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“Tech, I need your help!”
Wrecker’s pitchy yell was the first thing that greeted Tech upon arriving back at the barracks. He let out a sigh, mentally preparing himself for another impromptu crash course. “What with?”
Wrecker sat hunched on his bunk, and he held up an unmistakable floppy figure for him to see, his eyes wide and gleaming with unshed tears. “I…I broke Lula.”
Sure enough, Lula’s right arm was lopsided, bits of stuffing poking through the tear. Only then did Tech notice Crosshair loitering nearby. He was harder to read than Wrecker, but he looked decidedly uncomfortable, his arms crossed and his face set in a deeper frown than usual.
“Were you fighting?” he asked.
Wrecker hung his head with a sniffle. “Yeah…”
Crosshair said nothing, his scowl deepening when Tech caught his eye. Regret and shame, even if he did not say so aloud.
“We could take it to one of the medical droids,” Tech suggested.
“No!” Utter horror flashed across Wrecker’s face. “The longnecks might see and take her away!”
Tech frowned. His fear was not unwarranted; there was no method to predict what might incite the Kaminoan’s disapproval, but finding clones halfway through their training still clinging to a child’s toy made that possibility highly likely. “Well, I suppose I can attempt the repair. It will probably not take long given the size of the tear.”
Wrecker lit up with hope. “Really?”
“Yes. I can use the stitching methods we learned in field medicine. I just need the medkit.”
Crosshair moved wordlessly across the room to the medkit’s designated spot on the wall, taking it off and bringing it to Tech, who accepted it. He set it on the table in the middle of the room, popping it open and immediately finding what he was looking for.
“Bring Lula over here, Wrecker.”
Wrecker obeyed, bearing his beloved doll with utmost care to the table, watching as Tech threaded a needle with synthetic fiber. “Uh, you done this before?”
“No,” Tech admitted, “but it should be much easier than dealing with a living subject.”
He pushed the stuffing back inside, beginning to stitch the tear. He stabbed his own fingers a couple of times, his movements hesitant and unpracticed as he relied solely on observation. Everything came together regardless; the stitching was crooked, but the thread was dark, rendering it almost invisible against Lula’s fabric.
“There,” Tech declared as he finished, cutting away the excess thread. “I think that should suffice.”
Wrecker leaned over the table to observe his work, his face breaking into a huge smile. Tech braced himself, but the air was still crushed from his lungs as he was caught in a spine-cracking hug. “Thank you! You’re amazing!”
“You’re…welcome,” Tech wheezed.
Wrecker let him go, briefly becoming serious. “Uh, you won’t tell Hunter about this, right?”
Tech glanced at Crosshair, who looked aloof, but the fact he had hovered so closely spoke to his concern over the situation despite his part in causing it. For all his grouchiness, Lula had found her way into his bunk more than once. “I suppose I won’t, if you won’t either.”
Wrecker grinned, holding Lula close. “Deal.”
“Ow—kriffing—you’re doing that on purpose.”
“Believe me,” Tech gritted around the pouch strap dangling from his mouth, “I would not intentionally make this harder than you’re already making it.”
The hum of the Marauder’s systems was almost drowned out by the tremendous snoring from the cabin, Hunter and Wrecker splayed on the bunks. However, their noise could not overpower Crosshair’s many complaints, as much as Tech wished it.
“You’re the one making this hard,” Crosshair muttered, seated on a spare munitions crate. “I could do this myself.”
Tech drew the needle through the laceration’s edges, running shallow but long across Crosshair’s ribcage and back. “I doubt it.”
Crosshair scoffed. “Bacta’s already in there. This is overkill.”
“If you could see it, you might agree with me.” Tech grabbed his shoulder when he twitched again. “I’d rather be safe. I did not learn this skill just to stitch up Lula and fix clothes.”
Crosshair snarled something but sat still. Each pull of the thread cinched the wound tighter, and as the angry red disappeared so did Tech’s worry. Maybe it was overkill, but the assurance that he was doing all he could eased his mind.
“Done,” he finally announced, pulling scissors from the pouch and cutting away the spare thread. “That should keep you until we make it back to Kamino.”
“Finally.” Crosshair raised his arm to look at the stitches, only to be met by a hard slap to the elbow. “Kriff, what was that for?”
Tech took the pouch strap from his mouth, setting his tools aside. “You’re going to pull the stitches. Don’t undo what I just did.”
