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@summer-of-bad-batch | Week #1: “You’re here. You’re safe.” | Bonus Prompt #2: “I am seldom wrong.”

Read here on Ao3

Rated: G | Words: 618

“Tech?” 

The tremulous voice at his back admittedly startles him. More in the fact that the girl must have intentionally walked past their three emotionally intelligent (albeit sleeping) brothers in order to come to the cockpit and find him, specifically. 

She is unfamiliar with him yet, unaware of just how inept he is with the subject of nightmares. Not his own, of course. He has experienced plenty in his years. But with his brothers’. He has never been the first choice for comfort. Not even the second or third. They would rely first on their own methods of self-soothing than come to him. That is a fair and logical assessment. He understands in the same vein that it grieves him. 

After all, he did not choose to be as he is. And in all his vast and impressive knowledge, he cannot seem to figure out any other way to be. He can rewire innumerable systems effortlessly, and yet his own mind is untouchable. It is frustrating, but it is a fact. He has come to reluctantly accept it. 

Omega does not know that. Not yet. 

But she will. She is incredibly observant. It is only a matter of time. 

Tech turns to face the doorway and acknowledges her fully. “Omega.” 

The little clone girl stands there, stiffly, Wrecker’s worn stuffed animal strangled in her narrow arms. They watch each other for several long moments. Tech is not sure what she is waiting for. Or what he is waiting for, for that matter. 

He clears his throat. “Is there something I can assist you with?” 

Omega blinks at him, and she suddenly looks all too much like a young Crosshair. Pale hair and knowing eyes, searching his face for something Tech could never hope to grasp. But Crosshair is gone, and Omega is here. 

Tech moves his gaze to the ship floor between his boots.

“I dreamed I was still on Kamino,” Omega tells him. 

Tech nods. “I see. That must have been disorienting.” 

Omega makes a quiet noise of assent. Then, “Can I stay with you?” 

Tech forces himself to look up at her soft, open expression. “If that would be helpful, of course.” 

Omega smiles at him, and Crosshair vanishes behind the gentle expression. “Thanks, Tech.” She moves to the copilot’s seat and climbs up; one arm still protectively wrapped around Lula’s stuffed neck. Omega shifts and adjusts her position to make herself comfortable. 

Silence reclaims the cockpit, but Tech cannot find it in himself to go back to his previous task. So, he waits attentively, should Omega want to say or ask anything else. 

Tech is surprised when his own voice speaks up, unprompted. “You are here, and you are safe, Omega. I find that it is helpful to reiterate known facts when one’s subconscious has suggested falsehood.” 

Omega smiles at him, and if he isn’t mistaken, there is something like relief evident in the sudden slack of her shoulders. “It helps more when you say it,” she tells him. 

Surprise seems to be Tech’s other companion in the cockpit tonight. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Omega says, but to his disappointment, she does not elaborate further. 

“Any of the others would have said as much,” Tech assures her. 

“But it’s different hearing it from the smartest person in the whole galaxy,” Omega returns indulgently. 

A warmth of pride floods his chest cavity, even if her assessment is an astronomical exaggeration. “Well,” he tells her, chuckling. “I am seldom wrong.” 

Omega’s smile deepens. “That’s why I knew you’d help me most.” 

Most. 

More than Hunter or Wrecker or Echo. 

Gratified by this unexpected turn of events, Tech smiles back. Perhaps Omega is more aware than he initially anticipated. 

Fascinating. 

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[summer-of-bad-batch]

Slight change of schedule…Bonus Prompts will be released on Tuesdays for optimal prompt sandwich opportunities…so they’ll be released just as soon as I can format the post after the poll ends 😇

Bonus Prompt #2: “I am seldom wrong.”

Tags: #summerofbadbatch2025 #bonusprompt2 #I am seldom wrong

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[umbramoons]

Set in Ink

Tech x GN!Reader

@summer-of-bad-batch Week 2 | Main Prompt: Tattoos | Alt. Prompt: "Don't even think about it." | Bonus Prompt: "I am seldom wrong." @summer-of-bad-batch-reblogs

Warnings: Teasing/Flirting (I'm not the best at writing banter, but that's what I was feeling for this one). Kisses, but none on the lips this time. Also, Cid is mentioned, so if you don't want to see her around, be warned!

Word Count: 1008 Read on Ao3

As the cool air of Cid’s parlor washed over your face, you took a deep breath. It was rare that you felt relieved coming here, but after a week in the scorching sun of Tatooine, an air-conditioned building felt amazing. Even if the rest of it was less than impressive.

There was one good thing about the interior, though. And he was sitting at the bar, hunched over a datapad.

You couldn’t contain your smile as you approached Tech, crossing your arms as you observed him for a moment. When it became clear he hadn’t noticed you yet, you finally spoke up. “Anything new?”

He nearly fell off his stool as he was knocked from his focused state. He blinked at you with wide eyes as he finally composed himself. “Cyare! I predicted your arrival to be 2.4 hours ago.”

“Aw, you were waiting for me?”

Tech quickly looked away before he could start to blush, adjusting his goggles to realign his focus. “I was awaiting an update. We do typically allocate our funds, after all.”

“Fine. Let me go see about those funds, then.” You pressed a light kiss to his cheek before darting into Cid’s office, smothering your laughter as you heard his indignant sound of surprise.

He shook his head lightly as he watched you go, but there was a spark of affection there, too. Mostly curiosity, though. Why you were wearing long sleeves when returning from a planet like Tatooine was beyond him.

A few minutes later, you came back from the office with a crate in your hands. You held your head proudly as you dropped onto the stool beside Tech. “One thousand credits,” you said smugly, opening the crate to display your payment. “How’s that for my first solo mission?”

Tech hummed quietly as he observed the credits. “Considering that your mission consisted of a week-long operation gathering intel on a gang-infested planet… I cannot classify your pay as satisfactory.”

Your smile dimmed a bit, but you weren’t too hurt by his disapproval. It wasn’t you he was displeased with at the end of the day. “Don’t forget, this is Cid we’re talking about.”

“An important factor in the equation, yes. My point still stands.” Tech carefully shut the crate as a patron drifted by, not wanting them to get any ideas about the small stash of credits. “Just because the pay is characteristic does not make it any more reasonable. We should be paid better for undertaking such dangerous work.”

You shrugged as you began to reach for the case, your left arm stretching across the counter to grab it. “Don’t have to convince me.”

“Of course, I don’t. I am seldom wrong, remember?”

“Oh, a rare Tech joke!” You laughed lightly. “This day just keeps getting better.” 

