Chapter 8 - We're Reckless (1:6)

Author's Note: Vision is lucky Tech's nice and she's young, or he'd throw the comb in her face and walk out. :) xDXD Also, Tech is not paid enough.

PS. This is for the square "hair styling" on the Clone OC bingo. xD

~ Rivana Rita

I'm curled in the gunner's mount, next to Omega, staring at the picture of... them. My brothers. I try to distract myself when we're up, to make myself think about something other than how Crosshair isn't here.

Omega wasn't with them when the five of them were together. I was. She never got to see them happy together. Things have changed over the month apart. I was there right after Echo joined, and I didn't get to see them grow close like they are now. I don't even know what Echo and Crosshair were like later on. I didn't see them all adjusted to... being a team.

The first time I heard Hunter laugh was back when the tickle-attack thing started. Crosshair jumped him, and they spent a ridiculous length of time scuffling on the floor together. They were so happy.

I used to sleep by Crosshair sometimes. I'd never slept without Omega until then, and being alone was terrifying. I'd drop off with exhaustion sometimes but not always. I wasn't going to risk another Wrecker-crushing-me situation, and being by Hunter was a bit... weird. Even if Crosshair griped and growled about it the whole time.

...

In Crosshair's defense, he didn't actually get annoyed until I started crawling over him to hide from Tech, who he sleeps across from. But I slept with his warmth next to mine and we can't be a lot more intimate than that. I want to get that again, to bring him back.

I can see what Crosshair's absence is doing to all of us. I can see how short-tempered all four of them are being, how Hunter's withdrawing on himself.

"I miss him," I mumble – my sister's awake, but the others are sleeping. Mostly.

She grabs my hand, sliding her arm under Lula. We're close enough to feel each other's warmth, and I wish that could be enough like it always used to be, but now that I've known Crosshair, I can't let him go.

"He should be here with us. Do you think he misses us?"

"I don't know," she whispers back, "Probably. But we'll figure something out."

It feels stupid that I doubted him. I did, back in the beginning, even if I couldn't understand why he was being so uncharacteristically hostile towards Hunter – the only one he's never argued with. I saw the deep, aching hurt etched on Hunter's face, and the way he didn't hesitate to take a hit for Crosshair right after. Crosshair was hurting him, but Hunter didn't care – he didn't let it stop him. He wouldn't because that's just who he is. Hunter would do anything to protect him. He still would, and I know that. We need him, and he needs us.

We were never supposed to be apart. After Omega got her chance, we were supposed to leave and be free. I never expected us to get taken apart again. "I don't wanna wait."

"Maybe we can talk to Hunter about it?" 'emga offers.

Yeah. Probably. He'd know what to do, but I don't want to bring Crosshair up again. The others aren't talking about him, and it drives me crazy, because it feels like I'm the only one that misses him, but I don't want to do something that might hurt them, either.

Maybe, on second thought, I'm not quite ready to sleep yet. Yet.

On hindsight, I realize very, very quickly, balancing a droid-head on mine is not a good idea. They're sharp. And pokey. And it gets tangled in my hair very, very easily.

... On second thought, I probably shouldn't have done that.

Going to sleep solves most of life's problems. Apparently, not getting-droids-tangled-in-your-hair problems, though. Happened to Hunter once, and I feel so bad for him now, because when I finally wake up, it's even more a nightmare than when I went to sleep after convincing Omega we can worry about it in the morning.

I yelp loudly half-way to sitting up and drop back onto the floor.

I really, really feel bad for laughing at Hunter now. "'mega?" I squeak. She's not beside me – she's off somewhere in the ship, and I badly need someone to rescue me.

"I'm stuck."

"Perhaps you should cut it," Tech advises completely unsympathetically, turning to me. Wrecker and Hunter are up front, I think, and Omega's talking to Echo – something about bows and training – a little farther forwards.

"No," I reply grumpily, arms crossed, "I'm not cutting my hair again. Nala Se made me do it all the time, and I hated it." I'm fairly certain part of being free is making choices like that, and besides. Hunter's is longer than mine. A little bit, but still.

"I do not see your issue," Tech informs me bluntly, "Do you know how long it would be if you didn't cut it?"

I glare harder. "Too bad. I'm not changing my mind."

"You will when it's too long to keep track of," he maintains stubbornly, and I stick my tongue out at him.

