Jedi Fugitive (The Bad Batch)

23

Astera:

Omega jammed a tool into one of the many ports on Gonky's body, throwing sparks and causing the droid to seize up and shudder as the port spit out arcs of electricity. She jerked her hand back before it could zap her hand, Gonky still spasming and spewing unintelligible noises. "Uh oh."

"What's going on here?" Hunter stepped down from the gunner's mount, drawn by the suddenly malfunctioning droid noises. Omega glanced up towards him with a worried look, tool still clutched in her hand as Gonky's shaking ceased and the droid recovered himself.

"Droid's prime power source won't fully charge," I filled in for her, watching from my seat across from her. Whatever the other three had been working on in the cockpit didn't need me, and I wasn't sure if they particularly wanted me there anyway. Omega had delightfully agreed to my supervision, even if it was only to make sure she didn't shock herself fixing the battery droid.

"I'm fixing him," she supplied helpfully.

"You can't. He's a defective unit." Hunter's brief explanation was cut even shorter by Tech calling him from the cockpit; the sergeant clone went after him, leaving a dejected Gonky honking sadly in the back room. Omega patted the side of his body consolingly.

"Don't worry, we're defective too."

I got up and followed Hunter to the cockpit, curious to see what Tech needed him for. He stood just in front of the doorway, blocking my way in, but I could still hear the tail end of Tech's words:

"...recorded transmission, but I do not recognize this frequency."

"Patch it through," Hunter suggested, taking the only free seat. I inched forward, into the doorway and leaning against it as Tech thumbed a couple of buttons on the dashboard, connecting the transmission to the holoprojector.

Short green head tails and dirty brown clothing were the first things I registered when the hologram popped up, the young child delivering the message crouched and tensed with urgency. "Omega, it's Hera. You have to come back to Ryloth."

We had seen the girl less than a day ago. Why was she contacting us now?

"Isn't she the kid from the weapons drop?" Wrecker seemed to share my thoughts, throwing a large arm out towards Hera on the recorded message. Omega pushed past me suddenly, .... To get a better look at the bluish holo message.

"Hera?"

"The Empire's taken my parents, and they're after me now too." Hera's eyes darted nervously around on the message, as if afraid that the Empire would show up even as she recorded her desperate plea for help. "I'm sending coordinates. Please hurry. I need your help."

We all knew who had given Hera the means to contact us - only one person had spent an extended amount of time with her, and it was something Omega would have done either way. Five pairs of eyes turned on her disapprovingly as the hologram froze, but Hunter was the only one who spoke. "You gave her our comm channel?"

"For emergencies," Omega said defensively. "And that sounded pretty important. We have to go."

"Perhaps the situation is not as dire as described," Tech cut in, factual and logical as always. "Children often overreact."

I sucked in a quiet breath. As right as he was, it was the wrong thing to say, especially to a kid Omega's age. Old enough to see it as patronising, too young to see the truth in it.

"No, we don't!" Omega fired back indignantly. "You heard her. She needs us."

The last three words were said quieter, pleadingly, to Hunter rather than Tech. He put a consoling hand on her shoulder, something he tended to do often. Especially right before telling her a hard truth she needed to hear.