Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One

Heroes and Heroines

“Hunter, where are you?” Omega’s voice carried through her home.

“We’re in here,” Hunter called back.

Omega and Lyana Hazard, a pair of pretty sixteen-year-olds, rushed into the kitchen. Around the room sat all five brothers. Late day and they each had their favorite brew, talking quietly.

Hunter and Crosshair took one look at the two excited faces, and Crosshair sighed, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna like whatever it is they’ve cooked up,” he intoned solemnly though he didn’t leave.

“That’s not fair, Cross,” Omega fussed, hands on her hips. “Lyana has an idea, and it’s a good one. And it’ll be fun!”

“Okay, kid. Let’s hear what she has come up with before we decide if it’s fun or not,” Hunter suggested with a grin at his sister’s sunny optimism and Lyana’s suddenly shy expression.

“Go ahead, Lyana. Tell them. I’m sure they’ll do it,” Omega urged her friend—her partner in crime at the moment.

“I have to concur with Crosshair this time,” Tech said as his eyes widened. “I do not think I will like whatever the young lady suggests.”

Omega let out a big huff and threw up her hands. “Just give us a few minutes to tell you what this is, and then you can all get snarky about the idea.”

Echo laughed as he sipped his second cup of caf. “She’s got a point, guys. Let Lyana talk first then you can go rogue.” His patience lasted much longer than Crosshair’s or Tech’s in most instances.

“What cha got, kid?” Wrecker saluted Lyana with his cup.

Despite her age and the fact that she was Omega’s best friend, in and out of her house all the time and around the brothers more than anyone on the island, Lyana stepped forward with her hands behind her back and her eyes on the floor.

“Well, this was Deke’s idea, but it’s a great one,” she said as a warm-up. Sucking in a deep breath of bravery, she lifted her head and caught each brother’s eyes as she laid out her idea.

“There’s a legend about the treasure of Pabu Island that Deke heard the other day. He, Omega, and I got to talking, and we thought…” She stopped to add something she forgot. “The folks here put on a play every few years that recounts the story. We’ve not done that since you arrived. And since there are five brothers, you’d be perfect for the parts. I want to ask you to be in the play.”

“That sounds like fun!” Wrecker waved his caf cup around and in his enthusiasm managed to slosh some of his drink on the counter. “Oops, sorry,” he apologized as he wiped up the mess. “But it still sounds amazing.”

“You do not even know what the play is about,” Tech pointed out as he moved his data pad so Wrecker could get any stray drops of caf. “You might not like the plot.”

“Huh?” Clearly, the big man wasn’t familiar with the word, demolition genius that he was.

Before Tech could go into a long-winded explanation of that single word, Crosshair let out an expected comment. “I’m outta here,” he said as he planted his feet on the floor.

“Hold it! You haven’t heard it all yet,” Omega stood in the door, with her hands on her hips again and that look on her face. A frown and a hard look in her eyes that told the brothers they had to listen if not agree to this plan. She especially shot a hot glare at her sniper brother.

Though Crosshair wanted to leave, he had no desire to get on the wrong side of his sister. Not only did he love and respect her—though he’d not ever say that aloud—but if he left and the others agreed to the idea then she’d hunt him down and make his life miserable. All she asked was that they consider the play, not actually agree on doing it.

Controlling his sigh and refraining from rolling his eyes at Omega, he returned to his perch at the edge of the table.

“Lyana, finish what you were going to say,” Omega encouraged as she shot a frown at her brothers, warning them not to interrupt her friend again.

“You are becoming a rather bossy young woman, Omega,” Tech observed as he turned his attention to her friend.

“Too right,” the blonde agreed, her arms crossed over her nicely forming chest.

Lyana cleared her throat and continued her thoughts. “The story says that once upon a time, a group of pirates came to the island.” She held up a hand and ticked off the pirates. “There was a captain, a first mate, and a helmsman. The rest were crewmembers. Sooo…Deke immediately thought of the brothers.”

The Bad Batch was familiar with the term that islanders used when referring to them. They had first names but no last names so were simply called the brothers.

Lyana shot a glowing face to each man. “You would make great pirates.”

“Did the pirates take the island? Did they hurt anyone?” asked the biggest one with the most tender heart.

“No, Mr. Wrecker. The pirates were defeated by a hero. It’s always a woman, and Omega will be the one to defeat the pirates,” she waved her hand around the room, “All of you.”

“Technically speaking, Omega would then be a heroine, not a hero.”

“I stand corrected, Mr. Tech,” Lyana said graciously, her face wearing a soft smile.

“Let me get this straight,” Hunter said as he tried to control a chuckle. “We’d be the pirates, and Omega would save the island people.”

“Yes, sir.” Some of Lyana’s enthusiasm returned. “The folks love the story, and the brothers would be so perfect. Omega too.”

“ So what…we dress as pirates? With swords?” Wrecker almost bounced on his feet as he waited for an answer.

“Absolutely!” Omega chimed in. “The ladies at the dress shop are willing to make our costumes, and maybe Hunter can carve swords for us?” she asked with a sideways tilt to her head, giving him a side-eye of anticipation. “The pirates will sail in on one of the boats and come ashore on the beach. The folks in the audience will gather on the beach—both as our modern audience while also serving as the frightened people of Pabu back when it all began.

“Mr. Echo can be our moderator. He’s got a good voice that people like hearing,” Lyana added, turning a sweet smile on the cyborg.

Echo beamed as he nodded.

“So we’re doing this?” Wrecker asked.

“Lyana, can we talk about this and let you know tomorrow?” Hunter wasn’t about to commit his brothers and sister without a discussion, one best done without an audience.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Hunter. I hope you decide to do this. You’d need a month to get ready…swords and clothes and all. There aren’t many lines.”

“What’s the treasure anyway,” Echo asked.

“Oh, I can’t tell you that,” Lyana said with a wicked smile. “That’s Omega’s line.”

“What happens to the pirates?” Wrecker wanted to know.

“Maybe it’s best if Omega gives you the details,” Lyana suddenly announced as she grabbed her friend’s hand and nodded toward the front door. “I’ll check back with Omega tomorrow.” She might have been ready to leave but stopped and gave them all a bright smile. “I hope you decide to do this. I can just imagine all of you as pirates and Omega as a…heroine,” she said with a nod to Tech.

* * * *

“What do you think?” Echo casually asked while Omega was saying goodbye to her friend.

“We shall be in a great deal of trouble with our sister if we do not participate in this production,” Tech observed.

“You can say that again,” Wrecker’s usual happy expression turned a bit anxious, imagining what his little sister might say or do if they refused.

“Pirates and swords. How childish,” Crosshair muttered though he wore a thoughtful expression.

Hunter wrapped a large hand around the back of his neck, smoothing out possible signs of stress. “The costumes aren’t our business. I can make authentic-enough looking swords,” he mused.

“I can be captain,” Wrecker volunteered. He changed his mind when four sets of eyes gave him a look that said are you kidding? “I’d make a great captain,” he insisted though he’d already rethought the idea.

“Actually, if you do this, I have an idea for each of you,” Omega said from the doorway, leaning against it with her arms crossed much as she’d seen Hunter and Cross do many times.

“Oh, now I know I’m not going to like this,” Cross grumbled. However, he shot a glance at Omega just to see what she’d suggest.

