Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If eyes could throw vibroblades, then everyone in that cockpit would’ve been dead the second Hunter closed the door. His senses had only just picked up on Wrecker’s nervous swallowing when Hunter whirled on Crosshair.

“What the hell was that?”

Hunter growled, shoving both hands against Crosshair’s chestplate. The sniper stumbled back, his jaw set, but his brow furrowed in what Hunter could only assume was some kind of guilt. Good.

“You heard what I said.” Crosshair’s usual sneer was still there, but Hunter understood his youngest brother well enough to know that he was conflicted.

For Hunter, that wasn’t nearly enough.

“Yeah, I did. And so did the kid.” Hunter pointed at the door. “The kid that you just sent running out of here, crying, after taking the blame for your immaturity in trying to resolve something that should’ve been done in private with Echo.” Hunter jabbed his finger into Crosshair’s chestplate as he spoke.

Crosshair scoffed. “‘Immaturity’?”

Hunter spat back the same words Crosshair had just uttered. “You heard what I said.”

The sergeant wouldn’t stand down, because Crosshair wasn’t the type that he could stand down against. Not in a situation like this. Hunter had learned that early on with Crosshair, and now that this poor child had gotten caught in the sniper’s crossfire, Hunter was even less relenting than usual.

Hunter was about to start resolving things with Crosshair the way he most often had to, which likely would have resulted in some harmless bloodshed between the two of them, when Echo stepped in and set a hand on Hunter’s shoulder.

“Easy, Sarge.” Echo tapped Hunter’s pauldron and narrowed his eyes at Crosshair. “This is my fight to pick, not yours.”

“That’s not true.” Hunter turned on Echo this time and leveled him with a fierce look. “I’m the one who’s responsible for this squad, and right now, that includes the kid. Your little argument just looped the kid into all this, which means it now falls under my jurisdiction.”

Hunter’s gaze flickered between Crosshair and Echo. Both their heads lowered in shame.

“So, here’s what we’re gonna do.”

Hunter took Echo by the shoulder first, forcing him back towards the pilot’s chair and pushing him down into it. Echo let himself go willingly, though he held his arm and his scomp up in surrender.

“We’re gonna sit here…”

Hunter walked back over to Crosshair, repeating what he’d done to Echo by shoving him into the co-pilot’s seat.

“... until you two have worked out whatever the hell this is.”

Hunter gestured with his hand between the two of them. Echo and Crosshair glanced at one another, leading Echo to shrug at him with an annoyed furrow in his brow.

“You tell me, Crosshair.” Echo frowned and sat back in the chair. “Didn’t even know we had a problem until a few minutes ago.”

Crosshair hissed. “That’s the problem.” He narrowed his eyes at Echo. “You don’t even care enough to see it.”

Echo’s brow shot up. “To see what?”

Crosshair leaned forward in his seat, dangerously close to where Echo was beside him. “That you’re not willing to be honest with us.”

Echo scoffed. “‘Honest’, huh? Is that what it is?” The ARC trooper shook his head. “If you’re looking for an apology for not telling you about my trauma, then you’re not gonna get it.” He crossed his arms and looked away from Crosshair. “Might as well stop trying.”

“Then can I at least know why Tech was more worthy of hearing about it than the rest of us?”

As somber and vulnerable as Crosshair’s words were, they were still delivered with the sniper’s trademark ferocity. Everyone in the cockpit froze, and Hunter didn’t have to strain to hear the way every heartbeat sped up at the words.

The sergeant sighed and palmed his forehead. He almost wished this was just another petty, brotherly squabble, and not something that was making Crosshair more upset than he’d been since the last time they had to visit the longnecks.

“I’m, uh, gonna go check up on the kid,” Wrecker announced to the quiet room. No later did he grant himself access through the cockpit door to step out, just for it to seal itself shut again behind him.

Hunter would have protested Wrecker’s quick exit if he didn’t agree with his brother’s sentiment. He started to kick himself for not sending someone, or even himself, after the kid earlier.

It was a cruel reminder that he and his squad weren’t made for raising children like him.

“In regard to your latest statement, Crosshair,” Tech was the next one to brave the cockpit’s daunting silence, “it was more a matter of convenience than anything else.”

Crosshair gave his eyebrow an unimpressed raise. “‘Convenience’?”

