Echo peered at the Havoc Marauder through the pouring rain, resting one arm on his knee as he tried to make out useful details. It looked like the immediate area surrounding the shuttle was free of droids, but he didn't want to count on appearances. For one thing, appearances couldn't always be trusted. For another, he couldn't see all that well to begin with, between the dark and the fact that his visor was streaked with this endless, cold, stupid rain.
Wrecker should be in position by now, but just in case he wasn't, Echo decided to give him another minute. Sitting back on his heels, he took the datapad out of his pack again. Once he'd plugged in his scomp link, he accessed the Marauder's systems and started scanning for nearby transmissions . . . and for the frequencies being used.
While the ship was working on that, Echo turned his head, stretching his neck a little to relieve the tension in his muscles from all the crawling and ducking he'd been doing. He moved too fast, though, and a stream of cold water from his helmet slid down the back of his neck into the already-drenched collar of his blacks.
"This place is worse than Kamino," mumbled Echo, hunching his shoulders against the urge to shiver. It hadn't been all that cold an hour ago, but it sure as Force was now. Or maybe he was still recovering from the stun rounds. Either way, it was cold, and his joints were feeling it.
He was distracted from his muttering when, in the back of his mind, he realized that the shuttle's scanners had latched onto the frequency the droids were using to converse with each other. Hastily, he plugged the correct code into the Marauder's transmitter. Then, after performing a visual check for any possible unexpected surprises in his immediate vicinity, he focused on composing a message for the shuttle to broadcast.
By the time he finished, Echo figured it was safe to assume that Wrecker had gotten into position without being detected, given that he had heard no shooting or yelling. He pulled up the screen that showed him the remaining droids' positions, then sent the message.
The little red dots on the screen didn't move for almost twenty seconds, and at first Echo thought his plan had failed. But then, all at the same time, they began to shift towards the left of the screen, away from the Marauder, except for two who stood at the base of the boarding ramp.
Those two dots vanished within seconds, due to Wrecker and his efficient methods of dismantling unsuspecting droids. Smirking to himself, Echo watched as all the rest of the dots marched together in an orderly fashion, right off the edge of the screen. They had been ordered, by a tactical droid of course, to search for the missing clones in a canyon situated six kilometers to the east.
"Well," he said, getting up. "That'll buy us a little time, anyway."
He took a moment to brush the gritty sand from his prosthetics – and from his kama, because the sand plus already being sopping wet was making him feel about eighty kilos heavier than normal. Then he hurried, slipping and skidding, down the long, sloping dune to the Marauder.
"Did it work?" Wrecker whispered loudly, appearing around the front of the ship. He was holding a commando droid's arm in one hand and a sparking head in the other.
"For now, yeah," Echo answered. "But Nu'osa will figure it out fast, and probably call them back."
"Yeah?" Wrecker tossed the droid parts carelessly over his head. "Well, then, let's grab our weapons now, so we can handle 'em when they come back."
"Actually," said Echo. "We're going to ignore them."
"Aw. . ."
"Dealing with them will just waste time," Echo explained, hurrying up the boarding ramp and into the cargo hold. "Come on, grab your stuff and let's get out of here."
"Wait, you're not going to fly the ship?" Wrecker asked, grabbing a pack.
"I am, just not from in the ship."
"Whoa. . ." Wrecker's eyes widened. "You can do that?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, man!" With an impressed look still on his face, Wrecker went over to a large crate. He grabbed a handful of explosives and shoved them into his pack, and Echo went off to the cockpit to check that the Marauder's systems were ready to go. He didn't need to check, he already knew they were ready; but uselessly checking something was a lot less nerve-wracking than watching Wrecker pack explosives.
By the time he got back to the ramp, Wrecker was waiting for him outside, seemingly unbothered by the pouring rain despite his current lack of armor. He'd tossed a massive poncho over his shoulders, but water was already running from the pointed ends and onto the ground, the rain visible as little splashes in the faint light from Echo's datapad.
