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The weightlessness of it all is the first thing that hits Tech while the cable breaks.
You’d think that the ground would come so quickly that you wouldn’t be able to even process what is happening to you, yet he is.
He is able to grasp that while he is falling he is also floating at the same time.
Because he is not falling until he hits the ground.
Only then does the term ‘falling’ fit the situation that is playing out.
Grasping desperately at this odd rabbit hole his head begins to weave for itself he doesn’t have time to catch when the ground does come into view, nor does he have time to realize that this is most likely going to be it.
Plan 99 may have entailed it, but still people were not necessarily made to comprehend their own demise.
Even if they were soldiers made to die for their cause– death was still an issue that did not come into the equation until it was inescapable.
And well, this felt pretty inescapable.
Especially as the trees come into view and he takes in one last gulp of breath.
He can still see where the rail line is from here.
Now distant gray spots against the cool whites and blues of the sky, but they're moving.
And once he can’t see them anymore, he closes his eyes and accepts the end.
Better to embrace what some cultures termed ‘The Reaper’ then fight him at this point.
Better not keep him waiting either.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His bones are the first things to go.
Too many trees in the way slow his descent with time, but that doesn’t stop the cracking and snapping of the skeleton that holds him up.
Once he does reach the cold hard earth though, there is nothing to be done.
Conscientiousness swims in and out as it pleases while he lays there prone. Unable to even begin coming up with the idea that he should try to get up.
He can’t grasp that he was still breathing somehow.
Just stuck in a limbo like between where death was hovering all around but not yet ready to reap was what was rightfully his. Rather deciding to let his next victim suffer it seems.
The cool mountain air brushes through the thick tree limbs above. The same limbs that had just brought him this very sensation that now tore him asunder until his mind was filled with nothing but need to scream out in agony.
It rolls across his own face and he weakly smiles beneath his battered helmet as he wonders if this will be the scene that he bids adieu to.
He found it far more fitting for it to be giving his goodbyes to his family, but perhaps it was sweeter to finally force him to savor the beauty around him.
Life moving so fast by him as a soldier such a concept seemed so far away he dared not dream of it. Except, briefly on Pabu. When staring into Phee’s own comforting brown eyes his mind wandered down the path of domesticity. That perhaps, indeed, he too deserved to fulfill the role of ‘romantic partner’ he had once read about late into the Kamino nights on the off chance that no one would catch him. That he too had earned the right to find solace in another person, even if he could not fulfill everything that would be expected from a romantic partner.
It was so odd, yet tempting at the same time.
But he wasn’t on Pabu.
He was on this cold rock trying to reach out and rescue the last missing piece of their family.
Only to have to let go of it all the same.
His breath shudders as it slowly becomes harder and harder to move his chest.
Blood finding it’s way into the surrounding rock and grass, until he knows that the skull is looming right over him.
And so his smile widens.
Welcoming the new friend he had inadvertently made through all of this.
“Keep them safe.” He suddenly chokes out, wanting nothing more than for the figure of death to hear his words and be ready to hesitate when it inevitably becomes Hunter or Wrecker’s time.
That maybe he will bother to give them enough time that Omega can reach them and give them the care that he knows can’t be afforded to him.
“Oh, we’ll do more than that.” Suddenly comes from behind him however.
And just like that figures fill the edges of his view and he feels his body begin to move, without any action on his own part.
He hand roughly yanks the helmet off of his head and rips the goggles that served as the last tether to sight he had until the world is a blur of greens, blues, grays, and blacks.
“We’ll certainly look after them, but we won’t be necessarily keeping them safe.” The voice comes again, now clearer as if it were right behind Tech’s head. Rich with charisma yet oozing mistrust that Tech’s weak frame can’t help but flinch at the noise.
The limbo he’d just found himself in now suddenly gone, instead being replaced with the inevitable promise of hell.
“You, in particular, will be most important in achieving this, Tech.” The voice adds, a sneer clear from his voice, before the snap of fingers and his world is plunged into darkness.
The heavy punch of Storm Trooper’s fist colliding with his head instantly rendering him unconscious.
Left in the palm of the Empire’s hand to do whatever they please with him.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The world never really comes back into focus after that punch.
When Tech’s body attempts to do this he’s forced back down by a swift pinch in the neck and the sound of glass bottles passing between table to hand.
Until nothing can be focused on anymore.
