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It was supposed to be a silly game. After all, they should’ve been satisfied with the answer of “you’re all my favorites!” But as many times as Omega had said that particular line, it never satisfied her brigade of big brothers.
Especially not now, when she burst into the Marauder near tears.
Immediately the Bad Batch turned into the Very Concerned Brigade of Big Brothers as Omega came to a stop by the cockpit, looking at all of them with almost-wet eyes. “Who broke Gonky?” she burst out before anyone could ask her what was wrong.
Their expressions turned from concern to confusion. Tech was quick to speak up. “Who broke Gonky?”
“He’s not turning on.” Omega sniffed. “But he was working fine yesterday! He was! Can’t you fix him?”
There was a beat of silence in which everyone but Hunter was fixated on the worried little girl. Hunter, in fact, was darting his eyes to every one of his brothers.
“Abso lutely,” he suddenly said after a few seconds of suspenseful silence, jumping up very quickly. “I’ll have him fixed in no time, ‘Mega.”
“Wait, but -” Tech also jumped up in confusion. “But I’m probably the one with the most mechanical and engineering experience, Hunter -”
Something dawned in Echo’s eyes. He faced Hunter with an accusing look. “I can’t believe you.”
“What?” Hunter said innocently. He grabbed the space tool that was closest to his hand, frowned, then dropped it onto the desk and picked up the wrench instead. “How hard can it be to fix Gonky?”
“Well, for one thing, that’s the completely wrong tool,” Tech snapped, snatching the wrench out of Hunter’s hands. “The one you picked up first is used to loosen the screws of the control panel, which is necessary if you want to get to the root of the problem, but -” He caught Echo sneaking a hand towards the tool Hunter had first picked up.
Then it clicked.
“But I,” Tech announced, grabbing the correct tool that he could easily fix Gonky with first, “am going to get to the root of the problem first. Move over.”
“Absolutely not,” Hunter snapped. “You move over.”
“I have the most experience with mechanical engineering, Hunter -”
“I can figure it out fast enough -”
Omega watched as the Bad Batch dissolved into chaos with wide, tearful eyes. Gonky still wasn’t fixed, and now they were all fighting , why couldn’t they just work to gether? Why wasn’t Cid here to tell them to stop fighting?
“Don’t worry, Omega,” Wrecker said earnestly, leaning down and clapping both of his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll get Gonky fixed up for you in no time!”
Hunter’s head whipped around at the sound of Wrecker’s voice. “Don’t you dare!”
Aaaaand now Wrecker was pulled into the chaos. Omega deflated a little as Wrecker joined the argument, and she slumped into one of the pilot seats with a frown. Out of peripheral vision, she noticed Crosshair slinking in the direction of the chaos.
She let out a little sigh. There went Crosshair.
“If only my scomp was sharp enough to loosen those screws,” Echo mumbled.
“I’ll loosen your screws if you fix him first,” Wrecker demanded.
Hunter threw his hands up into the air. “That wasn’t even a good insult! Now let me have space to fix GONKY -”
“I call my desk!” Tech said quickly, running over and shielding his desk like someone was about to throw a grenade in its direction and destroy all of his precious inventions and mathematical scribbles and whatnot.
“I get the cockpit,” Echo said defensively.
Wrecker sat down, crossing his arms. “I call this space,” he said, jabbing a finger onto the ship’s ground, “right here.”
Hunter growled in frustration. The only times anyone had ever heard him growl was so few they could count it on one hand, so most of them visibly flinched. “Then where do I -”
Beep.
Gonky spluttered back to life.
Silence shot through the four like a bullet from Crosshair’s sniper gun. Because it was Crosshair - he stood up from screwing Gonky’s control panel back into place, wiping the dust and hard work off his hands. Gonky made a noise and then turned around in a circle.
He had fixed Gonky.
Before the others had time to react, there was a loud, excited gasp from the cockpit. And then Omega was running as fast as she could from her seat over to Gonky and threw her arms around Crosshair.