"Yeah, whatever. Can you help me get this droid outta my hair?" Oopsies, now I sound like Cid. Hmph.

I'm mind-boggled when he approaches to help me out. I honestly thought he'd let me suffer alone. And let 'mega deal with it, because she's the only one who puts up with me when I'm good and truly cranky. Or maybe she's the only one who's dealt with it, period. Doesn't happen often.

"Hunter didn't cut his for two years," Tech announces, as if I – wait, whaaaat?! "And it was very long." He's climbed half on the stairs, half inside the gunner's mount now, and I'm grumpy I can't get up yet. It's weird to have him so close to me.

"How long," I ask slowly, because I can already tell from his tone this is the beginning of a very long, detailed nightmare, "Is very long?"

"About two feet," he replies much too calmly. "It was down to his elbow."

I snort. The imagery is equally hilarious and traumatic. I can't imagine Hunter with that long of hair. I can hardly imagine him that little, either. It's kinda cute, though.

Tech is giving me that disturbingly calculating look like he's trying to decipher an especially complicated math problem that I guarantee he never struggles with in the first place. That's kinda what I am, though, right?

Tech has never really touched me before, and I certainly don't have issue with it – even if he is still creepy, and nothing will ever change my mind about that – but it's just... different, I guess. Weird. Wrecker head-pats me sometimes, but otherwise, they've never been that... intimate with me. Crosshair pulling my hair does not count. And Omega and I comb each other's sometimes, but we don't even have a comb here. Lost that on Kamino, which is fine. It's not like our hair is exactly long enough to need to worry about much.

Yet.

"It was even more of a mess than yours," Tech informs me disapprovingly, "Which is impressive, considering how you have evidently refrained from combing it for days."

Ouch. I feel called out. "I don't even have a comb here," I grouch. "We left ours on Kamino."

"Hunter has one."

"Has one what?" Hunter queries, appearing beside Tech. I burst out giggling when I see him again – I can't help it.

"Vision, and presumedly Omega, have –"

Stars. I'm six years old. I do not need Tech worrying about my hair. "It doesn't matter!" I yell over him.

"Yes, it does," he argues fiercely, "If you are going to keep it long, you will have to take care of it."

If he wasn't being nice, I'd want to throw the droid head at him.

"Doesn't matter!" I yelp, flapping my arms.

"Stop moving," Tech grumbles. "It is only making this more difficult."

I grumpily stop flailing, not that I'm moving more than my arms, thank you, Tech. I'll only stop if he stops trying to tattle. That is stupid, and I don't need Hunter questioning my sanity, because that's apparently a sanity related issue. Or something. "Are you almost done yet?"

"If you don't want to cut it, it will take significantly longer."

Hmph. I remember when this happened to Hunter. Crosshair spent ages dealing with it, and he found it unreasonably hilarious. I'm so, so glad he's not here to laugh at me over it. As always, memories crash over me with a fierce wave of longing. I know what it used to be like for Crosshair to be here, and I hate seeing it any other way.

I know what it's doing to us all.

"Hunter," Tech requests, "Do you have your comb aboard?"

"... Yes?" His uncertainty is more amused than anything else.

"Vision evidently does not understand how to –"

"Stop being mean," I gripe.

"I am not," he replies, flustered.

"Seriously," I grumble, "You hardly have any hair. How do you even know how to take care of it?"

"Mine is," Hunter interjects, visibly amused, and it's the first time he looked genuinely amused since we left Kamino. Well, at least he's happy about something, even if it's at my misery. "Here." He tosses it at us, and I grab it before Tech can. I'm not helpless, thanks for asking.

"You can sit up now," Tech says, shoving the droid head away from me. "I recommend not sleeping right next to it next time." He steals the comb from me, ignoring my shrieks, with a grumpy, "On account of how you neglected it all this time, I do not believe you won't continue to do so."

Mean. Seriously.

He's insistent on combing it himself now, and he apparently can be even more stubborn than Crosshair if he's genuinely trying to be. "If you keep it long, I suggest at least getting something to tie it back with," he says, ignoring my shrieks about him scalping me – for the record, it does not hurt that much. I'm just trying to make him leave me alone. Omega is just laughing at me, the traitor.

I can't see Hunter and Echo with my back facing them, but I'm fully convinced they're laughing at me, too.

