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“More reinforcements on their way.” Crosshair reported over the comms.
“We need to do something about these clankers!” Hunter ordered as he sliced through a droid and rolled away from three others crowding him.
Clone Force 99 was meant to be investigating how the Separatists were getting so many reinforcements so quickly in this sector and deal with it so that the battalion on the ground could finally make some progress. They’d found a droid deployment post with information on multiple droid factories, many of which the Republic did not know about, and were about to destroy it when they were caught and the seemingly unending supply of droid reinforcements was turned on them.
Tech scanned the area as they fought. “Crosshair, do you see any computers or terminals connected to the base? If we were to access one of those, we could remotely shut down the droids for a time.”
There was silence over the comm before Crosshair replied. “Affirmative. Got eyes on a terminal by the west hangar bay doors.”
“Echo, can you get there?” Hunter asked.
“Negative, Sarge. Wrecker and I are pinned down on the east side. Could use some backup, actually.”
Wrecker didn’t even rebut that as Tech spotted the pair ducked behind some crates, droids closing in on them. He ducked under a B-2’s arm as he scanned the western wall and spotted the terminal Crosshair had found. He stayed low as fire rained around him. He barely raised his blaster to shoot, trusting his brothers to cover him as he ducked and weaved towards the panel. Sure enough, a line of droids to his right fell as he ran past.
He frowned when he reached the terminal, datapad ready to plug in. “The terminal would be more useful if it wasn’t damaged.”
Crosshair scoffed. “We’re not exactly in a position to be choosy. Figure it out.”
Tech tucked away his datapad and pulled out a tool to ease the cover off the terminal. He almost dropped it when a sparking wire sent a small current through his hand. Luckily, his armour was insulated enough that only his hand felt the shock. He shook it off as he assessed the damage, ducking just in time to dodge a stray bolt.
“Damn it, Tech, leave it before you get killed!” Hunter ordered.
“Negative. I can work with this.”
“Be quick then, battle’s hard enough without one less man.”
He hummed and began his repairs. He just needed the terminal functional enough to get a signal through to the droids. He pulled his hand away when it brushed against another particularly damaged wire. He shook his hand again and frowned when he realised that was the primary connection between this terminal and the rest of the base. It was damaged enough that power was struggling to reach the terminal, but if he could fix that, he could access what he needed.
He fiddled with the terminal a few seconds longer, trying to figure out how to fix the connection without touching the sparking wire too much. He’d disconnected another and manipulated it to create a new path for the power to take, he just needed to close the gap.
His work was interrupted by a pained cry from Wrecker and another order to “Hurry it up, Tech!” from Hunter.
This was taking too long. Hesitating for only a moment, he reached in and grabbed the wire. He grit his teeth against the burning in his hand as he pulled it where it needed to go. He almost had it when the burning forced him to let go. With a frustrated, pained hiss, he caught the wire with his other hand before it could fall back to its original position. Ignoring the burning pain in both his hands now, he made the connection and watched as the panel lit up.
While the adrenaline pumped through him, dulling the pain somewhat, he got to work typing and searching for the shutdown order. His fingers already felt stiff and clumsy, forcing him to retype his orders and codes multiple times before finally, the order went out. The sounds of battle behind him quieted until just the sounds of droids collapsing and his brothers’ panting filled the space.
His own breathing was heavy as he tried to ignore how his hands trembled.
“Alright boys, back to the rendezvous.”
Tech followed the others as they headed back to the ship before the droids could reboot. Echo helped Wrecker who groaned as he limped along. He could see the blaster burn on his right thigh, but after some bacta and rest he’d be fine. Hunter and Echo seemed alright, just exhausted from the intense battle. He tried to ignore the burning in his hands as it got worse as they walked and the adrenaline faded.
Crosshair was already at the ship when they reached it, powered up and ready to take off. He seemed unhurt too when Tech automatically moved to join him in the cockpit. That was unsurprising considering his sniping position away from the main battle, but was still comforting to see. His brother didn’t acknowledge him as he sat, focused on getting the ship off the planet.
Tech flinched when he went to grab the copilot controls to help. His brow furrowed when spots began to appear in his vision and the burning pain got worse. That caught Crosshair’s eye, and he glanced over to see him curling over his hands now tucked close to his chest. He returned his focus to flying the ship and shouted back to the others.
“Someone come get Tech before he passes out.”
Tech went to rebut him, but was stopped by a sudden wave of light-headedness. When he finally blinked it away and focused, he realised his chair had been spun around and Hunter’s concerned face hovered in front of him. He seemed relieved when Tech focused on him, but the concerned furrow never left.
