Echo guided the Havoc Marauder down through the planet's atmosphere to the grasslands below. It had been quiet for almost half an hour now, since his teammates had finally – and blessedly – fallen asleep.

Hopefully, they would stay that way for a good while. Echo fully intended to take advantage of the silence and peace. He wanted to take a walk by himself, away from the ship, with nothing but the sounds and sights of nature to keep him company. When a slight feeling of trepidation hit him at the very idea, and he huffed in annoyance. The commandos had managed to survive just fine before he joined Bad Batch. There was absolutely no reason for him to feel like it was – dangerous – to leave them to themselves for an hour or so. They weren't trigger-happy cadets, after all.

Not that you could tell that by looking at them.

Grumbling under his breath, Echo landed the Marauder at the base of a long, slowly-rising hill. He unbuckled, then grabbed his pistol and checked the charge before holstering it.

When the boarding ramp was lowered, Echo stood at the top, gazing at the rolling grasslands that stretched out as far as he could see. A cool breeze swished through the damp, tall grass, and he could hear rain in the distance. It was peaceful. Echo clipped his helmet to his belt, because regulations demanded that troopers keep their helmets with them when in an unfamiliar area, but he knew he wouldn't need to wear it. This whole planet was probably safer than the GAR base the Batch had gone to recently – though, granted, the base had been safe enough before the Batch showed up.

Echo wrote a note on Hunter's datapad to inform his squad mates that he was taking a walk, and warned them not to bother him unless someone was dying. Flipping the screen on, he set the datapad on the galley table and headed out. He made it exactly two steps of the ramp before pausing. Better check on them first, he thought, unwillingly.

He tried to ignore the thought for a few seconds. Then he sighed loudly. Then he rolled his eyes. Then he turned and made his way back to the bunkroom door, where he paused to glance inside.

For some reason, Wrecker was sleeping on a blanket on the floor. Still, he looked comfortable enough, so Echo ignored him.

Hunter was invisible beneath a horrifying number of blankets, and Echo paused next to him to move the blankets away from his face and verify that he was still breathing.

Crosshair was in one of the upper bunks, lying flat on his back with his arms at his sides like he was a corpse. How anybody could sleep that way was beyond Echo, but at least he was asleep. For now.

Tech had fallen asleep in the other upper bunk, both arms hanging over the low rail with his datapad dangling from one hand. Echo rescued it, climbed on the lower bunk to poke Tech's arms back onto the mattress, and then left the room as quietly as he could.

With the ship secured from all quarters, Echo went to the galley and brewed himself a fresh cup of caf. Balancing it carefully in his hand, he exited the ship, closing the boarding ramp behind him. Taking a deep breath of the cool air, he let it out in a long sigh and took a sip of steaming caf. Peace at last.

One and a half hours later, Echo checked his position. He had been wandering around in various directions, so if he walked quickly, it would only take him about fifteen minutes to get back to the Marauder.

He decided against walking quickly, and instead ambled back. The rain was still holding off, and even though it was mildly humid, the temperature was perfect. It was a bit on the warm side, with a refreshingly cool breeze blowing across the hills every so often.

Echo had spent the last while listening to nothing but the grass blowing in the wind, the cheeping of the tiny frogs that liked to cling to the creeping ivy leaves, and his own footsteps in the slightly marshy ground.

Therefore, it was a rude shock when his comm beeped loudly and he heard Wrecker yell, "He's not answering!"

Echo blinked and tried to return the call, but for some reason, Wrecker hadn't released the 'send' button. He must be using the ship comm, too, because the next thing Echo heard was Crosshair, words slurring a little as he spoke.

"Maybe he got lost. Just like a reg."

"We need to find him," Hunter said blearily. "Spread out and search the Marauder, he can't be far."

"You are correct," Tech said. "I will search the galley."

Echo stopped walking in favor of staring helplessly at his comm. There was literally nowhere in the galley that a person could remain hidden. . . well, unless that person tried to crawl into the lowest storage shelf, but even then . . . Still, if Tech searched the galley, he would probably find the note Echo had left for his teammates – though the question was, why hadn't they already seen it?

Cheep. A tiny frog hopped from the ivy to cling to Echo's kama. Cheep.

Echo picked it up between two fingers and stared it thoughtfully in the face as he considered. The galley table was where the commandos always left notes, if they left the ship while the others were asleep or gone. If they hadn't thought to look there . . .

"Something's not right," Echo told the frog. He set it back on the ivy leaf and headed off, picking up his pace a little.

