own ship. Then he set a course for Pabu.
Tech woke before they reached the island planet. Crosshair sat beside him during most of the trip, in case he woke up agitated again. He'd taken Tech's blasters and put them away for now, but he needn't have worried.
Tech looked up at him, clear-eyed but confused. "What happened?"
"Not sure. It looked like a panic attack or something."
Tech sat up, concern on his face. "Did I compromise the mission?"
"No. We got what we needed and got out. But we had to carry your ass to the ship." Crosshair put a toothpick in his mouth. "What do you remember?"
Tech shook his head. "Nothing, really. We had gotten the data and were heading back to the exit point. There were TK troopers—" He stopped.
"You went bonkers when they started blasting. We took care of them, but you were on the floor." Crosshair studied him, thinking. What if there was some residual conditioning left over from Hemlock's tampering? Something triggered by stress or danger? "Something you want to share?"
Tech looked over at him, hesitating. Then his face hardened. "No. I do not know what happened. Clearly, I am a liability, so it is fortunate I promised Phee this would be my last mission."
"Yes. Fortunate."
"I would appreciate it if you would not mention this to her. I do not want her to worry."
"All right." He wouldn't mention it to Phee. But he didn't promise he wouldn't mention it to Hunter.
"Thank you, Crosshair."
"We're almost there. I suggest you rest when you get there."
"Agreed."
6.
As they walked down the ramp, Crosshair saw Phee waiting in the distance. When she saw Tech come out of the ship, she started running.
Tech caught her and whirled her around, kissing her before he even set her on the ground again. She clutched him tightly.
As Crosshair passed them, he heard Tech say to her quietly, "I told you I would come back."
"Lucky you did, brown eyes," she replied, kissing him again.
Crosshair rolled his own brown eyes.
He caught up with Echo, who was heading towards Hunter's rooms nearby, and caught his sleeve. "Tell Hunter about what happened."
"You want to report with me?"
"I…need to do something."
"All right. I'll be leaving again soon, probably tomorrow morning. If you want to come, be here at sunrise. I may not be back for a while. If not, thanks for your help this time around." Echo put a hand on his shoulder. "You're always welcome, Crosshair."
Crosshair nodded, and they parted ways. It had felt good to work with his brothers again. It had felt right. He'll probably go with Echo tomorrow. But first, he had to walk down the spiraling walkway of the village, down to the beach, around the corner, up some steps, and down a street. Thinking about Tech's words, and about gifts from the galaxy.
7.
Senn was about to leave his rooms to have dinner with his friend Loona, when he felt it. A presence he would know anywhere.
He rushed to the door and opened it. Crosshair stood there, his hand raised to knock.
It had only been several days, but it seemed much longer.
"Hey," Senn blurted.
"Hey." Crosshair tossed his toothpick away. After several long moments of silence, he said, "Do you mind if I come in?"
"No," he answered, moving back into his rooms. "Not at all."
Crosshair stepped inside. Senn moved into the room nervously. "Can I get you anything? I only have, um, tea," he said. He inwardly winced. So much for being calm, cool and collected around this guy.
"No." Crosshair stared at him, and Senn's knees turned to water. "I had a mission," he said, by way of explanation.
"Oh. Good. Did it go well?" Stupid question, stop being stupid…
"Yes." But he caught a flash of something, a worry, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by feral need.
"Good," he said again. His heart hammered in his chest.
Crosshair stepped closer to him. "Take your clothes off," he commanded.
Senn licked his lips. "Take them off for me."
He was rewarded with a small, wicked smile; and then Crosshair caught him up in his arms and kissed him, clawing at his shirt, yanking on his pants, pulling off his boots.
It looked like Loona was going to have to wait.
8.
Crosshair fell back onto the bed, gasping. The boy pulled himself over to the crook of his arm, resting his head on his chest. Crosshair slid his fingers into the boy's sweaty hair, combing it over and over. When their breathing slowed, the boy looked up at him and smiled.
"You missed me."
"I might have thought about you for a minute."
"Admit it, Cross. You like me."
"You're tolerable." He let the corner of his mouth turn up just a bit, and pulled him in for a kiss, his tongue plunging into his mouth, his hand tightening into a fist in his hair.
When they parted, the boy was breathless but spoke. "Don't leave without telling me again. Please, Cross."
"All right." He thought about mentioning Echo leaving in the morning, that he might be on the ship with him. But he already knew he wasn't going anywhere.
For the first time since he arrived on Pabu, he was exactly where he wanted to be.
9.
The days floated by like the high, thin clouds scudding across the sky of Pabu. Nights were spent in the boy's bed in a sweaty tangle with not much sleep; but Senn left him every morning to work in the communal kitchen, which left Crosshair wondering what to do with his days.
After a few hours' sleep, he would meet with Omega on a quiet part of the beach to continue her sniper lessons. The girl was enthusiastic and coming along, but he was a severe taskmaster, pulling the target further and further away down the beach. The target was two pieces of large driftwood lashed together to make a cross, stuck in the sand; she was to hit the middle where the two pieces of wood met.
