Echo held the basket carefully, trying to balance it with the upper portion of his right arm as he looked at his teammates. "We should regroup somewhere safer."

"After we get back to the evac point," Hunter said. "We have to bring the kid back to her mother."

"The probability of our getting there unnoticed is . . . small," said Tech, apparently unable to put an exact number to their odds. "The Marauder is surrounded by droids, and it is positioned on our way there."

"Getting around 'em unnoticed wouldn't be too hard," Crosshair said, resting a hand on his waist.

"Not for you," grumbled Wrecker.

"Yeah," said Echo. "Besides, going around would take a long time, even for Crosshair or Hunter. It's too cold to risk that with the baby."

"What about the tower?" Hunter asked. "It's warmer than here, anyway. Of course, it might end up being the droids' primary target . . ."

Echo looked down at the whimpering baby. "Well, hopefully we'll be able to attack before they think of invading. Either way, it's probably our best bet for now."

"Okay." Now that a decision had been made, Hunter took charge again. "Tech, you and I will go first. Keep a sharp eye out for scouts. Crosshair, watch our backs. Echo, you and Wrecker look after the kid."

He and Tech left, and Wrecker moved to the door.

Echo shifted the basket again and took a step forward, grimacing as it slipped a little against his scomp link. "Wrecker, you're gonna have to carry her. My hand –"

Wrecker turned back to face him, then actually withdrew.

Echo set the basket carefully on the table. "What's the matter?"

". . . What if I break her?" Wrecker mumbled.

Echo paused. "You won't break her. You're just holding the basket. Be careful not to slip, and let us handle any droids that turn up, and it'll be fine."

"Oh, boy . . ." Wrecker winced, but clipped his blaster to his belt and approached the table with his arms out to either side, as though he were attempting to keep his balance.

"Hurry up," hissed Crosshair. "The others are nearly at the tower already."

"Yeah, how 'bout you carry her," Wrecker said, resting a cautious hand on the edge of the basket.

Crosshair pretended not to have heard.

Echo didn't know whether to smile or roll his eyes, so he did both. "Wrecker, come on. I promise, she'll be fine."

Wrecker hunched his shoulders slightly, then picked up the basket and held it to his chest with both arms wrapped around it. "Like this?"

Echo had never held a baby before, but he'd carried plenty of cargo around, and she was in a basket. It couldn't be all that different. "Yeah," he said, hoping that he was correct. "Let's go."

"About time," snipped Crosshair, who would have probably been even more wary than Wrecker.

The three of them moved quietly through the dark streets to the tower and slipped in through the back door, which Hunter held open. He led them up the stairs to the second floor, where Tech was waiting. The circular room was furnished with a couple of chairs, a woven rug on the wooden floor, and a small table. It looked rather homelike, Echo thought, though at the moment he was tempted to use the table and chairs for firewood. It was cold, and would only get colder as the night grew darker.

"Okay, lads," Hunter said. "What have we got for supplies? Just the usual, right?"

"Right," said Crosshair, lounging back against one wall and folding his arms. "And we're running low on ammo."

Hunter checked his blaster, then set it on the table next to his helmet. "Yeah. How many droids at the Separatist base, Tech?"

"One hundred and twelve," Tech said with a faint frown.

"That's a lot, even for us," said Echo. "Especially without grenades."

"We're overdue for a resupply," Hunter agreed. "Let's wait and see if they leave on their own. Tech, you keep tabs on that tactical droid and let me know if anything changes."

"Understood." Tech sat down cross-legged, took off his helmet, and set to work.

Echo considered keeping his helmet on – he could feel the cold even through his blacks – but it wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing in the galaxy. He removed it and put it on the table. "We have any heat lamps?"

"Yeah," said Crosshair, but made no move to retrieve one.

Echo fixed the sniper with a quizzical look, then followed his gaze across the room.

Wrecker was standing uncertainly in the middle of the floor, still clutching the basket to his chest, helmeted head tilted downward so he could watch the baby. He didn't look up when Echo cleared his throat.

"Wrecker?" Hunter asked, finally clueing in to the fact that Wrecker was being oddly quiet.

"She's not moving," Wrecker said worriedly. "And her eyes are closed. I dunno –"

Tech hopped to his feet and hurried over. He peered into the basket and adjusted his goggles. "Ah. She is merely asleep, Wrecker."