“You did it!” she burst out, her eyes squeezed shut with happiness. “You fixed Gonky, Crosshair - thank you!”
“Of course, kid,” Crosshair said endearingly, leaning down again to hug her back. He could feel the stony-faced glares of the others as he patted her head and hugged her extra tightly. “I’m glad he’s fixed.”
He could feel their Looks, alright. Because, in the middle of embracing the sunshine child, he opened his eyes and shot his brothers the smuggest smile they’d ever seen.
I win.
~
They’d get over it. Of course they would. What a silly thing to fight for, trying to fix Gonky first so they could be Omega’s favorite- favorite. Surely all the attention she was giving Crosshair would only last until the next day, right?
Wrong.
The next day was Market Day. Which meant they all put their heads together and made a list of things they were low on or needed to buy or were out of at all, the Marauder was parked on a planet, and they found a nice sizable market in which they could most likely find the things on their list.
They always split up into groups to find everything on the list. Echo paired up with Wrecker, Tech and Crosshair hunted down supplies together, and Omega usually stuck with Hunter.
Usually.
Today - they had been too tired to find a new market on a different planet, so they stuck with a market on the other side of Ord Mantell - Hunter turned towards Omega, ready to have her cling to him and spend some father-daughter bonding time together while they bought supplies (and a few more things that caught Omega’s eye) . . . only to hear her announce, “I’ll go with Crosshair!”
Hunter’s eyes narrowed.
“Excellent,” Crosshair said, putting an arm around Omega. She beamed. “Send me a copy of the list, Tech.”
Tech very reluctantly did so. When Hunter was forced to process the fact that Omega wanted to go with good old Crosshair instead because he had fixed Gonky yesterday, he caught Omega slipping her hand into Crosshair’s and already pointing out her newest cool find in the marketplace.
“I’m going to strangle him,” Hunter muttered under his breath.
“If you desire to choke our brother until he suffocates from lack of air, then do it away from me,” Tech said, annoyed.
Then he paused.
Then he frowned.
“I also would very much like to suffocate him,” he finally mumbled.
Wrecker grumbled something that sounded like welcome to the club and crossed his arms.
“Can’t last that long." Echo tried to reassure them, but he had the same stormy expression as the others. “Let’s go find those supplies and get this over with.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Tech said, pushing his goggles up his nose. “Come along, Hunter.”
The four split into two pairs and went their separate ways. Tech handed Hunter a space shopping bag as he himself found the things they needed, paid for them, and dropped them into the bag. This went on for a while before Hunter spoke again.
“I can’t believe he fixed Gonky.”
Tech paused, thinking for a moment. Then he let out an annoyed sigh.
“Well,” he said, “now that I think about it, he most likely used all of us arguing as a distraction that enabled him to fix Gonky without any of us knowing. Or Omega, for that matter.”
“It is not our fault Crosshair beat us,” Hunter defended. “It’s his fault that we lost. Besides -” he grabbed a jar of - what was this? He sniffed it - space paprika and handed it to Tech. “- Omega’ll be over him after we get back to the Marauder. You’ll see.”
“Yes,” Tech mumbled, sliding the jar of paprika across the market stall, right over to the Twi’lek lady who was running it. “Let’s hope so . . . excuse me, miss, how many credits do you require for us to purchase this jar?”
“He means how much does it cost,” Hunter jumped in.
Tech swiveled around to glare at him. “Do not make me feel like I want to suffocate you, too, Hunter.”
The sudden snort of laughter from the store vendor startled them. “Five credits,” the Twi’lek said, sounding vaguely amused.
Tech rummaged around in his backpack, pulled out five credits, and then stopped.
He stared at the Twi’lek with curiosity. “Excuse me for asking, but I just noticed you have Mirialan markings,” he said, finally handing her the credits. “Do you have Mirialan and Twi’lek parents?”
