I’ve bitten the bullet and officially posted the first chapter of my first Bad Batch fanfic!! It basically started life as me watching the Umbara arc and in response to one line going “what would happen if the Bad Batch had to work with Krell” and now it’s taken on a life of its own… Anyway go have fun it’s gonna be chaos and messy and I’ve had to be REALLY quiet with the tags because I don’t want to spoil it!!
Cannon Fodder - me_4eva (read on AO3)
"I've seen it before. Some clones are just... defective. They aren't able to succumb to authority."
Early into their deployment, the Bad Batch are brought in to a dangerous mission to breach a secret Separatist base with a notorious Jedi general to recover an undercover operative. However, as it becomes painfully apparent that nothing is what it seems, where they are left with more questions than answers, it becomes clear that they've been caught in the middle of a deadly game of espionage, and they must use every skill in their arsenal to escape the planet with their lives.
Excerpt under the cut!
Chapter 1: The Best Option
There was only one thought in the mind of Commander Cody, Marshall Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, as the modified Omicron-class attack shuttle docked with its usual flair in the hangar on board The Negotiator.
Why did this have to be the best option?
They were a full rotation later than he’d hoped for, though the small starfighter magnetised to the clamp on the underside of their ship indicated yet another mission success. Not that any of that would matter.
This was a bad idea. This was a very bad idea. Why was this the best idea that anyone had? And why, why, did Commander Cody have to be the one in charge of brokering it?
Cody tried to hitch a smile onto his face as the ramp lowered, but any attempt at a smile dropped to be replaced by the growing sense of dread reaching new lows in his stomach as the four of them emerged.
Every single one of them was covered in muck.
Nope. Surely there must be another option.
Why was there not another option?
The four members of Clone Force Ninety-Nine reached the bottom of their shuttle and removed their helmets, and Cody felt that pit in his stomach reach rock bottom somewhere in his pelvis. It was clear that with the exception of Tech, they had all at least seen the inside of a sonic, not that this did anything for the smell of… swamp… that still clung to their armour. Tech still had dirt around his eyes where the gap in his helmet for his goggles left exposed skin. Hunter looked tired, not even bothering to smile, fine lines around his eyes and at the bridge of his nose indicating a tension that probably denoted a headache. Cody had either forgotten just how vicious Crosshair’s signature scowl could be or else Crosshair was at an entirely new level of grumpy. Only Wrecker seemed to be anywhere close to his best form, his hair clean and tidy in the regulation style of clones, and Cody knew well enough that when Wrecker was the least objectionable member of the squad, Clone Force Ninety-Nine was not going to make friends with the brass easily.
Which, unfortunately, was exactly what Cody needed them to do.
“You’re late,” Cody said by way of greeting, matching their complete lack of warmth with his own.
Crosshair huffed. “You can blame them.”
Oh good. Crosshair was in a bad mood.
“We were tasked with retrieving an experimental prototype,” Tech said shortly. “We have retrieved it. Things might have gone slightly more to plan if we had appropriated our resources better, as I suggested.” His eyes narrowed dangerously to flick between Hunter and Crosshair.
Even better. Tech was also in a bad mood. An insufferable, know-it-all-and-yet-nobody-listened mood which meant that he was probably going to be matching his brothers’ energy with a litany of ‘I told you so’s. Which sounded like it was well underway.
Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stow it, Tech.”
“You only have yourself to blame for the onset of your migraine. I did warn you that ion cannons, modified, experimental, or otherwise, would exacerbate your senses-”
“And you’re making the migraine worse, so stow it, Tech.”
Oh perfect. Hunter had a migraine.
“I’m sure I’ll read all about it in your report,” Cody said, only a hint of sarcasm as he glanced at Hunter. “In the meantime, you need to come with me. You’re late for a mission briefing.”
“Already?” Wrecker asked, falling into step behind Cody as he led the way down the corridor. “We just got here.”
“If you wish for Crosshair’s mood to improve, I would suggest leaving him here to catch up on sleep while we attend the briefing-”
“I was in that karking tree for four rotations!”
“Of a moon with a shorter rotation cycle than galactic standard, so as I mentioned, it was probably closer to two and a half-”
“With no sleep!”
