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ajremixTitle: A Prologue of Sorts
Fandom: Star Wars: Republic Commando/Bad Batch
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3049
Characters: Omega, Scorch, Fixer, Boss
Summary: Omega and Fixer's first meeting is a bold escape from Mt. Tantiss
Omega probably should have realized something strange was happening as usually when she was taken anywhere, be it to Nala Se, Hemlock or escorted to a place for necessary activities like exercise or washing, there’d always been no less than three commandos with her. There was only the one before her now but, given he’d been the one that had taken her from Hunter and the others and had directed the commandos that had taken Crosshair from the cell for the last time, she felt a little justified in being more concerned with where he’d be taking her instead of why he was alone.
He reached for the controls and a small section of the rayshield deactivated and she dutifully held her hands through it to be shackled. Omega had been through this enough times to know resisting just meant she’d be stunned and shackled while unconscious. Once she was deemed secure the rest of the shield flickered off and the commando gave her a soft but firm nudge towards the doors.
The path they took was familiar at first. Then, where they normally turned left towards the labs, the commando put a hand to her shoulder and guided her straight and into the lift at the end of the hall. Omega was immediately alert and tense.
“Don’t bring attention to yourself,” the commando said. “Act natural and no one will stop us.”
Stop us? She thought. Stop us from what?
About halfway down the next corridor stood a trooper clearly standing guard. They stepped away from the wall and held out a hand. “Sir, I’ll need authorization before I let you through.”
“IC-1262, prisoner transfer by order of Dr. Hemlock.”
“I wasn’t given any notice of this order.”
“How is your level of security clearance my problem?” Omega could barely hear the discussion over the blood rushing in her ears. What was going on? Where was he taking her?
“Any transfers of special prisoners need to be filed prior to the transfer.”
Omega felt the commando shift behind her and she could just imagine the way he broadened out, seeming to grow in front of the trooper’s eyes. It was something Wrecker often did to intimidate and Echo when he decided a situation needed ending. The trooper took a half step backward.
“Right,” the commando drawled. “I’ll get Hemlock right on that. Because he suddenly reports to you, Trooper.”
The trooper visibly hesitated. “It’s… standard procedure, sir.”
“And I’m sure the Chief Scientist would love to drop what he’s doing and hear all about SOP while he re-authorizes someone he’s already given authorization to move prisoners.”
The trooper’s helmet moved as if they were desperately looking around for someone else to guide them. Eventually they shrank into their armor and stepped aside with a meek, “Yessir, sorry sir.”
They keyed open the door and the two stepped through. Once the door closed behind them the commando held a commlink up and said lowly, “Through the checkpoint, starting timer now. We’ll have six minutes- eight at best -if they actually follow SOP and check on transfer orders.” Whatever the reply was Omega didn’t hear it but the commando answered, “Copy that. On our way.” His hand fell on her shoulder again, silently guiding her down the halls and turns until Omega saw the signs for their destination: the hangars.
She dug in her heels. No- she didn’t know where they’d be going or why but she couldn’t leave Crosshair here. She had to find out what happened to him, she wasn’t going to leave him behind again.
The hand on her should tightened and forced her forward. “Just a reminder,” the commando said in a low tone, “not being stunned is a privilege. No one would look twice if I lugged your unconscious body around. So keep walking.”
For a moment she was gripped with the urge to fight. But he was right, Omega had gotten a bit of a reputation early on about needing to be subdued whenever she was taken out of her cell and she wouldn’t be able to get any information or formulate an escape if she was knocked out.
I’ll be back, she swore to Crosshair in her mind, even as the promise felt both empty and heavy in her heart.
They walked through the open hangar doors into the hangar itself and Omega was surprised that commando was right. Asides from an occasional glance, no one looked twice at them, everyone carrying on with their duties and either assuming the commando was doing the same or was too intimidated to question him.
“In the back right,” he said just low enough for Omega to hear. “Bay 13.”
In the aforementioned bay sat a shuttle in the colors of a medical transport. It was small, not made for long deep space flights, its wings folded up and ramp lowered.