The ARC trooper closed the boarding ramp and pointed in the direction of the fortress. "Okay, Wrecker," he said. "Once we get there, you know what to do."
Wrecker gave him a double thumbs-up.
"Right," said Echo. "Let's move, then."
Wrecker fell in behind him, and, for what felt like the fiftieth time that day, Echo set off on another long walk through the drenched sand.
Nu'osa's headquarters were quiet, except for the sound of the droids on guard outside the door. They had been clanking back and forth, regular as a chrono, ever since they'd brought Hunter into the room. Tech sat against the wall, frowning at the floor because he assumed that frowning at Nu'osa would merely cause trouble. Or, more specifically, cause more trouble.
Across from Tech sat Crosshair, who had his cuffed hands draped over one knee as he glared at the wall. He appeared to be attempting to melt a hole in the durasteel.
Hunter was standing near Nu'osa, held immobile by the two commando droids who had taken up position on either side of him and were holding him by his arms. The sergeant was not cuffed, but that hardly mattered. There wasn't much he could do while held by the tall metal droids, unless at least one of the droids were to release him.
As for Nu'osa himself, the Twi'lek was currently occupied in staring Hunter down, yet again. It was unfortunate, but Nu'osa really seemed to think that at least one of the Bad Batch would have an idea about when and where and how Echo would make his next rescue attempt.
Tech shifted. He hadn't said a word since Hunter had been dragged into the control room, some fifteen minutes ago. He'd certainly thought about it, but Nu'osa had discouraged him by having his droids land a few good blows on the sergeant. Tech supposed he should be grateful that the Twi'lek had desisted from employing stun batons on Hunter.
Naturally, Hunter's response to the beating was to straighten up and demand to know what Nu'osa's problem was, as if he didn't know. The warlord explained that Crosshair and Tech refused to comply, and that perhaps they would keep quiet if Hunter took the fall instead.
Hunter, for his part, only shot his squad mates mildly approving looks and then proceeded to ignore Nu'osa.
Despite that, Tech had no intention of speaking until it was necessary. The Twi'lek warlord was angry about his missing prisoner, and quite possibly afraid of Echo – as he should be – and as a result, he was taking his bad mood out on his prisoners, which at the moment meant Hunter.
Still, the sergeant seemed more bored than anything else. Tech was sure he was putting on a bit of a tough act, because he was angry at Nu'osa and hated being a prisoner, but at the same time there wasn't much point in baiting the enemy right now, except to keep him from seeing the droids missing from the scanners. And surely Echo had finished whatever he was doing and gotten to the Marauder by now. . .
"You keep asking," Hunter said, into the silence. "But it's not going to change the answer."
Nu'osa, who had one hand clenched at his side, said nothing. Tech wondered if Hunter was choosing to ignore the obvious danger signs.
On the other side of the room, Crosshair shifted and cleared his throat softly. With a sharply irritated sigh, Nu'osa signaled. One of the commando droids took out its stun baton and pointed it threateningly at Hunter's neck, activating it.
Case in point. The Twi'lek was losing his temper.
Hunter blinked, turning his head away from the crackling baton, and said, "Crosshair didn't say anything."
Tech huffed, shaking his head once, and closed one eye so he could observe the scene without having to see the crack in his goggles across his vision.
"You're lucky he didn't." Nu'osa snapped his fingers, and the droid withdrew. "I asked you a question, Hunter. Do you intend to answer, before I am forced to resort to violence again?"
The sergeant rolled his eyes. "I did answer."
"Hm."
"Look, we don't know where Echo is," Hunter insisted, for the third time. "Or where he's going to be."
"Are you sure about that?" Nu'osa asked, folding his arms. He drummed his fingers impatiently against the leather sleeves of his jacket. "You had better think carefully. I am reaching the limits of my patience."
Tech didn't say anything out loud, but he definitely thought, What patience?