As he walked back to her and handed her the blaster, she pouted. "I can barely see it!"
He put a toothpick in his mouth. "Focus and find it."
"The sun's too bright," she complained, squinting up at the sky. "And the wind blows sand all around."
"There will always be distractions. You've been in worse conditions. This should be easy for you."
"When can I use your rifle? It at least has a scope!"
"I told you. Once you hit the target consistently with the blaster at this distance, you can use the rifle."
"Oh, all right." Her face became determined, the one that said she was going to succeed or die trying. She raised the blaster, steadied it with both hands, closed one eye, and fired.
The shot went wide. She grunted with dissatisfaction.
"Take your time. Find the target. Don't just see it. Feel it."
"I don't even know what that means," she muttered as she raised the blaster again. After a minute, she pulled the trigger. The blast hit one of the wooden arms of the target.
"I hit it!"
"Good. Now keep trying to hit the center."
She sighed dramatically but kept going. Some shots went wide. She hit the arms of the target a few times. Finally, a shot hit the center, splintering the wood.
"I got it!"
"Good. Now do it one-handed."
"Crosshair!"
"Are we doing this or not? One handed."
She sighed again, but a voice made them turn around.
"Hey Omega! Come look for shells with me!"
A boy about Omega's age was waving to her. Shirtless in the morning heat, tanned skin, good-looking. She smiled when she saw him, but it was a different sort of smile, one he'd never seen on her before. A secret smile. Was she old enough to smile at boys like that? He supposed so. He wondered if Hunter knew. Probably not. He wouldn't like it if he did. A juvenile thought entered his mind: he knew something about Omega that Hunter didn't. It gave him a sort of pleasure.
So when she asked if they could be done for the day, he said, "Fine. Same time tomorrow."
"Okay!" She ran off to meet the boy. He watched as they ambled down the beach together. The boy's fingers dangled close to hers, just barely touching. Then a shoulder. Then a hip. Hmmm. Maybe he didn't like this after all.
Usually after Omega's lesson he'd make his way to the commissary for a bite, and to watch the boy serve meals. He stopped, thinking. He was still referring to him as "the boy" in his mind, but he'd just seen an actual boy—young, far too young to be touching Omega like that, wasn't he? —and so it didn't seem right to keep calling his adult lover "the boy." His name was Senn. He hadn't called him by name yet, not even whispered in bed. Maybe he would tonight. Senn—Senn would like that. He liked pleasing Senn, as much as he liked it when Senn pleased him.
It was a little early for lunch, so he took the long way, passing by the docks. Wrecker nearly filled a small boat; he was perched near the side, looking down into the water, a spear in his hand. Fishing again. He was really taking to his new hobby.
Crosshair watched. Surprisingly, Wrecker stayed absolutely still for several minutes, his eyes tracking something beneath the gentle waves. Suddenly he thrust the spear into the water with a meaty arm, and yelled triumphantly as he pulled out a large whiskered fish as long as his torso. He noticed Crosshair watching and raised the impaled fish in the air.
"Hey Crosshair! I just caught dinner!"
"Yummy."
"Hah! It sure will be!"
Wrecker put the speared fish into the boat and rowed over to the dock. He threw the rope to Crosshair, who tied it to the post. Wrecker jumped out of the boat onto the wet planks, smelling of seawater and fish guts.
"Maybe tonight you'll actually come to dinner," the big man said, pulling the speared fish out of the boat. "Why don't you ever come?"
"I have things to do."
"Yeah, like what? All I ever see you do is walk around." He whirled around with the fish as he spoke, and Crosshair took a few steps back, wrinkling his nose.
"Maybe you should walk more," Crosshair pointed out, gesturing to Wrecker's growing girth.
"Hah, yeah, I guess I am getting a little fat," he said, rubbing his burgeoning belly. "The eating's good here. You should eat more, Crosshair, you've always been skinny."
"Thanks. You'll be relieved to know I'm heading to the commissary now." He turned to leave.
"Hey, I'll come with! Gotta bring this baby to the kitchens."
Crosshair sighed. "Fine."
He tolerated Wrecker's version of conversation as they walked up the winding road, the smelly fish in his arms. The big man went on for some time about fishing, his favorite foods, and the gossip he'd heard about some of the people they passed.
"Hey," he suddenly interjected, "Did you know that Tech and Phee are—" He lowered his voice to a rough whisper. "Having a baby?"
"Tech told me."
"Weird, isn't it? Who woulda thought? I wonder what the little tyke's gonna look like." He walked along happily for a minute, then turned to him and said, "Hey! If Tech can have kids, maybe we can too!"
"Stars forbid." The thought of little Wreckers running around made him shudder.
"Yeah, I guess you're right. We're lucky just to be here."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we were created to be soldiers. Expected to die in battle. I thought I would. Hah, we've come close so many times! But we didn't, and now we're here, in this paradise. Can't ask for too much more, I guess."
