After he'd landed the Marauder, right where he'd taken off from in the first place, Echo sat in the pilot's chair, his hand and scomp link resting in his lap as he stared out at the pouring rain. The trace he'd set on Nu'osa's transmission had given him a location for the source . . . which was good, he supposed.

At least, it was a start. But it was also infuriating that Nu'osa had apparently expected him to either do that, or find some other way to locate him. And now, the warlord was just sitting there, waiting for Echo to show up and turn himself in.

Clearly, Nu'osa was counting on the fact that Echo would want to save his squad mates.

And Echo did. He had every intention of showing up, and of rescuing his squad mates from the warlord. But he was not going to surrender. He couldn't.

In fact, he couldn't make himself even start to seriously consider going back to the Techno Union. When he tried, it was as if some part of his mind shut down, or was removed. He snorted a little, wondering what would happen if he could access his thoughts like files.

"Yeah," he said, automatically lifting a hand to one side of his head. "I can just see it now. . ."

He could, too, almost as if he were reading it off a computer – him trying to follow a train of thought and hitting a blank screen with access denied on it.

Well, it didn't matter. He didn't need to think too hard about what going back to the Techno Union would be like. He already knew.

Staring down at the floor, the ARC trooper let out his breath. He didn't love danger, but he knew he was no coward. He would gladly risk – had gladly risked – his life for his fellow troopers, and for the Republic. He would risk interrogation. But this . . .

Echo stood up, still gazing unseeingly into the rain. No matter what, he couldn't be brought back to Wat Tambor and turned against the GAR, not again. He knew it, the others knew it. In fact, Hunter, who rarely gave Echo actual commands, had downright ordered him not to surrender.

Even that, of course, wouldn't have kept Echo from surrendering, if surrender was an option. Echo was technically still a corporal, but as an ARC he had seniority in the field as far as expertise was concerned. And as far as Echo himself was concerned, the four upstart commandos he now called his teammates were a lot more valuable to the Republic and the war effort than he was. . .

And they were younger than Echo. Practically rookies, in their own way. On top of that, Echo knew how to handle being a prisoner of war. Hunter and Crosshair and Wrecker and Tech did not.

Oh, sure, they'd been trained for it, just like all commandos were, but the real thing wasn't the same as training. He didn't even know if they'd been captives before. Probably they had, come to think of it. But still . . .

Either way, Echo knew he couldn't surrender this time, not even to free his teammates.

Turning, the ARC trooper paced across the cockpit and then back. Regulations stated that the authority was to be notified in case of a hostage crisis.

Well, this time, there was no authority. Not unless he called in the nearest fleet, in which case he'd have to wait for six hours for help to arrive. And, the instant a cruiser showed up, Nu'osa would no doubt execute his captives, or at least leave the planet with them on board and then kill them.

No, Echo couldn't wait for help. He needed to get his squad out, which meant he needed intel and a plan – a plan that he could realistically carry out on his own. . . which meant he needed to know what he was facing, what kind of ship, how many enemies. . .

Echo gazed at the empty wall for a long moment, mind spinning as he considered possibilities. Frontal assault? Absolutely not. Using the ship to attack the other ship? No, too dangerous to his teammates . . . But what about both things at once? It was possible, maybe. First, though, he'd have to get some more information.

The ARC trooper marched to the consol and plugged in his scomp link. He and Jesse and Fives had done something stupid once – okay, many times, but this time in particular – and tried to remotely fly a droid starfighter.

Back then, they'd failed, destroying half a crate of ration bars and Rex's peaceful morning in the process.

Of course, back then, Echo hadn't had his scomp link and implants and all the abilities that came with being able to talk directly to a computer.

Echo smirked bitterly to himself. If this plan worked, he hoped that Wat Tambor would find out about it, and learn who was responsible for it.

"Yeah," he said, only half his attention on the ship as he took it into the air for the second time and headed south. "I dunno, Tambor. . . I could be wrong, but I think you picked the wrong ARC trooper for your experiments."

Once the Marauder was on course, Echo checked the instruments and set the ship's altitude so that it would stay lower than the surrounding hills and cliffs. Then, after programming it to alert him if the sensors picked up any obstacles, he switched the ship to autopilot and slowed it as much as he could.

There was no need to announce his presence to Nu'osa, after all. Not yet.

With a few minutes to spare, Echo walked around the cargo hold. Regulations listed what ARC troopers had to take with them into the field Two spare powerpacks for his pistol, a knife – not that he really used one anymore, as his scomp link worked very nicely for drilling into droid's heads – a medkit, his canteen, a couple of ration bars. . .

