Work Text:
This fic is written for Facebook's Melting Pot Tropes and Fandoms. My roll landed on a Regular square. The trope I chose was Wartime Romance.
Echo came to, shaking his head clear of the massive headache that threatened to crush his skull. He tried to sit up and was detained by Tech. “Lay down; you’ve had a massive shock to your system. That last mission, you were hit by a prototype stun blast that knocked out your circuits.”
A stream of data entered Echo’s mind, and the words pressed against his brain like he was going to word vomit if he didn’t get it out.
“Need you to record something,” he told Tech.
“Record what?”
“Need to info dump. Something about the Techno Union. Just remembered it. Hurry.”
Tech put on his helmet and started recording. “Done. Recording Echo. Start now.”
Echo spat out a bunch of figures, data, and information that had Tech’s eyebrows raising under his helmet. If his brother’s statement was true, this needed to be reported to Republic Intelligence immediately. When he was done, Echo fell asleep almost instantly, and Tech stopped recording, checking Echo’s vitals and then sending an encrypted message to their Republic Intelligence connection.
It wasn’t more than a few cycles later that a mission came back for the Batch to partake in a particular operation and infiltration of a Separatist Techno Union base to hopefully capture and detain the information Echo had spilled, their interior spies confirming such technology was being developed when they knew where to look for the information.
Echo was feeling much better then and ready to rejoin the squad for active duty.
--
“Work faster!”
“I am working as fast as I can! If you want this shielding technology to work, give me time.”
“We’ve given you two months to come up with something. You should have better results by now. Do you want us to replace you?”
You scoff. Like they had anyone better to replace you. You were the best they had ever had, and they damn well knew it. Not that you wanted to be here anyway but being drafted into duty as part of your planet’s offering towards the Techno Union Guild and the Separatist war effort was mandated.
“No, I don’t want to be replaced,” you returned, deciding that arguing wasn’t worth it. You would tell them what they wanted to hear - again. “I’ll work faster,” you sighed.
“And longer hours. You take too much leisure time.”
“If eating, sleeping, and showering is leisure time, I don’t know what you consider essential.”
“Less sleep.”
“If I get less sleep than I already do now, my work will suffer.”
“Then you’ll take the stims you keep refusing. Continue your insubordination; I dare you,” your commanding officer scoffed, and you sighed again.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be insubordinate. I’ll cut my sleep by two hours and start taking stims.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear. Very good. Keep up the good work.” Then he was gone.
Now that you agreed with him, you were doing good work. What the fuck was with commanding officers, anyway?
The Techno Union was the worst place you’d ever worked. They treated their employees like droids, and you rarely even got to holo your family back home. It was a dreary existence and one you wished would pass by faster so your mandatory allotment of service time would be up, and you could return to doing what you loved back home.
You looked out your window briefly at the approaching and departing ships. At least you had a nice view of the comings and goings of the facility. It helped pass the time when you needed to zone out to think of a solution or a new conclusion to your work.
Suddenly, you saw a ship that looked out of place. It was incoming towards the station but not a docking bay. It looked like it was going to ram the station!
You immediately pressed your panic button and had security there in seconds, pointing out the window. It was coming in so fast that you had no time to get to safety. The ship crashed several floors above you, and the ceiling fell quickly. You dodged large chunks, and the emergency lighting came on as fires started, pipes and hoses popping and bending in ways they weren’t meant to.
“My research!” you gasped, lurching towards the computer and yanking out the control disk. It didn’t have your latest calculations input yet, but you could always redo them. The most important thing was keeping the control disk safe. The moment your hand was pulled back a bit of ceiling fell apart and landed right next to the computer, causing the control panel to lurch to one side and fall.
“Facility invasion. Everyone in sectors three and seven to the main hangar immediately.”
That was your sector. You didn’t have armor but were expected to fight, never imagining having to blast at someone in your current assignment.
Stopping at a weapons locker, you grabbed a random blaster and headed towards the main hangar, taking several detours when corridors were blocked, parts of stairs or lifts were missing, or you could hear enemy fire.
When you arrived, you realized there were very few of your personnel. What had happened to everyone else?
“All available personnel to the main hangar immediately!” came a panicked shout over the intercom. Another command started but crackled out, the emergency power failing and the entire system shutting down.
Shit. You were terrified, almost entirely sure you were going to die. You hid behind a column, directed there by a squad leader who had just arrived, being told to stay put and shoot anything that moves outside a particular area.
Hidden in what you thought was an out-of-the-way spot, you didn’t even see the attacker that shot you with a stun blast right to the back of the head. You crumpled to the floor, and the attacker moved on, pointing to several troops behind you to arrest you for questioning.