“Or… I suppose I should say ‘chance’,” Tech clarified, setting a hand on his chin to calmly muse—as if he wasn’t holding the emotional weight of the entire squad in every single word he said. “I happened to overhear Echo struggling while on watch one evening, and after extending an invitation for him to formally discuss the matter, he somewhat reluctantly accepted.”

“Yeah.” Echo was rubbing the back of his neck, his paler skin slightly reddened, as he confirmed Tech’s statement. “I, uh, wasn’t doing so good those first few nights after Skako. Thought it might help to talk about it when Tech came ‘round to check up on me.”

Crosshair frowned at that, but Hunter read it as one of concern rather than anger. “You were struggling, and you didn’t tell us?”

Echo’s embarrassment was instantly exchanged for clear frustration as his head snapped in the sniper’s direction. “At the end of the day, Crosshair, we’re troopers. As an ARC, I was specifically trained not to let feelings like that get in the way of my day-to-day life and missions.”

He jabbed his scomp in Crosshair’s direction.

“Would you have wanted to unload that burden onto your brand-new brothers when they were still making up their minds about you?”

Hunter shook his head before he could help it. “Echo, that’s not what we—.”

“Hunter,” Echo held up his organic hand towards Hunter, “save your breath and your pity. Trust me, I don’t need it.”

Hunter’s jaw snapped shut. Ignoring the screaming urge within him to reassure Echo was as difficult as blocking out the galaxy’s strongest waves of electromagnetic interference, but the truth of Echo’s words managed to conquer it. Unfortunately, he was right; it had taken Hunter and his brothers a bit of time to truly accept Echo as one of their own. Clearly, Crosshair hadn’t even crossed that line, yet.

Echo turned his attention back to the sniper. “You wanna know what it was like?”

Echo stood from his chair, his face hardened. The sudden movement made Hunter take a surprised step back from where he stood in between the two of them.

“Look around this room, and imagine that every single one of these men, your brothers, died, except for you.”

Hunter had to close his eyes at the mere thought of it. He squeezed them tight enough to make his temples throb.

“And one of ‘em died without you even being there to watch their back.”

Echo paused, and the weight that sat between his words and the rest of the cockpit was heavier than anything even Wrecker could ever carry.

“Would you wanna tell your brand-new squad about how they all got picked off one-by-one?”

The silence that followed was so thick that Hunter could nearly sense it the way he could with just about anything tangible. When Hunter reopened his eyes, he could see that even Tech was motionless and utterly speechless, not bothering to adjust the goggles that had no doubt started to slip down his nose from the way his head was tucked down towards the floor. Crosshair’s expression remained tight, but his sagging posture admitted defeat.

Echo took a deep, steadying breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he reopened them. “It’s something I hope none of you ever have to experience.” He peered down at Crosshair again. “But I hope you can at least understand now why this isn’t the kind of topic I can just converse about over a cup of caf.”

Echo eased himself back down into his seat. Hunter spared another look at Tech, who was finally pushing his goggles up the bridge of his nose with a practiced finger. Crosshair slightly adjusted his posture, sitting up straighter—though his arms remained crossed over his chest. Hunter allowed himself to take a steady breath just as Echo had done while the ARC trooper continued.

“I never wanted to have to tell a kid like Din about what happened before I told you lot.” Echo’s brown eyes had since softened with meaning as he nodded. “But he needed to hear it. He needed to know that someone else who had experienced the same kind of loss could survive that pain.”

Echo’s gaze shifted from Crosshair, who had gone as rigid as durasteel, to Hunter. The pleading look in his eyes was all Hunter needed to speak up. “How’d the kid take it when you told him?”

Echo shrugged. “I think it helped. He, uh… he could at least go back to sleep after hearing about it.”

“Not for long, unfortunately.” All heads turned to Tech as he spoke. The specialist looked a lot less concerned than Hunter himself felt. “It was shortly after your own watch shift that he woke and lamented about ‘seeing’ what had happened whenever he attempted rest.”

Echo’s brow furrowed. “Is that when you let him talk about it?”

“That is correct. Considering the fact he did not return to the cockpit again, I presume that method worked.” Tech adjusted his goggles before turning towards the sealed cockpit door. “As this is now the second occasion of such proving efficiency… I shall make note of it.”