“A predicament that you volunteered for,” Tech finished shortly. “And I’m sure you dozed, and given that you slept the entire flight back, I fail to see why you are still being quite so insufferable.”
“Six hours is not the same as four-”
“-Two and a half-”
“-rotations-”
“Enough!”
Stars help him, Cody would quite happily send them to the brig if they were not literally his only option. The pit in his stomach that had reached rock bottom started digging.
“You are soldiers!” Cody hissed as he wheeled around to face them. “You represent the Grand Army of the Republic, so, deviant or defective as you call yourselves, try and have some discipline!”
Cody rarely needed to read anyone the riot act. Respected enough in the GAR for his rank and with a reputation that preceded him, he almost never needed to lose his temper. He had worked with General Kenobi long enough to know how to conjure discipline with nothing more than a tone slightly firmer than usual, and had worked in tandem with General Skywalker to judge when to bother and when to let it go. Such outbursts were reserved only for the most unruly shinies who had not encountered his reputation, and were usually met by the shinies standing bolt-upright and, in at least one occasion, a loss of bladder control.
However, these were no ordinary shinies. The self-christened Bad Batch did manage to shut up, but mostly looked surprised rather than appropriately chagrined with a small dose of the fear of whatever deity they’d decided to stay on the right side of. Cody felt himself deflating slightly at the lack of his own surprise at their reaction as Hunter simply favoured Cody with an incredulous smile.
“‘Discipline’?” Hunter echoed, as though the word was normally entirely foreign to a group of shiny commandos when talking to one of the most senior ranking officers in the GAR. Though, then again, perhaps part of that was on Cody for expecting such a thing.
Cody shot him a look that he hoped communicated how serious he was being. “Yes, Sergeant. Get your men in line. And… and… really?” He couldn’t quite stop himself as he looked them all over pointedly. “You couldn’t have bothered to clean your armour at any point on your six-hour flight?”
He saw the four of them exchanging a look as he turned around, but tried not to care too much as footsteps resumed behind him.
“Not arguing with you that they were out of line, but – late? Discipline? Clean armour?” Hunter dared to put a hand on Cody’s arm to stop him. “What’s this about, Cody? What’s going on?”
Cody sighed as he let himself be stopped. “Your next mission involves working with a Jedi,” he said. “And he’s one of the most by-the-book Generals in the GAR. He’s not going to react well to you being… well…”
“…us?” Wrecker supplied.
Cody favoured him with a rue smile and a slight nod. “So, at the very least… just try to… at least pretend… to be professional…”
He turned around and began leading the way again.
“Sir, yes, sir,” Crosshair muttered sarcastically as the footsteps behind him continued. Cody pretended not to hear.
Cannon Fodder - me_4eva - Chapter 5: Let Things Play Out (read on AO3)
The latest chapter of Cannon Fodder is up! And we finally get Crosshair's POV, and let's just say the boys don't have a good morning... Excerpt under the cut!
His heart was racing… He could not make out much, only that his heart was pounding, the rush of battle roared in his ears – who was he fighting? He had never felt such strong hatred before for anything… never felt such strong conviction that these kills were so justified – he did not know what was going on ahead of him as out of the fog he could dimly make out an icy blue light –
Crosshair startled awake suddenly – his hands closed around his weapon – only to find them empty – he swung them forwards – pushing away as he registered that he had been touched –
Only to see a pair of brown eyes looking concerned behind a pair of yellow-tinted goggles.
Right.
Tech’s hand on his shoulder that had shaken him from his dream pulled back gently, perhaps gauging from his own personal preferences that Crosshair did not wish to be touched after his nightmare.
“Are you alright?” Tech asked gently.
Crosshair nodded, closing his eyes. His heart was still racing in his chest. His head was pounding. He numbly pulled off his helmet and fumbled blindly for his pack –
A canteen of water was pressed into his hands by someone who had correctly guessed what he wanted – or perhaps what the insufferable medic training dictated that he needed, whether he wanted it or not. Nonetheless, he unscrewed the top and took a long drink.
“You should take it slow-”
Tech broke off as Crosshair cracked open his eyes to fix him with a supremely unimpressed look. Insufferable medic training it was, then. He belligerently kept drinking in defiance of it.