--
The Batch made their way through the facility, doing a floor-by-floor search where it hadn’t caved in from the accidental but fortuitous crash of one of the smaller crafts sent to the front line. There had been little in the way of real resistance, and anyone they encountered had been easily dispatched with efficiency.
Tech came upon what appeared to be the remains of a lab of some sort. He sifted through the rubble with Wrecker and located a computer terminal. It was useless; everything smashed to pieces, and nothing salvageable. He almost slipped and picked up some flimsy from off the floor, having been covered in charred remains and partially burned. He got excited, seeing some complicated mathematical formulae on it, and placed it in a secure pouch on his person.
After a thorough search, they made their way back to the rendezvous point. One of the officers brought forward a disk and a few other paraphernalia, presenting it to Tech. “This is all of the information we’ve confiscated so far from the facility. We’ve been commanded to hand anything we find data-related over to you, sir. We’ve also detained the prisoner from whom we confiscated the disk. She is currently unconscious.”
“Thank you, officer. Your cooperation is appreciated and noted.”
Tech briefly showed Hunter what had been procured. When Crosshair reconvened with the other three, they waited for the command and took off back to base to turn in their findings.
--
You woke up with a headache the size of a cruiser, crashing through your brain like a stampede of wild Bantha.
An interrogation chamber was where you came to, and you were cuffed to a seat for prisoners. “The prisoner is waking up,” a voice said, and you opened your eyes, bleary and unfocused. You raised your head, only to immediately regret it and let your chin drop to your chest again.
“Tell us your name and station.”
You had no desire to give up any information and refused to do so. “I’m not telling you a damn thing. You might as well kill me now.”
The man in front of you chuckled. “Oh, we’re much more patient than that. We’ll get the information out of you one way or another. We have our… methods,” he finished.
And boy, did they ever. Hours later, beaten, bruised, and completely tapped out, having spilled your guts in spades from the torture they’d heaped upon your battered body, you were finally allowed to collapse in a sterile cell void of any other occupants and comforts except a rugged rack to lay down on, which you gratefully did so, not caring there was no comfort to be had other than letting your body be horizontal for a change and close your eyes, no one poking you, hitting you, shocking you or otherwise beating the living shit out of you until you spilled everything.
--
Tech entered the commanding officer’s office and set down the control disk they’d confiscated from one of the Techno Union prisoners. “I’ve extracted the data and copied Intelligence on all of it. I want to speak with the prisoner this was taken from.”
“They’ve just come out of interrogation.”
“Were they productive?” Tech asked, a bit of distaste in his mouth. He knew interrogation was not gentle if the subjects weren’t forthcoming.
“Very. We shall begin again in the morning. I don’t think they could take much more from the look of them.”
“Are they in a state to have a conversation with me, though?” he asked. It wouldn’t do him any good if the prisoner passed out.
“You can have at them first thing in the morning, Tech. First dibs. How about that?”
“That will be sufficient, thank you,” Tech stated, then saluted and left.
--
The following day you were dragged back into the interrogation chamber. You had thought this was done, swearing up and down you’d told them all you’d known. They’d given you some stale rations and sterile water to drink before hoisting you under your arms and dragging you back to that hated chair.
“Heads up, prisoner. One of our officers would like to talk to you.”
“I’ve told you everything I know, I swear,” you stated, tears forming. You weren’t cut out for torture. You weren’t a battle-hardened veteran like many who had been taken in.
“You will speak or suffer the consequences, prisoner!” the man yelled, then ushered in a clone who looked very different from the others you’d seen so far. This one had goggles on, and a slicked back, receding hairline with what you recognized as the control disk in his hand. He pushed the disk into the computer terminal on the wall, and the schematic of your hard-won designs popped up.
“Are you familiar with this work?” he began immediately, and you just nodded, letting your head hang, knowing he would only beat you if you didn’t comply.
“The work is incomplete. Clean-up of your facility suggests further improvements were being made, but the evidence was mostly destroyed in the destruction caused by the ship that crashed into your division.”
You waited for him to go on, and he walked over to you. When he raised a hand to place it under your chin, you flinched away, and his hand followed you, lifting your chin, so your eyes met his. He brought up his other hand, and some pieces of burnt flimsy with your calculations on them were brought into view. “This is all we retrieved from your lab. The main data core was erased. Based on the schematics from the disc and the information you’ve given Intelligence, these flimsies suggest you were on the verge of a breakthrough. Do you remember exactly what you were working on when we infiltrated your facility?”
You nodded, finding it difficult to look into his kind, liquid brown eyes magnified by the goggles. He didn’t seem to be of the same ilk as the others that had beaten you yesterday.