He stepped out, presumably to grab his datapad from the hold. Once the door had closed again, Hunter sighed and crossed his arms over his chestplate, facing Echo and Crosshair with a raised brow.

“Listen. Obviously, whatever’s going on here has to do with a lot more than just a story about Echo’s batchmates.”

The sniper and ARC trooper cut their gazes at one another before looking away. Hunter blew out a sharper breath from his nostrils.

“I’m not telling you to somehow solve the problem right now and move on, but the reality is that the longer you two wait to do it, the more danger it puts the rest of us in.” Hunter watched the severity of his words dawn upon them. “Trust issues can make a squad vulnerable out in the field. Thankfully, you two haven’t let that happen yet, but who knows when it could catch up to you. To us.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes as he looked between his two brothers. As he went on, however, he softened more, revealing the genuine care behind his words.

“That’s why I’m asking you not only as your sergeant, but also as your brother, to have this worked out by the end of our next mission.”

Crosshair couldn’t help himself. He was sneering at his older brother sarcastically in a heartbeat. “Is that an order?”

Hunter lifted a single brow, unimpressed. “You know what? Yeah. It is.” He huffed. “And the deadline gives me plenty of time to figure out the consequences for any noncompliance.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes and leaned back, practically chomping on his toothpick in frustration. “Of course you’re pulling rank.”

Hunter frowned. “Something I only do when I absolutely have to, for the good of our squad as a unit.” He lowered his arms and took a step forward, sizing up Crosshair first. “You good with that, trooper?”

Crosshair sighed, his jaw tightening as he obviously fought off another eye-roll. “Yes, sir.”

Hunter turned to Echo next, who had been unusually quiet the entire time Hunter had spoken. “Corporal?”

Echo looked ashamed as he returned Hunter’s glance in earnest and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Hunter stepped back to where he was and crossed his arms again. “Because we’ve got bigger problems at hand.” His gaze met Echo’s, which flashed with understanding.

Crosshair, however, had clearly only started eavesdropping on their earlier conversation once Echo’s batchmates were brought up. “What ‘bigger problems’?”

Hunter parted his lips to speak, but the door to the cockpit wooshed open before he could get anything out. Tech was stepping back inside with his datapad in hand, though he remained in the threshold as he gestured with his head to something behind him. “I believe Wrecker’s endeavor was a success.”

Hunter looked to see Wrecker carrying Din’s small form upon his shoulder. The sergeant’s chest constricted at the sight, caught between guilt about the kid and pride for his younger brother’s clear ability to soothe him.

Wrecker, noticing the attention he was suddenly getting, set a finger over his lips to signal silence before he offered a thumbs up. Hunter nodded and smiled at his younger brother, gesturing first to the bunks and then to the cockpit. Wrecker returned the nod and focused on settling Din inside his empty bunk.

“Kid must be exhausted,” Echo muttered, staying quiet as the door to the cockpit remained open. “He and Wrecker haven’t even been out there that long.”

Hunter let out a soft breath, running the back of his thumb along the part of his forehead just underneath his bandana. “Hopefully, he can stay asleep this time.”

Hunter might not have lost any brothers the way Echo had, but that didn’t mean he was unfamiliar with the night terrors that came from something like that. The close calls Hunter’s brothers had in the past were enough to haunt him for weeks—months, even. Hunter had dreamt about the catastrophic mission that had left Wrecker scarred with one less eye and a barely-functioning eardrum for almost an entire cycle straight.

And the boys still thought Hunter avoided sleep solely for the purpose of getting stuff done. He certainly wasn’t going to tell them otherwise.

But what Hunter didn’t want to stand for was this poor kid not being able to get decent rest because of this harrowing, traumatic event, though he knew it was a lot to ask for. He would be ready to comfort the kid the moment he needed it, no matter how long it went on.

Except for the fact that they were only supposed to be together for more rotation, if that. Coruscant was quickly approaching.

That train of thought, along with Crosshair’s aggressively curious voice, brought Hunter back to the situation at hand. “What are our ‘bigger problems’, Hunter?”

Hunter looked over his shoulder and saw Wrecker on approach. His younger brother had tucked Din into his military grade bedsheets and even eased Lula into his arms. As lighthearted as it made Hunter feel, he forced himself to focus on their current predicament.

“Now that we’re all gathered here again…” Hunter waited until Tech and Wrecker had both fully entered the cockpit to secure the door closed behind them again. “We need to talk about the kid.”

