#Part three is an excuse for Crosshair and Tech to interact more

[levi-venn]

Tech and Crow

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (Final) Available also on AO3)

On Eriadu, statistically speaking, humanoids died more often from unnatural causes than old age.

Seventy percent perished from animal attacks.

Ten from disease.

Eighteen percent from venomous plants. 

One-point-ninety nine percent from the Empire.

The remaining zero-point-zero-one percent were given to those flinging themselves from a moving monorail car to save their siblings from death.

Eriadu is not an ideal place to die, Tech thought, midfall. But it’s preferable to dying on a fool’s mission for Sid.

For a few treasured seconds he seemed to be floating rather than falling, the cloud cover making it near impossible to orient himself in any direction, though his stomach was telling him his back would meet the ground first. It would be a painful, but hopefully quick death.

The trees, however, had other ideas, both on how Tech would land, and whether he would survive or not.

The first branch shattered against Tech’s pauldron sending him spinning. Another branch broke against his shin guard. There was a nest of twigs, cotton, and unfertilized eggs that slammed into his helmet essentially blinding him.

As he continued in this downward spiral he attempted to quantify how many branches were needed to slow his fall and increase his survival rate. The fact he was hitting branches once every half second told him the odds were in his favor. Evidently, the Eriadian redwood forest was an ideal place to free fall from a considerable height.

Good to know.

While he couldn't control the rate in which he was falling, nor the amount of branches he was shattering, he did manage to land on his back. And in doing so, he jettisoned the remaining breath from his lungs.

He lay there, very still, unfortunately awake, and gasping for air that wouldn't come. Darkness crept around the edge of his vision. He struggled to stay awake. Struggled to breathe. Panic was rising within him.

There is no need to panic, he tried to remind himself. This is just a reaction to present trauma. There is no immediate danger. Breathe...breathe...

Even as the breath returned to him, a new problem arose. He couldn't slow his breathing down, nor calm his heart rate, and the anxiety frayed his nerves as if he were still falling. 

He tried a different tactic: He recalculated the unnatural death toll on Eriadu:

Seventy percent perished from animal attack.

Ten from disease.

Eighteen percent from venomous plants. 

And now two percent from the Empire.

As a youngling, Tech's exceptional mind had mastered every intellectual acuity test presented to him. However, no amount of brilliance would help him when it came to combat training. All altered clones had a defect in one form or another. His came in the shape of bowed and twisted legs, not suitable for a soldier.

It was logical that the Kaminoans broke his legs to reset them. Logical and agonizing. Tech was bed-ridden for weeks. 

They gave him a datapad filled with as much reading material as he could absorb, but even then there was no distracting him from the pain nor the panicked episodes that came with it.

He didn’t want visitors. Didn’t want to appear weak to his brothers. Soldiers weren’t bed-ridden. Soldiers didn’t cry from fear of an uncertain future.

Crosshair ignored Tech’s request for isolation. He appeared every day, three times a day, always for meals. He claimed he was just there to steal Tech’s bread roll, but he only ever took a bite and stayed long after Tech ate the rest of the meal.

Crosshair wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but he would sit on the edge of Tech’s bed, cleaning his beloved DC-15A cadet blaster rifle, and casually ask Tech questions. 

“Why do Kaminoans have such long necks?”

“Who would win in a fight? A Jedi with a vibroblade or a Mandalorian with a lightsaber?”

“How many B1s would it take to equal the power of Jango Fett?”

Tech stared up at the Eriadian sky, mostly obscured by broken branches and his cracked and smudged lens. 

He’d give anything for one of Crosshair’s thinly veiled questions to distract him from the pain and panic.

And truly...he’d give anything to see Crosshair again, regardless.  

***

It took fourteen days and seventeen hours to find Mount Tantiss on the planet, Weyland. It would have taken half that time if Tech had his goggles, a working datapad, and (admittedly) his siblings. Fourteen days was plenty of time to heal his body from its fall, but even at peak condition the climb up the mountain was arduous. Tedious even. Slower as he had to make camp and find food and disarm Imperial sensors the whole way up.

Seventy-eight hours later, he found himself at the base of the Imperial science facility. 

He also found himself exhausted.

“Come on, Tech! You can do it!” Hunter had cheered all those years ago as young Tech clung to the middle rung of the monkey-lizard bars high over the training grounds. The platform might as well be located on another planet.

Tech’s legs had been reset the previous year. He was fully healed. There was no excuse for this fragility. Yet his muscles shook with effort, sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes.

“I’m gonna get him,” Wrecker said.

“No!” Hunter pulled his brother back. “He can do it!”

“No, he can’t! Look at him!” Wrecker whined, face full of worry. 

“C’mon, Tech! A little further!” Hunter looked worried too, even as he cheered his brother on. 

Even as Tech’s grip began to slip.

To this day, Tech didn't remember Crosshair's reaction to his failure that day. What was the point of recalling it, anyway?

Utterly meaningless, he always told himself when he'd try to recall. And he would attempt this often.

***

A carrion crow visited Tech the morning after he collapsed from fatigue a kilometer from the science facility. 

The corvid landed on his back, then proceeded to hop in little circle as if Tech was his own personal, albeit ineffective, trampoline.