Omega hesitated again. She really was being taken away from wherever this place was. There was another push, a little more insistent, to her back. “Pick up the pace,” the commando said in a low voice. “The casual act won’t do us much good if someone is smart enough to ask questions.”
She could cause a scene. Right here. Draw attention to them. Even a commando would have a hard time crossing that distance while carrying her- conscious or not -dodging anyone trying to stop him and get the shuttle moving before someone was able to shutter the doors. But would staying here really be the smart thing to do? She didn’t know how long she’d been captured but it had to have been at least a month by now and neither she nor Crosshair, in his lucid moments, had been able to figure out an escape. She hadn’t gotten any information on where he’d been taken or if he was even still alive. Omega may not know where they’d be going but it at least would be an opportunity for her to escape or get a message out.
Lowering her head and hunching her shoulders to look as much like a defeated prisoner as she could, Omega stretched out her stride. With each step her heart pounded harder and she became more aware of everyone around them, wanting to look around to see if anyone had become suspicious yet. Before she was able to work herself into an anxious state the ramp was under her feet and she scurried in, adrenaline making her tremble as the commando hit the ramp’s controls.
He lifted his head up to call out, “On board and ramp secure. We’re good to go, Three-Eight.”
From the cockpit above came a female voice with a slight Coruscanti accent. “This is shuttle PMF-2270-3 requesting clearance for takeoff.”
“/Shuttle PMF-2270-3, you are cleared for take off through Bay E-1./”
“Commencing takeoff procedure.”
Her escort took a few steps forward and turned to call up to their pilot, “Ordo know you created a vocal mask using his wife’s voice samples?”
“When have I cared what Ordo thinks?” A decidedly masculine clone voice replied. Omega was too short to see anything but the pilot’s chair from her vantage point. “Secure the passenger and get up here. We haven’t gotten out yet.”
“Yessir.”
The shuttle rumbled under their feet, tilting slightly as it moved for the bay doors. The commando herded her to the enclosed space in the back. It opened at their approach revealing a bare bones med bay though Omega noted that some of the machines were clearly installed recently, leaving very little space asides from a couple jump seats along the wall and another commando in the space between two medical cots. Omega had difficulty processing the fact that Crosshair was strapped into one while the other that the commando was bent over held-
“Tech!” She charged forward, ramming into the commando’s side with as much force as her much smaller body could muster. “Get away from him!”
Without having room to maneuver either her or himself, the commando took her momentum with just a slight rocking. “Why,” he said in a tight, icy voice, not even looking at her, “is she here? I’m trying to work.”
“Well, gee, Forty- maybe because Boss is flying and I’ve got to spoof transmissions because, as you pointed out, you’re working back here and probably no one’d appreciate me setting a gremlin loose unsupervised.”
The green commando just stared at the other in what Omega would assume was a glare were she not hitting his armor with a fist. “Have fun,” her escort said with a dismissive wave and a tease that was more sneer before ducking out of the room.
Once the door had shut again, the commando deftly scooped the link between Omega's cuffs upward, holding her arms above her head and forcing her to step away from him. She cried out, not out of pain but from surprise. “If you want him to survive, stop distracting me.”
One of the machines’ steady beeps began to falter and Omega clutched her hands to her chest, staring at Tech’s battered form. “W-What happened to him? What’s wrong?”
The commando hooked something into Tech’s arm and within a minute the beeping steadied again. “The Empire stabilized him enough for life support. I have to figure out how to do the same with what we have.” He paused and looked down at Omega. “You were Nala Se’s assistant, weren’t you?”
“Yes? I helped her in the genetics lab.”
“You should know how to read the machines.”
“Some.” Tech had promised to expand her medical knowledge but there’d always been something that seemed more important- or more exciting -and neither made the time for it. Omega swore she wouldn’t make that mistake again.
He took a moment to undo Omega's binds and then immediately dropped to a knee, just barely able to contort himself under the cot and unscrewed a panel in the wall of machinery, pulling out wires and hooking them into another machine. “Keep an eye on the readouts, let me know if there’re any changes. If his oxygen levels start dropping there’s a bag mask in the cabinet by his head.”