She strolled into the kitchen in silence, all the men watching her intently. Without a word, she got a big glass of blue milk and calmly took a seat at the counter between Hunter and Echo. She could still see the other brothers at the table though.

“Well, out with it before you bust a blood vessel,” Cross ordered.

Omega twirled her glass around and around as she gathered her thoughts. “The only lines in the play are between the captain and heroine. Not many, I think. We have to come up with them. Lyana said they’re slightly different every time they do the play. The heroine has the most important line.”

“Okay, so what’s your idea about the pirates since Lyana said you’re the heroine?” Hunter wanted to know as he leaned both arms on the counter and held his empty tea mug.

“We need a helmsman who guides in the ship and carries the maps,” Omega started, letting the brothers figure out who that would be. Not a hard decision as far as she was concerned, but she waited to see if the others agreed.

All eyes immediately went to Tech.

“What?” he squeaked, clearly taken by surprise though he shouldn’t have been.

“You’d be perfect,” Wrecker boomed, slapping his smaller brother so hard on the shoulder that Tech fell sideways, almost knocking Cross off the edge of the table where he sat.

“That is a logical choice…if we decide to do this,” Tech affirmed with reservations, righting himself back into his chair.

“So, what do you have in mind for the rest of us,” Hunter asked as he raised an eyebrow, almost certain that she’d pick him as the captain.

“Well, Wrecker would be a crewman. You know, one of those big bruisers with lots of muscles who try to overpower the heroine,” Omega said with a giggle as the biggest brother flexed his muscled arms.

“Yeah, lots of muscles,” he laughed.

“Echo is our storyteller.”

“Again, a logical choice,” Tech said with a nod toward his more-mechanical brother.

“So that leaves Crosshair and me,” Hunter reminded her.

Without fidgeting, Omega looked directly at Hunter, hoping her idea wouldn’t hurt his feelings. “You’re the first mate. Loyal to the captain. A fierce fighter, but one who eventually goes down to my sword.”

Hunter sat with a stunned expression for only a second as he sensed one heartbeat that had started pounding like a hammer. All eyes turned to Crosshair who stood with wide eyes and a stunned expression of his own.

“No. No! No way,” he said loudly, his hand cutting the air in defiance.

Omega sat in silence, holding his gaze.

Her brothers remained silent, their focus bouncing back and forth between the sister and the silver-haired brother.

“Why me?” Cross finally managed to ask, his voice croaking. He wasn’t conceding exactly, but he was curious.

“You can carry off the mean and nasty attitude quite well,” his sister said with a straight face.

For two seconds silence reigned then howls of laughter filled the room. Hunter slapped the counter over and over, his laughter bringing tears to his eyes. Tech actually chuckled as he saluted Crosshair with his caf cup. Echo laughed so hard he had to lay his head down on the counter to keep from falling off his stool. Wrecker swooped around the counter and wrapped Crosshair in a tender but tight hug, rubbing his face against the sniper’s hair.

“You’re gonna be amazing, Cross!” the big man purred.

“Put me down, you big di’kut! (idiot) Who said I’m doing this anyway?” Crosshair was definitely not amused by his family’s laughter.

Silence fell again, this time an anxious one as once again Omega held her brother’s gaze.

“Gedet’ye (please)?” she asked quietly.

Crosshair seemed to deflate, his eyes going up before he closed them, letting out a giant sigh of resignation. “Captain Cross,” he finally muttered. “I guess that won’t be all bad.” That being his way of saying he’d be the pirate captain.

“Yes!” Omega shot off her stool and proceeded to take over the hug that Wrecker relinquished. Not wanting the others to get hurt feelings, she scrambled around the kitchen, hugging each man, giggling more and more as she did.

“This is going to be so much fun. We’ll have to practice. Only Wrecker gets away with hacking and slashing with his sword. The rest of us have to learn how to use one properly.”

“Who’s going to teach us how to do that?” Hunter asked, his frown indicating he was trying to remember if anyone on the island knew how to use a sword.

“You all fought with Jedi. You’ve seen them use their swords. We can find vids and keep all this simple. But we have to practice, like learning a dance. So no one gets hurt,” Omega told them.

“This is about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of,” Cross said as he resigned himself to learning how to fight like a Jedi.

* * * *

So each brother wouldn’t be embarrassed, Melan from the dress shop brought her data pad and scanner to their house. She input the men’s sizes for everything from boots to shirts and pants to hat. Hunter would make the swords for everyone while Tech and Cross would create scabbards for each. Omega and Lyana sat with Echo, filling him in on the details of the story so he could narrate it properly. Wrecker’s job was to secure a boat for them to use.

A date was set, and the word went out. Every vendor made a sign announcing the play. Shop owners posted signs in their windows as well.

“No pressure here,” Hunter said a few days later. He’d taken off early from a meeting in order to gather wood strong enough to withstand blows. Shep helped him do that. Crosshair came in carrying an armload of leather as well as a pair of heavy-duty needles.

“I’ve looked up some holovids that show how the Jedi trained their padawans,” Omega informed the brothers that evening. “It’s gonna be hard work if we want to avoid getting injured. But think of it,” she whispered, her face aglow. “Our sword fights might rival those generals that Echo and Rex always talk about.”

“General Skywalker for sure. And General Kenobi.” Echo sat with a far-away look in his eyes. “Brave men. Good fighters. General Plo Koon as well. All three saw clones as men, not expendable soldiers.” He sighed with the common knowledge that all three men died because of Order 66. At least, Kenobi and Koon did. No one ever said what became of Skywalker.

“What’s a padawan?” Wrecker asked as he pushed back from the table after his third helping of the last meal.

“In the Jedi culture, they gathered children who were force-sensitive and took them to Coruscant for training. The youngest were referred to as littles, like the Kaminoans called us. As the kids grew older, they were called younglings where we were called cadets. Once they passed their Jedi tests, they became Jedi Knights.” Echo sat back and added, “I remember General Kenobi laughing at General Skywalker as he worked with his padawan, Ahsoka Tano. She was a fine commander even though she was only a youngling at the time. She’s part of the Resistance now. And still a fine leader, according to Rex.”

“I never knew that, Echo. I only knew the Jedi were highly skilled with swords. So,” Omega looked at each brother and doled out their assignments. “Wrecker can hack and slash at me, but we have to practice so you remember each step, little brother, or you’ll break me.”

“Nah, I won’t do that, Megs,” he affirmed but conceded, “but yeah, maybe we should practice.”

“Tech will be no problem. He’s the first member of the pirates who steps on the beach, and his hands will be filled with maps. He’ll have a pistol tucked into his sashing belt and will try to use that when he sees me with my sword. He dies immediately.”

“Thank the Maker,” Tech said quite seriously. “I was not looking forward to crossing blades with my little sister.”

That brought a chuckle from all.

“And it removes me from the remaining play quite nicely as well.”

Another round of laughter followed that.

“Wrecker comes next. Hunter, as the first mate, holds back, thinking the big man can take down the woman,” Omega said as she drew each man’s position on her data pad screen. “We’ll go for a minute, and then you’re down. But when each of you falls, be sure to face toward the main stage area so you can see the final sword fight.”