Tech hadn’t noticed he had become an amusement ride for the crow until it cawed rather rudely and directly into his ear.

Jolting awake at the caustic alarm, Tech jumped to his feet, pulling his blaster and pointing it at...a few feathers that had been jostled from the startled bird. The crow landed on a nearly smooth boulder nearby, croaking as if flabbergasted by the audacity of Tech’s reaction, then flew off in a cackling rage.

The day was spent doing recon of the area. The sheer density of this side of the jungle kept troopers away, and by nightfall Tech had made a decent, albeit temporary, base.

That evening Tech dreamed.

“You remember ‘C’, don’t you?” Tech asked the small boy sitting beside him. It was a very real memory, but his subconscious twisted timelines, making him a fully grown adult sitting next to a small, gray-haired boy hunched over the datapad, stylus awkward in his little fingers.

“I remember,” Crosshair said, stubbornly, stylus making a vertical line.

“C is for curved,” Tech recited the pneumonic, smiling to himself as Crosshair quickly readjusted his stylus, making a shaky but clear C.

“Now an ‘R’.”

Crosshair hissed in frustration, stylus lifting and lowering onto the screen making little angry dots on the workbook page. “I don’t want to.”

“Shall we do it together?” Tech asked.

“No,” Crosshair insisted, even as he sat closer to Tech and leaned against him. Tech put his hand over his brother's to guide him. “Up, and around, and down to the ground.” Tech said.

“I can do ‘O’ by myself,” Crosshair said, pushing Tech’s hand off of his own, though he still leaned against Tech as he drew a mathematically perfect circle. 

The dream had taken liberties, but the scene was more or less how Tech remembered Crosshair writing his name for the first time. The dream neglected to recall Crosshair asking Tech not to tell their brothers that he struggled to write his own name.

But Tech was allowed to know. Only Tech. And Tech kept his word to this day.

“Let’s see how you did,” Tech said, in this more or less accurate dream.

He picked up the datapad and read in perfectly block letters.

[H E L P  M E]

Tech startled awake. 

He told himself it was just a dream. Memories and information and out of context stimuli colliding together into something nonsensical.

Utterly meaningless, he told himself, even as he wiped the tears from his cheeks.

It was still night. The moonlight punched its way through the canopy of trees, offering illumination that only helped to remind Tech just how alone he was on this mountain.

Actually, Tech corrected, the moon doesn’t illuminate anything. The light I’m seeing is a reflection of the sun. 

This factoid did little to alleviate the situation. 

But he felt better acknowledging it.

***

The crow returned the next morning holding something in its beak: a small pinecone, young and green. The pinecone had no nutritional value to the corvid, nor was it proper nesting material.

Crows have been known to offer gifts as a sign of gratitude for an agreeable exchange or action.

The gift was obviously not for Tech considering he had pulled a blaster on the corvid upon their first meeting.

Who are you giving your gifts to? Tech wondered. A bored trooper? A sensitive officer? A desperate prisoner?

“A desperate prisoner wouldn’t sacrifice food for trinkets,” he concluded to the crow.

The crow hopped around the boulder once, twice, then flew directly at Tech, who ducked just as the crow smacked a wing against his head mid-flight. Even with the pinecone in his beak, Tech swore he could hear a throaty cackle.

Tech continued his recon of the science facility as best he could without being discovered. Getting close to the building wasn’t an issue, it was getting near anything resembling an entrance that was the issue. He had one blaster against an unknown amount of guards, which meant all he could do was recon. And then he would fill his siblings in when they arrived.

It never occurred to him his brothers and sister wouldn’t eventually come to the same conclusion as he. They would find this planet. They would find Tech and receive his very useful intel, and then they would save Crosshair. The squad would finally be reunited.

It would all work out. It had to.

He couldn’t afford to think of the alternative. Worrying about it was useless.

Utterly meaningless…

***

The next morning, he awoke before dawn. No crow was waiting for him.

Trying a different tactic, he broke off a bit of plastoid from his cracked pauldron and set it on the crow’s boulder.

He waited.

Just after dawn, the crow landed on the boulder, cawing immediately at Tech, feathers literally and proverbially ruffled at an unauthorized object occupying his boulder.

But then the corvid calmed, eyeing the object properly, pecking at it as if appraising its value.

“I assure you, it is of a high-quality material,” Tech told the crow. “The fact it is broken means it worked as intended. It did not survive the fall so that I could.”

The crow listened, or at least stared at Tech with intensely black eyes, and then decided - perhaps entirely on his own - to take the plastoid and fly off.

This time Tech ran after crow. 

As he hypothesized, the crow flew directly towards the science facility.

Tech kept his goggleless eyes to the sky as he ran, thanking his imperfect genetics that he was far-sighted, allowing him to track the crow in his pursuit. So long as the crow didn't require him to read a datapad, he only needed to worry about the thick underbrush tearing his compromised under-armor, thorny vines scratching his cheeks, and the uneven ground threatening to trip and trap him.

“Come on, Tech! You can do it!” Hunter’s words echoed in his mind. He chose not to think of Wrecker’s face full of doubt. The crack in Hunter’s voice betraying his words.

