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It was night but nobody cared. On Tantiss, the planet’s rotations merely guided the next scheduled item - perhaps food, but more often one of the medical procedures that occurred on a regular basis, day in, day out, over and over until Crosshair had lost track of anything outside.
But then what did he have left outside? He’d betrayed the Empire, albeit with no regrets, and there was no place for him there. In truth, there was no place for him anywhere. Clone Force 99 was long gone with barely a look back. Cody was reportedly AWOL but could be anywhere, Crosshair had long ignored the official statement as being truthful. He’d had a flicker of hope with Mayday, a whispered ‘what if’ between them that had genuinely felt as though it might be possible, but that hope had died alongside his friend.
Perhaps if he’d turned on the Empire before, if they’d not gone through with the assignment…
Coulda, woulda, shoulda, as Wrecker would have said. And there was no guarantee it would have even worked, either. Dead was dead, regardless of whether it was by an officer's weapon or snowy avalanche.
No doubt he had been clutching at straws anyway. Mayday had been friendly, welcoming when other regs shied away from him, but just because he was disgruntled with the system and wasn’t swearing at him didn’t mean that he would up and leave the Empire with him. Just another example of how weak he’d been getting, those memories whispering to him as Crosshair had stared into those soft brown eyes that reminded him of Wrecker, or that confident tone of Tech, or the slightly dishevelled growled edge of Hunter.
Reminded him of other things from the past as well, including those little comforting touches from all of them that had once been a part of his day to day life when words were optional. When they all knew they had each other’s back without needing to think, or played their intimate games in the privacy of their quarters. He’d tasted their lips and bodies as he savoured their unique flavours, and they had done the same back to him.
And those games.. Crosshair sighed in longing. Tech had put their willing trust to the test over and over again as he explored their sexualities and how far each would go, sometimes surprising even themselves. It had been good. It had been-
Kriffing hell, what the hell was he doing? They weren’t there, he was here, and there was little anyone could do about it even if Clone Force 99 wanted to.
Which they didn’t. After all this time, to think anything else would be idiotic.
Once upon a time he’d considered escape. Once upon a time he’d look up at the battered ceiling and think of potential weaknesses to exploit, but as time went on and his body and mind began to fail him Crosshair had realised there was no hope and the only weaknesses nearby were his own.
And yet those thoughts wouldn’t shut up. Daydreams, memories of the past, every so often the flash of how something felt or a scent or a scene burning its path through his mind. But then the drugs increased and little by little his memories started to lose colour.
Part of him welcomed that. The grey. The nothingness. The escape from those what-ifs and should have beens reminding him what was out there.
For a while it was working.
And then they brought in Tech.
For a short period of time he hadn’t even realised who it was. How could he? The figure had been bound up in bandages with the distinctive scent of bacta drifting through the grates of their adjoining cells, tubes snaking out toward several machines as he healed from clearly traumatic injuries. Crosshair had tried not to listen but it was hard not to in the silence of the cells; blunt force trauma. Internal damage. Transfusions. From what he could understand, several organs had been replaced with synthetic ones during the multiple surgeries that had occurred before his arrival into the cell, and there was more than the occasional emphasis about reducing any additional risk for brain damage.
But after a few days even that new view had lost its appeal despite the fact that there were few other things to focus on. His own drugs were still strong - although he noted they’d not given him as much as they usually did - but the world was still as grey as it had ever been, and Crosshair had simply stared at the ceiling silently until the cell next to his had its first blood scan and the droid showed up.
“How are you today,” the female assistant said. “CT-9902?”
CT-9902.
Even with the words it took him a moment to fully understand what she’d said. But that wasn’t possible, couldn’t be possible. More likely they’d messed around with clone catalogue numbers that coincidentally held the same number. More likely someone else.
Anyone else.
His hand trembled but he barely noticed it as his gaze refused to move from the ceiling. No. It couldn’t be him. Not Tech. Not the brother who never took offence whenever he’d been blunter than the others could cope with. Not the brother who’d adjusted his rifle for him without asking, or had identified and produced the modified armour to stop the rifle recoil from hurting his shoulder. The brother who had always said they were a family unit first and foremost.
The one who..
He clenched his fist in a helpless attempt to stop the tremble, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling as though to look in Tech’s direction might turn the whole thing into a hallucination to torment him. He’d stared into the eyes of his torturers so many times in the past and yet right now the courage to look had defeated him. And what the hell was he hoping to see even if he looked? No matter how much bad blood flowed between him and his brothers he didn’t want to see them here, pinned down, tortured and tormented just like him. And if it was Tech, where the others? Were they also in cells further along?
Were they dead?
Nothing could stop the vibration in his hand nor the agonising build of anxiety in his core, but Crosshair forced himself to stare upward again as the steady assessment next door continued. Bloods. Scans. The low beep of machines. The soft metallic sounds as Tech - whoever - moved.
No, he’d been here before, he knew the routine. He couldn’t respond to Tech, not at all, because weaknesses would be noted and exploited, although he already knew he was fooling himself with this pretence. Anyone with half a brain would know the effect that Tech would have on him, let alone Hemlock, a man who had somehow managed to get details on the Batch’s lives and habits.
Oh, Hemlock would know exactly what would occur by putting Tech in beside him. The only question would be which specific form of manipulation the good doctor was aiming for.
And then finally the droids and assistant went and silence fell over the cells again.
Crosshair continued to stare upward, powerless to move.
He should speak. He had to speak. If this was Tech then he needed to speak, and yet language felt as alien to him as any of the scientific experiments forced upon him since his arrival. Words danced out of his grasp, and Crosshair growled in frustration as his already struggling mind failed him once again.
What, again, the hell was he planning to achieve out of this? Even if it was Tech, they didn’t exactly part on the best of terms and it wasn’t as though they were going to be hugging through the damned metal mesh that formed the barrier between them. Hemlock might already suspect any residual bonds that were left, but Crosshair would be an idiot to show that he still cared for him, even with the slim chance that Tech cared for him back.