Tech clearly knew him well enough to shrug and back off with his own look of ‘on your own head be it’. He turned to his datapad, clearly relishing having access to the Holonet once again, but there was a certain way in which Tech’s eyes flickered to Crosshair that indicated that the datapad, for once, did not have his full attention.
The silence didn’t last long before Tech broke it. “That was some nightmare.”
Crosshair left it a beat before simply humming in response.
“Do you wish to talk about it?”
Crosshair did not. Leaving aside Crosshair’s natural disinclination to ‘talk about things’, he wasn’t sure how much having a conversation would help, given that he couldn’t remember a single thing that had happened in it to leave him feeling so… reactive. Even now, the details were slipping away – there had been an enemy – who? He’d been fighting them… fighting? Killing? What had it been about… to have his heart racing so much that it might have woken Hunter –
Something wholly unrelated to the nightmare occurred to him. He glanced around at Hunter and Wrecker – then back to Tech –
“Tech…” the pieces were slowly connecting as he let the suspicion creep into his voice. “What time is it?”
A pause. A very guilty pause that confirmed Crosshair’s suspicions.
“About three and a half hours to daybreak,” Tech finally said. “Your watch would be starting in a bit.”
Crosshair put the canteen down as he watched his brother firmly studying his datapad and deliberately not looking at him.
“‘Would be?’” Crosshair echoed, an eyebrow raising.
“If such a thing became necessary, yes.”
Oh goody. Tech was in the mood to make this difficult.
“And why are you the one waking me up, rather than Hunter, who was supposed to have the watch before me?”
Tech finally looked at Crosshair with a look that was both unrepentant and imploring.
“I had things I needed to do,” Tech said simply. “Opportunities to connect to an array will be few and far between. It is the obvious solution that I search for what I need here.”
“And the bit about Hunter needing you fresh in the morning?”
“You know perfectly well that a single night is far from what will cause a problem for me.”
Crosshair felt his hackles raise at the playful hint in Tech’s voice. “Is that supposed to be about that kriffing tree-”
“Besides,” Tech cut him off, a self-satisfied smirk creasing his eyes behind the goggles. “Neither Hunter nor Krell will complain at what I have found.”
Crosshair was utterly infuriated – he didn’t want to get sucked in by the tantalising comment Tech had made, the sibling in him wanted to press the barb Tech had thrown his way but Tech knew just how to pique his curiosity, knew just how to win every argument he got into and Crosshair did not want to let him win this time he didn’t he didn’t he didn’t –
“You found something?” Karking Tech, he made Crosshair powerless to stop himself.
“More than that,” Tech said, that infuriating twinkle in his eyes lighting up. “I may have a plan.”
Crosshair looked at Tech expectantly, his frown intensifying as the silence dragged on, but Tech’s attention was back on his datapad. Crosshair gestured with his hand to elaborate –
“The explanation will have to wait until morning,” Tech said simply. “I still wish to verify a couple more things, and I would rather only explain it once.”
Crosshair, in spite of the sand, was glad he had removed his helmet if only so that Tech could see the true filth of his glare. He really was annoying sometimes…
Still, that wasn’t the only thing Crosshair could press Tech about. “And what about… your other research project?”
He lowered his voice to barely a breath as they both cast a glance at the sleeping Besalisk on the other side of their makeshift campsite.
“Inconclusive,” Tech finally murmured. “He authorised this mission, but beyond that there is no indication of his motives. Curiously, he initially suggested running it alone, but that does not tell us much.”
“He might have wanted a straight run at Bragg,” Crosshair suggested.
“Or he might have been too unsure of who to trust,” Tech countered. “It is important to consider every possibility.”
Crosshair closed his eyes again, his headache spiking.
“One way or another, I do not think we are going to get many more answers on Republic systems,” Tech said simply. “We, for better or worse, may need to allow things to play out before we come to any concrete conclusions.”
“And in the meantime?” Crosshair hissed. “What if ‘letting things play out’ gets one of us killed?”
“I did not say ‘lower your guard’, Crosshair,” Tech said with a certain finality, fixing him with a more serious look than Crosshair was entirely comfortable seeing on his brother. “Indeed, your overwatch and caution may be the most valuable thing at our disposal. I know that you will be looking out for all of us, as you are best at, and you will not hesitate to act if necessary. It is why I am confiding my suspicions in you.”