Judging by Crosshair's raised eyebrow, the sniper was thinking exactly the same thing. Fortunately, he also stayed quiet.
"Yes, I'm sure," said Hunter stubbornly. "Echo is unpredictable. Whatever he's planning to do, it's not going to be something you'd expect."
"I expect him to make another attempt to rescue you," Nu'osa said. "And I simply cannot allow that to happen."
Hunter met his gaze with an uncaring shrug. "You asking us about his plans is a complete waste of time. Half the time we can't guess 'em."
"Then what do you suggest I do?" Nu'osa asked, seating himself near the holograph table. "Sit here and wait for him to shoot me in the back?"
From behind him, Crosshair nodded vigorously.
Nu'osa did not see this, for which Tech was grateful, but one of the B-1 droids stomped over and kicked the sniper in the ribs. "Quiet, you stupid clone!"
"Hm?" Nu'osa glanced over one shoulder. When Crosshair only glared at the droid, which motored away with a snobby metallic huff, the warlord turned his attention back to Hunter. "Very well, I will presume you're telling the truth about Echo . . . for now. But surely you know where Wrecker is."
Hunter's frown lightened suddenly. "Yeah," he said, looking down at the floor. "I – know where Wrecker is."
"Yes?" When Hunter didn't elaborate, Nu'osa said, "Well? Where is he?"
The sergeant smirked. "With Echo."
Tech sniffed, as he often did when Hunter stopped being reasonable.
"With Echo. Of course." Nu'osa visibly gritted his pointy teeth. "And what will Wrecker's plans be?"
"Well . . ." Hunter was visibly pretending to think, and Tech sighed. Usually, Hunter had more sense in this kind of situation.
When Nu'osa took a threatening step forward, Hunter said, "Wrecker's plans will be whatever Echo's plans are. . . with more explosives. Does that help, tailhead?"
The droid with the electroprod stepped forward.
Exasperated, Tech let his head thump back against the wall. He stared at the ceiling, not looking away from it until the snaps of electricity died away, then met Crosshair's eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, silently commiserating over the fact that Hunter was antagonizing the warlord on purpose, while also – in Tech's case, at least – ignoring the fact that they had been doing exactly the same thing not half an hour previous.
Then they turned to look at Hunter, who was drooping against the commando droids, and at Nu'osa, who had dropped into a chair and was rubbing his forehead again.
"I must say," the Twi'lek said, with a sharp edge to his voice. "When I attempted to force Echo's surrender, I did not realize what troublesome hostages you three in particular would turn out be."
"Heh, yeah . . ." Hunter tossed his head slightly, flicking his hair out of his eyes. "If you're tired of us, and you wanna send us back . . . I'm pretty sure Echo will let you –"
Crosshair scoffed. "Maybe."
"He'll let me, hmm?" Rolling his eyes, Nu'osa got up. "We'll have to see about that, my friends."
He went over to the computer station. As he reached for the comm, a sudden look of alarm crossed his face, and he froze. "Wait! Who turned the scanners off?"
Tech, who couldn't see the screens from his position, blinked and raised a curious eyebrow at Crosshair, who tilted his head towards Hunter.
Naturally. Tech hadn't seen it happen, but somehow the sergeant had managed.
Sometimes Tech thought that for all his fussing about the squad's risk-taking, Hunter was the worst of the lot. He was sure Echo would agree with him. . . Well, no; Echo had spent a good twelve minutes and thirty-nine seconds yelling at Tech himself, not three days previous, for various things, most of which were objectively dangerous . . .
"Finally!" Nu'osa stared at the sensor array, then shook his head once and leaned closer. Suddenly, he grabbed the comm and said, "Sergeant! Sergeant, come in."
"Right next to you," said Hunter, and ducked when the commando droid aimed a blow at his face.
For a moment, Tech thought that Nu'osa would start yelling, but instead he took a deep breath, glared at Hunter, turned deliberately back to the comm and said, "Droids!"