“Oh, goodie. An audience,” Cross intoned with a decided lack of enthusiasm.

“Zip it, Cross. We’re gonna be spectacular,” Omega calmly informed him with a firm nod, conviction in her voice, her eyes never meeting his.

Oddly enough, that comforted her snippy brother enough that he actually stopped complaining.

“So Hunter, as the loyal first mate, quickly sees that one crewman, even as big as Wrecker, can’t handle the woman so he comes for her. Wrecker goes down, and a much more serious fight ensues. Hunter, we have to practice so that you die well,” Omega informed him with a silly grin on her face.

Before she could outline Cross’s part in the play, Tech looked at the data pad over her shoulder and asked, “What about the audience? Where will they be? Will you be on the beach already?”

Omega laid the pad on the table so everyone could see. She had drawn soft curving lines below a straight line. “That’s the horizon,” she said as she ran her finger down the straight line. “Here’s where the sand begins, this line,” referring to the curved line. From there, she’d drawn a large arc from the water’s edge up along the beach and back to the water. In the middle of the arc was a pair of straight lines leading from the back where the beach started to the open stage area in the arc.

“That narrow set of lines is where I make an entrance. I’ll be back there, wearing a cape to cover my costume. Each of you will have a cape if you want it. You’ll dress in the dock shed before sailing around the cliff head and into the harbor. As soon as the ship comes to the dock, I’ll throw off the cape and walk that narrow aisle to the beach. That is center stage. All action happens there. A low cord will rope off the arc for the audience. Everyone will sit on the sand or bring a blanket to sit on. They’ll be packed in close. Lyana’s heard so many say they’re coming. The young ones have never seen the play, and the older ones are excited to see our family play the parts.”

She sat back and gave a happy sigh. “I’m so proud of my brothers.” She said it casually as if it were natural to compliment them.

“So what am I? Leftovers?” Cross wasn’t about to be left out of this production now that he’d been forced into it.   

Omega swiveled in her chair and hooked an arm over the back. “You, sir, are the most important member of this play. Unless we have a pirate who truly looks like a villain and can put up a realistic fight to gain the island’s treasure, this will all be a waste of time.” She shot a finger at him, “You, brother, can pull this off in your sleep. But,” she returned to face the table and her other brothers, “this is going to be a lot of work, learning how to fight without hurting each other but making it look real.”

“What about blood?” Wrecker was in the spirit of the play now.

“Let me handle that, brother,” Tech was quick to say. “I have given that some thought and may have a way to make the play even more realistic with blood shooting all over the place.” His words came a bit faster and a bit more emphatic than expected. Everyone turned to him in surprise, but no one said a word though many a brow raised.

“Seems our work is cut out for us,” Hunter said. “I’ve started on the swords. I have to measure your arm, Omega, and yours as well, Crosshair. He’ll have the advantage over you, Megs,” he pointed out.

“I can handle that. But Cross and I must practice a lot. There are a lot of moves we have to master if we want to make this look authentic.”

Cross didn’t look like he was on board with that but remained quiet. Omega would fill him in later.

“I’ll set up a training schedule for Wrecker, Hunter and Cross. Tech too but only for a session or two. I’ll always be there. This is going to be fun,” she reminded them again as she scooped up her data pad and ran off to her room.

“This will be interesting, but I am not sure if I can call it fun yet,” Tech commented, each brother nodding in agreement.

Chapter Text

“Wrecker, for now we’re going to use these long sticks that Hunter found for us. Let me show you what I think you should do. And then we’ll practice.” Omega held her stick in her right hand and stood with her left out toward him as well. “This is how I’ll be.” She then turned and took his stick, holding it with both hands. “You are going to lunge for me, swinging your sword like a hammer, back and forth, side to side. I’ll block it as much as I can though you’re going to be too strong for me to last long. I’ll have to take you out fast because one: you’re bigger and stronger than I am, and two: Hunter will be watching and decide to join in the fight.”

“Where’s Cross while we’re fighting?”

“He’ll be at the end of the dock just before stepping off onto the sand. He’ll be thinking his crew and first mate will eliminate me so he can march right in and find the treasure.”

“Oh, okay. So let’s practice.”

“Control, Wrecker. We’re going back and forth for a bit before I duck under your arm and slash your guts at your side.”

“That’s gonna hurt!”

“I won’t really hurt you, but I will have to drag my sword across your sash because Tech says he’s created fake blood packets to put under your shirts so you look like you’re bleeding.”

“But ya said I ain’t gonna wear a shirt. How’s that gonna work?”

“I forgot. You’re right. You’ll have a wide sash around your waist like a thick belt. There will be a leather band under the sash so you won’t really get hurt. The blood pack will be under the fabric where I drag my sword against your side.”

“Okay. Let’s do this,” the man said as he took firm hold of his big stick.

* * * *

“Kriffin’ day. I’m tired! And we whacked each other a few times. Those spots hurt.” Wrecker sighed as he collapsed in an exhausted heap on the living room floor later that evening. “She’s like one of them Jedi generals Rex always talkin’ about.”

“Speaking of Rex, I gave him the date of the play so he’d not want me for a mission. He said if he could, he’d be here too. And Phee said she wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Echo said. “Where’s Omega?”

“She took Hunter to the shed so they can practice. She said the place is big enough for all our sessions. Even the dance she and Cross are gonna do,” Wrecker told his brothers.

“Dance? I don’t dance,” snapped Crosshair from his place on the sofa.

“It’s notta real dance, Cross. But Omega said we gotta learn the steps for the fight so we won’t hurt each other. She said it’s important, like learning to dance with a girl.”

“Humph!” Cross sat up and studied Wrecker. “Is practice that hard?”

“Yeah, she’s a slave driver, that little one,” Wrecker acknowledged as he dragged himself up and waved to them. “I’m going ta bed. General Omega wants me back early. Says I might forget if we don’t practice a lot.” He rubbed his head and admitted. “I gotta get this right, or I might hurt Megs.”

* * * *

Hunter grabbed his stick with both hands, but Omega came over and removed his left hand.

“You’re a more skilled swordsman than Wrecker so you fight with one hand. However, you don’t fight like I do. I fight dirty.” She shot him a grin. “I learned from the best, and I plan on using that. But,” she winked at him as she took up her own long stick, “I have no intentions of telling you what I plan on doing beyond what we practice.”

Her brother didn’t know whether to gawk in awe or laugh at her words. He decided that she was the leader in this particular instance. The mantra for the brothers now was learn without hurting Omega.

“I’m going to show you how I’ll be standing, but then I’m going to stand in front of you with my back to you and show you what your moves should be. We need to practice enough that you don’t have to think about it…the moves should make sense in order to kill me.” She saw Hunter cringe at her words. “Sorry, but we’re all safe now, Hunter. This is a play, and we can be as vicious as our worst enemy ever was.”

Hunter couldn’t say anything. He could only nod. If going through all this would make Omega happy and keep her safe then he was going to be the best first mate anyone ever saw.

After a few starts and stops, a banged knuckle, a thumped side that would later bruise, and smarting shins, they managed to get through a series of thrusts and parries, Omega backing up twice. Her pushing him back several steps. She used the tip of her sword to roll over his blade. That took more time to learn. She taught him how to let their swords clash at the hilts and stare at each other, breathing each other’s breaths, eyes shooting fire and determination. At first, Hunter only saw his little sister and tried to soften his moves, but she wouldn’t let him. She yelled at him and forced him to see the play through her eyes.