Crosshair glared back at Tech, unable to stop that rising nausea in his gut that had been churning since he’d first laid eyes on Krell. He gritted his teeth, a thousand retorts on his mind, but –
But this was Tech. If anyone else had told him to wait, he would have disregarded it altogether. But it was his meticulous brother, who would go through every possibility and calculate the value of any action faster than a computer. If Tech was telling him to wait, to hold fire, then there was undoubtedly a very good reason for it.
“Get some sleep,” Crosshair said at last. “Spare yourself a lecture in the morning and go to sleep now. I’ll take the last watch and cover for you.”
Tech opened his mouth with a raised finger. “That may not-”
“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to take Wrecker’s and Hunter’s watch,” Crosshair cut him off firmly. “At the very least, it’ll cover for you with the Jedi.”
Tech closed his mouth. He let out a sigh of defeat. “Very well. I will see you in the morning. I hope your watch remains uneventful.”
Crosshair watched Tech set his datapad into his pack and crawl into his bedroll. In a truly enviable amount of time, his eyes were closed and his breathing evened out into the slow, soft rhythm of sleep.
Crosshair frowned, the sand battering his face, not helping his headache. He tried to remember the nightmare, but couldn’t grasp more than a feeling – a feeling of anger – no, not anger – something more, something akin to –
Hate.
The feeling pounded in his head, a compulsion drumming against every facet of his skull. He rubbed above his right ear, messing his fingers between his cropped silver hair as he closed his eyes, willing the pain to go away. He glanced back at Tech, his breath still even in sleep – because that womp-rat could fall asleep anywhere in no time at all when he wanted to – to Hunter, who was going to be another storm to reckon with when he woke up and realised Tech had let him and Wrecker sleep through their watches – to Wrecker, with whom he’d encountered his first real taste of being about to lose one of his brothers while there was nothing he could do about it – and to Krell – mysterious Krell, who had no business being on this mission, who was likely going to get all of them killed, and somehow Tech expected Crosshair to just let him…
Crosshair sighed as his headache spiked again. He tugged his helmet back on, granting him some merciful relief from the sand, and decided that if he was going to glare at anyone, it should be the desert they were stuck in.
The light grew gradually bigger as he approached. There was something strange about it. Was it an odd shape? He slowed when he approached the sand.
Then he jerked the bike to a halt. He didn’t understand what he was seeing at first. The light was a person. A small person huddled near the water. She was surrounded by a ring of amber light that created what almost looked like a circular ray shield sprouting up from the ground and extending high above her head in a pillar until it faded out into nothing. Glowing lines were etched into her arms. The light illuminated her short blonde hair.
Oh no. Tech took stumbling steps forward. The closer he got, the more he was sure who it was. He cleared the rest of the distance between them in huge, flying strides. “Omega!”
She turned her head toward him with evident strain. Her eyes were wide and terrified. “Tech?”
Tech skidded to his knees beside her just outside the ring. She was in her undershirt and wore only one sock. The lines weren’t just on her arms. Glowing marks adorned her foot, her neck, and her face. The shining visible beneath her thin shirt indicated it covered her chest and back. Possibly her whole body. The marks looked like a garden of thorny vines.
No. Tech felt like the ground fell out from under him. They were the same markings he had been watching slowly disappear in the mirror. The ones on her left arm were oozing blood from her hand up past her elbow.
He tried to reach for her. His hand hit the pillar of light and could go no further. It was like a solid wall.
Omega grimaced. To Tech’s horror, he realized the blood was gradually spreading up her arm along the path of the vine as if she were being cut there with a knife.
“I’m sorry, Tech,” she said as a trail of tears dripped down one cheek. “You weren’t supposed to see this.”
Tech struck the wall of light with one fist. “What is happening? Why do you—? What is—?!” He was afraid he already knew. But he couldn’t put it into words.
“It’s okay,” Omega said. Even now, she tried to comfort him with a smile. “It was worth it to bring you back.”
Tech felt like he was stabbed simultaneously in the heart and in the gut. Everything made sense all at once. Why his resurrection seemed too easy. Why Omega always wore gloves. Why she asked him about his research everyday, always hoping for a different answer. He grabbed two fistfuls of sand. “And this was the price? Was this always the price?!”