They'd reached the commissary. Wrecker sped up, heading to the back of the facility, the fish flopping in his arms. "I better get this on ice! See you tonight?"
"Maybe."
"See you then!" He disappeared through a doorway in the back.
Wrecker wasn't the brightest of them. But maybe a fine current of wisdom ran through that dumb brain of his.
10.
"Sometimes I wake up in the night and think he's right there next to me," Loona said. "As if I can still feel him there. But then I look over and I'm alone."
Senn's Twi'lek friend, Loona, had asked to talk to him this afternoon. She'd lost her husband on Ryloth, during the Imperial occupation. She and her young daughter had found their way here to Pabu, and Senn had befriended her. She knew of his special way of helping people through their stress, and she was having a particularly hard day today.
He nodded at her words. There wasn't much to actually say to make the pain go away; he'd lost his parents on his home world, killed by the Empire. No words were adequate to fill the void left behind. But he could help in other ways.
He reached over and grasped her hand. He could feel the tension in her, the anxiety that kept her awake at night. Not just grief over the loss of her husband, but also fear, that she would somehow lose her daughter, too.
He breathed deeply and calmed his own thoughts, trying to infuse calm and serenity into her through their clasped hands. She visibly relaxed, and he felt the agitation draining from her.
"You'll find peace here," he told her, using his voice in a way that he knew would help. He'd learned a long time ago that he could influence people's feelings just through his voice. "You and Deena are safe. When you sleep tonight, there will be no nightmares, and you'll find a deep rest."
By the rapt look on her face, he knew he was getting through to her. Her worries will lessen, and she'll have a restful sleep tonight.
When he first came here, he thought he was being a coward—that he was running from the Empire, when every fiber in his being wanted to strike back. But he'd been nineteen years old with no family, knew no one off his home world, and the Empire was a juggernaut that couldn't be stopped.
Now he knew he was doing some good here. He helped not only Loona, but others who had suffered at the hands of the Empire. He was fighting evil with compassion, in the best way he knew how. He feared it wasn't enough, that it would never be enough, but he tried to focus on one person at a time, to take some comfort of his own in their smile of thanks and their improved well-being.
Loona's expression changed as she looked over his shoulder; at that moment, he sensed Crosshair behind him. The joy he felt at his lover's presence momentarily blinded him to Crosshair's emotions.
"I think someone is looking for you," Loona said.
11.
Crosshair didn't see Senn in the commissary. He sat alone and ate some soup, a fish stew that was too spicy. A few times a friendly face would attempt to sit with him, and he chased them away with a look. He wondered where Senn was. He was always here, every day at lunch. They didn't often speak; Crosshair would just watch him serving meals, thinking about the coming night, what he was going to do to—
Where the blazes was he?
He pushed his tray away and stepped outside. He casually walked around the building, fingering his toothpick.
Then he saw him.
Senn was sitting at a stone table with a Twi'lek woman across from him. Senn's back was to him, but Crosshair could see the woman's face. She was staring intently at Senn. He could see that Senn was holding her hand across the table, speaking in a low voice.
A flame of jealousy burned through Crosshair at that moment, taking his breath away. It scorched his awareness of everything around him to ashes, leaving only Senn and the woman at the table, their hands clasped, the utter look of trust on her pretty green face, the warm breeze ruffling Senn's hair in the bright Pabu sunlight.
Crosshair just stood there for some moments, the hot jealousy transforming into smoldering anger. The woman seemed to sense him; her eyes darted over and widened. She spoke a few words to Senn, who then turned and looked at Crosshair.
His smile was brighter than the sun. "Cross!"
"Am I interrupting anything?" he spat.
Senn's smile faltered. "This is my friend, Loona. Loona, this is Crosshair."
Loona smiled, but she sensed Crosshair's anger. "Pleasure to meet you." She turned to Senn. "Thank you, my friend. I must get back to my daughter." She left them alone together.
Senn tried to smile and moved toward him. "Cross…"
"How long?"
Senn's eyebrows knitted. "How long what?"
"How long have you been fucking her?"
"What? Cross, I told you, she's a friend."
"Stop calling me that! I never said you could call me that!"
"At least I call you something," Senn shot back, his own anger now kindling. "You've never even said my name. Not once. What does that mean, Crosshair? Am I so insignificant to you I don't deserve a name?"
"You're changing the subject."
"What, that I have a friend? Loona has been my friend since before you even came here. I'm not attracted to women in that way, you know that. Loona just needs to talk once in a while. We're all refugees here, we've all endured some kind of trauma. Some people need to talk it out. Unlike you, who keeps its all wrapped up tight in his bitter little heart."
Whatever words Crosshair had ready died in his throat. He was bitter. And angry and mean. Severe and unyielding, as Tech had once called him. And he'd been right. Senn was right now. He was doomed to ruin whatever happiness he could find for himself. Why did he even bother?
He turned and walked away.