"Yeah?" said a droid.
"Where are you?"
"On our way to investigate the canyon in sector eight, just like you ordered."
"What canyons?!" Nu'osa activated his datapad. "I never told you to do that!"
"Uh, yeah you did. The tactical droid said so."
"What tactical droid?" demanded Nu'osa.
"Uhhhhh . . . The one . . . that sent us. . . the order? Isn't that obvious?"
"You stupid pieces of metal!" snapped the Twi'lek. "You unthinking, idiotic piles of scrap! You rust-covered boltheads!"
"Hey," complained another droid. "Rude."
"That was the ARC trooper!" Nu'osa flung the datapad down and drew his blaster, moving swiftly to the door. "He sent the order! He's probably on his way here, now! Return to the fortress, on the double!"
Without waiting for a confirmation, he turned the comm off and typed an order into the computer. His eyes widened slightly, and he turned to the commando droids. "Get outside, order the guards to be alert! The shuttle has vanished!"
Immediately, the commandos dropped Hunter on the floor and loped out of the room, metal joints squeaking.
Crosshair stopped slouching against the wall, and Tech found himself also straightening as he stared at the door. If Echo was piloting the Marauder, he must be intending to fly right into the Separatist compound – but Tech had seen spider droids guarding the walls on the flight in.
Surely Echo wouldn't try to land without taking those out first. . .
The sudden sound of an explosion answered his question, and Nu'osa jolted to his feet. Striding forward, he grabbed Hunter by the collar and hauled him to his feet, shoving the pistol against his head.
"Keep quiet if you value your life," he hissed.
"Sure thing," mumbled Hunter, side-eying him warily. "Whatever you say. . ."
Another explosion vibrated the room, and Tech said, "Nu'osa – what precisely do you plan to do when Echo comes in here?"
"As annoying as you are," Nu'osa said, dragging Hunter to the back wall, "you are still my hostages, and therefore still somewhat useful."
The Twi'lek cuffed Hunter to one of the ratcheted metal cross-supports of the wall, and pointed his gun at Crosshair. "Tech," he said. "You have five seconds to get over here."
Tech stumbled to his feet and crossed the floor as ordered, making sure to jostle the solitary B-1 as he passed it.
"Hey!" yelped the droid.
"You, get out of here," Nu'osa said, sending it an irked look. "And warn me when you see a clone coming."
"A clone?" The droid hesitated. "Uh, what kind of clone?"
"Your turn, Crosshair," said Nu'osa, and pressed the barrel of his gun unnecessarily hard into Tech's temple. "And you, droid – what do you mean, what kind of clone?"
"What if he's an angry one?" asked the droid. "Reportedly, angry clones are statistically bad for droids' functional lifespans."
"I assure you, he will be angry," Nu'osa told him, sounding almost resigned. "But no matter. He is an ARC trooper with prosthetics, and should be easily recognizable. Let me know when you see him."
"Uhhh," said the droid, rubbing its head. "You sure you don't just want me to shoot him instead?"
"Feel free to try," said Nu'osa, unfastening one of Tech's cuffs and then chaining his right hand to Hunter's left. "But I'd rather have you alert me. Now get out of here."
The droid hung its head, but it finally did leave the room. Moving efficiently, Nu'osa cuffed Crosshair to Tech, and then cuffed the sniper's free hand to the wall.
In the time it took him to do that, there were two more explosions.
"Nearly three hundred droids," muttered the warlord, going to his control panel. "I bought almost three hundred droids. . . to deal with five clones."
Tech had approximately eight insulting remarks on the tip of his tongue, and then both Crosshair and Hunter shoved him to shut him up. He huffed.
While Nu'osa wasted time sealing all the doors in the fortress – any of the Bad Batch could have told him exactly how fast Echo could get through typical programming like that – Tech tugged at the cuffs chaining him to his teammates.
"This is not what I would call a good situation," he mumbled. "Our odds of not dying are relatively low."