The Twi’lek-Miralan blinked. Then she nodded, accepted the credits, and dropped them into a box. “Yes, I do,” she said, shutting the box. She reached down and slid it under her stall. “Most people don’t notice it right away.”
There was a beat.
“So what brings you to this market?” she quickly said.
“Market Day,” Tech replied simply. “Where we devise a list of things we’re currently in need of, find a market, and purchase supplies.”
“Grocery trip, basically,” Hunter said.
“And do you . . .” The Twi’lek raised an eyebrow. “. . . always joke about suffocating each other?”
Hunter made a noise that sounded like a laugh mixed with a sudden coughing fit.
“It’s more common than you think, actually,” Tech said. Behind him, Hunter coughed again before he composed himself. “It’s simply harmless teasing. Most of the time.”
“Most of the time?” the Twi’lek teased. “What could possibly make you want to actually suffocate your brothers?”
“You’d be surprised,” Tech admitted. She chuckled a little at his response. “We have a . . .” He paused. “A younger sister with a considerable age gap between us, and one of our brothers is her favorite for the day.”
“Ah, of course.” She nodded seriously, resting her elbows on her stall table. “And you’re all annoyed at this, I’m assuming.”
“Oh, yes, very.”
“Sounds like a chaotic family,” the Twi’lek-Mirialan said offhandedly. She had started to trace the wood patterns on her stall table with her fingers. Tech eyed the action with a curiosity, but then she seemed to compose herself and straightened.
She held out a hand. “I’m Amara, by the way,” she said. “Amara Avandé.”
“Excellent to meet you,” he said, “I’m Tech.”
He took her hand and shook it. Amara’s grasp seemed to linger just a bit longer than normal . . . suddenly she flushed and quickly let go of his hand.
And then Hunter intervened and shattered the moment.
“Hello, I’m Hunter,” he interrupted, swiping the paprika jar from the stall table. “Very nice to meet you, Amara. Unfortunately Tech and I have a long list of stuff to buy, so . . . hope you have a good day.” He gripped the jar, put his free hand on Tech’s shoulder, and steered him away from the stall.
“She was lovely to converse with,” Tech remarked. There was a slight smile on his face. “I’ve never met someone with Twi’lek and Mirialan parents before. It’s a fascinating hybrid.”
“Me neither,” Hunter said distractedly, focused on finding the next thing on their list. Bread? Was it bread? “What’s the next thing on the list?”
“I do wonder if she grows her own herbs and spices,” Tech mused. “She could make a profitable business if she did - I’m sure whatever she grows tastes exquisite.”
Well, this was an experience. Hunter grabbed the datapad out of Tech’s hands and looked at the list himself. He’d been right; it was bread.
Tech still hadn’t stopped talking about Amara and her herb-and-spice stall. “Home-grown plants and herbs are statistically proven to taste better,” he continued. “Healthier, too. It might be good to go the more natural food route for Omega.”
Hunter dragged Tech over to a stall selling loaves of space bread and handed the stall owner a handful of credits. “The paprika we bought will probably taste just like all the other paprika we’ve bought, Tech.”
“But we haven’t tasted it yet,” Tech said impatiently. “Healthy and natural food is important for a growing child’s diet, you know.”
Somehow Hunter knew this wasn't about Omega anymore. He made up his mind in about two seconds.
“Here,” he said, shoving the shopping bags in Tech’s arms. He stuffed the newly-bought bread loaves into the bag. “Change of plans. You carry the groceries and I’ll take charge of the list.”
Tech blinked in surprise, baffled. “What are you doing? This change in the routine is completely unexpected -”
“Yeah, so is Omega going with Crosshair,” Hunter said. “You can’t focus on the list. I’ll handle it.”
“I can’t focus on the list?” Tech looked offended. “What in the galaxy is that supposed to mean?”