That... gives me an idea though. "Well... I could get a head-thingy like Hunter." What? The fact that I'm asking for that, plus have a blaster and a knife, has no relation to anything at all. I'm not trying to copy him or anything. Why would I? Nope, not at all.

Why would – oh, whatever.

"If that's what you want," Hunter replies. I can't read the note in his voice.

"Oh, can it be blue?"

**w**

It is blue. I keep my hair combed the same of course, parted weirdly towards the side like Omega does because that's what I'm used to, but my headband-thingy keeps it from flopping everywhere. It's not long right now, but it will be soon, apparently. 'mega's undecided about whether she wants to get one, too. I think it'd be cool.

I just want to know what color she'd choose. It'd be cute if she had pink. I mean light pink, not eye-assaulting magenta.

Hunter is so lucky though. His hair is slightly wavy, but hardly. Mine is a madly curly mess. I can never keep it straight.

Cid thankfully has no problem with us using her parlor for practice, so Echo takes Omega and I there with our bows. We're all there, obviously, but he's the one teaching us. Hunter and Wrecker are standing behind watching, and Tech, predictably, is busy with his datapad in the far corner of the universe as though nothing else exists.

We're shooting towards the door to avoid hurting anyone – Omega's aim is terrible, and mine is not at its best either – and I'm about to say I think it worked when someone walks in at the wrong time, and my sister's shot hits the wall right next to them.

For a panicked moment, everyone freezes, and the person who came in runs back out with Omega offering an awkward "sorry."

I burst out laughing. Can't help it.

I'm giggling so hard my bow way dips and I can hardly hold it at all. Everyone is looking at me like I lost my mind, and probably, I did, but I can't stop cackling. "Amazing," I wheeze, "Truly perfect."

She's giving me this sullenly disappointed face, and I step back, trying to hide my grin, but it's not working.

"What?" I ask, struggling to contain my laughter. "That was funny."

She does not look remotely convinced, but raises her bow again, the handle back. "Steady," Echo says, "Arms level and keep your eyes on the target."

"You can do it, kid!" cheers one of the two annoying aliens.

"Not a chance. Miss! Come on! Miss!" taunts the other.

I feel bad for laughing with them here, too, but like...

"Ah! Got it!" Omega cheers when the shot hits the outer edge of the yellow circle.

The big alien laughs. "Bull's eye! Pay up." The other grumpily groans and drops some credits in his hand.

"Good," Echo replies, "Again."

"But I already hit the target three times," she objects sullenly.

"Out of twelve," Echo replies, crouching and touching her shoulder. I turn around, firing up my bow and raising it, planting my feet and looking down the pink energy-line. My stance is... probably weird, but I'm not always gonna have time to adjust it, right? "That's luck, Omega, not skill. Soldiers need to be consistent."

I fire, and the shot hits target again. That's my fifth time. Not that I've been trying quite as much as 'mega, honestly. I'm trying not to make her feel... left out? I don't know. I've been practicing longer, so it's not really fair, but still.

Omega refires her bow next to me.

"Okay, double or nothing she chokes," the Weequay says gleefully.

Her eyes dart to them, annoyed, before she looks to the target again and fires.

I honestly don't know what it is that makes me burst out laughing again: her panicked expression as her hand moves wrong, or the shower of sparks as the shot hits the holotable. "I was doing better until those two showed up," my sister grumbles.

I retreat, wheezing, to Wrecker's side. Like, I get laughing is mean and I'd flip if someone did that to me, but I can't help it.

"You have to learn to tune out distractions, which comes with practice," Echo tells her. He's speaking with the firm gentleness that he reserves solely for the two of us. It's like he, unlike the others, understands how to do this, whatever exactly this is. His commander, I'm guessing. He watched Anakin train their commander, and I have no idea how that works with Jedi, but I guess it would've been semi-similar? "Again."

She fires, and the shot again flies way off-course, hitting the wall a distance away.

"Not exactly a natural, is she?" Wrecker whispers, and Hunter shrugs.

Cid, predictably, decides that's her cue to appear from her office. She whacks Wrecker aside, ignoring his yelp. "Okay, playtime's over. We need to talk. You two, scram." She makes shooing motions, and the other two scramble for the door with a frantic "okay, we're going, we're going."

By now, Tech has returned to join us, finally finding life a shred more intriguing than his datapad.