Actually, Tech realized. I can do it. 

A crow is capable of flying over ninety kilometers an hour. Tech, even at his healthiest, could reach thirty kilometers an hour.

The crow wants me to follow him, but to where?

As if to answer, the crow suddenly dove towards a hole in the fortress and Tech skidded to a stop just below it.

He gazed quietly at the barred window approximately seven meters above him, the crow’s tail feathers twitching and wiggling as it seemed to be eating something on the sill. 

And then he saw it. Briefly. A flash of familiar fingers. Long and callused and always itching to pull a trigger. 

Fingers that used to wrap around Tech’s hand when the lightning was too bright outside. Fingers that would hold soggy bread in the rain, hoping to conjure a bird that would never come. Fingers that could draw shaky C's and perfect circles.

I found you, Tech thought, his heartbeat growing irregular from this sudden turn of events. Now to get your attention.

***

“Where the hell are your goggles?”

It wasn’t not the first question Tech expected, but a fair one nonetheless.

Tech touched his temple reflexively, trying to adjust goggles that clearly weren’t there. “A long story that I can narrate at a later time. Are you hurt?”

Crosshair pressed his forehead against the bars. “What do you think?”

It wasn’t the answer Tech had hoped to hear.

“How did you know the crow was coming to my cell?” Crosshair asked.

“You used to birdwatch when we were children. That combined with the lack of incentive for anyone on this base to feed a carrion bird. It was obvious. So I gave the corvid a message to give to you.”

“His name is Egg.”

“Egg?” Tech frowned up at Crosshair. “Why is his name Egg?”

“He likes Eggs.”

“So, by that logic, if he enjoyed Colo Claw Fish-”

“Does it look like they feed me sushi here?”

Tech raised a finger…then lowered it. “Point taken.” 

“How are you going to get me out of here?” Crosshair asked. His head disappeared from view a few times and Tech assumed it was to ensure they were speaking privately.

“We’re going to wait for our siblings to retrieve us,” Tech answered.

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know.”

“When are they coming?”

“I’m uncertain.”

“Then how do you know they are coming?” Crosshair asked and the crow - Egg - seemed to echo with an indignant craah. 

“Because they were searching for you when we were separated, and I managed to find you on my own. Given that they are lacking my brilliant mind, it may take some time, but I am sure they will figure it out, find the path to Mount Tantiss and we will be reunited...eventually.”

“Eventually…fantastic,” Crosshair hissed.

It could have been Tech’s impaired vision, but it looked like both Crosshair and the crow rolled their eyes at the same time. 

Tech had missed his brother’s sarcastic wit terribly.

Even if it was directed at him. 

Part 3: Cross and Tech and Egg

[dangraccoon]

The Courtesan

The Bad Batch x Original Character

Summary: The Bad Batch is sent on a mission to rescue a VIP, and they quickly discover her profession and why she’s such an important asset.

Warnings: Firefly Companion-ish escapades shall ensue; 18+ MINORS DNI - BEGONE CHILDREN; smutty smut smut (future chapters)

Mina was grateful for the help, even if she didn’t really need it.

“Miss, get down,” Hunter called, firing a few rounds at the separatist droids.

“I am fine,” she replied, removing the small blaster from the holster secured to her thigh, and hitting 5 or 6 droids with only three shots.

Hunter watched the woman, bewildered.

Wrecker, finally back from freeing Crosshair, plowed through the droid platoon, clearing the way for an escape.

Hunter, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Mina loaded onto the Marauder, where Echo provided cover fire.

Once they were safely out of the atmosphere and making the jump to hyperspace, the group finally started to relax.

“Are you injured Miss Menall?” Tech asked.

“I may have a few bruises, but all in all I’m unharmed, thanks to you all,” she said, looking at each member of the Bad Batch, smiling gratefully.

“Jus’ doin’ our job,” laughed Wrecker.

“You were pretty handy with a blaster back there; if you don’t mind my asking, how did you learn?” Hunter inquired.

“It’s part of the curriculum at the academy,” she stated simply.

“Which academy?” Tech probed.

A look of slight confusion crossed Mina’s face. “Did they not tell you anything about me?”

“They don’t usually,” explained Echo.

“I’m a Courtesan,” she said, but was met by four very confused faces and one uncomfortable one.

“What’s a courtesan?” Wrecker asked.

“Don’t worry, big guy, Tech here can explain it to you,” she grinned, placing a delicate hand on Tech’s chest, causing a deep blush to creep up his neck and a pair of very wide eyes to shift uncomfortably behind the lenses of his goggles.

Satisfied with her teasing, Mina excused herself to the refresher, leaving the four men to stare at their brother curiously.

—————

Mina wasn’t sure what she found more amusing, the way each member of the group would blush and stutter when speaking to her or when she found one of them to be staring when they thought she wasn’t looking. Either way, she was having the time of her life.

Each clone had his own interesting way of interacting with her.

The typically talkative Tech would often opt to say nothing at all, only addressing her if absolutely necessary.

Echo had trouble making eye contact when speaking with her, usually finding his scomp link to be very interesting.

Wrecker would always have some question about anything but her job, and if it ever came up he would chuckle shyly before looking away.