Omega shrieked. A trickle of blood mingled with her tears and Tech realized one of the paths on her cheek had split open. “I d-didn’t know it at first. By the time I realized it, it was too late. I’m sorry. B-but you’ll be okay. You’ll—” She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip. The cut continued up to her temple.
Tech fumbled for his comm. He slammed the button on the side that would activate the emergency alert system he’d installed on the home console. Their brothers would receive the distress signal and the coordinates for his current location. “Hang on!” he cried. “We’ll figure this out.” He hit the force field one more time. “I can’t get to you. Can you move?”
She shook her head. “Not much. There’s too much pressure. Tech…please go home. I don’t want you to see this. I don’t want you to remember me like this.”
Tech’s already bleeding heart cracked open further. “You are not going to die! And I am not leaving!”
“I left a note on my datapad. It explains everything. Please, Tech.”
His eyes rapidly flew over the magic-induced force field. It extended up much higher than he could reach. If he couldn’t go through it and he couldn’t go over it… He scooped frantic handfuls of wet sand away from the base. Maybe he could dig down far enough to get under it. He flung sand behind and to either side of him like a canine. He quickly created a hole in the sand before him, but no matter how deep he went, the wall was still there. Still he dug. The tide washed in and filled the hole halfway before receding. His hands splashed through the water without slowing.
This couldn’t be happening. Omega couldn’t be sacrificing herself for him. She couldn’t be sitting here ready to accept an agonizing death on his behalf. Especially not when he had only just realized who she really was to him.
His body flooded with adrenaline, and his brain went into the overdrive state it often did when he was on the battlefield and needed to find a solution to a bad situation fast. What else could he do? There was no droid to be hacked. No detonator to disassemble. No precise shot to make. This was Force magic, and Tech was no jedi. What could he do against that?
A sharp sting sliced across his right pointer finger as he dug. He jerked his hand away and found a broken shard of a seashell deep inside the hole. He ripped it free and prepared to toss it away. The motion made his hand come into contact with the wall of light again.
He started when his fingers passed through. He dropped the shell shard. He pushed his hand forward. It went through the wall only up until his knuckles. Then the pressure was too great for him to proceed. His eyes blew wide. The cut on this finger began to glow. Where it was inside the wall, the line of blood on his hand shone with golden light. He could advance his hand only as far as the cut went.
He fumbled for the seashell piece. He took it into his left hand and, with no hesitation, pushed the sharp end into his skin right where the cut ended and sliced a long streak down his palm.
“Tech!” Omega cried in alarm.
But Tech had a theory to prove. He put his hand to the wall again, and this time, it went through down to the base of his palm. He could get inside the barrier as long as he was bleeding. He yanked his sleeve back, took the shell to his skin, and slashed down his arm to his elbow. He pushed his arm through the wall, his cut immediately lighting up. It was enough for him to be able to get a hold on Omega’s upper arm.
Her skin was burning. She was hotter than she had been on Eriadu. He held her above where her patterns were bleeding. He pulled back, hoping that perhaps if he could pull her out of the circle, the spell would end. He couldn’t move her. He could feel the pressure she mentioned bearing down on him. It was like it pushed everything to the center. Getting in was easy, but going back out was nearly impossible.
Then Tech noticed something else. Where he touched Omega’s skin, light crept up onto his fingers. The glowing vine pattern gradually bled away from her arm and crawled onto his hand.
Omega gasped. “Tech, let go!”
“I will not.” The marks elsewhere on her body had not changed, but where they made contact with Tech, they left her and attached to him.
“Stop!” Omega cried. “The whole reason I did this was to save you! You can’t undo that!”
Tech squeezed her arm harder. “I did not give my consent for you to trade your life for mine.”
“And I didn’t give my consent for you to die for us on Eriadu! I didn’t want you to do that!”
“I would do it again,” Tech said. “I will do it again.”
“No!” Omega attempted to pull out of his grasp, but she couldn't move more than an inch. She whimpered. A spot of red blossomed on the shoulder opposite Tech where another vine began to split open. She hung her head. “Let go, Tech. It’s not going to matter. It’s too late.”