"I assume you boys know what a tactical droid is?" Cid asks, and I stare at her. Is that a serious question? Of course, I do. I was supposed to fight those things one day, and the first thing Tech did when he realized how little I knew about the universe was desperately attempt to cram my brain full of droid nonsense. Tech immediately looks to Hunter and Echo in alarm. "They were the oper –"

"The operational brains of the Separatist military," Tech interjects, shoving past Hunter who twists aside, his other hand on Echo's shoulder.

"Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba," Cid babbles, flailing her claws at him, and that's the first moment I decide I like her, because that is me almost whenever he starts talking. "This is my briefing, Goggles."

She throws Wrecker off the holotable, ignoring his yelp and my glare.

"Tactical droid intel has tremendous value, which is why you're gonna break into this decommissioning facility on Corellia and retrieve one before they're all destroyed," Cid replies, turning on a hologram. It's some kind of facility. It looks like a factory.

Hunter looks at it, assessing. He glances at Echo and Tech before replying with a steady, "We haven't decided if we're gonna work for you or not."

I glance up at him. It's droids, and probably the only time I'll get to see them. It's stupid, but it's what I want to do.

Cid turns off the hologram. "Allow me to decide for you. You're in!" Hunter twitches back, expression tightening a little, though it's not hostile or anything. She launches into a rant about 'beneficial arrangements', and really?

I'm in for the fun.

Hunter looks to Echo and Tech again, which I'm starting to realize is normal, and it seems far more normal than I remember from them before. How much changed during our months apart, and how much from losing Crosshair, I have no idea.

"Hey," I object, lightly elbowing Hunter's thigh, "It's the only time I'll get to see battle droids."

He sighs, catching my gaze and Omega's. "I guess we're in."

"I know you're in. I just told you you're in," Cid gripes, turning to Omega and grabbing her arm. "And you, you're releasing too soon because of those weak noodle arms. Build up your strength," she informs, taking the bow from her and firing at the target. I watch, wide-eyed, as it hits dead-center all three times. That – whoa. My brothers could do that, but I somehow never took Cid as knowing much about weaponry. Don't know why. "Lesson over."

**w**

She apparently left out the fact that there's police droids there. Hunter seems annoyed by it, but I'm just gleeful. The mission with Muchi was cool, but this isn't the same. It's far more... real.

Tech pinpoints a blind point in the droid's defenses, and we move in from there. We get the honor of climbing a giant ladder, which of course, Wrecker is not happy about.

I don't get it. I love being high up. It's thrilling.

I grab Wrecker's hand and pull him inside when we reach the top before he can go to the edge to terrify himself anyway. Wrecker knocks out a factory worker with a far too gleeful "nighty night" and we move in onto one of the platforms overlooking the factory itself.

There are walkways winding across it, and overall, it's very dark, which is definitely to our advantage. The air is stifling hot and hard to breathe. Droid pieces are on some kind of conveyer that's rolling along, dropping them into a melting area, which is casting an eerie, golden-orange glow throughout the building. Probably the primary source of lighting.

There are fully assembled battle droids moving right past us, and it's so weird to see them up close. They're kinda cute. I'd feel bad about chopping them up.

We're crouching against a rail, trying to take shelter from the people moving around elsewhere. "Echo, Tech. We'll locate and retrieve the droid," Hunter says, dropping into a crouch again and turning to his brothers. "Wrecker, cover us up top."

"But being the lookout was Crosshair's job," Wrecker whines.

"That wasn't a request," Hunter replies flatly.

"I can do it?" I offer. "I mean, 'mega and I did that fine before." On second thought, I still don't have that grappling hook I wanted – I desperately need the thing, but we don't have enough spare credits to think about buying one yet. Maybe it's best if I don't go up so high.

"And what about me?" Omega queries.

"No," he answers, "Stay here, and keep your eyes peeled for the target. Let's move." He motions to the others, and they scramble down the ladder, heading out. Wrecker hovers a moment, unhappily.

"We'll be fine," I tell him, with a certainty I don't have, because I just... I think something's wrong. I've been dreaming every night, whether it's flashes of someone in black and orange, or... Crosshair that once, or Kamino.

The dreams of blue fire are the most terrifying.

He takes off, climbing upward.