Hunter would typically avoid being in the same room as her, usually finding something to do on the opposite end of the ship.

Crosshair, well, he was different. He would openly ask questions about her occupation, discussing clientele and the services she provided, much to the discomfort of his brothers. He always had a smirk across his face, hoping to catch her off guard or make her uncomfortable. Whenever he found that he couldn’t - at least, not about this - he would go off somewhere to sulk.

It had been about two days into their journey and as amusing as the group’s reactions to her had been, she was starting to get bored. With another week to go, she’d have to find some way to entertain herself.

Perhaps she’ll go and bother Hunter, see if she could get him to stay in the same room as her.

—————

“Sergeant,” Mina purred as the clone was about to leave, muttering something about checking in with Tech.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’d like to discuss something with you, if you have a few moments to spare for me,” she smiled warmly.

He stared at the ground for a few moments, before finally answering. “Yes, ma’am, of course.”

He sat down near her in the ship’s small galley, opting to look at the table instead of her. Mina’s scent was overwhelming; she only used a minuscule amount of perfume, the sweet floral fragrances mixing with her natural warm, earthy scent. It was overwhelming in the best way possible. It felt like it took hold of his brain, pulling him into her like a grappling hook, begging him to take in more.

Having a smart, beautiful, skilled, and sexy woman pulling at his every sense and being in command with a job to do and his brothers to care for - it didn’t mix well, so he often found himself looking anywhere else in the ship for reprieve. But now there was no escape for him. She practically had him cornered, smiling like a tooka who caught a rat.

“What can I do for you Miss Menall?” he asked, doing his best not to fidget.

“You see, darling,” she sighed, the tone and term of endearment sending a chill straight down his spine. “I find myself with a lot of time to think, and I’d like to thank you and your squad for rescuing me.”

She placed a hand lightly on his arm and despite his armor, he felt a jolt of electricity spark between them.

“That’s…very kind of you, ma’am, but unnecessary. We’re just doing our job.” He spoke carefully, doing his best not to show the flurry of emotions that had sent his heart racing.

“Please, Sergeant,” she pleaded, her bottom lip popped out ever so slightly. “There must be something I can do for you all, perhaps some frustration I can relieve?”

His ability to resist her was growing weak. “Maybe you should ask the boys? See if there’s anything -ahem- they’d be…interested in,” Hunter suggested. He knew he’d get harassed by his brothers about this later, but he needed to get out of this situation as soon as possible; his ability to think straight was definitely compromised.

“A wonderful idea,” she hummed. “I think I’ll talk with…”

To whom shall Mina speak?

(coming soon)

Hunter

Wrecker

Tech

Echo

Crosshair

Thanks for reading! - Dang

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[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

Sorry but what exactly is up with the bad batch arc? I've heard people talk about the issues with echo's white skin but I haven't heard that many bad things about the arc itself? (ik you said you don't want to be negative on your blog so I would absolutely understand if you didn't answer this ask)

Oooooooooooh boy. Well I just had a long, long, LONG rant about it with someone, but I guess I’ve got an excuse to put all of my points onto a post and talk about it publicly now that I got an ask x) I’ll keep it under the cut so I don’t throw my salt in people’s face. I really don’t want to upset people who love that arc - it has redeeming qualities, but overall it pisses me off so much for so many reasons. So here:

The first issue is obviously two members of the Bad Batch (minus Echo) being being just about the furthest thing from maori no matter how much you're willing to stretch it. 

Like... yeah, nah. I wouldn’t even accept Crosshair and Tech (grey haired guy and goggles guy) as Jango’s natural biological sons, nevermind as his clones. 

The problem is that their different appearances are justified by them being described simply as clones with desirable mutations (i.e superpowers). But why the hell did the creators have to change their appearances for that to be a thing? How does that correlate? Sure, the concept of clones with different faces is interesting, except... no, no it’s not, and I’m gonna rant about it in a few secs. But basically it's like they thought giving them different faces would be a good substitute for having different personalities (another thing I’ll come back to). If they really wanted to have buff clones with super eyesight or whatnot they could have just done that, without making them lose what little melanin the lighting of the show had allowed the other Clones to keep. 

But the gigantic problem is... showing that the "regular" clones have VERY distinct identities despite their identical faces has been one of the themes of the show from episode 1. Literally, the first episode of TCW has Yoda taking time out of a mission with galactic stakes to tell the three clones he’s with (who tell him they’re all the same because they have the same faces) that they’re wrong, and that they’re very different in the Force, that their appearance doesn’t matter, that they’re all equally unique and important, and he lists all of their individual skills, strengths and weaknesses. 

And it’s not just me being bothered by that, here’s a post by @cacodaemonia​ saying the same thing. 

Introducing the Bad Batch as "unique" clones who are "different" and "not like their brothers" because they have different faces and skills completely breaks that theme of the show!! Because the entire point of the Clones in TCW is that their faces don't matter, they ARE unique! 

(Plus the Bad Batch’s character designs are so cliche and uninspired it’s just laughable to try and justify bleaching their freaking skin for the sake of visual diversity. 