“Now comes a complicated move,” she told him. “Let me do it in slow motion.”

From the clashing hilts and heavy breathing, she showed him how to use both hands to push her off and back. She managed to swing around to his backside. Back to back, she paused the action. “From here, I’m going to push my blade on my right side—your left—between your arm and your body. It should look like the island warrior thrust the blade straight through your body from back to front. It has to be a quick motion. If I hit your back hard enough when I swing around, the blood packet should bust. In the meantime, you’ll bust the one on your chest with your hand as you hug your fatal wound. If we don’t get this right, I’ll hurt your back, and that will put our first mate out of commission.”

The move was more complicated than Omega indicated, and both worked at the maneuvers more than a few times. Finally, they managed to get through the entire sequence without major issues though Omega still went slowly when thrusting her sword, making sure it slid between Hunter’s side and arm.

Seeing him worn out, she called a halt for the day. Her own exhaustion fell on her like a soft blanket. She’d been at it with both Wrecker and Hunter, using muscles she didn’t normally use. Putting her arm around her brother’s waist, they began the long walk from the shed at the docks up the winding path to upper Pabu where they lived.

* * * *

Like Wrecker, Hunter collapsed on the sofa, narrowly missing Crosshair who sprawled on the cushions. The older brother laid his head back and closed his eyes, sighing in relief.

“Wrecker’s right. She’s tough.” Too worn out to even drink his usual evening cup of tea, Hunter waved to his brothers and hugged Omega’s neck with a kiss on her forehead. “Night, General,” he whispered as he headed to his bedroom.

Echo had gone with Rex for a mission, leaving only Tech and Cross in the living room with Omega. Wrecker had already gone to bed.

“What’s so hard about this sword fighting that has those two crumbling like dried cookies?” Cross now lay on the sofa with his legs over the armrest, his feet dangling like they did when he was a little.

“It’s doing something we’ve never done before,” Omega said quietly from her place at his head, her eyes closed as well, her breathing slowing down.

“Wrecker said it was a dance,” Cross added, glancing over his head to see if she was still awake.

“Tomorrow I’ll show you the holovids I want us to use. They’re demanding. But we’ll be epic,” she said, her words growing fainter until she drifted off to sleep.

Tech held his goggles and examined her from the nearby chair. “I believe this might be fun for our sister, but it is also quite demanding. She must work with each of us. I have seen bruised knuckles, and she favored her right arm after a session with Wrecker.”

“She can handle it. Atin’la ad’ika (tough little one),” Cross said, his way of saying he cared but had no idea how to stop the dynamo called Omega.

“Indeed she can, but I hope the cost is not too great for her,” Tech finished. “And I think we need to think in terms of Atin’la dala…a tough woman,” his way of reminding Cross that Omega was growing up. “Perhaps it is time for her to retire for the evening,” he suggested.

“Humph,” Cross muttered even as he carefully unwrapped his legs from the sofa’s arm and sat up. When Omega fell asleep, she slept hard. After working with both brothers that day, he doubted anything would wake her. With one knee on the cushion, he carefully eased his arm under her legs and around her back, lifting her so her head lay against his shoulders. Not surprisingly, she cuddled in closer to his body, her head tucked under his chin. Cross nodded to Tech who moved ahead to her room and pulled back the sheet and covers.

One knee on her bed now, Cross laid her down then removed her boots and socks. Beyond that, neither man was willing to undress then redress her in pajamas. This was a sixteen-year-old female, and they respected her privacy.

Tech stood at her door, his hand on the frame, but turned back and said softly, “Good night, Omega,” before he left for his own room.

Cross sat on the edge of her bed for a few more minutes, watching her sleep. He remembered the child they first met on Kamino, naïve and optimistic. He recalled the fear in her eyes as they clawed their way through the watery downfall of Tipoca City. He recalled her tenderness and willingness to see the best in him when even his brothers had doubts. Most of all, he remembered her determination to return to her family and bring him back with her after he suffered through torture on Tantiss.

“Yeah, you’re a tough kid,” he admitted aloud. “You didn’t start out that way, but you got there. They helped you.” He jerked his head back toward the hall, indicating the other men. “But you helped me too. So, bring it on, little sister. If you can be tough then I’m all in with you.”

Checking that no one was around, he stood then bent over and kissed her forehead. “Night, Megs.”

* * * *

“Crosshair, did you get those holovids I sent you?” Omega asked the next morning when she returned from the practice shed.

“Yes,” was all he said.

“What do you think?”

“What am I supposed to think?”

“Well,” she started, her hands going to her hips in frustration at his short comments, “can we do some of those moves or not?”

“Why are you asking me? You’re the one in charge,” he replied, his hand wrapped around his cup.

“We’re in this one together, and it has to look good and be good. I want your input so it’s a coordinated effort.”

He turned slowly to her. “Since when does my word count for anything?”

Omega gave him such a shocked look that he actually shrank back. “What the kriff does that mean?” Before he could reply, she came closer and actually stuck her finger in his chest. “You’re my brother. Their brother. We listen to you while you listen to us. This isn’t the Empire where only one person’s words count. We do this together. Got it?” she hissed softly, in that moment resembling him more than he could ever remember.

Short of putting his foot in his mouth and saying something stupid, he gave her a two-finger salute. “Got it, General.” He paused then said, “I actually found one that isn’t too hard but has a few movements that will look good.”

“Great,” Omega pulled out two chairs at the table, her sunny smile back as if her dark pronouncement only seconds earlier never happened. “Show me.”

Together they spent the next few hours, watching holovids, making notes of moves that they could work into a routine.

* * * *

“Tech, you’re on the schedule two times,” Wrecker pointed out the next morning when he came for his breakfast.

“I am?” squeaked the pilot engineer. His voice only did that when something personal and unexpected happened. The brothers said nothing, but several smiles hid behind hands as the man squirmed. “Omega said nothing about practicing with me. I die early by a single blow.”

“She may want you to see what she’s going to do so you’re not hurt, Tech,” said Hunter pointed out softly.

“That is logical,” the genius brother replied slowly.

“Logical or not, she has you down for tonight and tomorrow night. Get ready,” Wrecker warned. “I don’t know what she has planned, but it’s gonna be more than you expected.”

“For sure,” Hunter agreed, to the amusement of the others, as Tech’s eyes grew wide. The brothers were teasing him, but then again…

* * * *

“Tech, you’re the first one on the beach. The others will still be on the pier. You really won’t be looking around because you’ll be studying maps as if you had your data pad. You’ll have several rolled up in your arms. Oh! Do you still have those glasses you wore when you returned to us? The ones with the wire rims?”

“I do,” he answered, so far not disturbed by anything she’d said. “I even secured the ear pieces so that when I die, the glasses will not come off. Otherwise, I would miss seeing the rest of the play. And I have located several rolls of what can pass as antique maps.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“Omega, might I ask what you expect me to do in this play?” He sat on a crate, his data pad lying beside him.