"Cross…Crosshair, please don't walk away," Senn pleaded. "I'm sorry, let's talk about it!"
He stopped but didn't look back at him. "As you said, I'm not much of a talker." And you're better off without me.
12.
Crosshair walked down to the humanoid's rooms—Zef-dropped a few credits into his outstretched hand and brought the bottle of SirsKeegan grog down to the isolated part of the beach where he and Omega did target practice.
That's what he knew—weapons, targets, missions. Not messing around on an island paradise with a beautiful boy. Ridiculous. He'd been acting ridiculous, and now he was paying the price. He'd missed his chance to leave with Echo, but there were other ships coming and going here. He'd find a way off-planet and find Echo. If not, there was always mercenary work that paid well. He didn't have to stay here.
He sat in the muddy sands and drank, relishing the burn of the drink going down. The problem was, it reminded him of Senn, of that first night, of the opening, just a little bit, of his bitter little heart. And finding that it wasn't so little after all; it was vast, capable of holding so much lo—
No. He couldn't let his mind go down that road. So he drank, until the world swam, as if he were bobbing on the ocean waves that came in and crashed not far away.
After an indeterminate amount of time, Senn sat down beside him.
Crosshair sighed. "Why are you here?" He looked away and tipped the bottle again.
"I'm good at finding lost things," he replied. "And I'm not giving up on you, Crosshair."
"Why?" Everyone else had at some point. True, his brothers had welcomed him here, tried to bring him back into the fold. But they were moving on, living their own lives.
"Because it's time you moved on, too," Senn replied quietly, as if reading his admittedly disordered thoughts.
"With you?" he asked, a little too sharply.
"Only if you want to, Crosshair," he said, putting a hand on his arm. "Just know that you deserve more than drinking yourself into oblivion."
He wasn't sure he deserved anything. But he looked down at the bottle, and then handed it over to Senn. "I suppose…you can call me Cross. If you want."
Senn smiled and took a swig of the grog, puckering his face as it went down. "Well, it is apt. You're cross most of the time."
"Fair enough."
Senn held out the bottle to him, but he shook his head and closed his eyes. "I'm pretty drunk."
Senn laughed and stood up, holding out a hand. "Come on. Let's get you home."
Home was Senn's rooms, for the most part. He'd hardly spent any time in the room they gave him when he got here. He let Senn help him up, put an arm around his shoulder, and trudged back to Sea Foam Lane.
It was only midafternoon. Senn helped him to the bed, pulled off his boots, and pushed him down onto the pillows. Automatically, Crosshair reached for him.
Senn put a hand on his chest. "Not right now. Sleep it off for a bit. I'll be right here."
Maybe that was a good idea. The room spun sickeningly. He slept for a while. When he woke, his head hurt but at least the room had stopped spinning. Senn was curled up asleep next to him, his back turned to him. Crosshair put an arm around him, and buried his lips in his neck, waking him.
"Senn," he whispered in his ear. He wanted him, again. Always. And, for whatever reason, Senn wanted him back. Crosshair tried to make it up to him, for his foolish jealousy; he ignored his own needs until the very end, focusing on Senn, bringing him to an exhausted, sweaty finish.
When they were done, lying in silence in the rays of the setting sun, Crosshair asked, "Why didn't you ever mention your friend to me?"
Senn looked up at him. "Why didn't you ever mention me to yours?"
"How do you know I didn't?"
Senn gave him a look.
Crosshair sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. Do you…want to meet them?"
Senn sat up. "Um, yes!"
"I suppose I can bring you to Shep's dinner tonight. Wrecker's been bothering me to go."
Senn looked young in his excitement. "Really, Cross?"
Crosshair held up a finger. "But no kissing. Or touching. Or…anything like that. Got it?"
"I'll be on my best behavior, I promise. I won't embarrass you." He leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Thank you, Cross."
"Don't thank me yet. They're an odd bunch." Or a Bad Batch. That's what they used to call themselves. It seemed like a long time ago. He supposed it was.
13.
They walked up the long, winding road to Shep's patio. The patio was lit with colorful lanterns against the setting sun; flowers and viny plants decorated the wall that looked out over the village and upon the open sea. A big table was set with platters of food: a variety of fruits and cut vegetables, fish roll-ups, and loaves of bread. And around the table were his friends: Hunter and the red-headed woman whose name he didn't even know; Tech and Phee; Wrecker, who was already piling his plate up with food; Omega with Shep's daughter, Lyana. They all chatted and laughed together, except Tech, who was pale and quiet, and his wife, who watched him.
All the talk stopped as soon as Crosshair and Senn entered the patio; the group looked over at them in surprise, their mouths slightly open in shock.
It took everything Crosshair had not to grab Senn by the arm and leave; he was doing this for his lover, to make up for his hasty assumption earlier that day.
And then everyone started talking at once.
"Welcome," Shep said happily.
"Hey, you made it!" Wrecker cried, stuffing fruit in his mouth.
