#tbb:t

[shadestepping]

The Bad Batch- Trespass: “Crossroads”, pt. 2

Word Count: 3,179 Characters: Crosshair, Trinn Kryze (Original), Captain Mal Kryze (Original), Commander Reina Darr (Original) Date: 9 rotations after “Kamino Lost” Themes: NO romance, NO smut, simply a “what if” AU with OC’s- My purpose(s) for writing this specific fic were simple: I wanted to get a better picture of what was going through Crosshair’s mind in Season 1, and I wanted to write a fic that told the story of what could and would have happened if he had deviated from the canon path, and gotten out from under the Empire’s control sooner rather than later. This starts with the decision to get off Kamino rather than sit and wait for the Empire to come looking for him. One crossroad leads to another, and each decision made steers him toward a better future- one of redemption and a life of his own making.

Synopsis: Crosshair is found by the crew of the Trespass, and offered a lift off of Kamino.

Archive link: [ Crossroads ] [ Part 1 ]

Mandalorians? Was he having a fever dream? 

Well, this was certainly a surprise.

Crosshair stopped in his tracks and took a suspicious step back from the approaching craft. Of all the wayward ships he’d theorized might have picked up his distress beacon, the Night Watch—who had been busy staging their own uprising against the Empire on Mandalore, at least twelve thousand parsecs from Kamino—wasn’t even an honorable mention. 

There was no reason for them to be out this far on the opposite side of the outer rim. And even if they were already within range, the reasons why the rogue warriors of House Vizsla would respond to an Imperial distress beacon were few- most of which did not bode well for his survival. 

An Imperial Commander ranked high on the rebellion’s list of targets, not only as a necessary piece to remove from the board, but as a valuable source of intel. Fortunately for him, all commandos had been rigorously trained to resist interrogation; unfortunately , he’d just spent nine days exposed to constant battering rain, on minimal nutrition and little-to-no sleep. He was starving, sick, weak and paranoid, and high on his last stims. Even the most hardened ARC’s would crack if their Jedi General was to get her hands on them in this state.

Suddenly his ticket off Big Stormy didn’t look so appealing.

Cross squinted, shakily slipped a toothpick into the corner of his mouth, and kept a safe distance from the edge. “You’re a long way from Mandalore,” he drawled with pointed apprehension.

“And you look mighty miserable, standin’ there all by your lonesome.” She grinned with such familiarity it made his stomach churn. “Why don’tcha come in outta the cold and we’ll take you to the nearest starport?”

Hunger pains nipped at his resolve but he didn’t bite. He shifted the pick from one corner of his mouth to the other and further narrowed his eyes as she moved between the support pistons.

“Somethin’ wrong, trooper?”

“You could say that,” he answered with a crooked nod. “Why are you here?”

The Mandalorian furrowed her brow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“ Humor me .”

“We were passin’ through and picked up your distress beacon,” she explained as the freighter lowered just enough for him to hop onto the ramp, if he chose. “Ain’t seen hide nor hair of anyone else for at least ten parsecs… nonna whom were rushin’ to Kamino to respond to an Imperial in distress, anyway.”

And there it was, the hook: no ships in range that would consider braving the Kaminoan storms to rescue one lone Imperial. If the Night Watch were convinced enough that they were safe risking a stop, then the Empire really must have abandoned the system.

One arm trembled as he crossed and tucked it under the other, a tell that he needed food and rest soon. “And why did the Night Watch decide to rush to my aid?” he sneered. “Are you really doing this out of the goodness of your hearts? Or are you just hoping for a hostage?”

She was taken aback by the heat in his assumption, but he wasn’t wrong to be skeptical of their intentions. The Night Watch was about as friendly to the Empire as the Republic had been to the Confederacy during the Clone Wars, and it was unheard of for Mandalorians to offer help to their enemies.

“We heard comm chatter about Tipoca’s destruction, so when we saw where your beacon was comin’ from, we didn’t really think twice. The clones helped us once, and we wanted to return the favor.”

He was almost inclined to believe her. These do-gooder rebels were known to have taken in clone deserters and sympathetic parties. If they weren’t looking for a hostage, they were probably hoping to convert one more disillusioned soldier to their cause, the irony of which wasn’t lost on him. They would have had better luck recruiting Clone Force 99 into their ranks, had they come across his brothers rather than him. Swearing allegiance to the Night Watch would have been an easy transition for men in their position- aside from fulfilling their need to ‘do the right thing’, they’d have the security of the clan to protect Omega, stable sources of food and work, and clarity of purpose-

All of which he could have provided, had they just returned to the Empire.

The Empire that had just destroyed their home? The Empire that turned their noses up at the very soldiers who had single-handedly eradicated the Jedi and seized control of the entire Galaxy with one order? The Empire that had made it very clear that the future of their service, their very survival, was not guaranteed…?

Why in the nine hells had he chosen this over his family? For purpose, for stability, for influence ? Fat lot of good that had done him.

Crosshair grimaced, reached up and pressed the heel of his hand into the piercing headache as it shot through his temporal lobe. He hadn’t had a single independent thought that went unpunished, nor a moment of painless clarity, since his chip had activated. 

“... hey- you okay?”

“Do I look okay ?”

He caught the way her face lit up in recognition out of the corner of his eye but didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t need her sympathy—it wouldn’t have helped him anyway—and he didn’t want her empathy. 

A deeper feminine voice boomed from inside the cargo hold, beckoning Trinn to get inside and close the hatch so they could leave. After gesturing back to them to ‘Give me a minute’, she turned her attention back to him and tried again.

“Look- I can only imagine the week you’ve had, but I’d hope you’d still have enough sense t’not look a gift-fathier in the mouth.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he replied before he could change his mind. Leaving now—after all that time spent gaining ground with Rampart—would be a waste, and he wasn’t about to concede.

“You sure? Maker knows when your next chance will be. Do you really want to sit here for another…” Her voice trailed off and she rolled a shrug to illustrate.

Fierfek , she was right. Not even pirates or scrappers would have bothered withstanding Kamino’s hazards for the promise of a mediocre payday. Crosshair’s throat bobbed at the thought of being stuck on Kamino any longer. Due to his accelerated metabolism, he was already running dangerously low on rations, despite his best efforts to make them last. He could stretch them maybe another week if he bit off just enough to keep himself from starving to death, but he could already feel the weakness creeping into his bones. He was losing muscle density, ketosis was setting in. At this rate, it was either stay and risk an unpleasant death, or leave and possibly be taken prisoner. Had he been at full strength, he had no doubt he would be able to fight back in the case of the latter, but the number of soldiers aboard the craft was an unknown variable. 

And who knew if the Empire would really be back.

His voice cracked as he forced the question. “You’ll take me to the closest starport, no strings attached…?”

“So long as you don’t rat us out.”

The lines in his forehead crinkled, arms dropped and balled his fingers into fists at his sides. He’d have plenty of time to rehearse the conversation with Admiral Rampart about how he had gotten his team killed and survived an orbital bombardment on a city that was now completely underwater. Lying about Clone Force 99’s survival wasn’t an issue, but crawling back empty-handed yet again wouldn’t earn him any favor. At the rate his failures were piling up, he’d be lucky to get an early retirement.

Don’t fool yourself- all you'll ever be to them is a number.

Trinn’s boots scraped as they shifted against the durasteel and turned away. “Fine, I’ll just tell my pilot to turn around-”

“ No ,” he finally conceded with a low, snarling growl. If the objective was survival, the strategy was obvious: control what you can. Even if he ended up in a cell, he’d have food and shelter. His odds of survival were better if he took the gamble of leaving with sympathetic enemies. 

So long as he gave them no reason to distrust him, and nothing to work with. 

Vertigo hit him as he lunged onto the swaying ship. One leg staggered and buckled, and he hit the deck hard as Trinn reacted and reached for his forearm. It slipped out of her grasp until her hand caught at the neck of his wrist and tightly gripped the plating over his hand. His body lurched with all of his weight pulling at his shoulder socket, and whipped his head around to bring him face-to-face with the Kaminoan deep. Sickness rose in his gut as the swell crashed beneath him, and just as he started to black out, he was yanked back into the safety of the cluttered cargo hold with incredible ease. Crosshair groaned as he hit the ground and pressed his fingers into his eyes, writhing on the vibrating floor beneath him.

Another heavier pair of boots approached him from across the room and came to a stop inches from his face, and he looked up into the face of a behemoth of a Mandalorian woman—as thick as he was tall, yet dwarfed him in presence alone—staring down at him with a steely blue, unyielding gaze. Impervious didn’t even begin to describe her.

“Weapons off, Comms and beacons out the ship,” she demanded with a curt nod over his shoulder.

Crosshair sat back on his heels. “Is that really necessary ?”

“Not dealing with you reneging on our agreement, or having your Imperial friends tag us mid-flight.”

He couldn’t fault them for being thorough, but he still hesitated and grimaced in protest as he pushed himself to his feet. He reached for the backup deecee pistol first, then Hunter’s knife which he’d tucked into the plate over his calf, and set them down on the fold-out lockup bench to the left of him. As he reached for his Firepuncher, he leaned forward to give it enough room to swing over his head without hitting the bulkhead, and set it down next to the others with a more reverent touch. 

“Commpad and distress beacon.”

Crosshair grit his teeth and held her gaze with a curled upper lip, unclipped the comm-pad from his vambrace and thrust it out the ship behind him into the raging sea. “Beacon’s wired to the power in my kit.”