Hunter remained standing by the door, letting Tech and Wrecker take the only vacant seats left. Tech was buried in his datapad on Crosshair’s side, while Wrecker stayed by Echo.

“What about him?” Crosshair raised his brow as he flipped his toothpick pensively.

Hunter let out a steady breath. “Well, I was talking to Wrecker at the end of our sleep cycle, and to Echo before we were interrupted,” he shot Crosshair a look, “and it’s becoming clear that we all feel a certain way about this kid.” Hunter’s gaze was searching as he sought to clarify his words.

“I presume you are referring to the increased pressure in our thoracic cavities, along with the inexplicable pool of dread collecting in our abdomens?” Tech had finally lifted his attention from his datapad, along with his forefinger.

Hunter blinked a few times before chuckling. “I mean, yeah, that’s how it feels physically.” He shook his head. “It’s like a strong sense, a duty even, to protect him. And a sense of dread whenever I think about leaving him on Coruscant.”

“That’s how I’ve been feelin’, too,” Wrecker agreed with a nod.

“Same here,” Echo added.

“I concur.” Tech’s nose was back in his datapad.

Crosshair grunted his own agreement.

Hunter’s shoulders weighed just a little bit lighter at the confirmation of the feeling being mutual. “Okay. So, we all agree.” He nodded and shifted his weight between his feet. “And do we also agree that it’s weird we’re all feeling this same feeling?”

“Say ‘feeling’ one more time,” Crosshair muttered.

One of Tech’s more harmless tools was bouncing off the sniper’s temple before Hunter could even level him with a look. Crosshair growled in Tech’s direction as he rubbed his head.

“I mean, it seems funny to me,” Wrecker spoke up. “Funny as in ‘weird,’ like you said.”

“We are aware,” Tech assured him without looking up from his datapad.

“This can’t be a coincidence.” Echo looked around the room, but most pointedly at Tech. “Right?”

“No one else survived.” Hunter’s grim reminder earned quick silence and stillness from the room. “He was the sole survivor of that place. And we just happened to be directly over it when General Ti reached out to us.”

“Hunter.” Crosshair let out an amused scoff. “You’re not actually trying to suggest that—.”

“If I may,” Tech cut in, finally looking up from his datapad and holding it for everyone to see. “I’ve actually been conducting vast research on phenomena such as this, and contrary to whatever you were about to say, Crosshair, I do believe that, based on the accounts of those like the Jedi and other Force-sensitives, this could indeed be a Force-related feeling.” Tech adjusted his goggles as the shocked faces around him remained silent. “Should one believe in such a mystical force to begin with.”

“Of course we believe in it.” Echo’s quick response was firm. “We’ve literally seen the Jedi use it!”

“I’m certain you have witnessed far more of it than we have.” Tech nodded at the ARC. “Considering you once served alongside General Skywalker.”

“Tech.” Hunter’s eyes closed, and he held two fingers up to the bridge of his nose as he attempted to get things back on track—and to make sure that he wasn’t misunderstanding his brother’s words. “You’re really saying that this thing we’re feeling is… the Force?”

“Not necessarily.”

Hunter reopened his eyes to look at Tech as he spoke, but kept his fingers where they were. They were helping him fight back a stress-induced migraine, which would at least be a pleasant break from his usual sensory migraines.

“That is merely one possibility. This could be a simple case of coincidence that is uniquely layered, though the magnitude with which it has happened seems to point towards another underlying factor. Hence the Force theory.”

“Or,” Crosshair hissed, “we’re all just over-exhausted from not getting to rest on Kamino for countless rotations, and the reality is we feel bad for the kid.” He raised his brow and looked around the group. “Are you hearing yourselves? The Force?”

“Whatever it is,” Hunter lowered his fingers from his head and set his hands on his hips. “We always lead with our gut. And if all our guts are saying the same thing, then why wouldn’t we listen to it now?”

Crosshair flicked his toothpick at Hunter, causing it to bounce off his chestplate unceremoniously. “Because the implication of keeping a child around isn’t something we should even be considering.”

“That’s the thing, Hunter.” Even Echo seemed to be in agreement with Crosshair. “He’s a kid. What would we do with him if we didn’t bring him to Coruscant? Is there supposed to be some other place we bring him instead that makes us… feel better? We sure as hell can’t bring him with us to Kamino.”