“Got it.” Omega didn’t know what he was doing, all her focus was on Tech and all the screens around him. But whenever the commando touched Tech- be it to insert a needle, attach a sensor, or, once, having to cut into him to remove a blood clot -Omega was right there to watch what he was doing with sharp eyes, asking him to explained each step. He complied eventually, begrudgingly, realizing she wouldn’t be intimidated by his stony silence or sharp dismissals.
In all honesty Omega wouldn’t have been able to repeat nearly anything he told her. It was so difficult to look at Tech. Dark, still healing bruises mottled his skin and what wasn’t wrapped up in bandages was covered in healed over lacerations or surgical scars. What made Omega queasy, however, was the fact there had been numerous bones that hadn’t been properly set, made all the more obvious by how thin he’d gotten. One side of his head had noticeably buckled in and Omega nearly broke down into tears at the sight.
But she swallowed the feeling back and steeled herself. She wasn’t going to leave either of her brothers vulnerable to this strange commando. She’d protect them no matter what.
Then the shuttle rocked from the familiar impact of turboblaster. The lights flickered off, leaving only the emergency lights and the ship suddenly lurched to one side, then the other. She stumbled, half sprawling over Crosshair to keep from being thrown down. The monitors connected to Tech all cut out and he let out a soft gasp. The commando pushed away from the wall he’d fallen against, checking Tech’s vitals with a handheld scanner and cursed. He lunged toward a cabinet and pulled out what Omega recognized as an AED and then the mask he’d mentioned earlier. He hit the comm on his vambrace and began chest compressions on Tech. “Get over here,” his voice was tight and clipped, calling to Omega, “prep the AED. Three-Eight-”
“/I know/,” a sharp voice cut him off, “/five minutes./”
“He’s gone into cardiac arrest, we need power to the med bay!”
“/And we’re all dead without full power to the engines. Find an alternative./”
The comm shut off and Omega could hear the green commando hissing through his teeth. She was surprised at how steady her hands were, ripping open the packages for the pads and placing them where the machine indicated. The machine beeped and said, “Analyzing. Do not touch patient.” Then, after a pause, “Administering shock.”
There was a short, sharp buzz and the machine said, “No heartbeat detected. Begin chest compressions.”
“Get the bag on him,” the commando said, bracing the heels of his hands on Tech’s chest. Tech’s lips were beginning to turn blue and he was horribly still and pale. Omega’s hands started shaking as she sealed the mask around his mouth and nose, switching the device on. “Breath.” The bag beeped at the order and gave two short squeezes. Over and over the cycle went, the commando pressing down on Tech’s heart, the bag pushing air into him on command and the AED occasionally chiming in for another shock.
It felt like Omega could do nothing but stand there, trying to bite back the tears and anger at her own helplessness. The ship did another sharp turn and suddenly lurched into the most stomach-wrenching jump to hyperspace she’d ever felt. It just as suddenly dropped back into realspace and then hyperspace again, cycling in and out in a series of jolts that had her clenching her teeth to keep from vomiting. A hand grabbed Omega by the shoulder, pushing her roughly into a chair and snapping the harness shut. The commando was barely able to keep his feet, holding tightly to the railing of Tech’s bed. He barked into his comm again, “Three-Eight, the hyperdrive on this crate isn’t made for this kind of stress!”
“/Busy trying to keep us all alive. If you don’t have anything constructive to say keep the comm clear./” There was a startled laugh on the other end right before the line cut.
He let out an explosive curse and clambered onto Tech’s, bracing his thighs against the rails in order to keep up the chest compressions. What felt like hours later the AED announced Tech’s heart had started beating again and the commando slumped- carefully, not putting any actual weight on Tech. He removed the mask and turned Tech onto his side. The shuttle gave one last rumble and finally, smoothly jumped to lightspeed for longer than a handful of seconds. Omega waited until the commando deemed it safe enough for him to get off the cot before she unlocked herself from the seat.
A voice came over the comm, “/We’ve lost our pursuers, we should be clear for now. Four-Oh, report./”
“Still unresponsive but alive. I’ve done all I can do. We need to get him to a medical facility and looked at by actual doctors.”