"They always are," Crosshair reminded him.
"Yes, but usually we can do something about those odds," Tech said. "Waiting to be rescued is not my preferred method of removing myself from a situation."
Hunter leaned back, tilting one side of his head against the wall. "The Marauder's here," he said in a low voice.
The warlord, who had been standing motionless and watching his scanners, suddenly took a step back.
From outside, in the hall, came a single shot and a programmed yelp from the B-1 on guard.
"Hey, Nu'osa," said Hunter. "I think we know where Hunter is."
Nu'osa turned and stared at him.
"And," said Tech. "I believe we may safely conclude that the person causing those repeated explosions is Wrecker."
"Yeah," said Crosshair. "Now you have the answers to your questions. Interrogation over."
The Twi'lek blinked. Then he shook his head, took another step back and stood next to Crosshair, gun aimed directly at the side of his face.
Nothing happened for a long moment. The explosions and thumps from outside the fortress continued, but on a much smaller scale. Tech could tell that Wrecker had switched to grenades rather than detpacks.
Then, there was a click. And another click. As the seconds passed, Nu'osa's finger tensed on the trigger. Everyone in the room stared at the double-sealed door, hardly breathing.
Then, the circular metal door slid open to reveal Echo, dripping wet and covered in sand. He had his helmet under his scomp arm, a raised, reddened mark across one cheekbone, and was pointing a blaster at the Twi'lek warlord.
"Nu'osa," he said, in the dangerous tones of a man who was at the absolute limit of his tolerance. "I want my squad back, now."
The warlord slumped a little. "Quite frankly," he said, "I can't imagine why."
Echo met Tech's eyes and smirked, just a little. "Yeah . . ." he said, in an almost sympathetic tone. "They're pretty awful, aren't they."
"We didn't ask to be hostages," muttered Crosshair.
"Be silent," said Nu'osa, prodding him with the blaster. Then he stepped quickly out of range before Crosshair could kick at him. "You have no say in any of this."
"Do I have any say in it?" asked Tech brightly.
"No! Especially not you."
Hunter opened his mouth, and Nu'osa glared at him. The sergeant blinked and fell silent, apparently deciding not to repeat Tech's question. Based on his expression, this was less because he was afraid and more because he was tired and wanted the whole situation to just stop.
Echo edged his way into the room. "Now that we've established that they're all proverbial pains in the neck," he said. "I'll just take them off your hands, shall I. . .? Let them go."
"Not just like that," said Nu'osa. "I have no intention of dying on this miserable rock."
"Uh-huh," said Echo, unimpressed. "Well, at least you've got some sense in that thick head of yours."
"Don't come a step closer," said Nu'osa, and held up his left hand to reveal a black sphere with a rapidly blinking red light. "This grenade is armed, as I'm sure you can tell. If my finger so much as slips, all of us will die."
Echo eyed him, then nodded and took a reluctant step back. "What do you suggest, then? You can't take me with you. Wrecker destroyed your shuttle, and your droids, and he's only waiting for my order to turn this entire place into shrapnel."
"Ah," said Nu'osa. He didn't seem quite as irritated as Tech would have hoped, but there probably wasn't much room for petty emotions such as irritation when one was staring down the barrel of an angry ARC trooper's blaster. "I do have a suggestion."
Echo sighed loudly. "Of course you do. Fine. Out with it."
"You allow me to leave this room," said Nu'osa. "Without any interference. You comm Wrecker and tell him to let me get out of the fortress before he opens fire."
Echo narrowed his eyes. "You have another ship somewhere, don't you?"
"I knew I was dealing with a master tactician," said Nu'osa, raising an offended eyebrow. "And I do, as you said, have some sense."
"Enough sense to leave us alone after you get your ship?" said Echo, his gaze flickering to the blinking grenade.
"Yes," said Nu'osa. "I am not interested in revenge for the sake of revenge. . . It really is a terrible attitude to have as far as business is concerned."
