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“She’s going to be alone someday.”
Echo’s awareness is ripped out of report he was reading. “What?”
Hunter doesn’t look at him, his eyes fixated on the little girl chasing Wrecker through the tall grass, their laughter floating over the clean, clear air. Hunter’s face is drawn, and he absently kneads his right thumb into the palm of his left hand. “How long do you suppose the Kaminoans planned for clones to live? Naturally, I mean. If we weren’t killed during the war.”
“Honestly, I don’t think the long necks thought that far ahead,” Echo says.
Hunter nods. “Tech said that the average human lives to approximately 75 standard years. But for us that would be halved, since clones age twice as fast. So, if we’re lucky, we might live for 35 standard years.” Hunter clears his throat, but doesn’t say anything else.
“And Omega will still be a young woman,” Echo finishes for him.
Hunter nods again, jaw tightening.
“For what it’s worth,” Echo says, “I don’t think Omega will be ever alone. That kid has got a good head on her shoulders, and an affinity to finding friends in the strangest places.” Echo breathes a laugh, but Hunter only smirks grimly.
“Well, that affinity also gets her into trouble,” Hunter mutters.
Echo chuckles. “She’s still a kid, Sarge. But she’s still got us.” Echo nudges Hunter in the shoulder with a fist. “She’s still got you.”
A shrill, delighted squeal pierces the air, and the two men see Wrecker scooping Omega up and throwing her over his shoulder like a sack. He starts walking up the hill toward the tree Hunter and Echo have been sitting against the past half hour while the two of them played.
Echo continues before the roughhousing duo are in earshot. “Supposing you’re right, and we’ve got 35 years in this galaxy…that means we have a little over twenty years left, right?”
“I suppose.”
“Then I say,” Echo says, keeping his voice low, “that we make the most of everyday we’ve got with her.”
Hunter is looking at him now, the sadness still lingering in his eyes. But there is an edge of hope that wasn’t there before.
That’s the moment Wrecker lumbers up, a giggling Omega still draped over his shoulder.
“Look what I found! A wild Omega,” Wrecker crows, “You know they’re rare in these parts?”
“Put me down!” Omega squeaks out through her breathless laughter.
“Mouthy little thing,” Wrecker goes on, “Can we keep her?”
Hunter cracks a smile. “I don’t know. Tech doesn’t like pets on his ship.”
“Hey!” Omega cries, wiggling around in Wrecker’s grip so she can turn her head to see Hunter.
“I think he’d like this one,” Wrecker says. “She’s pretty smart.”
“And the Marauder could use a mascot,” Echo puts in.
“Guys!” Omega whines good-naturedly.
Wrecker laughs and swings Omega off his shoulder, setting her gently on her feet. She smiles brightly up at all of them, but her focus hones on Hunter. “I like this planet! How long are we going to stay?” she asks.
“Probably only until Tech is done with inventory,” Hunter says.
“Can we stay through the night cycle? We can have a campfire!” Omega bounces on her toes, and she reaches out to grasp Hunter’s hand. “Wrecker told me all about campfires, and they sound like the best thing ever!”
“Yeah, Hunter, can we?” Wrecker asks, sounding, if possible, more hopeful than their sister.
Hunter exchanges a glance with Echo, and Echo grins and shrugs. “It is a nice planet. Might as well make the most of it,” he says.
The Sergeant keeps his gaze for only a moment, a silent acknowledgement, before he looks down at the golden-haired child in their care. “Sure, kid. A campfire sounds like a good plan.”
Omega gasps delightedly. “Thank you, Hunter! This is going to be so much fun!”
Later that night, around a crackling, roaring campfire, Omega falls asleep tucked into Hunter’s side, and Hunter holds her close. “Someday,” he whispers, “I’m gonna go where you can’t follow…but while you’ve got me, little one, I’ll protect you to the ends of the galaxy. I promise.”