You were about to say something else when Tech’s hand shot out to grab your wrist. Too shocked to speak, you just blinked in stunned silence as he carefully rotated your arm, giving him a better view of the thin, transparent film peeking out from beneath your sleeve. Your cheeks warmed at the curious look he gave you, but you didn’t stop him as he slowly pushed your sleeve up to reveal the skin of your forearm, allowing him to see the freshly inked lines on your inner wrist.

Tech’s head tilted slowly as he took in the shapes now forever emblazoned on your skin. A small skull. A lightning bolt behind it. A pixelated look to the whole thing. His eyes lifted to yours, amusement practically glowing in his eyes. “Well,” he said quietly. “That looks familiar.”

The smug tone in his voice made something inside you want to curl up with embarrassment, but it also thrilled a more prominent side of you. “Okay, listen. The person I was tailing stopped at a tattoo parlor for a few hours every day. He was getting a ridiculous sleeve done, and he was starting to get suspicious about why I was always there if I wasn’t doing anything.”

“So you decided to get a tattoo yourself,” Tech mused teasingly as his fingers traced along the thin lines on your wrist. “And you decided to tattoo a symbol that is exclusively on my armor?”

“I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it.” You huffed defensively, though really, you felt more shy than upset. “Do you have a problem with it?”

Tech shook his head. “As long as the parlor was fairly clean and reputable, I have no problem with it.” He met your eyes again as he lifted your hand up to his face and pressed his lips against the tattoo, kissing the inside of your wrist softly. “In fact, I think I love you more for it.”

You couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped you at that, and for a moment, his shyness mirrored your own, as if he was worried he had gone too far that time. But then you started to smile, and he mirrored that expression, too. 

The sound of laughter roused the two of you from the moment, and you turned to see the rest of the squad entering the parlor. You glanced at Tech and gave his hand a faint squeeze, silently promising to continue the conversation later. The excitement in his eyes and the way he squeezed your hand in return showed that he understood. You separated as the others got closer, but your hands remained close together on the countertop.

Omega was the first to notice the mark on your wrist, and she gasped with delight. “No way! You got a tattoo?”

A wave of relief went over you when no one else raised their eyebrows at your choice of markings. “No better place to get a tattoo than on Tatooine, right?” You heard Tech sigh heavily at your terrible, terrible joke. 

Her eyes sparkled with an idea that clearly excited her. “Can I get one, too?”

Hunter answered the girl before anyone else had the chance to. “Don’t even think about it.”

[summer-of-bad-batch-reblogs]

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Thick Skulls

@summer-of-bad-batch Week 2 | Main Prompt: "Tattoos" and Week 2 | Bonus Prompt: "I am seldom wrong."

Cross-posted on Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66680824

Rated: G | no romantic relationships | Words: 671

“Are you absolutely certain that this is what you want?” Tech studied the sketches as they walked, absentmindedly keeping pace with his brothers. “From what I have read, it’s wiser to start with something smaller and located somewhere less visible—and less painful.”

���Visibility is the point!” Hunter said. “Why go through the trouble to get something that’s always covered by our armor?”

“I see. All the same, your particular designs and placements of choice are…concerning.” He held up Hunter’s drawing in the hazy light of the polluted city they were traversing. “Inking almost fifty percent of your face in one session is incredibly ill-advised. Large-scale shading is lengthy and painful, especially on sensitive body parts like the face. Not to mention that its size would make removal difficult. This,” he tapped the sketch of a face covered entirely on one side with a black skull design, “is extreme.”

“We are extreme, Tech.”

(He couldn’t exactly refute that, not without being hypocritical. Regs had been giving him a wide berth since his final piloting evaluation the month before.)

Hunter held up his helmet, showing off the new paint that already mirrored his desired tattoo design. The squad had just settled on their color scheme, and he was more enthusiastic about it than anyone. “Just think how wizard a skull would look with this paint job.”

“Supposed ‘wizard’-ness aside, I feel the need to remind you that your enhanced senses will make the experience of getting tattooed especially painful. You’d do well to minimize that with something smaller.”

“Skull,” was his brother’s one-word rebuttal.

Tech couldn’t stifle a frustrated sigh. Of all the people he could have been tasked with dissuading, it had to be the two most willful clones ever created.

He held up the other sketch and addressed Crosshair. “While you wisely opted for a small, simple design, you picked perhaps the worst possible location. I have read that the skin around the eyes is one of the most sensitive areas for a tattoo. What’s more, any number of complications are possible: a blowout of ink, infection due to unsanitary conditions, or even puncturing your eye. We are unfamiliar with this tattooist, and if an accident were to happen, you would run the risk of a permanent eye injury.”

“A very sunny thought,” Crosshair said, looking almost bored.

Tech frowned at the sniper. “Given your specialty, I would expect you to take that into heavy consideration.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve weighed and measured it and all that. We’re doing this.”

“Understood.” Dissuading any of his batchmates was a lost cause once they’d set their course. They were almost to the tattoo parlor; practically past the point of no return for either Hunter or Crosshair. “I assume you’ve at least hydrated in preparation like I advised?”

Crosshair scoffed. “What do I look like to you?”

“Frankly? The human incarnation of a dried kelp strip.”

“And you’re the human incarnation of a wet blanket.”

Tech wanted to argue, but just then, they reached the tattoo parlor. If he hadn’t already been protesting to a brick wall, he was now.

The establishment seemed sanitary enough. Tech interrogated the owner while his brothers consulted one of the artists about their sketches, and was satisfied to learn that the inks were prepared with distilled water and the needles were properly cleaned after every use. At least Hunter and Crosshair weren’t likely to get infections from their tattoos.

“Have you heard enough, or do you need to run a background check on everyone in this shop?” Crosshair demanded after Tech had peppered the artists with questions about the possibility of an allergic reaction to the inks, which was thankfully unlikely. “We have to be back at base in a few hours.”

He supposed it wouldn’t do to rush the artists. For the second time in less than an hour, Tech gave a long suffering sigh and relented. “For the record, you will both regret this.”

Neither of them listened, of course.

Hunter blacked out halfway through.

[summer-of-bad-batch]

Bonus Prompt Vote Week 2!!

Last week, we unlocked the Bonus Prompt: “It’s too early for this.”

So what’s it gonna be this week???

I’ve loved seeing all the unique takes on the prompts…from sweet to humor to hurt/comfort to angst! You all are incredibly talented individuals, and I can’t get over it 🥹🧡

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[summer-of-bad-batch-reblogs]

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Week 2 of @summer-of-bad-batch 2025 : "I am seldom wrong."

I've been noticing that I only mentioned him twice for this summer prompt challenge, last year and my first drawing this year. This time, I wanted to try something different. I drew Tech on neon colors. Hope you guys like this one.