“Do you think you could recreate the work under restricted lab conditions?” he asked plainly.
You nodded again.
“Elaborate.”
“I have an eidetic memory. It’s still in there. I’ll do whatever you want. Please don’t beat me anymore,” you begged.
The clone frowned. “I’ve no intention of torturing you, dear. I will request we work together on your breakthrough; if you’re willing to help us, I promise no one else will lay a hand on you.”
You breathed a sigh of relief. At this point, you couldn’t care less if it was the Republic or the fucking Techno Union assholes you were serving. As a civilian turned military researcher turn prisoner, you didn’t have much fucking choice in the matter.
“I’ll help. Just tell me what you want me to do.”
He gestured to a guard standing by the door. “Uncuff her.”
“I am under strict orders to keep all prisoners restrained.”
“At least uncuff her from the chair so that I can escort her to the lab. She is willing to cooperate.”
The trooper hesitated and backed out of the room. “Let me check with the commander.” He was gone for a minute and then came back in. “They’re not done questioning the prisoner.”
“What further use could they have with this one? She’s readily agreed to help and has been under enough pressure already to tell you everything she knows. If you continue torturing her, she will be useless to me,” the clone said callously. “I’ll be right back, dear. Hold tight for a moment.”
You hoped and prayed to the maker that this man would get you out of this fucking chair. You just couldn’t. You just couldn’t take another moment of torture. You’d rather die.
Bickering ensued in the corridor, raised voices coming through the thick door, and you held your breath, waiting for the clone to come back and the other man to start beating you for more information you didn’t have to give them.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the clone and the commander returned. The commander addressed you sternly. “Prisoner. If we find out you are withholding information from the Republic, you will be tried and imprisoned or executed for war crimes against the Republic. You will cooperate with Tech to finish the research you started at the Techno Union, and you may possibly be set free when it’s complete. Do you agree to comply with these terms?”
“Yes, please, just don’t torture me anymore,” you begged, no shame whatsoever bothering you. Every muscle in your body ached, and you didn’t even know if you could walk out of the room at this point.
The commander seemed satisfied and snapped off the recording device he was holding. “You may retain custody of the prisoner.” He nodded to the guard who uncuffed you, then re-cuffed you with the cuffs in front of you, much more comfortable than behind your back.
“Stand; you will follow Tech to the lab facility and, from there, will work with him on your research under guard.”
“Of course,” you sighed, and when you went to stand, you wobbled but were able to hold your own, limping hard as you followed the man you now knew to be named Tech out of the room to the lab.
--
Thankfully the walk wasn’t long, and you were given a comfortable seat at a computer terminal with flimsy and scientific equipment and utensils at your disposal. It was the perfect setup for your research, and some of you felt happy to be back doing what you were supposed to do.
The man named Tech introduced himself. “My name is Tech, as I’m sure you figured out. I promise you will not suffer physical, mental, or emotional torture while in my care. First, let me get the med kit, and we will see what we can do about your aches and pains.”
Tech was upset by the amount of bruising and injury he found when he examined you discreetly, moving aside your long sleeves and rolling up your pant legs a bit. “I’m going to give you a bacta infusion. It will make you tired, and you will require a short nap. I will have a cot brought in for you to lay down on and a decent meal ready for when you wake up. I’m afraid I cannot authorize a sonic shower for you. However, I will keep today’s session as brief as possible so you can rest more before we continue.”
“Thank you,” you told him quietly, and he nodded, distracted by the med kit and its contents. He loaded a hypo and gave you a shot of the good stuff—high-quality Bacta. Instantly you felt relief flooding your body as the Bacta started working. As promised, a cot was brought in, and you lay down, feeling woozy and a little drunk. “You have nice eyes,” you slurred at the clone before you passed out.
Tech was taken aback by the compliment. You seemed like a nice woman, and he looked forward to working with you. So far, you hadn’t treated him like someone underneath you, addressing him politely and generally being agreeable. He hated the torture techniques used on men and women alike but knew they were part of the war, and he could not stop it from happening. Still, it pained him to see you suffering so much, and he vowed to do his best to help you in any way he could make your imprisonment as comfortable as possible. He removed your cuffs with a solemn order to execute you if you so much as tried to sabotage anything or escape. Of course, he had no intention of doing any such thing, but he would definitely need to stun you with the blaster he kept on his hip if it came to that.
Several days passed, and you were excited by the recreation of your newer theories and how to transform your almost-complete plans for an invisible shielding on starships into working models. Tech was brilliant, coming up with several ideas you hadn’t thought of, and was highly impressed with the work you’d done so far and continued to do with his help.