“First off, you’ll be at the helm of the ship. I know you can guide her in. I’ve seen you do it when you and Phee go out.” She ignored the blush that settled across her brother’s cheeks. “Once the boat glides in next to the dock, you direct Wrecker to tie it off. Then you gather your maps and start down the pier, paying no attention to what’s going on. Oblivious, I think is the proper word.”

“I can do that,” Tech agreed solemnly.

Omega held in her laughter so as not to embarrass or anger her brother, but oblivious was his usual way of proceeding through life. Not always but a lot of times. 

She went to the far end of the shed where she’d placed two crates about six feet apart. Turning, she called to Tech. “Watch. I’m you. I’ll walk off the pier, turning more to the left…that will get you out of the way of the others coming off the pier. You’ll be looking at the maps. Then you hear the Warrior Woman coming across the sand. Immediately, you reach for a pistol stuck in your sash. Clumsy and ineffective. You don’t carry a sword.” She advanced a few feet, her arms positioned as if she held maps. “You have little time to pull out your pistol before the warrior slashes at your neck, immediately killing you.”

Tech sat quietly. “And how do I bleed if I may ask?” Naturally, his mind was further down the line than Omega’s.

She came to him and held her hand as if it were the sword blade. With a chop, she halted it where his neck sloped into his shoulder. “I’ll go for that spot. I’ve already asked the seamstress to insert a thick piece of leather there in your costume so you can lay the blood packet on top, just under your jacket. When I hit your shoulder—and I really must hit you—the packet should burst, and you bleed out the side of your neck.”

“Oh,” was all Tech could manage. Omega had actually thought that out without him.

“Come on, follow me.” Picking up her stick, she led him to stand between the crates. “Pretend you have an armload of maps. You’re looking at them. Walk naturally. Come forward a little to the left ten steps so you’re at the beach edge of the stage. When you reach that last step, look up and see me.”

“What facial expression should I display?” he asked as he took up his position. “I really should have brought something to hold,” he muttered.

“Bring something tomorrow,” Omega encouraged. “When you see me, first it’s a surprise. But you’re a pirate so you’ll give me a dark look then scramble for your pistol.” She looked at him, his arms held out before him as if he were hugging something, his imitation of maps. “Ready?”

“Yes, proceed.”

“I believe it’s your game here, brother. You proceed.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Tech put his head down and shuffled his hands around as if rearranging maps. He counted exactly ten steps.

Omega mentally counted as well, and when he took the final step, she dropped another stick, the noise startling her brother. He looked up, saw her, drew his brows together, and narrowed his eyes into slits. As Omega raised her stick, he reached for his imaginary pistol tucked into the waistband of his pants. Before he could pull it and take a shot, however, she approached and slashed his neck. She pulled the attack though because nothing protected him now.

“Outstanding!” she yelled, her enthusiasm startling Tech. “Now crumple to the side, and lay there facing the stage area.”

This wasn’t something Tech had ever given thought to so his dying collapse was less than stellar.

Omega fell to laughing so hard she had to hold her sides. “You look like a dying flower, sort of wilting.” Off she went into another gale of giggles. She held out her hand to Tech and helped him stand, trying to control her mirth.

“I see no reason for such merriment,” Tech said with a huff, brushing his sleeves as if he’d fallen into a pile of poodoo.

“Sorry, little brother, but that was sort of funny.” She turned him so he faced back to the beginning of his entrance. “May I suggest something like this?”

“Certainly…if I can avoid making a fool of myself.”

For a second, Omega wondered if her laughter might shut down the entire project because she hurt his feelings. Quickly she bounded forward and threw her arms around his neck, her head just below his chin rather than at his chest level.

“I’m so proud of you for doing this. I know it makes you uncomfortable, but that only makes me love you more,” she said with a slight catch in her words.

The man allowed that gesture for only a few seconds before he said, “That’s enough emotions, young lady. Show me how to die properly please.” He patted her back before loosening her arms and setting her back, holding both arms much as Hunter usually did.

Omega began her walk, her focus on the imaginary maps in her arms. She counted ten steps then looked up. Pretending she saw the island warrior, she dropped the maps, attempting to pull a pistol out of her waistband. Then she lunged sideways, showing Tech the blow. Her eyes closed, she gasped as the blade dug deep. Eyes still closed, she sank to her knees, her hands loose at her side. Once on her knees and calves, she simply fell over sideways.

Tech actually applauded. “Bravo!” he shouted.

“Stop being silly, Tech,” Omega said with a blush as she stood. “Now once more please. Forward, pistol, sword, amazing death.”

* * * *

“Where’s Omega?” Wrecker asked as he brought out the dish he’d prepared that evening. The brothers took turns cooking though Wrecker and Crosshair usually did the most.

“Maybe she’s at Lyana’s,” Tech said as he took his seat at the table on the patio. The sun was beginning to sink into the sea, and the breeze was warm.

“She commed not long ago, saying she had something to do. Probably something about the play,” Hunter said as he too took a seat. “She’ll show up sooner or later.”

Cross, however, said nothing. The two of them had discussed sword moves that day though his first workout with Omega wasn’t until the next day. She’d seemed disturbed, her thoughts not on the play. If she’d been in trouble, she’d have immediately gone to Hunter. Apparently, she hadn’t. Perhaps the problem was Hunter. That girl loved the man as a daughter loves a father. Still, daughters and fathers didn’t always see eyes-to-eye—or so he’d observed among the island population.

He’d slip out later and find her.

* * * *

She sat on the rocks where she’d taught him to meditate. Her legs crossed, her hands up on her knees, Omega appeared the picture of serenity. Cross wasn’t so sure though.

He eased up next to her left side, making just enough noise to let her know someone was coming. He assumed the same position and scanned the bay, seeing a brilliant sunset, colors ghosting out over the water. Birds called as they dipped among the waves. The air smelled of salt and fish.

He cut a fast glance her way…then did a double take.

Omega sat with eyes closed, tears flooding down her cheeks. And she’d been at it for awhile. Her nose ran almost as much as her tears.

This had nothing to do with the play, he reasoned. Something more personal maybe? But what?

They sat in silence—an awkward one for Cross—for at least fifteen minutes, the sun barely a bit of golden color on the horizon. He wasn’t sure how long he’d need to sit with her, but he wasn’t leaving until he knew what was causing such heartache. Because her heart was clearly breaking.

“Cross?”

“Humm?”

“How old are you—genetically by Kaminoan standards.”

Both sat with eyes closed.

“On Kamino, I’d be near your age…maybe fifteen. Sixteen.”

“So with the aging process, you’re now how old if you compare yourself to the natborn?”

“I don’t know. Never thought about it.” He rubbed the area on the right side of his head where soft silver curls covered scars. “I guess I’d be about thirty, thirty-five maybe? Rex and Echo would be a little older.”

He looked at his little sister, his answers not quelling her tears. “What’s this really all about, Megs?”

“Tech returned to us alive after having every major bone and organ broken in that fall on Eriadu. He still says a Jedi healer saved him. He’s not as strong as he once was physically, but mentally he’s as sharp as ever.”

“O-kay,” Cross drawled, having no idea where her thought processes were going. She resembled Tech in that way at the moment.

“The Techno Union rebuilt Echo, saving his life, but he’s more machine than flesh now. When they did what they did, I think they also messed with the clone aging process. He looks exactly like he did years ago when I first met him.”