“I’ll handle it.” Trinn stepped up behind him and unseated the pack from the mag-plate in his cuirass, then motioned him forward and raised the loading ramp as the muscly woman reached for the vibro-blade and let out a low whistle of approval. 

“I want that back,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed past her into the staging area of the cargo bay and smothered the urge to share that it held sentimental value.

The redhead gripped the hilt and flipped it around and over between her fingers with practiced ease, testing the balance with marveled interest. “Who wouldn’t ?” 

Trinn set his pack down at the workbench against the wall to the right and raised her commpad to signal to their pilot. 

“Sentry-one, we’re clear.”

“ Copy .”

The miniscule shift of directional force as the ship departed the platform disrupted his equilibrium mid-step. One hand instinctively reached for the bulkhead handrail but he instead caught himself on the cargo webbing strung along the walls. His shaky legs wobbled as he pulled himself over onto the bench in the corner beside the interrior blast doors and dropped with all of his weight onto the bare durasteel. Crosshair’s tired eyes fell shut as he drew in a deep breath and released it with a relieved grunt. Circumstances aside, this was already infinitely better than sitting on that platform in the rain.

The female officer folded the bench containing all of his weapons into the wall and secured it for hyperspace, then cast him a skeptical glance before she passed through the doors. Her heavy footsteps receded deeper into the ship until the vibration could be heard no more, and she greeted someone with a curt “ Commander .” 

“ Captain ,” an androgynous voice replied, equally as curt. “ Report .”

“ Found one Imperial, right where they said he’d be. ”

They…? Someone had sent them here for him…? The only people that even knew he was still alive was Clone Force 99, who—as far as he knew—had no affiliation with the Night Watch. If they had friends like that, they wouldn’t have been scurrying from job to job like rats. So who would they have told…? Rebels? The clone underground made the most sense. So they did have contacts somewhere out there looking out for them. 

And he did as well, it seemed. Despite leaving him behind, his brothers hadn’t given up on him after all. They were still giving him chances he didn’t deserve. 

“ So he’s not a clone? ”

“ Doesn’t look like any clone I’ve ever seen… ”

“ Then why are we taking him with us? ”

“ We’re already here, the chakaar looks like he hasn’t eaten in days. You really gonna leave him here to die? ”

“ He’s an Imperial , we gain nothing by helping him, bringin’ him on board the ship is a huge security risk to us. ”

“ Trinn’s disabling his beacon, he has no comms. We’ll be fine. ”

Trinn kicked at the toe of his boot to get his attention and snapped him out of his focus.

“Plates off.”

“Buy me dinner first,” he sneered back without looking up. 

She puffed out a low chuckle. “Savin’ your sorry shebs wasn’t enough?”

“I know what I’m worth.”

“C’mon,” she persisted, dropping his pack next to him on the floor. “You wanna stay on the ship? I need to disable that beacon. Then you can sleep as long as you want.”

Crosshair grimaced and turned away from her in protest. His entire life, his plates had been the only thing between him and an untimely death. It didn’t feel right being out of them, much less in the presence of his enemies. 

“What’s the matter, you shy?”

“Forgive me for not trusting that you won’t shoot me in the back the moment I do.”

“We could still shove you out the airlock at any time.”

He stiffened and bristled instinctively before realizing it was a joke. She was joking with him.

“I’ll give you a minute to yourself,” she said as she double-checked that the weapon stores were locked up tight on her way to the door, then turned on heel and pointed back his way. “But don’t try anything, or you’ll have my sister t’answer to.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes and gave her a sarcastic two-fingered salute as the door shut behind her before reaching up to unclip his breastplate. He’d lost track of the conversation between the Captain and Commander once Trinn interrupted him, but without the distraction he could hear them again clear as day.

“ I don’t get why they’d send us out here for one stormtrooper. ”

“ Well, maybe we’ve got it wrong. Maybe he is a clone. ”

“ Oh, for sure he is., ” Trinn proclaimed without hesitation, drawing a snort from the Captain.

“ What makes you so sure? ”

“ Well, for one thing- I don’t think a teekay trooper would have survived that mess on their own.”

Crosshair set his chestplate down on the floor and almost laughed at the thought. The TK’s had been trained by Clone Commandos for infantry combat and security. They hadn’t undergone the rigorous survival training that had killed many clones before they had even deployed. 

“They’re not exactly bright, I’ll give you that.”

“ Exactly, and this one’s too smart- gehatyc, ramikadyc.”

“A Commando? You think so?”

“Yeah, they all have the look in their eye- resentment, guilt, instant distrust of anyone that ain’t a brother... ”

“Could be the shell-shock.”

“Or, it’s ‘cause he’s still chipped.”

“And you left him alone!?”

“Relax, Reina. Mal can handle him.”

He wasn’t the only one that was smart. Trinn was observant ( too observant for his liking ), the Captain was cautious. If he’d learned anything about Mandalorians from Skirata and Vau, it’s that they were not to be underestimated. Each was a Commando by their own right, their entire culture had evolved around survival. Mandalore’s heritage had made the Clone army, without their training he and his brothers would have been long dead. 

And this crew was well-trained. If the rest of the Night Watch was half as competent—and he was certain they were—it was no wonder they were giving the Empire a run for their credits. Though their rebellion against the Imperial occupation of Mandalore had just begun, their notoriety had already spread to the farthest reaches of the Galaxy, inspiring other Separatist-allied planets like Raxus to follow suit. 

It was dangerous for him to linger for too long.

“We should have Noei take a look at him.”

“No way. We’re not taking a chipped Commando back to base.”

“Just drop me off at the nearest starport and I’ll find my way,” he cut in from the doorway behind them. 

All three heads snapped around in unison. Trinn’s hand flexed over the blaster on her thigh, Captain Mal braced herself for a fight, the Pilot fixed an intense gaze on him from behind their goggles. His vision blurred, he swayed on his feet. For a brief moment of confusion, in the dimly lit hallway, he saw the faces of his brothers staring back at him in cautious apprehension…

Then Trinn straightened up and shoved Mal back onto her heels with a muttered udesii as she passed. Their pilot-Commander exchanged a glance with Captain Mal, grunted and finally ceded.

“We’ll drop you off at Capital City on Uyter. It’s about a day’s flight out, but you shouldn’t have a problem gettin’ in touch with your friends there.”

“Works for me.”

Trinn motioned him back into the cargo bay, stooped to pick up his armor as he carefully lowered himself back onto the bench, then sat down at the workbench and popped open the backing that protected the circuitry. The distress beacon in his kit exhaled a low, digitized squeal as it powered down minutes later. He was truly on his own now, no one else was coming for him.

And yet, part of him couldn’t help but feel like he should be making better use of the situation he’d found himself in. 

“I knew you’d change your mind,” Trinn offered in the silence that followed.

“You did, did you…?” Stars, this one was as irritating as she was cute. He was starting to wish he was alone again. The sooner the better.

Crosshair sank down into his seat until he was laying flat on the bench with his legs stretched out long, folded his arms, and closed his eyes. He couldn’t see her face, but the silence was telling. He knew she was grinning.

Worldbuilding

The Night Watch: The name for the Mandalorian Resistance against the Empire, following the Imperial Reformation of Mandalore, which consisted of Bo-Katan Kryze and her Night Owls, the Protectors, what would eventually become known as “the Clan”, and most of House Viszla. This Resistance was led by a former Jedi Padawan named Fae-Rao Viszla—the first Mandalorian to enter the order since Tarre Viszla—and was aided by a group of mixed non-Mandalorians and clone deserters, who sympathized with the plight of Mandalore.

[shadestepping]

Send me asks for my Trespass babes! ❤️

Oc Asks Game

So I decided to make this because I want to get to know my OCs better and all of yours as well. Here is a short collection of asks but here is the rule: Reblog from somebody and you have to send them an ask, its only polite after all.

What is your character's reaction to a minor inconvenience? Such as getting their jumper caught on a door handle?

Tea, coffee, hot chocolate or other?

What does their safe space look like?

What do they consider to be an unforgivable action? Why?

Do they have any nicknames or pet names or other aliases?

What kind of books comfort them? What books help them heal after a hard day?

Are they a naturally assertive person or are they painfully shy?

Do they consider themselves a friendly person or aloof?

What is your character's trigger point? What makes them angry, sad or makes them go off?

What kind of jokes make them laugh?

Do they enjoy pranks or do they hate them? Are they likely to fall for a prank?

Are they an overall healthy person? Do they make for a good patient or a terror?

Describe your character's typical wardrobe for the regular day.

Are they a simple person to please or difficult?

What is the first thing people notice about them?

What do they look for in a friend? A love interest?

Who are they soft for? Do they find being soft easy or difficult?

Describe your character through a Brooklyn 99 gif or line.

What does your character consider to be their lowest point?

Does your character have a comfort item?

What would be one item that they would hate to lose most?

What are their eating habits like? Do they snack throughout the day? Or do they eat sparsely?

What is your character's favourite food and who cooks it best?

What are your character's special skills?

What are somethings they find difficult to do? Or say?

Are they an animal person? Do they have pets?

What are their opinions on children? Do they view children as sweet angels or evil crotch goblins?

If your character was in today's world, what social media platforms would they avoid? Or be prominent on?

Are they an organised person? Or more laissez-faire?