It didn’t take as long as you thought it would. A mere couple of weeks and you felt like you’d gotten to know Tech quite well, even though he had to significantly curtail what he said about his personal life and tell you nothing at all of his work with his squad. His personality shone through quite well; you were attracted to his intelligence and gentle side.
When you finally made the breakthrough you were working so hard to procure, you felt like celebrating. You shouted and pumped a fist into the air. Now it could be put into action, although it would technically be your enemy that would benefit from the invisible ship’s shielding once a prototype was made. You were planning to help with the prototype - until everything went upside down.
Shortly after you took a meal break and were looking forward to your eventual release or reassignment to another area, or at worst, back to the brig until trial and sentencing, Tech announced the results to his commanding officer. You were immediately taken back into the commander’s custody, not even thanked for your contribution.
“What’s to become of her?” Tech asked, not something he would have asked at the beginning of your work relationship. He, indeed, was worried for your welfare. “We will begin the prototype planning process next, and she is also integral to that part of the plans.”
“We have our own technicians that will take over from here,” the commander said, cuffing you behind your back unnecessarily tightly. “You may report to your squad for a briefing on your next mission. Dismissed.”
Tech watched with dismay as you were marched away, and as you looked over your shoulder, you were pushed forward rather roughly and commanded to look ahead. “Goodbye, Tech,” you had mouthed, not even given a proper time to say that to him in person and thank him for his help.
Terror filled you when the commander brought you back to the interrogation chamber. “What? Why am I here?” you asked, panicked. “I’ve told you all I know.”
“Republic Intelligence suggests otherwise. You’ve been holding out on us. We’ve been informed you’ve worked on several other projects you failed to mention.”
“No! I only ever worked on the shielding technology the entire time I was in service, I swear!”
“That’s alright. We’ll get it out of you, one way or another.”
“Please, no,” you begged as the commander brought out a stun baton.
“Tell me the rest of what you know, and you can return to your cell.”
“But I helped finish the shield technology – you said – you said –”
“You didn’t expect to go free, did you?” the commander mocked. “Or to work further on the prototype project? Do you think I would be that stupid to let that kind of information be leaked or sabotaged?”
“But if the technicians don’t know what they’re doing, the technology will fail! The computations that go into the formula are unique to the process, and not one step can be missed, or it’ll cause catastrophic failure!”
“So you admit to sabotaging the project before it’s even started?”
“No! I didn’t say that! They need guidance, and me to help them through the process. The computations are complex and unique,” you tried to restate.
“I beg to differ—enough of this. You waste my time. I won’t have it. Tell me what you know about these other projects, and maybe I won’t hurt you.”
“Please, no.”
Several hours later, you were practically thrown back into the original cell you occupied upon your arrival, in worse condition than you were before, with the promise of more of the same tomorrow if you didn’t comply. As unconsciousness enveloped you as you lay on the floor in a heap, a tear escaped your eye that you’d never see Tech again, to tell him how you felt and the words you wanted him to know before your time was up. You wouldn’t make it another day; you were sure of it.
--
“Why are you still working with that database?” Hunter complained to Tech. “We needed to leave on this mission as of an hour ago.”
“I’m working to find what happened to the young woman I was working with. I fear she was returning to the interrogation chamber, but I can find no record of her in the computer system. I must go find her and see if she is alright.”
“Tech, don’t get attached,” Hunter warned.
“It’s too late for that,” Tech informed him primly. “I’ve already bonded with her in some form, and I know she feels it too. I’ve never worked with someone as brilliant as she, and it would be a shame if they killed her. She has earned her freedom or the right to a fair trial. I also fear that failure to put her on assignment to build the prototype will result in catastrophic failure. She told me as much, herself.”
“What’s all that mean?” Wrecker asked, and Crosshair translated, “He has feelings for the girl, and she’s a brainiac like Tech. He wants to go find her; much good that’ll do you,” he told Tech there at the end. “You know how tightly patrolled the restricted sections of the brig are. You have to be security to get in and out of there. We don’t have that kind of clearance.”
“No,” Tech answered, “but I have a friend who does.”
He encrypted a comm message to his friend and waited.
“We need to leave now, Tech,” Hunter repeated, and Tech sighed.
“Fine. I will let her know where I’m going. She’s Republic Intelligence and sympathetic to the plight of prisoners in custody. Many don’t make it to trial. They get carried out in a body bag.”
“That’s one way to take care of the scum,” Crosshair sneered.
“She’s not scum,” Tech defended hotly. “My friend deserves a chance to live. She earned that right and was promised it by security.”