"Crosshair!" Omega ran over to him and hugged him. The girl and her hugs.
"Hey, kid," he said.
"Who's your friend?" she asked, looking over at him with her big eyes.
"This is Senn."
"Welcome, Senn," Phee said, taking her eyes off her troubled husband for a moment.
"I didn't know Crosshair had a friend," Omega said guilelessly. There were a few chuckles from the group.
"Crosshair is…showing me how to shoot," Senn said, diplomatically answering the question that was no doubt on everyone's mind.
"Me too!" Omega said excitedly. "Maybe we can train together."
Senn bent down to her eye level. "I'd like that, Omega."
"How do you know my name?"
"I know all your names. Clone Force 99 is famous on Pabu. I just never had a chance to meet you all."
"Hah, we're famous," Wrecker said.
"As long we're not famous anywhere else," Hunter said, coming forward. He held out his hand to Senn. "I'm Hunter."
"It's nice to meet you," Senn said, beaming.
"Please, sit and eat," Shep said, extending his hand toward the table.
They all sat down again, making room for Crosshair and Senn. Crosshair was still feeling the effects of the grog on his stomach, and only picked. Senn ate heartily, happily chatting with them all. Crosshair was surprised at how well this was all going, but he couldn't completely relax. He watched Tech, and realized there was something wrong.
Tech had his datapad in his hand, as he often did, but didn't look at it at all, as he often did, even in company. He either stared out over the sea or looked down at his hands; he didn't touch his food. Tech wasn't a big eater, but he always ate what was required, no more, no less. He barely spoke; usually Tech wasn't afraid to pipe up and talk someone's ear off about the most boring subjects. Crosshair kind of wished he would regale them all with a lecture on hyperdrive mechanics. It would have been better than this troubling silence. Phee watched him worriedly, trying to get him to talk; she only received a wan smile from him. He looked as if he hadn't slept in a while. Everyone noticed but pretended they didn't; Senn kept glancing over at him curiously.
Over dessert—a kind of gelatinous fruit pudding—Crosshair caught Phee's eye and stood, moving to stand by the railing. After a minute she got up as well and came over to him.
"Hey, Toothpick, glad you could come," she said, trying to inflect the usual teasing into her voice. But it didn't quite work.
"What's wrong with him?" Crosshair asked in a low voice, nodding toward Tech.
"I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "He hasn't been the same since that mission. I keep asking him about it, but he keeps saying it went fine. We both know Tech's not a good liar." She looked straight at him. "You were there, Crosshair. Did something happen?"
He hesitated. He'd promised Tech he wouldn't mention it to Phee. Well, he didn't exactly promise. He was saved from answering by Hunter, who had seen them talking and came over to where they stood.
"Echo told me what happened. Phee, he broke down in the middle of a firefight. Some sort of panic fit."
Phee glared at him. "And you didn't think you should have told me?" she hissed. "Hunter, I'm his wife!"
"He didn't want you to worry. I thought it best to wait and see. In your condition—"
"My condition? I'm not a wilting flower, for kriff's sake—"
"I know that—"
"You know I can hear you." This was from Tech, sitting at the table not far away. It sounded as if he'd spoken through clenched teeth, which was jarring coming from him. They all looked over. He had his head in his hands, bent over as if in pain, the same as at the Imperial station.
"Tech," Hunter began. Phee moved toward him.
"Stop," Tech said, and Crosshair wasn't sure if he meant stop arguing, stop coming toward him, or stop whatever it was that was happening in his head. Phee took another step, but Tech held a hand up, still not looking at them.
"Stop!"
14.
Senn was having a lovely time. Crosshair's friends—his family—had welcomed him with open arms. He loved them all already.
But something was wrong with Tech. He could sense it across the table, although it was obvious to everyone that he wasn't himself. Senn didn't want to probe him, but the emotions radiating off him were concerning.
Crosshair sent a signal to Phee, and they talked quietly at the balustrade, glancing at Tech. Hunter approached and said a few words, Phee reacting angrily. Tech's state only worsened, and then he spoke, holding his head in his hands.
"Stop!"
15.
All the conversation on the patio died, and everyone looked over. Senn, who had been talking with Shep, stood and edged over slowly.
"What's going on, Tech?" Hunter prompted gently.
"It is all still there," Tech muttered. "Deep inside. In my dreams. The Shadow. It wants to come out." His hands twitched to his blasters at his sides. Shep didn't allow the villagers to carry weapons, but he made an exception for the clones, who unofficially protected them from threats, on and off the planet. He hadn't realized one of the clones themselves would be a threat.
Crosshair's own hand strayed to the grip of his blaster; he saw Hunter do the same.
Phee took another tentative step toward her husband. "Baby, whatever this is…we can deal with it. Just—"
"You have to get away!" Teched yelled. He panted, as if fighting something he couldn't control. "Or…or I do."
He moved quickly, before anyone could even blink, vaulting toward the balcony behind him.
"No!" screamed Phee.
Everyone seemed to move forward, all of them willing to go over with Tech to try to stop him.