Hunter dragged a hand over his face and then contemplated why today had been the day Omega had chosen to go with Crosshair. Of all days. “Amara happened,” he finally said. “Let’s get the milk.”
~
They were almost to the end of the list when Hunter realized they hadn’t bought paprika from Amara at all - they had accidentally grabbed crushed red pepper flakes.
“It’s a very common mistake,” Tech pointed out, taking the jar out of Hunter’s hand. “Paprika looks similar to crushed red pepper flakes. I’ll go back and buy the proper spice.”
“You?” Hunter said before he could stop himself.
Tech gave him a puzzled look. “Yes?”
There was a beat of silence.
“Nevermind.” Hunter turned around and shoved the jar of crushed red pepper flakes into Tech’s hands. “Good luck. Tell me what happens.”
“I’m not sure why you’d want to hear the process of exchanging goods, but I’ll try my best to remember it.”
Hunter shook his head, already walking towards the next thing on the shopping list.
~
It took a while for Tech to weave his way through the market and find Amara’s stall again, but when he emerged from the bustle of the center of the market, he found Amara had her box of credits out again and was exchanging credits for a jar of herbs with another customer. She was clearly in the middle of a conversation, but that didn’t stop her from noticing Tech.
“Back again so soon?” she teased when it was his turn.
“Apologies, but we meant to buy paprika,” Tech explained, adjusting his goggles. “You don’t happen to have it in stock, do you?”
She blinked in surprise, flushing. “Oh! Uhm, I’m sure I have some paprika jars still left . . . hold on . . .” Amara ducked down and started rummaging through something. She reemerged less than a minute later, a jar of paprika in hand.
Tech immediately reached for a handful of credits from one of his belt pouches. “Excellent, I -”
“Oh, no, it’s on me!” Amara interrupted. “You don’t have to pay. You’ve got a big family, so -”
“We’re not low in the financial area, don’t worry,” Tech said, clearly puzzled. “It’s customary to pay for things -”
“It’s on me,” Amara repeated, and then she hesitated - for a split second - before shoving the paprika jar into his hands. “Really. I won’t accept credits.”
Tech just stared at her. She held his gaze, looking unsure but determined to not let him pay. There was a fleeting thought, in the back of Tech’s mind, that he should insist on paying for the paprika anyway because it was the right thing to do, of course, but . . . he was just now noticing her eyes. And how pretty they were. And how they shined like two pools of space amber with flecks of gold and brown swimming around in it and how they were so -
“Um.” Tech was sure that the weather had somehow gotten warmer since he returned to get paprika. “If . . . you insist, I suppose . . .”
Amara straightened, her face flushed again. “You, um . . . have a good day.”
“You too,” Tech mumbled, turning away from the stand -
“And if you come back to the market, make sure to stop by!” she called out from behind him.
He didn’t want to tell her that they often “market-hopped” on Market Days, hopping from one planet’s market to the next. It wouldn’t matter too much if they couldn’t come back, right? So why was his heart beating fast at the thought of coming back to see Amara again?
Tech shook his head to clear his mind and started finding his way back to Hunter. He’d probably just been standing up for too long. Maybe the weather really had grown warmer. Or maybe . . .
Suddenly it clicked. He slowed to a stop.
He . . . liked Amara, didn’t he?
Was that why the day had gotten warmer for no reason? And why he couldn’t stop thinking about Amara’s eyes, either? What was he supposed to do? How on earth was he supposed to process this information??
He very quickly resumed his pace and tried to look for Hunter harder.
He reached Hunter faster than the time it took him to find his way back to Amara’s stall again. Hunter turned to look at him, surveyed him for a long minute, and then briefly adjusted his bag before speaking.
“You figured it out, didn’t you?” he said.
“Just take them,” Tech mumbled, shoving the jars into Hunter’s hands.
“Right.” Hunter patted Tech’s shoulder with a teasing smile. “Let’s go back to the others.”
