Jedi Fugitive (The Bad Batch)

12

Astera:

"And that's how you disassemble a thermal explosive!" Wrecker sat back on his heels, looking proud of his handiwork. The pulled apart bomb lay on the ground before him, the bits and pieces arranged with a precision I would never have expected of him. Omega watched him with a very serious look on her face, drinking in every word.

"There's tons of live ordnance buried in this shipyard," he warned her. "If you trip one, you need to know how to disable it."

"Seems simple enough," she said with a shrug. I snorted lightly, watching them from a short distance away. That's what I had thought with my first bomb test.

Wrecker shot me a knowing look, beginning to reassemble the explosive. "Well, if you're so sure, here. Disarm it."

He tossed her the small tool he had used, arming the bomb in the next second.

"Me?!" She exclaimed in alarm. "But I only watched you once!"

"Ten seconds till we're all goners!" I called over to her, touching my hand to my throat again at the painful strain. The imprint of Wrecker's fingers was still purple, but under the treatment of Tech - though still insisting he could do better if I would take off my helmet - it had healed considerably faster than it would on its own. At least my voice didn't sound so rough anymore.

Omega's panic was almost funny to watch. Wrecker was being facetious, treating the explosive like it was real, but it would serve a good lesson for Omega. The kid would need to learn how to work under pressure. It could be a case of life and death.

He shot me another knowing grin. It had been easier working with the Batch since they'd had their chips removed; now that I knew they weren't going to shoot me down if they ever discovered my identity, I could finally relax a little around them. Though it had only been a few days, the effects had been obvious; Wrecker, arguably the softest of them, had been eager to make up for nearly strangling me to death on the cruiser. Even Hunter's cold demeanour had thawed somewhat - though it was probably just gratitude for saving the kid. It had been the same when I'd first met them; though initially standoffish, Wrecker had been the first to warm up, especially when I had given him free reign over the explosives in the Separatist facility.

Omega dropped to her knees, mumbling to herself while the tool darted around the wires of the explosive.

"Then what?" she urged Wrecker, who only kept counting down. Her eyebrows furrowed together in worry, beginning to cut wires. "I don't know which wire to cut next!"

"Better get it right!" was all he said before he continued counting. "Three... two... one!"

Omega snipped a random wire out of panic. The wrong one. The explosive began to beep faster, yellow lights flickering on the main face.

"Obviously not that one." Wrecker feigned horror. "Too late! Run for it!"

He dashed off. Omega followed without a second thought, tripping over a rusted pipe in her haste to get behind cover. She crawled behind a sheet of metal, covering her head with her arms. I remained where I was, out of the blast zone.

The explosive burst into a cloud of smoke with a small bang. Wrecker erupted into loud laughter as he headed back to the site of the explosive. "Gotcha!"

Omega rolled her eyes, emerging from behind the sheet of metal. "Why didn't it explode?"

"Because it's a smoke bomb," I explained, unable to keep the edge of amusement out of my tone any longer. "You think we'd let you train with a live explosive?"

Omega only scoffed, an irritated look on her face.

"I'm not crazy," Wrecker guffawed. "You should have seen your face."