Here are some my previous SOBB drawings of Tech mentioned.

SOBB 2024 (Cadets)

SOBB 2025 (Late Night Beach Walks)

[summer-of-bad-batch-reblogs]

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@summer-of-bad-batch

Week 2: bonus prompt: "I am seldom wrong"

[summer-of-bad-batch-reblogs]

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One of us 'Summer of Bad Batch - week 2)

@summer-of-bad-batch

Main prompt: Tattoos

Alternative prompt: "Don't even think about it."

Bonus prompt: "I am seldom wrong."

Characters: Echo, Hunter, Crosshair, Tech and Wrecker

Read here on AO3

It was now two weeks since Echo had joined the Bad Batch, and only three weeks since he had been rescued from Skako Minor.

When, after the battle of Anaxes, Hunter had offered him to join Clone Force 99, Echo had been hesitant. His first thought had been to refuse. After all, he had to choose between joining the Bad Batch, a group of 4 genetically enhanced commandos he knew absolutely nothing about, or staying with the 501st, his lifelong battalion. After all, the 501st had been his family since Rishi, and he never wanted to leave.

But then he thought about it. Who did he have left in the 501st? Not many, since of those he knew well, only Rex, Kix and Jesse remained. Many troopers considered him an enemy, a traitor, as it was his strategies that had been used by the Separatists to block the advance of the Republic army during the siege of Anaxes, resulting in many casualties on the Republic side, even though Echo had absolutely nothing to do with it. He didn’t know how comfortable he'd be living and working with men who thought he was a traitor and didn’t trust him at all.

But above all, it wasn’t what was waiting for him in the 501st that had changed his mind, it was what wasn’t waiting for him. What wasn’t waiting for him anymore. Who wasn’t waiting for him. Because Fives was dead. Echo didn’t know all the details, but he knew Fives had died, even before Rex told him. If his twin had still been alive, he would have been part of the rescue team, or at least at his bedside in less than 10 hours. But that hadn’t been the case, and Rex had confirmed his fears. And even though Echo knew that this in itself was not that surprising – Fives was a clone soldier of the Republic, he was bound to die at some point, just as Echo was – he didn’t feel ready to join the 501st with this new body and all this hatred directed at him without his twin by his side.

Before giving Hunter his final decision, Echo had discussed it with Rex, and although it was clear that the Captain would have preferred to keep him by his side, Rex had accepted without difficulty, even encouraging Echo to leave with the Bad Batch.

So, Echo had joined this motley crew. At least there, no one would look at him strangely because he didn’t look like the others since Hunter, Wrecker, Tech and Crosshair, despite being also clones, were radically different from each other, and looked nothing like regs.

And if Echo felt accepted physically, it was something else in the dynamics and interactions. Wrecker seemed afraid to touch him, Tech only interacted with him to talk about his prostheses and implants, Hunter sometimes seemed to forget his presence and Echo was pretty sure Crosshair hated him.

Echo would be lying if he said he hadn’t expected it. After all, he was joining a squad that had worked exclusively together for 10 years, he couldn’t expect to be integrated into their dynamic overnight and somewhere along the line, he knew he’d never really be part of the team, not like them anyway, and he’d accepted that. But that’s still stings a little.

Since joining them, the Bad batch hadn’t carried out any major missions, just a few simple transports, so Echo wasn’t sure how he’d fit in with the group in a dangerous situation or battle.

But all that changed on the next mission. Hunter had been contacted by Marshal Commander Cody, requesting that Clone Force 99 retrieve a Jedi relic that had fallen into the hands of the Separatists. The relic was located on an isolated and previously abandoned planet. A small garrison of droids had been deployed by the Separatists to protect the relic, but they numbered no more than fifty. The Bad Batch’s mission was simple: retrieve the relic and blow up the Separatist base, destroying all the droids on site. Nothing too complicated.

“Sounds too simple.” Crosshair grumbled as Hunter debriefed the mission. “Where did this intel come from? Because if it’s from the Senate, I’m not going.”

“What’s wrong with the Senate intel?” Echo asked, surprised.

“It’s all shit.” The sniper sneered.

Echo opened his mouth to contradict him and automatically defend the Senate, but Tech didn’t give him the chance. “Let’s just say that the information provided by the Senate has proved to be incorrect and/or incomplete many times in the past, putting us at risk at multiple occasions. Nothing we can’t handle but annoying all the same.” Tech corrected, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Bottom line; it’s all shit.” Crosshair repeated.

Seeing that Tech was opening his mouth again and not wanting to deal with one of their arguments now, Hunter intervened. “The intel wasn’t from the Senate.” He cut in quickly.

“Who was it from then?” Wrecker asked.

“Jedi Shadow. He didn’t specify their identity, but Cody assured me that this person is worthy of General Kenobi’s trust.”

“Vos.” Echo, Tech, Wrecker and Crosshair said in unison.

“Probably.” Hunter agreed with a small smirk.

“Wait, you know General Vos?” Wrecker asked, turning to Echo.

“I was in the 501st under the command of General Skywalker, who is General Kenobi’s kih’vod, who is General Vos’ best friend, of course I know him.”

“Ah, I see. Convenient.”

“Anyway, all that to say that the intel is reliable. The planet is pretty rocky, and the base is deep in the mountains. Crosshair, you perch and cover our backs; Wrecker, you and I will create a diversion; Echo and Tech, you sneak in to retrieve the relic and any information that seems important. We’ll be in orbit within ten hours. Any questions?”

“No, Sergent.” Echo replied, while the other three just shook their heads and went about their business.

Echo lingered a little longer when he caught Hunter’s gaze asking him to stay. The cyborg complied, nervous. Had he already made a mistake? Was Hunter going to tell him to leave his team and send him back to Rex?

Echo then waited for Hunter to speak, which the tracker soon did. “This will be your first field assignment since Anaxes. How do you feel about it?”

“Given everyone’s strengths and weaknesses, the strategy is solid. The area isn’t that hilly, so there shouldn’t be too much to worry about approaching, while providing a sufficient number of hiding places for Crosshair. There aren’t enough droids to endanger you and Wrecker. And with Tech, we’ll be able to retrieve and secure the relic while recovering as much data as possible. I’d have preferred someone to stay aboard the Marauder so we could be exfiltrated in a hurry if necessary, but given our number, I understand that’s not feasible. Apart from this detail, everything is optimal, and the risk of the mission failing is close to zero.” Echo reported.

Here, he was in his element, reviewing strategies to make the most of the strengths and weaknesses of the various elements at his disposal.

Hunter blinked once and twice before resuming. “Well, I’m delighted to see in action the outstanding strategist Rex told us you were, but that wasn’t the point of my question.” He countered.