Crosshair narrowed his eyes. “You just wanted payback for me shooting the caf out of your hand.”
“Well, now that you mention it…”
Crosshair used his discarded shirt as a weapon, smacking Tech across the chest with it before he could get away. “You’re the worst medic, I swear.”
“Oh, really?” Tech replied, unbothered by his attempt at retaliation. “Then I suppose you would rather contend with medical droids.”
Crosshair let out a disgusted growl, aiming a withering look in his direction. When Tech started packing up the medkit, he said, “Wait.”
Tech paused. “What?”
Crosshair tossed him a familiar scrap of red cloth. “Hunter messed it up trying to help me.”
Tech inspected the bandana, now noticeably torn in a couple of spots. Already envisioning a course of repair, he began fishing for the spool of thread and a new needle, only to stop when a thought struck him. “Why don’t you do it?”
Crosshair looked affronted. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” Tech could not hide a smirk. “You said you could repair your own wounds, so why don’t you put those skills to use?”
“You’re better at it than me.”
“Try it.” Tech threw the bandana back. “Someone fixed the burn hole in my blacks, and it wasn’t me.”
Crosshair leered. “Parasitic bloodfly.”
“Your return to your usual insults bodes well for your recovery.” Tech passed him the spool of thread. “Grell screamer.”
Back and forth, back and forth. Tech ached, his body stinging in various places with freshly applied bacta, but nervous energy compelled him to move, sending him pacing back and forth outside the medbay of the cruiser. His hands fiddled with the many straps of his utility belt, desperate for something to occupy them and dispel the phantoms of warm, wet blood. Even though he had scrubbed himself clean, he could still feel it between his fingers, oozing from the ruin of Wrecker’s face as he tried to stop the bleeding.
The erratic cadence of Wrecker’s heartbeat still echoed in his ears as he feared each beat would be the last, but somehow his brother had clung to life. His left eye was all but gone, his skull fractured by the blast from a Separatist shell, taken as he pushed Crosshair out of the line of fire. If it were anyone else, they would have died instantly.
But still Tech paced, for Wrecker’s life was no longer in his hands, leaving him feeling helpless. There were so many variables, so many things to account for that could snuff him out in such a fragile state. Infections, internal bleeding, necrosis—
The door hissed, stopping Tech in mind and body. Hunter walked out, looking utterly exhausted, his body littered with bandages and bacta patches. Their eyes met, and Tech knew right away that Wrecker was still alive.
“He’s stabilized for now,” Hunter murmured, drawing a hand across his eyes. “His eye can’t be saved, but he’ll live.”
Tech let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “And Crosshair?”
“Concussed, but the medics say he’ll be fine. They’ll do full scans back on Kamino.”
Tech nodded, ready to begin the waiting process again. As Hunter moved to sit down, Tech caught a gleam of wetness at his brother’s temple, hidden beneath the hair and bandana. “Hunter, your head…”
Hunter stopped, taking a moment to feel out the spot, wincing when his fingers brushed it. “Ah. They were so busy with Wrecker that they must have missed it.”
Tech reached for his medical pouch, zeroing in on the area. It was a cut, not terribly deep. Two stitches would do it, maybe four at most. “I can take care of it quickly. Just give me a moment…”
Hunter shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a scratch.”
Tech’s hand closed around the case that housed the needles and thread. “That could get infected.”
“Tech—”
“Hunter.” Tech spoke sharper than he had intended, and Hunter’s brow furrowed. He forced himself to breathe, the case creaking in his grip. “Let me do this, please.” His voice wavered on the last word, a culmination of emotion from the past several hours that dismayed him.
“Alright.” Hunter looked at him, and there was understanding in his gaze. “We’ll get through this.”
Tech took up his needle and thread, letting out a shaky sigh. He could not help Wrecker, but this was the next best thing.
It was quiet, a rare experience, especially now that the Marauder was their home. Tech was so used to noise and chaos that it was almost uncomfortable, but once he adjusted it was welcome, especially as he engaged in another hunt to discern what was rattling on the ship.
The Ansion sun shone warmly across the grasslands around the Marauder, the worst of the heat chased off by a stiff breeze. To the east, the tallest buildings of a nearby town jutted above a hill, where Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo were searching for cheap supplies. Omega stayed behind, which not the choice Tech anticipated given her curious nature, and she had been quiet. The only assurance he had of her presence was the tip-tap of small feet muted beyond the Marauder’s hull, and he paid them no attention as he discovered a loosened rivet on one of the landing gears.