Tech plunged the shell into the sand beside his knee, sharp side sticking up. He maneuvered his left hand against the point. It took a few tries, but he was at last able to cut a few messy streaks along his hand and arm. He reached that bleeding hand through the barrier and grasped Omega’s bare ankle. The pattern glowing there shifted on her skin as it slithered toward his fingers. “It’s never too late.”
(Excerpt from chapter 12 of my fic, The Call of the Amber Dawn. I decided to finally make an illustration for it.)
We are so lucky to have tech as a character because he can always be the voice of all the research you've done for your fic and it's totally in character.
Cannon Fodder - me_4eva - Chapter 4: Too Close To Impossible (read on AO3)
Next chapter (and the last of the pre-written chapters) of Cannon Fodder is up now! This time we've got Tech's POV, and he's starting to have some revelations about this strange mission with Krell...
Excerpt under the cut!
Tech pulled up the data he’d collected in the night on his datapad. The atmospheric composition was nothing particularly abnormal, aligning from what he’d seen from space as they approached and similarly what he’d experienced from the jump and their march the previous day. The wind speeds were higher than Tech was entirely comfortable with but nothing unexpected for a desert. The rock composition was virtually identical to the sand composition, aligning with Tech’s theory that, much like with any desert, the sedimentary rock was formed of sand compressing together and then breaking apart in the wind, forming, deforming and reforming over thousands and thousands of orbital cycles. Nothing about the data that he’d found on the planet was out of the ordinary.
Except that it wasn’t the data itself that was the problem.
The realisation shot through him as he finally understood that strange feeling in his gut when it came to Obar Major. He could accept readily enough that there were parts of the galaxy as yet unmapped. Moons of planets so far removed from anything of any value to the Republic were the backbone of the Separatist strategy – for that matter, their previous mission had taken them to a moon that had only borne relevance to the Republic long enough for the navicomputers to chart it so as to avoid it when plotting a hyperspace route.
But it had been charted.
Tech had finally pinpointed the moment in the briefing when the feeling in his stomach turned from defensive discomfort to the first stirrings of a genuine anxiety. I was not even aware that there was a planet there. And, if General Kenobi was to be believed, neither had the Grand Army of the Republic. Which encompassed not only Coruscant and the Senate, but the Jedi Order, and all their archives. Obar Major was not a new planet; the rock formations alone told him that. And the sector it resided in was well-mapped. It was difficult to believe that an entire planet here had simply remained undiscovered throughout the history of the Republic. That it had not at least been noted, especially by those charting the hyperspace lanes, was statistically too close to impossible for Tech to consider its omission from the Republic’s databanks as a mere coincidence.
But, unfortunately, that opened up far more questions, all of which had answers that opened up into fractals of their own questions and uncertainties, none of which had particularly desirable endpoints. So Tech did the only thing he could do in these situations: go over the data at hand.
Data point 1: Obar Major had been removed from the Republic files and archives.
Data point 2: Obar Major had recently been re-added to the Republic files and archives in an unofficial capacity by an intelligence source of unknown nature and origin.
Data point 3: Said intelligence source was too valuable to do anything that may reveal its existence. As such, they could not reveal that the Republic knew that Obar Major existed after Republic data on Obar Major’s existence had been erased from existence.
Resultant mission parameters: There would be no intelligence on the planet, and the GAR would not provide an extraction.
That Obar Major had, statistically, almost certainly been removed from the Republic files was what had Tech so unsettled. Someone within the Republic had likely removed it, or else its removal was a relic of a previous treason. In the latter case, the obvious candidate would be Dooku, removing it from the archives as he was considering leaving the Jedi Order and defecting to form the Separatist Alliance, so as to have a stronghold off the books within a well-mapped sector. But then why only use it as a prison? Obar Major was well-positioned, relatively close to a Republic-controlled hyperspace route to be able to cause some damage, but still far enough away that it had not been discovered accidentally by passing patrols that its existence remained secret. To relegate it to merely a prison was not strategically sound, and Tech had enough appreciation for Dooku’s tactical nous to understand that this was too poor a decision for him to make. But if not Dooku who had removed Obar Major from the systems, then who? And how had it been so protected that it had taken this clandestine intelligence source to discover its existence? This intelligence source that was so valuable that nothing could possibly be done to jeopardise its cover…
No. That wasn’t quite right.
