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“Why are you always on your datapad?” Omega asked, idly kicking her legs over the long drop beneath them. She sat on the wooden slats of the bridge, arms resting against one of the ropes used as rungs.
The blue full moon behind them illuminated the night as it lay above the two rocky, snowy mountains to the south. A valley spread out below them, with a gentle river running by and lapping at the muddy sides.
“It holds a wealth of information, and can connect to most computer systems, and the holonet. Besides, we need it for missions,” Tech explained.
Currently they were on a mission. Their job was to wait on the bridge while Hunter corralled the smugglers and mercenaries towards them. Once everyone was safe on the far side, they’d cut the ropes, trapping the enemy on the opposite side. These cliffs ran along the valley, falling and rising into dips and peaks before connecting with the mountains, and running, up, and up towards the cloudless sky.
The stars were arrayed above them in more colors than Omega could count. The sky was lit up like a city, and Omega wanted to explore that city. When Omega looked down to the river below them, that city was reflected in the water, and the sight was beyond captivating.
“True,” she said. “But you’re always on it.”
“I find it comforting.”
“CT-9902, pay attention,” the trainer called to Tech in his rough voice.
Tech had his datapad out while being given instructions for this exercise. He just wanted to take notes on it. That was all. And pressing the buttons felt nice.
“I am,” he argued.
He felt very small as the brown-skinned Iktotchi instructor, Mar Pellis, approached him. Usually Tech was okay with other races as he was being introduced to some of them with his trainers (they were taking over for some of the troopers that were called elsewhere), but right now the horns hanging down on either side of his face seemed quite intimidating. He knew from records he’d managed to get onto his datapad from the holonet that Iktotchi had very hard heads, and could gore their enemies. Right now, Tech felt a bit like an enemy. Or perhaps prey would be more accurate of a word.
Mar grabbed at his datapad, and Tech pulled hard.
“Hey, let go!”
“You’re always looking at this, always typing,” Mar complained. “You’re not paying attention.”
He managed to yank it out of Tech’s hands.
“I was taking notes.”
Mar looked over what Tech had been doing, saw he was telling the truth, and reluctantly gave it back to him. He sneered.
“Fine, but I’ll be making sure you’re paying close attention.”
Distressed, Tech started typing away on it, searching, just for the sake of it, just to get this out of him.
His fingers pressing down on the buttons sent a sense of comfort through him, going up his fingers, into his hands, and wrists, his arms, shoulders, and eventually his chest.
Hunter came over to pat him soothingly on the shoulder, but Tech dodged his touch, feeling like it’d be too much right now with the distress he was still feeling. Hunter was okay with that.
Tech’s fingers moving felt wonderful.
He’d tried getting out feelings in other ways, just moving his fingers, or flapping his hands, but it wasn’t the same. He needed to feel the press of buttons against his fingers, needed to feel the depression of them.
Mar kept talking. Tech tried to pay attention, but each look at the Iktotchi made him more upset, and he retreated into himself, and retreated into the datapad.
“What’s comforting about it?” Omega asked in earnest.
Tech turned to her, but continued typing something. She didn’t mind. She knew sometimes Tech actually paid more attention when he was using his datapad. She didn’t quite understand it because she felt like her focus was too divided the times he loaned it to her for studying.
“Surprisingly, I’m not sure I can quite explain it.”
Omega stood, curious as to what he was doing on it now, and he recognized this, and showed her.
He was looking at the smugglers’ routes at the moment.
She pointed at a particular hyperspace lane they would need to get back to Ord Mantell, that was right on the route. Do you think we’ll run into more of them?
“It is quite possible, yes,” he said.
Omega watched his fingers pressing at the buttons. Was that what felt nice about it?
They were silent for a bit, listening to the strange animals call through the night amongst the shadowed coniferous forests on either side, and the gentle rush of the river below them.
“Is it pressing the buttons?” she eventually asked.
“I believe it is.”
“Have you tried with other things?”
“Tried what?”
“Feeling comforted, moving your fingers.”
“Unfortunately, I have.”
“What went wrong?”
“It just wasn’t right.”
