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Crosshair resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably as Tech pulled another stitch through his side. Clearly, he wasn’t resisting enough because Tech nudged him with his foot. He nudged his brother back but redoubled his efforts to sit still and let him get the wound in his side finally closed. He’d been hit with some shrapnel from an explosion on the mission they’d just completed. Not one of Wrecker’s luckily, or he would be hovering over him too. Instead, he was lying on his bunk, probably hoping to get some sleep.
Tech finally tied off the last stitch and placed a bacta patch over the wound, letting Crosshair pull the top of his blacks and armour back on. He grimaced at how uncomfortable the movement was. Hunter emerged from the cockpit right as he secured the last clasp.
“Hope you’re still feeling fresh, boys, we’ve got another one.”
“Aw, already? We hardly got a break before this one!” Wrecker complained, not sitting up on his bunk.
“No rest for the weary,” Crosshair quipped. “What have we got this time?”
“Looks like a senator needs rescuing. Wandered too far into Seppie territory or something and got grabbed. He’s being held at one of their bases planetside for ransom.” Hunter sent Crosshair a look. “You sure you’re up for another one already?”
Crosshair rolled his eyes. “If we sat out after every scratch we got, we’d never get our job done.”
Hunter huffed with a small smile. “Good. We’ll be there in a few hours. Rest up while you can, all of you.”
They all managed to grab a couple hours of sleep before they reached the planet. As they approached, it revealed itself to be primarily dusty savannah with long orange grasses and sparsely scattered trees with wide canopies. The base they needed to infiltrate was an outpost just a few klicks from the nearest city, so Tech scrambled the Marauder’s signal on approach, landing on the opposite side to the city.
The outpost itself consisted of one large sandstone building flanked by two smaller ones and a smattering of even smaller ones that looked like hovels in comparison. It was all surrounded by towering, reinforced walls of the same material. It looked like a manor or estate that had been converted by the Separatists into a military base. Cheaper and easier, they supposed.
They gathered in the cockpit for Tech’s report. “Intel suggests the Senator is being held in the central building on one of the upper levels. They are likely keeping him in a repurposed bedroom close to their comms room for the sake of the ransom. It should not be an issue getting inside, but there is heightened security with this high profile prisoner, we do not want to cause a scene.”
All eyes turned to Wrecker, who groaned.
“Fine, I won’t blow anything up.”
“Good, because this is quite a historic building they’ve commandeered, it would be a shame to see it damaged.”
“And explosions could hurt the Senator if he’s too close,” Hunter added. Tech nodded.
“What’s the plan then?” Crosshair asked.
“We get in and out as quietly as possible. Crosshair, you stay on lookout, the rest of us will find and secure the Senator.”
Crosshair narrowed his eyes. “Fine.”
Hunter sighed, “I’m not just making you lookout because you’re hurt, I know you can still fight. Be ready to provide backup if we need it.”
Crosshair smirked at that. Whether it was because of the amended orders or that he’d managed to annoy Hunter, who could say. Either way, with that resolved, everyone was satisfied with their bare bones plan and prepared to head out.
Crosshair infiltrated the base with his brothers, getting inside the walls before breaking off to find a nest, ignoring his brothers’ warnings to be careful. He’d had stitches before, he knew how to treat them.
He winced as he jumped from some nearby crates to a balcony, then swung himself up to the roof of one of the much smaller buildings. He pushed past the pain and got up without a problem. The roof he’d chosen was flat with an old walled off garden that hadn’t been tended probably since the war began, any plants in it wilting or completely taking over.
He had a good view of this side of the base; so long as his brothers didn’t wander too far away from the target, he would have no problem keeping an eye out.
The throbbing in his side died down as he sat in his perch. He listened for any movement around him, clocking the route of every droid patrol he saw. Security was heightened here thanks to their special guest but most of them seemed to be stationed inside, every window he peered through he caught at least a glimpse of a clanker. His brothers were going to have a hell of a time getting past all of those, and he reported that to Hunter.
His brother swore. “We need to avoid a firefight here as much as possible, can’t have the Senator caught in the crossfire.”
Crosshair surveyed the base, landing on one of the two smaller buildings to his right. “I can draw them out.” He could feel his brother thinking over the comm. “It’s either that or you’re blasting your way through.”
“He is the only one in a position do to so, Wrecker’s brand of distraction will lead to a higher chance of injury to the Senator.” Tech butted in.
“Fine, do your thing, Cross. Let us know if you need help.”
Crosshair didn’t entertain that with a response, he didn’t need to deal with Hunter’s mother henning. He’d done more with worse.
He waited for the patrols to loop around again before peeking over the edge of the roof. Seeing the coast was clear, he dropped down, ignoring the flare of pain from the impact, and began moving swiftly through the base, weaving between structures and dodging patrols.