Wrecker had clearly left the ship comm on 'transmit', because no matter what Echo tried, he wasn't able to comm the Marauder. Also, none of the commandos were wearing their wrist comms or helmets – that, or they were ignoring them – because Echo switched through all their channels and called them repeatedly, without any success.

He gave up after about three minutes and just walked briskly, listening to the absolute nonsense going on in the Marauder as his teammates searched for him.

"He probably wandered off and fell in a ditch." Yep, that was Crosshair.

"We must look harder! What if he got stuck in the fuel intake valve?" That was Tech, and Echo hurt himself rolling his eyes at that one. The fuel intake valve was about twelve centimeters across. Echo was thin, but he was nowhere near that thin.

"Guys, just check everywhere." That was Wrecker. "Maybe he's in the engine room or fixing something?"

"I can't . . . sense him anywhere." And that was Hunter, who sounded about as alert as a Gungan tree-sloth. "I don't think he's on the ship."

"If he's not on the ship," Crosshair said slowly, "that means he probably fell in a ditch."

Echo was sure of two things at this point. One, the pain meds had clearly not worn off yet, except maybe for Wrecker. Two, Crosshair had some reason for thinking Echo fell into ditches when he walked. Maybe it was that mission last week where he fell into a trench while running? Yeah, that was probably it. Forget the fact that there wasn't a ditch around this place.

A couple minutes later, he heard Hunter sigh – the sergeant was probably in the cockpit again. Then Tech cleared his throat and asked, "Headache?"

"Yeah," Hunter mumbled.

"Hm. I also have a rather significant one."

"Same," muttered Crosshair, and he sounded like it.

"Yeah," Wrecker joined in. "I got one too."

A pause. A rustle. A click as a bottle was opened.

"Here," Tech said brightly. "Fortunately, Echo left his pain meds in the cockpit."

"No!" yelled Echo, and broke into a sprint. "No, no, no, no, no!"

But he already knew he was too late.

Echo remotely activated the boarding ramp as he neared the ship. It had just touched the ground when he was hurrying up it, breathing quickly from his run.

"Hunter, the boarding ramp was just lowered," Crosshair drawled absently, from the cockpit. "Someone's invading the ship."

"I am not invading," Echo snapped, and sent a quick glance around to ensure that his teammates weren't about to stun him.

"Echo?" Crosshair stood up. "I thought –"

"You thought I fell in a ditch. I know."

There was a pause, and then Crosshair called, "Hunter, Echo is reading my mind."

"I'm not –"

"Really?" Tech called from the galley. "Did he update himself?"

"I didn't – Tech, there isn't even an update for that!"

"There might be," Tech said. "I have not looked into it."

"Oh, there you are, Echo." Hunter wandered out of the galley, looking a little surprised to see him. "We were looking for you."

"I went for a walk!"

"A walk?" Hurrying out of the galley, Tech gave him a bright smile. "May I do the same?"

"Can – you . . . do the same . . . You mean, can you go for a walk?" Echo stared, then shook his head as Wrecker came out of the cargo hold. "Hang on, okay? First things first. Wrecker, why didn't you leave the comm channel open?"

"Comm channel . . ." Wrecker rubbed thoughtfully at his head.

"Yeah – your comms, why didn't you leave them open?"

"Comms? Uhh . . . what comms?"

"The comms," Tech said, rolling his eyes. "Obviously. Now, Echo, where precisely were you hiding? We searched the entire ship."

"Hiding?" Echo blinked. "I wasn't – what in space makes you think I'd be hiding?"

"That's what we did last time," Hunter told him seriously.

"You – hid? From what?"

"It was Quinlan's fault," Crosshair said, drifting out of the cockpit.

"Quinlan –?"

"Yeah!" Wrecker beamed, then took an unsteady step back into the wall. "We were playing Escape and Evade."

"You were playing – wait, who's Quinlan?"

"The Jedi who is as crazy as we are," Hunter said, then folded his arms almost contemplatively. "I dunno if you'd like him. He doesn't follow rules."

Echo felt his eyes widen even more, and he glanced around worriedly. "There's a Jedi here?"

Crosshair scoffed. "Not right now, there isn't. He hasn't shown up since before you joined us."

"But . . ." Echo felt like he was treading water, with a metal arm. "I wasn't hiding at all, I was taking a walk. So . . . what does a Jedi have to do with anything?"

"Escape and Evade," said Tech. "Oh – Echo, there is a frog on your arm."

Echo squeezed his eyes shut. Then he took the tiny frog off his vambrace, handed it to Tech, and said, "You thought I was playing a game? Why? Did you not see the note?"