Tech used to, back in the day, even if it was in his own style. The others had had their own methods of showing care - Hunter protectively keeping an eye out for him and Wrecker added the casual physical comfort through touch and hug - but Tech had allowed Crosshair to be himself, including his mistakes and all the rough elements that still made him him, occasionally criticising his actions but never him, and helped him explore himself whenever the others held back. They understood each other.
Tech wouldn’t thank him for increasing their danger.
So it was a mystery to him when a short time later Crosshair found himself pushing up from the bunk, his feet finding the smooth ground before hesitantly approaching the grate. This was such a bad idea but they were here now, and his fingers curled through the cool metal of the grate as Crosshair stared at the other bunk uncertainly.
Was the other man asleep, out cold or whatever? He hadn’t moved. The soft beeps from the now disconnected machines had confirmed his life, but the craving to go over there and physically check was so damned strong that it took him a while to control himself.
“Hey,” Crosshair said finally, a soft whisper that he hoped travelled. “You okay?”
Silence. Enough silence for a moment he thought that the machines were all a lie and that they’d brought him a dead body as a new way to torment him, but just as his heart was screaming at himself for daring to hope one hand carefully braced itself on the edge of the bed as the clone slowly pushed himself up and turned to face him.
Was that him? Was this real? Was any of it real, or was this a new way they’d found to break him? A cold wash swept through his body as a familiar - and yet unfamiliar - face looked back at him with that neutral calm expression that had often flashed into his dreams and thoughts. No goggles balanced on his nose nor datapad in his hand, but he’d know those eyes anywhere.
Tech.
But why wasn’t he moving? Why wasn’t he saying anything? How could this be real if Tech wasn’t commenting about anything, that was what he did, and the disconcerting suspicion that this was all just an hallucination gripped him harder.
It couldn’t be Tech. Tech was with the others, they’d been told to hide, he told them to hide, why would he be here?!
A wave of so many emotions crashed through him like a flood down an unprepared valley and, just like a building, he felt torn apart under its power.
Please. Let it be a hallucination. Don’t be him. Let this all be just some crazy thing brought on by drugs or madness or loneliness. Please-
“Crosshair,”
Apparently his prayers weren’t planning to be answered. The breath fled his chest like he’d suffered a physical blow as his name was said in that almost disinterested way that Tech always had, a statement of how the world was rather than any personal desire. But those eyes that had once looked down at him proudly as they played together were blank, and Crosshair’s heart suffered another jolting leap in the cage of his chest as he tried to recover.
It was him. His body, his voice, everything, and yet it wasn’t.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Crosshair found himself saying, and then again, with building passion and anger because what the hell were they doing if they’d been caught, was everything he’d done for nothing if the Batch hadn’t got away? “You’re not supposed to be here!”
At least one thing hadn’t changed as, like always, the words and his outburst did nothing to Tech. Instead there was the smallest of sad smiles as though the anger outburst was happening elsewhere, indifferent to Crosshair’s shock.
“Technically, I was.” His voice was him but it was stiff and unsteady as though relearning how to speak. “However, the original plan was for me to be on the other side of the bars.”
As he spoke he was slowly pushing himself from the bed like an undead antagonist in one of Wrecker’s ghost stories before cautiously navigating his way closer on feet that were no longer steady. Not that Crosshair was truly paying attention, the sentence replaying again and again in his head with increasing agony.
“You were coming here?” He didn’t believe it. Why would they do something like that? But of course, and his mind grasped the blatantly obvious and irritating answer as he spoke it dully. “The kid was captured.”
“As far as I know and hope, Omega is still away from this facility.” Tech reached the mesh, fingers slipping through the holes and bending to lock him in place as they stared at each other, and the urge to hide away was so damned great that Crosshair could barely keep eye contact. “No. We found your message. If you had truly fought against the Empire as it implied then we were looking to recover you.”
Not possible. Not even remotely possible and yet the words kept swirling around and around his head.
They were coming to help him?
We don’t leave our own behind.
His hand slowly curled into a fist, trembling against his thigh. His hand, his good shooting hand, the hand that the Empire had spent so much time perfecting. The hand that had once made him worthwhile.
“I told you to stay away.” Anger laced his tones but there was no hiding the way his voice shook. “You weren’t supposed to come!”
“Negative. You are our brother, Crosshair.” Tech’s head tilted slightly, voicing dipping a little lower. “We had to try.”
As though it was obvious rather than the hideous decision it so clearly was, and yet for a moment his memory latched onto those familiar brown eyes during different times when they were safe and warm in bed. Tech had used that same voice then, too. No requests, simply a statement about what was going to happen, and as Crosshair stared across at him helplessly he could see that was exactly what Tech was after.
It wouldn’t work here, of course. Things had changed.
Did Tech know what was coming? Thoughts of trying to warn him what lay ahead invaded his mind, but what good would that do? Tech would know already, hell, probably understand what the scientists were after better than the scientists themselves. And to think he’d been concerned over his own hide. This was so much worse, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“You shouldn’t have come.” Crosshair’s fist clenched again helplessly, his voice bitter and defeated. “I can’t be saved.”
For more than one reason, too. He’d done so many things thinking it was the best thing to do - not the right thing sometimes, but then there were few fights that didn’t have a grey spot somewhere in it - and yet in the dark and the silence those memories had replayed over and over to chip away at his composure and whisper whether Hunter had made the right choice to leave him after all.
“Incorrect,” Tech replied briskly, and there was some strange comfort in those words that were said for neither soothing nor persuasion but a simple statement of fact. “But I recognise this is not the time to discuss it.”
The silence stated the impasse but he already knew there would be no resolution. He could see the marks on Tech’s face from whatever incident had befallen him, the jagged marks of healing scars and skin discolouration that gave him a ghostly appearance. He looked strong and yet weak at the same time, his back straight and his head held high but his limbs not quite right and the angle of his feet suggesting balance was mostly a mirage borne through stubborn determination.
The urge to touch him was almost overpowering, and yet that was as much a fantasy as getting out the damned place in one piece. Not that his imagination cared about that. In his touch starved mind’s eye, he could almost sense his fingertips across Tech’s cheekbone, or feel Tech’s hand rest on his shoulder and the same tickling shiver down his spine that occurred whenever Tech whispered erotic insanity into his ear. Just for a moment - just for a moment - he could imagine simply focusing on an aspect that didn’t lead to pain and suffering, and his fingers curled longingly before he pulled himself together.