By the time the Bad Batch all regrouped at the start of the market, Wrecker was holding several large boxes while Echo checked to make sure they had everything; Omega was riding piggyback-style on Crosshair, who had their bag of supplies; and Tech was unnervingly silent as he and Hunter caught up with the group.
“. . . and I think that’s it,” Echo finished, scanning the list on his holo device. He shut it down when he saw the others arriving. “You two are late. What happened?”
“Grabbed the wrong herbs,” Hunter said nonchalantly.
The others seemed to buy it. Echo raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t question it, and they all started the somewhat long trek back to the Marauder.
~
Omega’s clinginess to Crosshair wore off slowly on the third day after Gonky had been fixed, much to Crosshair’s disappointment (and to the others’ relief). Of course she reminded them that they were all her favorites, and of course they brushed that aside and hugged her anyway. (And, of course, the silly rivalry between them hadn’t ended anyway.)
A week later, Tech brought up the fact that that market was very nice, actually, and maybe they had found a market to shop regularly at. It was convenient that it was on Ord Mantell, too. Wrecker, Omega, and Crosshair nodded in agreement.
Hunter and Echo weren’t convinced.
“So this is about finding a market that we all like too much to part with,” Hunter said lightly, as they all lounged around in the Marauder after a tiring afternoon of non-stop activity. “And not because you want to see Amara again.”
Wrecker and Crosshair, who had both been bored a second ago and had not known about Amara until now, suddenly looked exceedingly interested in the conversation.
“Who’s Amara?” Omega piped up from her spot on the floor next to Echo.
Wrecker’s eyes sparkled with mischieviousness. “Yeah, Tech, who’s Amara?”
“Please,” Crosshair said, leaning forward, “do tell.”
As they were talking, Tech had grown steadily more and more red until he crossed his arms and mumbled something about how the market had been pleasant and that was it.
“You still haven’t answered our questions, dork,” Crosshair said. He took the ever-present toothpick out of his mouth and rolled it between his fingers. “I would very much like to learn who this Amara person is and I’m very sure Wrecker and Omega will explode if you don’t tell us.”
“We bought paprika from a very nice herb-and-market stall,” said Hunter matter-of-factly. He leaned back in his seat even further. “That was run by a very nice Twi’lek lady.”
Wrecker and Omega gasped in unison. Crosshair’s eyes shone dangerously with this new information.
“So that’s why you two were late,” Echo said, sounding amused.
Omega hopped up from the floor and leaned over the side of Tech’s chair, bouncing up and down. “Do you like her?”
“What’s she like?” Wrecker said excitedly. “Is she pretty?”
For once, Tech looked at a loss for words. And still very red. “I . . . er, she’s -”
“There’s your answer.” Crosshair folded his arms, smirking. “Obviously he likes her.”
Tech seemed to collect himself by very awkwardly pushing his goggles up his nose and folding his hands on the table. “In the chance I do . . . um . . . feel some sort of attraction towards Amara . . . do I possibly want to know your reactions?”
“Absolutely,” Wrecker said at the same time Echo rolled his eyes and said, “No.”
“You don’t, but we do. You know what.” Crosshair jabbed his toothpick in the air. “I think I like that market, too, Hunter. Let’s go there again.”
“Hey, you only like it because you usually go with Tech!” Wrecker complained.
“We’re not even low on spices!” Tech protested. “There’s a very minimal chance that we’ll have to go back to Amara’s stall at all on our next -”
“Can I help you make dinner, Echo?” Omega interrupted, her eyes shining. She was already reaching for Tech’s datapad to type something on it. “What kind of recipes use a lot of spices? We should make a ton of food this month with spices.”
“- unless you’re this family,” Tech mumbled, sinking deeper into his seat.
For the second time in two weeks, Hunter patted Tech’s shoulder sympathetically. “They just want to meet Amara,” he said, but his eyes shined just like Omega’s did. “Guess we finally have a favorite-favorite market.”