Then, having complied with regulations, Echo opened containers and boxes as he worked to collect anything else he might possibly need, and then some. Dropping his pack on the floor, he loaded it with pistols for the others, as well as another knife and a second medkit and canteen.

Then he tossed in a few extra painkillers because Hunter, at least, would definitely be needing them. After a moment of thought, he added a spare datapad, in case Tech's original one had been broken; the squad might need a datapad during the escape to slow the enemy down. . . and then he added another power pack for Crosshair's rifle, on the off-chance that they were able to grab the squad's weapons on their way out. . . and ration bars, because Wrecker would be starving and it was best to have something on hand in case the squad couldn't head straight back to the ship after they escaped . . .

It was probably a bit overkill, really, but Echo didn't care. While it might be impractical for most troopers to carry excess weight, it didn't matter for him. It was another advantage the Techno Union had accidentally given him – a durasteel spine and legs, which gave him the ability to carry more and move faster than all but the best troopers.

Echo had a very clear memory of waking up and realizing that his legs had been replaced by metal. It hadn't seemed real, not even when he saw the Skakoan doctor standing over him. Even now, the memory itself didn't feel real, and he had to make himself shake free of it.

Only then did he realize that the pack was full to overflowing. When he'd double-checked to be sure he couldn't fit anything else, Echo forced the top closed and slung it onto his shoulders.

"Heh," he said, marching towards the cockpit and ignoring the vague image of Wat Tambor's face. "You didn't know it at the time, but you stupid slugs gave me all kinds of advantages, didn't you? Thanks."

By now, the ship was only a minute from its destination, and Echo stood at the door and waited, ensuring his mind was fully in the present. He needed all his focus for this job, because there was no one to back him up, and because the stakes were so high.

He checked his chronometer. It had only been ten minutes since Nu'osa's ultimatum. Fifty minutes left – if the tailhead kept his word – until things got worse for his squad mates.

But Echo knew better than to rush into things, and he knew it would take some serious recon to pull this thing off. Heck, it would take a solid half hour just to walk to the transmission's source point from where he was going to land the shuttle, if he even decided to move in right away.

He didn't like hearing the countdown in the back of his head, but it was better for his squad to be injured than killed.

"Right," he said, putting on his helmet as the ship settled down behind a long, sloping hill. "You guys just hang in there, and I'll get to you as soon as I can."

He and the others had already destroyed almost two hundred droids. Surely Nu'osa couldn't have that many left.

"It's only one ship, right?" he muttered, trying to keep his spirits up as he trudged through the rain and the gritty, water-packed sand. "I can deal with one ship."

Hunter sat against the cool metal wall, forearms resting on his knees as he stared out through the durasteel bars of the cell door. A slow headache burned behind his eyes, but compared to Tech and Wrecker, he wasn't so badly off.

Tech, who was sitting on his left, sniffed and wiped his still-bleeding nose on the back of one sleeve. His nose wasn't broken, but that wasn't for lack of effort on the droids' part. Wrecker had tried to break through the durasteel bars, been shocked for his efforts, and was now lying flat on the ground, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to rest.

Tech sniffed again, gave the blood on his glove a displeased look, and took off his cracked goggles.

Abruptly, Crosshair stopped wandering the perimeter and came to a standstill, his back against the wall to Hunter's right. Letting out a bored huff, he slithered down to sit on the floor and said, "I hate being a hostage."

With a grunt of agreement, Hunter shoved his bandana back on his head. He'd been thinking about it, too, ever since that comm call from Nu'osa to Echo. "Dunno how we let ourselves walk into that," he said.

Tech sniffed again. "The plad was fide," he said, then rolled his eyes in exasperation before adding, "We did nod expecd the ambush."

"Didn't expect it," said Crosshair, folding his arms. "Didn't see it. I saw fifty droids and figured that was the tactical droid's guard."

"What tactical droid?" Hunter asked grouchily.

Tech looked confused and sniffed again. "There was none," he managed.

"Hm," said Crosshair. "My point exactly."

"Yeah." Resting his head on his forearms, Hunter added, "And there were at least four times the number of droids we expected, not counting the commando droids. . ."

Tech hummed in irritation.

As Crosshair got up to resume walking around the large room, Hunter thought again about the holocall with Echo, and what the others told him had happened after Hunter was knocked unconscious. Nu'osa had threatened Echo, and the ARC wasn't one to take threats – to himself or to his teammates – lying down.

But now, if Echo attempted a rescue, despite Hunter's warning. . . Well. Even from here, Hunter could sense a good twenty-five droids, some of them with a sharper sense to them – which usually meant they were commandos or super battle droids.