Echo felt a wave of pride run through him when he heard Rex’s praise for his strategic skills, but quickly refocused, confused as to what Hunter was talking about. “What was it then?” He asked.

“I wanted to know how you felt about this mission.”

“I’m operational and will be able to carry out my part of the mission.” Echo said immediately, thinking that Hunter was questioning his ability to act on the front line with his new… limitations.

“Still glad to hear it, but still not what I wanted to know.” Hunter objected once again.

Here, Echo really didn’t know what Hunter potentially wanted to talk to him about. He must have shown it, because Hunter took pity on him. “I just wanted to know how you feel about going on this mission, both physically and mentally. I know that Tech has made improvements to your prostheses since Anaxes?”

“Oh yes. My legs are as strong as they can be, my scomp is fully operational and my comm is connected directly to my internal computer so communications are more efficient. I haven’t yet tested these improvements in battle, but this mission will be the opportunity.”

“Don’t your legs hurt when you wear them for too long?” Hunter insisted. He’d seen how the cyborg sometimes grimaced at the end of the day and would hate to inflict any more pain than necessary.

“Only a little, and that’s after many hours of intensive use. It won’t affect my results on the mission, and I’ll be able to carry out my part.”

Hunter sighed inwardly. Echo was definitely as stubborn as Rex had told him, and it would take some time before he opened up and became a little less stoic. But Hunter could understand that. Echo had just come out of a more than traumatic experience and hadn’t really had time to process it all. Not to mention that he was with a group of men he knew absolutely nothing about. It might take some time for Echo to open up, but Hunter promised himself he’d get there in the end. He, too, could be stubborn when he wanted to be.

“Okay. What about morale?” He asked, leaving aside the physical side for the moment, promising himself to come back to it later.

“Morale?” Echo repeated, confused.

“This will be your first mission since your capture. And no, Anaxes doesn’t count. I know a lot has changed since you were last at the front, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Echo stood there for a moment, unsure of how to react. It wasn’t the first time someone had asked him this question, but the last time it had been Rex and Kix, two of his closest vode. Now it was Hunter, his new Sergent, who was asking him this question, and Echo didn’t know how to answer honestly. But he pulled himself together quickly enough, giving an answer that would hopefully appease his CO. “I’ll carry out my part of the mission.” He repeated.

Hunter sighed; it was going to take him a long time to break through Echo’s shell. “All right, I trust you. But don’t hesitate to tell me if anything changes, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel pressured to do something you don’t feel like doing just because I asked you to.”

Echo simply nodded at this but added nothing. Hunter also let it go and the two separated, Echo going to check his things for the mission and Hunter reviewing their shuttle’s coordinates.

The Bad Batch then arrived safely on the right planet and Tech landed the Havoc Marauder without any problems, managing to remain undetected.

“Is everyone clear on their role?” Hunter asked one last time, standing in the cargo bay with all the others, ready to get off the ship and go smashing droids.

Crosshair, Tech, Echo and Wrecker nodded seriously.

“Great. Let’s go then.”

The mission went off without a hitch, and in less than 4 hours, Clone Force 99 left this planet with the relic in its pocket and a Separatists base still smoking, all its inhabitants decimated.

As soon as he got back aboard the ship, Echo immediately went to the on-board computer and, after making sure Tech didn’t need him for piloting, connected to the computer with his scomp, sorting out the data he’d retrieve from the Separatist base.

In theory, he didn’t necessarily need to connect to a computer and could do all this directly in his head, with his internal computer, but not only was it still very strange for him to think that he literally had a computer in his head, but it was also more energy-consuming and back-breaking to do it directly on his internal computer. At least, when he connected to the on-board computer, he had one more interface and it was easier to sort through the data.

As was often the case, Separatists’ files were barely organized, and if they were, the file names gave absolutely no indication of what was inside. This was a relatively effective strategy for preventing anyone from finding important information easily and quickly, since you had to open every file to find out what it was about. A normal human being would spend hours and hours looking at everything and extracting useful information. But fortunately for him, Echo wasn’t a normal human being, and he’d never go so far as to thank the Techno Union for torturing him the way they had, but he had to admit that in situations like these, the internal computer came in handy.

Thanks to this, Echo could open a document, scan its contents, rename it and file it in new folders in just a few seconds. He still expected between one and two hours of work before he had all these documents sorted, but that was nothing compared to the 6 hours or so Tech would need to do the same thing.

Echo had been seated and connected to the on-board computer for some 20 minutes when he sensed movement all around him. Intrigued, he opened eyes he didn’t remember closing and realized that all 4 batchers were around him, Tech looking at him with an almost calculating air, Wrecker with sympathy, Hunter with concern and Crosshair with astonishment.

“What’s up? Do any of you need the computer? I can also connect to a datapad if need to, but it might take longer, and I’d need an adapter. Or I can also-”

“Echo.” Hunter interrupted. “None of us need the computer. But…”

“Have you been working since we got there?” Wrecker asked, eyebrows furrowed. “You haven’t even taken the time to change or clean your equipment.”

Echo didn’t answer immediately but glanced down at his outfit. It was true that the pants covering part of his legs, and his boots were more than a little dusty. And he might have to spend a little longer cleaning his legs to make sure that no specks of dust jammed the mechanisms that operated them. And he’d probably also have to deal with the blaster burn he’d received on his side when a droid had tried to shoot him. But none of that was as important as sorting the data.

“These documents need sorting. If I can finish sorting them out before we get to the Negociator, the work of those who receive them will be greatly advanced. I know that Commander Cody and General Kenobi both works too hard, so if I can bring their work forward a little, I’ll do it without hesitation.”

“And I understand that very well.” Hunter assured. “But not to your detriment. Whether it’s Cody or Kenobi, neither of them would want to know that you’ve been curled up on the floor of the ship in a position that can’t be comfortable for nearly half an hour without even taking the time to change.”

Echo wasn’t convinced, and Wrecker could see it right away.

“So, I can take a holo of you in this position and send it to General Kenobi? That way, when we see him, he’ll look at you with his big, sad eyes and say something like: ‘Oh Echo, you didn’t have to do all this, dear. I’m sorry you had to work so hard, I should have said you didn’t need to sort all the data, I would have been happy to do it on my own. Did you at least take the time to drink and eat something? I’m sure you didn’t. Echo, this is unreasonable. Not to mention-’”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Echo interrupted, blushing slightly as he imagined General Kenobi saying all this. “I’ll stop for now. I’m going to change and clean up, and then I’ll get back into a more comfortable position.”

“I don’t think so.” Crosshair said, advancing towards the cyborg. “Unplug yourself.” He ordered.