The four commandos exchanged quick looks.

"Note?" Hunter asked carefully.

The flustered ARC trooper squeezed the bridge of his nose, then took a deep, slow breath. "The note I left for you on the table in the galley."

"Oh." Hunter went into the galley, wavering sideways into the door as he went. They heard him walk across the floor, then a sharp crack – thud. Sighing, Echo marched to the galley door and looked in to see that the sergeant had apparently not stopped walking when he reached the table. He was sprawled over it, one hand just closing on the datapad, which was exactly where Echo had left it.

Echo huffed. Then he went into the galley, got a cup of water, and put it into the heating unit before turning. Folding his arms, he eyed Hunter sharply. The sergeant was now sitting on the table, holding the datapad and gazing off into space.

"Well?" barked Echo.

The sergeant looked mildly perturbed at his tone. "Well what?"

"Read. The. Note."

"Oh." Hunter looked down. His gaze slid back and forth over the words, and then he repeated himself in a tone of understanding. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." Echo brewed the caf, shooting a look at his other teammates as they filtered into the room. "I left a note saying that I was going for a walk. We always leave notes on the galley table when one or the other of us is leaving. And yet none of you thought to look at the galley table, in your whole search for me?"

"I believe I looked under it," Tech offered.

Echo turned to get the sugar and put a heaping teaspoonful into his caf.

"Hey, Echo?" Wrecker asked. "Why're you so mad at us?"

"I'm not mad at –" Echo paused to think about it, then shook his head. "Actually, scratch that. I'm a bit mad because I specifically told you not to use my pain meds and somehow you all thought it was a good idea to use them anyway, and now you're drugged which means that I have to deal with you the rest of the day."

"Oh, is that all." Wrecker paused.

"We're not drugged," said Crosshair.

Echo snorted and drank some caf. "Then explain why you're all acting so weird."

"We're not acting weird," Hunter said, raising an eyebrow curiously.

Echo stared meaningfully at him.

"The frog is surprisingly small," Tech said into the silence.

"Well," Wrecker said cheerfully. "I guess you've already gotta deal with us every day, right? Nothing new there!"

Echo added more sugar to his caf and glanced around to see if they had any creamer.

"Bet I could hit that thing at forty meters," Crosshair said.

"No," Tech argued. "I want to study it."

"You are not using the frog as target practice," said Echo, splashing cream recklessly into his mug.

"Why not?" the sniper complained. "It's green and tiny, and it blends into the surrounding environment perfectly!"

"That," said Echo firmly, "is so that people like you can't come along and shoot it for no reason."

"Actually," said Tech. "That is unlikely. Frogs existed well before the invention of guns, so I suspect that they actually blend into their environment to escape predators."

Echo went into the bunkroom with his caf. Sitting on the weapons locker, he took a slow, careful sip and tried to refocus himself.

Damage control. . . he thought slowly. I only have to take care of damage control. I can do that.

A crash shook the Marauder and was followed by a yelp.

I can do damage control. . .

But first, caf.

"HUNTER! GIVE ME BACK MY FROG!"

Echo groaned, then tossed back half the mug in one gulp. Hunter was usually the least troublesome. Why, Hunter?

"Give it back!"

"It's not your frog," Hunter argued. "It's Echo's. Hey . . . Hey, Crosshair, look at its eyes."

"Awww, it's cute," Wrecker said. "Look, Tech, it's got big eyes!"

"I know," Tech said. "That is why I want to keep it. It looks friendly."

Echo shut his eyes and hoped he never heard Tech use that statement about any predator.

"I wanna keep it," Wrecker said, as though Tech hadn't even spoken. "Hunter, can we keep it?"

"I dunno . . . we don't have a place for it . . ." Hunter paused. "Wait, we could keep it in the cockpit in a container or something. Can frogs live in space?"

Echo shut his eyes and thought about his quiet walk. Quiet breeze, damp grass, cool air, tiny frogs . . . blast.

"We should keep it," Crosshair said, voice surprisingly light. "We can keep it in a dish and name it Target."

"You are not shooting the frog!" Hunter barked.

"Just a stun bolt."

"NO!"

Echo drained the caf, grounds and all, and stood up, determined. He would settle this fight, release the poor frog, and then lock everyone in the cargo hold for the next standard day, until he was sure it was safe to let them out. While he was waiting, he would comm Rex and complain at length. They hadn't had a good gripe session in a while, anyway.

But the instant he stepped into the galley, all four of his teammates turned to him, speaking at once.