Cross could guess where she was headed now.

“And there’s you…tortured, experimented on at Tantiss like you were on Kamino. I wonder if that didn’t change your aging process as well.”

Omega heaved a long heavy sigh and opened her eyes, still not looking at Cross.

“What about Wrecker and Hunter?” Cross had a feeling this had to do with the two brothers getting old.

“Wrecker was hurt when the Empire took me from Pabu and then horribly hurt during our fight on Tantiss. His breathing comes hard if pushed. He aches. He wears out quickly.”

“And Hunter?” Cross figured they were coming to the heart of the matter.

“He’s got gray in his beard and mustache. His hair has gray too. He’s lost weight and walks slightly stooped when he’s tired. He hurt his back on Tantiss, and it bothers him every day,” she whispered, her tone filled with anguish.

“We’re dying right before your eyes, aren’t we?” He stated the truth without emotion. She had enough of that without him adding to it.

“I don’t want to lose you. You’re my family, my brothers. You’re all I have. Life has no meaning or purpose without all of you,” she mourned, her breath now coming in hard sobs. “I…I never realized it until I practiced with Tech, Wrecker and…Hunter.” She lifted her head and tossed her long blonde ponytail. “They’re getting old, and I’ve asked them to exert themselves more than is good.”

“You know we’d do anything for you.”

She nodded, her head down.

“Did they turn you away when you asked them to be pirates?”

She shook her head, her chin going even lower.

“They’re getting a kick out of it. Enjoying every minute.”

“But it’s hard for them, Cross. I’m not helping them live longer.”

“Omega, I saw a holovid the other day. The man made a lot of sense, and you need to hear what he said,” Cross turned toward her a little so he could see her face. “Look at me, ad’ika. (Little one)”

When Omega finally turned to him, she lifted her face with flushed, puffed up cheeks, snotty nose, swollen eyes.

“Love…is our greatest joy and our deepest wound.” He let that sink in.

“We love you. You love us. That is great joy. When we thought we lost Tech that was a deep wound because we loved him deeply. When someone is here and you love them, love them with all your might. When they are gone, remember that joy, even though the loss will leave a deep burning pain in your heart.”

She nodded, understanding on her face. She sniffed and continued to study him.

He cast his focus out over the darkened bay. “Great grief only comes from great love. We will die, Omega. All of us will,” he said with a gesture out toward the island. “The greater the love, the deeper the grief. Our heart builds new experiences around that wound every day. The wound never goes away, the missing, the grief, but life fills our hearts with other things so that we can remember without falling apart…like you’re doing now.” He turned back to her, his next words shocking but honest. “You’re grieving in advance, giving yourself no chance of loving each day. You need to stop that…right…now.”

Though her eyes widened, Omega let out another sigh and returned to her mediation position. Cross did as well. She flipped his hand over as she did that first time and rested her larger palm against his even larger one. Instinctively, because they shared a history of torture and fear, they entwined fingers and held on to each other.

Cross added one last thing that she might have never thought of. “See this from our side, little sister. You won’t spend the rest of your life with us, but we…” he paused, “…get to spend the rest of our lives with you.”

The tears that had slowed returned, silent tracks of despair tinged with a bit of hope for the future.

Another bit of time passed then Cross unfolded his legs. “Tech dies first so he won’t wear out. Wrecker dies next so he won’t start wheezing. Hunter dies next so he doesn’t have to fight too long and hurt his back more.”

She shot a quick guilty look up at him and nodded.

“And me?”

“You do the mean and nasty look so perfectly, brother,” she reminded him with a lift to her lips, a small smile touching her tear-ravaged face.

“Get cleaned up, and let’s go home. It’s dark enough that no one will see you. And if you’re lucky, you can go straight to your room. I’ll cover for you.”

She nodded again and used the sleeve on her right arm to wipe away the tears from her eyes and cheeks. She then used the sleeve of her left arm to wipe her nose, first to the left then to the right.

“Eww, Megs. You’re a young woman. You know better,” he fussed as he moved to her right side.

“Wrecker does it all the time,” she justified her actions.

“You are not Wrecker.”

He held out a hand. “I’ll help you up, but I’m not touching that snotty arm and hand,” he declared.

As solemn as the evening was for the two, he’d added a final touch of levity to it. She grinned, grabbed his flesh hand with her tearstained right hand and let him pull her up.

“Hey, Crosshair.”

“Humm?” he said as they followed the path to the island’s wider road.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Omega, but let’s keep that between us,” he answered with a small grin aimed her way.

“Yeah, so no one will think you have a soft heart.” She giggled and hugged his arm with her tearstained and snotty ones.

“Humph!”

* * * *

“We have to make this look good. Convincing. Otherwise, we did all this for nothing,” Omega said as she and Cross stood side by side in the shed. She’d already showed him how to hold his sword. They still used the stout sticks and would until Cross became more proficient. But the swords were ready. Hunter had done an excellent job of carving them.

Cross had programmed the data pad with the moves they wanted to make. They had to practice since their duel was longer and more complicated. He hefted the stick and swung it around his arm, using his cyber hand. Then he swung the stick behind his back then across his body.

“Well, someone’s been watching the holovids,” Omega complimented him as she stepped up beside him. “Let’s see if we’ve been watching the same one, brother,” she challenged.

With room enough between them to avoid injury, they moved in sync as each first curved their stick around their hand then behind their backs then across their bodies, going faster and faster each time. When the short exercise ended, they grinned at each other like moon-yos. Silly pleased grins that started the morning off well.

“Let’s begin,” Omega said as she moved opposite Cross. Hand out to the side, sword facing the opponent, each bent ever so slightly forward. “First, we circle each other.”

“Watch the eyes,” Cross reminded her.

The two circled to the left, sidestepping at least three times then paused.

“Now we lunge, high then low then mid,” she instructed. “Let’s go slowly so we don’t kill each other with these sticks. Wrecker, Hunter and even Tech will tell you that they hurt when you get whacked with one.”

Frozen in their positions, Omega said, “You’re first to attack. Slowly, Cross. Slowly,” she cautioned.

Cross lunged forward, hitting her blade high to one side then high to the other.

“Now low.”

Again, he attacked, doing the same lunge only closer to the knees.

“Now mid.”

He struck even with his waist, her chest. Back and forth they moved.

“I’ll move you back now,” Omega instructed. The same process with Omega advancing and Cross back stepping, eyes still glued to each other.

“Now that cut to my legs, and we hold blades for a few seconds.”

This time when Omega finished her last lunge toward his middle, Cross swung low in an attempt to cut her legs out from under her. The timing was off though, and he whacked her a good one on her left calf.

“Ow! Kriff, that hurt!” Omega stumbled over to a crate and sat down, rubbing the side of her leg.

“Break anything?” Cross was concerned. His eyes showed that, but he wasn’t about to coddle her if it wasn’t necessary.

“No, but that wasn’t much fun. Timing is everything,” she grumbled as she still rubbed her sore leg.

“Wanna quit?”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” she grinned at hm. “You think a smack is gonna make me forget this whole thing?” She stood and took up her position in the middle of the floor. “I don’t think so, Captain Cross,” she smirked and motioned for him to come for her again. “From the beginning. Slowly, brother,” she emphasized again.