Idiot. Idiot. This was exactly what Hemlock would want. Surely the cells would be monitored for any information they could glean from such a ‘joyful’ reunion and no doubt the whereabouts of the kid, Crosshair suspected. But where were the rest of his brothers? Were they dead? Had they escaped? How could Hemlock possibly get one of them without the others viciously moving in to destroy him? He couldn’t tell anything from Tech’s expression, and despite the desperate need to ask, the words refused to come as though he might be able to hide away from reality if he never spoke of it.
“What happened to your goggles?” Crosshair asked finally, fixing on the one obvious thing unlikely to bite back. Tech looked naked without them, his face bare and vulnerable, and another shiver ran through him as he tried not to focus on the strangeness.
“Uncertain. I did not have them when I woke, and I would assume that some part of them survived the fall.” Tech hesitated. “However, my eyesight appears to have been modified alongside their other enhancements. It is possible that they were simply surplus to requirements and disposed accordingly.”
None of those words made him feel any better. The fall. What fall? When? How?! Why weren’t his brothers there to catch him? He needed to know, his mind was screaming to know, but he wouldn’t be the only one in the facility who would want to hear about that too so he forced it down.
Stick to what the scientists would know already, the boring things that wouldn’t enhance their intel. “What other enhancements?”
“From my initial assessments, several internal organs have been replaced and both my circulatory and respiratory systems supported. Why they were so eager for me to live I couldn’t say,” Tech replied. “My calculations suggested that death was the most obvious outcome, but I was able to lessen the impact through use of the falling debris. Not by much, but obviously in situations such as these even the smallest variable will often mean the difference between viable and non-viable life.”
Viable and non-viable life. As though he was merely discussing the time of day, and Crosshair stared at him a little longer as though that might in some way help.
He could guess why they wanted Tech, of course. Same reason they’d kept him around despite their brainwashing failing to take a hold and his very firm desire to be a stubborn pain in the ass to them as much as possible. They were deviations to the standard clone pattern. Regs were all very well at the start but the Batch gave Science new abilities to work with, and he could only imagine what devastation could be caused with the ‘operatives’ combined with Tech’s mind and strategy.
Oh yes, the path was clear and it was full of blood.
“I understand they have been using you as a test subject,”
Apparently he hadn’t been the only one assessing the other person, and he was snapped out of his daze quickly enough to witness the small thoughtful look that Tech was giving his weakened body. Flattening his hand to his thigh, Crosshair prayed it was enough to stop the tremble. It was bad enough they were both in there, let alone Tech thinking about him.
“Not exactly-,”
He didn’t bother to press on with that lie as mild disapproval radiated through the mesh.
“Have you really forgotten who you’re talking to?”
No. Sometimes he wished he had. Sometimes he wished that they’d just wiped his memory and let him be some blank slate that could think of nothing but the present, because having Tech directly in front of him was as much torture as the needles sinking into his skin or the electricity that crackled agonisingly through his body. Crosshair swallowed but that familiar and appealing authoritative tone had guaranteed its difficulty, and a shameful flush of heat began to build from a craving that had once been so familiar and yet forgotten over time.
Of course he remembered who he was talking to. And it wasn’t as though Tech was even stating anything other than the obvious either. Crosshair didn’t need a mirror to know how pale his skin was, or how much weight had dropped off him that even Hemlock’s team couldn’t put back. Besides which, this was a scientific research facility. They didn’t exactly have house guests.
“How bad?” Tech asked, and he shouldn’t be asking, he shouldn’t care, and that thought collided with others in his mind. His brother’s whole body had needed to be patched back together and there was him asking about Crosshair’s situation.
“S’okay,” he said finally. Physically he could move, after all. Mentally .. well, debatable, but then Hunter would have said he’d never been great about that aspect even before they’d split.
He couldn’t describe what happened in Tech’s expression - his eyes didn’t seem to change, or his mouth, or even his posture, and yet Crosshair could almost feel the reproach borne from an area of concern and for reasons he didn’t understand that felt a little comforting. Hadn’t felt that in a while.
Not since Mayday.
Fine. If his brother was going to insist.
“Some physical impacts. I’m coping,” Crosshair allowed. “And anyway-,”
His head snapped up as the sounds of footsteps echoed softly toward them. Couldn’t be, too early, wasn’t on their schedule and that never, ever boded well. The tremble setting up home in his bones, Crosshair turned back to Tech urgently.
“Whatever they ask for, just do it. Trust me. They’ll only do it anyway, only it’ll be worse if they have an excuse to force it.”
“I see,”
That wasn’t a yes and he desperately needed a yes. He couldn’t lose him too, not now, not after he’d just got him back, couldn’t, wouldn’t-
“Tech. Please.” He was begging, he knew he was begging, but their time was short and he couldn’t run the risk of yet another debate.
But he really didn’t like the way that Tech’s expression had closed off, that neat and prim look he took on whenever he was about to ‘technically’ someone, only this someone was going to get Tech tortured and turned into something he wasn’t.
“Tech-”
“Crosshair,” Tech said softly as the footsteps drew nearer. “Go sit down.”
Like kriff he was, but his defiance was obvious and Tech looked at him sternly.
“Go and sit down.”
That voice was like a slap to the face, an instinctual response to a tone that was never normally used outside of their past play, and the memories washed over him again of those days when the only thing the voice brought was pleasure and delight as Tech had read Crosshair’s responses like one of his damned datapad entries, knowing that voice spoke to the part of Crosshair that wanted to hear the voice of a rare certainty even when the galaxy was going insane.
Oh yeah, Tech knew what it did to him. Knew exactly what he was calling on.
The past rose and twisted as it combined with the present to produce a twisted and painful offspring.
“Logically there is nothing you can do regardless of what happens,” Tech said softly again. “And I will not repeat myself again. Go sit down.”
