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Hunter’s senses follow Omega as she wanders around the meadow a little distance away, humming and murmuring to herself. He and his brothers work to unpack the cargo hold and organize it, a task they’d been putting off since before the war ended. But now, with credits hard to come by, unless being undercut by a sleazy Transdoshan, it seemed high time to try and sell off anything they didn’t absolutely need.
They had come across Crosshair’s crate of armor. Hunter isn’t even sure which of them managed to get it off Kamino; however, they wordlessly set it aside in the “keep” of the clearing.
Originally, Omega had tried to help, trailing after each of them with endless questions about what she could do and where she should be. Under the circumstances, she became more of a tripping hazard than helpful. So Hunter gave her the crucial task of scouting the perimeter of their camp (which he had already thoroughly done when they arrived while she was occupied with Tech’s discourse about the planet’s atmosphere).
And as Hunter hoped, Omega’s scouting has now evolved into aimless exploration. She is safe and she is happy, which is all he truly wants for her.
Then Omega cries out, a sharp, panicked thing that drives Hunter’s blood cold.
“Omega!” he calls out, dropping the crate of parts from his arms and running in the direction he knows she is. He hears his brothers behind him, keeping pace but letting him lead.
It doesn’t take more than a minute to find her. She’s kneeling in the tall grass, little hiccuping sobs emitting from her shaking form.
“Omega?” Hunter asks, kneeling beside her. “What happened? Where are you hurt?”
Omega looks up at him, face tearstained and lower lip trembling. “I’m not hurt,” she tells him, her voice so grief stricken it breaks his heart. “The baby mouse is!”
That catches him off guard. “A baby mouse?” he asks.
Omega points to the ground in front of her, and a small, round eared creature lies there on its side, tiny chest panting rapidly.
“An animal came out and tried to catch him. I chased it away, but I think it still hurt the mouse,” Omega wails, balled fists coming up to scrub at her face. “Is he going to die?”
“Uh,” Hunter says dumbly. He can’t lie . Well…no! He can’t lie. “Yeah, kid, it's not gonna make it.”
Omega cries harder, voice warbling out, “He’s my f-friend! He was try-trying to find some seeds on the ends of the grass, and I gave him-him some and then he started following me–” A sharp intake of choked breath. “--and I didn’t protect him from that terrible thing that tried to eat–to eat him!”
Hunter looks up at his brothers, silently pleading for one of them to step in. They avert their gazes from his. Cowards .
“You did your very best, Omega,” Hunter says, reaching out and putting a hand on her back in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. “But things still happen. It’s not your fault.”
“He trusted me!”
“He saw you as a source of food,” Tech says.
Hunter sighs. Maybe he doesn’t want his brothers’ help after all.
“Isn’t there anything we can do for him?” Omega pleads, now lifting her eyes to all-knowing Tech specifically.
The engineer sputters out, “Well, there is, uh, not anything to do. It appears the creature will succumb to its injuries in short order.”
“If the little guy’s dying,” Wrecker says, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously, “Least he’s got his friend with ‘im so he’s not alone. Sounds like you were a good friend to the little guy.”
Omega nods and sniffs noisily, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
Hunter catches Echo making a face, but the man doesn’t say anything.
The little rodent only lasts another minute before going still. Omega sniffles, her breathing shuddering in quiet little sobs. Hunter is about to suggest they head back to the ship when Omega asks in a tiny voice, “Can we bury him?”
It isn’t how Hunter expected their quiet afternoon organizing their ship would go, standing next to the miniscule grave of a field mouse, his brothers beside him while Omega puts a bouquet of wildflowers on the mound of dirt.
“Did he have a name?” Wrecker thinks to ask.
“I hadn’t decided yet,” Omega admits.
“I think Whiskers woulda been cute,” Wrecker says.
Omega offers him a wobbly smile. “I like that.”
“Whiskers it is then,” Echo says.
A few weeks ago, Hunter would never have dreamed of taking care of a child. This morning he would never have dreamed of having a funeral for a rodent named Whiskers.
But life is full of strange surprises.