However, such peace and quiet in such an idyllic area came with an outcome that Tech could always count on: sudden disruption. He was unsurprised when something clattered abrasively inside the ship, straightening from his work with a soft sigh.
“Gonky!” he called, starting with the likely culprit. “What did you do?”
An indignant reply came, laced with a surprising amount of sarcasm as Gonky insisted his innocence. Tech refrained from firing back with something equally acrid as his mind settled on the only other occupant. “Omega?”
Silence greeted his call. If it had been any of his brothers, he would have ignored the noise in the first place and complain later once he figured out what happened. However, his conscience would not allow him to do so with Omega; she was new to the Marauder, and children were accident-prone.
“Omega, are you alright?” he said, raising his voice a little.
More silence. Wiping his hands on the rag he carried, he headed for the hatch, hearing the distinct pitter patter of Omega’s feet. Entering the ship, he found Omega picking up several spare parts that had once occupied the top of the nav console along with the medkit, which now sat open on the floor.
“What happened?” Tech asked, quickly scanning her for injury. “Are you hurt?”
Omega froze, turning wide eyes on him. She opened her mouth but did not answer, looking like a prey animal caught beneath a predator’s claws.
“Omega, are you injured?” Tech knew that look, and he did not like it. It was fear, panic even, though he could see no cause for such feelings.
Finally, Omega replied, barely a breath. “I’m fine.”
Tech frowned. “Then what is the medkit for?”
She looked at the floor, her grip on the parts tightening, and she spoke so quietly that he had to strain to hear it. “I…I ripped Lula.”
Tech then noticed the toy sitting on the console, a sight he was so accustomed to that he had overlooked it. That was why she had not gone outside to enjoy the weather, nor accompanied the others into town. His relief at a simple problem swiftly transformed into horror as Omega’s face crumpled and she shrank away from him, a sob escaping her.
“I’m so sorry!”
“…What?” A better response was stymied by confusion as Omega dissolved into tears in front of him. He had done everything right; he had not presented himself as any sort of threat, nor had he spoken to her harshly. Confusion became panic as she continued to cry, hunching in on herself, but more words stuttered between the sobs.
“Please, don’t take her away!”
Clarity washed over Tech in a calming wave. He knew this. It was the remnants of Kamino, the fear of treasured belongings being confiscated, though it hurt deeply that she expected him to enact the same cruelties.
He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts into logical order. She did not know any better, and he could help her as he tried to recall what someone like General Ti would have done in a similar situation.
“Omega.” He called her name as gently as possible, but she did not seem to hear. He stepped closer, emulating what he had observed from General Ti, getting down on his knees to put himself at her level. Carefully, he took the spare parts from her hands, setting them aside. “Omega, I am not mad at you.”
That got her attention, puffy, red-rimmed eyes turning on him as she hiccuped, “You’re…not?”
“No.” Tech ached as he looked over her tearstained face. “Take some deep, slow breaths.”
Omega obeyed, though she was still quaking with sobs.
“Do you know how many times Wrecker has ripped Lula?” Tech asked as she began to calm.
“N-no,” Omega sniffled.
“At least eight, and those are the ones I repaired.” Tech stretched a little to retrieve Lula, inspecting the doll. There was a new small tear in the fabric, minor compared to the worst wounds Lula had endured. He pointed to the most obvious, crooked line of stitches. “Do you see that?”
Omega wiped at her eyes to clear them. “Yeah.”
“That was my first repair when we were cadets. I promise you, this…” He indicated the new tear, “…can be fixed in a matter of minutes. Does that make you feel better?”
To his relief, Omega nodded, her hiccups lessening. She started to use her sleeves to clean her face, but he stopped her, grabbing some spare cleaning cloth from the medkit and handing it over.
“I would never take something so important away,” he murmured as she cleaned herself up. “I understand the value of such things where the Kaminoans did not.”
“I’m sorry,” Omega mumbled, now seeming more embarrassed than frightened. “I was afraid…”
“I understand.” Tech wished he could ease the frightened quivering of her frame, his hands twitching with the desire to do something, though he was not sure what gesture if any would be warranted. “Were you going to stitch the tear yourself?”
Omega nodded. “That’s why I wanted the medkit.”
“Have you done something like this before?”
“Yeah, but not with fabric. Only on injured troopers.”