"Oh." Wrecker lowered himself to his knees and set the basket on the rug as though he were handling a crate of highly sensitive explosives. "Okay. So do we just let her sleep?"

"I don't see why not," Hunter answered slowly. "Let's get this place heated."

The sniper took a heat lamp out of Tech's pack, since Tech was still studying the baby the way he studied plant specimens, and set it up on the floor. A warm, welcome glow filled the room, and Echo checked that the window shutters were fastened. No point in advertising to the droids that they were here, after all.

When he and Hunter had finished ensuring that the room was secure, Echo joined Wrecker, who had apparently decided to guard the baby. He certainly hadn't moved since putting down the basket.

Echo handed him a ration bar and settled down to eat his own. The warmth of the lamp made him relax, but he couldn't permit himself to become drowsy. . .

The baby squeaked.

Hunter and Crosshair straightened. Tech looked up. Wrecker and Echo leaned over to look into the basket and knocked their heads together.

"Ow," complained Echo, while Wrecker rubbed his own head with a grimace.

After a brief glare in each other's direction, they turned to the baby again, more carefully this time.

She blinked up at Echo for a long moment with damp blue eyes, then cooed and reached up with both arms.

Echo sat back on his heels. "Uh –"

"I think she wants to be picked up," said Hunter obviously, drawing closer.

"Yeah?" Echo made a wide gesture toward the basket. "Be my guest."

"We – uh." Hunter looked uncertainly between his teammates. "Wouldn't you have more experience with . . ."

Echo stared. "Why in space would I have more experience with holding babies?"

Tech peered over Hunter's shoulder. "The 501st did have a padawan."

Echo spent a full ten seconds gazing at him. Finally he burst out, "Ahsoka was fourteen when I met her! She was nowhere near being an infant!"

"Still," said Tech, as the baby whimpered again. "The fact remains that you have the most experience with children out of all of us."

"Tech," Echo said drily. "Ahsoka's older than I am. And I am older than you are. How exactly does Ahsoka count as –?"

"Well, chronologically speaking –"

The baby, apparently tiring of their discussion, burst into a squeaky, wavering cry.

Everyone froze.

The cries grew louder and higher-pitched over the next few seconds. Hunter winced, and Wrecker frowned. She kept crying.

"Well?" Crosshair glared at Echo. "Do something!"

"Why me?" Echo demanded. He couldn't hold the baby, not with his right forearm replaced by a piece of metal.

"Because she's upset," said Crosshair, his tone clearly insinuating that Echo was an idiot.

Echo hesitated, then prodded tentatively at the infant's hand.

Her tiny fingers clutched one of his own and brought it towards her mouth.

Echo withdrew his hand rapidly.

The baby squalled louder.

"You made her sad!" Wrecker accused.

Tech fidgeted with his datapad. "Well, Echo can hardly allow her to put his glove in her mouth. It is not sterilized."

Hunter reached for his pack. "Maybe she's cold . . ." He pulled out his thin thermal-regulating blanket, set it gingerly on top of her, and poked the edges down and around her sides and head until all that could be seen was the lower half of her face.

She cried louder and started twisting, fragile fingers clutching at her chubby cheeks.

"Hunter!" Echo gave him a disapproving look. "Now she can't see!"

Hunter's eyes widened, and he whipped off the blanket in alarm. The child quieted for a moment, then burst into tears.

Everyone stared at her for several seconds, and then the commandos turned together to Echo.

"Okay," said Hunter slowly. "What do we try now?"

"I don't know!" Echo rubbed the back of his neck, trying to remember the last time he'd seen a civilian child. "Maybe she's hungry?"

Wrecker brightened, unwrapped his second ration bar, and poked it at her mouth.

Tech slapped his hand away. "You cannot feed her that! She has no teeth!"

"Well, you'd better figure out something, Tech," said Echo grimly, watching with concern as her face turned redder and redder. "I don't think she's getting enough oxygen."

Tech quirked his mouth worriedly, drumming his fingers against one knee while everyone else watched and waited. Then – "Ah! I have it. She fell asleep when Wrecker carried her. Perhaps it will work again."

"Okay, I got it." Wrecker hoisted the basket into his arms again and stood up.

The baby continued to cry.

"Try walking around," Tech instructed.

Wrecker paced from one side of the room to the other, moving more like an automaton than a person. As he reached the edge of the room, he rotated stiffly and headed in the opposite direction.

Echo rolled his eyes and put a hand to his forehead.