After practicing more, the lunges looked a bit more natural even in slow motion. Omega anticipated the leg lunge and jumped too soon. Cross overbalanced and wound up going down on his backside. However, the two did better than before. They managed to get through her jump and to the point where she held her blade high, double-handed across his while Cross pushed down.

By the time an hour passed, both were sweating. Omega bore a bruise on the side of her leg and her knuckles bled where their sticks slid together. Cross rubbed his sore arm just under his shoulder joint but refused to tell his sister how much his tailbone ached. Omega had managed to get him several times as well as in the neck. Thankfully, she pulled the stick before delivering a possibly horrific blow. Still both were sore and tired.

“Again this evening, Cross. We have a lot of work to do,” she huffed as she swirled her stick once more.

“Together?” Cross said as he moved up beside her. “Just for the heck of it?”

With a grin from her and a small lift of his lips, the two repeated the swirling sword exercise they enjoyed that morning.

* * * *

“The next move is that run under and over the shoulder bit,” Cross said the next morning. The previous evening they continued to go slowly, both still tired and a bit sore.

“Let me see. I’m not sure at what point I duck,” Omega said as she leaned over his shoulder. He held up the pad so they could both see as he ran the sequence again, stopping at the spot that should be added.

“Okay, lunge, jump, hold, swirl around, attack. Got it.” She paused before taking her position. “I forgot about the swirl after holding your blade. We need to add that.” She sighed, “This is a lot to remember. No wonder those Jedi practiced for years.”

Circle, lunge, swirl and lunge, duck and back to back. The work in progress was slow. So many steps to remember but both knew in order to make it look realistic, they had to practice until the moves were second nature.

“Enough for today. I have to help Wrecker at the docks,” Cross said as he rubbed his shoulder again. “At least we didn’t add any more bruises.”

“Yeah, the ones from yesterday are plenty for me,” Omega agreed. “I’m going to the dressmakers and see if our costumes are ready. We really need to practice in them. I’m sure it’s not the same as regular day clothes.”

The two parted company, Omega carrying both sticks.

* * * *

Omega practically bounced in her chair that evening at the late meal. “The costumes are ready. I brought them home with me this morning. I couldn’t carry all of them, but Mistress Wen helped. There’s a lot to sort out. I have them all in my room. I want them to be a surprise. I’ll bring them as we practice so we can get used to moving in them.”

The brothers shot glances at each other, wondering what sort of costumes their little sister created for each of them. They’d find out soon enough at practice because she was not giving away this particular secret.

* * * *

Omega scheduled practice for each of her brothers starting with Tech. She carried her clothes bag as well as his as they made their way to the shed the next morning.

“Tech, here’s your costume. I’ll just step over here behind these crates and put on mine,” she said diplomatically because she feared he might balk at dressing in front of her. He’d always had a bit of a problem undressing in front of her.

“Ready?” she called as she stepped out from behind the crates. “Oh, kriffin’ stars!” she whispered as she beheld her brainy brother in a costume that suited him perfectly. He’d brought some wire-rimmed glasses, rolls of paper and stood there looking unsure. Omega walked around him, admiring the blue of his long jacket, the ornamental broach at his throat, holding together a long full-sleeved shirt with brass buttons down the front. His dark blue pants stopped at the knees. Stockings ran down his legs into shoes that clearly befitted a pirate. She reached out and pulled a bit of his receding hair forward over his forehead.

“Oh, Tech, you look wonderful,” she sighed. “I do so hate to kill you off so quickly before everyone has a chance to admire how handsome you are.” Her sincere words and the love that beamed from her eyes let Tech know her words were not just empty praise.

“Thank you, sister.” He patted his costume shirt. “I do fit the description of a pirate, do I not,” he confirmed. “Now let us get this short disagreement over so I can return to my work.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Omega saluted. She handed him the replica pistol that he tucked into his waistband before he gathered up an armload of maps.

He dropped the maps and attempted to pull the pistol out of his waistband as she raced toward him, stick raised. They had to practice several times because Tech had to learn where to place the pistol for easy withdrawal. Finally, they made it in realistic time through his entire scene from stepping onto the sand to his artfully engineered death.

While Omega sat comfortably on a crate beside her brother, Tech let out a few deep breaths. Once more, she realized how fragile he was after returning from what amounted to death on Eriadu. Quickly before he could withdraw, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“And what was that for, Miss Omega,” he asked, his brows high, his eyes wide behind the normal looking glasses.

“Just because I wanted to. Because I love you,” she said softly.

“In that case, I accept with pleasure,” he said with a slight lift of his lips that reminded her of Cross’ smile…or what passed for his smile.

“Now may I dress more appropriately for my morning’s work?”

“Yes, you may.”

“Omega?”

“Uh huh?”

“May I say what a becoming picture you make in your costume? Seeing you, I can believe in the possibility that a woman warrior did indeed protect Pabu Island and its treasure all those years ago.”

“Thank you, Tech,” she said softly as she stood and held out her hand, offering unneeded muscle but loving support to help him stand. “I hope the others are as receptive as you are. We’ll have to practice a few more times just to keep up our moves. The others too.”

“And how is Captain Cross doing?” Tech asked as he shed his coat and gave it to her.

“Actually I think Cross enjoys the whole duel thing. It fits his nature to be aggressive. But it also challenges him to look hostile without actually being violent. He’s got the look and temperament. I think you’ll be quite proud of him.”

“Indeed,” Tech agreed.

* * * *

Wrecker loved his costume, being as it consisted of a pair of knee pants, a colorful sash, heavy shoes, and a sword in a scabbard slung across his wide chest. At the dressmaker’s suggestion, Omega added a broad band for his left bicep and a sparkly bracelet for his right wrist. She showed him how to clip the gold circles on to his ears so he looked like a real pirate. The big guy was so taken with his costume that he wanted to show the others, but she forbid him, finally convincing him that their jaws would drop when finally seeing how great he looked on the day of the play. Even without the costume, he glowed with delight.

Hunter dressed in his knee pants, high boots, long hanging purple and red sash, and leather wrist cuffs with a matching bandana to hold back his hair. A frown instantly settled on his face.

“Uh, Megs…” he began but paused.

Omega wasn’t surprised, but she wanted to see how he’d react to the costume she’d created for him. “Yes, Hunter?” she asked innocently.

“We’ve undressed around each other for years…” he stopped and nodded toward her. “At least until recently when you became such a female.” That sounded odd, but she knew what he meant.

“Yes?” He wanted to tell her something—she knew what it was—but she wanted him to say it aloud.

“So my tattoo isn’t anything new to you but others…” Again, he stopped, sucked up a big breath and finished. “Others have never seen this before.” He gestured to his tattooed ribs that resembled a skeleton, matching the one on the side of his face. The tattoos ran down from under his collarbone to his waist.

He didn’t want others seeing that. She had thought of that ahead of time…just in case. With Hunter, she sometimes didn’t know how far he’d go for her. In matters of life and death, she had no doubts he’d go to the ends of the galaxy for her. But this?

She relented with a smile, ready to save him any embarrassment. “I thought you might feel uncomfortable so I added this to your costume.” She pulled out a long leather vest, securely buttoned at the waist. Split at each side, pirate Hunter would have no trouble fighting her. “If you’d rather, you can use that sash around the vest and use this for your pants,” she said as she held up a leather belt. 