“Promises aren’t worth shit in here,” Cross argued back.
“Enough. We’re leaving.”
Tech and Crosshair glared at one another as they took off on their mission, Wrecker following close behind and peppering Tech with questions the whole way.
--
Juliana received the comm from her friend during her midday meal break. She took it in private and raised her eyes at the request, then softened when told of the prisoner’s plight after she’d worked so hard at providing the solution she’d been detained to solve. With determination and a glint in her eye, Juliana, a high-ranking Republic Intelligence Officer, made her way to the brig after rescheduling several meetings that afternoon. She had work to do.
--
You heard arguing and a short scuffle outside of your cell. Then a female voice very clearly commanded the rest of those in the room to clear out.
Great, they were here for more questioning. If they wanted you, they’d have to drag you to interrogation. You couldn’t even pull yourself off the floor to care. You weren’t going willingly.
The buzz of the barrier went silent as it was deactivated, and someone stepped into your side point of view from the floor. She crouched, and you saw a kind face smiling at you. “I’m Juliana, Republic Intelligence. I’m taking immediate custody of you. Can you walk?”
You shook your head and gave her a weak, “No.”
“Kriff,” she said under her breath. “I’ll get a medical team to escort you to security medbay twelve. I’ll meet you there.”
In short order, the barrier was back up and down again when two medical transport people placed you on a mobile stretcher, guiding it out the door and down the halls, up a level, and into a med bay. You were set in a bay, and the attending physician tutted at the extent of your injuries, muttering as the nurse began to patch you up.
You caught a little conversation here and there as you drifted out of consciousness again, but it wasn’t irrelevant to your capture and detainment.
Given a sedative, you were asleep in no time flat, allowing the medical team to work on more of your grievous injuries without hurting you.
Unsure how much time had passed, you felt much better when you awoke than the last time you’d been conscious. “Ma’am, she’s awake,” came a female voice, and then the new, familiar face of the one called Juliana came into your line of sight.
“Looking better, I see. Feeling better?”
“Yes. I don’t know if I should thank or curse you,” you replied bitterly, surprising the agent.
“Why is that?”
You sat up, groaning and holding your side but throwing up one hand. “Is this a new form of torture? Heal me and hurt me again? If the aim is to kill me, please do it now and put me out of my misery. I can’t take this kind of treatment over and over again.”
“I have no intention of killing you. You’ve been taken here to heal, and I intend to keep you healthy.”
“So, I’m still in custody.”
“Of course. You’re in my custody now.”
“And what happens now?”
“You sure do ask many questions for a prisoner,” she suddenly turned sharply, addressing you with a frown and pointing a finger.
You shrank back a bit. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to be tortured anymore. I’ll do anything.”
“You have my word. You won’t be further harmed.”
“Thank you.”
You felt like you could relax a little bit after that conversation. She had turned to whisper to a nurse and doctor, and occasionally one would gesture or flick an eye over to you. Clearly, they were discussing you. Apprehension still reigned but wasn’t paramount. You had to figure out how to get out of here or cooperate with them. What the hell did they want with you now?
Juliana left, and you were told to stay in the med bay for a couple of days for observation. On the third day, you were bored and feeling incredibly restless. Juliana hadn’t been back, and it was pretty quiet with only one other person in the medbay that seemed unconscious.
The tears were back when a security officer approached you in the afternoon and put you in cuffs, which had been temporarily removed for your treatment. You were just positive they were going to torture you again. “No, please. I can’t go back there. I just can’t. NO, no!” you screamed at the guard, and they asked for some help from nurses as you started to become hysterical, trying to scratch and kick the guard.
You were quickly injected with a sedative that had you falling to your knees, feeling loopy and happy, forgetting what was happening that seemed so important a moment ago.
A lovely man escorted you to a comfortable room where you lay down and watched patterns in the ceiling dance across one another for a few hours. When the sedative started to wear off, you sat up suddenly and realized you were in another cell, but it wasn’t the detention area, and you were no longer cuffed. Given what you'd been through recently, you felt slightly silly for making a scene earlier but thought it was warranted.
Your head felt full like a balloon, and your balance was a little off, but kriff, you needed the ‘fresher something awful. Stumbling like a newborn calf, you shakily made your way there and relieved yourself. You were amazed to find another separate bedroom and a kitchenette with decent rations in the cupboard. You must be in the high-end prisoner wing. You must be critical to someone, somewhere, or they wouldn’t have bothered to keep you here. It was both thrilling and frightening. Were they coming to their senses and going to let you work on the prototype project?
Despite Juliana’s assurances, you still weren’t wholly comforted, the Republic having gone back on their word several times already regarding your imprisonment and cooperation.