"I wonder what her name is," Wrecker whispered loudly, over her continuing wails.

The others glanced at Crosshair, who looked guilty. "I . . . didn't think to ask."

"Hm." Hunter sank down onto one of the two chairs, rested his forearms on his knees, and gazed grimly at the floor for a long moment.

The baby kept right on crying. Wrecker, who was starting to look upset too, gave her a pleading stare. "Hey, stop crying, huh? Hunter, can't we give her an energy drink or something?"

Echo and Hunter exchanged looks.

"I don't see why not," Echo said slowly. "It's just a liquid."

Hunter hurriedly emptied one of the drink packets into a bottle of water and shook it vigorously. "Here, kid," he said, joining Wrecker. "Try this."

As the first drops of liquid touched her lips, she quieted and gulped loudly.

Wrecker and Hunter were just relaxing a bit when the baby coughed, sprayed the drink everywhere, and started crying again, even harder this time.

"I don't think she liked it," Hunter said, quickly shoving the offending water bottle back in his pack.

Echo didn't know what to try next. He cast a stern look at Tech and Crosshair, who were standing back against the wall. "Okay – it's your turn to come up with ideas."

"You have not tried picking her up yet," Tech pointed out.

"I can't," snapped Echo, gesturing to the link he had instead of a hand. "I'll hurt her, Tech. One of you will have to do it."

A series of uneasy glances followed.

Hunter took a half-step toward Wrecker, then hesitated; Wrecker continued to gaze at the baby in silence; Tech and Crosshair eyed each other uncomfortably.

Echo was getting increasingly irritated by the baby's continuing cries and the fact that his four teammates refused to move. "Will one of you just pick her up before the droids hear her? What's the matter with you, anyway?"

Hunter bit his lip, grimaced, reached carefully into the basket, and put a hand on either side of the baby's waist. Then he froze and looked up, wide-eyed. "Echo – she's going to break."

Echo was getting an actual physical headache from his squad and their sudden regression to uncertain teenagers. He marched over to Hunter. "She's not going to break, Hunter. Humans carry their babies around all the time. Will you just pick her up already?"

Hunter, apparently jolted into action by his tone, started to lift her.

"Not that way!" Tech appeared at his side. "Put one hand under her neck. Babies' necks are very weak and prone to –"

That did it. Hunter released the now screaming baby and backed away in alarm, hands raised. "You pick her up, Tech."

Tech glanced uncertainly in all directions. "I –"

Echo refrained from shouting at him, but only because it would have scared the baby. He was about to demand that Tech lift her or suffer his wrath when he remembered that Tech had been injured. Uh-oh. "Tech?" he said warily, not wanting to remind the commando and give him an excuse, but not wanting him to drop the baby inadvertently either. "How bad is your wrist hurt?"

"My wrist?" Tech looked surprised, then relieved. "Oh. Oh! I – well, I suppose that settles it. I cannot lift her either."

After a short pause, all eyes turned to Crosshair.

The sniper looked uncaringly back at them for what felt like an eternity. He was, Echo realized, surprisingly immune to Wrecker's begging expression, Tech's pleadingly wide eyes, Hunter's entreating gaze, and Echo's own beseeching stare.

Then the baby let out an exceptionally high wail, and Crosshair groaned and pushed himself away from the wall as though his teammates had all somehow wronged him. "Ugh . . . finnnnne."

Tech brightened promptly. "Here – be sure to put one hand under her neck."

"I heard you the first time," grumbled Crosshair and reached gingerly into the basket. The others watched, all but holding their breaths as he lifted and held her a few centimeters away from himself. She kept right on crying.

Crosshair shot Echo a look, as though to say 'now what?' and continued to stand stiff and motionless.

"Maybe . . ." Tech took a blanket out of the basket, wrapped it cautiously around her, then took Crosshair's wrists and pushed his hands back until the sniper was holding the baby against his chest. "There," Tech said. "She will be more comfortable if she feels secure."

"How do you suddenly know so much?" Hunter asked suspiciously.

Tech's eyes flitted down to his datapad, then back up. "It is common sense."

"Uh-huh."

The five of them stood around the heat lamp for a long moment, listening to the infant's continuing cries.

Finally, Wrecker set the basket on the ground and announced, "Well . . . she's still sad."

"Yeah." Echo shot the sniper a skeptical look. "Maybe if Crosshair stopped holding himself like walking corpse, she'd relax."