“/Understood. We’ll see what we can do./” Then, in a softer, warmer voice, “/I knew you could handle it. Good work, Fixer./”
The commando sighed and sounded tired but relieved. “Thanks, Boss.”
“/I’ll have Scorch relieve you in three hours, but if you need to rest before then, let me know./”
“Yessir.” When Omega approached Tech on slow, silent feet, a hand barred her way. “Don’t. He’s still in a critical state.” She didn’t know how long she stood there, grasping her own hand because she couldn’t hold Tech’s, until a scanner and a datapad were held in her line of sight. “Six-Two was able to copy some of Hemlock’s notes and formulas. We don’t know what he did on the other one so I need you to run some tests and see if we need to administer any sort of counter agents.” Omega didn’t know if it was her emotional state or if his voice really did go soft with understanding as he said, “I’ll watch over him.”
She teared up, voice tight as she said, “Thank you.” Because even if she didn’t know what these commandos were up to, he’d worked so hard to keep Tech alive. The work with Crosshair, she eventually came to realize, was busy work. The medbay wasn’t equipped to do an in depth blood analysis but the scans indicated that the drugs he’d been given was passing through his system and there wasn’t much they could do but keep an eye on his vitals and him hydrated. But it gave Omega something to focus on and it allowed her to stay close to Tech as the commando monitored him. After some time he rolled Tech onto his back again and began treating the wounds the imperial doctors hadn’t deemed worth treating. The commando even let Omega help by seeing if any of Tech’s injuries showed signs of infections and redressed any bandages. They worked together quietly until someone announced they were approaching an unaligned medical station.
As far as first meetings went it was hardly a cheerful one and neither Omega nor Fixer gave it much thought afterward given both had more important things to focus on at the time than each other. The memory likely would’ve faded to a mere acknowledgment of an encounter had their two groups not continually crossed paths. As it was the only thing Omega could really say about her first impression of Fixer was that he was brusquely kind. Fixer had just been glad she’d kept out of the way of his work though he’d admit a mild disappointment at the fact that, while Omega had palmed a scalpel behind his back, she’d never taken the chance to stab him with it.
Fandom: Star Wars: Republic Commando/Bad Batch
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3049
Characters: Omega, Scorch, Fixer, Boss
Summary: Omega and Fixer's first meeting is a bold escape from Mt. Tantiss
Omega probably should have realized something strange was happening as usually when she was taken anywhere, be it to Nala Se, Hemlock or escorted to a place for necessary activities like exercise or washing, there’d always been no less than three commandos with her. There was only the one before her now but, given he’d been the one that had taken her from Hunter and the others and had directed the commandos that had taken Crosshair from the cell for the last time, she felt a little justified in being more concerned with where he’d be taking her instead of why he was alone.
He reached for the controls and a small section of the rayshield deactivated and she dutifully held her hands through it to be shackled. Omega had been through this enough times to know resisting just meant she’d be stunned and shackled while unconscious. Once she was deemed secure the rest of the shield flickered off and the commando gave her a soft but firm nudge towards the doors.
The path they took was familiar at first. Then, where they normally turned left towards the labs, the commando put a hand to her shoulder and guided her straight and into the lift at the end of the hall. Omega was immediately alert and tense.
“Don’t bring attention to yourself,” the commando said. “Act natural and no one will stop us.”
Stop us? She thought. Stop us from what?
About halfway down the next corridor stood a trooper clearly standing guard. They stepped away from the wall and held out a hand. “Sir, I’ll need authorization before I let you through.”
“IC-1262, prisoner transfer by order of Dr. Hemlock.”
“I wasn’t given any notice of this order.”
“How is your level of security clearance my problem?” Omega could barely hear the discussion over the blood rushing in her ears. What was going on? Where was he taking her?
“Any transfers of special prisoners need to be filed prior to the transfer.”
Omega felt the commando shift behind her and she could just imagine the way he broadened out, seeming to grow in front of the trooper’s eyes. It was something Wrecker often did to intimidate and Echo when he decided a situation needed ending. The trooper took a half step backward.
“Right,” the commando drawled. “I’ll get Hemlock right on that. Because he suddenly reports to you, Trooper.”