"If we keep it in a dish –"

"Tech said frogs can't breathe in space –"

"Echo, Crosshair wants to name it Target –"

"But it's got cute eyes!" Wrecker finished.

"QUIET!" roared Echo.

They fell silent in surprise, for all of two seconds, and then the sergeant lifted the passively staring frog between two fingers and set it carefully on Echo's shoulder. "Look, Echo," Hunter said. "It likes you."

Echo glanced down at it, then sighed before looking back up at Hunter. "Listen, Hunter, we can't keep a –"

Hunter snatched the frog back with a surprisingly grim look, and Echo found himself in the unenviable position of being in a standoff with four deadly commandos.

"We want to keep the frog," Wrecker said.

Crosshair folded his arms, and Tech nodded sharply.

For the first time in his life, Echo did something Rex had done many times in the past. Staring up at the ceiling, he demanded, "Why me?"

His squad mates followed his gaze, then looked at him in open confusion.

"Echo," Tech said, and he had the nerve to sound thoughtfully concerned. "Who, precisely, are you speaking to?"

"The Force?" Echo tried. "The universe? Whatever higher power is out there?"

Again, the commandos looked up at the ceiling and then back at Echo.

"Uhhh . . ." Leaning closer, Wrecker whispered loudly. "Echo? Is the Force listening?"

"At this point? I seriously doubt it." Echo rubbed his head. "Guys . . ."

"Here," Wrecker said. "You look like you have a headache – want some of your pain meds?"

Echo glanced at the bottle Wrecker was holding. Damage control. Right.

Snatching it from Wrecker, he stared at the lid. He had a headache at this point, and the idea of taking a couple pills sounded tempting, but he'd just finished drinking caf. With a sigh, he held the bottle over his head. "You see this, troopers?" he snapped in his best ARC trooper voice.

Four pairs of eyes fixed unblinkingly on it, then on him as the commandos nodded.

"Good." Echo took a deep breath and roared, "FROM HERE ON OUT, KEEP YOUR GRUBBY HANDS OFF IT! UNDERSTAND?"

Tech adjusted his goggles. "I believe you have made yourself clear."

"Yeah," Hunter said. "No need to scream about it."

"Excuse you," said Echo grouchily. "I had every reason to yell about it. You guys didn't listen the first time."

Hunter thought about that. "Oh yeah," he said slowly. "I forgot about that."

"I wonder if frogs can get tattooed," Crosshair said.

Echo choked on his own breath. "Hunter, give me the frog, now."

Hunter took a wary step back, holding the frog in one hand and shielding it from Echo's view with the other.

"Hm," said Crosshair. "Bet we could give it a skull tattoo, Sarge."

"Hmm," said Tech. "That . . . would be difficult. I do not know if amphibians –"

"I thought frogs were reptiles," Wrecker interrupted.

"No," Crosshair mused to himself. "It's face is too small. Maybe a ninety-nine on its back?"

"I don't know," said Hunter thoughtfully. "It might not like that."

"Oh."

"Hunter, give me the frog," Echo said again, advancing on the sergeant. "We are not keeping it, or tattooing it, or using it for a target. We are letting it go."

"Echo," said Hunter, taking another step back. "It wants to stay on the Marauder."

"How do you know? Did it tell you that?" Echo demanded sarcastically, then froze, wondering if the sergeant was beginning to hallucinate. Force, he hoped not.

"Because it came in with you," Hunter replied, and held out his hand again. "See?"

Echo stared at the frog, and the frog stared wisely back. For a moment, Echo felt a brief kinship with the frog – they alone were the sane ones on this ship.

Cheep. The frog hopped forward. It took three hops to cross Hunter's palm and reach his fingers. Cheep. Cheep. Cheep.

"It's sending out a distress signal," Crosshair said.

The commandos gathered around their sergeant, staring at the frog as though waiting for it to speak. Echo held his breath, hoping none of them would think it had.

Cheep. Cheep. Cheep. Cheep.

Crosshair plucked the frog out of Hunter's hand and balanced it on the tip of his index finger, where it clung happily.

"Oh," said Tech, pushing his goggles up his nose. "It wanted to see."

"Maybe it wants to be outside," said Hunter.

Crosshair touched the top of the frog's head with one finger. "We can keep it on the viewport," he said, lifting an eyebrow. "Then it can see."

"No," said Echo. "Guys, listen to me. There are dozens – hundreds – of those frogs outside. This one probably wants to go back outside."

"Why?" Wrecker asked.

"Yeah . . . why?" Crosshair closed his hand around the frog, and Echo uncharitably hoped that the small amphibian had teeth.

