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There are three things he remembers from before: an ocean, a girl and a woman.
What little else he does know is what he was told by the people who found him. They called themselves merchants (pirates would have been a more accurate description) simply passing through, when they discovered him on Eriadu, broken and half dead. Their leader apparently seeing an investment opportunity in him, sparing just enough bacta to keep him alive, in hopes a family somewhere would feel moved to part with their credits in exchange for the safe return of their loved one.
But you cannot generously return someone to people they cannot remember. Having outlived his usefulness, they left him on a backwater planet with a small mining community with an even smaller space port on the cusp of Wild Space. If he had any possessions upon him when the pirate and his gang found him, they had long since been sold. Glumly, he wonders whether he owned corrective lenses and if they had been sold on too. His eyes feel fuzzy and the constant squinting and trying to focus made his head hurt, a small price to pay for his life, he supposes.
He needs to consider his next move, he has no credits and no where to stay but mining settlements like these are always looking for labourers willing to work for a meagre allowance and a roof over their heads. It is as good as plan as any. He makes his way towards the central office when he overhears an argument between a twi’lek and a theelin over the state of their ship, a fault with the engine having developed. He takes a glance at the exposed engine as he walks past, even with his blurry vision the issue is glaringly obvious, and the words are coming out of his mouth before he can stop them.
“It’s the frequency alternator servos,” he says, “they’ve shorted out. Fortunately, not enough to warrant a complete replacement.”
“Oh yeah?” The twi’lek looks back and forth between him and the ship, “think you can fix it, hotshot?”
Does he?
“Well of course I can.”
Servos repaired, he heads to the local market with the credits the twi’lek and theelin pair had handed over as thanks, he sources a pair of corrective glasses, the lens strength is far from perfect, but he can already feel the tension fade from around his eyes.
News travels fast in small communities like these, and soon he finds himself in demand from locals and travellers alike. He must have been a mechanic before, an engineer perhaps. There’s an overwhelming familiarity to taking apart ships and the occasional droid.
He cannot remember his name but he can remember how to repair a hyperdrive unit.
One of the port officers leases him a small room, in exchange for maintenance work. This is not the worst place he could have found himself, the locals have taken to calling him ‘Flash’. The name does not sit right in his mouth but there are worse things he could be called.
He has long accepted he may never recall anything else from his previous life. It is not worth dwelling on, he must adapt to his new life, he needs to move on.
Still, he dreams. Chasing after ghosts that slip from his grasp, the smell of salt reaching his nose, the heat from the sun warming his skin, a small hand in his, a smile and a whisper of “brown eyes”. He wakes with an ache in his chest and names of the tip of his tongue.
Seven standard months into his stay here, he is working on an astromech, when an old mining vessel lands in the port, it is not one he has seen docked here before. He takes a look at the manifest before getting back to work, The Remora.
“He’s one of the best mechanics we have on site,” he hears the port officer approach a little while later. “If he can’t repair it, no one else this side of Wild Space can. Hey Flash-”
“Tech?”
In front of him are two men, both in modified clone armour and both looking like they’ve just seen a ghost.
“Tech? Is it really you?”
They are familiar. He knows he knows them, but it’s an innate sort of knowing, like knowing how to breathe. But Tech? Is that him?
“Forgive me,” he says, “it would appear I sustained significant injury and as a result, I am experiencing problems with memory recall.”
The man with the scomp link (how fascinating), make a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Well, you still sound like yourself.”
The two men, Echo and Rex, fill him in as best as they can. His name is Tech. He is a genetically defective clone formerly of the Grand Army of the Republic, he and his squad defected at the formation of the Empire. Echo and Rex are his brothers. He has more brothers and a sister waiting for him. He has a family. It is a lot to take in.
He needs to go with them, to be reunited with the rest of the family. He spends the rest of that day tying up loose ends, resigning from his position with immediate effect, and assisting Rex and Echo with the Remora.
“It’s a good thing the hypernodes packed in when they did,” Echo chuckles as he reseals the engine panel, “come on, let’s get you home.”
Home, as it turns out, is an island on a remote planet in the Outer Rim. “It’s quiet,” Echo explains, “it’s off the Empire’s radar. We made sure of it.”
As they approach, he stands to look out of the cockpit, and there in front of him is the azure ocean he dreams of almost nightly. “I know this place.”
“That’s good,” Rex is smiling, “maybe you’ll remember more when we land.”
It’s a comforting thought, but he’s not convinced he will.
When he does land, he is met by his other siblings, the smallest of whom barrels face first into his chest, a girl (the girl) wraps her arms around him and is crying loudly.
