Chapter 14 – I'm Miles Away from Yesterday
Author's Note: I know this is a horrible place to leave y'all hanging, buuuut this is the last chapter I have written right now. XD There is So Much Angst here. Curious to see any predictions/thoughts you have!
~ Amina Gila
Tech settles in the Marauder to look over the datachip, the rest of them gathering in the cockpit to see what they need to do. "According to Cid's intel, the Zygerrian slave traders are hiding in the ruins of Old Ord Mantell city," Tech informs them after a few minutes of silence and some typing. "We will head there and scout it out, see what we're up against."
He turns toward the controls, firing up the engines and lifting off.
"What's a slave trader?" Omega asks, leaning forward.
"A slave trader is someone who buys and sells people for credits," Tech answers.
Omega jerks back. "People can be sold?"
He glances at her. "Well, of course. The Republic purchased the clone armies from the Kaminoans. Clones are not part of the Sentient Rights Act and as such, we are not protected by the anti-slave trade laws. Legally, we are not considered sentient and are property of the Republic."
Omega's expression becomes even more horrified, and Crosshair looks away, jaw clenching as he folds his arms across his chest. He knows that they are technically nothing more than property. That doesn't mean he likes to think about it, much less hear it laid out so plainly. "That – that's not right," she says, her voice wavering.
"It's not," Crosshair responds heatedly.
"We're gonna save that kid," Wrecker agrees.
"As well as earn a decent amount of credits once the job is complete," Tech adds.
They land on a rocky outcropping overlooking the ruins of the city, and they approach on foot. Crosshair unslings his rifle, using the scope to get a visual while the others look through macrobinoculars. "I have a visual on the Zygerrians," Crosshair reports, "And I see one kid."
"Poor Muchi. She looks scared," Omega murmurs.
"I'm clocking two dozen hostiles. Multiple entry points with minor fortification," Tech tells them.
Crosshair scans the area. Doesn't look hard, not for them, even if they're down two.
Wrecker laughs. "Simple smash 'n grab like that time on Kuat. Easy enough."
"There are only three of us," Tech snaps. "Do not overestimate our chances."
"What?" Crosshair drawls. "You think we can't do it?"
"I did not say that," Tech answers sharply. He lowers the macrobinoculars to look at them. "Omega should probably stay on the ship. Her training is still minimal. She is not ready for field missions yet."
"But – we're a squad!" Omega protests defensively.
Oh, really? Crosshair scoffs before he can stop himself. "Are we?"
The look Wrecker gives him is betrayed. "'Course we are!" He sounds wounded.
Crosshair shakes his head. "Then why are we always fighting?" he asks bitterly. Ever since they left Kamino, ever since Echo joined Rex again, it feels like they've been at each other's throats non-stop.
There's a moment where they all look at anything but each other as his words hang over them. Finally, Tech straightens. "Very well. Crosshair, up top. Wrecker, cause a diversion to distract them. Omega and I will get the kid."
Wrecker rolls his shoulders, and Crosshair doesn't need to see his face to know he's feeling gleeful about it. "Not a problem."
Wordlessly, Crosshair draws his hand blaster from its holster, passing it to Omega. She needs a weapon to defend herself with, even if she's never been trained with a blaster before. It'll at least give her an advantage.
They drop down the embankment, picking their way through the rocks as they stay low, out of sight of the guards. Crosshair splits away from them, climbing the backside of the ruins to settle on the roof overlooking the courtyard where the slaves are being kept. His arm is still healing, but the pain is nothing he hadn't dealt with before. He's acutely aware of the way they're down to only three, but he doesn't doubt them. They can do this. They were trained well, and they were commandos. They've gone on much harder missions than this.
He perches on the roof of the tower, rifle aimed as he scans the area. "Two patrols on speeders," he reports into his comm. "First guard checkpoint dead ahead." He senses movement, his instincts telling him that someone or something is sneaking up on him. "Hold on. I got company."
"Try not to ruin the element of surprise," Tech advises.
Crosshair sees the movement and hears a low growl as a massive, winged lizard of some type creeps up the side of the building. "Not gonna be an option," he answers, swinging up his rifle and firing for its eyes. He doesn't know what kind of creature this exactly, but he knows from experience that the eyes of anything are the weakest point. It howls as the blaster bolt goes into its eye and through its skull, sending blood and brains splattering everywhere. Yuck.