This took like 10 seconds. I found the first guy by literally googling “soldier movies,” and the other two are Team Fortress characters that look a LOT like Wrecker and Crosshair. One is “Heavy” and one is “Sniper” lmao.

And behold:

The above picture is a Team Fortress reference that I found just by looking up “bad batch clone wars,” so I’m not the only person who sees it.) 

And the batchers don't even have personalities to justify calling them unique! They have no character traits beyond the most cliché american soldier tropes ever. We have a token loner sniper, a token "smart tech guy" who knows everything from xenoanthropology to biology to Separatist computers to sound waves to encryption, a token Badass Brooding Leader and a token “dumb muscle guy.”

I dare anyone to find more about their personalities than this: - Crosshair is the perpetually grumpy sniper who looks down on "regs,” - Wrecker likes to blow up stuff and doesn't like heights, - Hunter is the leader and is friends with Cody, - Tech is smart doesn't trust Echo. 

That’s it, that’s literally it. Four episodes about them and that's all we get. These character tropes are literally the least inventive ever. FFS, Hunter even has a freaking KNIFE! Not a vibroblade, mind you, like in kriffing Star Wars. A knife. Against metal droids. Why. They couldn’t make this more of an american-war-movies cliché fest if they tried. (And sure, he can feel electromagnetic waves so maybe it does make sense for him not to carry a vibroblade and maybe this is nitpicking, but he looks like a ripoff of a Predator character and it pisses me off).

Another thing is that when you introduce characters you have to make them likable - and them despising the normal Clones is a terrible way to do that! And they don't even grow from that because at the end of the 4 episodes arc they just see Rex as not bad "for a reg" and they see Echo as no longer a reg, and both of these things are infuriating! 

The worst thing imo is that Echo then becomes part of them (and irreparably loses his melanin in the process, uuuuuuuuugh) when there is nothing to justify this. 

The dialogue goes like this: 

ECHO: You coming? TECH: Not really our thing. CROSSHAIR: Accolades. WRECKER: Yeah, we're just in it for the thrill. Yo! HUNTER: You sure it's your thing? ECHO: What do you mean? HUNTER: Your path is different. Like ours. If you ever feel like you don't fit in with them, well, find us. (they leave) REX: Those are some of the finest troopers I've ever fought alongside. Echo. You and I go way back. If that's where you feel your place is, then that's where you belong.

Echo doesn't feel like he belongs anymore, okay, but why would he feel like he belongs with the assholes who up to the last five minutes of the mission thought he was probably a traitor, and also verbally expressed that he was not worth saving?? In all of the arc, Echo himself never voices that he feels he’s not ‘like the other Clones’ anymore and that he feels it’s a problem. His relationship with Rex immediately picks up where they left things off - the first thing he does upon being lucid again for the first in over a year is cracking a joke for Rex’s benefit. 

Why would Echo feel like he doesn’t belong in the 501st anymore, when we don't even see him interacting with anyone from his past life except for Rex and Anakin (who are both extremely very supportive of him)?? If there had been one scene of a “regular” Clone (ugh) looking at him with horror and disgust or something, or just Kix and Jesse cracking jokes with Echo awkwardly standing by the side not getting it, I could forgive the show trying to make it feel like he has an identity crisis, but this was so shallow!

The only thing that makes Echo and the Bad Batch’s experiences similar is that they *look* different. It’s so against the themes of the Clones I’m seething just from thinking about it. And what the hell? Echo ALREADY didn’t fit in. That was the WHOLE POINT of Domino Squad. They didn’t fit in because they thought they were better than anyone else because they had trouble getting along with their brothers, so obviously it had to be their brothers’ fault (ahem, Bad Batch?). And you know what happened? Domino Squad OVERCAME that. And Echo and Fives still didn’t “fit in” because their personalities were unique and creative, and they became ARC Troopers because Cody, Rex and the Jedi VALUED THEM FOR PRECISELY THAT. Echo having new and unique skills and a modified appearance is the most bs justification for him feeling like he doesn’t belong!! 

And that brings me to my biggest issue: Rex telling Echo the bad batch are some of the best troopers he's ever met. I'm sorry, based on WHAT? What Rex values above everything is loyalty and brotherhood, and the Bad Batch DOESN'T DISPLAY ANY OF THAT. We never see them even expressing concern for each other! Wrecker treats saving Cody’s life like a trivial issue, because it’s just ‘sO eAsY’ for him, and beyond that we never see them supporting each other or genuinely expressing affection for each other beyond boasting about each other’s skills... 

Sure they can destroy a lot of droids, but they're dismissive of Rex's brothers, and the entire Umbara arc and this arc showed what he thought of that. They keep saying things like "not bad for a reg,” don't show any trust in Rex's skills or experience (even though they can't have been fighting in the war for more than a year and a half when he’s been there from the beginning, and he outranks all of them), they are essentially guerilla fighters which has only minimal value in a galactic war, and they never grow beyond their views of what regs are, and can and can’t do. 