“I see.” That implication set an uneasy edge in Tech’s mind, but to press her about it now in her already upset state would do more harm than good. “I can fix Lula, and you can observe. If it happens again in the future, which is likely, you will be prepared.”
The troubled lines on Omega’s face relaxed, and the uncomfortable knot in his chest loosened in return. “Really?”
“Yes. It will be simple compared to my work outside.” She turned back to the medkit expectantly, but he intervened. “Actually, the materials in there are dissolving sutures that will degrade far faster than normal fiber, but I do carry standard thread.”
“Oh.” Omega’s disposition became more curious as she focused on him pulling the thread from one of his pouches. He continued explaining, hoping to do away with the last of her tears.
“On Kamino, I had a special spool that I chose specifically for Lula to blend with the color. Unfortunately, it was left behind, but this will do just as well.” He held up the thread for her to see as he seated himself on the nearest bunk, and she scrambled up beside him without hesitation. “Would you hold Lula while I thread the needle?”
Omega took Lula like she was holding a priceless artifact, and it took a concentrated effort for Tech to keep his amusement internal. He threaded the needle with little issue, then took Lula back. “If this were a piece of clothing, I would start from the underside, so as to keep the stitches from showing too much. That is not an option here, however.”
Omega hummed her acknowledgement, leaning against his arm as she watched intently, her brow furrowed with what he gathered to be interest rather than fear. He continued his commentary, explaining the necessity of careful movement to avoid ripping through the fabric, as one would also do when suturing a wound. As he anticipated, the repair took only minutes, and soon enough he was handing the beloved toy over. A slight nervousness fluttered in his chest as she studied his handiwork with wide eyes, but it vanished when she broke into a wobbly smile.
“Thank you,” she whispered, clutching Lula close.
Tech shrugged, which was perhaps a poor response. Her awestruck expression caught him off guard, but it was far better than tears. “Of course. You should drink something, since you have likely dehydrated yourself.”
“Okay.” Omega slipped from the bunk, her smile fading. “Uh, are you gonna tell the others about this?”
Tech hesitated. His first instinct was to say “yes”, but that was not what she wanted. She was like Crosshair, when he stole Lula away after a nightmare and didn’t want anyone to acknowledge it even if it was blatantly obvious. “Well, if you don’t want me to, then I suppose not.”
Omega blinked hard, her eyes full of relief, maybe even adoration as she squeezed Lula to her, and it was Tech who smiled this time.
“I have repaired almost every object on this ship at least once. You can tell me if something breaks. I will not be angry, and I could show you how to repair it yourself. Does that sound agreeable?”
She nodded, her smile returning.
Tech stood up. “Now, would you like to help me finish my other repairs?”
“Yes!” Omega ran to get her drink of water, but not before carefully depositing Lula safely on her bed.
“If you don’t keep still, I will eject you into hyperspace.”
“Yeah, let’s see if you can keep still when I’m the one prodding your open wound.”
Tech ignored the reply as he finished applying bacta to the vibroblade cut on Echo’s intact arm, putting the tube away. “This will need sutures. Will you need a painkiller?”
“No, just get it over with,” Echo said.
“Then sit still,” Tech insisted. The cut stood out terribly against Echo’s skin, digging into his awareness with an edge as sharp as the vibroblade that formed it, and he would be glad to seal it away. He quickly prepared the sutures, beginning the sewing process as Echo managed to keep still for the most part, and got about a third of the way through before he heard the clangor that heralded the arrival of the rest of the team.
Small footsteps came racing up behind Tech, followed by Omega’s worried question. “Echo, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m alright,” Echo replied, unbothered by the needle passing through his skin.
“Nice one!” Wrecker’s shadow fell across them. “I’m almost jealous.”
“You’re blocking my light,” Tech fussed.
“Oh, right.” Wrecker moved away, but a smaller figure appeared to replace him, less obtrusive but no less distracting.
Tech almost snapped something about having something better to do, but restrained himself at the last second as he remembered who it was. Omega was not familiar with how he liked to do his work, and he had to watch how he spoke. What his brothers would easily shrug off as a mildly annoyed request to let him work might not seem so to a younger, more impressionable heart. A quick glance to the side confirmed what he suspected: Omega was watching him work, her face fraught with a deep frown, her hands twisting in her sleeves. If nothing else, he knew that feeling of concerned observation, and how best to remedy it.
