Chapter Text
The Remora One shook as it left the atmosphere of the outpost. As it built speed through the strata, the frost slowly melted form across the transparasteel viewport and sheets of ice fell from the landing gear to shatter against the earth below.
To Echo’s left, Omega was flicking switches of the navicomputer, helping him with the flight sequence. At her feet, Batcher lay curled up and snoring. At Echo’s prompting, Omega punched Pabu’s coordinates into the computer, calculating the hyperspace jump with impressive speed. He was about to make the final jump when the ship’s communicator blinked, indicating an incoming call.
On the interface, Rex’s comm code flashed. Echo picked up immediately.
The blue specks of holoprojection fizzled, slowly taking the shape of Rex. The image glitched once - twice - and then stabilized. “Vod,” Rex greeted, nodding at Echo. The captain turned to Omega next; “Hey, kid”.
Omega returned Rex’s greeting with a small wave of her hand, sending an ache tumbling through Echo’s chest. It was a far cry from the energetic responses she used to give.
He tore his attention away from Omega, focusing on the situation at hand. “What do you need?” he asked. Rex wasn’t in the habit of making social calls.
“Ah, well -” Rex scrubbed his hand over his blond buzzcut. “I have a favor to ask you - and the rest of clone force 99.”
Rex was used to giving orders and delegating responsibilities; his hesitation let Echo know that it was probably going to be a big ask. Rex knew, though, about what the batch had gone through with the recent loss of Tech - and with Crosshair and Omega still recovering from their time on Tantiss. Echo knew that Rex wouldn’t be asking them unless it was critical.
“I’ll go get them,” volunteered Omega, exiting the cockpit quickly.
When the doors shut behind her, Rex crossed his arms. “How is she?”
Echo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wish I knew, honestly. She’s so…” he trailed off.
“Closed off?” prompted Rex.
“Yeah.”
“Well, she certainly wouldn’t be the first clone to become withdrawn after being held prisoner.” His piercing stare let Echo know exactly who else he was thinking of.
“That’s part of what I’m afraid of, vod. There’s grown men who can’t deal with the aftermath of extended captivity.” He wasn’t going to say the quiet part out loud, either: that he had almost been one of them. “Omega’s just a kid.”
“She’s tougher than you think, Echo -”
The doors to the cockpit slid open, cutting their conversation short.
“Hello, vod’e,” greeted Rex, seamlessly transitioning. His gaze rested on Crosshair just a fraction of a second longer than it did on Hunter or Wrecker, and Echo thought he could see Rex look for Tech - before he remembered he wouldn’t be there.
“What do you need, captain?” Hunter prompted.
Rex didn’t protest the use of his old title. There was no point; none of his men ever listened, anyway,
Crosshair settled into the copilot’s seat while Omega sat next to Batcher on the floor, stroking her short, blue fur. Although he’d never admit it, Crosshair had become weakened during his time on Tantiss, as much from lack of proper nutrition as to lack of exercise. Omega leant against the console, eyes focused on Rex. She didn’t lament the loss of her seat; she always was observant.
“We’ve received intel that may be vital - it’s about a pickup. Lots of useful med supplies -”
Hunter shifted, placing a hand on his hip. “And you want us to do this pickup?”
Rex nodded. “I do.” He crossed his arms to conceal the tension in his posture. “I know now’s not the best time for your squad, but we’ve run into a…situation…here at base, and we don’t have the men or resources to spare. Plus - based on the Remora’s location, you boys won’t have to go far out of your way.”
Hunter’s lips pursed, but before he could deny Rex, Wrecker elbowed him.
“C’mon, boss. A little side trip will be fine. I’m up for it!”
A dry laugh escaped Hunter. “Yeah, ‘Wreck, I know you are. The question is if everyone else is.” He directed the comment to both Crosshair and Omega, but a quick glance at the group’s youngest member affirmed that she was in agreement with Wrecker - which left the decision up to Crosshair.
“Leaving it up to me?” he rasped, slouched posture straightening.
Hunter didn’t take the bait. “Well?”
“What else is there for us to do?” came Crosshair’s dry remark. It was as close to a ‘yes’ as Hunter knew they’d get.