“We missed you,” she sobs, “we missed you so much.”
Not knowing what else to do, he gingerly places his hands on her shoulders, “I’m sorry for the distress I’ve caused.”
“Omega,” his brother with the half-face tattoo says, “don’t crowd him, give him some room.”
The girl pulls back, “sorry.”
“It’s quite alright,” he offers a smile and turns to the rest of the assembled group, “perhaps we can talk somewhere.”
The catching up will have to wait, the first place they take him to is the island’s humble medcentre, where he is checked over by a medical droid who is pleased to see him.
“I have assessed CT-9902’s-”
“Tech.” Crosshair warns.
“-condition,” AZI-3 says. “Physically, he is in good health, all things considered. Any injuries sustained during the accident have been sufficiently treated and have healed remarkably well.”
He (Tech, he has to remind himself) knows this. From what he’s been told about the events on Eriadu, the fall should have killed him and yet he’s survived with minimal scarring on his face to show for it.
“And his memory?” One of his brothers, Hunter, asks.
“The brain scan shows significant trauma which is affecting long term memory recall. It is possible, with time, that CT-9902 may begin to recall his past again.” AZI-3 pauses, and for a moment Tech thinks the droid almost looks sad, “however, you must prepare yourselves for the possibility that he may never regain his memories.”
“Never?” Omega wails, she’s crying again because of him. “It’s not fair!"
Hunter pulls her into his side, “it’s alright, kid, it’s going to be okay.”
His other brother, Wrecker, who so far had been quiet, standing towards the back and looking just as upset as Omega, sniffs loudly and wipes his face. “Yeah,” he says, “even if he never remembers, he’s still our brother. He’s still Tech.”
Tech hopes he is right.
Later, they are sat on the patio outside their home, he has a house now, as the sun sets below the horizon. For the last few hours, Tech has mostly sat quietly, absorbing everything his family has told him about his own life. They recount the time the rescued Echo, Order 66, defecting and taking Omega with them. He doesn’t remember any of it, but it is nice to fill in the gaps of his memory all the same. When they reach the events on Eriadu, Crosshair interrupts.
“We should take a break,” he drawls, “it’s been a long day, we can finish this another time.” Tech wonders whether he is saying this for his benefit or for Crosshair’s own.
“I would like to continue,” Tech says, “I’d rather hear it now, then spending the rest of the evening not knowing.”
What they tell him of Eriadu aligns with what little he has managed to garner himself, he fell from a great height that should have killed him. What he now knows is that he willingly gave his life for them, his family. The rest of the tale is easier to absorb, there is no expectation on him to remember as he listens to them talk about Omega being captured, Omega escaping with Crosshair, Omega being captured again and finally, the rescue from and destruction of Tantiss.
“It worked then,” Tech finally says, after processing all this new information. “This Plan 99, by sacrificing myself, and the subsequent actions that followed, you were reunited with Crosshair and ultimately saved the lives of several clones and children, and destroyed the Empire’s research. I would consider that a resounding success.”
“And we got you back,” Omega chimes in, smiling.
“Indeed,” Tech smiles back, “I made it back home. Mission success.”
Night time falls, and his brothers are trundling off to bed, Omega having already retired hours ago. “I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep on the couch,” Hunter says, pulling spare bedding out of a cupboard.
“That’s quite alright,” Tech says, “I imagine we’ve had to sleep in worse conditions before.”
Hunter nods, and makes a choked off sound. “I’m sorry,” there are tears in Hunter’s eyes and a tight feeling in Tech’s chest over how wrong that is, “I’m so sorry, we should have gone back, we should have looked-”
“It would have been a fruitless endeavour,” Tech interrupts, anything to stop his brother from spiralling further. “The pirates that saved me must have done so shortly after I fell. If you had returned, I would have been long gone.”
Hunter gives a disbelieving look, “Tech, I failed you.”
“You did no such thing, it was not unreasonable to assume I was dead, your primary objective was to help Omega. It would have been illogical to have come back.”
For a moment, Hunter does nothing but then he moves suddenly, blankets dropping to the floor, and for a split second Tech worries he’s about to be pulled into an embrace. Instead, Hunter places a hand on his shoulder, grip firm as if Hunter’s afraid Tech might disappear at a moment’s notice.
“It’s good to have you back, Tech.”
Tech knows he loves them, his family, he must do. Why would he have given his life for them if he did not?
He has been Tech again for almost three standard months, and he is pleasantly surprised by how natural being Tech comes to him.