“You good, Tech?”
Unable to find the right words, he simply nodded. Hunter stood properly with a hand on Tech’s shoulder.
“Good. Let’s get you to the back so we can check you out.”
With Hunter’s help, he rose slowly. The world spun around him and he reached out to grab Hunter for support, only for the burning pain to grow once again. He pulled his hand back with a cry, cradling both hands close to his chest again. He let Hunter hold him steady and guide him to the back of the ship to sit on a bunk.
He blinked when he felt someone pulling his hands away from where he’d curled around them. He must have been more out of it than he realised as he registered Hunter now sat on a crate in front of him, medkit open beside him. Wrecker lay on the bunk behind him, Echo hovering by his side and keeping him from getting up. They both watched on with concern.
His focus was drawn back to Hunter when he pulled his hands free and held them out to inspect. A sympathetic hiss left him as he looked them over. Realising he hadn’t taken the time to look at them himself, Tech followed his eyes.
Somehow, looking seemed to make the pain flare again. Charred lines streaked across the palms and fingers of his ruined gloves. The smell was awful now that he was paying attention, and he felt his stomach turn at it. He automatically tried to flex his fingers, barely choking back a cry.
Hunter’s hands shifted to hold them still without touching the burns. Tech blinked up at him and realised he was turned slightly to talk to Echo behind him. He barely registered any of the words, and distantly knew that was a bad thing but couldn’t find it in him to try to do anything about it.
Hunter turned back to address him, and he did his best to focus and listen.
“Alright, Tech. We’ve got to get these gloves off so we can see what we’re dealing with. We’ll give you a hypo for the pain, but we don’t have anything to knock you out for it, sorry. We’ll do our best to be quick.”
Tech swallowed as he registered all of that information. He nodded. Hunter nodded back and pulled up a hypo he’d already taken from the medkit. After the brief pinch, he tried to relax a little as the meds dulled the pain slightly, though not as much as he’d hoped.
Hunter left his left hand sitting in his lap as he gently took the right one. He inspected it closely, mouth set in a grim line. He glanced up at Tech’s face. “Sorry.”
Tech had no time to respond before pain shot through his hand as Hunter began peeling the glove off. He instinctively tried to pull back, but he was held firm. His heart began to thunder in his ears as the burning pain grew and grew, engulfing his hand. Voices talked around him but he didn’t hear anything that was said. He felt a hand on his shoulder before the world went dark.
Tech blinked his eyes open. He was panting for breath and pain radiated through his trembling hand. He shifted and realised he was leaning against something. Lifting his head to investigate, he found Echo sitting next to him, holding him close but focused on something else with a concerned frown. The movement caught his attention and he looked down, frown smoothing into a relieved smile.
“Hey, Tech. Back with us?”
He blinked at the question and looked over to where Echo had been looking. He found Hunter sitting in front of them and everything came back to him. He nodded. “I am back, yes.”
Hunter offered a smile, but it wavered. “Great. We got one hand done, but we haven’t started on the other yet. So, uh, sorry but we gotta do that again.”
Tech looked down at his lap and found one hand free of its glove, trembling as pain seared through it despite the bacta soaked wrappings. A glove still covered the other. With a sigh, he leaned into Echo and nodded. His brother held him firmly as Hunter carefully picked up his left hand.
Barely recovered from the first round, black spots invaded Tech’s vision within moments of Hunter working at the glove. This time, he managed to hold still aside from an initial flinch, though much of that could be attributed to Echo’s support. Within seconds, the pain and darkness overwhelmed him once again.
When he woke up this time, he was laid out on the bunk. It couldn’t have been long, but none of his brothers were hovering around him anymore. He moved to push himself up to sitting, but fell back with a gasp. Pain shot through his hands. He was breathing through it when a voice caught his attention. He opened his eyes and looked over to see Wrecker still on the opposite bunk.
Wrecker lit up when he looked at him, hiding some of the concern. “Hey, Tech. You alright?”
Tech took a breath and pushed himself up with his elbows until he was sitting. He noted that he was still in his armour. “I am fine, Wrecker.”
“You sure? You passed out twice.”
He huffed as he investigated his thoroughly wrapped hands. “Yes, well we should not be surprised considering the presumed severity of the burns.”
Wrecker sat up too. “Yeah, we’re headed to a medcentre. Hunter said we can at least pick up more supplies there. We don’t have to stay since no one’s dying.”