Data point 3 (amended): They had been told that said intelligence source was too valuable to do anything that may reveal its existence. However, without data on the intelligence source, this was impossible to verify.
Well, that opened up some new possibilities.
Assuming Obar Major had been removed from Republic databases prior to the war by someone treasonous, hoping to give the Separatists a secret stronghold, it was… not impossible that the intelligence about its existence had come from the same treasonous source. This conclusion did align more with a feeling in Tech’s gut that had settled as soon as he’d looked at the mission. He knew he was not alone in this – Cody had showcased behaviour that demonstrated that the commander had a similar bad feeling about this mission. Everything about it felt… wrong – more than simply not knowing the nature of the intelligence they were recovering. They’d done missions in the dark before, but this was another level. Everything about it, from the lack of extraction to the fact they’d gone in completely blind to be dropped three hundred klicks away from their target, that they’d been sent with a Jedi with no experience in this type of operation, even the fact that they couldn’t take the Marauder… all of it screamed to Tech that this mission had been set up to make it as difficult as possible.
A while back I posted requests for Tech expressions. Those requests are finally getting done! Today's requests are: Tech smiling, Tech smiling at Phee at the end of Pabu, and Tech's reaction at Tay-O destruction 2.0.
They were requested by Jelly-opal, BatBatchBitch, Horseshoecrabmom, sithmich22, and fpsylla
Cannon Fodder - me_4eva - Chapter 3: Whatever It Takes (read on AO3)
Chapter 3 of my fic where the Bad Batch have to team up with Krell on a prisoner extraction is up, this time featuring Hunter's POV as their mission gets underway... Excerpt under the cut!
Obar Major was surprisingly cold for a desert planet. The wind whipped around them, blowing Hunter’s hair across his face as it chilled him to his bones. Not for the first time, he felt slightly envious of Tech’s goggles as he squinted against the sand that battered against every inch of his skin in a constant irritation, continuously trying to find its way into his eyes. Still, he needed to take his helmet off for this.
His hand was flat against the surface of a rock near where they’d landed, the only truly solid surface that posed a realistic option for him as he felt the electromagnetic vibrations around the planet. The sand could have worked, but the sensations would be dulled, hazy, less in-focus. And given how blind they were about this planet, that was not a risk Hunter was willing to take.
The rock he’d chosen did, at least, connect to a lower crust of rock that went deep below the sand on the surface. There were canyons and valleys throughout the desert, a rocky landscape covered in sand with geological strata that told of a long weathered history of the planet, features gouged and ripped into the planet by what minimal tectonic activity there was, the occasional storm carving its own mark, and the sandy winds weathering the sharp edges away and moulding it into something that a certain class of poet would undoubtedly find beauty and inspiration in. However, what was less clear were any signs of life. This planet was, there was no other word for it: desolate.
He felt for hollows beneath the surface, water, springs – yes, hot springs – below the surface – that would be promising –
There was a certain class of plant life that Hunter could sense in the desert, more akin to cacti than anything else, and within the springs that were buried in the planet’s crust, he could sense some form of algae and fungi, but that seemed to be the limit of life. Hunter tried to feel for any sense of movement, any sense of – well, anything – in the planet beyond the gentle vibrations of the planet’s tectonic movement. He felt for the water of the hot springs, felt the way it bubbled –
There!
A gentle thrumming, different and significantly more prominent than anything else on (or in) the surface of the planet, perhaps because it was so familiar. The movement of electricity, far away from them, at a distance Hunter felt slightly daunted at the possibility of relaying to the others. Although his squad had gone further on foot for missions, there was something about the trek through the desert, with minimal opportunities for shelter and conditions that Hunter did not need his enhanced senses to be able to tell were going to be harsh, that he knew would make his already irritable brothers undoubtedly grumpy. Which, in Crosshair’s case, was not going to be fun, especially with the factor (and outlet) of General Krell. Hm. Perhaps he could send Crosshair on scouting missions.
He straightened up, looking around to the others. Wrecker was still looking faintly green as he perched on a rock, a canteen of water in his hands, and despite his earlier words about not wishing to crowd him, Crosshair was stood next to him at a distance that anyone would deem ‘comfortably within Wrecker’s personal space’. Tech was still busy taking Wrecker’s parachute apart, narrating his findings and thoughts to anyone who would listen, which was evidently not the General, despite the latter’s proximity to the former.