Do they dwell better in chaotic situations or more linear situations?

Your character has been invited to a masquerade ball. What mask do they wear?

Your character is having a prom night/debs. What kind of outfit do they wear?

How do they act around people they don't know? Are they shy around strangers or dismissive of them?

Can your character drive? If so, what kind of driver are they? If not what's their preferred manner of transport?

What attracts your character to another person? What kind of person do they do for?

Tell us something about your OC that doesn't make it onto the page?

Your character has been kidnapped. Who has kidnapped them and how do they escape?

How does your character unwind after a long day?

What's your character's guilty pleasure?

Your character's friend has just been mugged. What's their reaction?

Your character has been punched into the face. What's their reaction?

Does your character celebrate their birthday? If not, why?

What is the DND alignment?

Hogwarts House?

Star Sign?

Does your character believe in anything? Religion? Superstition?

What is your character's reaction when someone does something nice for them?

Is your character easy to make cry? Or angry? Or annoyed?

What is your character's biggest fear? Most irrational?

How does your sleep at night? Are they a heavy or light sleeper? Do they dream or have nightmares? Do they find it easy to sleep or are they more a night owl?

[shadestepping]

For the fic ask: never

Thank you Tori! 🫶🏻

From part 3 of “Crossroads”:

Most of the clones had considered Kamino their home, but he’d always hated it. Its destruction didn’t bother him half as much as the hard realization that things could never go back to the way they were, no matter how hard they tried, and the clones’ days with the Empire were numbered. Every day, more and more, he saw it, feared it, felt it: the imminent expiration of their purpose. It was part of the reason he’d fought so hard to show the Empire his worth, to avoid becoming redundant, or worse- obsolete.

[shadestepping]

🌹

(You’re getting a few, because I said so 💕)

He bristled at the thought of that smug osik’sheb gloating at his failure. Cross had been on thin ice since he returned from Bracca empty-handed, but when they’d brought Hunter in from Daro he could feel the Admiral’s patience wearing thin by the way he whispered behind his back. His decommissioning had been a long time coming, no matter how hard he fought it, he just wished the coward had told him to his face (instead of firing from orbit) so he could spit in it.

——————

Let Crosshair spit in Rampart’s face 2k22 ™

**osik’sheb = shit-ass

[shadestepping]

Reblogging again because I need every one of my followers to read and understand this.

Affection is not inherently romantic.

To reiterate-

Cheek/face/hand kisses are not inherently romantic. They can also be greetings, comfort, or platonic affection.

Hand-holding and bed-sharing is not inherently romantic. It can also be for comfort or security.

A lot of things that are normally interpreted as romantic are also ways of comforting or otherwise making a person feel more secure, or just showing affection.

Context and body language is everything.

Some of y’all think that holding hands and sharing a bed is immediately romantic, and this is why people cannot differentiate between romantic, platonic, and familial forms of love.

[shadestepping]

Welp, I was tagged by @c-ones-adults-only-club in a thread that I can’t reblog to reply to because the original author has me blocked for gods only knows why! 🙃 So I’m starting another self-hype writing train.

CHOO-CHOO ALL YOU LOVELY DI’KUTS! 💕 Show me your favorite lines and / or passages from your fics!

Destiny

From ‘Fireteam Daybreak- Discharge’

Laila summoned her Arcblade again with a bright flash and a violent thunderclap that energized the brick under their feet, and once the air had settled, Laila gestured for him to attack her with a one-handed taunt. “You think you know better than me…? Then show me your mastery,” she challenged, nearly growling it out.

For a moment, Cayde froze, processes halted and mouth lights bright- Laila was a live-wire in every sense of the word, threatening but intriguing, unapproachable; he may have been cocky, but he wasn’t stupid.

Detroit: Become Human

From ‘DBH: Illuminate- Coffee Break: Broken Nose’

It was supposed to be their fresh start, their chance at a better life, to escape the abuse and the toxic expectations that they were supposed to be anyone other than who they were: black sheep, troubled kids, the ones “with issues running so deep” adults had labeled them hopeless.

Star Wars

From ‘The Bad Batch: Trespass- A Statistical Loss’

Despite his expectations, the one thing he couldn’t account for was the degree of emotional dysregulation from his concussion exacerbating his own response. He had seen grief like this in the eyes of displaced civilians and retired veterans, but he had never held it in his arms, never felt it deconstruct a soul as he did when Reina reached around his body with their good arm and clawed at the fabric over his back. Tension rippled through their shoulders, despondent sobbing rattled their chest, the mass expulsion of melancholic energy permeated to his very core… the true weight of it was inescapable. ‘Crushing’ turned out to be his greatest understatement in recent memory.

Tagging my lovelies @tecker @madameminor @fandumbug @wolveria @studioramekin @grayorca15

[shadestepping]

New mando’a term of endearment dropping in this fic because why not

dral kar’ta = “bright-heart”

Based on: “dral” (bright) and “kar’ta” (heart/soul) + other observed conjugations / combinations of words

[shadestepping]

The Bad Batch- Trespass: "A Statistical Loss", pt. 1

Word Count: 1,610 Characters: Crosshair, Tech, Trinn Kryze (original), Mal Kryze (original), Reina Darr (original) Date: Early-Mid 16 BBY

The crew of the Trespass finds themselves thrown out of hyperspace and hurtling through Imperial territory in a dying ship, with little chance of survival.

Part 1: (you are here) -- Part 2: [ link ] -- Part 3: [ link ] -- Part 4: [ link ] -- Part 5: [ link ] -- Part 6: [ link ] -- Part 7: [ link ]

Archive Link: [ Ao3 ]

The Darvro-class freighter heaved a violent shudder as it dropped out of hyperspace and bellowed out a cacophony of snapping, hissing, and sparking throughout the cabin from the cockpit to the cargo hold. It was by sheer dumb luck that the Trespass had sustained too much damage in their dogfight with the Empire to make it all the way back to Concord Dawn, even worse luck that it was now on a direct collision course with an Imperial deepdock, drifting through the rings of Phelbos.

Tech scrambled for diagnostic readings while Reina flipped switches and dials in a wild frenzy, struggling to keep the ship in one piece.

“How bad is it?” they yelled over the blaring alarms and thudding asteroids impacting the hull.

Their co-pilot cringed as a coolant line burst over his head and crystallized the moisture on his goggles on contact. One hand snapped up to crimp the line shut so he could see, while Mal rushed in to patch as much of the damage as she could. “Hyperdrive’s shot, pressure is rising in the combustion chamber. We are losing control of the aft stabilizers-”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, an explosion rocked the ship’s right wing, catapulting Crosshair out of his rack and into the wall to wake him in the rudest way imaginable. Trinn unbraced herself between the bunks and knelt down beside him to assess the damage as he rolled over on the floor. “Hey! You alright?”

He groaned and pressed his palm into the side of his lightly bleeding head as he seethed a response of “Just dandy,” slapped a hand over her outstretched arm, and hoisted himself to his feet. “What happened?”

“We dropped out of hyperspace too soon, I guess the damage to the ship was worse than we thought.”

His response was thick with sarcasm. “You don’t say.”

Trinn accessed the diagnostic panel in the wall to review the extent of the damage and cringed with her whole body. Crosshair bit.

“What is it?”

“Is your suit pressurized?” she shouted from under her helmet.

He gestured that he couldn’t hear over the noise of rocks raining against the hull and wailing instruments in the cabin behind him. She moved close enough to yell in his ear and repeated the question.

“If the cabin loses pressure, you’re done for, trooper! Do you have a vac kit?”

He nodded and slapped his hand against a storage box with his gear in it, locked securely in a cargo slot under his rack.

“Better gear up quick, you might need it in a few minutes!”

There was an excitement in her tone that made him feel old. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” he quipped back with a tired look.

“A few times! You haven’t?” she questioned as she rounded the corner. “I thought you ninety-nines were the baddest of the bunch! I’m sure you’ve seen worse!”

“That’s not what I’m-!” he growled after her as the ship again shifted under his feet. Cross lurched hard with the movement, but this time caught himself. “Can’t you keep it steady!?” he roared into the cockpit.

“As a matter of fact, we can’t,” Tech answered bitterly as he pulled his own helmet on, “so just suit up, and shut up.”

“Everyone brace for high-G!”

Cross, Mal, and Trinn dropped flat on the floor in anticipation, Tech flattened his back against the jumpseat. Reina cut the engines, flipped, and burned in an attempt to slow their momentum. The maneuver forced the air out of their lungs, their vision clouded with stars, until a few seconds later when the pressure let up. The three passengers gasped for air, as the pilots continued to adjust.

“Course correction was successful, we’ve almost lost aft control. Two minutes, forty-six seconds to impact,” Tech relayed between maneuvers.

“We need to find someplace to set down!” Reina insisted as they scanned the rings for an alternative landing zone.

“If we don’t reduce pressure in the lines, we’ll be dead long before we can crash-land.”

“Open the exhaust valves, see if you can flush it out,” they replied, hands gripping the yoke white-knuckle tight while pulling to the left.

Tech tapped several buttons to his right on the console, and the engine sputtered in relief. “That seems to have worked, but it won’t last long.”

“Just watch the gauge and keep flushing it, and get me better control over the port-side pitch!”

“On it- rerouting power from aft to port.”