Tech had his datapad with him. Of course he did! And unfortunately he had another training session with Mar Pellis. He almost wanted to leave his datapad behind, but an uncomfortable itching settled in his fingers when he left it in the barracks, hair rising on the back of his neck, stomach plummeting.
“No datapad today?” Hunter asked.
“Actually, I’ll be right back.”
Tech jogged back to the barracks and grabbed his datapad, then jogged back to meet up with the others.
No one in his squad really commented on the datapad anymore, except to ask if he was looking at anything particularly interesting on it. Everyone understood Tech liked it, and that it seemed to help him. Even Crosshair was understanding about it.
“You know we’re with Mar Pellis again,” Crosshair informed him.
He adjusted his goggles.
“I know.”
“He’s not going to like the datapad.”
“Yeah, well that’s his problem,” Wrecker said.
“He could make it Tech’s problem,” Hunter pointed out.
“I’ll—I’ll try and pay attention,” he said.
Which didn’t go well because five minutes into being given instructions, Mar Pellis ripped it out of his hands.
“Give that back to him!” Hunter cried.
Mar Pellis walked down the line, to Hunter, and leaned in, horns getting on either side of his face.
“Or what, little clone? You’re just a cadet. I’m the trainer. There’s nothing you can do.”
Tech was clenching and unclenching his fists, feeling his cheeks get hot, and a pinching feeling at the bridge of his nose near his eyes arose. His throat ached.
His fingers ended up curving into claws with the discomfort and distress he was feeling.
It was like he was lost, the floor beneath him no longer solid.
He loved Hunter so much for trying to stand up for him, but Mar Pellis’s words seemed to make this worse.
“There will be someday,” Hunter said. “So watch your back.”
“A threat? From you. Really? Do you want to be in solitary for two days?”
Hunter stepped forward, determination written all over his face.
“If that’s what it takes.”
“And if I put CT-9902 there as well?”
“No, leave him out of it. He was just on his datapad. That’s all.”
Solitary? Tech crouched down, no longer holding his stance, and he ended up curled into a ball on the floor.
He tapped his fingers frantically against his head, but it just wasn’t the same.
“Fine, I’ll make you pay for his sentence too. Four days.”
“Good,” Hunter said. “I’ll go right now.”
“I’ll escort you.”
“I expected nothing less.”
As the two of them passed by, Mar said, “CT-9902, pull yourself together.”
Crosshair sighed. “Just give him his datapad back.”
“Yeah,” Wrecker said. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“Well I say he was, and what I say goes.”
“You wish,” Crosshair said.
Mar whipped his head around.
Tech tapped and tapped, trying to imagine buttons, but it did nothing. Everything felt like it was falling apart around him. He needed to be touching his datapad. He started pulling at his hair.
“What was that, CT-9904?”
Crosshair stepped forward.
“Crosshair, don’t,” Wrecker warned.
Crosshair got in Mar’s face, “I said you wish .”
“You’re not even a trooper,” Wrecker argued. “What authority do you have?”
“My authority, CT-9903,” Mar bit out, “was given to me by the Kaminoans. Shall we go talk to them?”
“Yeah,” Wrecker said.
“Fine by me,” Hunter agreed.
Crosshair just glared.
Tech couldn’t say anything.
Wrecker knelt beside him, but didn’t touch him.
“Hey, Tech, we’re gonna talk to the Kaminoans about this, okay? We’re all going.”
Tech nodded.
“Can I help you up?”
Tech held out a hand. He might have squeezed Wrecker’s hand much too hard as he helped him to his feet.
Mar glared at all of them.
“Fine, let’s go then.”
He led them out, Tech starting to pick and scratch at his face. He barely felt it.
Wrecker was a sturdy presence behind him, and despite his distress, Tech was grateful for that. He was grateful to all of them for standing up for him. Yet he felt so stupid and ashamed about it. He kept his head down as they walked.
“Unfortunately,” Tech went on, “I’ve also picked at my skin when my datapad wasn’t available and I was in distress.
“Ow,” Omega responded.
“Indeed, though it didn’t hurt at the time.”
Omega looked at the drop on either side of them, and then at his datapad. She was starting to wish it was in one of his pouches, or clipped onto his belt. What if he dropped it? Those words almost left her mouth, but she wasn’t sure he needed that anxiety.