It swings its tail at him, and he's tossed off the roof. He scrabbles to catch himself on the edge, but his rifle slips past him and he jumps after it, rolling to a crouch when he lands. Well, so much for being up top.
"Go!" Tech yells, and Wrecker lunges forward, throwing himself at the Zygerrians. Crosshair brings up his rifle and starts shooting, taking them down one after another, but they recover quickly – too quickly. Tech starts firing, too, covering for Omega, and the three of them close in on the Zygerrians. It's all going relatively well until a Zygerrian lifts an energy blaster, firing an electric net at Wrecker. He goes down, spasming, and Crosshair curses under his breath. Without Wrecker, they're at even more of a disadvantage. There's a cage nearby him, at his back, and he doesn't know what's in it, but it must contain an animal of some kind given the stomping and snarling he can hear.
He spins, shooting at the lock keeping the cage secured. There's a roar from inside, and Crosshair can see the panic among the Zygerrians as the doors slowly swing open. With a crash, a rancor lunges from the cage.
"Don't let her get away!" shouts one of the Zygerrians, they turn their weapons onto the rampaging rancor.
"How is an adolescent rancor a diversion?" Tech yells as he and Omega pick their way to the slaves. Crosshair slides across the ground, darting to Wrecker's side to check on him.
"You're welcome," he says to Tech, shaking Wrecker's shoulder. "C'mon, Wrecker, get up."
They can't get the chains or collars off the slaves without his strength unless they can find the controllers. Well, Echo might have been able to, but he's not here, either. Wrecker groans weakly, and Crosshair ducks as a blaster bolt flies over his head. He spins, taking out two Zygerrians in rapid succession. There are only a few left now, and he thinks most of them are trying to flee.
One of them tries to use the electric net on the rancor, but it bats him aside, charging across the clearing right toward where the slaves – and Tech and Omega – are. Kriff. If he doesn't deal with that thing, it'll get them all killed. He shoots at it, and it snarls, whirling on him. He scrambles backward, away from it, but it springs at him. A huge foot slams into him, and he's tossed aside, head slamming into a rock hard enough to momentarily stun him.
His vision swims, nearly blacking out, as he pushes himself upright with a groan. Everything is swimming in front of him, and he's seeing doubles. He must have hit his head pretty hard, and – oh, he must have missed time, too, because Wrecker is on his feet now, wrestling with the rancor to keep it away from Tech while the kid ushers the now-freed slaves to safety. A shadow falls on the ground, and Crosshair turns his head to see a surviving Zygerrian approaching him, blaster raised. His rifle is too far away for him to get it raised in time, so he reaches for his hand blaster instead, only to find that the holster is empty.
Right. He gave it to Omega. Kriff.
He reaches for the vibroknife instead which he spontaneously had attached to his thigh. Normally, carrying a knife is what Wrecker and Hunter do, but he's gotten used to it, so he'd wanted to keep it. He shoves upward, ignoring how much his vision is spinning, catching the man's wrist and twisting it, while ramming the knife into his gut in the same move. The Zygerrian chokes, staggering back, and Crosshair kicks him over, yanking the bloody blade free and sending the blaster skittering out of reach.
He goes for his rifle next, bracing it on his shoulder as he shoots at the rancor. It whirls on him with a howl, and he aims for its eyes. The blaster bolt hits it in the head, and it goes down like the lizard-creature from before. Somehow. He hadn't been certain that he was aiming at the right rancor – his vision is still swimming.
"Crosshair!" calls Wrecker, running toward him as he drops to his knees. His injuries are catching up to him now. His bicep is burning fiercely, and he hopes he didn't tear the burn open again. His head is aching from where it was slammed into a rock, and its unclear which direction is up.
"Ugh. M'fine," he grumbles, swatting at Wrecker's hand when he reaches for him, but he misses wildly if the way Wrecker catches his wrist is any indication.
Wrecker tugs him to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him steady as they make their way toward Tech and Omega.
"We have a problem," Tech says flatly as they approach. "Muchi was the rancor."
Crosshair tilts his head to look at the dead body on the ground, blood pooling under its head. "Well," he says eloquently, "Kriff."