The others are talking, and I move to the edge, crouching and scanning the conveyers down below. It's gotta be here somewhere. Omega has the macrobinoculars, and we hafta share a pair, so I can't see properly. Don't need to, though. I have Sight that she doesn't.

Something's wrong, something's wrong, something's –

"Found it!" my sister pipes up, and I can See something out of my line of sight. There's something... nearby, something I need to be worried about. My hand creeps closer to my blaster. "Sort of. The droid's already in pieces."

"Is the head intact?" Tech inquires.

"Affirmative," she replies. "– Wait! Someone just ran off with the droid head."

Oh boy. That's not good. "I can get it," I offer.

"Negative," Hunter replies, "Stay out of sight."

"I see 'em," Wrecker reports. "One of the workers is stealing our target."

I glance down, hand resting on my blaster now. Something's close. They're trying to sneak up on us. I whip out my blaster twisting around to face the person, stepping forwards to shield Omega all in the same move.

It's one of the workers.

"Whoa, whoa," she yelps, lifting the gray mask she's wearing so I can see her face. "Take it easy, kid."

"Keep your distance, then," I snarl furiously, hissing at her, and I hear Omega drawing and firing up her energy-bow.

"Stay back," Omega snaps, coming up to stand beside me. My eyes flick towards her for half a second. I'd do anything to protect her, and it's something we'd do for each other, no matter if she's older or if I'm the actual soldier.

"I don't wanna hurt you, but I can't have you getting in the way," she replies flippantly.

"You're the one in my way," 'mega snarls.

"Our way," I correct. "'mega. Go for it. I'll keep her here." Omega hesitates, glancing between us.

"I don't think so," the not-worker replies, eyes narrowing. I think she's protecting something as much as trying to steal our target, but I don't appreciate it.

"Yeah?" I snip back. "Well, I do. I'm the one holding the blaster. Go for it, sis. Fast." I have the leverage now, because if she tries to hurt Omega, or stop her, I'll just shoot. It's not like those Zygerrians, where they needed to go, but I don't like this person, either. And we need to get that droid head.

"Rafa, I've got the target," a voice says from the other end. "Where are you?"

"Don't answer," I order, eyes narrowing, before the worker – Rafa? – can answer. She'll call support, backup, and we can't have that.

The girl on the other end keeps talking, voice filtering over, but it doesn't matter.

Omega glances at me, and I nod to her, not turning my gaze from Rafa. My sister takes off, darting past her, turning her bow off and slinging it onto her back as she scrambles down the ladder. "There's a second person after the tactical droid," she says over our comms, "But Vision's got her."

"In short," I reply, "We've already been seen, so never mind not being spotted."

"Why don't you lower the blaster, and we can talk about this?" Rafa suggests.

"How 'bout we 'talk about this' while I still have it out?" I snap back. I'm not lowering it so she can get the jump on me. I'm not an idiot. The air is hot and sticky, and I shift a hand from my blaster to wipe across my forehead – my headband thingy still feels weird. I'm still adjusting to it. And it luckily doesn't feel wet. Yet. I do need to get used to my hair not flopping in my face constantly, though.

"It's a little hard to think with you pointing it at me."

"Remind of the part where that's my problem."

Rafa's eyes dart to something behind me, and I freeze. I twist around, throwing a glance over my shoulder, just to make sure because she's not alone here, and if someone else working with her sneaks up behind me, it'll be stupid.

I should've caught it. She darts forwards, grabbing my wrist and trying to steal my blaster. I snarl at her, jerking against her, trying to fire at her, but she has it firmly pointed away.

The shot flies wild, hitting a wall somewhere, bursting some pipe or something and steam starts pouring out.

We both freeze, and I try shoving her away, though my blaster clatters from my hands off the walkway and down, down, down.

That was the one Hunter gave me. Got for me, way back, and it –

An alarm starts blaring.

"Alright, laser brain," I snarl, half of the mind of grabbing my knife and just stabbing her. "How do you plan to get out of here?"

"Nice going, kid," she scoffs.

"Excuse me?!" I yell. "You're the idiot that grabbed my blaster!"

Doors are opening in multiple places, including right nearby, and police droids are coming in. I could really, really use my blaster right about now.

"Don't just stand there. Grab a weapon," Rafa gripes.

"You know," I growl back, "You don't want me to do that, or I'll start with you."

This girl. I swear.

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