"The armor can't be comfortable for her to lean against," added Hunter.

"And she's probably still hungry," Wrecker joined in helpfully.

Crosshair's shoulders were practically around his ears by now. "If you all know what to do, why aren't any of you holding her?"

Hunter paused. "I should probably check the perimeter. Come on, Wrecker."

The two of them vanished down the stairs before anyone could argue.

"I will continue to monitor the droids," Tech said. "Echo, perhaps you could establish a link again?"

Echo sighed. "I'll establish a link, but first – what about your wrist?"

"It is a simple sprain," said Tech dismissively.

Crosshair shot him a glare. "And yet you couldn't manage to pick up an eight-pound baby?"

Tech fidgeted guiltily with his goggles. "I am not physically incapable of it, but . . ."

"Knock it off, both of you," Echo said, fed up with the continuing arguments. "Tech, lose the vambrace and let me take a look at your wrist. Crosshair, go sit down with the kid and get her to fall asleep."

Tech sat down where he was, looking mildly displeased, and unlatched his vambrace. Echo didn't hear a sound from Crosshair the entire time he and Tech worked to put a compression wrap around Tech's wrist – which was badly sprained, as he'd suspected. The baby continued to cry.

Echo tightened the compression wrap with one hand, thinking over the situation. Tech had obviously done some research on babies in the last five minutes, and therefore he really was best suited to take care of the little girl.

He finished with the bandage, sat back on his heels, and held out his hand. "Tech, give me the datapad. I'm headed back up to the top room to re-establish a link with the tactical droid, and I'll need that."

Tech hopped up, bracing his uninjured hand against the floor. "I am more than capable of helping."

"Yeah," said Echo. "And I can do this part of things by myself. So – you go help Crosshair with the baby."

Tech actually frowned at him, but Echo didn't care in the least. He swiped the datapad from Tech and marched up the stairs, leaving his two youngest squad mates in the second-story room.

He returned half an hour later, entered the room – which was much warmer than the rest of the tower – and paused in the doorway. Crosshair was seated in one of the chairs, leaning back against the wall with the baby held in both arms as he watched her face. Tech was sitting sideways in the chair next to him, arms wrapped around his knees as he focused intently on the baby. She had stopped crying and was, to all appearances, listening to his lecture on . . . thermonuclear physics?

Echo snorted. Then he looked from Tech's datapad to the scene before him. Cody would absolutely love this. Of course, if Tech and Crosshair ever found out, they'd probably dream up ten imaginative and unique ways to kill him . . . but Echo was relatively unconcerned by this. He'd already died once, after all – more or less. He was calmly occupied with capturing a holovid, unnoticed by either of them, oddly enough, when Hunter and Wrecker returned through the opposite doorway.

Instantly, the other two looked up.

Tech stopped midsentence to raise a warning hand. "Shh – she is getting tired."

"Oh, yeah?" Wrecker tiptoed over, but not without giving Tech an evil grin. "Your lectures would put anyone to sleep. We should have thought of that –"

"Quiet," snapped Crosshair. "You're going to make her cry again."

Hunter's gaze slid sideways to the door where Echo stood. A faint smile crossed his face, and he seated himself casually on the ground, as though unaware of Echo's presence.

Echo took this as permission to keep recording. It was a good thing he did, because he got to capture the brief, deadly glare Crosshair sent Wrecker when the bigger clone asked to hold her. The ARC trooper also caught Tech's defensive look when Hunter said something to the baby and her eyes opened halfway.

After this brief alarm, Tech gave up on thermonuclear physics and moved on to hyperdrive design. The baby sucked on two fingers and watched him wisely for a long minute before abruptly falling asleep.

It was late at night. Hunter had finally finagled the baby away from Wrecker. Once the sergeant had been given time to reassure himself that the infant was nowhere near as breakable as she appeared, he'd seemed eager to hold her; but Crosshair had held her for over an hour without giving in to either Hunter's or Wrecker's silent pleas.

Eventually, though, his arms had gotten numb; and rather than risk dropping her, he'd handed her over to Wrecker. Wrecker hadn't wanted to let her go – "She's so small and cuddly!" – but at last Hunter had put his foot down and insisted that they take one-hour shifts with her. For the past fifty-eight minutes, therefore, he'd been holding her while the others slept or dozed against the walls.