“Uh…” Wrecker’s sudden uncertainty caused everyone’s heads to whip towards him. He was fumbling with his large hands in his lap as he gave the group a tentative look. “I might have somethin’ to add.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes at his younger brother. “Wrecker… what are you hiding?”

Wrecker’s eyes widened. “I’m not hidin’ anythin’!” He jutted his thumb towards the cockpit’s closed door. “But the kid just told me that he thinks we wanna get rid of ‘im.”

Everyone’s expressions dropped at that. Hunter didn’t even need to observe them all to know how much those words devastated them. He could hear it in all their heartbeats.

“What did you say to him?” Hunter fully turned in Wrecker’s direction. “Does he know we’re supposed to be dropping him off?”

“No, no, I didn’t say nothin’ about Coruscant!” Wrecker held his hands up in surrender. “I just told ‘im the truth. Well, the truth that I could tell ‘im.”

Echo leaned forward in his chair, closer to Wrecker. “Which was?”

“That none of us want to get rid of ‘im.” Wrecker held out his hands, gesturing to the rest of the squad. “Which is true, right? That’s what we’re talkin’ about right now!”

“So, what you’re saying is…” Hunter glanced towards the cockpit door, “he wants to stay with us.”

“That’s how it sounded to me, yeah.”

“Kriff.” The curse tumbling from Echo’s lips won his attention from just about everyone in the cockpit. The ARC was running his organic fingertips over his brow as he let out a heavy sigh. “We can’t just leave the kid on Coruscant now. We can’t.”

“And why is that?” Crosshair had a new toothpick set between his lips as he raised an eyebrow at Echo.

Hunter scoffed. “Crosshair.” He furrowed his brow as he leveled his youngest brother with a firm glare. “Stop acting like you don’t want the kid here. Or should I tell everyone what I saw during the sleep cycle?”

Crosshair blanched, but only for a second. His expression was soon twisting into a menacing snarl that tried, and failed, to intimidate his eldest brother. “You wouldn’t.”

Hunter was about to challenge him further when Wrecker stepped in. “Oh! Are you talkin’ about how he—?”

Both Hunter and Crosshair shushed Wrecker at the same time. They still exchanged a hostile glance with one another.

“Uh… what’s happening here?” Echo looked between the three of them with a confused lift of his brow.

“Key information is being withheld,” Tech answered, his tone betraying his amusement.

Crosshair threw his new toothpick aside and stood from his chair. “Listen.” His voice was a sharp hiss that he directed towards Hunter as he pointed his finger in the sergeant’s direction. “If you really cared about the kid, then you would agree that he can’t stay here.” Crosshair pressed both his gloved palms against his chest plate. “We’re soldiers, Hunter. Wake up!”

The sniper stepped close enough to give Hunter’s shoulder a rough shove. He fell back a single step, scowling at Crosshair as he continued.

“Bringing this kid with us into war zones won’t do anything but give him more trauma. He needs to be somewhere safe.”

Hunter couldn’t stay silent anymore. “But what if Coruscant isn’t safe?” He tightened his jaw at the mere thought of what he was saying becoming reality. “What if we leave him there, and the next place he’s shipped off to puts him in more danger?”

“Coruscant is dangerous enough as it is,” Echo added, nodding in Hunter’s direction. “You should hear the stories from the CG.”

“Yeah, we’ve heard ‘em,” Wrecker assured the ARC trooper. He chuckled heartily. “We’ve even been a part of some of ‘em.”

Echo’s brow shot up as his head snapped towards Wrecker. “You what?”

“There are not as many stories as Wrecker’s statement has implied,” Tech warned the curious ARC. Hunter went back to pinching the bridge of his nose as the conversation quickly digressed. “There are, however, still more than the average—.”

“Focus, lads.”

Hunter steadied himself with a breath and looked around the room with his typical sergeant stare. He only continued when each eye in the cockpit was on him again, and he was pleased to see that Crosshair was even sitting back down in his chair.

“We’re clearly out of our depth here, so let’s look at this from a familiar perspective.” Hunter nodded, though whether the gesture was for them or himself, he didn’t really know. “Keeping the kid safe is our mission objective. What things do we know that risk us completing the objective?”