Despite enjoying Tech’s presence, and the beautiful scenery, Omega was getting bored.
Then Tech said, “I had a trainer take it away from me once—the datapad.”
“I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”
“It was.”
“What happened?”
He sat down along the bridge, and patted the spot beside him. Omega took it. For this he did put his datapad on his belt, and Omega breathed a sigh of relief.
“If the datapad helps CT-9902,” Nala Se said to Mar Pellis in the bright meeting room they were in, “then I see no problem in him having it.”
“He should at least put it down for training exercises.”
Nala Se clasped her hands. “Did I specify that he should?”
Mar Pellis shifted on his feet.
Nala Se went on, “Quite frankly I do not see an issue, especially since CT-9902’s brain can take in much more than yours, and it works much faster. Perhaps your brain functioning is too slow to realize this.”
Tech stopped picking long enough to look up and watch the whole thing. He wasn’t entirely surprised Nala Se was standing up for him as well, but for these past horrible minutes he’d assumed all adults would be against him, that he’d never get to touch his datapad again.
Wrecker took his hand he was about to scratch along his cheek, and Tech bristled. Wrecker leaned in and whispered, “You’re bleeding.”
He showed Tech his fingernails.
Which had blood on them.
Ah, so I am.
He held onto Wrecker tightly, and began clenching and unclenching his hand. He supposed it was better than picking, but his other hand wanted to do it as well. With a barely-there sigh Crosshair took his other hand.
Hunter eyed them, and then Tech’s face, and nodded.
Hunter’s approval made Tech calm somewhat, and he loosened his grip.
“No, Mistress,” Mar Pellis eventually answered.
“Then I see no problem here… save for you, perhaps.”
Nala Se took Tech’s datapad, and then handed it back to him.
“Here you go, CT-9902.”
Tech breathed a sigh of relief as his hands were released and he could touch it. It was off for now, but he pressed the buttons anyway.
“Thank you, Mistress Se.” He was surprised he had his voice again.
“And what about their punishment?” Mar asked, looking aghast.
“What punishment?” Nala Se asked.
“They have been talking back to authority.”
“Not quite. Seeing as you have no authority.”
“What?”
“Please leave Kamino at your earliest convenience.”
“And my pay?”
“I am afraid to announce that Kamino does not pay trainers who have not finished their work with us. Good day.”
Mar Pellis’s mouth opened and closed for a bit, and then he stormed out, shooting a glare at Tech.
Tech pressed a button particularly hard. That felt nice.
Once he left Nala Se turned to all of them, saying, “You do realize incidents like this cannot happen again, but I recognize the circumstances, and admire that you all stood up for CT-9902. I will find a trooper to fill in today’s training exercise. You are dismissed.”
Hunter led them out. Tech wanted to hide for having caused so much trouble, even though he was grateful to his squad.
He expected a small bit of disdain from each of them, but Hunter smiled at him, and Wrecker wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Crosshair gave him a nod.
Tech ducked his head, but felt himself smiling just a bit.
His squad had been there for him when he’d needed them, and he would remember that.
“So Nala Se fired the trainer?” Omega asked as Tech was reaching the end of his story.
“Yes, on the spot.”
Omega, who was a bit worked up and angry now at hearing of Tech’s mistreatment, said emphatically, “Good.”
“I think Nala Se perhaps spoke with the other trainers as well because my datapad was never an issue again.”
“That’s good. I can’t imagine how awful that felt.”
Tech took out his datapad now, maybe feeling something at retelling the story.
“Are you okay?” Omega asked.
He lifted his datapad up in answer, “I will be.”
“Tech, Omega,” Hunter said through comms, “the mercenaries are heading your way. We took care of the smugglers. Hold the bridge until we get there”
Omega stood, saying into her comm, “How far out are the mercenaries?”
She got her bow ready, the purple adding more beauty to the night.
Tech was standing now too, datapad already clipped to his belt, blasters in hand.
They got their answer, hearing movement through the trees, and a mercenary lunged out at the bridge.
Omega and Tech fired as one, and she idly wondered if firing his blasters brought him the same sort of comfort. It was hard to tell, but she felt good fighting side by side with him, and felt even better that he had opened up to her. He trusted her, and she trusted him. This mission would be no problem at all.