“Omega,” he said.
She jumped at her name, giving him a startled look. “…Yeah?”
“If it won’t bother you, would you mind helping me?”
As he hoped, Omega eagerly nodded. “What can I do?”
“Keep Echo’s arm still.”
“I’m not that bad,” Echo complained halfheartedly, and he caught Tech’s eye with a small nod. It wasn’t for their benefit as much as hers.
Omega went around to Echo’s other side, her small hands settling on his bicep. She continued to observe the stitching process closely, though the sight of blood did not seem to bother her whatsoever.
“Doesn’t it hurt, Echo?” she asked in a whisper.
Echo smiled reassuringly. “Trust me, I’ve had worse. Tech’s bedside manner is the real pain here—ow!”
Tech finished drawing the needle through quickly. “You were saying?”
Echo glared. “I’ll get you back for that.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Omega’s face quavered, like she wanted to smile but could not decide if she should. Tech considered that another victory on top of successfully completing the stitches.
“Well done,” he said, pressing a bandage over the area. “I appreciate your help.”
Omega released Echo’s arm. “So he’ll be fine?”
“He will, providing he does not ruin my handiwork.”
“Relax.” Echo ruffled Omega’s hair. “She’s the real medic here, anyway.”
Omega let out a scoff followed by a little laugh, and Tech was willing to let such a false statement go, just this once.
The blotch of red was growing steadily more pronounced on Omega’s pants leg, and the bigger it got the more it dominated Tech’s mind despite her insistence that she had already taken care of it herself. He did not doubt her medical capabilities after receiving direct training from a Kaminoan scientist, but sometimes an outside hand was necessary, and finally he was compelled to speak.
“Omega, your leg is still bleeding.”
She looked down at her pants, like she had only just noticed. “Oh, I guess so.”
Tech was already seeking out the medkit as he said, “Tell me again what happened.”
“Echo was showing me some tactical maneuvers, and I fell…on a sharp rock.”
Tech sighed, making a mental note to speak to Echo about his choice of training grounds. “And this was two standard hours ago?”
“Yeah, about.”
“Did you clean it and put bacta on it?”
“I did everything you’re supposed to. The bandage got loose, though.” Omega adjusted the bandage beneath her pants with a small frown.
“I would like to take a look at it nonetheless,” Tech said, eyeing the red stain.
“Fine,” Omega murmured in a tone that he had come to understand meant she rather wouldn’t. He ignored it as she hopped onto a bunk, rolling her pant leg up to reveal a sizable swath of bandages stained with red below her knee. He set the medkit on the floor, and as he undid the bandages, he realized the true length of the wound. A thin, deep gash ran horizontally across her leg below the knee, still in the process of scabbing over.
Tech reached for the painkillers immediately. “This would benefit from some sutures. Infection is something we are ill-equipped to deal with at the moment.”
There was a long silence, then a whisper. “Sutures…with a needle?”
Tech found the painkillers and the hypo, beginning the insertion process. “We have no other method, unfortunately.”
“Please…please don’t.”
The strangled plea made Tech stop his preparations. Omega’s skin had taken on an ashen pallor, her entire body trembling as she stared at the medkit in front of him. Fearing her blood loss had been more than he had known beforehand, he grabbed her wrist, checking her pulse. “What’s the matter? Do you feel any dizziness?”
Omega shook her head, her lips wobbling a little. “No. Just please, no needles.”
Her pulse was fast but strong against Tech’s fingers, and he realized it was a fearful cadence rather than an indicator of physical distress. He relinquished his hold, his alarm muted by confusion. “I don’t understand. You have used them many times before.”
“But…you’re using it on me.” A shudder passed through her, and she drew her legs up onto the bunk, heedless of the blood that oozed from her wound with the motion.
“I see.” The hypo suddenly felt heavy in Tech’s hand. He looked over his shoulder, hoping to see one of the others returning from their errands beyond the open hatch, but he had no such luck. “You know as well as I do that this is the most effective method to prevent infection at our disposal. It may be unpleasant, but it will prevent worse complications in the long run.”
Omega shrank in on herself, seeming no less frightened. Tech glimpsed the scar on her left hand, undoubtedly only one of many, and the harrowing reality of her experiences on Kamino came back to him. Logical medical reasoning would not calm her down, not when she had already been a victim to it as an experimental unit.