Echo had just told Hunter that they'd have to move out soon – the droids had received an order to perform one final search around the Marauder before returning to the base – and was double-checking the map in preparation.

Tech drummed at one knee, a faraway look in his eyes, though his gaze shifted every so often to Hunter and the baby.

Echo tilted his head curiously. Surely Tech wasn't about to –

Tech got up and moved quietly over to Hunter. "It has been one hour," he said.

Echo eyed his chronometer in some surprise. It had been fifty-nine minutes, and Tech was never inaccurate about time.

Hunter looked up, startled. "I thought your arm . . ."

"I have solved that," said Tech. "I shall merely use this blanket as a sling and support her weight with my uninjured arm."

Hunter nodded. "You can carry her on our way to the evac point while the rest of us cover you. Get the others up."

Tech hurried to Wrecker, nudged him in the leg with one foot, and jumped out of range of his retaliatory swipe. Then he approached Crosshair and poked him in the ribs, announcing, "We are moving out."

The commandos grabbed their gear and prepared quickly, strapping on packs and guns, putting on helmets, and checking that their weapons were loaded. Tech had pulled out his own thermal-regulating blanket and was fastening it around his shoulder and chest, almost like a sling for a broken arm.

Wrecker checked it for strength by giving it a tug that nearly sent Tech to the ground.

"Yeah, it should hold her," Wrecker announced while Tech straightened in irritation.

"Okay." Hunter very carefully transferred the baby to Tech's sling. "Listen to me, Tech. You get to the evac point while the rest of us deal with the droids. Do not stop, understand?"

Tech replied with a sharp nod.

"Okay. Echo?"

"We've still got time," Echo said. "The tactical droid's waiting for the rest of the droids to show up at the base. He thinks the information was a waste of time – he hasn't given the order to destroy the town yet, though."

"Did he transfer the data to the Separatist general, though?"

"Yeah."

"Then as far as the Separatists are concerned, the mission's over," said Hunter thoughtfully. "Okay . . . We'll make sure these droids don't bother the civilians anymore. Crosshair, you and Wrecker and I will get to the Marauder. A few passes over their base should handle the rest of them. Echo, you and Tech get to the evac point and wait for us."

"Understood," said Echo, not looking up from where he was wrapping yet another blanket around the sleeping baby.

The evacuation point was quiet, despite the large number of civilians camped there. The Republic shuttles had landed all around them, waiting to carry them to the safety of the cruisers once the Bad Batch gave the word it was necessary.

Hopefully, if Hunter's plan worked, they'd never have to give the word. Echo and Tech trudged through the snow towards the clones and civilians that stood on guard between the shuttles. They'd gotten past the patrols with very little effort – Echo had only had to shoot down one patrol, and it hadn't been in the least troublesome for him – well, until Tech gave him a sharp glare for firing his pistol and scaring the baby, but Echo didn't know what Tech wanted him to do about that.

There were multiple explosions from back beyond the town, and then the rushing sound of an approaching engine. Echo and Tech glanced up as the Havoc Marauder overtook them and settled gently to the ground just outside the encampment. Hunter must be piloting, Echo noted automatically.

The rest of their team was waiting when Tech and Echo reached them, and Crosshair turned wordlessly to lead the way to the baby's mother.

The Republic medical tent was set up in the exact center of the clearing, and a clone medic hurried to meet them, the markings on his helmet all but invisible in the darkness. "You guys got back," he said.

"Obviously," said Echo. "Hey, Sunny."

Sunny nodded to him distractedly. "I've got a worried mother in there who hasn't stopped asking about her kid," he said, his face falling a bit as he glanced at the ground near their feet. "I guess you didn't find . . ."

Tech cleared his throat and stepped forward. "We did find her," he said, gesturing to the sleeping baby. "Please do not wake her. It took a good deal of effort for us to get her to fall asleep."

Sunny took the baby automatically – easily, even – and didn't seem to notice when the other five clones shot him mildly resentful looks. "Come on in, but keep it quiet," he ordered. "Her mother will want to thank you."

"Uh . . . Yeah," said Hunter, sounding abruptly uneasy. "We're just, ah, gonna head out. Tell her . . ."

Sunny scoffed. "You tell her."

"Bye, kid," Echo said, leaning forward to brush a finger along her cheek. "Hunter, I've got to send someone a message. I'll wait for you at the Marauder."