Hunter returned his gaze to the projection of Rex. “Alright captain, We’re in.”
Rex nodded. “Good. I’ll send the details over.” A few parting words were exchanged before Echo ended the call, the eerie blue light fading rapidly into darkness.
Like with many missions, the goal was simple; they were to infiltrate an abandoned RMSU on Drongar and collect any leftover medical supplies or equipment for the clone rebellion.
“What’s on Drongar?” Omega asked once the initial briefing was over.
“Nothing much, any more,” Echo replied. If Tech were there, he’d have been able to give Omega the entire history of the planet - but he wasn’t, so they were left with what they could gather from the data packet Rex had sent over and the dirge of information on the holonet. “Imperial databases say it used to be the site of some medicinal fungus - that’s why the Seppies wanted it.”
“What happened?”
Echo skimmed the article on his datapad until he found the answer. “It mutated - it was useless after that. No use fighting over the planet then. It looks like Republic forces withdrew pretty quickly: probably why there’s a RMSU left on-world.”
“RMSU?” she quirked an eyebrow at him.
That answer, at least, was one he didn’t have to look up. “Republic Mobile Surgical Unit.”
Omega nodded, curiosity - at least temporarily - satisfied. They were about a quarter of a standard rotation away from Drongar: just enough time to catch some rest to recover from the excitement on the outpost. Wrecker and Hunter had already left the cockpit to do just that, so Echo told Omega as much. He noticed how Crosshair grinned in amusement when Omega protested at the idea of a nap.
“I’m not a tubie! I’m older than you!”
Echo rolled his eyes. Sometimes Omega reminded him so much of his own time as a cadet.
“Well, granny,” Crosshair cut in, nudging Omega with his boot. “Better get some rest anyways for those old bones.”
Omega rolled her eyes at that, but she didn’t continue to protest. Batcher trailed her out of the cockpit, leaving Crosshair and Echo alone.
“Don’t,” Crosshair growled from between clenched teeth.
”I didn’t say anything!” defended Echo.
”You didn’t have to. I could feel you thinking from here.”
Echo smirked, shooting Cross a glance out of the corner of his eye. During all his time with clone force 99, Cross had rarely - if ever - shown care for anyone other than his squad. Hell, he’d treated Echo’s arrival to the team as an extinction-level event. It was good to see him open up.
Echo’s good humor cooled, though, when he remembered the past two years. He narrowed his eyes. “She trusts you, whether you deserve it or not. Don’t kriff it up.”
***
The air on Drongar sat thick and wet around them like the hot breath of some great beast.
They’d landed the Remora 1 about half a kilometer from their target. It was further than any of them had wanted, but it had been the only patch of land solid enough to handle the weight of the ship without the risk of it sinking below the surface.
Still, Hunter fretted. “And you’re sure the engines will still be fine to exit atmo?”
”Absolutely? No,” Echo scratched at the back of his head with his scomp. “But I’m fairly confident.” He spared a glance toward the ship. “Scrubber tech has improved a bit since the days of the Republic, and besides - we won’t be here long, anyways. We should be able to leave before the particles gum things up too bad.”
Any damage done to the ship’s mechanics as they’d brought it through the dense spore clouds in Drongar’s atmosphere had already been done. They both looked at the hulking mass of the ship glinting in the green-tinged light
Wrecker’s heavy footfalls broke the silence, and when he finally stepped off the ramp onto Drongar’s surface, he sunk several centimeters into the earth with a wet squelch.
Omega and Crosshair came after, settling packs over their shoulders. Batcher trotted behind them, leaping to the ground and spattering mud over quite an impressive blast radius.
The air was buzzing with the sounds of a million insects, the drone only punctuated by the sound produced by the group. When the ramp to the ship closed, though, it was with a strange sense of finality.
Hunter turned to face the group. “If we keep a reasonable pace, we should be able to make it to the RMSU before noon.”
Echo glanced at Crosshair. He wondered if the other man was healed enough from his time in captivity to be able to trek through such unfavorable conditions at that speed.
He supposed there was only one way to find out.
***
They didn’t make it to the objective before noon.
