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His scomp turned and whirred, but the door stayed closed. Echo looked at it, then at his arm, then back at the door, brows furrowed deeper than usual.
“Problem?” Hunter checked.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Echo grumbled. A sharp pain twisted inside his chest, but he discarded it. There wasn’t time now for that, he removed his arm from the slot, and introduced it again with the same result: nothing. “It should open.”
“Try turning it the other way,” Wrecker commented.
“Don’t be absurd, it doesn’t work like that,” came Tech’s clipped tone as he approached the door as well and connected his datapad to it.
“Have you tried turning it on and off again?”
“Crosshair, I swear—“
“Put it in rice?”
“It exists the possibility that your software is not compatible with the interface, maybe it is a more advanced program,” Tech muttered, disconnecting the datapad, apparently not obtaining any results either. “Maybe if I connect—“
“Put down that finger, are you calling me obsolete?”
“I was just suggesting—“
“What I would suggest is finding an alternative route, now. We cannot stay here.”
“You know how much it pains me to say this, but Hunter is right.”
“And why in Kamino name would it pain you to say that?”
“Well…”
“Guys,” Echo put himself between Hunter and Crosshair before they could start. Or continue. “Let’s go back to the last corridor, I saw another door there that should take us outside as well.”
A collective grunt was all the answer he got, which was good enough in his opinion right now. He pushed Tech’s hand away, who was trying to connect his datapad to his scomp, and headed back retracing his steps, hoping that the other exit worked.
It did work. But no plan B is perfect. The moment they went through the door, an alarm started blasting through the whole compound, completed with an extremely annoying fanfare of lights as well. Hunter swore like a commando, and Echo winced under his helmet. They ran faster towards the extraction point, but before they could reach the exterior wall, the stomps of metallic feet started to be heard above the alarm.
“Enemies inside the perimeter. Engage!”
“Roger, roger.”
In a matter of seconds, the whole team was surrounded by battle droids, blasters raised, and pointing at them. They had no other option but to stop their retreat, and find cover around the landing pad they were in.
“We have them! Captain, we have the intruders surrounded, awaiting orders.”
Echo didn’t like hiding, it was preferable to blast some droids, but he was down on firepower since… well. Since.
Some movement at his right took him out of his thoughts. Crosshair was hiding by himself behind a turret, and he saw him stuck his rifle out of his hiding spot, and shot. The alarm was disabled, silence falling immediately in the area they were. He noticed Echo watching and saluted him with two fingers smoothly.
“Hey, at least they turned off that kriffing noise!”
Hunter chuckled airily, looking above his crate to evaluate the situation. “Sure, it’s all looking bright right now.”
Echo looked around his crate as well. At least fifty B-1 battle droids stood in formation, cutting all possible retreat on that side. They were in a dead end, but at least the wall offered them a reprise, avoiding them to be surrounded by all sides.
The wall.
Echo looked again at the unmoving droids. They were waiting for orders, he had seen it before plenty of times, they never move until a superior arrives, and for some reason the droid in command had not arrived yet. Which meant they had an opportunity to put a plan in motion.
“Wrecker!” Echo shouted at the man two crates over. Tech, who was crouched next to him, looked up and Echo swore he could see the wheels turning behind his goggles.
“What?”
“I have a plan,” Hunter and Crosshair didn’t react, but he knew they were listening as well. He tried not to smile at his own question. “Do you have any explosives?”
“Oh, yes!” Wrecker almost stood out from the excitement. “I thought you’d never ask!”
“Echo, you sure about this?” Hunter asked him.
Was he? He was always sure about his plans, they were his pride and joy. Then again, he had been sure about being able to open that door when they planned today’s mission. That sharp pain again. He had been sure. In the same way that he had been sure that he was going to die that day. And before that, he had been sure that he would always be a 501st trooper. Or, at least, he had been sure that it would always be him by his side. It wasn’t him who answered.
“Yes, we are.” Tech sounded sure, as always. “We reviewed the schematics of the compound before the mission, and this wall is actually thin enough to open a hole through it with a controlled explosion.”
Tech looked at him, awaiting confirmation. “Ah, yes. They are distracted now, waiting orders. If we put the charges there, and there, it will open a path for us before they can even say roger once.”
The moment Hunter nodded, Wrecker uttered an excited yelp and started to prepare the explosives. When the charges were ready, they moved as one. The droids were expecting an escape attempt, but they simply switched to the other side of their hiding spots, to their utter bafflement. Before any of the clankers could react, the explosion wrought havoc among their formation, pushing most of them backward, towards the side of the building.
It wasn’t until they were back at the Marauder, and Tech was pushing the coordinates for the hyperspace jump, that they all released a collective breath they didn’t know they were holding. It wasn’t the closest call they had had since Echo joined the team, but it hadn’t been the smoothest either.
“I’m just saying, the hole didn’t need to be big enough for a bantha.”
“Just because you are a skinny guy doesn’t mean the rest of us are. I think it was the perfect size!”
“It was a good job, Wrecker, don’t listen to him.”
“It was too big for you, as well. Too tall.”
“What does that mean now?”
Hunter left the cockpit grumbling after a snickering Crosshair, and Echo sagged into the copilot chair, exhausted. He was still uneasy, and while usually the banter amused him, it was making him strangely melancholic right now. The view of the blinding lights through the windows wasn’t working this time, either. He used to love it. Now it made him claustrophobic.