“I’ve got an idea of where this prison is,” he announced. “Tech, I’m gonna need to cross-reference your scans from the jump, but the prison is… not exactly close.”
Krell folded one set of arms as he straightened up, looking over at Hunter. “CT-Nine-Nine-Zero-One, what exactly do you mean by ‘not exactly close’?”
“That typically means it’s far away,” Crosshair said, less under his breath than Hunter would have liked. Clearly, he was still smarming over Krell’s insult in the briefing about his own linguistic comprehension.
Krell spared Crosshair a disapproving glare before turning back to Hunter. “Be exact, Sergeant.”
Hunter rubbed the back of his neck as he sighed. “Almost three hundred klicks.”
Three helmets and one pair of yellow eyes snapped towards him. Both Krell’s and Tech’s eyes were wide, and he could imagine that was true of the two pairs of eyes he couldn’t see.
“Wish I was,” Hunter muttered ruefully. “But we’ve gone further-”
“In a desert?” Crosshair said icily.
Hunter spared Crosshair a flat look as he replaced his helmet. “You can file a complaint with Cody when we get out of here. We knew we were going in blind, part of the deal is that we weren’t likely to land anywhere useful.”
“Yeah, but there’s blind an’ then there’s this,” Wrecker chimed in. “Three hundred klicks across a desert-”
“Should not be a problem for clones,” Krell cut in imperiously. “And I expect this to take as little time as possible, so in the interests of minimising Officer Bragg’s imprisonment, move out!”
Despite the order, only Krell began to move. Hunter saw the other three look at Krell as he took a few steps. Tech’s eyebrows pinched together as his eyes looked incredulously from Krell to Crosshair to Wrecker before at last landing on Hunter, only the barest hint of outrage visible that told the story of their most measured brother’s hackles raising. Not that Hunter could entirely blame him – the derisive way the word ‘clones’ had been spat at them made Hunter feel an odd camaraderie that he’d never before felt towards the regs, a fraternity he’d only ever felt with the three brothers in his company in the face of bullying by the same regs they had now been lumped in with. The sentiment was clearly shared by the others, who similarly looked to each other before looking to Hunter.
“Was I unclear?” Krell was clearly even less impressed than before by the lack of action. “I said move out!”
Another beat as the three of them looked towards Hunter, who finally nodded. Tech’s eyebrows raised as he bent to pick up the last of his debris of tools, an attitude clearly shared by the other two who were not in any hurry to gather their things and follow Krell. Hunter held in a sigh as he turned to look at Krell –
Whose eyes were locked on him in a glare of menacing anger. No – more than anger – it was – it was hatred. There was something in Krell’s eyes that sent a shiver of fear up his spine, something like a Nexu rounding on a Tooka. A sense of threat that Hunter couldn’t shake –
Or perhaps a Nexu facing down a Rancor.
Hunter held Krell’s gaze, looking to him for some sign of movement, some instruction to follow, before Wrecker’s own helmet turned to face Hunter, snagging his attention away. Hunter looked over at the querying head tilt, which was enough for Krell to turn his back on Hunter and lead the way down the sandy slope and into the abyss. Hunter glanced around at his squad – Wrecker, still looking at Hunter for an answer, Tech, shouldering his pack ready to follow, and Crosshair, rifle in hand, glowering at Krell’s back. With a wordless nod, he led the rest of his squad after the Besalisk.
I took some small creative liberties with his armor design! Now that I am seeing them side by side I am being overly critical of myself… Anyway I know I haven’t fed yall in a bit so here ya go!!
Ok but the body swap tech / crosshair the other way - tech in cross’ body like I CAN SEE EVERYTHING and cross’ in tech taking his googles off like WHY IS EVERYTHING BLURRY I DONT UNDERSTAND
Sorry I had this ask stored for months
Crosshair is mad for Tech
and
Well Tech is seeing colors at this point
When they swap back Crosshair describes everything, and Tech explains their functions. (Though Tech can see fine with goggles he likes listening to Crosshair's voice. He's not poetic. At all, only dry but honest. Tech loves it.)
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