He set the hypo aside, trying to piece together a different approach. His own experiences with Kaminoan experimentation were not ideal. He tapped into that line of thinking, trying to place himself into the mind of a child, unconditioned to deal with the struggles soldiers faced.
“I suppose I understand your aversion.” He rose to sit beside her, handing over a spare cloth to press against the wound. “I too have experienced painful procedures, as an experimental unit.”
Omega relaxed a bit, as though his mutual understanding brought her relief as she accepted the cloth. She glanced at him, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “What…what did they do to you?”
“There were many different procedures, some of which I remember, and some I don’t.” Tech’s fingers instinctively went to the goggles around his eyes. “But there is one that remains prominent to me. If you had not guessed already, I was not created with this…defect.”
That seemed to have the opposite of the effect he desired as Omega regarded him with horror. “I wondered, but I didn’t want to ask.”
“I would not have minded if you did. I came to terms with this a long time ago, and I never had a chance to become averse to certain procedures through our conditioning.” Tech squinted at her hands. Paler dots, barely visible, were scattered across the skin below her knuckles—intravenous scarring. “May I ask what your experiences were?”
Omega looked away from him. Her answer was delayed, stilted with emotion. “I would be hooked up for hours, or at least it felt like it. Sometimes they took blood, sometimes other things.”
“What other things?” Tech asked when she paused.
“I don’t know. I would be sedated, and when I woke up, nothing seemed to change.” Omega gave a shaky shrug. “Nala Se said I was helping the cloning program.”
Tech found no clarity, several grim possibilities surfacing in his mind, so he reverted to the task at hand. “Your fear is more than justified, but I hope you know I would not do anything to hurt you.”
“I know.” Her eyes flashed with slight indignation at the suggestion, but it vanished as soon as she looked at the waiting medkit.
“It is for your good, not the Kaminoan’s. You understand that it would be risky to leave this wound as it is.”
Omega nodded, though she still looked to be on the verge of tears. Tech found his unfavorable view of the Kaminoans was rapidly becoming even more so.
“I can apply a numbing spray that will require no injection,” he tried. “The procedure itself will only take a few minutes, but if for any reason, you need me to stop, I will.”
Omega stared at him like he had spoken in another language. “You will?”
“Certainly. If not, then try to punch me.”
Her eyes bugged. “What?”
“That is how the others typically express their disapproval or desire for me to stop.”
Omega let out a strangled laugh, seeming to be caught between fear and amusement. “I dunno if I could. That seems mean.”
“I thought I would offer it nonetheless, but I will stop if you ask it of me.”
“Promise?”
Something about her countenance, fearful yet trusting, made Tech’s chest cinch like it had been laced with uncomfortably tight stitches. “Yes, I promise.”
Omega let him apply the numbing spray, shifting to lie down at his instruction. As the numbness began to take effect and he tested it, her nervousness returned, evidenced in the tensing of her posture though she strove to hide it.
“You do not have to watch,” he said as her eyes drifted to the needle and thread in his hand, “or even keep your eyes open, for that matter.”
Omega immediately threw an arm over her eyes, her mouth downturned in a frown. “Thank you.”
Tech threaded the needle, feeling an unusual amount of apprehension in his desire to keep her distress at bay. “Why don’t you tell me about what you and Wrecker did yesterday?”
“O-kay.” Her breath hitched as she felt the pressure of him beginning, but she stayed very still. “He showed me how I could disable a Separatist mine, even though they don’t exist anymore.”
“And how did that go?” he pressed, urging the distraction.
“Uh, I killed us three times ‘cause he said I wasn’t fast enough. Nothing happened, though, he just shouted really loud.”
“I see.” Tech smiled to himself, well aware of Wrecker’s approach to disarming exercises. “Did he tell you how you could disable the detonation device itself rather than the activator?”
“No!” Omega’s head turned toward him, though she kept her eyes covered. “You can do that?”
“Yes, though it is not as straightforward as the activator.” The thread began closing the gash in Omega’s skin, sealing Tech’s unease with it. “You need to find the direct trigger mechanism, which can be difficult, since such devices are usually rigged to detonate with tampering.”
“How?”
“I believe on Separatist devices, it is denoted with a small yellow marking on the wire.”
“Yellow…” she echoed.
“The next time Wrecker teaches you, you should show him. I think he would be surprised at your knowledge.”
“Maybe I won’t kill us.”