"Because," he said patiently. "It won't be happy on the ship. It needs to eat bugs and stuff, not – ration bars, or whatever you were thinking of feeding it."

Tech sighed. "He raises a good point," he said, then brightened. "Though we could probably purchase food for it at the next spaceport. People commonly keep amphibians as pets, after all."

"And . . . it's cold in space," Echo tried. "I think frogs need the sun."

When Tech opened his mouth, probably ready with another alternate solution, Echo hurried on desperately. "And you guys are sick, what if you get the frog sick?"

He'd known it was a stupid question, but there was no reason for his squad mates to stare at him that pityingly.

"Okay, Cross," said Wrecker. "Can I hold it now?"

"You'll squash it," protested the sniper, but handed the frog over anyway. Tech and Hunter started discussing storage crates and whether frogs could safely be kept with grenades.

Rex used to say something . . . never to his men, but Echo and Fives had heard him saying it to himself often enough. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

With nothing left to try, Echo said, "You know what? Fine. Try feeding it ration bars, see if it likes 'em."

Of course, now that he had suggested it, Crosshair promptly said, "We should take it outside and see if it can find bugs to eat."

"Bet I can find more bugs than you!" Wrecker shouted.

Closing his eyes, Echo listened to his squad mates stampede unsteadily down the ramp. At least we're not on a mission, he thought, determinedly optimistic.

The afternoon passed. Echo called Rex. They talked for a bit, and Echo suffered the indignity of sitting in bruised silence while his former captain laughed himself sick over the situation with the frog.

Echo puttered around, tidying up the disaster of a cargo hold, finishing up some maintenance, tinkering with his prosthetics to finetune some connections, and occasionally glancing out the viewport to locate his squad mates.

Dinnertime came and went. Echo made himself a cup of soup and drank it while he ran some basic scans. It wasn't until nearly nineteen hundred hours that he heard his teammates returning, all but dragging their way up the ramp. Echo glanced at his wrist comm and realized that if his estimates were correct, the medicine should have worn off about now.

"Have a nice walk?" he called, as they entered the ship.

Hunter sneezed.

"Yeah, and I'm starved!" Wrecker hollered back, already headed for the galley.

"Yes," Tech said to Echo, entering the cockpit. "I believe we are still sick, but whatever strange delirium settled over us has vanished."

"Maybe you all had fevers," Echo muttered sarcastically, and shot the three commandos a suspicious look. "So. Where's the frog?"

"The frog?" Tech blinked. "Oh, you mean the one you wanted to keep. We let it go outside. A frog would not survive the depths of space, Echo."

He turned and went out, leaving Echo gaping after him.

"Sorry, Echo," Hunter said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Maybe we'll find you a different pet sometime."

It took Echo a moment to find his words. "Are you kidding me? What makes you think I wanted to keep the frog?"

A look of honest confusion crossed the sergeant's face, and he glanced at Crosshair, who shrugged in mild bewilderment.

"You brought the frog onboard," the sniper pointed out. "And then we argued about it, and then you sent us to find it some food."

"I – I –" Echo shook his head, mind catching up with him. Glancing up, he shrugged with an easy smile. "Yeah, guess you're right."

The two of them had the audacity to shoot each other relieved looks.

"Well." Hunter glanced around. "You need any help with this, Echo?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Echo replied quickly. "You guys better eat something and get some rest. No reason to waste the rest of shore leave being sick, right?"

"Eh, good point," Hunter allowed. "Just make sure you don't get sick."

"I won't. I caught whatever you guys have years ago."

"Yeah. . ." The sergeant started to follow Crosshair out, then paused and looked back. "Still, you're looking pretty stressed out, there, Echo. We're on shore leave. You should take it easy."

Echo swallowed the hysterical chuckle that rose in his throat and kept his face straight with an effort. "Sure, Sarge," he said. "I'll just finish up this scan and read a novel while on watch. You guys get some sleep."

"You sure? I can –"

"Hunter," Echo said. "Believe me, I'm sure."

That night, Rex commed again, and Echo updated him on the situation, then folded his arm and scomp-link huffily all over again while the captain laughed.

"What is so funny?" Echo snapped finally.

"It's what General Mundi calls 'karma'," Rex said, and refused to explain farther.

Later, when Echo was free to research, he looked up the meaning of the word and then shot a message off to Rex.

All due respect, sir . . . I was NOT that bad.

It was a little insulting, how fast Rex's reply came in. Even more insulting was the fact that Rex hadn't bothered to use words like a normal person. All the message said, when Echo opened it, was:

:D