The defiance rose inside him, a wild animal desperate to be free, but what could he do? Unthinkingly he lifted his hand again to slowly pressed it against the grate and after a pause Tech mirrored the image from his side. And this was right, this helped. He’d never had himself down as a tactile person, no matter how much his brothers’ teased on the subject, but even this level of touch helped to make the daze real.
They stared at each other for a little longer before Crosshair reluctantly retreated to his bunk and lay down, staring up once again as the door opened to Tech’s cell. Movements and sounds and talking and he tried not to listen but he couldn’t shut it out.
It would be fine.
It would be fine.
The sound of electricity. The sound of a laugh. Something heavy falling, and Crosshair’s eyes narrowed as decisions were made and stern voices were ignored.
No. He wasn’t letting this happen.
“How pathetic.” His insolent drawl carried across to the other cell. “He can barely walk and it needs two of you?”
Guards. They were just guards, but a prickle of fear danced down his spine as the pair slowly turned to face him. Just below them Tech was on his knees, one hand resting on the floor as the other held his stomach, and the prickle of fear was rushed away as rage filled the space and his trembling hand closed into a tight fist. They can’t have hurt him too badly - Hemlock would kill them for a start - but any hurt was too much.
“What did you say, clone?”
“Is your hearing faulty too? They really did scrape the bottom of the barrel with you two, didn’t they. But of course, that’s why you’re here,” It was like they were back at Kamino and these were regs rather than guards. Regs doing what they always used to do, pick on the Batch, pick on Tech during those early days because he was light and tried not to fight back because the rules told them not to, and Crosshair’s confidence slowly grew.
They were regs, not guards, and a soft purr entered Crosshair’s voice as he folded his arms.
“Don’t think I don’t know. No one does this session out of choice, do they. The canteen’s just opened and those on shift just get the cold leftovers from the earlier sessions.” The intel might be internal and boring from eavesdropping, but intel was intel as Echo used to say, and at this time anything was better than nothing. “You’re the shift who gets all the shit job, and that says a lot about you, doesn’t it.”
Incredulous silence from the other side, before the first one gave a half snort of laughter that didn’t feel quite so happy.
“Apparently we have a comedian.”
“Perhaps you’re the two they talk about,” he continued. “The other guards when they’re on shift. The ones they say make mistakes. Can’t rely on them to do anything. Pathetic, powerless, can barely-,”
The baton slammed against the mesh hard enough for the noise to still be vibrating a few seconds later. Oh, he had their attention right enough, and behind them he could see Tech slowly pushing himself up and frowning hard at him as though that might in some way stop Crosshair’s current verbal suicide mission.
A small tired smile crept to the corner of his mouth. Oh yeah. Just like old times.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hit a nerve?” he purred. “But I might have guessed you’d be sensitive as well as ineffectual. That clone can barely stand up and you need shock-poles to keep him under control? Please. Is there a sick puppy you need help with as well?”
His words might be fishing for responses but from the growing tension he was pretty sure he had something on his hook, and for the first time in a while a little glow of confidence burned through him as he stared back at them determinedly. Tech was forgotten in their annoyance, but then getting people annoyed with him was a special skill he’d finely honed over the years.
Perfected, almost.
The hook was confirmed when the guards swapped Tech’s cell for his, and it was just as he thought it was. These weren’t scientists, here for Hemlock’s special instructions, but idiots bored with a standard thing to check, and the black eye and split lip were a small price to pay to get them steering their amusement onto him rather than Tech.
Crosshair sank further down onto the floor of the cell with his back pressed against the grate and watched as the two guards laughed their way out to the corridor. A small tired smirk before he spat some blood onto the floor beside him. Mission accomplished.
“Crosshair.”
The smile increased. Oh, he knew that warning tone very well, but for the first time in what felt like forever he was proud of something he’d done and he wasn’t planning to let that go quite yet. “Tech.”
Silence from his brother and he knew that well enough too. Tech had always struggled whenever one of them took a blow for him, although Crosshair had no idea why. Wasn’t as though his brother didn’t do the same for them, but of course Tech would and did label his own sacrifices as ‘carefully calculated’ as though they couldn’t see through that particular lie themselves.
But he liked the way Tech had replicated Crosshair’s position in his own cell, and now that they were sitting back to back Tech;s voice - hell, his breathing - was so very close. The metallic tang of blood was in his mouth again as he sucked on his lip and stared sightlessly across the room at yet another grey wall that looked the same as any other grey wall in the gloom, but if he tried really hard he could pretend they were simply sitting together on another assignment and the pressure against his back was actually Tech’s armour rather than the metal grate.
Crazy but sometimes you just had to go with it.
Tech had finally finished his deliberations. “You did not have to do that.”
“Wrong,” Crosshair drawled. “People like that want to aim it at someone. Better it being me than you.”
“I disagree.”
“Yeah, well.” A small rueful smile at that. “Better get used to it in this place.”
“I disagree with that as well,” Tech said. “We will not need to get used to it.”
His brother sounded so certain, but then Tech always did. Uncertainty belonged to those people who didn’t do their calculations, who didn’t plan ahead, who drifted along in life. Crosshair had never really had himself down as one of those people, but ultimately what else was he? He’d followed what he thought was a clear path only to find the road turning from concrete to dust track to grass to nothing at all other than a wistful hope he was still walking in the right direction. If that wasn’t a drifter then he wasn’t sure what was.
“I’ve always admired your optimism,” Crosshair said finally and truthfully.
“This is not optimism.”
He waited for something else but nothing came. Finally he huffed a laugh. “Okay, I’ll bite. What is it then?”
“Assurance. This will change.” Like all those times in their quarters when Tech had calmly - and correctly - reassured them of obvious success just before an important test, and for a moment a flicker of belief showed itself before Crosshair pushed it back down again. Now that was far too dangerous. People who thought like that rarely lived long.
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then what have you lost by hoping?” Tech adjusted his position against the grate again in the slow, easing way that spoke of stiffness.
What had he lost? Everything. But he couldn’t admit that.
“My sanity,” Crosshair said finally, then paused. “It’s been a long time.”
“But I am here now,” said Tech simply. “Is that not a change already?”