Trinn and Mal opened an armory alcove catty-cornered to the main cabin, grabbed their jetpacks off the mount, and slotted their gear into place. Their helmets clicked with a soft hiss as the pressure stabilized in the vac-suits. Cross had just finished affixing his armor and managed to re-connect the life-support pack to his suit when Trinn rounded the corner and fitted an extra jet-pack to his back.

“You ever use one of these before?”

“I’ve trained with them,” he drawled as she affixed a control pad to his gauntlet.

“Ah! So this’ll be just like ridin’ a speeder bike!” she laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

His lip curled as he slipped on his helmet and locked it in place. “If the speeder was hurtling through space at sub-light and about to explode in a burning scrap-heap.”

“Right!?” Trinn sputtered with a manic laugh. “It’ll be fun!”

His hand shot out to grip the overhead rail as a strong directional shift rocked the cabin, launching unsecured supplies across the room. The groaning of metal followed by a low boom preceded the activation of the cockpit ray-shield between the cabin and the cockpit, as the atmosphere rushed out a new crack in the wall. Cross grimaced and his stomach flipped as the ship rolled, once, twice, three times.

“Yeah, fun.”

“Teeeech, what was that?”

“Well you did say you wanted more control over the port-side pitch-” he joked.

“That wasn’t control, that was catastrophe!” Reina cried as they overcorrected their way out of the wild spin. Tech skimmed through the diagnostics as fast as he could, but his mouth turned down in disapproval when he spotted the problem.

“Structural integrity of the transverse axis is at twenty three percent. We’ve lost the starboard engine.”

“What about the inertial compensators?”

“Still holding, but I do not know for how much longer.”

“Straighten us out,” they ordered as they input a set of new coordinates into the navigation system, “We’re setting down in what’s left of Viszla Keep 09.”

“Dank Farrik, are you crazy!?” Mal barked over the comm channel. “That was a Death Watch stronghold for years! Maker knows who’s still lurking in those halls! It could be crawling with Crimson Dawn!”

“Well, what other choice do we have!?” Reina snapped back. “If I can’t put this ship down somewhere, we’re going to die, and we can’t well land on the deepdock!”

“One minute, thirty-six seconds,” Tech interjected amidst their arguing.

“Aim for Phelbos, it’s safer!”

“It’s too far, we’ll never make it!”

“Oh no.”

The concern in his voice was so soft they almost missed it. Reina’s head snapped around to regard the dawning look of dread on Tech’s face as he frantically jabbed at the exhaust purge buttons, which screamed and blinked back at him with no response. The pressure gauge was in the red, there wasn’t much time left.

“Tech?”

He smashed a closed fist into the switch with a frustrated curse as the plastic button cracked. “I can’t purge the lines, the exhaust vents must have been damaged when the engine blew…”

Reina felt sick. They never thought they’d be here again, staring down the end of the tunnel, the lives of their comrades hanging in the balance of their next call… but such was the life of a rebel pilot. They’d chosen this path knowing the risks, it just wasn’t fair that the odds hadn’t rolled in their favor.

“Dump the fuel.”

Tech’s eyes blew wide as he shot them a harrowing look. “If we dump it now, the release of pressure will blow back into the fuel lines and tear this ship apart!”

“But they’ll survive,” they stated, resigned but steadfast in their decision. It was clear by the look in their eyes: they knew what they had to do, there wasn’t another option. “I’ve done the math- it’s our best chance, I’m sure of it.”

Tech ran the math, double and triple checked, desperately searching for another last-second option. They weren’t wrong, it was the crew’s best chance for survival, despite a grim outlook for their own. “According to my calculations, we have an eighty-seven percent chance of-”

“Just do it,” they snapped before he could talk them out of it.

“Are you sure?”

“YES, now hit it!”

For a moment everything stopped, and he was back on Eriadu… hanging from the railcar by a thread, out of options, and processing the very real probability of his death. Was he really having to do this again…? Plan 99 should have been a one-and-done, he was lucky enough to have survived the first time, so to tempt fate now was a reckless gambit. But if they didn’t, they’d all die.

Tech felt the weight of the realization hit his chest like a proton bomb and snap him back into reality as the pressure alarm reached its limit, and the proximity alarm joined in harmony.

He turned around in his seat and gave the other three a calm look of acceptance that was unmistakable in the way it made Cross’ blood run cold. He wouldn’t do it again… “Tech…?”

“Hold onto something.”

Crosshair’s eyes blew open, and he shook his head in threatening disbelief. “Ohhh, no no no, you karking di’kut, don’t you-”

Tech’s fist slammed down into the fuel release switch before he could finish. There was a loud series of pops, a forward lurch, then sudden, violent decompression behind them.

Cross felt a hand around his arm as he, Mal, and Trinn were sucked into the vacuum, spinning wildly out of control. His head knocked hard against an asteroid, wrenching a disdainful cry from him over their internal comms. All he could hear for a full ten seconds was his own labored breathing, all he could see was a stream of starlight… and then the spinning stopped. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Trinn’s helmet, her hands waving wildly to get his attention, and the pilot’s nest of the Trespass hurtling toward the open docking bay of Viszla Outpost 09, with nothing to slow them down.

[shadestepping]

You’re godsdamned right he’s alive and well 😤

Have a paint-over of Trespass Fives, on this lovely Fives Friday.

(Yes, this used to be my icon, and yes, it is my paint-over)

Ik you love fives a lot so I propose the idea of Fives Friday

Ahahahaha you're totally fine. I'm always here for Fives Friday :') Because he's alive and well and we shall celebrate him

[shadestepping]

The Bad Batch: Trespass- “A Statistical Loss”, pt. 7

Word count: 2,282 Characters: Tech, Hunter, Echo, Fives, Reina Darr (original), Noei Darr (original), Fae-Rao Viszla (original) Date: Early-Mid 16 BBY Tech and Noei console Reina in their grief and promise to find a cure for their vision loss, while Fae-Rao deliberates over whether or not she should use the Force to speed along the process. Part 1: [ link ] -- Part 2: [ link ] -- Part 3: [ link ] -- Part 4: [ link ] -- Part 5: [ link ] -- Part 6: [ link ] -- Part 7: (you are here)

Archive Link: [ Ao3 ]

Their reaction to the prognosis was harder to endure than previously quantified with the data he possessed.

Despite his expectations, the one thing he couldn’t account for was the degree of emotional dysregulation from his concussion exacerbating his own response. He had seen grief like this in the eyes of displaced civilians and retired veterans, but he had never held it in his arms, never felt it deconstruct a soul as he did when Reina reached around his body with their good arm and clawed at the fabric over his back. Tension rippled through their shoulders, despondent sobbing rattled their chest, the mass expulsion of melancholic energy permeated to his very core… the true weight of it was inescapable. ‘Crushing’ turned out to be his greatest understatement in recent memory.

It was unclear how much time passed as he waited for them to speak again. Tech was too busy mentally cataloging every last micro-expression of their manifested grief, processing his emotional reactions, and filing the information away for future insight to pay it any mind; but he did notice when the shaking started to subside.

“How… how did… this happen?” Reina struggled to ask.

“Retinal detachment from mass deceleration,” he replied, calm and rehearsed.

Silence took them as they searched for reason in this explanation. “But… my retinas partially detached in the last crash… can’t that be repaired?”

Tech drew in a shaky breath and swallowed hard, his eyelids fluttered threateningly. “It could… if there wasn’t also damage to the macula.”

Reina’s brows crinkled. “What… what does that mean, I don’t-…”

“The macula is the part of the retina at the back of the eye, about five millimeters in diameter, responsible for processing central vision, color, and fine detail-“

“Tech…” Reina gently interrupted before he could get too carried away with defining, rather than explaining. “I appreciate your knowledge… but what does that mean?”

Tech exhaled a quiet puff through his nose. He was avoiding a direct answer and they knew it. He knew it. “It is… not something that can be fixed, dral kar’ta…” he admitted, tone dropping with the term of endearment he rarely used. “… at least, not with any known treatment. It is too small and too delicate to operate on.”

The tremors in their chest started up anew.

“Noei says the previous retinal detachment likely contributed to the extent of the damage this time. I am afraid, it was just bad luck… like everything else.”

The information didn’t help to slow their spiral; if anything, it made it worse. A low cry forced its way out of their lungs on a frequency that was uncomfortable to his ears. He cringed at the itch it triggered behind his eyes but tightened his grip and tucked his chin over the top of their head as their back curled forward. “I’m sorry Reina…” he whispered, throat quivering, stomach gnarled, and heart heavy with empathy. “I’m oh, so sorry…”

Tech jumped and turned halfway around as Doctor Darr burst into the room behind him moments later, anticipating the worst. Noei’s disheveled appearance greeted him with bruised, sleep-deprived eyes, unbrushed hair, freckles bleeding through smudged makeup, and clothes now three days old. Her blue-green gaze stared through him at her sister, as if she had been ripped from one nightmare and thrown into another. He’d been so fixated on his research he’d forgotten to check on her to make sure she was as okay as she’d seemed, so he hadn’t realized just how exhausted she was until she was standing five feet away from him. For a moment he was ashamed, because Doctor Darr was, after all, a good friend and confidante, regardless of his irritation with her.

