Chapter Text
Tech brought in a vial of water a week ago, and you’ve been carefully growing and curating the microbial specimens. Today is the day that you’ve been waiting for– it’s time to test the retrovirus product in the first of three trials.
Tech worked out the species identification two days ago, so you know it contains the Sambellosis microbe and a healthy array of other lifeforms. Ideally, adding the retrovirus will kill off the Sambellosis bacterium, leaving the others unharmed, and if this small scale test worked, it’ll be safe to use on the large scale.
You’re hunched over at the lab table, Tech squatting next to you, Omega kneeling on the floor. Echo’s pretending not to be interested, but you know he’s hovering by the door.
You add the single drop of solution, mixed to contain three hundred thousand retroviruses. You sit back, leg bouncing with anxiety. Omega hops up to go tell Hunter, and Tech takes your hand. You smile at him, grateful for his steady presence. This is the first test, and you don’t know what to expect.
You rub your thumb across his hand, and watch the timer tick.
Things have been going better with him. You’ve been taking things very slowly, but it’s paying off. You’ve taken up to helping him with repairs, wanting to learn more from him, but also accepting the benefit of quality time that the mechanical lessons provide. He’s seemingly pleased by this, his reserved expression breaking into a lopsided grin the past couple days when he sees you approach him with the tool kit.
You steady your resolve. Slowly but surely. I owe that much to him.
The timer dings, pulling you to the present. You step out of the chair, allowing Tech to smear the fluid across a slide and pushing it into place under the microscope. He’s better at identification than you.
He leans and peers through the scope, and you bend down to drop a kiss to the top of his head.
You tap your toe, but then stop. Hunter can probably hear that. Fidgeting with your fingers, you stare at the ceiling and wait.
Finally, Tech looks up, a grin on his face. “There are no living Sambellosis microbes.”
You let out a stupid little squeal, hopping up and down. You pull him up and yank him into your arms, and he laughs, and h is eyes are sparkling, coppery and warm.
Omega runs in, dragging Hunter and Wrecker. Tech holds up a finger, beginning his report.
___________
Hunter’s in the cockpit, planning with Echo, Tech, and Wrecker. Omega’s with the other little girl, Hera, their higher tones adding into the mix. You’re in the lab, checking a second small-scale sample, listening to the boys' voices as they float through the open door.
You don’t like this mission.
Ryloth is too heavily guarded. Hunter’s got a point, you can’t help every person that you find in the galaxy, and even worse, there’s imperials.
Even worse, there’s Crosshair.
His name sends ice through your veins, something freezing over in your stomach at the notion of being near him again. No.
Hunter’s mentioning your name now, and you step out to lean against the doorframe, listening to your part of the plan. Okay. You can do this.
The batch breaks apart, everyone moving to gear up for their respective roles. You return to the lab bench, cleaning up the solutions you’d left out and re-clipping the notes.
Tech approaches behind you. You turn to him, smiling, but his expression is serious.
He digs through the leather pouch on his right side, pulling out a chain and dangling it out to you. You frown, accepting it.
“The pendant saved your life from a shot before, and who knows what we may encounter. For peace of mind, I’d prefer you wear it,” Tech tells you, his expression unreadable.
“Okay,” you say, your voice cautious.
He begins to turn to walk to the cockpit, but you reach out, catching him with a hand to his vambrace. “Stay safe, Tech,” your eyes meet his.
He dips his chin, turning to walk to the Marauder’s cockpit, shoulders a bit straighter.
____________
The plan begins.
Minutes tick by. The canons aren’t down. They should be down by now.
He adjusts his goggles. She’s highly capable, as is Omega. Hera seems to be competent, there should not be issues.
There’s not much time left. He presses the comm button on his vambrace. “Omega, has Chopper deactivated the perimeter canons?”
Omega crackles back in. “No, but we’re working on it, just don’t shoot down our shuttle.”
Alarm bells ring in his mind. “Wait, what shuttle?!”
Her voice crackles back over the comms this time. “Don’t worry, trooper, we’ve got our side of the plan covered,” she says, something like humor in her voice.
Blasts of red and orange burst from the ground below, and Wrecker cheers. “Omega, I’m registering multiple explosions near the refinery,” he states.
“Yep, that was us! Canons are down,” she confirms.
Her voice chimes in. “Wrecker, you’re up.”