None of them had to, it turned out.
16.
Senn had long suspected his abilities came from the Force. He'd heard tales of the Jedi, of their "mind tricks." He wasn't certain, of course, but what else could it be? When he was younger, he'd tried to move objects with his mind to test the theory. At first, he couldn't do it—nothing happened. But as he kept at it, the object—a rock, a tool, his toothbrush—moved just a tiny bit. More like a vibration than anything else, sometimes a little spin. But nothing more. He'd never be a Jedi, and he accepted that. He was actually glad, for if he'd been stronger and entered the Order, he'd most likely be dead now.
But as he witnessed Tech leap from the table and hurl himself over the balustrade, he had no time to think. No time to worry if it would work, if he had the strength. He had to act.
Now.
17.
They all gaped in astonishment. Tech was halfway over the wall, one hand on its surface, his legs in the process of going over. But they didn't. He was motionless in the air, his forward movement arrested.
It took a moment for Crosshair to process what he was seeing. And then Tech was moving back over the balustrade, an unseen force controlling his movements. When his feet touched the tiles of the patio, his legs gave out and he slumped down against the wall. Phee made a strangled sound and ran to him.
Crosshair—and everyone else—looked around. To see Senn holding out his arm, his hand stretched toward Tech, lowering it as he landed safely.
"What—" Crosshair uttered, but Senn held up a hand without looking at him and went to Tech, kneeling in front of him.
Phee held her husband, but he still looked wild-eyed and breathless. "You have to—" he began again.
"Tech, look at me," Senn said in a firm but gentle voice. Tech's eyes met Senn's. "Listen to my voice. Are you listening?"
"Y-Yes."
"Good. Keep listening. You're calm. You're at peace. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Say it. You're calm."
Tech swallowed hard. "I am calm."
"You're at peace."
"I am at peace."
"Feel my words. Do you feel them?"
"Yes." Tech's breathing slowed, and the panic in his eyes eased. But they filled with unshed tears.
Senn reached out and touched his arm. "Everything is fine," he continued in that hypnotic voice. "You want to go home with your wife. Don't you?"
"Yes." Tech looked at Phee. "Phee?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"I want to go home."
"You got it." She helped him to his feet, her arm around him.
Senn's hand was still on Tech's arm. "Rest. Your sleep will be sound. We'll talk some more later. All right?"
Tech nodded, leaning on Phee. She looked at Senn gratefully.
"Thank you," she told him.
Senn smiled at her, and everyone watched as they left the patio. Then they all swiveled their heads toward Senn, who seemed to slump with exhaustion.
"Whoa," Wrecker said into the silence that followed. "You're a Jedi!"
"No," Senn said quickly, looking at all of them, but settling his gaze on Crosshair. "I'm not a Jedi, I swear." His eyes were pleading.
"We all fought alongside the Jedi during the war," Hunter said. "We know what they can do. And what you just did qualifies."
Senn was shaking his head. "I've never been a Jedi. They never found me, never brought me to their temple to train. I lived on my home world my whole life, until I came here. I found I had…abilities, that I kept to myself. Mostly mental suggestions, that sort of thing, like you just saw. I use it to help people with their trauma here." He looked at Crosshair. "That's what I was doing with Loona earlier. Calming her mind, easing her stress. That's all." He shrugged. "As far as moving things with my mind—I'm not so good at that. I didn't even know if I'd be able to stop Tech. I just—did it without thinking."
"Well, thank you for that," Hunter said. "Jedi or not, we owe you one. You don't have to worry. You're safe here."
"But the Empire hunts Force-sensitive people," he said in a tight voice. "They—"
"Don't know about this place," Shep said, stepping closer. "Not yet, anyway. And if they do come, we'll keep you safe. You're one of ours."
"Thank you." He looked over at Crosshair. "Cross…"
Crosshair, unable to say a word this whole time, turned on his heel and walked away.
"Let him go for now," he heard Hunter say behind him, presumably to Senn who wanted to follow. "It's a lot to take in."
That was the understatement of the galaxy.
He didn't even feel angry, just numb. How was he supposed to feel? Senn had kept this from him. Senn, who had always known intuitively how Crosshair was feeling, what he needed, what he desired. The clues had been there, and he'd been blind to them. Blinded by—by love. He'd been beginning to think he was in love with Senn.
But now? How could he know if any of it was real? If Senn hadn't manipulated his mind? His heart?
This is what you get, he thought. This is what you get for thinking you deserve happiness, deserve love. Fool. He was the biggest fool in the galaxy.
No, he wasn't angry. Angry at himself, perhaps. What he did feel was a profound sense of grief.
He was going to find a way off this planet, as soon as he possibly could.
18.
Senn trudged home, fell into bed, and slept. The effort of preventing Tech from going over that balustrade had drained him. He'd never used the Force in such a way before, at that scale. He was still amazed that he had done it. He hadn't been consciously trying, like with the inanimate objects of his youth; it simply had to be done, urgently, without question. Perhaps that was the key.