“For how long? They’ll take you away from me.” The words had escaped before he realised it, Crosshair biting down on his pained lip to stop himself from saying anything further. Tech waited patiently before speaking again, this time softer.
“This isn’t all there is, Crosshair.”
No. He couldn’t do this. Not hope. He’d tried it so often before; that he was in the right place when he’d gained rank under Rampart. Praying that his brothers would listen to him and come back to him. Mayday. Staring up at the ceiling with dreams of escape and freedom. The only thing that happened was pain and nothing to show for it, and if he was an idiot before then at least he was going to learn from his mistake.
“Mm,” he said but Tech knew his grunts, had always known his noises, and Crosshair was surprised when fingers pressed through the grate to touch his resting arm gently. It was such a tiny touch, barely more than light pressure against his wrist, and yet the sensation shot through his arm with the force of an electrical burst before dying down again to vibrate in his core.
“There’s always other options,” Tech said as Crosshair desperately tried to recover himself, his voice soft and soothing as though he was replaying from memory more than anything else. “Some may not be realistically viable. Some may have a high risk of failure. But there is always a future.”
“Like what?” Crosshair didn’t want to admit how rattled he was. He’d tried his hardest and he was still here. Options? No. “Aren’t you all still moving from place to place? Some life.”
“At some point we will decide to stop,” Tech replied simply. “There are many planets and many systems. Desert. Jungle. Perhaps by the coast somewhere. I understand the water can be very relaxing, the tidal rhythms bringing a sense of calm. I understand islands can be nice, warm and welcoming.”
Like the Batch would ever settle down anywhere. He almost huffed aloud but Tech’s fingers were still gently caressing his wrist, over and over like the waves he spoke about, and for a moment he could almost see it in his mind’s eye and hear the ocean as it crashed against the rocks.
Never had Tech as a dreamer, but for a moment he felt like he could oblige him.
“I assume there’s sand?”
“Indeed. White-gold, almost too warm in the high of the sun,” Tech continued. “Fine granules that squeeze between toes and caress over bodies, and the lightness provides the contrast to illustrate the turquoise of the waters. The nearby rock caves provide coolness in the heat of the day, plus privacy should an individual desire for it.”
Mm. Yes, he would want it. He still didn’t do well with crowds any more, and Crosshair’s trembling hand curled up tightly before flattening it on his thigh.
“Boats too, in this dream world of yours.”
“Obviously. Small fishing vessels that go out for an evening’s catch on the last tide, slowly moving with the waves where it’s occupants could watch the pleasing sunset colours as the light passes through the atmosphere.” Tech’s fingers continued to stroke him over and over again, almost building up power with each little touch. “Feasts too. There would be many types of fish and ocean produce, fresh from the sea. Fruits and seasonal vegetables of many colours and flavours, enough to feed us all many times over.”
A memory of the grey gruel slop that made up their ‘nutritional input’ flickered through his mind again. Occasionally he’d had the opportunity to try foods and drinks during shore leave but he could barely remember the last occasion when it wasn’t canteen food. What did he have last time? Some type of steak, perhaps. He’d never been the most adventurous for food.
For the first time in so long, his stomach stirred at the concept of something better than gruel.
“And then there would be the company. The island community, welcoming, warm. Offering cultural delights .. perhaps a traditional dance, or a festival of lights that sparkle across the many domiciles that the island offers. We would have a primary location, comfortable, with many rooms to allow privacy for each but one central hall where we could gather and spend time with each other.”
Company. The finger continued its gentle stroking as Crosshair’s mind floated away a little further. What activities would they choose? Perhaps something wholesome.. A craft, a repair. Perhaps the painting that Hunter had enjoyed creating in the evenings, or Tech’s latest invention, or one of Wrecker’s games that he’d found. No doubt Echo would have plenty to talk about too, one of his little debates he enjoyed.
The finger continued to stroke, and Crosshair found himself swallowing.
And then, perhaps, they could do something a little more… physical.
“Of course there would be sex,” Tech continued idly, as though he could already see into Crosshair’s conflicted mind and watch the inappropriate scenes there, and Crosshair almost jumped in guilty shock.
“I…,” For a moment he forgot how his voice worked. His hand trembled again. This was crueller than he thought Tech could be, reminding him of what he’d lost.
“You may be thinking that the others would not forgive you,” Tech said after the silence threatened to strangle them. “They would.”
“And how,” he heard himself say. “Do you know that?”
“The same way you know that it’s true. We belong together, Crosshair.” The response was spoken simply, as though the subject was nothing more taxing than a weather forecast. “You can no more resist them than they can resist you.”
This torment was cruel. It wasn’t possible, but for a moment, with that familiar smooth voice and the gentle touch on his hand, he believed it could be.
Not that he deserved it, his eyes closing painfully.
“I’ve .. well, I’ve done things.”
“It would be peculiar if you had not. We are all aware of the tasks that the Empire undertake.”
If it was anyone but Tech saying that then Crosshair would have dismissed it immediately, but Tech didn’t concern himself with that type of nicety when the truth was perfectly acceptable. He was still struggling with that concept though.
“And you’re fine with it?” Crosshair said finally, in disbelief.
“I assume that you are here because you yourself are not fine with it. Am I wrong?”
“Well… no.”
“Then the only reason to discuss is if you wish to do so.” Tech was back to his easy voice yet again, although even the finger paused as Crosshair’s torment became apparent. “You doubt me?”
“No.” But he was and he did. Forgiveness was all very well but so much harder when it was in front of them, memories and guilt blurring together. Tech might not be lying but belief wasn’t reality. There was no reason why the Batch would even consider letting Crosshair near them, let alone anything even faintly more intimate.
“I don’t believe you.” Tech replied. “Do you wish me to demonstrate?”
The conflict in his mind paused as something else just as insane replaced it. Even Tech couldn’t mean what Crosshair thought he’d just implied. It was impossible.
“... demonstrate?” He must have misheard.
Tech was patient. “Do you wish me to provide-,”
“I know what it means. I..,” It was almost impossible to imagine. “What do you mean, demonstrate? We can’t do anything here.”