“Ha! It’s like you’ve never been away.” Wrecker has said cheerfully on multiple occasions, slapping a hand between Tech’s shoulder blades. He hasn’t made much more progress with his memory, nor does he feel any particular pressure to, but when he does remember the rare glimpse into his past life, he jots down in his newly acquired datapad: a battle he was apart of, a dry remark Crosshair once made and interestingly, he remembers in vivid detail the Marauder’s nose art of the former Naboo senator.
“We should continue your flying lessons,” he says one afternoon.
Crosshair and Wrecker are out on the water whilst Hunter takes it upon himself for at least one of them to learn how to actually cook now that they have a real kitchen.
He and Omega are walking slowly along the beach, whilst Batcher pads behind them, stopping periodically to sniff at a particularly interesting rock or piece of driftwood. Batcher being a new addition to the family is a welcome relief, she is one less thing Tech has to try to force himself to remember. And Batcher wants nothing from him except for head scratches, belly rubs and the occasional scrap from the dinner table.
Upon seeing Omega for the first time again, he immediately recognised her from his dreams of before, a fact which thrilled Omega, knowing that her brother never truly forgot her. “We’ll have to get a new ship, of course. I’m sure Rex and Echo can help us source one.”
“Phee’s taken me up a few times,” Omega says, she’s throwing pebbles across the water, trying to get them the skim across and failing miserably. “She has this really cool move, when she breaks atmosphere with all the power off, I call it the Phee Fall.” She raises her hands in front of her, palms out, moving in an arc at that last part. “Hunter hates it.”
Tech resists the urge to roll his eyes, “that’s because Hunter hates anything that might endanger you. But I must admit it does sound impressive.” He rubs at his chin. “Did I ever teach you how to execute a sharp swing with zero thruster pull?”
“Mmhmm,” Omega hums, “I call that one the Tech Turn.”
He laughs, of course she did.
“Do- do you remember how to fly?” Omega asks, voice small. “It’s okay if you don’t! We can learn together!” She quickly adds.
“I’m not certain,” Tech answers truthfully, “not without getting into a pilot seat. However, I knew how to repair all those ships and droids without any recollection of how I learnt to. It’s muscle memory, perhaps.”
Omega nods, satisfied with his answer and returns to trying to skim pebbles.
He looks out across the water, in the distance he can see the boat Crosshair and Wrecker are fishing from, the new lenses he and AZI-3 made working much better than the previous ones. He tries to picture himself in a cockpit, steering yoke in his hands, the blue light of hyperspace before him. There’s something, just under the surface, he can almost grasp it. Yes, he’s in a high speed vehicle, but he’s not flying, he’s-
“Omega,” he says, still looking out at the ocean, “was I in a... racing competition?” Tech recalls being in some sort of race but cannot quite remember the context around it.
“Oh yeah!” Omega says, cheerfully, “we were helping settle some debt for Cid. You won, of course.”
Tech closes his eyes and he can hear the crowd cheering, Wrecker yelling in delight, how exhilarating the high speeds were. He turns to his sister, to tell her all this but when he looks at Omega again, he sees her much younger, smaller, her hair shorter. This is the Omega he left behind and it’s then the reality of just how much of her life he’s missed hits him.
“Omega,” Tech breathes, “you’ve grown.”
She looks at him, and perhaps she can see the realisation on his face, and oh, no, he’s made her cry yet again. But she’s laughing as she throws herself around him, squeezing tight, “I love you so much, Tech.”
He pauses, before wrapping his own arms around her shoulders, “I love you too.”
Tech knows he loves his family, and this time, he realises, he feels it too.
The woman from his memories was also easy to identify as one Phee Genoa, self proclaimed liberator of ancient wonders. What aversion pirates have to simply calling themselves as such, he might never understand.
Phee was an interesting woman, to put it mildly, Tech thought. She’s a pirate with no regard for financial gain, instead retrieving artefacts for their cultural and historical significance, returning what she can to its rightful people. Tech recalls the pirates who found him on Eriadu and how once he had been exploited of every credit they could rinse out of him, left him behind again.
Phee, on the other hand, his brothers had informed him, was the one who brought them to Pabu, gave them somewhere to settle down and plant roots. After Tech seemingly died and Omega was taken, she had stuck around, helping however she could, exhausting her network of contacts to try and find any trace of where Tantiss could have been or what an M-Count was.
Yes, Phee was interesting. And generous. And loyal and rather... lovely to behold. Tech can feel heat spread across his face and a fluttering in his chest whenever he thinks of her. This feels like new territory to him, having an infatuation with someone. It would be hard for anyone not to after learning about her.