He sighed and turned the chair. Wrecker had gone away as well, and Tech was engrossed with his datapad. They had done a good job, the worries of the mission obviously forgotten, falling smoothly into their routine until the next call. He should be content that in the end they managed to get out, he knew that plans didn’t always work how you devised them, and being able to come with a new one was an even more valuable skill. Still.
It should have worked. He should have. He wasn’t supposed to–
“Problem?” Tech’s voice pushed him out of his stupor.
He looked up and saw Tech still crouched over his datapad, his body was slightly turned towards him though, and Echo took that as a sign that he didn’t hallucinate his voice.
“I find it strange, that we don’t do a debriefing session after the mission,” Echo half-lied.
“It would be redundant, there is no need for a debrief when there is no one to inform about the status of your mission.” Tech stopped talking abruptly, and put down his datapad. “Are you worried about what happened? Is this what it is about? Because I’ve explained to you that before, and I know that you are intelligent enough to not need to be explained things twice.”
Echo held back a sarcastic thank you, and decided to answer honestly. “I don’t know.”
“You don't… know?” Tech’s head turned fractionally to one side, which reminded Echo of a massiff.
“Yes, I don’t know. I do, but I don’t. I am upset. That door was supposed to open, so we could carry on with the mission. I am also intelligent enough to know that I shouldn’t be this upset about a detail going wrong.”
“I think that being upset is–”
“But what a detail! We almost die because my stupid arm didn’t want to collaborate. What’s the point of having all this if I can’t do the one thing I’m supposed to do. What’t the point of me here. You have your brain, and Hunter his senses, Wrecker his strength and determination, and I think Crosshair could kill some droids with just a nasty comment. Me? I am different now, sure, I wasn’t average before, but I am not special enough to be special, not normal enough to be normal. Not even–”
“Echo!”
Tech’s hand clutched his forearm, and Echo didn’t know what surprised him more, the shout of his name or the physical contact. His breath was laboured, and his hand gripped tightly his own knee. He couldn’t feel it, it was still weird.
He took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. Tech didn’t remove his hand, waiting. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“I know.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I know that, too.”
Echo chuckled. “Is there something you don’t know?”
“Some. For example, I don’t know why you still think you are not good enough.” Tech removed his hand but kept facing him. “You have proved your skills numerous times.”
He knew that to be true, he really did. Tech was seldom wrong, as he often remarked, and besides that, objectively, he knew he was right as well. But still.
“Not to mention, the value of a man goes beyond their skills set. I am aware that this is a war and our capabilities determine the role we play in it, but I believe you are mixing up your value as a soldier and your value as a person.”
Echo felt his eyes go wide, a tremor through his spine as Tech’s words unlocked a pain inside his chest he didn’t know he had.
“I don’t think I’ve ever known how to differentiate those two things. Now it’s even harder.” He lifted his hand and tried to tousle his hair. Still weird. He focused pointedly on a spot above Tech’s left ear, took another deep breath, and let that sharp pain crawl out of his chest.
“I was prepared to die that day, from the moment I felt that blast I knew I was going to die. Don’t get me wrong, I am glad I am alive, even– Even after what I went through, I am thankful that I am alive, when so many others are not.” He sighed, looked out the window, in search of words that escaped him, but they were not among the stars. “But sometimes, I’m still in that moment. A part of me did die that day. The one that knew which one was his role in this galaxy. The one who knew where was his spot. The one that knew that he deserved it. Sometimes that blast still hits me out of nowhere, and for a moment it leaves me a bit woozy. Like coming out of a hyperspace jump without notice.”
Echo looked back at Tech, confusion painted on his face, and a small smile appeared on his face. “I’m sorry, I don’t make much sense.”
“No, no, you do. I–” Tech pursed his lips, seemingly searching for the right words. “I might not, and never would, know for what you are going through. But I know what it is, searching for your place in this galaxy. You are one of us now, Echo, and I know I don’t speak only for myself when I say that even if tomorrow none of your cybernetics work any more, you would still have a place on this ship.”
Echo smile grew. It wasn’t exactly that, but he couldn’t blame Tech, he could tell he was trying. It was close enough, though, and he appreciated the effort. He grabbed his neck and bumped his forehead against Tech’s, releasing him after it.
“What was that?” Those goggles made his eyes comically huge.
“Ah, yeah. Something I used to do with–” the name got stuck in his throat. Another time, then. “My best friend.”
Tech straighten momentarily, pushing his shoulders back and doing that massiff’s head tilt again, and Echo found himself chuckling this time.
“He saw it somewhere, used to say it was a warrior’s sign of respect. He was full of bantha shit, of course, but it was an easy way of reminding each other we were not alone, even in the middle of a battlefield.”
“He… was not exactly wrong. He wasn’t right either, mind you, but he wasn’t wrong.”
“Huh. Yeah, that sounds like him.” Echo stood up, clapped Tech’s shoulder and turned to leave the cockpit, but stopped. “Thank you, Tech,” he said without turning, and left.
Maybe none of this was supposed to happen, not this ship, not this team, not even himself, but he was here now.
He wasn’t alone.
He will be fine.
They will be fine.