“There are several.” Tech couldn’t help himself, but no one seemed to object to him answering, anyway. “The first is, evidently, our collective hesitation about the child’s safety on Coruscant, although it’s worth noting that this is, as yet, an unexplained phenomenon. In terms of more tangible factors, there is Coruscant’s rather questionable criminal activity, particularly the lower an individual goes into the city.”

Crosshair offered a roll of his eyes dramatic enough that Hunter was genuinely surprised they didn’t get stuck in the back of his head. “A refugee organization isn’t just gonna drop the kid off in Coruscant’s lower levels to fend for himself.”

“Be that as it may,” Tech didn’t miss a beat, “criminal activity on Coruscant, in addition to residing within the heart of the Republic, a prime target of our adversaries during wartime, both make for a potentially unsafe atmosphere for the child.”

“We also know it’s not just physical safety we have to consider.” Echo spoke with a tone that was heavy with personal experience, and his downcast gaze further proved it. “The kid has bonded quickly with us in a very traumatic time for him. Especially knowing now that he already thinks we want to get rid of him… doing that will worsen his sense of abandonment and loneliness.”

“Which would thus lead to more intensified trauma.” Tech hummed with consideration as he nodded at Echo. “That is certainly something to consider.”

Hunter closed his eyes and focused, visualizing the information in his head the way he always did with missions plans and briefings. Coruscant poses a problem for crime and other war-related dangers. The kid’s trauma will probably get worse if we leave him. We all have a really bad feeling about leaving him there as it is.

“We were also in the right place at the right time for the kid’s rescue.” Hunter spoke the final piece of the unsolved puzzle aloud, reopening his eyes as he did so. “It doesn’t have to mean something,” he raised an eyebrow at Crosshair, anticipating that the sniper would make another snide comment about it, “but it could.”

“So…” Wrecker ran a large hand thoughtfully over his head. He glanced hopefully in Hunter’s direction. “What’s the plan, Sarge?”

Hunter sighed and shifted his stance, crossing his arms over his chestplate as he mused upon their options for a few more precious seconds. This was vastly different from the plans Hunter typically had to make, whether it be for battle, covert ops, or whatever else they were tasked with, but the squad had also successfully carried out missions with way less information—and much less of an idea of what they actually wanted to do.

Hell, even Echo’s rescue on Skako Minor had been operating off less intel than this.

“Here’s what we’ll do.” Hunter made eye contact with each one of his brothers individually before he went on. “Listening to our instincts has gotten us this far in the war.”

“With a flawless success rate, nonetheless,” Tech chimed in.

Hunter flashed him an appreciative glance. He was willing to forgive the interruption in exchange for the hopeful observation. “Exactly. So, if anything, the stats say we really shouldn’t change our method.”

“Which means?” Crosshair drawled, his eyes narrowed in caution.

“We’ll take things one decision at a time as far as the kid goes. Whatever this… feeling is, we’ll keep listening to it, until one choice takes us to the next.”

Echo lifted his brow curiously. “So, what’s the consensus on Coruscant?”

Hunter shrugged. “I think it’s pretty clear.” He looked at Wrecker and nodded. “We’re not leaving the kid there.”

Wrecker cheered, punching an enthusiastic fist in the air, and was instantly shushed by the entire room. Hunter spared a look at the cockpit door that was still closed behind him, and when he reached his senses out past the metal barrier, he was relieved to hear that Din’s heartbeat hadn’t changed from its restful pace.

“Sorry,” Wrecker whispered, although there wasn’t really a need to be that quiet. “I’m just excited to have Mando around a little longer!”

“Didn’t you tell Coruscant we’re coming?” Crosshair still wasn’t fully convinced, although Hunter had clearly heard the relieved exhale he had attempted to hide when the sergeant had announced his decision. “They won’t take a sudden redirect well. Not when it involves a kid.”

“Yeah,” Hunter nodded in Echo’s direction, “we were talking about that earlier, too.”

Crosshair lifted a single eyebrow, but Hunter didn’t miss the flash of betrayal in his piercing gaze as it flickered over at the ARC. Echo, in return, offered the sniper a wary look.

Hunter was too tired to deal any further with that. He stole a look at the chrono, which was still adjusted to the timezone of their last mission’s planet, and then observed how much time they had left until they got to the Republic capital.