Wrecker takes him back to the Marauder since he's stumbling around from his concussion. Omega goes with him while Wrecker and Tech figure out what to do. They decide to take the body with them in case the previous owners want it back. Crosshair applies a med patch to his head in the hopes of relieving some of the pain and symptoms and then lays down on the lower rack to rest until they're ready to leave.
This is the first mission they've ever failed.
Or – actually no, it's not, and Crosshair tries to stop the insidious whispers creeping into his mind, but he can't tamp them down nearly as effectively as he would like to. The first mission they failed was Onderon because they didn't listen to Hunter. When they stopped following Hunter's orders, everything fell apart. That's why they are where they are now instead of… together. They should be together. They're supposed to be together. Hunter's supposed to be leading them. He's the one who always protected them, looked out for them. But they abandoned him and ran away because… what? They thought they knew better than him? If they couldn't get him away from the Empire, they should have stayed. They're going to die here, because of Hunter's missing leadership.
"Are you okay?" Omega asks softly, and Crosshair feels her hand on his a moment later.
He groans. It feels like a monumental effort to move his arm from off his helmet to look at her. "Let me die in peace."
She has a Zygerrian energy bow tucked under her arm, and he frowns when he sees it.
"What's that for, kid?"
She falters before realizing what he's talking about and lifts the bow up. "I dunno," she answers. "It's an interesting weapon. I kinda like it."
"Mm. I can show you how it works. Later."
Her expression lights up, and somehow, Crosshair wonders if that's what she'd been hoping. Makes sense. Bows are a long-range weapon and he's a sniper. He can teach her. A bow might be easier for her to use than a blaster anyway since she'll be able to stay a distance away while still participating. She did good today, he thinks, but she's still just a kid. She's not a mercenary. Not yet.
They take Muchi's body with them back to Cid's, and it's a rather clumsy, messy affair. Crosshair's recovered enough to stay on his feet at least since gravity has stopped disagreeing with him, but he's not confident in his ability to walk in a straight line at all. Everything is still spinning if he moves too quickly.
And he's still angry.
He doesn't know if he's more angry at them or at Hunter. It's an anger that's been there since Kamino, burning just under the surface, and now, it's raging furiously. They failed. They failed a mission. They never fail missions. But they failed this one.
They should never have left Hunter behind.
Hunter's scream still rings in his ears.
"I do not believe Cid will be very happy with this outcome," Tech warns as they head toward her parlor. Dragging a dead rancor with them is getting far more attention than Crosshair is comfortable with. Good thing this is an underworld planet, or the authorities would be on top of them already. "It is likely that she will not compensate us, and she may not give us the intel, either. We may need to find an alternate solution."
"Great," Crosshair says dryly, "So we went through all this trouble for nothing."
Tech throws him a sideways look, as if trying to see if he's being insulted. "I could not possibly have known that we were being sent after a rancor."
"Yeah, we know that," Wrecker grumbles, "But I don't think she does."
The glare Cid gives them when they show up and dump the body outside her parlor is almost enough to make Crosshair second-guess his first instinct to stab her. "I told you to rescue her, not kill her!"
"You neglected to inform us that this Muchi was a rancor," Tech snaps, and it's just as fierce and heated as any of Crosshair's snarls. "Our success is only as good as the intel we are given."
She huffs, still scowling. "You don't get paid for a mission failure."
"Technically, the mission was a success," Tech argues. "You have the rancor back from the Zygerrians, and –"
"Doesn't do a whole lot of good to me if she's dead!"
"Do you have the intel or not?" Crosshair interjects because that's what's most important. They didn't come here to earn credits. They came here to find out who sent Bane after Omega.
Cid glares but finally concedes. "My office. All of you." She leads them back to it, settling at her desk. "My sources in the Guild say Bane was working on a direct commission. Someone powerful, with connections, must have hired him. He doesn't work for just anyone. With someone like him nipping at your heels, you're going to need two things: friends and money. Mostly money."
"We have neither in abundance right now," Tech states crisply, "But Bane is dead. He will not be coming after us again."
Cid scoffs. "You got someone like Bane on your tail, it don't matter if he's dead or not. There will be others coming. It's a good thing you met me. If you're looking for work…" She doesn't finish the sentence, but her meaning is obvious.
"We will consider it," Tech says.