There was a small data pad in the bedroom with essential information and novels, so you sat down to read to pass the time.
Eventually, Juliana came to see you, and the barrier was brought down, allowing her in. She called your name, but you were already up and out the bedroom door, eager for any news or company.
“Oh good, you’re up. You’re going to need to change into this flight suit. I’m having you transferred to another facility.”
“Why, what for?” you asked, suddenly tense.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that information with you now. Suffice to say; you will be well treated.”
“Alright. Well, thank you, I guess. At least for saving me from further interrogation.”
Juliana frowned. “Your treatment is not standard procedure. I’m investigating the commander who interrogated you and his methods. I’ve been meaning to for some time, but your case was the last credit in the bag for me. I felt I owed you to know this is not how we treat our prisoners. At least, it’s not supposed to be. Any assurances given are generally honored, but it’s more of a code and less of a rule.”
“Oh. Well, thank you again. When will I be leaving?”
“You will be escorted to the transport in two standard hours. You’ll be in my custody but out of my command structure. The person who will oversee your imprisonment until we can arrange a fair trial, with consideration taken for your cooperation, is a good man and will treat you well. This is goodbye, then. It was a pleasure to meet you, however brief this may seem.”
“Pleasure to meet you too.”
She saluted, and you nodded back. She crisply turned on her heel, deactivated the barrier, and retreated without looking back. Interesting. What a twist this entire fiasco turned out to be.
They said it was two standard hours, and you were changed into the flight suit they’d given you. It had felt delicious to take a sonic shower and clean yourself up adequately other than the sponge bath the nurses were so fond of sharing.
Two security guards came to retrieve you, cuffing you, of course. However, not unkindly, escorting you to a small transport, and you were amazed to see you were the only passenger besides the pilot, a Twi’lek woman who nodded to you but otherwise didn’t say a word. You were seated and buckled in, the doors shut, and a field activated between you and the pilot. Additional security. They took their prisoners’ transport seriously, although security was a little lax in your case. Shouldn’t a guard have accompanied you? You tried to engage the pilot in conversation, but she steadfastly ignored you, so you went silent, lost in your thoughts, wondering where you would end up and what would happen to you.
--
Tech received Juliana’s encrypted message and signaled to Hunter. “They will have her on a transport today at 1500 standard hours. We have three hours to rendezvous with the shuttle. My friend will be on board.”
“And then what? You still haven’t told me what we’re supposed to do with this Separatist woman once we have her.”
“Juliana has arranged a discreet identity change and location for her to stay. We shall drop her off there. It’s only a parsec from our next mission objective so it won’t be out of the way.”
“How convenient,” Crosshair sniped. “We pick up your girlfriend, drop her off, and she gets off scot-free. That’s not how justice is supposed to work.”
“She was made assurances the Republic turned their back on, Crosshair,” Tech sniped back, and Hunter got in between them.
“Cool it. You two have been at it for days. We’re all on the same squad here. Crosshair, if you have nothing productive to add, stow it.”
“Fine,” was all Crosshair’s reply as the sniper continued to polish his gun.
“Thank you,” Tech said, relieved of the teasing. “Let’s disembark. I’m eager to see how she’s got on.”
The Batch made their way to the rendezvous point with no issues. The pilot looked the other way as she pressed a few buttons, and the back hatch opened. You looked to the front, startled.
“Pilot. Why have we stopped here? Is this where I’m going to be held?”
No answer.
You stood up and walked outside, seeing nothing on this moon planet except a gorgeous view and some wild creature in the distance. A shout from your right had you craning your neck and whipping around, a big smile lighting up your features as Tech came into view, and he rushed at you, wrapping his arms around your neck, and you lifted your arms and placed your arms around his, your cuffs getting in the way a little, but you made it work.
“Mesh’la, I’m so happy to see you alive and well.”
“What are you doing here?” you asked, confused. Suddenly your transport took off without you. “What in the galaxy is going on?” you wondered aloud, and Tech hugged you tightly before releasing you.
“We must be on our way. I will explain inside the ship. Come now.”
You followed him to their ship and stepped aboard hesitantly, being pushed gently into a jump seat and buckled in. Your cuffs were removed, and you rubbed your chaffed wrists gingerly.
A big man sat opposite you, and you smiled at him when he grinned at you first. He introduced himself as Wrecker, then one in another seat named Crosshair, Tech piloting the craft, and the one that had put you into the jumpseat was Hunter.
“Hunter, what am I doing here?” you asked again, tired of getting no answers and hearing more of the same.
“I’ll let Tech explain. For now, we’re getting you out of here.”