The further they traveled, the less stable the ground became. Mud sucked at their feet with every step, and when they weren’t pausing to pull a boot from the muck, they were fighting to untangle themselves from the gnarled vines and roots that permeated the spongy ground and made the foliage nearly impenetrable.
Between the gaps in the dense leaves overhead, Echo could see Drongar’s green sky turn dark with dusk. He wiped the sweat from his face with his gloved hand, watching as the rest of the team did much the same. It was a relentless cycle: walk at a miserably slow pace, pause to hack a path through vines and branches, all while carefully planning each step so as to not sink knee-deep in the water-logged marsh.
To his credit, Crosshair was holding up surprisingly well. His face was perhaps a little pallid, but he’d kept pace with everyone else - and he’d kept his pessimistic snark to a minimum. Satisfied that Crosshair wasn’t going to spontaneously keel over, Echo shifted his focus to Omega. The strands of her pale hair had come loose of the nerftail she’d taken to keeping it in and were stuck to the sides of her face with sweat. Her mouth was pressed into a determined line as she picked through the terrain about three paces in front of Crosshair.
Echo only noticed her soft gasp of surprise because he’s been focusing on her. One second, he was determining how she was faring, the next - she was gone, submerged into the ground beneath their feet.
They all sprang into action immediately, but there was no need. Seconds after she’d disappeared, Omega resurfaced on her own, sputtering and pushing sodden moss off of her head. Echo let loose a sigh of relief as Wrecker reached out to pull Omega from the swamp. It was slow going as she wriggled out from the roots that had criss-crossed the swamp floor.
She was halfway out when something snagged. “Hold on,” she called, eyebrows drawing together in concentration. “My foot’s caught on something.”
Crosshair and Hunter, who both had been hovering anxiously by Wrecker, both leant down (to do what, exactly, Echo wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as though they could pull any harder - even together - than Wrecker could), but they backed off as Omega waved them off. Batcher, however, wasn’t so easily deterred, and barked and paced anxiously as if unsure what to do. Omega kicked and twisted her leg, sending droplets of murky water splashing, and then she was free.
Just as she was back on - relatively - solid ground, the source of the snag burbled to the surface, gleaming a dingy white against the brown bramble of the marsh.
Omega gasped, holding on to Wrecker’s arm. “Is that..”
“Looks like it,” Echo confirmed, picking his way over to the object while avoiding falling into the swamp like Omega had. He squatted down, picking the offending object out of the muck. Echo cradled it in his scomp arm and wiped away the mud and lichen from the faceplate.
Staring up at them was some unlucky trooper’s helmet - and, judging by the weight of it, the owner’s skull, too. Echo’s stomach twisted at the thought, and he grimaced when closer inspection confirmed his suspicion.
For a moment that seemed to stretch out into eternity, they all stood stone-still, unable to look away from the dead, black gaze of the helmet.
Omega - thankfully - broke the silence. “That’s Phase I armor.” It wasn’t a question.
Echo was thankful for the distraction, though, and took the opportunity to rise to his feet.
Hunter caught his gaze. “You did say Drongar was a battleground.”
“From the beginning of the war, yeah.” Echo finally looked away from the helmet to the squad, who all looked a little more grey in the face.
The helmet had sent a surprisingly strong wave of nostalgia and grief through him.
“Well…” Wrecker cut in awkwardly. “What should we do with it?” He gestured toward the helmet, just to make sure the rest of them knew what he was talking about.
“We could put it back where we found it,” Crosshair suggested mock-innocently. He shrugged when four unamused glares immediately turned his way.
Eventually, they decided to lay the remains to rest between the roots of a great tree. They left it in as honorable of a burial site as circumstances would allow, cushioned on a pillow of moss and blossoms, courtesy of Omega.
The suns had long since set, and by the time they breached the edge of the swamp, the sky was devoid of everything aside from clouds and starlight.
“And there it is.” The RMSU stood about forty meters from them, its straight lines and grey permacrete a stark contrast from the wildness of the surroundings. The RMSU consisted of several small-to-midsize buildings connected by plasteel tunnels. The structures were arranged in a loose semicircle, presumably so that transports could deposit injured troopers as close to aide as possible.