“We’ll discuss plans later. It’s time for the sleep cycle.” The sergeant set his hands on his hips. “I’ll take first watch. The rest of you, stay quiet when you’re settling in. We don’t want the kid waking up.”

Hunter then turned to Wrecker, who looked as if he was about to ask the question that the sergeant was already about to answer.

“Wrecker, take my bunk for now.”

Wrecker hesitated before he let out a groan. “But… your bunk is up high.”

Hunter shrugged casually. “You could always switch with Tech.”

Both Tech and Wrecker answered at the same time. “No.”

Hunter didn’t bother fighting off his amused smile. “That’s what I thought.” His hand hovered over the controls for the cockpit door as he leveled them all with one more serious stare. “Remember, stay quiet.”

The squad nodded, but not without Crosshair rolling his eyes first. Hunter, as usual, didn’t take it personally. The sniper was just eager to get out of the cockpit, where he’d been confined for a longer amount of time than usual.

Hunter opened the door and let his squadmates file out. Crosshair was first, reaching the threshold in just a few strides, with Wrecker and Tech trailing him. Echo stopped by Hunter and set a firm hand on the sergeant’s shoulder.

“Sorry about that outburst earlier, Hunter.” Echo sounded genuinely apologetic as his expressive stare found the sergeant’s.

The corners of Hunter’s mouth rose just the slightest amount as he nodded at the corporal. “I understand.” He cut his gaze towards the bunks and lowered his voice even more. “Cross can be… hard to get through to,” that was an understatement, “but once you learn not to take the bait, it gets a little easier.”

Echo sighed. “Hell, I get it. It’s a damn effective way of protecting yourself.”

Hunter huffed. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.” He exhaled a light breath and gestured with his head to the hold. “Now go get some rest.”

Echo gave Hunter’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before the sergeant could move. “Make sure you get some rest tonight too, Hunter.”

The sergeant simply nodded at Echo, refusing to make any promises. That was enough for the ARC, who then dropped his hand from Hunter’s shoulder and set off towards the bunks. Hunter watched him and his brothers for a few more heartbeats before he stepped forward to plop down into the pilot’s chair. He pulled his blade from its sheath and started twirling it.

There was way too much going on in Hunter’s mind for him to even think about getting a single wink of sleep, at least anytime soon. He had to start planning for Coruscant, and once that was done, he had to think about next steps, because Crosshair had been right: he didn’t want to take a child like Din into war zones, much less the kind of missions they were typically assigned.

Hunter sighed and closed his eyes. What am I getting myself into?

Hunter hated caf.

He didn’t have any other options, though. The caffeinated tea he liked had run out nearly a full standard month ago, and despite whatever nonverbal reassurance he had given Echo, there was no way he was falling asleep tonight. His only option for staying alert was the caf that Echo always kept in high stock.

But that didn’t mean Hunter had to like it. Its bitterness was only multiplied by Hunter’s sensitive taste buds, making him scrunch up his face every time he drew a sip from it.

He was still in the cockpit, his feet now kicked up without Tech around to say anything about it, when he heard rustling from the bunks. Hunter froze and sat up a bit straighter, straining his ears to listen for each distinct heartbeat.

Sure enough, it was the newest out of the five out there that was speeding back up from its restful state. Hunter knew he ought to be disappointed by that, because the kid needed all the rest he could get, but he had also been hoping to talk to Din alone before they acted any further on their plans.

Hunter heard Din making his way to the cockpit long before the kid actually got there. He held the cup of caf between both hands as he spun in his chair to face Din, who froze once the sergeant’s gaze fell on him.

“It’s alright.” Hunter’s voice was low enough to keep the others from stirring as he gestured with his head to the co-pilot’s chair. “You can come in.”

Din blinked in surprise before he accepted Hunter’s gentle invitation. “Was I being loud?”

Hunter shook his head as the kid hopped up into the chair beside his. “Not at all.” He nodded towards the bunks. “None of ‘em are stirring in the slightest.”

Din’s eyes were wide in hardly-concealed amazement. “Whoa. Crosshair was right.” His hand circled his own ear. “You can hear really good.”

Hunter chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll give him that.”

The sergeant then turned to the controls. He found the one for the cockpit door and slid it shut, just to ensure their continued conversation didn’t actually rouse the others. Hunter then turned back to Din with a more serious expression.