Tech shuffled to sit on the edge of the bed to begin removing his armour. Frustration quickly grew when he was unable to bend his fingers to easily reach the clasps, or easily fit the bulk into the gap in the first place. Instead, he was stuck clumsily swiping at them. He noted that the hypo seemed to finally be working as the pain didn’t grow to be completely unbearable as he put pressure on the wounds.
Wrecker protested. “Hey, I don’t think you should be doing that. Someone else can help.”
“I can do it myself, it’s fine.” To prove his point, he finally got his finger under a clasp and undid it, loosening the armour, but not removing it with the other clasps still firmly in place. He began repeating the process with the next one, inhaling sharply when he pressed against a particularly bad burn.
Wrecker, who had been watching anxiously, finally shook his head and called into the front of the ship. Tech ignored him and the footsteps that soon entered the room as he worked the second clasp free.
A hand caught the armour before it could clatter to the ground and placed it on the floor. Tech kept ignoring it until his arms were held still and he was forced to finally acknowledge his brother. Crosshair met his glare with his own, scowling as he eyed Tech’s meagre progress.
“You done, di’kut?”
Tech tried to pull his hands free, but Crosshair held firm.
“He’s trying to get his armour off but it’s hurting him.” Wrecker snitched. Despite himself, Tech sent a glare his way too.
Crosshair scoffed. “I can see that.” He lowered Tech’s hands into his lap and held them there. “Move these and I sic the hounds on you.” He held them there until Tech gave a reluctant affirmative.
He fought the urge to move as Crosshair made quick work of his armour, setting it all down in a neat pile beside him. He didn’t speak as he worked and pulled Tech around as he saw fit to reach every clasp. Tech grumbled as he let him, glaring down at his hands sat uselessly in his lap. He wasn’t some cadet, he should be able to take his own armour off.
When Crosshair stepped back, Tech sat back on his bunk, definitely not sulking. That was what Crosshair did in such situations. Tech was simply mourning the use of his hands and keeping his frustrations to himself. No need to make more of a fuss.
He was startled from his not sulking when a ration bar hit him in the face. He reflexively caught it before it could bounce to the floor, though it was more like trapping it between the bunk and his heavily wrapped hand. When he lifted it, he found that it was already unwrapped. At least he was spared from a canteen of water to the head, the already open lid forcing Crosshair to make do with leaving it on the crate pulled up beside the bunk. Looking across the room, he saw Wrecker already chomping into his own ration.
“Eat something, drink something, you know the drill.” Crosshair said as he walked back to the cockpit. “Try not to die or whatever, I can only keep Hunter off your backs for so long.”
With that, he disappeared. Tech eyed the ration held awkwardly in his hands and took a bite. Wrecker noticed his mood.
“C’mon Tech, it’s not too bad. We’ll be back in action before you know it!”
Tech knew exactly how long this recovery would likely take for him, and he was already dreading every minute of it. But he didn’t say that, best not to drag Wrecker down when he’s just trying to help in his own way. Instead, he took another bite of the ration and continued his not sulking.
Tech stared down at his hands. In the dark of the ship’s night cycle, it wasn’t easy to see them, but he knew they were there by the persistent burning. He was sure he’d been due for pain meds a few hours ago, but it hadn’t been too bad then, so he’d ignored it. Of course, pain tends to increase as a dose of painkillers wears off, so now he sat on his bunk in the dark staring at his burning hands while his brothers snore around him. And now, in the middle of the night, he couldn’t sleep without irritating them and making the pain worse. So, they stayed in his lap.
Being kept awake like this just gave him more time to wallow. He’d stayed up all night before, it was an unfortunate habit and side effect of his enhancement, but it was different when it wasn’t his restless mind keeping him awake, but his damaged and useless hands. None of his brothers had made a fuss whenever he’d required their assistance for anything, but he hated every moment of it. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate their support, he just felt so useless like this, forced to rely on his brothers rather than going to them on his own terms.
Shuffling caught his attention, and he looked up to see Echo rolling over on his bunk. He stayed there for a short while before rolling back over and sitting up with a tired huff. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the bunks as if keeping tabs on each of his brothers. When his eyes fell on Tech, he sighed and got up.
Tech didn’t say anything as he approached to sit next to him. He just sat there with his useless hands in his lap, burning and stinging against their wrappings.
“Can’t sleep?” Echo asked softly. Tech just let out a defeated huff in response. Echo’s eyes followed his own down to his hands. “When was your last hypo?”