"Right," said Echo shortly. Never moving his eyes from Nu'osa's, he lifted the comm to his mouth and said, "Wrecker. Nu'osa's going to make his way out of here. Let him go."
"Awww, do I have to?"
"Unfortunately? Yes."
"Great," complained Wrecker. "I was really looking forward to pounding him good!"
"Keep looking forward to it," Echo told him, with a dangerous smirk in the Twi'lek's direction. "Something tells me we might run into this guy again."
He hung up. "Am I right, Nu'osa?"
"Quite likely, if I have the funding to spend on such pursuits," the Twi'lek admitted casually. "We of the Saresh clan can be quite focused when it comes to business deals we've made with others."
"Yeah," said Echo. "I know. Let me guess, somewhere in the family line was a cousin named Tar."
Tech was not confused, because he'd read Echo's mission records, but Hunter and Crosshair were staring questioningly at the ARC.
"A second cousin." Nu'osa blinked. "It is a pity I have no time to catch up with you on how you knew him, but in the meantime, I have a flight to catch, so if you will excuse me. . ."
He slipped past his three prisoners and backed towards the door, keeping his eyes on Echo the entire time.
"Hold it," said Echo sharply, and Nu'osa froze.
"What?"
"I'll just escort you to the edge of the fortress," the ARC decided. "So you don't get any ideas about throwing that grenade once you're out of here."
". . . Ah," Nu'osa said. "Well, it had not occurred to me before you mentioned it, but I suppose that will not break our deal."
"Exactly," said Echo. "Let's go."
And he and the warlord left the room, with Echo a couple steps behind the Twi'lek, leaving the three commandos still chained to the wall.
"Thanks for the rescue, Echo," Crosshair called after him.
"Stow it!" Echo barked. "Waiting a little longer won't kill you!"
He had a point. Tech sighed and tugged ineffectually at the cuffs that chained him to his squad mates, until Hunter told him to cut it out.
Their collective boredom didn't last long, though, because just over two minutes later, Echo was back in the room. He had Hunter's vibroblade in one hand, and used it to slash through his squad mates' cuffs.
"Everyone okay?" he asked, his concerned gaze flitting over them. He paused, raising an eyebrow at Tech, then said, "Tech."
"Yes?" Tech said, rubbing his wrists. Noticing where Echo's gaze was focused, he said, "My nose is not broken, and neither is anything else."
"Your face is covered in blood," Echo told him obviously.
"Yes. That would be because I did not have access to water or medical supplies for the past few hours."
"It's been almost six hours," Echo informed him. "On my end, it's been six hours of a lot of cold rain and sand and waking up in a cold cave after being stunned. It's freezing. I would like to get back to the ship. I take it everyone's actually okay?"
"Yeah," said Hunter. "We're all fine."
"Uh-huh. . ." Echo surveyed the three of them with clear disapproval, scomp link and hand resting on his waist.
Crosshair sniffed. "You look like you've had a fun time, too," he said, gaze flickering from the wet sand that absolutely covered Echo's armor to the reddened mark on his cheek. "What'd you do, walk into a support beam?"
"It was a commando droid's fist, actually," said Echo stiffly, and put his helmet back on. "Wrecker's got your armor and weapons already. Come on, let's get back to the Marauder."
Some twenty minutes later, after Wrecker had gotten the privilege of blowing the fortress to smithereens, and after the Marauder had actually left the planet, Echo set to work making sure everyone was taken care of.
He didn't end up doing much. Crosshair in particular behaved as if he was allergic to the very idea of someone helping him patch up the various cuts and scrapes. So did the others, except for Wrecker, and he was the least hurt of the bunch.
So, instead, Echo headed down to the refresher to take a shower while the rest of his squad were occupied with patching themselves up. After tossing his armor in a pile outside the door, Echo proceeded to use up all the hot water with no compunction whatsoever. He had a feeling none of his teammates would dare complain at him for it tonight, even if they bothered using water rather than the sonic; and besides, it took all the hot water before he was feeling sufficiently thawed out from the last however many hours he'd spent running around that Force-forsaken hunk of sand-covered rock.