She leans forward, studying them curiously. "It's interesting, someone like Bane being after you. You fellas must be pretty valuable." Crosshair bristles at the not-unobvious threat, but she merely waves a hand. "Settle down, sniper. I'm good with secrets."
Too good, Crosshair wants to say but doesn't as they finally leave Cid's parlor, heading back to the Marauder. Unlike Tech and Wrecker, he's keeping his helmet on to block out outside stimuli. He's even activated the filter in his helmet, so he doesn't get overwhelmed by excess light. His head is throbbing enough, and any bright lights will feel like Wrecker's vibroknife being jabbed repeatedly into his skull.
"Technically, Cid is not wrong that we will need friends and money to avoid whoever else may be coming," Tech informs them once they're safely back on the ship. "We may have allies, but we cannot rely on Echo and Rex every time something comes up."
"Ya think we should work for her?" Wrecker asks.
"I am not sure if we have another option," Tech answers. "We have already pulled a job for her, and she knows us. I am certain she can provide us with other opportunities in the future, and it is not as though anywhere we go will be different than this. Either we live on the run, or we find a place where we are relatively safe with someone who could be a useful ally. At least here, we have a chance at finding out who is after Omega."
Crosshair slumps further into his seat, arms crossed. "And to think we could have avoided this by staying with Hunter."
Everyone freezes, and for a moment, he's not sure anyone is even breathing.
They haven't talked about Hunter much since they left Kamino. The last time he was mentioned was when Tech took his comm device and refitted it for Omega, but that was only in passing, and they haven't addressed it since.
The look Tech gives him is equal parts angry and reproachful. "We were following Hunter's decision to go AWOL. That was the only option for us."
But we left him behind, Crosshair wants to scream. We don't do that. Loyalty is important. "Were we?" he asks scathingly, "Or did we push him to make a decision he didn't want to make?"
Tech jolts back, reaching up to adjust his goggles. "We could not stay with the Empire after we were ordered to target civilians, Crosshair. We all knew that. What is your issue?"
"We're soldiers," he spits. "We do what needs to be done. We're a squad. Or we were." He pushes to his feet, prowling closer to where Tech is sitting in the pilot's seat. Almost instinctively, his older brother stands to face him, and Crosshair jabs a finger at his chest, not quite touching him. He's conscious of the way Tech sometimes shies away from physical contact. They all know to respect Tech's boundaries, to not make prolonged eye contact, look at him for too long, or touch him extensively.
"And then you hurt Hunter. You didn't hear him scream." It's more a snarl than a yell, but he might as well have slapped Tech from the look on his face.
It makes him pull back a bit, suddenly mindful that he's gone too far as guilt curls within him. He – he shouldn't have said that, any of that. Tech's only trying to take care of them the same way Hunter did. He can't replace Hunter, yeah, but he's not trying to. He's just – Tech. He takes care of them, too.
Wrecker looks away, and Omega pulls in on herself, gaze darting between them anxiously. No one speaks. No one moves. And the silence is so overwhelming that Crosshair feels the violent need to shatter it. He wants to break something. He wants – he wants –
He wants to make something hurt.
He didn't mean to lash out at Tech like that, but he won't take it back either. He meant every single word he said.
"No one is stopping you from leaving," Tech says finally, stiffly. He's looking down at his datapad, fingers tapping on the side of it, though it's obvious he's not really seeing what's on the screen. "If you want to go back to the Empire, then go."
Crosshair jolts backward, stumbling a bit as his concussion chooses that moment to kick in, making his head throb harder. He's acutely aware of the panicked expression on Wrecker's face, his eye focused on him pleadingly. For the first time ever, words fail him, and the awkward, strained silence persists.
"Go lay down." Tech's voice is just as cool as before, but Crosshair can pick out the genuine concern underlying it. "You're injured. You'll need to be rested up if we will be working for Cid." It would be less scary if he yelled.
He scowls. "I'm not a child, Tech." He doesn't need to be sent off to bed like one.
Tech meets his gaze. His eyes are hard, angry, and Crosshair flinches back from them inside even if he stands his ground outwardly. What did he do why did he say that –
It doesn't matter if it's true. This is Tech. He and Crosshair don't argue. Not like this.
"Then stop acting like one."
Crosshair goes.
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