He could almost feel Tech’s confusion, the little blink he always did whenever someone had said something he deemed illogical. “Why not?”
Why not. Why not?! Where to start. He didn’t even know what Tech was planning to do but their positions and their situations suggested that their options were limited. For kriff sake, he wasn’t even confident that Tech had enough strength to get himself back to his bunk, let alone do whatever ‘demonstrate’ entailed.
In the end, he picked the quickest and easiest to argue.
“We’re not even in the same room!”
“Why would that matter? Full physical contact is not required, merely consent for the act.” The happiness in his voice was the same one he used whenever he was happily providing information for whatever the horrible thing was that was bearing down on them, and Crosshair found himself at a loss once again.
Impossible. Impossible. Even if Tech wanted this, they couldn’t possibly do anything here. They were in cells, the grate barely large enough for a couple of fingers to pass through. The floor was cold and bare, the chances of cameras high, and with Tech’s recovery and his fresh bruises Crosshair wasn’t even sure they even had the energy for talking.
It was impossible, and yet annoyingly - confusingly - Tech’s belief appeared to be addictive. A slow beat of dull interest was building in Crosshair’s lower half which didn’t listen to his protests, Tech’s little gentle touches feeding it over and over again until it was almost impossible to ignore.
Crosshair sucked in a shaky breath and tried to fight it, and yet for the first time in so long his attention was no longer on the bare, cold room or the tortures that surrounded him but the soft voice behind him and the gentle touch that anchored him, over and over again.
“Do you wish to try?”
As though it was genuinely his choice to make. Of course they couldn’t do this. They’d be noticed, it would be used against them, they would be interrupted and punished, Tech couldn’t possibly want this, so many problems it made him dizzy.
“We can’t.” Crosshair said helplessly.
“If you wish for it, we can.” Tech said, a voice of reason. “And if you do not wish to do it, then we will not and we can simply talk. The decision is yours.”
How ridiculous, that fear would grip him now. His gaze couldn’t keep away from the door to his cell with the expectation that someone might burst through it at any point and yet his hand couldn’t move away from Tech’s. A choice. Ridiculous too. Choices were not his to make.
His hand trembled once again and he took a deeper breath.
“How …,” For kriff sake, get a grip! “.. how would you do it?”
“Simple.” Tech adjusted his position to give his fingers a tiny amount more to work with, his own voice growing stronger as he happily focused on the task just like he’d always used to do. “You would settle your back against the bars in a comfortable position - yes, like that. Are you able to move your hips a little closer to the grate? Good. Now you will take a deep breath, hold it for a moment, and then slowly release it. Good. Again. Slower. Slower. Good. Better. Another breath, in .. a little more. Hold. And then release. Excellent. Again.Again.”
It had been such a long time since he’d followed Tech’s instructions in any form and yet with each moment that passed it felt increasingly familiar. Confidence and calm flowed through as Tech gently praised him for following the most basic of instructions, and yet Crosshair couldn’t deny the warmth of pride slowly adding to the low boil of desire in his belly, the hairs rising at the back of his neck.
“Good boy.” Tech’s voice had gradually grown deeper and slower as he spoke, a huskier tone that was almost as rough as Hunter’s with the smallest of purrs at the end. “Keep going for me. In. Out. In. Such a good boy.”
A good boy. For breathing. Honestly. But if it was so pointless why the hell did a shiver tingle across his shoulders, or warmth begin to glow across his skin? Crosshair caught the groan before it escaped but his eyes fluttered closed and his head tipped back against the grate, offering Tech a neck he couldn’t possibly reach and yet it felt right to do so.
“You’ve always been a good boy for me, haven’t you,” Tech murmured. “Those nights when you’ve been on your knees, thighs parted and your cock eager for touch. Remember the way you reacted? Your cock leaked so generously that you barely needed lube.”
An exaggeration but not one he had any intention of disputing. Those talented fingers continued to stroke over Crosshair’s hand but now the rub had slowed, the tip of one finger caressing back and forth as though it was teasing over the sensitive head of his cock instead.
“And of course those sweet little noises you make when you’re excited,” Tech continued dreamily. “At first they’re reminiscent of a weak growl, just like Hunter likes to do, but Hunter soon progresses into soft whimpers instead. You? Your noises are exquisitely innocent, a soft squeak-plea-moan as you beg for the touch to continue.”
His finger tip slowed even further, tormentingly slow on Crosshair’s skin, and he almost made a soft squeak-plea-moan of his own. Kriff, he needed this, needed it so badly, and the heat between his legs burned harder.
“Sometimes I like to have you linger on the edge,” Tech murmured conspiratorially. “I like to see whether you might orgasm simply from the thought of what I’d do to you next. And you have such an imagination, don’t you, Crosshair? You often tell me your desires after drinking to excess, when your imagination is allowed to let loose and you forget to put up your walls. Can you remember those ideas?”
Back and forth, back and forth, slow light caresses adding fuel to the fire no matter how tiny the movement, his mind torn in two from the gentle torture. Another breath was sucked in as his willpower fought to survive but he was caught in a losing battle and they both knew it, the next throb that twisted its way through his body tightening his balls so damned much Tech might as well have reached round and squeezed him.
Remember? He could barely remember his own damned name, and the soft whimpered moan escaped as Tech’s purr vibrated so close to his ear. He wanted him so badly, wanted to feel the warm wetness of his tongue against his throat, the taste of his lips against his own, those skilled hands running over his surrendered body, and it took everything he had just to sit still as the vibrations shook him.
“I can remember, Crosshair,” Tech whispered. “I can remember everything as though it happened only yesterday. I can remember your desire to explore different locations in play, from the steam of the showers to the coolness of the storage bays or even the back of one of the reg’s shuttles mid-flight when we’re isolated in the back. The idea of the oblivious pilot in the front excited you, didn’t it? Not knowing whether he would notice, not knowing how long it would be before we landed.”
Another soft grunt-whimper. Not long enough was the answer, but he hadn’t been able to turn down that opportunity then and the thought alone was still enough to cause butterflies in his stomach.
But Tech wasn’t finished.