None of that should make them good troopers in Rex's book. Going back to Echo not fitting in, remember who taught the Domino Squad the importance of seeing all of your brothers as important and equally valuable? Shaak Ti, true, but more importantly? 99! The guy the Bad Batch are named after. He did have value and was important and was no less of a trooper than his brothers, even though his mutations made him LESS powerful, not more. (And btw, just from a writing standpoint, the batchers don’t have any weaknesses, which is shit.) Cody and Rex mourned 99 as a true soldier even though it wasn’t his sacrifice that brought them victory (which would have implied that he had value as a soldier and a brother because he saved them, as opposed to him having that value intrinsically), because that’s what a fine trooper is to them. A BROTHER first a foremost, someone altruistic, brave and loyal. The Bad Batch distort the meaning of 99's character with their behavior. They’re not altruistic, their bravery is mitigated by the fact that they’re freaking invincible, so of course they take risks (again, see Wrecker saving Cody without a care because it’s easy to him, as opposed to Rex being ready to run into a burning ship about to explode because his brother is in there, and having to be physically dragged away). The Bad Batch denigrate their brothers for being less skilled, thinking their own abilities make them unique somehow, when 99 could barely fight and was still the one who taught Hevy about being a good soldier. 

And again the batchers don't grow from that. Which is all the more frustrating because the original ending didn’t have Echo joining them, from what I remember of the unfinished episodes, and the arc actually ended with them receiving their medals in front of regular troopers who cheer for them, as opposed to them smugly ostracizing themselves and dismissing the ceremony as trivial and meaningless. (original ending vs s7 ending: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ab1eCfzKamw) 

It’s so annoying. Do you know what characters never had an entire arc dedicated to them and still have far more personality and more interesting designs and more symbolic weight?? 

Jesse, for starters. Kix. Dogma. Cut. Slick. Keeli. Ponds. Rys, Jek and Thire. Commander Doom. Commander Fox. Wolffe. Hevy. Hardcase. 

Cody was a more interesting character just in his RotS appearances. 

Waxer and Boil had one episode about them and then only two cameos plus Waxer’s death, and they’re still some of the most memorable, beloved Clones of the whole show. And Boil was grouchy and prejudiced like Crosshair, but he has so much growth that we could make a whole thread about it. 

I'd say the last problem with the Bad Batch is that it has cash grabbing money hungry vibes. Different faces are more marketable, cliché personalities are more toy-friendly, and it's basically a big ad for the Bad Batch series. And they throw Echo in the Batch at the end for bs reasons (again, it wasn’t in the original ep from what I remember) and they tease Cody in the show to make sure fans will still watch even if they notice the lack of soul. And less melanin sells more at Disney apparently. 

So that’s my whole pissed rant. 

[stardust9905]

Egg is such a cute name XD

I LOVE THEM SO MUCHHHH 😭✋️❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

We need Tech back in the show 💔❤️‍🩹😭

Tech and Crow

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (Final) Available also on AO3)

On Eriadu, statistically speaking, humanoids died more often from unnatural causes than old age.

Seventy percent perished from animal attacks.

Ten from disease.

Eighteen percent from venomous plants. 

One-point-ninety nine percent from the Empire.

The remaining zero-point-zero-one percent were given to those flinging themselves from a moving monorail car to save their siblings from death.

Eriadu is not an ideal place to die, Tech thought, midfall. But it’s preferable to dying on a fool’s mission for Sid.

For a few treasured seconds he seemed to be floating rather than falling, the cloud cover making it near impossible to orient himself in any direction, though his stomach was telling him his back would meet the ground first. It would be a painful, but hopefully quick death.

The trees, however, had other ideas, both on how Tech would land, and whether he would survive or not.

The first branch shattered against Tech’s pauldron sending him spinning. Another branch broke against his shin guard. There was a nest of twigs, cotton, and unfertilized eggs that slammed into his helmet essentially blinding him.

As he continued in this downward spiral he attempted to quantify how many branches were needed to slow his fall and increase his survival rate. The fact he was hitting branches once every half second told him the odds were in his favor. Evidently, the Eriadian redwood forest was an ideal place to free fall from a considerable height.

Good to know.

While he couldn't control the rate in which he was falling, nor the amount of branches he was shattering, he did manage to land on his back. And in doing so, he jettisoned the remaining breath from his lungs.

He lay there, very still, unfortunately awake, and gasping for air that wouldn't come. Darkness crept around the edge of his vision. He struggled to stay awake. Struggled to breathe. Panic was rising within him.

There is no need to panic, he tried to remind himself. This is just a reaction to present trauma. There is no immediate danger. Breathe...breathe...

Even as the breath returned to him, a new problem arose. He couldn't slow his breathing down, nor calm his heart rate, and the anxiety frayed his nerves as if he were still falling. 

He tried a different tactic: He recalculated the unnatural death toll on Eriadu:

Seventy percent perished from animal attack.

Ten from disease.

Eighteen percent from venomous plants. 

And now two percent from the Empire.

As a youngling, Tech's exceptional mind had mastered every intellectual acuity test presented to him. However, no amount of brilliance would help him when it came to combat training. All altered clones had a defect in one form or another. His came in the shape of bowed and twisted legs, not suitable for a soldier.

It was logical that the Kaminoans broke his legs to reset them. Logical and agonizing. Tech was bed-ridden for weeks. 

They gave him a datapad filled with as much reading material as he could absorb, but even then there was no distracting him from the pain nor the panicked episodes that came with it.