The trooper visibly hesitated. “It’s… standard procedure, sir.”
“And I’m sure the Chief Scientist would love to drop what he’s doing and hear all about SOP while he re-authorizes someone he’s already given authorization to move prisoners.”
The trooper’s helmet moved as if they were desperately looking around for someone else to guide them. Eventually they shrank into their armor and stepped aside with a meek, “Yessir, sorry sir.”
They keyed open the door and the two stepped through. Once the door closed behind them the commando held a commlink up and said lowly, “Through the checkpoint, starting timer now. We’ll have six minutes- eight at best -if they actually follow SOP and check on transfer orders.” Whatever the reply was Omega didn’t hear it but the commando answered, “Copy that. On our way.” His hand fell on her shoulder again, silently guiding her down the halls and turns until Omega saw the signs for their destination: the hangars.
She dug in her heels. No- she didn’t know where they’d be going or why but she couldn’t leave Crosshair here. She had to find out what happened to him, she wasn’t going to leave him behind again.
The hand on her should tightened and forced her forward. “Just a reminder,” the commando said in a low tone, “not being stunned is a privilege. No one would look twice if I lugged your unconscious body around. So keep walking.”
For a moment she was gripped with the urge to fight. But he was right, Omega had gotten a bit of a reputation early on about needing to be subdued whenever she was taken out of her cell and she wouldn’t be able to get any information or formulate an escape if she was knocked out.
I’ll be back, she swore to Crosshair in her mind, even as the promise felt both empty and heavy in her heart.
They walked through the open hangar doors into the hangar itself and Omega was surprised that commando was right. Asides from an occasional glance, no one looked twice at them, everyone carrying on with their duties and either assuming the commando was doing the same or was too intimidated to question him.
“In the back right,” he said just low enough for Omega to hear. “Bay 13.”
In the aforementioned bay sat a shuttle in the colors of a medical transport. It was small, not made for long deep space flights, its wings folded up and ramp lowered.
Omega hesitated again. She really was being taken away from wherever this place was. There was another push, a little more insistent, to her back. “Pick up the pace,” the commando said in a low voice. “The casual act won’t do us much good if someone is smart enough to ask questions.”
She could cause a scene. Right here. Draw attention to them. Even a commando would have a hard time crossing that distance while carrying her- conscious or not -dodging anyone trying to stop him and get the shuttle moving before someone was able to shutter the doors. But would staying here really be the smart thing to do? She didn’t know how long she’d been captured but it had to have been at least a month by now and neither she nor Crosshair, in his lucid moments, had been able to figure out an escape. She hadn’t gotten any information on where he’d been taken or if he was even still alive. Omega may not know where they’d be going but it at least would be an opportunity for her to escape or get a message out.
Lowering her head and hunching her shoulders to look as much like a defeated prisoner as she could, Omega stretched out her stride. With each step her heart pounded harder and she became more aware of everyone around them, wanting to look around to see if anyone had become suspicious yet. Before she was able to work herself into an anxious state the ramp was under her feet and she scurried in, adrenaline making her tremble as the commando hit the ramp’s controls.
He lifted his head up to call out, “On board and ramp secure. We’re good to go, Three-Eight.”
From the cockpit above came a female voice with a slight Coruscanti accent. “This is shuttle PMF-2270-3 requesting clearance for takeoff.”
“/Shuttle PMF-2270-3, you are cleared for take off through Bay E-1./”
“Commencing takeoff procedure.”
Her escort took a few steps forward and turned to call up to their pilot, “Ordo know you created a vocal mask using his wife’s voice samples?”
“When have I cared what Ordo thinks?” A decidedly masculine clone voice replied. Omega was too short to see anything but the pilot’s chair from her vantage point. “Secure the passenger and get up here. We haven’t gotten out yet.”
“Yessir.”
The shuttle rumbled under their feet, tilting slightly as it moved for the bay doors. The commando herded her to the enclosed space in the back. It opened at their approach revealing a bare bones med bay though Omega noted that some of the machines were clearly installed recently, leaving very little space asides from a couple jump seats along the wall and another commando in the space between two medical cots. Omega had difficulty processing the fact that Crosshair was strapped into one while the other that the commando was bent over held-
“Tech!” She charged forward, ramming into the commando’s side with as much force as her much smaller body could muster. “Get away from him!”