He was too tired to think on it just now; he was just glad he'd saved Crosshair's brother. He sensed there was much work still to be done to help Tech. There was a….shadow, inside him, haunting him. Don't worry about that now; one day at a time.
Crosshair. What he must think. He'd do it again, of course, but his heart ached at Cross feeling betrayed. He should have told him early on. Should have been honest with him. Why hadn't he been? Afraid. Of what he would think. Of being rejected. But it had come to that anyway, hadn't it? He wanted to go find him, talk to him, plead with him.
But he was so tired.
Let it be for now.
Sleep….
19.
The next day, Crosshair spent time at the commissary, the patio bar, and other public places, asking around. Finally, he found a Pantoran couple who were going back to their home world to visit family. They'd give him a ride as far as that, but then he was on his own.
It suited him. He could inquire on Pantora about mercenary work. Maybe he'd become a bounty hunter. Who knew? His future lay before him, and he was going to decide how to spend it, probably for the first time in his life. Created by the Kaminoans for a purpose, used by the Republic, and then the Empire, an inhibitor chip making his decisions for him, and then the lies of the Empire. He came here with his brothers, but their paths were different from his. He finally knew what freedom was. Why hadn't he seen it before?
He told Hunter first. He found him with Shep, going over plans for a new building on the peninsula. They stepped out into the mild rain that fell, the first rain he'd seen on the island.
"I'm leaving," he said to Hunter without preamble. "Tonight."
Hunter crossed his arms, surveying him. "You stayed longer than I thought you would, to be honest."
"I…got distracted."
He smirked. "That's a good distraction to have."
Crosshair only grunted.
"Where will you go?"
"Hitching a ride to Pantora. After that, who knows? But I decide."
"I'm glad for you, Crosshair. Truly." He put a hand on Crosshair's arm. "Just know you're always welcome here. You're our brother."
Crosshair nodded. "If you need me, use my personal comm channel. I'll come."
This time Hunter nodded.
Crosshair hesitated. "Do me a favor and keep an eye on him. Keep him safe." He didn't need to say who.
"Consider it done."
Crosshair turned to go. And because he was who he was, he stopped and said, "By the way. Omega has a boyfriend."
"What? Wait—"
"See you around, Hunter."
He smiled as he walked away.
20.
He knocked on the door of Tech and Phee's shared residence, a set of rooms on the lowest level near the beach.
Phee answered. "You look like a drowned munyo," she said in her usual drawl.
"Thanks."
She went into another room and came back with a towel.
"How is he?" he asked as he dried off.
"See for yourself," she replied, taking the towel back. "He's in the workroom."
He crossed the common room, which was cluttered with some of Phee's "ancient wonders." He wondered how Tech dealt with Phee's natural disorder; he'd always been neat and precise as a laser.
The workroom was clearly Tech's, as equipment and tools were stacked neatly and hung on walls in some sort of order. Tech sat on a stool at a bench, working intently on something.
"What is it?" Crosshair asked, perching on another stool next to him.
Tech finished up with the spanner, a few sparks flying as he did so. He held up his project, showing it to Crosshair. It was a tiny droid with articulated arms and legs.
"It is a toy. For the baby." He pushed a few buttons on its chest, and it beeped and booped. "Phee assures me she will be too young to appreciate it for a few years," he added, setting it down.
"She?"
"We are having a daughter."
A strange lump formed in Crosshair's throat. He swallowed it away. "I'm happy for you, Tech."
"I am as well."
"So…how are you?"
Tech tinkered with the toy again. "I think with Senn's help and time, I should be fine."
"Good."
"I want to thank you, Crosshair."
"For what?"
"If you had not brought Senn to dinner last night, I would be dead. And my child would have no father."
"Well…what was that the Jedi used to say? The Force provides."
Tech shot him a penetrating look. "Do not be too hard on him, Crosshair. The way is not always clear when it comes to love. It is a state of being that is…unquantifiable."
"Who said anything about love?"
Tech raised an eyebrow at him, a very un-Tech-like expression. But they'd all changed. "I thought it was obvious."
Crosshair almost laughed. Tech gave a small smile.
"I'm leaving tonight, Tech."
Tech nodded. "I suspected as much. You're not prone to midday visits unless it is for a specific reason. Because of Senn?"
"Because many reasons." He was silent for a moment. "I need to be the only one in my head for a while."
"I understand," Tech said quietly, looking out the far window, where rain pattered against the panes.
"I know you do." He stood up from the stool. "Keep working with Senn. He'll help you."
Tech stood as well, and they clapped arms. "Good luck, brother," Tech said.
"And you."
On his way out, Phee stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Crosshair. Don't be a stranger, all right?" She glanced toward the workroom. "He needs his brothers. All of them."
He nodded. As he left the house, he saw Omega running up with Wrecker close behind.
"Crosshair," she said breathlessly, "Hunter says you're leaving!"