Despite her emotional reservations for the last few days, hearing Reina’s cries unearthed instincts long-buried and set her back on auto-pilot. Noei wordlessly crossed the room and climbed up into the bed next to Reina, tucked Lula into the crook of their slung arm, and wedged a cold bottle of water into their right hand. Tech had had enough extensive academic talks with Noei in the past about how to care for psychological and emotional trauma to know that these were grounding techniques, but he hadn’t yet had the opportunity to put the practical application to use.

Without prompt, he fell into step with her efforts. Tech tapped Reina on the back of the head with two firm, two-fingered taps, and felt the trembling in their core weaken. This was a tactile reminder Noei had established to remind them to take pause and recalibrate their focus, that he and Reina had worked into their routines. They normally used it to alert each other when they were hyper-fixating and hadn’t eaten, slept, or taken a break in too long, but he was relieved to see it had the same effect when they were spiraling.

Reina clutched Lula tight against their chest and took in a deep, calming breath, while Noei counted out loud in sets: inhale for five, hold for seven, and exhale for eight. Each time they exhaled, their symptoms dissipated a little more. Tech felt the vibrations in their shoulders cease about five minutes later and loosened his hold on them once the sobbing subsided.

“Reina…?” he called in as soft a tone as he could, though they just burrowed further into his embrace, wishing to disappear. They still weren’t ready to continue the conversation. He repressed the anxious strain in his occipitals with a deep breath in and exhaled slow and even as Noei followed up.

“Reina, listen to me,” she coaxed in a motherly tone, one hand on her shoulder.

This time they lifted their head and turned halfway toward her, and Tech finally saw Noei’s composure crack. Her head dropped, her lip quivered, and the corners of her eyes wrinkled. Maker, how had he been so blind to her pain? She’d been struggling with her grief, same as he.

“There’s no way we’re going to let you lose your purpose to this.”

Every negative thought plaguing him for the last three days evaporated the moment the words left her mouth. Finally, they were on the same page.

“No,” he agreed, more emphatic than intended. “It does not matter how long it takes, we will find a solution.”

Reina’s grip on him relaxed, though when coupled with the question that followed, it felt more like disappointment. “How can you be so sure…?”

Tech paused before answering and lifted his gaze to look Noei in the eye. “Because, my dear,” he affirmed with a blooming, confident grin, “Your recovery is in the hands of the two most brilliant minds in the universe.”

Although she still doubted their ability to guarantee complete recovery, Noei returned his sentiment with a reserved smile and a determined nod.

“You will fly again- of that, I am certain.”

From the communications room three doors down, Hunter’s attention piqued. The two Night Watch rebels missed his brown eyes lift from the holo-table to focus with deliberate intent on what appeared to be a blank wall, but Echo knew better than to dismiss his tells. He’d heard something.

“What is it?”

Hunter set his jaw, sighed, and grunted a short reply. “Reina’s awake.”

Echo’s expression softened and he tossed a worried glance at Fae-Rao as she read between the lines of Hunter’s verbal and non-verbal cues.

“I take it Tech broke the news…?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer by the flattening of his tone and the tilted grimace in his cheek.

Hunter nodded crookedly, swiped around the data he’d been examining, and stowed it for the time being. “Yeah… and they’re not taking it well.”

“Understandably so,” Fae mused with quiet reservation, violet eyes staring unfocused before her. “I’ve been friends with Reina for four years- flying is their life. They’d rather die than hear that truth.”

“That’s a bit extreme,” Echo commented absently.

“You try telling a bird it will never fly again,” she huffed as she closed the data hologram and stepped away from the table. “Reina’s already had to fight tooth and nail to put themself back together once before- imagine how exhausted you would be to have to endure your trauma for a second time, and lose more of yourself than you already have…”

He let out a heavy-hearted sigh, then cast his gaze to the floor before circling back to the elephant in the room. “Have you given any further thought to my suggestion?”

The balosar inhaled and lowered a dejected gaze as she leaned over the back of his chair. “I don’t know if it can be done, Echo…” she answered truthfully after a pause. “As much as I want to be able to help my friend, I was never trained to be a healer, and I wouldn’t want to accidentally make things worse.”

“Well… t’be fair,” Fives chimed in from her right, “I don’think a total loss of sight could really ‘get any worse’.”

Fae shifted her gaze like a silent prayer. “Force, how I wish that were true...”

Fives tilted his head and furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“The kind of precision needed to restore such a small part of the body requires intricate knowledge I do not possess,” she reasoned. “If I make even the slightest mistake, if or when Tech and Noei do find a solution… it could set back their recovery by months, years... maybe even indefinitely.”

Echo's gaze hardened, and Fae-Rao’s eyes fell shut with the weight of his screaming thoughts. She didn’t have to look him in the eye to know what he was thinking: “If it were me, I’d want that option.” Yes, she wanted to do her part to help, if possible, but she also did not want to bear the burden of responsibility if she failed spectacularly. It was selfish, but Reina was a dear friend, and she didn’t want to lose them to resentment.

“But… shouldn’t you at least try? I mean… isn’t it worth it to offer?”

Fae-Rao placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You know I’d heal everyone if I could, but that’s just not how the Force works. It’s not a mystical cure-all, and it takes special skill to wield with medical precision.”

Echo’s lips drew thin in grim understanding. His hand lifted and settled over hers and he turned to lean his forehead against her forearm.

“I know you empathize with their plight… and I want to help, but this makes me uncomfortable.”

“She’s right, Ech,” Hunter echoed in agreement. “You can’t ask someone t’perform surgery when they’re not a surgeon- Jedi or not.”

“Why don’t you leave the decision up to Reina?”

Fives’ neutral suggestion gave a much-needed pause to the weight of the conversation. Neither of them was inherently wrong in their logic. Echo was right- that to try and fail was better than to not try at all, but Fae-Rao’s discomfort was also valid and not to be discounted. However, the decision wasn’t theirs to make, and there was no point in fighting over whether or not they should when the question was if they could.

Neither objected to his reasoning. Echo seemed pleased with the compromise but Fae’s expression remained troubled. Echo had missed it, but Fives had been by her side long enough to know even the slightest nuance in her expressions and body language. She was deeply conflicted over this matter.

Hunter could sense that something was amiss. His eyes shifted between Commander Vizsla and Echo for a few moments before he moved away from the communication center toward the door, and tossed a casual order over his shoulder.

“We’ll take a break and reconvene at 21:00. Echo, with me- Crosshair and the Kryze girls’ll be back soon, an’they’ll need our help.”

Echo stood with a quiet “Sir” and glanced down at Fae-Rao as she took back her hand, crossed her arms, and averted his eyes. He flexed his jaw as he stared into the pattern of her silver fishbone braids, wounded by her sudden cold-shoulder, and sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’wanna pressure you,” he breathed. “Just… do what you think is right.”

Her composure wavered as he left the room, but Fives interjected before she broke. “Don’mind him…” he reassured, jerking a thumb in the direction of Echo and Hunter. “He trusts your judgment, even if he kin’ be a stubborn sheb.”

His teasing earned a quiet laugh as she relaxed, her expression somber. “I… would like some time to meditate with the Force, before I talk to Reina.”

“I’ll keep watch,” Fives nodded toward the door, but before he could step away, she caught his hand in hers. He froze at her touch and tossed a questioning glance over his shoulder.

“Would you, please… sit with me? It’s been so long since I’ve been able to commune with anyone-”

“Of course,” he replied before she could even finish. “Whatever you need, I’m at your service.”

dral kar'ta = "bright heart"

** Special thanks to @hazardous-studios for being my point of reference for the proper terminology and treatment of macula-off retinal detachment!

World-building

Commander Fae-Rao Viszla: Having left the Jedi order halfway through the Clone Wars, Fae-Rao returned to the fight at Ahsoka’s behest to assist in the Siege of Mandalore against Maul and the Crimson Dawn, and reclaimed her birthright as Tarre Viszla’s successor in name only.

Following the Imperial Reformation of Mandalore, the people of Mandalore divided in their loyalties- in opposition of Imperial Occupation, a Resistance of Freedom Fighters calling themselves The Night Watch emerged, hailing “Viszla Reborn” as their Champion. In response to her people’s outcry, Fae-Rao accepted her role as protector of a true, free Mandalore, and united the scattered rebels under one banner. For several years following the end of the Clone Wars, she led tactical strikes and rescue missions against the empire, saving the lives of millions of Mandalorians.

The Night Watch: The name for the Mandalorian Resistance against the Empire, after the Imperial Reformation of Mandalore, which consisted of Bo-Katan Kryze and her Night Owls, the Protectors, what would eventually become known as “the Clan”, and most of House Viszla. This Resistance was led by a former Jedi Padawan named Fae-Rao Viszla —the first Mandalorian to enter the order since Tarre Viszla— and was aided by a group of non-Mandalorians and clone deserters, who sympathized with the plight of Mandalore. Commander Reina Darr: former Combat Transport Pilot of the Republic Navy (before the Clone Wars) who was discharged after a bad crash in which they lost both of their legs from the thigh-down. After their discharge, Darr continued flying a modified light freighter known as the Trespass for a smuggling operation based out of the Coruscant lower levels, which specialized in relocating anyone trying to escape dangerous situations and start a new life. Following the Imperial Reformation of the Republic into the Galactic Empire, Darr and their crew fled Coruscant to base their operation out of Ord Mantell, but joined the Night Watch at the request of Fae-Rao. For a little over two years, Darr Commanded a small Airborne Fleet, running tactical strikes against the Empire and evacuating non-compliant Civilians off-planet to the care of the Protectors on the third moon of Concord Dawn.