“And what are you gonna do if I don’t?” Echo challenged.

“I’ll unplug you myself.” The sniper retorted.

“Crosshair, you cannot just unplug Echo like that. It could short-circuit his neural system, and the resulting damage could be dramatic, not only for the data he’s actually processing, but especially for Echo.” Tech corrected.

“I know, Tech.” Crosshair rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to say that the Reg better disconnect sooner rather than later.”

“Geez, calm down, I’m disconnecting.” Echo said, checking one last time that he’d save everything before unplugging himself.

Almost instantly, Echo was grabbed by Wrecker, far more delicately than he’d ever seen the bruiser do. But that didn’t mean it was totally pleasant either. “Wrecker! Put me down right now!” He exclaimed.

“No can do, Echo. If you don’t want to stop alone, I’ll help you.” Wrecker replied, heading for the bunk room.

Echo sighed and relented. He honestly didn’t feel like fighting Wrecker right now. He hadn’t realized it when he was plugged in, but using his internal computer like this required more energy than he thought, even using the on-board computer as an interface, and fatigue was starting to settle in.

Once in the room with all their bunks, Wrecker placed Echo on his. “There. Take off your armor and join us in the main room. Stay in your blacks, it’ll be easier.”

Echo opened his mouth to ask for what exactly that would be easier but when he looked up, Wrecker was already gone. Deciding not to look any further, Echo shrugged and began to remove his armor. He’d been wearing it for almost 15 hours and had to admit it felt good to take it off.

The ample movement he made as he removed his chest plate drew a small hiss of pain from him, and on closer inspection of his flank, he saw that what he’d thought was simply a slight blaster burn was actually bigger than he’d thought. But it wasn’t bleeding or infected, so Echo didn’t dwell on it. In a few days there’d be nothing left, no need to panic over nothing. Or worse, no need to use the Bad Batch’s resources to heal a wound he’d been too slow to avoid.

After removing his armor, Echo put on clean blacks, struggling to fit his mechanical legs, and moved into the next room, where the others were gathered. Crosshair was sitting on one of the benches next to the table, fiddling with something Echo couldn’t make out; Hunter was leaning against the counter, sipping what must have been an even more caffeinated cup of tea than General Kenobi was drinking; Wrecker was lying on the floor, throwing a small ball into the air and catching it in a loop; and Tech was sitting cross-legged on the table, bent over his datapad.

“Ah, you’re back, Echo.” Wrecker smiled broadly, straightening up.

“A little longer and I wouldn’t have waited for you anymore.” Crosshair smirked, earning himself a slap on the back of the head from Hunter.

“Well, here I am. What did you need me for?” The cyborg inquired.

“Yeah, sit.” Crosshair pointed to the chair beside him, grabbing a funny looking little machine in his hand.

Although perplexed, Echo complied and sat down on the designated chair, the four batchers looking at him. And just as he was about to ask what they expected of him, since they seemed to be expecting something from him, Crosshair spoke again.

“So, where do you want it?” The sniper asked.

Echo was becoming more and more intrigued. “Where do I want what?”

“Your tattoo.” Crosshair replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“My… tattoo?” Echo repeated, not understanding more. “What tattoo are you talking about?”

“In Clone Force 99, we all have a tattoo of our unit’s symbol, which consists of a cranium and the number ninety-nine in aurebesh beneath it.” Tech explained without looking up from his datapad. “Hunter and Crosshair have also chosen to adorn their bodies with these hard-to-ignore facial tattoos, but all four of us have our symbol tattooed somewhere. Hunter’s is on the inside of his right forearm, Wrecker’s on his lower back, Crosshair’s on his right thigh and mine is on my left arm. Crosshair is our resident tattooist, so he was asking you, albeit not very nicely, where you’d like him to tattoo our symbol, since you’ve officially joined our team today, having completed a combat mission with us, even though you were already part of the team before that.”

Tech had said all that without pausing once to take a breath, and Echo hadn’t been with them long enough for it not to surprise him anymore. But something Tech had said bothered him a little.

“Are you sure about that? I mean, I’m not really-”

“Don’t even think about it.” Hunter cut him off. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence or I’ll have Wrecker hug you so tight you won’t be able to breathe.”

“Don’t have to ask me, Sarge, I’d have done it anyway.” Wrecker added.

“Thanks Wrecker. Echo, you are as much part of this team as any of us, and today’s mission proved it. You belong here. You’re one of us and you can’t escape us. I know we haven’t always been very welcoming to you, but I assure you that if you’ve felt left out, it wasn’t on purpose. It’s just that the 4 of us have been working exclusively together for over 10 years, so we’ve got our dynamics well established, but you’re part of the group, Echo, never doubt it.”

Echo didn’t answer, not knowing how to. He knew he was part of the team, at least from a theoretical point of view, but this was becoming a little more real. Especially since, although Hunter had done most of the talking, Wrecker, Tech and even Crosshair seemed to agree with him entirely.

Echo nodded. “Thank you.” He said simply.

“You’re welcome. Now, where do you want your skull?” Crosshair asked.

Echo thought about it for a while before the answer came to him obviously. He would put this mark where his first mark of belonging to a group had been. With his left hand, he indicated his chest, on the right. “Here.” He declared, looking Crosshair in the face. “Can you make it the size of a fist?”

“You bet I can. I can do any design of any size.” The sniper bragged.

“All the designs?” Echo repeated, thinking of something.

“Of course. Why’s that?”

“Maybe I’ll ask for you services for another tattoo later on.”

“He hasn’t even started his first one and he already wants his second.” Crosshair mumbled with a smirk, shaking his head. “Are you going to take off your top or do you expect me to tattoo through your blacks?”

It was Echo’s turn to shake his head, then removed his top.

“Echo, what is this?” Hunter asked, eyebrows furrowed, as the cyborg hadn’t even had time to put his shirt down yet.

“Hm? What are you talking about?” Echo inquired, following the tracker’s gaze, falling first on his thoracic implants. “Oh, those are my thoracic implants. They allow me to-”

“I know what your thoracic implants are.” Hunter cut in. “I talk about that wound.”

Ah, he must have meant his little burn. “It’s nothing, don’t worry.” Echo said as Crosshair tilted his head to see what Hunter was talking about.

“Nothing my ass. Tech, grab the medkit.”

Tech didn’t answer, but stood up immediately, disappearing to the other side of the room, without letting go of his datapad or taking his eyes off it.

“It’s all right, guys, there’s no need to exaggerate. There’ll be nothing left in two days.” Echo insisted.

“Don’t care. Minor or not, it’s still a blaster burn.” Crosshair reached for the medkit Tech was handling him, grabbing some disinfectant and a few compresses.

