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Omega’s skin prickled from days spent in the Pabu sun, and the scent of salt air and weeping maya tree blossoms followed her into the cockpit. The navi-computer was calculating the distance to a hyperspace lane, and as she watched the data populate, the comlink upon her wrist alerted her to a newly received message.
Activating the playback, she expected to hear her Rebellion commander relaying coordinates for her arrival, but she smiled in surprise when the voice that streamed from her device was Hunter’s.
The recording captured his usual gruff tone as he began, “When this message finds you, you’ll be in hyperspace somewhere, heading to your post. You’ll be making a name for yourself in the fight. All the while, I’ll be back here, wishing I was with you.
“You know, these last few days with you home, kid” - he paused, struggling to put his feelings into words - “they were good.”
She chuckled under her breath. “Don’t strain yourself, Mr. Emotional.”
Hunter continued, “I know you’re all grown up now and you don’t need us anymore, but I, uh, I just wanted to let you know that you make us proud.”
The choice of words in his transmission surprised her, and with wide brown eyes, Omega stared out into the void of space.
“Over the cycles, you know, we’ve, uh, we’ve lost a lot,” Hunter’s message continued as his voice seemed to shake. “We’ve done some things that we shouldn’t have, and we’ve made some mistakes. I know it weighs on you when you sit behind the controls of a ship. It weighs on us, too.”
As if Hunter knew his words would bring forth emotions that had been buried with the persistence of time, they both took a long pause as silence fell upon the cockpit.
Omega leaned forward with her elbows against her knees and she closed her eyes as she recalled Tech as faithfully as she could. Memories of learning to fly the Marauder with him by her side made her feel things that she had worked so hard to hide. The grief that existed in Tech’s absence was dangerous, but wallowing in it was worse.
Hunter’s voice interrupted her thoughts as the broadcast continued: “But I know he’s with you, kid.”
Tears began to form in her eyes, and Omega clenched shut in protest, but they fell nonetheless.
“Us clones, you know, Pabu was the first place since, uh,” Hunter grew despondent as Omega listened, knowing that Tech was heavy on his mind, too; then he cleared his throat and persisted, explaining, “Pabu felt like home, yeah? But ‘Mega, you should know it’s not really Pabu that’s home.”
She reached up to quickly wipe the tears from her cheeks, unprepared for what he was to say next.
With a tenderness that betrayed his stoic nature, Hunter revealed, “It’s you. It’s wherever we’re together.”
A sob escaped her throat and Omega began to cry. As the sound echoed alongside Hunter’s voice, it occurred to her for the first time how terribly she missed them. Their absence was a dull ache in her side, like a constant pain that she had grown accustomed to, but suddenly, it was unbearable.
“Now that you’re gone, uh, well,” Hunter began to mumble to himself before he grew impatient with his own discomfort and exclaimed strongly, “Look at us, eh? We used to be special forces and now, we spend our days fishing and our nights looking up at the stars with Batcher, thinking about you!”
His effort to lighten the mood was appreciated, and as her cries began to subside, she placed her commlink on the control panel. She wiped at her face and raked her fingers through her hair, taking a few deep breaths to regain her composure.
The recording continued: “I, um, I tucked a holo-photo into your duffle. I know you pack light and the less personal items, uh, the better, but if you ever miss home, you’ve got a piece of Pabu with you. And, you know, us.”
With acknowledgement washing over her, Omega jumped up and hurried to her bunk where she had left her bag upon boarding. She fumbled impatiently with the zipper, finally opening it to reveal what Hunter had tucked inside: A holo-photo projector beside a weeping maya tree blossom. She took the delicate pink flower into one hand and the projector in her other, and then she activated the device.
The color of moonlight was cast upon her face as Omega stared at her family crowding one another on the shore of Pabu. Capturing the image in the middle was Echo, whose floppy hat protected his complexion from the sun, and on either side of him, Hunter gave a tight lipped smile and Crosshair wore a sly smirk with a toothpick between his lips. Behind them, Wrecker had been caught mid-sentence, judging by his open mouthed expression, as he hoisted up Batcher.
Omega grimaced as she felt the devastating pull of longing, and as she tucked the blossom behind her ear and carried the holo-photo projector with her, she returned to the navi-computer and began to change her course.
Dusk began to fall as Hunter waited on the rocks with Batcher, and their eyes were cast to the stars when Omega’s starship returned into view across the horizon. His pulse quickened as he raced to the site where she was preparing to land. Was she alright? Had there been a malfunction on board? Did she forget something?
The boarding ramp began to lower and as Hunter approached, Omega bounded out of her ship with a distressed look on her face.
“What’s wrong, ‘Mega? Are y-”
The breath was knocked out of his lungs as Omega barrelled into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she murmured into his shoulder, “I just needed to come back home for a moment.”
Hunter steadied himself on his feet and embraced her. The scent of the blossom she had tucked behind her ear created a memory of this moment that he would always recall when sitting beneath the flowering trees on Pabu.
Omega timidly asked, “You’re proud of me?”
The question struck Hunter as absurd and as he backed away from her, the uncertainty in her eyes made him pause. How could she ever doubt something so obvious? But clones weren’t meant to feel, only to fight; maybe these emotions were as unfamiliar to her as they were to him.
Hunter replied, “Of course. You’re the best of us, kid. You’re our kid.”
For a moment, she smiled and appeared as though she might cry, but then Omega stepped away, straightening her posture and raising her chin. “I’ve gotta be leaving now.”
Hunter nodded as she turned to head back to her ship. He had to let her go, hard as it was, but when she glanced over her shoulder one last time, he forced a smile. “Be careful out there and come back when you can.”
Omega grinned mischievously. “You’re missing me already.”
As her ship disappeared into the stars again, Hunter smiled to himself and murmured, “Home’s not really home without you.”