Looking up, he stared at the bars again. "We have to find a way out of here."

"We cannot," said Tech, pragmatic as always. "Even Wrecker cannot, and his brute strength was the one thing that could have gotten us out of this particular cell."

"Thanks," grumbled Wrecker.

Tech ignored him. "The rest of us have nothing to work with at the moment."

Hunter knew he was right, but he didn't like it. He huffed again, pulling his bandana back into place. "If we don't find a way out, Echo's going to get himself killed."

"Ha, no way!" Wrecker suddenly sat upright and opened his eyes. "He's not gonna get himself killed. He's not stupid."

Crosshair gave him a long, tired look, as if Wrecker had just said something unbearably false. "Yes, he is," he said at last. "Don't tell me you think he's going to listen to Hunter's order."

"Sure he is," said Wrecker comfortably, and Hunter relaxed a little – until Wrecker added, "Because all Hunter said was for him not to surrender. He didn't say for him not to track us down, did he?"

Everyone took a moment to consider that, and then Hunter groaned and put his head back on his knees.

"Like I said," Crosshair said. "He can be completely stupid."

"Actually," said Tech, and then paused to sniff mightily, so as to continue speaking in a semi-normal tone. "He is very intelligent, even apart from his artificial and enhanced processors. It is unlikely that he will attempt a headlong rush, or try taking down all the droids in a shootout . . . unlike some people I could name."

"Aww," groaned Wrecker. "You're just jealous because I can smash more droids than you."

Tech scoffed. "I am not interested in counting droids."

"Well," said Hunter, still not very encouraged at the thought of Echo taking on an entire encampment on his own. "He did beat the kill count last time. . ."

"Oh, yeah, he did!" Wrecker grinned, then relaxed back onto the floor. "Ow."

"Fine," admitted Crosshair, coming to a standstill. "Maybe the reg's not going to get himself killed. At least, not right away."

"Not at all, I hope." Hunter shook his head and immediately regretted it. He felt Tech looking at him for a moment before the younger trooper said, "Echo is more than capable of piloting the Havoc Marauder."

"Right," said Hunter, rubbing his forehead. "I'll . . . keep alert, see if he comes this way with it."

Everyone fell silent, to let him listen more easily, and Hunter closed his eyes and focused. The seconds ticked slowly away, but it had only been a few minutes when he sat upright, tilting his head towards a familiar hum in the atmosphere. When it grew closer, he put a hand on the metal floor and waited. Something heavy hit the ground in the distance, sending faint tremors into his fingertips.

He checked to make sure there were no droids or cameras close to the cell, then said, "A shuttle just landed. It's a quarter mile away, north of us."

"So . . ." Wrecker sat up again, looking cheerful again. "That means all we have to do is wait for him to bust us outta here!"

Crosshair and Tech exchanged quick looks, and Hunter narrowed his eyes. "What is it?" he asked.

"Ah," said Tech. "Merely the fact that we have approximately half an hour before Nu'osa carries out his threat to Echo and makes the situation – as he put it – 'worse'."

". . . For – Echo?" Hunter asked blankly.

Crosshair rolled his eyes. "For the rest of us."

". . . Oh, yeah," Wrecker said, his enthusiasm fading. "Think we forgot to tell you that part. Every hour Echo doesn't show up, we get beat up or something."

"Is that so." Hunter got stiffly to his feet, any hope that Echo would stay safely with the Havoc Marauder fading into nothing. "Well, we've got half an hour at least, right?"

"Approximately," said Tech again.

"Good," said Hunter. "Let's scope this place out a bit."

Crosshair eyed the empty metal room they were in, then shot a questioning look at Hunter.

The sergeant shrugged, smirking a little. "Plan out our positions for an attack," he said. "That kind of thing. We don't need weapons to destroy droids, do we?"

Twenty minutes after landing the Marauder, Echo had finally made his way to the top of the long, shallow hill that kept his shuttle from the enemy's view. He was soaked through, cold, and not at all in a good mood.

As he lay on top of the hill, electrobinoculars pressed against his visor, he cursed under his breath. It was not one ship that he had to deal with. It was an entire fortress, complete with spider droids, which were positioned atop either corner of the front wall. The enemy shuttle had landed in the middle of the enclosure, and patrols of B-1s were walking around all the walls, inside, outside, and on top.

"Karkin' Twi'lek warlord," Echo growled, as he continued to note the patrols. "Kriffing Seps and their kriffing transportable fortresses –"

There was no way he was getting into that without being seen, even with all this rain. And there was no way he was getting even close to it before his first hour was up.