“I can remember how you wanted us to pin you down,” he murmured. “For you to have your head in Wrecker’s lap, taking his cock deep into your throat and your ass rising higher as you waited to be taken. And you wanted us to take you hard, isn’t that right? To fuck you so hard you could barely remain upright, deep and hard, over and over again until you moaned. And you moan a lot, Crosshair. You always do. It is remarkably appealing.”
Just as well he liked it. Crosshair doubted he could shut that part of him up outside a hefty gag, biting his lip as he tried fruitlessly not to make any further noises.
“And those were just the start,” Tech continued huskily. “I can remember how you wanted me to spank you, to hoist you across my lap and turn your pale skin rosy red like the naughty boy you are. To make you squirm and plead and beg for your misdeeds. And, of course, your misdeeds were always sizeable.”
Pain raced through as he bit down on his already battered lip but Crosshair barely registered it, eyes half lidded and breathing already shaky. And still Tech wasn’t finished.
“I can remember how you wanted to try different things and different tastes, wanted your wrists bound behind your back as you would suckle on whoever I put in front of you.” Tech murmured. “How you wanted me to explore even when you were fearful.”
Especially when he was fearful. That was the best part, the adrenaline and the anticipation blurring together to craft such excitement that he barely knew where he was.
Almost like now. Crosshair’s shaky gaze moved helplessly to the door again but it remained fastened, solid and unyielding, and he closed his eyes again as he released his equally shaky breath and focused on Tech’s words. Yes, he could remember many of those things, not least because he’d often thought of those scenes over and over in his bunk when the lights were out and the rest of the Batch were slumbering, or perhaps when he was waiting on assignment, knowing he’d not be needed and going through what they’d do in celebration in his mind.
“Can you remember, Crosshair?” Even softer, barely a whisper.
“... y’s..,” Words were hard.
“A little louder.”
“.. yes.” He had to clear his throat. “I …remember.”
“You had many good ideas.” Tech was pleased. “I particularly enjoyed the session with you bound, gagged and blindfolded, fastened over a bench and covered extensively with a herb infused massage oil. The diverse scent mixing with your own was enough to turn Hunter into quite the animal.”
The finger continued its sadistic mission to toy with him, varying from basic back and forth to a small, light, circular motion against his skin that for some inexplicable reason seemed to be linked directly with his asshole as it tingled through longing. It wasn’t real, none of it was real, and how he wished it was. Dampness was already spreading over the crotch of his pants and Crosshair kept his head up, determined and yet so needy as his mind decided not to care that there was a solid metal surface between them.
His pants weren’t the only things suffering. A shameful flush had risen to his neck and cheeks as he strained to keep himself sane, and his ragged breathing had completely forgotten all of Tech’s previous breathing exercise in its haste for oxygen.
“Will you do something for me, Crosshair?” Tech said softly. “To be a good boy?”
A good boy. He hadn’t been a good boy in a long, long time. Possibly ever, in truth, and his hand curled helplessly on the floor as his body slowly became alive again from a very long slumber.
“..What?” he managed, only to earn himself a tsk.
“That is not polite.”
Start as he meant to go on, he guessed. Crosshair huffed a very shaky laugh, eyes still closed. “My apologies. What … sir?”
He had no idea what Tech was after but sir was good enough, and there was no escaping the soft groan that escaped and why, why was this so good? That finger slowly stroked over his overly sensitive skin again to tease out his responses with Tech’s breath so slow and steady in his ear. Well, of course Tech would be controlled. It was, after all, obvious.
“I want you to touch yourself.” Tech murmured.
His heart kriff near skipped a beat, Crosshair’s eyes snapping open incredulously before immediately and guiltily glancing toward the door as though there was an audience watching. He couldn’t. Not here. It was exposed, bare, his vulnerabilities open for all to see, and he found his body pressing back harder against the grate as his breath quickened for other reasons than pleasure.
“I ..,” Concentrate! “... it’s not safe.”
“Their camera systems are positioned to capture the area in front of the door and the corridor.” Tech said softly. “You will not be watched.”
Was that true? He didn’t know. Realistically they couldn’t have cameras in every damned cell, there were too many screens to monitor, but that didn’t soothe his fears. He couldn’t let them see him when his guard was down, not like that, and the tremor in his hand jumped again as though controlled by an unseen force.
Another desperate look toward the door again but it was as it always was, a door, blank and flat and grey, and Crosshair’s breath hitched again.
“You are safe, Crosshair.”
He didn’t feel safe. His nose still stung from the guard’s punches, the taste of iron in his mouth from the split lip and the ache from the bruises, all of which combined to confirm he wasn’t safe. But then that wasn’t the type of safe that Tech was referring to, and little by little he could feel himself calming as the vocal suggestion of sexual touch failed to materialise a group of angry guards and indifferent scientists to stick him with needles.
They were clones. They would never be safe, but then he guessed safety was not what they’d been created for.
“Will you do it for me?”
There was an option to say no, he knew that. Tech would simply nod and move onto something else, because that was what he always did, no fuss, no problems, simply accepting his answer for what it was. He could say no without any issue.
Only he didn’t want to say no, and his eyes moved guiltily to the door again.
“I…,” He hesitated, then swallowed. “Yes. I can do that for you.”
“Such a good boy.” Tech was pleased. “Unfasten your pants. Adjust the fabric to give yourself some room.”
His tongue played over his split lip a little more before he finally made his move. It didn’t take much, not with his erection straining against the fabric as it was, and the release of the fastener sent a burst of guilty pleasure racing through him as his hardened length found freedom. First touch on his cock felt like a brand, Crosshair unable to stop his soft hiss as intense sensation rushed through him so hard he could barely draw a breath.
How was this possible? He’d never been this excited, never, panting and confused and needy on the floor of a damned torture cell with the slick sweetness of his own pre-come coating his hand and his cock almost too sensitive to touch.
Tech was pleased, and the hairs at the back of Crosshair’s neck rose again at his soft purr.
“Good boy. Now run the palm of your hand over the head of your penis .. slowly at first.. Excellent. Spread the moisture of the pre-ejaculate over the glans .. good, that rotating action of your hand.. Yes, exactly that. Is it good?”