You would have to wait until Tech could speak privately to you. You wanted nothing more than to give him a great big kiss. A conversation happened around you, and you were even pulled in occasionally by Wrecker mostly and sometimes Hunter. Crosshair gave you a few curious glances and a smirk once but was otherwise quiet for the most part.
Hunter excused himself once to hand out rations, then the conversation continued. They talked strategy and shop and generally gave each other shit, recounting memories with people you’d never heard of and likely would never know. It was comfortable and almost cheerful.
When you dropped out of hyperspace, Hunter was in the co-pilot seat, arguing softly with Tech. They made a quick landing, and you didn’t get to see out the viewscreen other than a flash of green and blue before you landed.
The doors opened, and Tech invited you outside warmly. “This is where you disembark, my dear. I’m afraid I have a mission and won’t have time to catch up with you until another time.”
“But I barely got to see you!” you protest, not focusing on the woman standing in the entry. “And you haven’t explained what’s going on!”
“My apologies, mesh’la. My contact, the Republic Intelligence officer you were in the custody of, has arranged for you to live on this planet under an assumed identity. It is, of course, secret, and I shouldn’t have to tell you to exercise discretion in your words and actions.”
“That’s amazing. Thank you so much for arranging this – for helping arrange this. I don’t know how to ever thank you enough,” you gushed. Then, “I’ve barely got to spend any time with you!”
“I’m sorry. My schedule prevents me from seeing you off more than I am right now. Trust me that you will be in good hands and have a fresh start at life under a new identity.”
“How is that possible?” you reply, tears coming. Your only security was being torn away again, but you didn’t feel like you were walking into danger, only the unknown.
Tech gave you a soft hug, and you returned it fiercely. He hesitated, then returned yours in kind, hugging you tightly and whispering, “I shall see you again, mesh’la, and we’ll make up for lost time then. I promise, and I keep my word.”
“I trust you,” is all you had time to say; then you were being hustled off the ship into a darkly wooded area on the edge of a clearing, a log cabin in the distance with some animals and children running about wildly in a meadow.
Waving goodbye, not sure if they could see you, you watched the Marauder fly away until it was out of sight, waving wildly.
Then, you introduced yourself to the new person in your life, Isabo, and began conversing with her on this new, wonderous journey you were about to embark upon.
--
You kept up with Tech, comming one another using an encrypted frequency and making a puzzle out of the messages with mathematical equations. It was much fun to decrypt and keep your mind busy while you sorted out your new life on the farm where you’d been settled to help mind children and the farm.
Your mind yearned for intellectual stimulation, but this place was far from it. Instead, you spent your time building mechanical toys for the kids out of scrap metal and fixing various equipment around the farm, improving upon household devices until things were running at peak efficiency, just as you liked to see. It brought in some much-needed money for the family, and the local government asked you to work on higher-profile projects. They were so grateful for your help they hired out your services to surrounding neighbors and friends, and word traveled fast of your expertise.
At this point, you started to sweat. You were supposed to keep a low profile. Now you’d attracted national attention to your talent as scouts were sent to evaluate your work and were so impressed that you were offered an immediate position with their research and development team for space and interstellar travel.
Unfortunately for you, word got around quickly in Imperial scouting circles. One heard of your rising talent, making a date with the local government to evaluate you and scoop you up if necessary. It was also possible you were the missing prisoner that had escaped some months past that mysteriously was presumed dead but not declared so yet, as there’d been no proof of your termination or accidental demise. An ongoing search had been initiated to find and bring you back into the Republic fold. They desperately needed your help and would secure you at any and all cost.
Tech warned you that a bounty had been placed on your head. The Republic was looking for you actively; your project had blown up in their faces just like you predicted. Now, they wanted to find you, to draft you to come work on developing a prototype, desperate to gain an advantage over the Separatists.
With great sorrow, you packed your things and boarded the Marauder with the clones again, tearfully saying goodbye to your new family after months of growing close to them and the children. You were sad to go but knew you were in danger of being found out if you stayed. It was already going to be suspicious that you up and left. The family would claim you had packed your bags at night and disappeared. You prayed the Republic didn’t bring them in for questioning regarding your disappearance, but your newest identity (apart from the previous new one you had assumed) had been forged so it wouldn’t lead back to your old self, so for now, you were safe. Sort of.
How were you supposed to live like this? On the run, always looking over your shoulder? You hadn’t even had a chance to tell your family where you were or if you were okay. They probably thought you were dead at this point.