Maybe a few words here and there about what should be done with “the cargo” at a few points, the sound of some kind of liquid filling a container, or the sharp stabs followed by drilling that is then consumed by the sensation of screaming limbs that runs all through out his body.
But as he gasps out in pain all his eyes can see are facsimile of human shapes. Too blurry to properly grasp who was doing this to him, and to note who would reap what they sowed when he figured out how to get out of here.
They coming in and out of consciousness was enough to drive a man mad though as at every flicker of being able to comprehend his surroundings he was immediately yanked it away.
Truly infuriating.
Especially, when he kept thinking he saw a flash of Omega or a flicker of Crosshair. Briefly hearing what sounded like a yell or a plea that matched their same cadence enough to send his mind spirling for just enough time to wonder where he was or what was happening.
And then darkness once more.
This cycle continuing on and on and on and on and on.
Until one day, he wakes up and there is no sterile walls or fluorescent lights with the circle of hunched over doctors and troops all around, but rather the blaring of alarm bells and the harsh reds of alert.
Multiple voices fill his ears but they’re hard to parse against the all consuming call to arms that surrounds them.
Then he feels the sensation of clothing against bare skin, grinding metal against flesh, and tears rolling down a face.
He was awake.
But not fully.
Not properly.
His body does not feel like it is within his control yet.
His legs in particular feeling like jello beneath him. Any attempt to take a step forward only being met with a stumble and a hand put up against him to keep him steady. Words are said to him but he can’t understand them, not yet.
Too much is happening.
His focus needs to be elsewhere.
He needs to understand what it happening.
What has happened.
To him.
To Crosshair.
To the Batch.
“Tech!” Cuts through any ideas that began to take better shape inside of him as he feels his body loose contact with the ground and suddenly begin moving forward.
His head held aloft by his neck, but his limbs dangling limpingly, and uselessly, in the air as though he were a new born loth kitten unaware of the world it had just been born into.
Heavy footsteps and screams mix and twist with blaster fire and the continued cry of attack all around.
It was too much.
He couldn’t handle this.
He couldn’t process this.
Not now.
Not like this.
So, against his better nature, against any good idea imaginable, his body slips back into the safe black space he’d been forced to call home for so long.
He just couldn’t deal with this right now.
Another time.
When there was less happening.
Then he could begin to grapple with what had become of him and his family.
But like this?
That just wasn’t going to happen.
So his body goes limp.
Eyes flick to him in quick panic, but they move back to looking forward.
Because they have to do what he just isn’t capable of right now.
Keep moving forward.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tech finds himself standing on the edge of a cliff.
A sea breeze brushing against his cheeks as he breath it in deep and smiles to himself at the serenity he feels.
This is freedom.
This is peace.
This is what he’s missed for– however long he’s been stuck for.
Time means nothing and yet everything when you’re constantly being put to sleep, but you’re just not capable of being able to hold onto it.
Feeling it slip through your fingers every time a needle goes into your neck.
But here, now, he could take that back.
Even if it wasn’t–
“It’s going to be tough, you know.” A voice says from behind him, footsteps sharply coming into focus as gravel and dirt grinds under the booted foot of the person now coming up on his rear.
“Tough? What will be tough?” He coyly asks as his eyes move to his side and he sees a softly smile Phee next to him.
“The future.” She says so simply you almost didn’t want to think twice about it.
“Well the future is always tough, what specifically are you getting at in regards to it?”
Phee lets out a sweet chuckle, brushing her hand against her lips to hide the beaming grin that had now engulfed her face, “Things have changed now, Tech, whether you want them to or not.”
“Things are always changing, and I’ve learned to take them in strides.” He raises a brow in continued confusion at what Phee meant by all this.
Accepting the future was a specialty of his, a skill he had honed for years of his life because it was always shifting around him. Nothing was set in stone on Kamino and things were even less in the larger galaxy.
Yet Phee was still bothering to talk to him about this.
Reaching out and placing her hand on his shoulder she shakes her head, “This is something greater than you’ve dealt with before. There is no way to change this. There is no way to escape this. This is here, brown eyes. And you need to be ready to handle it, if you ever can be.”
Tech cocks his head to one said and begins to study their surroundings.
Their edges are smudged.
Not crisp like he first thought.
Like someone was trying to fill in the gaps of what was now a very distant memory.
“Come on now, brown eyes,” Phee sincerely says, moving closer to him until their bodies are barely a few inches apart and her hand has moved down to his chest, “Are you going to be ready?”
He slowly blinks as he resigns himself to the reality of what this was, but finds comfort in it strangely.