“I’ve got an important question for you, Din.”

The kid’s gaze flickered with curiosity. “I’ll answer it.”

Hunter nodded with a small smile. “Thanks.” He glanced down at the caf that sat between his hands and let out a soft exhale. “But first, I gotta’ be honest with you.”

The sergeant looked back up at Din. The child gave him a small nod, encouraging Hunter to continue.

“Right now, we’re on our way to Coruscant, so we can bring you to a group of people who can take care of you.” Din’s face already started to fall. “It wasn’t our idea. This is just standard procedure for when we come across survivors during the war.”

Hunter leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees and balancing his caf in his hands as he held Din’s gaze.

“But we don’t want to leave you there. We were talking while you were sleeping, and we decided that we want to try to find a way to keep you around, at least for now.” Hunter tilted his head, nodding at the kid as he tightened his expression in soft severity. “That decision isn’t up to us, though. It’s up to you.”

Din looked as if he was about to burst with both relief and excitement, but before he could, Hunter held up a hand to keep him quiet for a few more moments.

“Just know, kid, that we’re at war right now. You’re still much older than we were when we started training, but we didn’t even leave our homeworld to fight until we were at least double your age.” Hunter’s brow rose. “We’re not gonna put you in any further danger, not if we can avoid it, but staying with us alone is dangerous. I want you to consider that before you decide.”

Din shrugged. “Well, you guys kept me safe at home. You’re probably better at that than those other people would be, right?”

Hunter couldn’t help letting out an amused huff. “You’d hope so, considering we’re the ones fighting the battles.”

“Exactly!” Din forced himself to take a deep breath, as if he truly wanted to convey his own seriousness to Hunter before he went on. “I do want to stay with you, Hunter.”

Hunter’s chest warmed in a way that somehow proved to him that they were, in fact, making the right call here. Still, he had to truly confirm it. “Are you sure?”

Din nodded, as if this was the easiest decision to make in the entire galaxy. “I’m sure.”

Hunter smiled. “Alright, then.” He leaned back in the chair. “Welcome to the Bad Batch, Mando.”

Din tilted his head at that. “The Bad Batch?”

Hunter’s smile transformed into an amused smirk. “That’s what we call ourselves.”

“The Bad Batch…” Din repeated the name with more reverence. He glanced up at Hunter with bright eyes. “I really am one of you now, like Wrecker said!”

“That’s right.” Hunter exchanged some of his lightheartedness for severity again as he leveled Din with one of his sergeant stares. “That means, cadet, that you listen to the orders you get from your sergeant, your corporal, and your troopers without question or hesitation. Do I make myself clear?”

Din snapped into a salute that wasn’t bad for someone who hadn’t been training to do it since literal birth. “Yes, sir!”

Hunter nodded in satisfaction and approval. “Good.” He opened the cockpit door again and gestured to it with his head. “Now go get some more sleep.”

Since Din’s heart rate hadn’t elevated before he last woke, Hunter knew the kid hadn’t been having any nightmares yet, which was the only reason why he was okay with sending Din right back to bed. The kid, however, seemed hesitant to do so.

Hunter furrowed his brow. “That’s an order.”

Din stood right away. “Yes, sir!” His voice was a mere whisper-shout before he all but ran out of the cockpit and towards the bunks.

Hunter chuckled to himself and turned back towards the viewport. Although he’d had his own semblance of authority among his batchmates as the eldest growing up, he hadn’t earned the rank of sergeant until they were older, which hadn’t given him the ability to deal out orders to them as cadets. Hunter wasn’t, and never would be, one to pull rank unless it was absolutely necessary, but it was amusing to see a kid like Din follow his orders so eagerly.

Hunter drew a sip of his caf, forgetting for a moment that it wasn’t his tea, and nearly spat it out when the bitter taste touched his tongue. He squeezed his eyes closed and fought against a growl as he forced it down his throat.

The bitterness of the caf was a rude awakening to the sergeant that Din’s agreement to staying with them was far from a solution. Hunter still had to come up with a plan for Coruscant, and then he had to decide what they would do from there. At least they had some time on Kamino before they would be shipped out again.

He sighed and propped his feet back up onto the console. All he could do for now was let the caffeine work through his bloodstream as he prepared for Coruscant—and Echo’s lecture about avoiding sleep once again.