Reaching your new destination in the Outer Rim took a few days. Then you went several parsecs beyond it to be on the safe side, Tech said. At long last, he sat down to have a heart-to-heart with you on a remote desert planet he said would be safe from Republic's presence. A place not on the star maps that you would never be found. Another family had been procured to take you in, and moisture farming appeared to be your new outlet. Not one you looked forward to, honestly. Already your mind was calculating the water ratios in the condensers to the software it was hooked up to and how they could be improved.
For once, you were alone with Tech on the Marauder, the others departing to give you some space, Crosshair flicking his toothpick at you and smirking, telling his brother to ‘use a condom’ on his way out of the ship.
Tech had turned bright red and apologized profusely, stuttering the entire time.
“Here we are at last,” you told him, taking both hands in yours.
“Yes, here we are.”
For once, Tech was speechless after you’d both spilled your guts about everything that had happened in between, all the moments missed in the months you’d been apart.
You met his liquid brown eyes, smiling weakly. “You know I’ve fallen for you,” you tell him plainly, and he smiled sadly.
“I’m afraid I’ve fallen into something for you too, mesh’la,” he replied, just as sincere. “I don’t see a future where we can comfortably reconcile our emotions and selves.”
“I’m afraid you’re right. You have your squad, and I must keep living, one foot in front of the other. Are you sure I won’t be found out here?”
“I’m positive. There is no Republic footprint this far beyond the Outer Rim, and this planet does not have an organized government except for the local Daimyo, of which there is one for each of the nine territories. There are some border disputes, but it’s mostly peaceful. You shall not attract the attention and fame here you did on the other planet, as there isn’t enough technology to work with even to gain the consideration.”
“My mind is going to rot out here.”
“I shall send you things to work on if you desire.”
“I’m going to need something, Tech. I can’t just wither away from being a moisture farmer for the rest of my life. Do you ever think there’s a possibility I can go back home?”
“As long as the Republic is in power and fighting a war with the Separatists, I don’t see that happening,” he told you, and you nodded, having felt that in your heart.
“Then, can I at least move on from this place? I really can’t imagine bearing living here for the rest of my natural life.”
“I shall endeavor to find you somewhere you can be productive where your talents will be used but not attract attention. I need time to find such an arrangement. My intelligence contacts will help me, I’m sure. It would be best if you gave me time. Can you do that, my dear?”
“I can for you, Tech.”
You were both quiet, knowing goodbyes would have to be said relatively soon. You took Tech’s hand and pulled him outside to look at the sunset together, the brilliant reds, purples, and blues all blending together behind clouds that were arcing dry lightning across the sky. It was a magnificent backdrop.
You turned to him, and he looked at you questioningly. “What is it, dear?”
“Tech, before you go….” You hesitated.
“Go on,” he urged.
“Can I kiss you? Please?”
“Of course. I want nothing more,” he replied, and you breathed a sigh of relief.
He closed the distance, and you pressed your lips together, moving them softly at first, then embracing and slipping one another tongue, passionately kissing under the gorgeous backdrop of the desert planet that was your new home.
A clearing of a throat was your cue to stop after long minutes of embracing, the kiss growing so heated you could feel your arousal building in your core. There wouldn’t be time for that, however. The squad needed to go, already late for their next mission.
Hunter approached you and clasped your hands in his, shaking them heartily. “I’m pleased to have been able to meet you and know you are worthy of our Tech,” he praised, and you ducked your head in embarrassment.
“Thank you, Hunter,” you said.
“You’ll be missed.”
“You haven’t seen the last of me yet,” you warned him, and he just chuckled, putting a hand on your arm and then walking up the ramp to the ship to get it ready to leave.
The family you were supposed to stay with came out of their home and made their way through the sand slowly to your position, quiet while you also said your goodbyes to Wrecker, who gave you a big hug that was a bit too powerful.
When Crosshair stopped in front of you expectantly, all you said was low enough so only he could hear, “Thanks for the advice. We used a condom.” He spat out his toothpick in surprise, grimacing.
“I did not need to know that,” he snarked, then stalked his way into the ship, grunting disgustedly at a confused Tech on his way in.
You spent your last minutes with Tech, embracing him once more and touching noses as the last of the setting sun slipped below the horizon. “I’m going to miss you. I love you, Tech.”
“And I love you, mesh’la, my beautiful, brilliant girl. How I shall miss you dearly.”
“C’mon, man, we’re leavin’!” Wrecker shouted out the door, and Tech pulled away, your fingers entwined until the last second, and he ascended the ramp.
As the door closed, you waved wildly, his hand raised in goodbye until he was out of sight. The ship took off. You watched it until it disappeared into the atmosphere, then turned to your new family and new life, away from prying eyes and safe at last.