Tech’s panic melts away, hearing that her and his little sister are safe, for the time being. “Hang on,” he calls to Wrecker, then floors the thrusters, and the ship hums as it whizzes down. He disengages, and twists the control wheel to port side, the ship jerking into position. Wrecker hollers as he fires on the refinery, great plumes of smoke rising from his successful shots. Just as the swing is complete, Tech drops the clutch back in, and the Marauder takes off.
He sees a shuttle coming his way, swerving wildly, and takes evasive action to avoid a crash. “Your dangerous and uncontrollable maneuvering is as confusing to them as it is to us,” he grits out, and he hears the soaring laughters from the three girls over the comm in response.
Imperial fighters are on their tails. Tech works double time, attempting to take out the ships targeting the vessel that contains the children and you.
“Tech, we have alternative transport. Meet at the rendezvous,” Hunter calls.
“Gladly,” Tech affirms, wincing as one of the imperial fighters comes a little too close for comfort.
Thankfully, the rest of the mission goes off without any hitches, according to Hunter’s debrief from his side of the fight from inside the capitol.
Tech leans back in the chair, the blue of hyperspace keeping him from watching anyone’s face, thanking his lucky stars they escaped from their fallen brother, once again unscathed. Echo’s complaining about some Seppie nonsense again, and he resists the urge to throw in a dry comment about the obviousness of the situation.
“Captain Howzer was unaffected by the inhibitor chip, or he somehow had it removed,” Hunter describes.
Tech perks up at this information.
Echo shakes his head. “There was no scar,” he says.
Tech tilts his head in thought, spinning the chair to face the others. Interesting…
Hunter’s voice drops, a habit he’s picked up when he’s revealing a piece of information he doesn’t want Omega to hear. His brothers and the scientist lean closer. “Crosshair fired on us as we flew Senator Taa’s ship,” he discloses.
Wrecker frowns, Echo shakes his head, and out of the corner of his eye, Tech sees a wary look on your face. Crosshair. Tech focuses on her, watching every move.
“There were four shots. They all went wide,” Hunter says, his tone gravelly.
None of the rest of them speak.
Gradually, his brothers drift away, cleaning their armor, grabbing a ration, hitting the fresher.
Tech remains in the cockpit with her, her face downturned.
“What does this mean?” she asks, voice fragile.
“I am not certain. Perhaps his chip has been removed or otherwise lost functionality,” he says.
She frowns. “We’d all hoped the chip had been causing this behavior,” she says.
He watches her fingers drum against her knee. “I had been unsure of his state after Bracca, but his survival is confirmed,” he adds.
She nods. “Even after everything he’s put us through, I didn’t want him to die,” she mutters. “At least he missed.”
Tech sighs. “I return the sentiment,” he offers.
She stands, pacing down the short hallway, continuing on past his room. “Where are you headed?” he calls.
She turns. “Um, to my bunk,” she calls, pitch raising at the end as if she was asking a question.
He blinks twice. “I had been under the impression you would stay with me tonight, but please inform me if you intentions lie elsewhere,” he replies, unhappy with the clipped tone of his voice.
She lights up, smiling his favorite smile and his heart thuds in his chest. “I’d be happy to,” she replies.
It takes time before the two of them are cleaned up from the shootout, changed out of armor, and crawling under the blankets, but the wait is worth it when he turns to his side, reaching an arm out for her.
“Is this okay?” she whispers.
He hums in approval, and she scooches up against his side, rolling to face him. She throws an arm around his torso and buries her forehead into his shoulder. Warmth blooms down his spine, and pleasant sensations tickle through his chest.
She reaches up to her neck, pulling the necklace off, then pouring it into his hands, closing his fingers around it. “I don’t want to wear it anymore,” she says. “It feels wrong with his signet on it. You have a good point, and I’ll wear it during missions as a piece of armor, but I don’t want any reminders of him,” she says, eyebrows scrunched together.
He can’t ignore the way his heart lights up at her last statement. She’s showing her hand, figuratively putting her cards on the table. Crosshair was there today, and she was unaffected. Throughout the ordeal, she only had eyes for Tech, and to be honest, it had not once crossed his mind that she’d been shaken by Crosshair’s presence.
Maybe, just maybe, things are going right .
Maybe she really does want him for him, and maybe taking a risk has paid off. Maybe they’ll save the galaxy from the common cold together, and maybe she’ll learn how to repair a hyperdrive someday. Maybe they can make something even more amazing together, just the two of them in this bed.
Tech allows himself to feel hope.
He turns to her, leaning down a little bit, lips searching. When he finds hers, his eyes slide closed in satisfaction, and she’s everything soft and safe and gentle, exactly what he longs for after the stress of the day.