[shadestepping]

Character paint-overs for my Star Wars fic, The Bad Batch: Trespass.

Top Row: Fives, Fae-Rao Vizsla

Middle row: Commander Reina Darr (left), Doctor Noei Darr (right)

Bottom row: Mal Kryze (left), Trinn Kryze (middle), Hale Saxon (right)

[shadestepping]

The Bad Batch: Trespass -- Character Building

Some of you have been asking to know more about the Trespass crew, so I wanted to share some tidbits about their working relationships with the members of The Bad Batch!

This was from a post I made a while back but forgot to put read-mores on. I wanted to make it more dashboard-friendly before sharing again.

Mal Kryze

Mal and Hunter are both fiercely protective of their kid siblings, and she can relate to him being a stressed dad™ because she went through a lot of the same things with Trinn. She offers him a lot of advice on how to deal with Omega when she’s being difficult or when he’s just not understanding what she needs. They spar a lot, and have a lot of conversations about knives.

Mal adores Omega almost as much as she adores how much she looks up to her little sister. Trinn is not the best role model, but to Omega she is just so damn cool and she wants to be just like her. Omega asks for a braid in her hair, steals Hunter’s headbands and sunglasses, and finger-gun poses in front of the mirror when she thinks no one is looking. But Mal is always looking, so is Hunter.

Mal intimidates Wrecker in a way that amuses the hell out of him because even though she’s shorter and much, much smaller, she can still throw him like a ragdoll and he doesn’t understand how that’s even possible. Every time they see each other, his greeting is to charge and try to put her on her ass but he hasn’t succeeded in the two years since they've met.

Mal isn’t very social, but she loves animals. She has a very large Massiff named Dala, who takes an immediate liking to Clone Force 99.

She is absolute putty in Hunter’s hands, so gentle and sweet, she follows him around because he just exudes Alpha energy and he gives the best scratches. She has to always be touching him or she isn’t happy.

Echo gives the best cuddles- she can tell when his heart is aching and she will either put her paws over his shoulders, lay on his chest, or set her chin in his lap and wait for a hug. She helps get him through the long absences of Fives and Fae-Rao, and comforts him when he's having a bad trauma day.

Wrecker is her absolute favorite playmate- he takes her on walks and runs, they wrestle constantly. If she’s not sleeping on Echo at night, she’s snuggled up to Wrecker; he has one arm around Lula, and the other around Dala.

Tech is so aloof, she’s afraid someone is going to attack in the middle of his work. She’ll lay at his feet and keep watch, every once in a while he’ll reach down and stroke her ribs with a “Thank you Dala, good girl,” and it makes her incomprehensibly happy.

She immediately goes into mom mode around Omega. This tiny human is so precious to her, she protects her with her very life. No stranger gets within ten feet of her without a very serious warning snarl, but if Omega tells her it’s alright, she immediately backs off. She will only leave her side if Hunter or one of the boys is present to watch her.

Crosshair is her hunting partner- Mal has her very well trained to follow commands in Mando’a, which she teaches to Cross. If he’s on a mission with the Kryze sisters, Dala is at his command. If she’s not keeping an eye on his perch, she’s flushing out targets. She is the only one Crosshair will give compliments to, and he spoils her with treats and pets when she does a good job.

Trinn Kryze

Wrecker and Trinn are best buds who share all of two, maybe three brain cells between them and it’s to inflict as much targeted destruction as possible, laugh in the face of any and all danger, and make Crosshair feel like someone actually gives a damn about him. Omega often helps with the last one, and Crosshair cannot stand this. One of them was bad enough, but three…?? Gross.

Trinn has a very easygoing personality and is very good at shrugging off Crosshair’s harsh criticisms and throwing him off-guard. She flirts as easily as she breathes, calling him nicknames like sunshine and soldier-boy in an attempt to lift his constant brood. It makes him extremely uncomfortable, but she reminds him of Wrecker in so many ways (loyal as hell and would never leave him behind) and maker knows Crosshair needs more people like that in his life. Plus, she is teaching his dumbass brother the finer points of patience and volume control so he can’t really complain.

Trinn once out-shot Crosshair and he didn’t speak to her for a week until he won in a rematch. He went right back to being his snide, condescending self and never realized that she let him win. She keeps the true extent of her skill in her back pocket to preserve his ego, waiting for the right opportunity to remind him of it, but she doesn’t have to. He thinks about it constantly and secretly admires her for it.

Her self-deprecating sense of humor is an entirely new concept to Crosshair. He’s not used to people agreeing with or laughing off his insults, so when she defuses them he doesn’t usually have a comeback ready. The more often they work together, the more he gets the hang of the mean-but-friendly banter, and it lightens his moods. The idea that someone so exceptional would degrade themselves while still retaining their self-worth is amusing to him. He picks this up after a while, it becomes their secret code of affection to trash talk each other incessantly. The Batch thinks they’re insane and they’re right about that.

Doctor Noei Darr

Echo just fawns over Noei because she helped Fae-Rao save Fives’ life. She’s also just so nice, like- incredibly nice, and oh gosh just so pretty! He could listen to her talk for hours about her work even if he can’t understand the science of it. She taught him the basics of botany and now he keeps a few small plants in the Marauder, because nuturing something that can thrive in even the darkest conditions is therapeutic to him.

Noei offers to research how to get some of the augmentations out of his body and regrow the bone and organs damaged by them so he could feel more like his old self. Tech works with Reina to make a prosthetic for his scomp arm, they all just want to help him however they can.

As a Doctor, Noei is also well versed in Psychology and is used to playing therapist for the Trespass crew when asked. This used to be Tech’s role with the batch, but he was too good at disconnecting himself from his brothers’ emotions and often came off as condescending even if his intentions were genuine because he had all the answers but not the empathy. With Noei’s help, he realizes the importance of validating a person’s emotions when appropriate. This emotional growth helps him better diffuse tension among his brothers while still remaining the neutral party.

Commander Reina Darr

Tech and Noei have a lot to talk about scientifically, but he vibes more with Reina because they’re very tech-savvy and they’re an incredible pilot. Tech knows his way around the Maurader, but Reina behind the yoke of the Trespass is ballsy AF and they cut some of the most flawless, complicated maneuvers he’s ever seen, like it’s second nature. He’d fly co-pilot to them anytime.

The first time they met, they were making adjustments to their prosthetic legs and Tech didn’t balk in the slightest. They’ve always appreciated his pragmatism and effortless tact, and genuinely enjoy his company. Tech shares this sentiment.

Reina has a tendency to hyper-fixate on her work, so Noei gives them tactile reminders to stop what they’re doing periodically and take their meds / eat something / drink some water / go to bed / do anything to take care of themself- a series of taps on their shoulder, their forearm, their hand, their head, etc. works like an alarm but better. Tech notices Noei doing this for them and Reina’s response and starts giving them the same tactile reminders when they are unhealthily fixating. Reina does this for Tech as well. They help manage each other’s hyper-fixations.

Although their traumas are long past by the time they meet, Reina and Echo bond over their shared loss and become Physical Therapy buddies. When Reina loses their vision, Echo makes sure they still get their workouts in, so they don’t just sit around and mope.

Commander Fae-Rao Viszla

Echo knows Fae-Rao has eyes for Fives (and Fives for her) but he still refers to her as cyar’ika and mesh’la. Since they both adore him (and both are stubborn about coming right out and confessing to each other), Echo sneaks gentle platonic affection (hugs, smooches, hand-holding) whenever he can, hoping to incite his brother to stop being such a weenie about his feelings. Fae-Rao reciprocates because it makes him happy, and Fives eventually follows suit. Cuddle piles are frequent when these three are together (which is sadly, very rare). Everyone gets to feel loved.

Omega is absolutely SMITTEN with Fae-Rao, as she is the first Jedi she has ever truly been able to interact with. Hunter has to really struggle to keep her in-line and out of her hair so she's not constantly bombarding her with questions and requests to show her cool tricks, but Fae doesn't mind in the least. She patiently entertains her every whim and teaches her everything she wishes to know, including how to use her lightsaber.

For the most part, Fae-Rao has a very superficial relationship with the other members of Clone Force 99, mainly due to her role as Commander of the Night Watch- however, that doesn't stop her from understanding and appreciating each and every one of them. She works most frequently with Hunter to make requests for, or exchange intel. As commanders of their respective units, they share a mutual respect for each other and often commiserate over the difficulties of life in command.

Crosshair's transition into the Night Watch was rocky for most part, but being both Balosar and Jedi, Fae-Rao sensed his internal struggle the moment they met. Against the better judgment of most of her advisors, Fae entrusted his integration with Mal and Trinn, which provided him with the outlet he needed to fulfill his need for purpose, and eventually, reconciliation with his brothers.

And one small bit of quick scene-scripting because Echo, Fae-Rao, and Fives' whole relationship makes me soft.

When Echo meets Fae-Rao on Saleucami for the first time, he can tell his brother is more attached than he lets on. Behind the facade of loyalty to the one who went out of her way to save his life and clear his name, there’s devotion- and it looks good on him. Echo calls it with all the delicacy of a hammer on glass.