As they approached, the damage to the buildings became more apparent. Lichens and vines covered the grey pre-fab walls; in many places, the overgrowth was so dense that it obscured the structure below entirely.
That the RMSU could just be abandoned here without a second thought - and without anyone noticing its absence - was an obscene reminder of the scale and futility of the war. There were many campaigns Echo remembered that could have been completely altered by the presence of more - or any - large-scale medical aid. The waste of this site, though, was just another entry in a long list of meaningless losses to the war that had never meant anything except to the people who’d died in it.
Out of the cover of trees, it was silent. The low hum of insects died thirty paces from the RMSU. Their approaching footsteps sent no creatures skittering through the underbrush; no breeze stirred the air. In the twilight, they’d all taken out their glowrods, but the small amount of illumination offered was dwarfed by endless darkness as Drongar descended deeper into night.
“We need to make camp here for the night,” Hunter murmured, his low voice barely above a whisper.
“In there?” asked Omega, gesturing to the facility ahead with one hand and absentmindedly stroking Batcher’s soft fur with the other.
Echo watched as Hunter nodded and then turned to address them all. “We’ll clear the buildings before we settle. In the morning we can gather anything valuable before we head back to the ship.”
Hunter predictably took point, immediately followed by Wrecker and Omega. Crosshair and Echo took the rear, walking side by side. They held the light steady as Wrecker and Hunter used their vibroblades to hack away the thick, wooden vines from the nearest safety door.
After the plant matter was peeled away, they all stood back so that Wrecker could use his blade to pry the door open. Echo watched as he wedged the point of the blade between the door and the frame, working it back and forth over and over again. The screeching sound of metal being torn pierced the air, and he smiled to himself when he noticed Crosshair helping Omega cover her ears.
When there was a sufficient gap between the door and the frame, Wrecker grabbed the twisted metal. With a warning to stand clear, he ripped the door from the frame, sending one final shriek piercing through the night.
Hunter took a few tentative steps into the building, using the glowrod to verify that the entryway was empty. They piled in after him, Wrecker wedging the door back into the frame once they were all inside.
The metal underneath their feet groaned as they moved forward through the structure. They weren’t actually expecting anything aside from ancient equipment and dust, so only Hunter had his weapon drawn. Stale air stuck to the inside of Echo’s throat, making the close quarters even more claustrophobia-inducing.
The vestibule was empty aside from a few scattered pieces of medical equipment - none of which Echo recognized. As they crept deeper into the RMSU, each new room became increasingly crowded with abandoned equipment. The center aisle remained clear in every space, however. Transporting patients quickly was often a matter of life or death, and that was reflected in both the arrangement of the rooms and the RMSU itself.
“We should locate the staff quarters and start to set up camp there,” murmured Hunter as he examined the room around them.
“We can do it!” Omega interjected, gesturing to herself and Crosshair, whose only response was a deepened frown.
The resulting silence was eerier than the unnatural stillness outside.
Echo was positive Hunter would say no. Crosshair had bonded with the kid, sure, but he’d been trying to kill them just a few standard months ago. He prepared to help Hunter rebut Omega’s protests, but the way Hunter massaged his brow gave Echo pause.
“Fine,” Hunter sighed, catching Echo’s eye for only a moment before looking away. “Echo, Wrecker, and myself will clear the rest of the buildings and meet you there. Send us your location as soon as you find it.”
Omega nodded, but Crosshair’s eyes narrowed in some inscrutable expression. Something passed unspoken between him and Hunter, but what exactly, well - Echo couldn’t tell.
Echo watched as Omega and Crosshair left, with Crosshair walking behind their group’s youngest member like an overprotective shadow and Batcher bounding ahead. They made a strange pair - with Omega’s kindhearted nature and Crosshair’s perpetual cynicism - but Echo found himself glad that they had bonded on Tatiss. He knew firsthand how difficult it was to be held captive and come back to a world where your closest vod had died.
Hunter’s watchful gaze trailed the two, and even after they’d disappeared around the corner his eyes remained transfixed on where they had been.