Echo thought about protesting, but a glance at the other batchers told him it was absolutely useless, so he let it go with a small sigh.

When Crosshair had approached Echo’s wound with a compress full of disinfectant, he had expected the cyborg to tense up at least a little, as they all did in such situations, but was surprised when the cyborg didn’t move a muscle.

After a few seconds of surprise, Crosshair realized that compared to all the pain Echo must have known, this one was so minor he didn’t even flinch. And this discovery made him want to find all the bastards who had made him suffer and annihilate them. But hey, you had to look on the bright side.

“At least you won’t be squirming all over the place when I tattoo you.” The sniper said, applying a bacta bandage to Echo’s side.

Echo chuckled. “It gonna take more than that to get me squirming.”

“Just wait and see.”

In the end, Echo was right, because when Crosshair had started tattooing him, the cyborg hadn’t moved a muscle.

Crosshair tossed a sidelong glance at Wrecker, who was once again lying on the floor. “Well, that’s a change from some people.”

“Hey, that tickles!” The taller one defended himself.

“Whatever you said.” The sniper smirked, returning his full attention to the skull he was outlining.

“Echo, I’m impressed by your abilities.” Tech declared out of the blue, without even looking up from his datapad.

“Uh, thanks? Which ones?” Echo asked, completely at a loss because even though no conversation was underway with Tech, he was pretty sure the engineer wasn’t talking about his ability to stay still under a tattoo needle.

“In the 23 minutes and 27 seconds you’ve been connected to the on-board computer, you’ve been able to open, scan, rename, sort and save 397 documents, i.e. 33.53% of the documents we collected from the Separatist base we visited this morning.”

“Oh, well, I’m still not totally used to using my internal computer for this sort of thing, so I needed to use the on-board computer to do all this but if I practice I think I’ll be able to do all this work without going through the on-board computer interface. I also should be able to improve my information processing speed.”

There was a brief silence, during which the four batchers looked at him blankly.

“Did I say something stupid?” The cyborg asked, puzzled.

“You’re the stupid.” Crosshair muttered.

“Hey!” Echo protested.

“Don’t move if you don’t want your skull to look like a rancor’s!”

“I think what Crosshair meant was that you misinterpreted what I said.” Tech interjected as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “My remark wasn’t intended to encourage you to go faster or to sort the data without assistance of the on-board computer, not at all. On the contrary, I was amazed at the extraordinary efficiency with which you performed this task. Your sorting system is identical in every respect to that used by the GAR, which will save a considerable amount of time for those who want to consult the data. And considering that it took you an average of 3.54 seconds to open a document, identify its contents, rename it and file it, I’d say that your information processing speed is largely satisfactory.”

Echo remained silent for a few dozen seconds longer before Wrecker spoke again. “It’s more than satisfactory!” He exclaimed. “You’re hella fast, Echo!”

“Well, I guess Tech is right in this case.” Echo admitted.

“Well, I am seldom wrong.” Tech confirmed, refocusing on his datapad, continuing to sort the data.

“I can sort through the rest of the data if you want, Tech.” The cyborg offered.

“You’re getting a tattoo, so stop talking and shut up.” Crosshair countered.

“You know, I can’t stop breathing so my chest won’t stop moving even if I stop talking. And I’ll have you know that with my diaphragmatic pacemaker, I literally can’t stop breathing.”

“What the hell is this? I’m sure it’s not even a word.” The sniper grumbled.

“Actually, it’s a term that does exist, even if it’s a misnomer of sorts. What Echo is talking about is called implanted phrenic stimulation. It’s a device that enables contraction of the diaphragm, and thus autonomous breathing, in individuals who have lost the spontaneous use of this muscle. This stimulation automatically activates his diaphragm, allowing his breathing to function properly, so unless he short-circuits his battery or consciously deactivates the device, Echo is effectively unable to stop his breathing cycle.” Tech corrected, still without looking up from his datapad, sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning against Wrecker.

“Oh, come on, you don’t have to bring your science to every conversation, Tech.” Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“Excuse me, but you are the one who expressed skepticism about the existence of such a word. I had to correct you.”

“And you don’t have to use words that nobody knows every time you open your mouth.”

“Anyone who had ever opened a dictionary will be familiar with the terms I use. I deduce that this is not the case for you, dear little brother.”

“I don’t give a damn about the ‘little brother’, I’m barely 30 seconds younger than you.”

“Which makes you my little brother.” Tech concludes.

Echo exchanged an amused smile with Wrecker but added nothing. Yes, he really felt at home with the Bad Batch and didn’t regret his decision to join them.

[summer-of-bad-batch-reblogs]

Tag List: @leapingbadger @snitchcrimsonwrites @boredzum-671 @arlothia @dizzy-9906 @jordosprout @eternalqueenofnaboo @dangraccoon @callme-naomi

"The Colors of Friendship"

Banner by @callsign-denmark

For the @summer-of-bad-batch Bonus Prompt: “I am seldom wrong."

Read here on Ao3!

Summary:

“Ugh.” Lyana Hazard drew out the word with a frustrated sigh. “This is so hard!” Tech had been trying his best to appear sufficiently sympathetic to the young girl who was sitting beside him on the pier, but her dramatic expulsion of air finally pulled his lips up into a smirk. He took a moment to compose himself, turning his gaze out to skim over the rippling horizon and swishing his bare toes in the cool water. "Precisely what task are you finding difficult?” "Choosing the colors for this bracelet!" She gave a soft huff and squinted even harder at the three different balls of threads. "I've changed my mind like, six times."

[summer-of-bad-batch]

We currently have a lead (which-I peeked 👀- is very Tech-coded🤭); however, we also have a close second!!

I’m excited to see which one we get to unlock this week!!

Bonus Prompt Vote Week 2!!

Last week, we unlocked the Bonus Prompt: “It’s too early for this.”

So what’s it gonna be this week???

I’ve loved seeing all the unique takes on the prompts…from sweet to humor to hurt/comfort to angst! You all are incredibly talented individuals, and I can’t get over it 🥹🧡

@lifblogs @pandorademos @snitchcrimsonwrites @boredzum-671 @arlothia @locitapurplepink @dizzy-9906 @jordosprout @eternalqueenofnaboo @mae-lou-ron @dangraccoon @maybe-some-words @imperialsprig @99aceace

[skellymom]

❤️

Banner by @the-little-moment

Most

@summer-of-bad-batch | Week #1: “You’re here. You’re safe.” | Bonus Prompt #2: “I am seldom wrong.”

Read here on Ao3

Rated: G | Words: 618

“Tech?” 