“I really like your girlfriend. She seems nice.” Fives sputters an off-guard wheeze and doubles over, arm still around his shoulder, and grips him in a headlock. “She’s not my-“ Echo lets out a boisterous, strangled laugh as he tries to escape. “If you don’t marry her, I will.” “An ugly di’kut like you? Please…” “We have the same face!” “I’m still better looking!” “Ah ha! So-” He prods again, Fives wrestles him to the ground, Echo whining about how it isn’t fair because he only has one good arm. Fae-Rao comes out to see what the ruckus is about. “You two… okay?” They freeze in alarm, caught in their shenanigans. Echo speaks first, just to get a rise out of Fives, and confesses as breathlessly as he can, “Maker, you are beautiful… has Fives ever told you that?” She blinks hard, then bursts out laughing. Fives gives him a good slap and pushes him away as she bends down to help Echo up with her good arm. “Your brother is charming, Fives…” Echo blushes and his face lights up as she plants a soft kiss on his cheek, he flashes a beaming grin over at Fives. “Y’hear that…? CHARMING.” Fives smirks back and rolls his eyes to hide his jealousy as he pushes himself up out of the dirt. Echo leaves when Tech calls for Echo’s help in the Marauder but halfway there he turns and trots backward, triumphantly mouthing the words I’M CHARMING!! before he disappears into the ship. Fives chuckles and crosses his arms. “I think you just made his day.” She smiles warmly. “I can see why you love him so much- your heart swells in his presence, he brings out the child in you.”

Before they part ways, Echo makes sure to embarrass the hell out of him again (like any true brother would) before they say goodbye. Fives expresses that he hopes that they’ll see each other again, Echo laughs lightheartedly in response as he hangs out the hovering ship’s ramp and replies, “Well we’re gonna have to! How else am I gonna steal your girl?” Snorting, snickering, and laughing erupt from inside the Marauder at the way he shamelessly belts it out for everyone to hear. Fae-Rao blushes, hides her face in her hands, and shakes her head with a smile. Fives swears he is going to die of embarrassment, but instead he grins. This is how he wants to remember him.

[shadestepping]

Thanks for the tag boo! 💕 I don’t even have five full fics published yet for Star Wars, so I’ll throw in some Destiny fics too.

Fireteam Daybreak -- Thanatonaut: The Deep Stone Crypt - Laila takes a trip through memories long forgotten to find herself again, but to do so she must first experience death.

The Bad Batch: Trespass - Crossroads - While waiting to be found on Kamino, Crosshair recounts his struggle against his inhibitor chip, and rationalizes his decision to say behind.

The Bad Batch: Trespass - A Statistical Loss - The Trespass crash-lands in Viszla Keep 09 —in the rings of Phelbos— following a dogfight with the Empire. The crew must survive in deep space long enough for the Marauder to arrive, then navigate the trauma of a near-death experience and loss of purpose. Spurred on by unfamiliar emotion, Tech makes it his mission to find a a way to cure Reina’s injury, and helps them build a new Trespass during their long recovery.

DBH: Illuminate - Hit and Run - Axl spots a trine of RK800's entering Detroit on a bus inbound from outside the city. Kate moves to tail them with the intention of finding out why they're there, but is spotted by Connor's doppelganger and forced to do something she regrets in order to escape.

Fireteam Daybreak -- Discharge - Laila has agreed to teach Nikel the basics of Bladedancing, but when Cayde butts in and runs his mouth, she issues a challenge.

All of the people I would have tagged for this have already been tagged so if you see this and would like to participate, please tag me back!

In the 3 months that I’ve been writing SW fanfics, I’ve put out 25+ fics and almost 20 blurbs. Which is probably not a whole lot to some but I’m proud of this and consider it an accomplishment.

Here are my five favorites that I’ve put out:

1. On the Crate (Rebels!Rex x Reader)

2. Killshot (Imperial!Crosshair x Imperial!Reader)

3. Sharing is Caring (Polybatch x Reader)

4. Positions (Rex x Reader x Cody)

5. Bonsoir (Gregor x OC!Cassia)

I’m going to tag some people to put put up to five of their favorite fics/blurbs that they’ve put out.

NPT: @studioramekin @fandumbug @madameminor @wolveria @moonstrider9904 @neon-junkie @corona-one @twistedstitcher27 @maulslittlemeowmeow @literallydontlook

[shadestepping]

The highlight of this chapter so far is Crosshair handing his water canteen to Tech and Tech just absolutely CHOKING because HOLY SHIT HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN SMUGGLING CORELLIAN BRANDY ON YOUR PERSON AND DOES HUNTER KNOW?? And Cross is like lmao it was his idea

[shadestepping]

Oh, I definitely agree on Tech being aro/ace for sure. That has been my headcanon for him since 2020, and I am glad to see another person writing him with that headcanon in mind - especially since romance or sexual relationships are the norm you see in fiction/published books.

To me, it is sometimes quite frustrating to see people force relationships between characters, as then it almost always feel inorganic - as you stated - or, worse to me, some people believe the only way to have a 'fulfilled life' is to have a romantic partner. So often media does not explore the platonic bonds people can have with others (be they family or friends), even though I believe this is absolutely the form of relationship that needs more exploration/exposure because of that fact. So many people I've talked to do not understand me when I say that I do not want a partner, so I am glad that someone else shares in the idea of Tech being aro/ace, since I believe people can have a fulfilled life with just their family or friends.

"I would like to see that normalized in fiction." Yes, I fully, fully agree with this. Sorry for rambling, I just so rarely see anyone else headcanon Tech as aro/ace, let alone state that they believe that platonic/non-romantic/non-sexual relationships need to be explore more often, so I rambled ahh. And Tech deserves to have a close, emotional connection with someone who understands him and allows him to ramble and feel like his knowledge/self are valued.

As someone who has had several Queerplatonic Partners in their lifetime (in addition to romantic and sexual ones)... this sentiment is really close to my heart.

Don't get me wrong... I am a HOPELESS romantic, I am such a sucker for a good romance, but that's the thing- so many romances are just not well done and often shoehorned for the sake of filling a universally perceived need for romance as part of the human condition.

Platonic love has been so undervalued and heteronormativity so ingrained, most people can't even understand the difference between romantic, sexual, and platonic love when they see two people of the opposite sex interacting (and what's worse, but a little bit of a tangent- they can't even tell when two people of the same sex are romantically attracted to each other). It's compulsive, and it's downright damaging to the hearts of those who do not share that sentiment.

We as writers need to challenge that narrative and put those characters and their stories front-and-center, full stop. Media is the biggest source of influence in our world today, and it is our responsibility to help shape the world that we want to see through our stories. The easiest way to help people better understand perspectives they wouldn't otherwise stop to consider is by showing them.

What's also really important to show though, is how aro and/or ace spec people can still have healthily functioning relationships with people who are not aro or ace. As long as they care for and are willing to take the time to understand and cater to each other's needs through compromise (which is what I'm going for with Tech and Reina), happiness and balance are always within reach.

It hurts my heart that everyone around Tech is always cutting him off or coming down on him for being the way he is, even if it doesn't really get to him. He seems to be getting that much-needed understanding from Omega in canon, which is wonderful! But familial love is different from and supplementary to other forms, so I am happy to be able to provide him that with Reina.

And most of all, I am HUMBLED that you feel validated by my depiction of him. Thank you so much for taking the time to chat with me anon, it helps so much to hear that I'm doing a good job. Thank you for reading <3

[shadestepping]

The Bad Batch: Trespass- “A Statistical Loss”, pt. 6

Word count: 2,072 Characters: Tech, Crosshair, Hunter, Echo, Wrecker, Omega, Reina Darr (original), Noei Darr (original), Fae-Rao Viszla (original)

Date: Early-Mid 16 BBY

When faced with the reality that they may never fly again, Tech refuses to accept that healing is too far out of reach and sets his mind on finding a solution.

Part 1: [ link ] -- Part 2: [ link ] -- Part 3: [ link ] -- Part 4: [ link ] -- Part 5: [ link ] -- Part 6: (you are here) -- Part 7: [ link ]

Archive Link: [ Ao3 ]

It means they may never fly again.

Tech was never one to pass up information when offered, but after the heartbreaking revelation of Reina’s prognosis, he completely tuned out. Every muscle in his body gnarled, anxiety whispering and gnashing like rabid anoobas. This was the worst-case scenario- the only thing that could have possibly been worse than dying, was surviving a second disastrous crash and awakening to the reality that this time, no matter how strong their will to overcome, they would never be able to do the one thing that made them feel whole, ever again.

The situation was much more distressing to him than it was to Noei, and he quietly resented her for the way she communicated facts with such a lack of unease. Was that how he always sounded to his brothers? And how could she be so calm when he was a roiling storm of rage and regret?

His long fingers curled and dug into his thighs, nails snagging on the fabric of his blacks. Sure, Doctor Darr had plenty of experience with delivering bad news to patients, and she had already been through one life-altering accident with her sister, but it shouldn’t have left her immune to grief.

“Isn’t there anything that can be done to repair the damage?” he asked after half a minute of silence.

The good Doctor released a patient sigh and crossed her arms as she back-tracked to what she had just explained. “Once the macula is torn… no, there isn’t anything that can be done to restore vision in full. There are treatments that would help enhance central vision, but they’d still never be able to see with the clarity necessary to pilot a starship-”

“Could a scrip take care of the blurring?” he interrupted before she could finish explaining.

“Their vision will never be perfectly corrected Tech, the trauma is too severe-”

“What about bionics?”