“Yes, I will be.” He assures, taking hold of her hand and squeezing it. “No matter what happens, I will be ready for it.”
As he says that noises begin to slip through the cracks.
The soft chirping of birds is replaced with the cold beeping of buttons.
The cool sea breeze becomes cold metal air.
And Phee’s voice, though she may appear to open her mouth, is drowned out be the flickering of a “tech. tech. tech.”
Until he sighs and closes his eyes, hearing one last–
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“TECH! Fills his ears as his eyes burst open and his lungs desperately grasp out for air.
A gasp quickly follows after him and sobs not long after that.
As he feels his lungs fill with air over and over arms wrap around his neck and tears begin to cover the crook of his neck.
Looking around he recognizes the interior of the Marauder faster than he would have anticipated, but it’s practically tattooed into his brain. The very home he made sure maintenance was kept up with day after day whether under the Republic’s thumb or Cid’s.
This was his home.
And he was safe.
“Thank the maker you’re alright!” Is sobbed into his shoulder as his head moves down and he sees Omega holding onto him for dear life.
Omega.
She’s here.
She’s alive.
She’s safe.
She safe and on the Marauder just like him.
Shakily he goes to lift his hand to pat her on the head and promptly finds that hand covered in circuits.
Flexing it in disbelief he gaps in both fascination and horror at what he now realizes is all over his body.
Legs.
Arms
Back.
All held together but wires and bolts until it curls up to the back of his neck and ends there.
He was alive because of this metal frame.
The Empire had– saved him in it’s own twisted way.
As he begins to try and grapple with this conclusion Omega’s body shakes with a ragged sob as she squeezes Tech so tightly he’s surprised by how strong she is.
“Don’t ever do that again!” She begs, lifting her head up to show just how much of a mess she was.
Swallowing down his moral questions about the people that had just held him prisoner he opens his mouth to try and soothe her but is cut off with the collision of another body. A second set of arms find their way around his shoulder, this pare far larger, and wrap themselves around both him and Omega.
“You’re awake!” Booms Wrecker with an infectious glee, he too tearing up and barely holding in a sob as he holds onto his smaller vod for dear life.
Gasping from surprise Tech quickly nods his head, as he finds himself out of breath just as fast as he’s gotten it back.
“Careful Wrecker,” Hunter softly scolds, now appearing beside his older brother. “He’s still figuring things out.”
Grunting in disappointment, but understanding, he sets Tech down carefully back on at instead opts to rest his hand on his shoulder. Still wildly grinning down at him, but now with a little more sense.
“Are you feeling alright?” Hunter asks, glancing between Wrecker and Tech nervously.
“Yes, I think I am.” Tech awkwardly replies, his voice coming out rougher than anticipated.
“All their experiments will do that to you.” Crosshair cuts in now, standing in a door way staring down at him with intent and careful eyes that show care beyond his words.
Crosshair back with the Batch.
Tech can’t help but smile in surprise, “You’ve made it back.”
“And you didn’t listen to me.” He scolds, though he also begins to smile reflecting Tech’s relief back at him. “I thought Plan 88 made things quite clear.”
“We prefer not to leave our own behind, no matter what the situation.”
Crosshair shakes his head in disbelief, “Yes, you’ve proven that much at this point.”
“Well I say that it’s more than you deserve all things considering,” Echo chides appearing next to the sharper shooter with a swift punch to his shoulder. Earning a glare in response but no biting words. “But you’ve still proven you’re trust worthy enough.”
Moving his eyes down to his fellow piolet he adds, “You need any help figuring out all those wires? I’m an expert at it by now.”
Tech again shows off his flexing hand and shakes his head, “With time maybe, but for now I am alright.”
Echo nods before looking over at Hunter and waiting for him to say anything.
They all end up looking to one another to say anything now.
A family brought back together despite all the horrible odds stacked against them.
Broken, beaten, and blooded they all still made it here in spite of what the Empire may want.
Looking around Tech wraps his arms around Omega and holds her just the little bit tighter.
She’s here.
They’re here.
And he’s, somehow, here.
His sacrifice ended up working out in the best possible way.
Death had ended up listening to him, and granted him more than he could ever have asked for.
And now as the Marauder flies farther and farther away from the horrors not only he but Crosshair and Omega had endured he knows that no matter what the Bad Batch will be there for one another.
Come hell or high water they would find each other consequences be damned.
Because they were a family.
And what more could someone else want from that?