When he got close to the exterior wall away from the main building, he pulled out a handful of mirror pucks and began flinging them into place along the it. His first toss faltered when it pulled on the wound in his side, but he grit his teeth and kept going. He moved along then away from the wall a few times as he did so, placing pucks winding through the alleys between the buildings and structures. When he had a few nice lines set up, he heard a clanker patrol approaching. Just in time.
He leapt and pulled himself onto another rooftop, ignoring a particularly sharp pull in his side when he was forced to leap higher than last time without a step to help. This roof was similar to the last one but with a clear sight of the pucks along the outer wall and a solid wall facing into the base, covering him completely.
Aiming for the closest puck, he watched the lead droid of that patrol enter his line of sight and begin walking towards the exterior wall. He flicked to the neighbouring puck, seeing a similar view down another route. Letting out a breath, he pulled the trigger, swiftly sending a bolt down each path. They didn’t take down all the clankers, he needed someone up to call for backup, but a good number of them fell from the chaotic ricochets.
The remaining ones let out panicked shouts, and he saw one reach for a comm. A few seconds later, he heard an alarm ring out and the sound of many more droids marching towards his location.
Using his pucks, he continued to rain fire down each of the patrol routes he’d seen pass through the area. He couldn’t fire too quickly with a Firepuncher, but the rate and spread of fire seemed to convince the droids that there were multiple assailants by the walls.
His side seemed to be throbbing more persistently than it had been, every time he twisted to adjust his aim, pain flared. But he ignored it, he had to focus, letting the adrenaline and focus mask the pain. He didn’t have time for distractions.
Droids continued to arrive as quickly as they fell. One spotted one of the mirrors and was about to question it to the others before Crosshair swiftly silenced it. His brothers had better appreciate this.
The waves finally began to slow when his comm pinged. He tapped it twice in acknowledgement. Firing off a final few shots, he lowered his Firepuncher and approached the edge of the roof to peer down over it. He blinked away a wave of dizziness, catching himself on the wall beside him as it passed.
Seeing nothing on that side, he dropped down from the roof, staggering a little on his landing, and again having to catch himself on the wall. While he was slightly bent over, he glanced down at his side. He couldn’t see anything wrong through the dark armour, but now that he’d acknowledged it, all the ceaseless throbbing he’d been ignoring demanded his attention.
A silent hiss escaped him when he straightened, sharp pain exploding from his wound. That wasn’t good, but he had to move. He could hear the clankers searching the area for their attackers, and his brothers were on their way out of there. Once he regrouped with them and got back to the ship, he’d get Tech to look at him again. Probably redo his definitely torn stitches. Maybe climbing those roofs like that wasn’t his best idea.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself off the wall, blinking away the wave of dizziness that threatened to topple him. He looped back around towards his original perch, then angled towards the exterior wall. His brothers would be headed down the same route as they entered by, so he’d meet them where they split off.
His brothers were already there when he reached the rendezvous, hopefully they’d only been waiting a few seconds. He tried to hide his growing breathlessness as he approached, subtly leaning against a pole as he looked over them. He noted the small man standing nervously by Wrecker; the Senator, presumably. He shared a nod with Hunter and they took off for the final run.
The others didn’t miss how Crosshair swayed on his feet as they made their way back through the base. He’d been off since he’d caught up with them, and Hunter had half a mind to prod him about his stitches but they were in the middle of a mission. One that had gone exceptionally well so far. While they made their way back out through the base, he didn’t miss how Crosshair kept finding something to subtly lean on whenever they paused and stayed quieter than usual. He’d expected at least some snide remark about having to run that distraction. Once they got back to the ship, he’d get Tech to look at him.
While stopped at an intersection, Wrecker went to put a steadying hand on their brother’s shoulder when he swayed again. This time he went completely lax, Firepuncher hitting the ground moments before he would have had Wrecker not caught him. The Senator they were escorting watched with wide eyes.
“Dammit, Cross.” Hunter muttered, motioning for Wrecker to put their little brother down.
Tech approached to pull off his chestplate to reveal blood-soaked blacks. Without a word, he pulled out his medkit to put gauze over the reopened injury, wrapping it tightly to keep pressure and hold it in place. Crosshair groaned unconsciously.
“Is he alright?” The Senator asked, meekly.
Hunter looked down at the man with a nod. “He’ll be fine, sir. We’ve handled worse.”
The Senator seemed unconvinced, but quieted down. That was good, they were still deep in enemy territory and needed to move.
Speaking of, “Is he good to move?”
“Affirmative.” Tech said as he stood, letting Wrecker pick Crosshair back up. “I will need to redo his stitches once we get back to the ship. I will leave finding out how exactly they tore to you.”