Without having room to maneuver either her or himself, the commando took her momentum with just a slight rocking. “Why,” he said in a tight, icy voice, not even looking at her, “is she here? I’m trying to work.”
“Well, gee, Forty- maybe because Boss is flying and I’ve got to spoof transmissions because, as you pointed out, you’re working back here and probably no one’d appreciate me setting a gremlin loose unsupervised.”
The green commando just stared at the other in what Omega would assume was a glare were she not hitting his armor with a fist. “Have fun,” her escort said with a dismissive wave and a tease that was more sneer before ducking out of the room.
Once the door had shut again, the commando deftly scooped the link between Omega's cuffs upward, holding her arms above her head and forcing her to step away from him. She cried out, not out of pain but from surprise. “If you want him to survive, stop distracting me.”
One of the machines’ steady beeps began to falter and Omega clutched her hands to her chest, staring at Tech’s battered form. “W-What happened to him? What’s wrong?”
The commando hooked something into Tech’s arm and within a minute the beeping steadied again. “The Empire stabilized him enough for life support. I have to figure out how to do the same with what we have.” He paused and looked down at Omega. “You were Nala Se’s assistant, weren’t you?”
“Yes? I helped her in the genetics lab.”
“You should know how to read the machines.”
“Some.” Tech had promised to expand her medical knowledge but there’d always been something that seemed more important- or more exciting -and neither made the time for it. Omega swore she wouldn’t make that mistake again.
He took a moment to undo Omega's binds and then immediately dropped to a knee, just barely able to contort himself under the cot and unscrewed a panel in the wall of machinery, pulling out wires and hooking them into another machine. “Keep an eye on the readouts, let me know if there’re any changes. If his oxygen levels start dropping there’s a bag mask in the cabinet by his head.”
“Got it.” Omega didn’t know what he was doing, all her focus was on Tech and all the screens around him. But whenever the commando touched Tech- be it to insert a needle, attach a sensor, or, once, having to cut into him to remove a blood clot -Omega was right there to watch what he was doing with sharp eyes, asking him to explained each step. He complied eventually, begrudgingly, realizing she wouldn’t be intimidated by his stony silence or sharp dismissals.
In all honesty Omega wouldn’t have been able to repeat nearly anything he told her. It was so difficult to look at Tech. Dark, still healing bruises mottled his skin and what wasn’t wrapped up in bandages was covered in healed over lacerations or surgical scars. What made Omega queasy, however, was the fact there had been numerous bones that hadn’t been properly set, made all the more obvious by how thin he’d gotten. One side of his head had noticeably buckled in and Omega nearly broke down into tears at the sight.
But she swallowed the feeling back and steeled herself. She wasn’t going to leave either of her brothers vulnerable to this strange commando. She’d protect them no matter what.
Then the shuttle rocked from the familiar impact of turboblaster. The lights flickered off, leaving only the emergency lights and the ship suddenly lurched to one side, then the other. She stumbled, half sprawling over Crosshair to keep from being thrown down. The monitors connected to Tech all cut out and he let out a soft gasp. The commando pushed away from the wall he’d fallen against, checking Tech’s vitals with a handheld scanner and cursed. He lunged toward a cabinet and pulled out what Omega recognized as an AED and then the mask he’d mentioned earlier. He hit the comm on his vambrace and began chest compressions on Tech. “Get over here,” his voice was tight and clipped, calling to Omega, “prep the AED. Three-Eight-”
“/I know/,” a sharp voice cut him off, “/five minutes./”
“He’s gone into cardiac arrest, we need power to the med bay!”
“/And we’re all dead without full power to the engines. Find an alternative./”
The comm shut off and Omega could hear the green commando hissing through his teeth. She was surprised at how steady her hands were, ripping open the packages for the pads and placing them where the machine indicated. The machine beeped and said, “Analyzing. Do not touch patient.” Then, after a pause, “Administering shock.”