“I’m surprised you let the kid go with him,” Echo confessed.
That seemed to break Hunter’s trance. “Me too.”
They were all wary of Crosshair - all of them apart from Omega. Even Wrecker, who claimed to trust Omega’s judgement about the change in his allegiance, was cautious around their youngest batchmate.
“If we split up, we’ll cover the facility faster. Any objections?” Both Echo and Wrecker shook their heads. Every member of their squad was capable of holding their own, and besides: none of them were really expecting any danger.
Hunter and Wrecker went left while Echo went right. He activated the light on his bucket, watching the area before him for anything suspicious. Every sound echoed off of the empty corridors; the old building seemed to exaggerate the metallic sound of his footsteps. Occasionally, he would step on a section of flooring that was particularly weathered and feel the structure threaten to give out beneath him.
Eventually, the endless corridor terminated in a series of rooms. The first two rooms seemed to be some kind of clinic space. Cots and machines crowded the space. Stray tubes and hypos dotted the floor haphazardly, as if they were dropped in the rush to evacuate. A thick coating of dust covered every available surface; Echo’s movement obviously the only thing that had disturbed the stillness in years.
Satisfied that no feral creatures were hiding in the space, biding their time to attack, he stepped back out into the hallway. The door to the third room was closed, but he was able to wedge it open just enough to slip through. Echo felt his eyes raise in surprise. The room appeared to be some kind of supply closet. Shelves covered every wall, stacked high with more boxes and crates than he had time to count. Sure, the whole point of the mission was to recover supplies, but he hadn’t exactly been optimistic about the odds of finding much useful.
Echo activated his com. “Hunter, come in.”
Static buzzed over the small speakers of his comm before it resolved into clear speech. “Receiving.”
“I’ve found a storage closet - it’s packed full of materials.”
“Good, we’ll clear it out in the morning, then. Make your way to my location. Omega and Crosshair found crew quarters.”
“Acknowledged,” Echo said, cutting off the brief call. He took one last glance over the contents of the room before stepping back into the hall.
His datapad beeped, indicating that it had received Hunter’s location. It was easy to let his mind ignore the small details that had caught so much of his attention on his way down the hall, although the eerie stillness and emptiness still gnawed at his nerves.
The crew quarters, it turned out, were located on the exact opposite end of the RMSU. While walking, Echo was able to sketch up a rudimentary layout of the facility. One one end of the crescent, there were the clinics Echo had just visited - most likely the place where those with non life-threatening injuries were treated. The center of the base - where they had walked through upon entering - seemed to be the main medical area, featuring an assortment of surgical suites and treatment areas. THe end of the facility, where the rest of the squad were now, was where the living quarters and extra storage were located.
Upon approach, the RMSU hadn’t looked that large; larger structures, after all, were less mobile. It took Echo upwards of twenty minutes, though, to walk the length of the unit. The remaining organic portion of his legs had begun to tingle uncomfortably after all the walking he had done that day. It was a common occurrence among amputees, a medic had told him, but it was also yet another reminder of how much things had changed - how much he had changed. He would have to take his prosthetics off to give his nerves the opportunity to rest.
Echo leant against a smooth, plasteel wall and used the heel of his hand to work a cramp out of his thigh. The discomfort spiked into pain, but he steadied his breathing as he worked though it. When the majority of the pain subsided. He lay his head back against the wall, taking a moment to breathe.
He only noticed it because he was leaning directly against the wall: a staccato scratching. When he straightened, he couldn’t detect the movement at all but when he pressed his hand to the plasteel surface, he could feel something, as if something was scratching on the outside of the thin pre-fab wall. He removed his hand and listened; he couldn’t hear anything, just feel the vibrations of movement through the plasteel.
Echo frowned, pain in his prosthetics all but forgotten. He pressed his hand to the wall again, but the movement was gone.
Most likely, it was just foliage being thrashed against the RMSU by wind, but it had surprised him in the tomblike stillness of the facility.
He sighed and resumed his journey to the crew quarters. A good night’s rest sounded excellent to him; after that, they could collect the supplies they had come for and be on their way.
As far as missions went, an easy recovery op was a welcome change.