“How gracious of you.” Hunter surveyed his squad. “Alright, let’s move. Stay close, Senator.”
They stayed low, taking out any clankers that crossed their path, but whatever Crosshair’s distraction had been seemed to have largely cleared their route to the Marauder. When they met a patrol close to the outer wall of the base, Hunter and Tech took the front while Wrecker stuck close to the Senator, herding him behind cover in a narrow gap between two structures. He carefully placed Crosshair with him and immediately started blasting once his hands were free.
At a panicked yelp, Hunter glanced towards the cover as he fought. He saw the Senator scrambling to catch Crosshair when he shifted, stirring at the noise and lights around him. He almost slumped out from their cover before the Senator pulled him back up and leaned him against the wall, head lolling.
Once the droids were scrap metal, they checked on the pair to find them unharmed. The Senator was pressing his hands to Crosshair’s side, where the blood was beginning to leak through the bandages. He gladly let Tech take over, sitting back and looking down at his blood stained hands with clear distress. Wrecker began looking around before tearing the fabric from an awning and offering it to him, which he gladly took to wipe his hands with.
Wrecker picked Crosshair back up and they restarted the final stretch of their exit. No more patrols crossed their path, and as soon as they cleared the wall, the final run to the Marauder was as easy as they came.
Once on board, Tech disappeared to get the ship in the air while Hunter and Wrecker looked after Crosshair and their guest in the back. Hunter pulled out their medkit, grabbing a hypo and the suture kit. When Wrecker placed their little brother on the bunk, Hunter administered the hypo and they began pulling the armour and blacks out of the way while he relaxed into a deeper sleep.
With the armour out of the way, they could see that he was pale and his breathing was shorter than normal. He was also trembling with small shivers as the blood loss stole any warmth from him. Wrecker got some blankets ready for when he was no longer bleeding over everything.
The Senator hovered awkwardly until Tech returned from the cockpit. He swapped places with Hunter, who had just finished removing the torn stitches from Crosshair’s side. He rose to let Tech take his place, taking the Senator by the shoulder to guide him into the cockpit, ready to comm command that their precious politician was safe and unharmed and ready to be dropped off with the nearest Republic fleet to return to Coruscant.
Tech sat by the bunk and prepared to stitch his brother’s side back together for the second time in a day. He frowned when he realised how cold and pale he’d gotten.
“Get a transfusion kit ready,” he said without looking up. Wrecker immediately jumped into action, finding the kit and prepping it while Tech focused on the stitches. After placing a bacta patch over the completed stitches, he nodded a thanks to Wrecker and began wiping down Crosshair’s arm to start the line. When he turned to do the same to Wrecker, he eagerly offered his arm without complaint.
When he was done, he sat back and ran a quick sweep of the medscanner over their little brother. Satisfied with the results, he put it away and moved to sit on his own bunk, pulling out his datapad.
“He will be fine, but we are not taking another mission for at least two days. I am not redoing those stitches again.”
Wrecker chuckled and placed the blankets over their brother. Once he got both himself and Crosshair comfortable, he pestered Tech about what he was doing until Hunter returned to the back with the Senator in tow. The man looked anxiously at the still unconscious Crosshair, eyes widening at the line connecting him to Wrecker.
Wrecker leapt to reassure him.
“Don’t worry Mr, uh, Senator. He’ll be up and at em again in no time!”
That didn’t seem to help, but the Senator did offer him an attempt at a reassured smile. It turned out as more of a grimace. Moving swiftly on from that, Hunter guided the Senator to take a seat.
“Better get comfortable. It’s not the longest flight, but it’s still a couple hours to the closest cruiser.”
The Senator seemed to find his voice then. “Thank you for the rescue, troopers. I’m sorry it meant your man getting hurt.”
Hunter waved him off. “It’s fine, that’s not on you. He just didn’t take it as easy as he should have after our last mission.”
“He was sent out injured?”
“There’s a war happening, sir. It doesn’t stop just because we get hurt.”
This seemed to trouble the Senator, but he couldn’t come up with anything else to say. Instead, he sat in one of the crash seats with a concerned furrow to his brow.
Hunter leaned against Tech’s bunk with his arms crossed, keeping an eye on his brothers while they talked about their next move, specifically how much recovery time they could get for Crosshair. It was concerning that he’d managed to reopen the injury enough to pass out mid mission. Once he was awake, and they didn’t have a natborn to keep out of it, he’d have a lot to say to him about it.
He hadn’t expected this to be such a big deal for the Senator, but he guessed it might have been the first time he’d seen something like this. It wouldn’t be their problem for much longer, though. Soon, they’d drop the natborn off and be able to focus on getting Crosshair to sit still and rest before he almost bleeds out again. Three times from the same injury would be close to setting some kind of record for them, he was sure.