“Believe me, Wrecker has ‘blown himself up’ more times than he will ever admit. Remind him of that if he ever becomes too insufferable.”
“I will.” Omega giggled. “He said he was too good to mess up.”
“He is lying, I assure you. Everyone is prone to mistakes.”
“Even you?”
“I have the rare lapse, yes.”
“…Could you mess up the stitches?”
“No, since I already finished them.”
“What?” Omega shot upright, staring at the neat line of stitches Tech was wiping clean. “You’re done?”
“I am.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“That would interrupt a conversation you were clearly enjoying.” Tech ignored her huff, satisfied with his work. “I assume you did not experience any discomfort.”
“No.” Omega studied the stitchwork closely as he bandaged it. “Is that it?”
“That’s it.” Tech felt a great sense of relief as he set the supplies aside, cleaning his hands.
Omega regarded him with wide eyes. “Nothing else?”
“You will need to be careful for a few days until the skin begins to heal, but other than that, the procedure is done with.”
“That didn’t hurt at all,” she whispered in disbelief.
Tech puffed up a little. “As I predicted.”
Omega slowly slung her legs over the edge of the bunk, her frown returning. “I…I guess that wasn’t so bad. I’m sorry for getting so scared. I…”
Tech placed a hand on her hair, an almost unthinking gesture, and as her rambling trailed off he spoke into the silence. “You were just fine, sweet one. I’m glad I could help you, and that’s all that matters.”
She smiled at him without fear, and that was rewarding in itself. “Thank you, Tech.”
The needle and thread found their way into the shadow’s medkit. He could not say why; they were not standard issue for his equipment, but something had compelled him to requisition them from the infirmary within Tantiss.
He was bleeding from his leg as he stumbled back to his ship. The Trandoshan woman had not been without her tricks, managing to land a blow before he had overpowered her. A single glance was enough to convince him stitches would be prudent, and upon removing his armor, he became even more assured of that. He could bandage it well enough, but he had the means to close the wound, a desire he could not shake. More fragments, pieces of a pattern he did not know, hanging just beyond the threshold of his understanding.
The needle felt comfortable in his hand, the threading requiring little focus, but as the point pricked his flesh, he was struck with a sense of wrongness. Phantoms of past actions he did not remember performing rose in his mind like the fleeting whorls of hyperspace. Repairing wounds, repairing fabric, smiles and sneers, half-formed faces speaking whispered words. The needle belonged in his hand, but not when it was repairing his own flesh. That was someone else’s job.
Who?
A face appeared in his mind’s eye, vivid, for he had only recently encountered it. Silver-haired, scowling, emblazoned with a tattoo across his right eye. The traitor, but…
“Sit down.”
He tried to ignore the command as much as the pain in his abdomen, staring at the dashboard in front of him. “In a minute.”
“For kriff’s sake…”
He was hauled back into a chair. The traitor—CT-9904—stood over him, but his face was not twisted in anger. There was something else, something gentler.
“Hunter can take care of it.” CT-9904 held a needle and thread. “You need to stop for a minute.”
He shook his head, trying to get up, but CT-9904 pushed him back. “I can stop once—”
“You’re stopping now.” A fist knocked against his head, just soft enough to not hurt. “You’re worse than a kriffing fleek eel.”
“I beg to differ.”
“You can’t. Sit still so I can patch you up.” The needle hovered over his abdomen, pushing in with a caution that belied CT-9904’s rough words.
“I could do that myself…” And yet he was grateful, weariness settling over him.
“You could, but you don’t need to, as usual.” CT-9904 glanced up at him, his dour expression tilting into something almost amused. “For such a big mind, you’re really stupid sometimes.”
The needle hung suspended in the shadow’s hand, the thread halfway through the wound. The memory fled almost as quick as it came, falling into obscurity even as he tried to keep it close. Even so, he knew now why it felt wrong, why the needle did not belong in his hand; when it was he who needed tending, it belonged to someone else.
But there was no one else on the ship. He was alone, and CT-9904 was a traitor, but he no longer felt anger at that consideration. Instead, he ached, as though his heart bore a wound of equal measure, one that could not be mended with sutures.
He finished the procedure. He cut the thread, cleaned the area, and bandaged it. It was simple and free of complications, yet he felt he had cut himself wide open, bleeding from somewhere his mind could not grasp. It set him on edge with an unease he knew but could not do away with, for he could not heal it by his own hand. Someone else would have to do it.
Maybe even a traitor.