"Yeah, weren't you gonna say goodbye?" Wrecker demanded.
"You were on the list. Now I don't have to look for you."
"But why are you going?" Omega cried. "Don't you like it here with us?" Strands of her blonde hair were stuck to her forehead with rain.
He sighed. "You're a smart kid. You know the answer."
She looked down at her feet. "Just because you don't like it here doesn't mean you don't like us. Right?"
"Right." He lifted her chin. "Keep practicing. And you might get as good as me someday."
"I promise," she whispered. Water droplets fell down her cheeks, but it could have been the rain. He didn't think so, though. "Will you ever come back?"
"I'll need to check on your progress, right? I expect improvement. And there will be a baby to meet, I suppose."
"Oh yeah!" she said, clenching her fists in excitement.
He bent down and kissed her on the top of the head. "Goodbye, Omega."
"Hey, don't forget me!" Wrecker said, coming up and giving him a bear hug, lifting him off the ground.
"All right, all right." Wrecker set him down. Crosshair poked him in his soft belly. "Work on this. It's embarrassing."
"Oh, all right," Wrecker grumbled. "I'm gonna miss ya, Crosshair."
"Believe it or not, Wrecker," he said, "I guess I'll miss you, too."
21.
When Senn woke, it was raining. His clock said he'd been sleeping eighteen hours. Wow. The Force meant business. He ate a little, hit the refresher, and then left his rooms, throwing a waterproof poncho over his head.
He knocked on Tech and Phee's door. When Phee answered, she smiled and pulled him in. He was dripping, but she hugged him anyway.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"I'm glad I was there to help."
"As am I," Tech said, coming out of the workroom. He was still pale, but the dark circles under his eyes weren't as bad today. He must have slept well.
"Please, sit," Phee said, taking his poncho and hanging it up near the door. "I'll make tea." She busied herself in the kitchen.
Senn sat on the sofa next to Tech. "How are you feeling today?"
"Fine," Tech answered automatically. Senn waited. Tech looked at him, then down at his hands. "Afraid."
"What are you afraid of?"
"Myself." He glanced toward the kitchen, worry etching his face.
"You call it your shadow. Don't you?"
Tech looked at him in surprise. "Yes. But I have told no one that. Not even Phee." Then realization dawned. "Of course you know. You have the Force. Did Crosshair know you are Force-sensitive, or did he find out with the rest of us?"
It was Senn's turn to look down at his hands. "No, I didn't tell him. I'm used to hiding it. Or at least, I never called it that." Then he shook his head. If he wanted Tech to be honest with him, he had to return the favor. "That's only partly true. I was afraid he wouldn't want me if he knew."
"I don't think that is Crosshair's reason for leaving, if it makes you feel any better. He just needs time to—"
"He's leaving?" Senn nearly rose from the sofa with alarm.
"You do not know?"
"I haven't seen him since last night. Is he still here?" Panic surged in his belly.
Phee came into the room with steaming cups of tea. "He was just here to say goodbye. He didn't tell you?" Her voice was laced with disapproval.
"No." He was leaving. Leaving Pabu. And he hadn't told him or said goodbye.
"If you go now, you might catch him at the landing pad," Phee suggested.
He looked helplessly at them, conflicted.
"We can talk more later," Tech assured him. "Go."
"Thanks," he said. He got up and ran out the door, forgetting his poncho, but the rain was slackening. He didn't care if the skies opened up and drenched him. He ran up the mountain as if his life depended on it.
22.
Crosshair finally got through his goodbyes and was heading toward the ship at the landing pad, where the two Pantorans were waiting. The rain had stopped, and the sky was beginning to clear, just in time for the sun to sink into the sea. He sighed as he walked toward the ramp. Goodbyes were difficult, but he owed them all that, at least.
But he wasn't done yet, it seemed.
"You promised, Cross."
The familiar voice came from behind him. He stopped, looking down at the ground. This would be the hardest. He turned.
"You promised you wouldn't leave again without saying goodbye," Senn said, looking as beautiful as ever in the reddish rays of the westering sun. His hair was wet, plastered to his forehead, and he was out of breath.
"Did I?"
Senn shook his head. "Don't. Not now."
Crosshair put down his gear. Senn was right. He owed him this, too.
"Senn. I'm not leaving you. I'm…finding myself."
"I know." He shifted his feet. "You don't think…whatever's between us, you know it's real, right? I would never—it doesn't work that way. You can't make someone love you. You doubt because you never thought yourself capable of love. But you are, Cross. You're capable. And your worthy. And…I love you."
Crosshair took the few steps between them, put a hand on Senn's cheek, and kissed him, hard, not caring who saw or what they thought. "Hold onto that thought," he said, their foreheads touching. "I'll get back to you."
He turned and grabbed his gear, walking toward the ship. As he strode up the ramp, he heard Senn behind him.
"I'll be waiting."
The ramp closed behind him. "Ready?" the Pantoran in the cockpit asked.
"I'm ready."
And he was.