Was it good? Were Banthas hairy. Crosshair hadn’t been sure how he was going to die but apparently this was becoming a good if unexpected contender.
Thankfully Tech accepted his soft grunt-squeak of acknowledgement, and had moved onto other instructions.
“Slide your hand down the shaft of your penis until your hand is resting at the base, and then repeat again, a little quicker. Follow the speed of my fingers as you work it. Follow it exactly, please.”
Or what, he wanted to say, but this was Tech and he probably already had a punishment lined up. Not that he didn’t want to follow Tech’s lead, and it was getting increasingly difficult to sit still as he followed those instructions as well as he could attempt with only half his brain working - slowly up and down, lingering, his cock twitching at the gentle touch only Tech wasn’t planning to be gentle for long. The speed steadily began to pick up, varying fast and rough then slow and caressing, over and over again as his sensations bounced from one to the other until Crossair swore he was going mad.
And it wasn’t just the speed either. The fingers pressed against his skin harder if he wanted a stronger grip or just a light caress, and kriff he needed to come, wanted it so badly, and his soft muffled moan was one of desperate plea.
“Such a good boy.” Tech wasn’t in the mood to offer him release, much like the rest of Tantiss. “Now I want you to move your hips forward so your back is at an angle to the grate. A little more… yes, perfect. Now bring your knees up and put your feet flat on the floor. Swiftly, please.”
Like he had a choice any more. He followed every instruction blindly, wanting it all so badly that he didn’t care what happened as long as he was allowed to come.
But everything in Tech’s world happened for a reason.
“Good. Now I want you to slide your hand further into your pants. Palm your testicles lightly… good… and then allow your hand to slip further back. Do you have sufficient space in the clothing design for your hand to move?”
“Yes.” Just about, but the restriction felt good too and it took all his effort not to squirm into a lower position because he knew where this was going, could feel it in his bones, and sure enough Tech hummed a little note as he managed to turn a little more to survey the mess that was Crosshair whilst still keeping some contact between the grate.
“Good boy. Now I want you to slide a finger into yourself.”
Not a surprise but he hadn’t done that in a very long time too. First time he’d ever tried it had felt almost shameful, a secret place he wasn’t allowed to touch despite it being his own damned body, and when they’d grown older there had always been someone else eagerly happy to finger him open anyway. Turned out the shame hadn’t gone too far away and Crosshair could feel himself growing hotter as the ball of his finger nestled in place, the lightest of touch against his sensitive hole that twitched against the sensation.
“Have you inserted your finger?” Tech’s little reproachful voice suggested he knew the answer was no and was not pleased about it.
“No.” Barely a gasp, but apologetic. “Sorry.”
“Then do so. Push against the restriction of the sphincter muscle and slide it in as far as you can reach.” Tech waited for a moment as Crosshair gathered his courage and complied, the small stiffen of his body and soft gasp stating clearly when he’d breached. “And what does that feel like, Crosshair?”
What, he wanted a damned field report?! He could barely breathe, let alone speak or talk, his finger gripped fast by the warmth of his own inner muscles. Crosshair gathered himself together and tried to focus.
“Tight,” he said softly, barely higher than a whisper. “Hot. Kinda soft but kinda hard. S’good.”
Still a shiver of embarrassed guilty pleasure, but that almost made it better. No. It did make it better, it made it so much better, and Crosshair hated himself for that weakness.
“I want you to move your finger inside you.” Tech had plans. “Circle it as wide as you can.”
Kriff. This was going to kill him, he could feel it now. Crosshair bit his bottom lip in concentration and tried to follow orders, but his body was quite happy where it was and had clamped down on it hard and all he could do was gently circle the very tip and feel the soft strength of the muscles tell his finger sternly to behave. The feeling vibrated through, a strange sensitive-numbness inside that already felt far too addictive.
“It’s hard,” Crosshair complained, panting softly.
“Relax a little more,” Tech instructed calmly but encouragingly. “Push out with your muscles. That’s good. Any easier?”
A bit but he wasn’t exactly freely swimming and Crosshair made a soft grunt of exertion. Another soft tsk.
“Don’t fight it,” Tech instructed. “Ease into it. And I want you to start moving your finger in and out, slowly at first - slowly, Crosshair, that means to proceed at a sedate pace - and continue until I say stop. Do you understand?”
Oh, he understood. He understood very well. He was sunk enough to be almost on his back without actually lying down, his cock was still desperately hard and twitching, his balls tightened and body trembling, his asshole slowly being opened and Tech was slowly introducing his dominant voice, the voice that told him what would happen, the voice that cut through any residual tension, and Crosshair almost melted further in a sea of lust and need and pleasure.
Needed this. Needed this so badly and finally their surroundings - hell, the damned galaxy - was barely a memory as his full attention rested on Tech. With each shaky breath almost forced from his lungs and his trembling legs barely able to keep him upright, Crosshair almost squeaked when Tech leaned closer and the beautiful sensation of Tech’s fingers on him suddenly vanished.
No!! But Tech wasn’t finished yet.
“Good boy. Now I want you to stroke yourself for me with your other hand. Do it NOW.”
Couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. His body so sensitive he wanted to weep, it took no more than two strokes before the pleasure tore through him, his muscles clamping down on his finger and his soft almost agonised cry into the stillness of the room as his climax shuddered through him with the relentless force of a natural disaster.
Panting, twitching, still so very sensitive, Crosshair sank back weakly against the grate with his eyes closed and tried to recover his breathing. The coolness of the air brushed against the sweat of his skin and that was so damned good that he just wanted to strip off his clothing and bask in its temperature.
“Good.” Tech said softly and there was no mistaking the pride in his voice. The exhausted smile on Crosshair’s face paused as Tech’s fingers found his own again, that welcome warmth and contact, and suddenly it didn’t matter that they weren’t in the same room. They were together and that was all that mattered, that was all that had ever mattered, and Crosshair’s eyes stayed relaxed and shut where they would normally look fearfully toward the door.
“Do you believe me now?” Tech asked softly, and Crosshair laughed weakly.
Yeah, he did. And he guessed even Hemlock couldn’t take that away.
END