Noei’s shoulders dropped, heavy with melancholy at the desperation seeping into his tone. “Reina would never let anyone near them with something they didn’t build themselves...”

“Bacta injections?”

“Miracle cure that it is, it is a very basic treatment and cannot knit something as delicate as the macula without a lot of time, which is something they simply don’t have. What you’re talking about is as difficult to accomplish as repairing damage to the spinal cord or the brain.”

“Nanodroids?”

“The technology for adapted medical use is limited and hasn’t been perfected for such a delicate operation…”

His eyes unfocused, his brow flattened, and he stared past her. The lines in his forehead deepened and the corners of his eyes crinkled in disbelief. Tech’s hands quivered and rubbed at the pain in his head as an uncomfortable weight pressed down on his chest and shoulders. The soreness in his ribs drew at the air in short chops. Tech’s emotions were usually so well-regulated this wouldn’t even register, but the physical trauma to his brain had left the floodgates unhinged, spilling into what was mostly uncharted territory to him.

After Wrecker’s accident, his brother had had some reservations about his scarring and discolored eye, but not to the extent of the average person. A few rotten regs had made snide comments about the accident, but by and large, the other clones admired him for how much more imposing the scars made him look. Hunter had even tattooed the same side of his face to help him feel less conspicuous. But, the scar was not a complete loss of sight, nor an impediment on his performance in the field. Tech knew what was coming when it was time to deliver the news to Reina, and he wasn’t ready to witness the emotional devastation of them losing their life’s purpose. It would crush him to see them cry.

Tech moved to sit down on the stool next to Reina’s bed, leaned over his knees on his elbows, and rubbed one hand over a fist in front of his mouth. His leg bounced like a jackhammer as he watched the rhythmic rise and fall of their chest. They had to have missed something, this just couldn’t be the final answer. It was unacceptable, and he would not allow it.

“Surely, we could make it work… right?” There was decisive confidence in his posture as his eyes snapped up to meet her gaze.

“… with time and dedication… perhaps,” she answered, careful not to make any promises they wouldn’t be able to keep.

“No,” he shook his head and looked back at the sleeping pilot, unsatisfied with her answer. “We will find a way. We must.”

“Tech…”

He tensed as Doctor Darr placed a soft hand on his shoulder, until she gave it a good squeeze. His head dropped and leaned against the edge of the bed with a strangled cry.

“They’ve been through enough, Noei…” he cracked through his tightly closing throat. “Maker’s sake…”

They can’t lose this too.

Waiting for Reina to wake up was its own unique brand of torture, even without the added dread of knowing how they’d react to finding out they’d never be able to fly again. For several hours after his conversation with Noei, he sat slumped over the edge of their bed with his head on his forearms, eyes shifting between the instruments and the bandage over Reina’s eyes, while decompressing the state of affairs. He wasn’t used to feeling this helpless… or angry, or scared, or guilty. That there wasn’t even a rational reason for the guilt, which bellowed back into anger and stoked each emotion in turn like a cyclone, until he could no longer sit still.

When next Noei came to check on Reina, Tech had set up a small work-station at the foot of their bed and thrown himself full-force into research on medical-grade nanotechnology and how to program the droids to target and repair injuries. Despite her best efforts to explain that there was time for him to give his mind a rest before diving into creating a solution, Tech declined her invitation to relax, insisting that every second mattered.

In the few days that followed, he hardly slept, and he rarely left their bedside. Any time spent sleeping, relaxing, or doing anything where he couldn’t also research was time wasted and it was impossible to convince him otherwise. Echo tried several times a day to coax him into putting down the holofile for long enough to take a shower or a ten-minute walk, but even his gentle teasing that he was starting to smell up the room only registered enough to elicit an auto-response of “Not now, I’m busy.” He was singularly focused on figuring out this riddle before Reina awoke.

Wrecker wasn't allowed in Noei’s lab as a house rule, but on the second day, while Tech was taking a power nap, he snuck in with Omega and tucked Lula under one of Reina’s arms. Tech woke to a blanket draped over his shoulders, a box of Mantell mix, and a bottle of Elba water on his workstation.

The only time he looked up from his work to pay any mind to his brothers was when Hunter stopped by to let him know that Fae-Rao would be along to pick up the data and wanted him there to brief her on further questions she may have. Tech tried to refuse, but Hunter insisted that it wasn’t a request; to her credit, Fae-Rao took one look at him as he entered the room and told him he didn’t need to be there. This upset Hunter because it was the first time they’d gotten him to leave the lab in two days, but she insisted on his behalf.

“That man is in turmoil and this is his way of reconciling trauma. Let him do what he needs to do.”

Crosshair passed by the room at least five times before he finally got tired of seeing him mope through his work, and leaned in the doorway for a brief chat on the third day.

“You know it wasn’t your fault,” he noted in his usual condescending tone, “So why are you so hell-bent on righting an impossible wrong?”

“Because, Crosshair,” he answered with a sideways flick of his eyes, “Flying is all they have left.”

Cross eyed him with a knowing smirk and shifted the toothpick in his mouth. “That’s not all she has left…”

“Mind their pronouns, vod.”

“Right, they…” he corrected with a snarky chuckle as he rolled his eyes. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“I am only being considerate of how they wish to be perceived.”

“Yes, while they aren’t awake to speak up for themselves,” he noted with a pointed nod.

The implication of what he was saying went right over his head. “It is not hard to swap a plural noun for someone who views themself outside of a gender binary because they ask you to.”

“No,” He crossed his arms, shrugged, and hummed in agreement. “But maybe you’re in deeper than you thought.”

It took a few times of mentally coming back around to the remark and trying to figure out what exactly he'd meant for what he was saying to click. Tech bobbled the holopad in his hand and sputtered on his drink mid-sip when the dawning realization finally kicked him. He had become too attached for his motivations to be based purely out of concern for a colleague, maybe even too much of a friend. Reina was special to him in more ways than anticipated: as a war hero, as a fellow soldier, as his commanding officer, and as his favorite pilot- as an engineer, as a confidante, as his grounding stone, and as his friend.

But what of friendship… was it love? Or maybe familial attachment? Was he hyper-fixating on solving this problem because he couldn’t imagine flying without them? Or was it just because he was told it couldn’t be done?

He set down the holopad and leaned over the side of the bed, pushed up his goggles, and sighed heavily as he pushed his fingers into his aching eyes. Just what he needed, one more unfamiliar emotion to reconcile atop a mountain of others.

The chilling pins-and-needles sensation erupting from a tired hand on the back of his head shot through him like a lightning bolt and filled him with overwhelming relief. He knew their touch before he heard their voice, which was something he could not say of anyone else.

Hey stranger.

And it seemed the same could be said of him for them.

Tech sat up, clasped their hand between both of his, and pressed it to his forehead as hard as he could muster while swallowing a sob. “You’re awake… thank the maker, you’re finally awake…”

“How long have I been out?” they asked, turning their head in the direction of his voice.

He swallowed, smeared a tear out of his eye, and straightened up a little. “It has been three days since the crash. Everyone made it back alive, and the data was successfully delivered to the Night Watch.”

They squeezed his hand, softly at first, but with increasing urgency as he explained. “… have you been here the whole time?”

“Most of the time,” he admitted truthfully, “Hunter managed to drag me out for the meeting, but other than that…”

Reina forced a smile and chuckled under their breath. “I can tell… you smell awful.”

“So I’ve been told, but I wanted to be here when you awoke.”

The urgency in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, and they expressed a fearful look without making eye contact. “… how bad is it?”

His silence said all they needed to know. The way his hands shifted around and squeezed their hand and wrist as if to apologize confirmed their worst fear.

“No… no, no no, no, NO-“

For the first time since they’d met, Reina Darr fell to pieces, but they wouldn't do it alone. Tech stood to embrace them as they curled over their lap, one hand holding their face to his chest, the other wrapped around their shoulders as if to shield them from the world. He held them as they cried and screamed, each wave of grief cutting into him deeper than the last, and felt some small part of him die in sympathy.

He’d find a way to fix this, and no one and no thing would stop him.

** Special thanks to @hazardous-studios for being my point of reference for the proper terminology and treatment of macula-off retinal detachment!

World-building

The Night Watch: The name for the Mandalorian Resistance against the Empire, after the Imperial Reformation of Mandalore, which consisted of Bo-Katan Kryze and her Night Owls, the Protectors, what would eventually become known as “the Clan”, and most of House Viszla.

This Resistance was led by a former Jedi Padawan named Fae-Rao Viszla —the first Mandalorian to enter the order since Tarre Viszla— and was aided by a group of non-Mandalorians and clone deserters, who sympathized with the plight of Mandalore.

Commander Reina Darr: former Combat Transport Pilot of the Republic Navy (before the Clone Wars) who was discharged after a bad crash in which they lost both of their legs from the thigh-down. After their discharge, Darr continued flying a modified light freighter known as the Trespass for a smuggling operation based out of the Coruscant lower levels, which specialized in relocating anyone trying to escape dangerous situations and start a new life.

Following the Imperial Reformation of the Republic into the Galactic Empire, Darr and their crew fled Coruscant to base their operation out of Ord Mantell, but joined the Night Watch at the request of Fae-Rao. For a little over two years, Darr Commanded a small Airborne Fleet, running tactical strikes against the Empire and evacuating non-compliant Civilians off-planet to the care of the Protectors on the third moon of Concord Dawn.