The tremulous voice at his back admittedly startles him. More in the fact that the girl must have intentionally walked past their three emotionally intelligent (albeit sleeping) brothers in order to come to the cockpit and find him, specifically. 

She is unfamiliar with him yet, unaware of just how inept he is with the subject of nightmares. Not his own, of course. He has experienced plenty in his years. But with his brothers’. He has never been the first choice for comfort. Not even the second or third. They would rely first on their own methods of self-soothing than come to him. That is a fair and logical assessment. He understands in the same vein that it grieves him. 

After all, he did not choose to be as he is. And in all his vast and impressive knowledge, he cannot seem to figure out any other way to be. He can rewire innumerable systems effortlessly, and yet his own mind is untouchable. It is frustrating, but it is a fact. He has come to reluctantly accept it. 

Omega does not know that. Not yet. 

But she will. She is incredibly observant. It is only a matter of time. 

Tech turns to face the doorway and acknowledges her fully. “Omega.” 

The little clone girl stands there, stiffly, Wrecker’s worn stuffed animal strangled in her narrow arms. They watch each other for several long moments. Tech is not sure what she is waiting for. Or what he is waiting for, for that matter. 

He clears his throat. “Is there something I can assist you with?” 

Omega blinks at him, and she suddenly looks all too much like a young Crosshair. Pale hair and knowing eyes, searching his face for something Tech could never hope to grasp. But Crosshair is gone, and Omega is here. 

Tech moves his gaze to the ship floor between his boots.

“I dreamed I was still on Kamino,” Omega tells him. 

Tech nods. “I see. That must have been disorienting.” 

Omega makes a quiet noise of assent. Then, “Can I stay with you?” 

Tech forces himself to look up at her soft, open expression. “If that would be helpful, of course.” 

Omega smiles at him, and Crosshair vanishes behind the gentle expression. “Thanks, Tech.” She moves to the copilot’s seat and climbs up; one arm still protectively wrapped around Lula’s stuffed neck. Omega shifts and adjusts her position to make herself comfortable. 

Silence reclaims the cockpit, but Tech cannot find it in himself to go back to his previous task. So, he waits attentively, should Omega want to say or ask anything else. 

Tech is surprised when his own voice speaks up, unprompted. “You are here, and you are safe, Omega. I find that it is helpful to reiterate known facts when one’s subconscious has suggested falsehood.” 

Omega smiles at him, and if he isn’t mistaken, there is something like relief evident in the sudden slack of her shoulders. “It helps more when you say it,” she tells him. 

Surprise seems to be Tech’s other companion in the cockpit tonight. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Omega says, but to his disappointment, she does not elaborate further. 

“Any of the others would have said as much,” Tech assures her. 

“But it’s different hearing it from the smartest person in the whole galaxy,” Omega returns indulgently. 

A warmth of pride floods his chest cavity, even if her assessment is an astronomical exaggeration. “Well,” he tells her, chuckling. “I am seldom wrong.” 

Omega’s smile deepens. “That’s why I knew you’d help me most.” 

Most. 

More than Hunter or Wrecker or Echo. 

Gratified by this unexpected turn of events, Tech smiles back. Perhaps Omega is more aware than he initially anticipated. 

Fascinating. 

Tag List: @arctrooper69 @groguandthebadbatch @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @dreamsight73 @royallykt @blackseafoam @skellymom

[kybercrystals94]

Even if you aren’t participating in the event, you can still vote! Keeps things interesting 😂🫶

Bonus Prompt Vote Week 2!!

Last week, we unlocked the Bonus Prompt: “It’s too early for this.”

So what’s it gonna be this week???

I’ve loved seeing all the unique takes on the prompts…from sweet to humor to hurt/comfort to angst! You all are incredibly talented individuals, and I can’t get over it 🥹🧡

@lifblogs @pandorademos @snitchcrimsonwrites @boredzum-671 @arlothia @locitapurplepink @dizzy-9906 @jordosprout @eternalqueenofnaboo @mae-lou-ron @dangraccoon @maybe-some-words @imperialsprig @99aceace

[summer-of-bad-batch-reblogs]

Tag List: @leapingbadger @snitchcrimsonwrites @boredzum-671 @arlothia @dizzy-9906 @jordosprout @eternalqueenofnaboo @dangraccoon @callme-naomi @archivewriter1ont @royallykt

Set in Ink

Tech x GN!Reader

@summer-of-bad-batch Week 2 | Main Prompt: Tattoos | Alt. Prompt: "Don't even think about it." | Bonus Prompt: "I am seldom wrong." @summer-of-bad-batch-reblogs

Warnings: Teasing/Flirting (I'm not the best at writing banter, but that's what I was feeling for this one). Kisses, but none on the lips this time. Also, Cid is mentioned, so if you don't want to see her around, be warned!

Word Count: 1008 Read on Ao3

As the cool air of Cid’s parlor washed over your face, you took a deep breath. It was rare that you felt relieved coming here, but after a week in the scorching sun of Tatooine, an air-conditioned building felt amazing. Even if the rest of it was less than impressive.

There was one good thing about the interior, though. And he was sitting at the bar, hunched over a datapad.

You couldn’t contain your smile as you approached Tech, crossing your arms as you observed him for a moment. When it became clear he hadn’t noticed you yet, you finally spoke up. “Anything new?”

He nearly fell off his stool as he was knocked from his focused state. He blinked at you with wide eyes as he finally composed himself. “Cyare! I predicted your arrival to be 2.4 hours ago.”

“Aw, you were waiting for me?”

Tech quickly looked away before he could start to blush, adjusting his goggles to realign his focus. “I was awaiting an update. We do typically allocate our funds, after all.”

“Fine. Let me go see about those funds, then.” You pressed a light kiss to his cheek before darting into Cid’s office, smothering your laughter as you heard his indignant sound of surprise.

He shook his head lightly as he watched you go, but there was a spark of affection there, too. Mostly curiosity, though. Why you were wearing long sleeves when returning from a planet like Tatooine was beyond him.

A few minutes later, you came back from the office with a crate in your hands. You held your head proudly as you dropped onto the stool beside Tech. “One thousand credits,” you said smugly, opening the crate to display your payment. “How’s that for my first solo mission?”

Tech hummed quietly as he observed the credits. “Considering that your mission consisted of a week-long operation gathering intel on a gang-infested planet… I cannot classify your pay as satisfactory.”

Your smile dimmed a bit, but you weren’t too hurt by his disapproval. It wasn’t you he was displeased with at the end of the day. “Don’t forget, this is Cid we’re talking about.”