He didn’t want visitors. Didn’t want to appear weak to his brothers. Soldiers weren’t bed-ridden. Soldiers didn’t cry from fear of an uncertain future.

Crosshair ignored Tech’s request for isolation. He appeared every day, three times a day, always for meals. He claimed he was just there to steal Tech’s bread roll, but he only ever took a bite and stayed long after Tech ate the rest of the meal.

Crosshair wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but he would sit on the edge of Tech’s bed, cleaning his beloved DC-15A cadet blaster rifle, and casually ask Tech questions. 

“Why do Kaminoans have such long necks?”

“Who would win in a fight? A Jedi with a vibroblade or a Mandalorian with a lightsaber?”

“How many B1s would it take to equal the power of Jango Fett?”

Tech stared up at the Eriadian sky, mostly obscured by broken branches and his cracked and smudged lens. 

He’d give anything for one of Crosshair’s thinly veiled questions to distract him from the pain and panic.

And truly...he’d give anything to see Crosshair again, regardless.  

***

It took fourteen days and seventeen hours to find Mount Tantiss on the planet, Weyland. It would have taken half that time if Tech had his goggles, a working datapad, and (admittedly) his siblings. Fourteen days was plenty of time to heal his body from its fall, but even at peak condition the climb up the mountain was arduous. Tedious even. Slower as he had to make camp and find food and disarm Imperial sensors the whole way up.

Seventy-eight hours later, he found himself at the base of the Imperial science facility. 

He also found himself exhausted.

“Come on, Tech! You can do it!” Hunter had cheered all those years ago as young Tech clung to the middle rung of the monkey-lizard bars high over the training grounds. The platform might as well be located on another planet.

Tech’s legs had been reset the previous year. He was fully healed. There was no excuse for this fragility. Yet his muscles shook with effort, sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes.

“I’m gonna get him,” Wrecker said.

“No!” Hunter pulled his brother back. “He can do it!”

“No, he can’t! Look at him!” Wrecker whined, face full of worry. 

“C’mon, Tech! A little further!” Hunter looked worried too, even as he cheered his brother on. 

Even as Tech’s grip began to slip.

To this day, Tech didn't remember Crosshair's reaction to his failure that day. What was the point of recalling it, anyway?

Utterly meaningless, he always told himself when he'd try to recall. And he would attempt this often.

***

A carrion crow visited Tech the morning after he collapsed from fatigue a kilometer from the science facility. 

The corvid landed on his back, then proceeded to hop in little circle as if Tech was his own personal, albeit ineffective, trampoline.

Tech hadn’t noticed he had become an amusement ride for the crow until it cawed rather rudely and directly into his ear.

Jolting awake at the caustic alarm, Tech jumped to his feet, pulling his blaster and pointing it at...a few feathers that had been jostled from the startled bird. The crow landed on a nearly smooth boulder nearby, croaking as if flabbergasted by the audacity of Tech’s reaction, then flew off in a cackling rage.

The day was spent doing recon of the area. The sheer density of this side of the jungle kept troopers away, and by nightfall Tech had made a decent, albeit temporary, base.

That evening Tech dreamed.

“You remember ‘C’, don’t you?” Tech asked the small boy sitting beside him. It was a very real memory, but his subconscious twisted timelines, making him a fully grown adult sitting next to a small, gray-haired boy hunched over the datapad, stylus awkward in his little fingers.

“I remember,” Crosshair said, stubbornly, stylus making a vertical line.

“C is for curved,” Tech recited the pneumonic, smiling to himself as Crosshair quickly readjusted his stylus, making a shaky but clear C.

“Now an ‘R’.”

Crosshair hissed in frustration, stylus lifting and lowering onto the screen making little angry dots on the workbook page. “I don’t want to.”

“Shall we do it together?” Tech asked.

“No,” Crosshair insisted, even as he sat closer to Tech and leaned against him. Tech put his hand over his brother's to guide him. “Up, and around, and down to the ground.” Tech said.

“I can do ‘O’ by myself,” Crosshair said, pushing Tech’s hand off of his own, though he still leaned against Tech as he drew a mathematically perfect circle. 

The dream had taken liberties, but the scene was more or less how Tech remembered Crosshair writing his name for the first time. The dream neglected to recall Crosshair asking Tech not to tell their brothers that he struggled to write his own name.

But Tech was allowed to know. Only Tech. And Tech kept his word to this day.

“Let’s see how you did,” Tech said, in this more or less accurate dream.

He picked up the datapad and read in perfectly block letters.

[H E L P  M E]

Tech startled awake. 

He told himself it was just a dream. Memories and information and out of context stimuli colliding together into something nonsensical.

Utterly meaningless, he told himself, even as he wiped the tears from his cheeks.

It was still night. The moonlight punched its way through the canopy of trees, offering illumination that only helped to remind Tech just how alone he was on this mountain.

Actually, Tech corrected, the moon doesn’t illuminate anything. The light I’m seeing is a reflection of the sun. 

This factoid did little to alleviate the situation. 

But he felt better acknowledging it.

***

The crow returned the next morning holding something in its beak: a small pinecone, young and green. The pinecone had no nutritional value to the corvid, nor was it proper nesting material.