He doesn’t remember her though, not really, and trying to ascertain the nature of their relationship from any of his siblings is like pulling teeth.
“You were friends,” Hunter says, “you’d disappear together for hours on end and then refuse to tell us anything about it.” There’s more to it than that, Tech’s sure of it. He’s hesitant to use the word romance, but it is the logical conclusion. He’d ask Phee herself if she would stay long enough in one place.
Her time on Pabu lately was fleeting, it’s not lost on Tech that the number of jobs she’s on has increased exponentially since his return. She’s avoiding him.
“I owe a lot of favours trying to get intel on Tantiss.” She had said, shrugging.
Tech is sat with his family, as Hunter serves dinner, when a memory strikes him like lightning, vividly and clearly.
“Tech? You alright?” Wrecker asks, voice full of concern.
Tech has hunched forward, one hand at his temple. “I’ve just recalled my last conversation with Phee before we left for Eriadu in excruciating detail.” He stands, dinner no longer important, “I apologise, I must leave.”
Tech’s striding out of the house before he can hear his brothers’ protests. He heads for the Archium. He knows she has returned from a job earlier that day, and was likely to spend the rest of the evening cataloguing her new finds. And that is exactly where he finds her, looking radiant as ever.
“Well hey there, Brown Eyes,” Phee turns towards him, “what’s got you in a fluster?”
“I want to apologise,” Tech says, he wishes he knew what to do with his hands, “for our last conversation before I left for Eriadu.” He settles for clenching his fists at his sides.
Phee chuckles, but there’s little humour in it, “you remember that, do you?”
“I regret not wishing you a proper goodbye. I assumed we would return in due course.” He pauses, steeling himself, “and I simply did not know what to say.”
“Do you remember anything else? From before?” There’s a light in Phee’s eyes, hopeful and Tech knows he’s going to disappoint her and the thought of that pains him.
He shakes his head, “no, but I believe we were close.”
“Your brothers tell you that?”
Tech sighs, “they only say we were friends, but it was more than that. We were-“ he pauses, searching for the right word, “together.”
“Not quite,” Phee says, shrugging, “maybe, if we had more time. Maybe if I had been more direct. I liked you. A lot. And then you died, Tech, and now you’re back. You’re still you, but it hurts knowing you don’t remember anything.”
He so badly wishes he did, he wants to remember everything they did together, what they talked about, whether they held hands, whether they kissed and he wants to tell Phee all this, but the words die on his tongue.
“I dreamt about you,” Tech says instead, “before Echo and Rex found me. I couldn’t remember the minutiae of your person, but it was always you.”
“Oh?” Phee says, face now breaking out into a grin, “you saying I’m the woman of your dreams now?”
He can feel heat spreading across his face, the tips of his ears burning and he reaches up to adjust his glasses, “it is a subconscious mechanism thought to aid in processing and consolidating information.” He pauses and looks at Phee, she is smiling softly at him now, “you are... flirting?”
Phee hums, “something like that.” She’s still smiling, but it’s no longer reaching her eyes, “what do you want, Tech?”
“I want to spend time with you,” he says, “I want to get to know you again.”
“Okay.”
He smiles and so does she.
“Have you eaten?”
Tech frowns slightly, “I have not, but I don’t see how that is relevant-“
“Let’s get dinner,” Phee threads her arm through his and Tech’s chest flutters. “But I’m not going to forgive you for running off with pirates.”
“Well technically, they ran off with me.”
There were three things Tech remembered from before: his home, his family and his wife.
He has been Tech again for almost two standard cycles. He has since moved out of the family homestead, his back could only take sleeping on the couch for so many nights. Whilst Hunter’s offer of sharing his room was tempting, Phee’s offer of sharing her bed was far more appealing. The elopement followed shortly afterwards.
(“I did bring back a treasure from our latest adventure,” Phee had announced to her newly extended family, “I have a husband.”)
His memories are still patchy in places, but he thinks he has all the important ones back. He remembers Kamino, getting their inhibitor chips removed on Bracca, Omega in the Ipsium mine, and sometimes in the dead of night, he thinks he can remember hanging from a train car. At least, he can recall the pain of having to make that decision, knowing that he would never see his loved ones again. But he is here on Pabu, he’s alive. Omega is braiding Hunter’s hair, Wrecker is serving cake he baked, colour is returning to Echo’s skin, Phee is blowing him kisses from across the patio and Crosshair is smiling.
Life is good.