“An important factor in the equation, yes. My point still stands.” Tech carefully shut the crate as a patron drifted by, not wanting them to get any ideas about the small stash of credits. “Just because the pay is characteristic does not make it any more reasonable. We should be paid better for undertaking such dangerous work.”

You shrugged as you began to reach for the case, your left arm stretching across the counter to grab it. “Don’t have to convince me.”

“Of course, I don’t. I am seldom wrong, remember?”

“Oh, a rare Tech joke!” You laughed lightly. “This day just keeps getting better.” 

You were about to say something else when Tech’s hand shot out to grab your wrist. Too shocked to speak, you just blinked in stunned silence as he carefully rotated your arm, giving him a better view of the thin, transparent film peeking out from beneath your sleeve. Your cheeks warmed at the curious look he gave you, but you didn’t stop him as he slowly pushed your sleeve up to reveal the skin of your forearm, allowing him to see the freshly inked lines on your inner wrist.

Tech’s head tilted slowly as he took in the shapes now forever emblazoned on your skin. A small skull. A lightning bolt behind it. A pixelated look to the whole thing. His eyes lifted to yours, amusement practically glowing in his eyes. “Well,” he said quietly. “That looks familiar.”

The smug tone in his voice made something inside you want to curl up with embarrassment, but it also thrilled a more prominent side of you. “Okay, listen. The person I was tailing stopped at a tattoo parlor for a few hours every day. He was getting a ridiculous sleeve done, and he was starting to get suspicious about why I was always there if I wasn’t doing anything.”

“So you decided to get a tattoo yourself,” Tech mused teasingly as his fingers traced along the thin lines on your wrist. “And you decided to tattoo a symbol that is exclusively on my armor?”

“I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it.” You huffed defensively, though really, you felt more shy than upset. “Do you have a problem with it?”

Tech shook his head. “As long as the parlor was fairly clean and reputable, I have no problem with it.” He met your eyes again as he lifted your hand up to his face and pressed his lips against the tattoo, kissing the inside of your wrist softly. “In fact, I think I love you more for it.”

You couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped you at that, and for a moment, his shyness mirrored your own, as if he was worried he had gone too far that time. But then you started to smile, and he mirrored that expression, too. 

The sound of laughter roused the two of you from the moment, and you turned to see the rest of the squad entering the parlor. You glanced at Tech and gave his hand a faint squeeze, silently promising to continue the conversation later. The excitement in his eyes and the way he squeezed your hand in return showed that he understood. You separated as the others got closer, but your hands remained close together on the countertop.

Omega was the first to notice the mark on your wrist, and she gasped with delight. “No way! You got a tattoo?”

A wave of relief went over you when no one else raised their eyebrows at your choice of markings. “No better place to get a tattoo than on Tatooine, right?” You heard Tech sigh heavily at your terrible, terrible joke. 

Her eyes sparkled with an idea that clearly excited her. “Can I get one, too?”

Hunter answered the girl before anyone else had the chance to. “Don’t even think about it.”

[summer-of-bad-batch-reblogs]

Tag List: @leapingbadger @snitchcrimsonwrites @boredzum-671 @arlothia @dizzy-9906 @jordosprout @eternalqueenofnaboo @dangraccoon

Banner by @the-little-moment

Most

@summer-of-bad-batch | Week #1: “You’re here. You’re safe.” | Bonus Prompt #2: “I am seldom wrong.”

Read here on Ao3

Rated: G | Words: 618

“Tech?” 

The tremulous voice at his back admittedly startles him. More in the fact that the girl must have intentionally walked past their three emotionally intelligent (albeit sleeping) brothers in order to come to the cockpit and find him, specifically. 

She is unfamiliar with him yet, unaware of just how inept he is with the subject of nightmares. Not his own, of course. He has experienced plenty in his years. But with his brothers’. He has never been the first choice for comfort. Not even the second or third. They would rely first on their own methods of self-soothing than come to him. That is a fair and logical assessment. He understands in the same vein that it grieves him. 

After all, he did not choose to be as he is. And in all his vast and impressive knowledge, he cannot seem to figure out any other way to be. He can rewire innumerable systems effortlessly, and yet his own mind is untouchable. It is frustrating, but it is a fact. He has come to reluctantly accept it. 

Omega does not know that. Not yet. 

But she will. She is incredibly observant. It is only a matter of time. 

Tech turns to face the doorway and acknowledges her fully. “Omega.” 

The little clone girl stands there, stiffly, Wrecker’s worn stuffed animal strangled in her narrow arms. They watch each other for several long moments. Tech is not sure what she is waiting for. Or what he is waiting for, for that matter. 

He clears his throat. “Is there something I can assist you with?” 

Omega blinks at him, and she suddenly looks all too much like a young Crosshair. Pale hair and knowing eyes, searching his face for something Tech could never hope to grasp. But Crosshair is gone, and Omega is here. 

Tech moves his gaze to the ship floor between his boots.

“I dreamed I was still on Kamino,” Omega tells him. 

Tech nods. “I see. That must have been disorienting.” 

Omega makes a quiet noise of assent. Then, “Can I stay with you?” 

Tech forces himself to look up at her soft, open expression. “If that would be helpful, of course.” 

Omega smiles at him, and Crosshair vanishes behind the gentle expression. “Thanks, Tech.” She moves to the copilot’s seat and climbs up; one arm still protectively wrapped around Lula’s stuffed neck. Omega shifts and adjusts her position to make herself comfortable. 

Silence reclaims the cockpit, but Tech cannot find it in himself to go back to his previous task. So, he waits attentively, should Omega want to say or ask anything else. 

Tech is surprised when his own voice speaks up, unprompted. “You are here, and you are safe, Omega. I find that it is helpful to reiterate known facts when one’s subconscious has suggested falsehood.” 

Omega smiles at him, and if he isn’t mistaken, there is something like relief evident in the sudden slack of her shoulders. “It helps more when you say it,” she tells him. 

Surprise seems to be Tech’s other companion in the cockpit tonight. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Omega says, but to his disappointment, she does not elaborate further. 

“Any of the others would have said as much,” Tech assures her. 

“But it’s different hearing it from the smartest person in the whole galaxy,” Omega returns indulgently. 

A warmth of pride floods his chest cavity, even if her assessment is an astronomical exaggeration. “Well,” he tells her, chuckling. “I am seldom wrong.” 

Omega’s smile deepens. “That’s why I knew you’d help me most.” 

Most. 

More than Hunter or Wrecker or Echo. 

Gratified by this unexpected turn of events, Tech smiles back. Perhaps Omega is more aware than he initially anticipated. 

Fascinating. 

Tag List: @arctrooper69 @groguandthebadbatch @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @dreamsight73 @royallykt @blackseafoam @skellymom