Crows have been known to offer gifts as a sign of gratitude for an agreeable exchange or action.

The gift was obviously not for Tech considering he had pulled a blaster on the corvid upon their first meeting.

Who are you giving your gifts to? Tech wondered. A bored trooper? A sensitive officer? A desperate prisoner?

“A desperate prisoner wouldn’t sacrifice food for trinkets,” he concluded to the crow.

The crow hopped around the boulder once, twice, then flew directly at Tech, who ducked just as the crow smacked a wing against his head mid-flight. Even with the pinecone in his beak, Tech swore he could hear a throaty cackle.

Tech continued his recon of the science facility as best he could without being discovered. Getting close to the building wasn’t an issue, it was getting near anything resembling an entrance that was the issue. He had one blaster against an unknown amount of guards, which meant all he could do was recon. And then he would fill his siblings in when they arrived.

It never occurred to him his brothers and sister wouldn’t eventually come to the same conclusion as he. They would find this planet. They would find Tech and receive his very useful intel, and then they would save Crosshair. The squad would finally be reunited.

It would all work out. It had to.

He couldn’t afford to think of the alternative. Worrying about it was useless.

Utterly meaningless…

***

The next morning, he awoke before dawn. No crow was waiting for him.

Trying a different tactic, he broke off a bit of plastoid from his cracked pauldron and set it on the crow’s boulder.

He waited.

Just after dawn, the crow landed on the boulder, cawing immediately at Tech, feathers literally and proverbially ruffled at an unauthorized object occupying his boulder.

But then the corvid calmed, eyeing the object properly, pecking at it as if appraising its value.

“I assure you, it is of a high-quality material,” Tech told the crow. “The fact it is broken means it worked as intended. It did not survive the fall so that I could.”

The crow listened, or at least stared at Tech with intensely black eyes, and then decided - perhaps entirely on his own - to take the plastoid and fly off.

This time Tech ran after crow. 

As he hypothesized, the crow flew directly towards the science facility.

Tech kept his goggleless eyes to the sky as he ran, thanking his imperfect genetics that he was far-sighted, allowing him to track the crow in his pursuit. So long as the crow didn't require him to read a datapad, he only needed to worry about the thick underbrush tearing his compromised under-armor, thorny vines scratching his cheeks, and the uneven ground threatening to trip and trap him.

“Come on, Tech! You can do it!” Hunter’s words echoed in his mind. He chose not to think of Wrecker’s face full of doubt. The crack in Hunter’s voice betraying his words.

Actually, Tech realized. I can do it. 

A crow is capable of flying over ninety kilometers an hour. Tech, even at his healthiest, could reach thirty kilometers an hour.

The crow wants me to follow him, but to where?

As if to answer, the crow suddenly dove towards a hole in the fortress and Tech skidded to a stop just below it.

He gazed quietly at the barred window approximately seven meters above him, the crow’s tail feathers twitching and wiggling as it seemed to be eating something on the sill. 

And then he saw it. Briefly. A flash of familiar fingers. Long and callused and always itching to pull a trigger. 

Fingers that used to wrap around Tech’s hand when the lightning was too bright outside. Fingers that would hold soggy bread in the rain, hoping to conjure a bird that would never come. Fingers that could draw shaky C's and perfect circles.

I found you, Tech thought, his heartbeat growing irregular from this sudden turn of events. Now to get your attention.

***

“Where the hell are your goggles?”

It wasn’t not the first question Tech expected, but a fair one nonetheless.

Tech touched his temple reflexively, trying to adjust goggles that clearly weren’t there. “A long story that I can narrate at a later time. Are you hurt?”

Crosshair pressed his forehead against the bars. “What do you think?”

It wasn’t the answer Tech had hoped to hear.

“How did you know the crow was coming to my cell?” Crosshair asked.

“You used to birdwatch when we were children. That combined with the lack of incentive for anyone on this base to feed a carrion bird. It was obvious. So I gave the corvid a message to give to you.”

“His name is Egg.”

“Egg?” Tech frowned up at Crosshair. “Why is his name Egg?”

“He likes Eggs.”

“So, by that logic, if he enjoyed Colo Claw Fish-”

“Does it look like they feed me sushi here?”

Tech raised a finger…then lowered it. “Point taken.” 

“How are you going to get me out of here?” Crosshair asked. His head disappeared from view a few times and Tech assumed it was to ensure they were speaking privately.

“We’re going to wait for our siblings to retrieve us,” Tech answered.

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know.”

“When are they coming?”

“I’m uncertain.”

“Then how do you know they are coming?” Crosshair asked and the crow - Egg - seemed to echo with an indignant craah. 

“Because they were searching for you when we were separated, and I managed to find you on my own. Given that they are lacking my brilliant mind, it may take some time, but I am sure they will figure it out, find the path to Mount Tantiss and we will be reunited...eventually.”

“Eventually…fantastic,” Crosshair hissed.

It could have been Tech’s impaired vision, but it looked like both Crosshair and the crow rolled their eyes at the same time. 

Tech had missed his brother’s sarcastic wit terribly.

Even if it was directed at him. 

Part 3: Cross and Tech and Egg