When he was once again clean and dry and had managed to get all the sand out of his scomp link, Echo went back up to the galley, intending to make himself some hot soup to warm himself up.
To his surprise, a cup of soup was already sitting on the counter, along with a cup of hot caf. Tech's datapad was sitting nearby, and Echo's name was on the screen, along with a large arrow that pointed directly at the two cups. Just in case anyone could possibly be in doubt as to whose soup and caf it was.
Shaking his head with a faint smile, Echo picked up the soup and gave it a stir. It had already gone cold, and was full of slight gelatinous lumps, which definitely meant that Crosshair had made it. Hunter also, at times, had the mysterious ability to ruin prepackaged things that only needed to have hot water added, but he always boiled the water before adding it, and used too much. Crosshair never heated his water enough, and used too little, and was always confused when it didn't turn out the way it should.
Smirking, Echo heated some extra water, added it, and stirred it until the lumps disappeared. He took a sip of caf, which had to have been made by Wrecker because it tasted amazing, then balanced the cup against his chest with his scomp link, picked up his soup, and headed into the cockpit.
It was currently empty, since the ship was on autopilot, so Echo was surprised to find a blanket set on the co-pilot's seat. It was his, and the fact that it was folded properly let Echo know that Hunter had been the one to put it there.
From the corridor near the cargo hold came the sound of a faint shuffle and an even fainter, "Quiet!"
Echo pretended not to hear it. He set down his caf and soup, wrapped the blanket firmly around his shoulders, and sat down. Just to keep up appearances, he spent a minute or so drinking caf and mumbling under his breath about unnecessary rescue missions and squad mates who insisted on getting into more trouble than they needed to.
None of the others entered the room. When Echo had gotten his complaining out of the way, he ate his soup in a peaceful quiet that was very foreign to the Marauder. And then, even though it was nearing midnight and the quiet was nice, he figured he'd had quite enough of that.
"Thanks," he said to the empty room, and was not surprised when he heard a surprised scuffle from the corridor. "Are you lot going to act normal now, or do you figure to keep lurking in the corridor?"
There was a pause, and then Wrecker entered the cockpit, looking sheepish. "We just, uh, figured you'd want some peace and quiet," he said.
"Much appreciated," said Echo. "And so were the caf and soup - and blanket. I'm feeling much more human now."
"Oh, good," said Tech, popping inside. "Then may I assume it is safe to resume my former project?"
"You," said Echo, forcing himself to stand up, "may assume that you're going to get off to bed and rest."
Tech tilted his head, clearly startled. "But –"
"Don't try to sneak off, Cross," said Echo, aiming his voice at the thin shadow he could see sidling away. He could tell his squad mates were feeling apologetic for his having to rescue them, and while he didn't begrudge them the rescue at all, he figured he'd better get what he could out of it, while he could. "You guys are all going to get some sleep."
"Echo," said Hunter, finally appearing in the doorway along with Crosshair. "I'll take first watch, you should –"
"I will take first watch," said Echo, folding his arms. "That way, you will get the sleep you clearly need, and I will get the quiet that I just as clearly need."
When they all exchanged dubious looks, he took a deep breath and barked, "GOT THAT, TROOPERS?"
"Uh, right," said Wrecker. "G'night, Echo!"
". . . I thought Hunter was the sergeant," said Crosshair, but he was already heading for the bunkroom, so Echo pretended not to hear.
"If you're sure," began Hunter, and Echo gave him his best imitation of a Commander Cody glare, which was quite formidable if he did say so himself.
That got Tech and Hunter to back off hastily, and as soon as Echo heard all four of them arguing quietly as they got into their bunks, the ARC trooper readjusted his blanket and settled down again for a nice peaceful night. He felt like he'd really earned this one.