Again, Tech said nothing, it’s not like his mouth and vocal cords wanted to work at the moment anyway. That familiar frustration and overwhelming, uncontrollable situation kept them locked up and as useless as his hands. But Echo was still waiting for an answer, so he just shrugged.
Echo’s eyes narrowed with disapproval before he left to quietly rummage. He wasn’t gone long before he returned with a hypo in his hand. Tech placidly tilted his head to give him room to administer it.
“You know, taking these when you’re scheduled to tends to help make you more comfortable, and help you sleep. Never thought I’d have to be telling you of all people that.”
Tech forced words past his lips. “Slept earlier.”
Echo levelled a look at him. “Passing out does not count as proper sleep. Trust me, I used to try to pull that all the time.”
Tech didn’t answer and instead just went back to staring at his useless, burning hands.
Echo hummed. “I get it. Not being able to use your hands anymore is rough, especially when you rely on them.”
“But you still have a hand.” Tech couldn’t help the verbal jab.
Echo looked at his own hands with an amused huff. “Yeah, true. But I still had to relearn a lot with this one, it was my dominant hand I lost.” He looked at Tech again. “But, if anything, that proves that you’ll get better too. You’ll have some nice relaxing days off that drive you mad because you can’t do most of the things you usually can, and it’ll be frustrating and feel pointless. But once they start healing and you can actually move them, it’ll still be a pain working around it. But then, once you’ve adjusted and everything’s healed, you’ll be back to your old habits with a new appreciation for having hands in the first place. And maybe even your brothers if you let us help.”
Tech resisted the urge to try to curl his fingers as he continued to study them. He could feel the hypo starting to work, dulling the sharp edge of the pain. He couldn’t deny the truth in Echo’s words, he’d been thinking most of them all day. The next few days would be awful as he sat uselessly around the ship watching his brothers go through their routines and not being able to do his own alongside them. Slowly regaining the use of them might actually be worse, knowing that he had more functionality in them without being able to use it for anything. But once all that was over…
He looked over at Echo’s hands. The scomp whirred quietly and the hand sat next to it. Without warning, he leaned against Echo with a sigh. His brother startled at the suddenness, but leaned back into him.
Echo chuckled. “Ready to sleep?”
Tech hummed and didn’t move. His hands still tingled under the wrappings. They were sore and stiff, but it was becoming manageable again, and he was tired. Just for now he could take Echo’s suggestion to let him help. Just for now, while he was a comfortable pillow and Tech was tired. He could go back to ignoring it in the morning.
Tech winced as he clumsily typed at his datapad. Each push of a button put pressure on the burns and sent an uncomfortable pain through them, but he had worked through worse before. That fact did not prevent the frustrated sigh when the datapad slipped from where he’d been resting it in his lap.
He didn’t look up when he heard someone approach, continuing on stubbornly with his work. He let out an indignant squawk when the datapad was snatched from his lap. He glared at Crosshair, who sprawled lazily onto the bunk, back against the wall and legs slung over Tech’s own.
“What are you doing?” Crosshair asked casually as his eyes skimmed over the screen. Tech reached for it, but it was pulled away. His brother’s eyes narrowed and he typed something briefly.
Tech huffed when he failed to reach it. He doubted his current ability to grab a solid hold of it to snatch it back, but that wasn’t the point. “I’m trying to log my findings from the mission. Give that back.” He swiped again.
Crosshair hummed, unperturbed. “What did you learn?” His eyes never left the datapad. They narrowed on something else on it before he quickly typed again. Tech realised what he was doing as he watched his brother’s nimble fingers work across the keys.
When he finished reading what Tech had typed so far, his eyes flicked up expectantly. Tech sat his hands uselessly in his lap as he stared back. He resisted the urge to adjust his goggles.
“Well, it appears that they are redoubling their efforts to produce battle droids, especially within the Mid Rim.”
Crosshair’s eyes returned to the datapad as Tech spoke. Despite them both knowing what was already recorded, it only felt right to start from the beginning again. As soon as he reached the point of the disruption, Crosshair began to type. His fingers, while not as fast as Tech’s could get, were fast and nimble. He easily kept up with his brother.
When Tech read through it later, he would find that Crosshair had stuck true to his preferred formatting and organisation, and had even simplified some of his longer rants into shorter explanations better suited to a written record. There were areas for Tech to expand upon, as there always was, but everything Tech dictated to Crosshair had been dutifully recorded and carefully organised. There were only a few remarks from his brother sprinkled in that, despite some breaking from the meticulous formatting, Tech always found excuses to keep.