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Through the Static

Summary:

Static doesn’t mean silence. It means interference.

 

And if he breaks, they die.

Notes:

  • Inspired by a deleted work

**A humble remix of “Cross the Line” by Star_Wing.**

The whump is rampant, as is the TLC afterward. Crosshair is a right bastard in this but—as always, with him—it’s complicated.

Tipping my hat to @Star_Wing for creating this story and then allowing me to festoon it with extra ideas. It was a helpful and fun way to ease back into writing fanfics after taking a break from it for many years.

Thank you, Star_Wing!
🎩🤏

Chapter 1: Unseen

Summary:

Echo just wants to take a nice, peaceful walk through nature.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Typically, Echo doesn't mind staying behind during supply runs. He knows he attracts much more attention than any of his brothers tend to do. This can make him more vulnerable and more of a liability outside controlled environments.

And yes, Wrecker often draws impressed or fearful glances. But a person like Echo, with his extensive cybernetic modifications, is usually more than just a curiosity to most. On primitive systems—with neither the exposure to technology so advanced nor the progress made in medicinal fields—he can quickly capture the attention of the entire population. And for a squad of outlaw clone commandos trying to fly under the Empire’s radar, this is simply unacceptable.

Yet after a difficult mission and lengthy stint of space travel, Echo longs for an escape from the confines of their ship. When it’s not ideal to venture out among the population, Echo takes to nature to breathe fresh air and walk on natural earth. He enjoys simply basking in the organic tranquility of whatever the system has to offer.

The other members of the Batch understand it. After what Echo had been through with the Techno Union, they know it's therapeutic for their older brother to relax in this way. And Hunter, ever sensitive to each of his squadmates’ personal needs, always encourages these walks if it's safe.

 

Alora is a small, peaceful planet in the Outer Rim and not yet polluted by the Empire’s totalitarian control. It’s a beautiful terrestrial world blanketed by lush forests and vast meadows woven with lazy streams. It has bright flowers of all shapes and colors. Much of the terrain consists of long, rolling, vivid green chains of hills that are wonderfully picturesque against a clear, azure sky.

Alora still enjoys isolation from galactic politics, and its native sentients are prosperous, self-sufficient, and modernized. As such, the Batch decides it’s a safe destination for a decent supply run.

They’d all recently spent more than sixty standard hours in hyperspace. When they finally land in a spaceport near a bustling market in the city of Karot, Echo approaches Hunter to ask permission for some personal time.

“Hunter?” Echo hedges. “Mind if I take a walk? I’d like to stretch my legs and decompress for a bit. Only if you don’t need me for anything right now, that is.”

“Of course, Echo,” Hunter regards him warmly, with a hand on his shoulder. “Tech’s gonna stay with the ship. Says he’ll be busy with gear upgrades and a minor nav calibration, but that he’ll keep a steady lookout and monitor our comms channels.”

Echo feels a swell of relief. He’s been really looking forward to a peaceful stroll and knows he’ll feel all the better afterward. Hunter, in all his protectiveness, could be gruff and at odds with letting them venture out if it wasn’t a necessity.

“Thanks,” he says. “I won’t be too long. I’ll stay in range, and I’ll help Tech with whatever I can when I get back.”

“I know you will,” Hunter says calmly, using two fingers to firmly tap on Echo’s collarbone in steady succession. One. Two. Three. It’s a familiar grounding gesture, one all of them recognize. “Take as long as you need, this time, brother. Force knows you’ve earned it. Just… stay sharp, yeah? And take a full canteen.”

“Will do,” Echo says with a nod. He collects his canteen and heads toward his locker to change. “I’ll have my link open if anyone needs anything.”

Echo removes and stows his armor and his blacks and then dons comfortable but practical civilian clothes. He chooses a pair of sturdy, fitted tactical pants to go under his belted Kama, and a weather-proof, forest-hued jacket to go over his compression top. The jacket has a spacious hood for concealing his neural implants should he encounter anyone wary of them. Not because he’s ashamed, but because attention is dangerous. It also offers a few places to carry his commlink and other essential gear.

He opens the locker of gear and weapons they’ve salvaged, collected, and repurposed from old missions and odd jobs. He chooses a small, easily concealed hand blaster from the rack of surplus. After getting himself well-acquainted with it, he holsters it safely at his side under his jacket.

Echo departs the Marauder with Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega, planning to split up with them when the road forks into a rural pass and a paved route to Karot. Everyone seems to be in good spirits, yet Echo hesitates at the fork longer than he means to. These days, he’s always reluctant to be alone. Isolation has once stolen his autonomy and transformed him into a weapon for the enemy. And he’s loath to leave his family’s side when he could be protecting them.

But eventually, he’s convinced they’ll be safe in the market. Also, he reminds himself that he'll likely draw unwanted attention to their party. Besides, if he takes some mindful time for himself now, he'll be refreshed when they regroup for their next excursion.

“I don't like it when we split up,” Omega complains, wanting to accompany him.

Though wary to leave him on his own, it seems that Hunter and Wrecker both respect that Echo simply needs to be alone sometimes. They're able to convince Omega to leave him to his walk in peace.

Echo knows Omega is worried. She reluctantly lets him go, but only after Echo promises her that he’ll be careful. He assures her how calm about it he is, though his chronic sense of ‘I shouldn’t be this relaxed’ lingers stubbornly.

Echo turns away from them to make for more organic terrain. The sounds of their footfalls and distant clamor from the market fade behind him, replaced by the quiet, soothing hum of a gentle breeze through tall grass. He takes a deep breath and savors it: the clean, uncomplicated, blissful sound without distortion.

Notes:

I often HC that Echo craves nature (ground, soil, organic life, wind, air, trees, etc.) as a reclamation of his humanity. T’would be a royal shame if someone were to make him feel like equipment again...

hyeh hyeh hyehhh