There was a short, sharp buzz and the machine said, “No heartbeat detected. Begin chest compressions.”
“Get the bag on him,” the commando said, bracing the heels of his hands on Tech’s chest. Tech’s lips were beginning to turn blue and he was horribly still and pale. Omega’s hands started shaking as she sealed the mask around his mouth and nose, switching the device on. “Breath.” The bag beeped at the order and gave two short squeezes. Over and over the cycle went, the commando pressing down on Tech’s heart, the bag pushing air into him on command and the AED occasionally chiming in for another shock.
It felt like Omega could do nothing but stand there, trying to bite back the tears and anger at her own helplessness. The ship did another sharp turn and suddenly lurched into the most stomach-wrenching jump to hyperspace she’d ever felt. It just as suddenly dropped back into realspace and then hyperspace again, cycling in and out in a series of jolts that had her clenching her teeth to keep from vomiting. A hand grabbed Omega by the shoulder, pushing her roughly into a chair and snapping the harness shut. The commando was barely able to keep his feet, holding tightly to the railing of Tech’s bed. He barked into his comm again, “Three-Eight, the hyperdrive on this crate isn’t made for this kind of stress!”
“/Busy trying to keep us all alive. If you don’t have anything constructive to say keep the comm clear./” There was a startled laugh on the other end right before the line cut.
He let out an explosive curse and clambered onto Tech’s, bracing his thighs against the rails in order to keep up the chest compressions. What felt like hours later the AED announced Tech’s heart had started beating again and the commando slumped- carefully, not putting any actual weight on Tech. He removed the mask and turned Tech onto his side. The shuttle gave one last rumble and finally, smoothly jumped to lightspeed for longer than a handful of seconds. Omega waited until the commando deemed it safe enough for him to get off the cot before she unlocked herself from the seat.
A voice came over the comm, “/We’ve lost our pursuers, we should be clear for now. Four-Oh, report./”
“Still unresponsive but alive. I’ve done all I can do. We need to get him to a medical facility and looked at by actual doctors.”
“/Understood. We’ll see what we can do./” Then, in a softer, warmer voice, “/I knew you could handle it. Good work, Fixer./”
The commando sighed and sounded tired but relieved. “Thanks, Boss.”
“/I’ll have Scorch relieve you in three hours, but if you need to rest before then, let me know./”
“Yessir.” When Omega approached Tech on slow, silent feet, a hand barred her way. “Don’t. He’s still in a critical state.” She didn’t know how long she stood there, grasping her own hand because she couldn’t hold Tech’s, until a scanner and a datapad were held in her line of sight. “Six-Two was able to copy some of Hemlock’s notes and formulas. We don’t know what he did on the other one so I need you to run some tests and see if we need to administer any sort of counter agents.” Omega didn’t know if it was her emotional state or if his voice really did go soft with understanding as he said, “I’ll watch over him.”
She teared up, voice tight as she said, “Thank you.” Because even if she didn’t know what these commandos were up to, he’d worked so hard to keep Tech alive. The work with Crosshair, she eventually came to realize, was busy work. The medbay wasn’t equipped to do an in depth blood analysis but the scans indicated that the drugs he’d been given was passing through his system and there wasn’t much they could do but keep an eye on his vitals and him hydrated. But it gave Omega something to focus on and it allowed her to stay close to Tech as the commando monitored him. After some time he rolled Tech onto his back again and began treating the wounds the imperial doctors hadn’t deemed worth treating. The commando even let Omega help by seeing if any of Tech’s injuries showed signs of infections and redressed any bandages. They worked together quietly until someone announced they were approaching an unaligned medical station.
As far as first meetings went it was hardly a cheerful one and neither Omega nor Fixer gave it much thought afterward given both had more important things to focus on at the time than each other. The memory likely would’ve faded to a mere acknowledgment of an encounter had their two groups not continually crossed paths. As it was the only thing Omega could really say about her first impression of Fixer was that he was brusquely kind. Fixer had just been glad she’d kept out of the way of his work though he’d admit a mild disappointment at the fact that, while Omega had palmed a scalpel behind his back, she’d never taken the chance to stab him with it.