He walked off without a backward glance, smirking to himself at the embarrassed concern he could practically feel from his squad mates, and thought that dealing with a grateful civilian would be good for them. He mounted the Marauder's ramp and entered the cockpit, then sat down and plugged Tech's datapad into the main drive. It was the work of seconds to download the short holovid he'd gotten and attach it to a message for Marshal Commander Cody.

Holding back a grin, he sent it. Cody was in the same sector, so he was probably off-duty right now. . .

Echo leaned back in the co-pilot's seat and shut his eyes, waiting. Several peaceful minutes passed before he heard the telltale stomp of Wrecker's boots on the boarding ramp, followed by Crosshair's nearly soundless stride, Tech's oddly tripping gait, and the four steps Hunter took to run up the ramp.

"Took you a while," Echo drawled, not opening his eyes. "Bet the mother wouldn't let you leave, huh?"

Before anyone could reply, beyond an indignant silence, Tech's datapad beeped.

Uh-oh. Echo sat up fast, but Tech had already snatched it and opened the message.

Echo assessed the situation rapidly and realized that there just wasn't a way out of this one. Might as well make the most out of their reactions . . . He leaned back again and swiveled his chair so he could watch them.

"It is from Commander Cody," said Tech. He paused, and his eyes widened.

"What is it?" Hunter asked in concern.

"He – Echo! What did you send him?"

Without waiting for an answer, Tech accessed the file history and pulled up the video.

The four commandos crowded around, staring down at Tech's datapad with varying expressions of dismay and embarrassment. Well . . . Tech and Crosshair did, at any rate. Hunter looked mildly pleased, once Echo stopped to think about it; and Wrecker looked confused, but then guffawed and pointed to Crosshair. "That's the best holovid ever!"

Crosshair glowered at Echo. "That is – why would you send it to Cody?"

"Because," said Echo unrepentantly. "He mentioned, off-handedly, that he'd not been able to see you in some time."

"Yeah, he said something like that to me, too," Hunter observed, not seeming to care that Tech and Crosshair were still looking scandalized over Echo's action. "Well, Commander Monnk gave us clearance to leave. Let's head out."

Tech sat down in the pilot's seat with a huff and set to work adjusting levers and clicking buttons. He shot Echo a mild glare.

Echo studiously helped him prepare for take-off. "I don't know what you're so upset about," he said. "You guys afraid your reputation'll be ruined or something?"

He didn't miss Hunter's smirk, or the way Wrecker suddenly looked alarmed. "Wait, yeah," Wrecker said slowly.

Echo activated the engines and spoke over them. "You're worried that the fearsome commandos of Bad Batch won't be as fearsome if word gets around they took care of a little kid?"

Crosshair put a toothpick into his mouth and bit down on it with vengeance. "Stow it, Reg."

Echo cast him a sideways grin. "Sure thing. You have to admit, though – that baby was cute."

Tech glanced at him. "Cute means 'attractive in an endearing way'."

"Right," said Echo.

The stubborn silence lasted all the way out of atmosphere.

"Fine," said Wrecker at last. "She was cute!"

"I suppose," said Tech.

"But we don't have to admit anything," added Crosshair.

"No," said Echo. "But you were thinking it all the same. Still do, actually."

Crosshair flicked his toothpick at the back of Echo's head, which was confirmation enough.

Hunter smiled and picked up Tech's datapad.

"What did the commander say, anyway?" Echo asked casually.

Tech's eyes widened, and he took his hands off the steering yoke to reach for the datapad, but Hunter avoided both him and Crosshair with the ease of lifelong practice.

He opened the message. "He says, 'Thanks for the holovid, Echo – I enjoyed it a lot. So did Rex. He says to tell you, 'there's hope for them yet'."

Echo laughed, then coughed as he felt three glares on the back of his head.

Hunter cleared his throat and continued. " 'Hope you and the lads are doing well, and that they haven't driven you up a wall yet. Hunter, I –' " Hunter paused and raised an eyebrow, then finished, " '– I know you're reading this, so I might as well tell you now: I've got another mission for you. You're headed for the Negotiator as soon as Monnk dismisses you.' "

"Another mission?" said Wrecker. "Good!"

Echo snorted. "Commander Cody sent mission orders through a personal comm?"

"Why shouldn't he?" asked Crosshair. "You sent a mission recording through a personal comm."

Echo paused, thinking back to the reg manuals, then gave a careless shrug. "Yeah, I did, didn't I . . ."