He stepped in front of her and took both the vest and belt then leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “You are something else, kid. You know that, right?”

She nodded with a wide grin as he dressed. When she returned from behind the crate, wearing her outfit, his eyes went wide. For a second, she could have sworn his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Kriff it all. You look wonderful, kid. Any pirate attacking this island would rather kiss you than kill you, that’s for sure.” Suddenly he realized what he said, and color washed through his body, visible even down across his chest. “You know what I mean,” he huffed as he took up his stick. “By the way, the swords are ready whenever you are.”

Wrecker, Tech, and Hunter…loving their costumes. She still had Echo and cranky Captain Cross to go.

Echo’s costume consisted of a long sleeve shirt, knee pants, long boots, a leather belt and a sword in a scabbard at his side. A scarf would wrap around his head. He wanted to strut around the house in his costume as much as Wrecker did. However, Omega warned him of dire consequences if he even talked about it much less showed it off.

“You four will dress in the shed before stepping into that boat so you can ooh and ahh each other all you want. Preen to your heart’s content. But for now, this is a secret,” she warned the brothers later.

“But nobody’s gonna see me!” Echo protested. “I’m not coming in on the boat.”

“No, you aren’t, silly man! You’re going to be front and center for all to see and admire while the audience is being seated. You’re the narrator, remember. You’ll be seen much longer than the rest of us.”

At that, Echo calmed and assumed a dignified air. “I can wait then.”

Four brothers down. One to go. Omega hefted the heavy clothes bag with hers and Cross’ costumes as she wondered how her snarky brother would take to the costume she designed for him. In some ways, it was practical and fit the part of a pirate, but two details added flash, and that’s what he might object to. Then again, like a needy cat, he soaked up adoration when given from acceptable sources. She hoped he liked the entire costume. It was so Captain Cross.

* * * *

“What the kriff is all this?” Crosshair pulled back his head as if he smelled something bad. His arms immediately went across his chest as he lowered his brows at his sister.

“Don’t make me explain this to you, Cross. You can see what it is. You are going to look amazingly threatening while at the same time you’re going to make the ladies want to play around with pirates.”

“Omega!” Cross yelled his indignation, his eyes wide.

She gave into laughter, seeing him so worked up about a costume. “Come on. Try it on. I won’t tell anyone. Besides, it’s gonna grow on you. Sooner or later as we practice, you’re going to forget how handsome you look and just wear it like regular clothes.

“Omega,” Cross drawled as he pointed to the outfit. “Those are purple!”

“I know! Isn’t that fabulous,” she crooned, just to aggravate him. Unlike Tech who might have walked out if she’d have hurt his feelings, this brother was now invested in the play. He actually enjoyed working on their duel. “At least put on the pants, boots, shirt and belt.”

When she turned her big brown eyes on him, he knew he was a goner. Stronger men than he might have resisted those tooka eyes, but he wasn’t one of them.

The pants were black as were the knee-high boots. His red leather scabbard hung from the wide belt. The cream-colored shirt fit close to his body though Omega and the dressmaker made sure there was room across the shoulders and at the waist for him to move while using his sword. Patches of purple looked like hinges at the shirt’s elbows. A double row of red buttons ran down the front edges of the shirt, stopping halfway up his chest. While Hunter’s vest opened all the way to his belt, Cross’ costume didn’t expose as much of the sniper’s chest. Deep purple gloves that came up well passed his wrists fit over the ends of the sleeves.

Omega sat with her back to Cross as he changed though he told her it wasn’t necessary. “I want to be surprised when I see you,” she told him.

“I look silly,” he finally muttered.

When she turned around though, her imagination was vindicated. Her vision of him as a pirate captain stood living and breathing in front of her.

“Oh, Cross,” she whispered. “You look magnificent. I knew you’d be the perfect captain.”

Though he didn’t preen, his shoulders relaxed, and he stopped fidgeting.

“Can I at least see how the cape and hat look?” she begged.

“I suppose, but they’ll look ridiculous too.”

Easing off the crate where she sat, she lifted the deep purple cape, fluffed it out then eased it around Cross’ shoulders. Two buttons on each side of his collar held the fabric to him. She walked behind him, straightening it so it flowed down his sides.

To his surprise, she went behind another crate and pulled out a long mirror.

“I borrowed this from Mistress Wen so all of you can check your costumes before you sail to the beach.” She turned it toward him. “What do you think?”

Cross looked funny for a second or so, not used to seeing himself in a costume. Eventually he twisted to the left then to the right, grabbing the edge of the cape and holding it out. “It’ll do, I suppose.”

Holding in her smile of delight, she propped the mirror against a crate and lifted out the final piece of his costume. “I think Captain Cross is a man who wants to give off an air of authority and refinement though what pirate can say he’s ever really refined.” She held out the hat with both hands as if presenting a crown.

Cross sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Do I have to?”

“Would you wear this for me?”

His shoulders once more slumped. He opened his eyes and gave her a sharp glare. “You get away with too much, you know that, right?”

“But you love me,” she persisted, taking a step forward, still holding out the hat.

“Oh, for the love of the Maker. Give me that kriffin’ thing, and let’s get this over with,” he bellowed as he snatched the wide-brimmed light purple hat from her hands. A deep purple feather lying in the band popped up and waved gently from one side where the hat curved up.

“The curve on the brim is on the right side, Cross, so your sword won’t get caught in it.”

Once the hat settled on his silver hair, Cross became another man. One who wanted to take over a group of people and find treasure on a paltry island in the middle of nowhere.

He ran his fingers along the curve of the brim.

Omega had no idea what he was thinking, but she saw the change and applauded, if silently, so has not to piss off her brother.

“I don’t think the hat will be a bother during our duel,” he commented softly. “Here’s what I’m thinking,” he said then proceeded to show her what he planned on doing.

Omega clapped her hands. “Perfect!” Then she added, “And when the play is over…”

“Let me get dressed then we can go through the duel,” she said as she scurried behind her dressing crate as she called it.

By that time, they’d perfected their performance. Now it was only a matter of practicing and smoothing any rough spots.

The duel that day went magnificently, both in their character mode. When they finished for the day, Cross stepped back, swept off his hat and bowed to Omega.

For her part, she threw herself into his arms, both of them delighted with the whole idea of pirates and warrior women.

* * * *

Using swords prevented, or at least reduced, injuries. Each one had a guard at the hilt that prevented the swords from clashing into hands and mashing fingers. Polished with a gray color, each sword looked like metal. Echo carried a sword though he would never use it. His sword was merely part of his pirate costume. Tech carried a pistol while Hunter and Wrecker used swords. Omega kept them in the schedule for fear Wrecker might forget his moves while Tech’s pistol might get tangled in his sash. Hunter’s duel was longer, and she didn’t want either of them hurt so the best way to prevent that was to practice.

Cross carried a handsome sword with a long narrow blade. The hilt was a swerve of would-be metal, curving up and below the sword and protecting his hand even though it was his cybernetic one. Hunter put more decorations on Omega’s blade. A double curve of metal-like wood protected her hand. She had to slip her hand into the curves that helped ensure she’d not lose the sword easily. Wrecker’s sword was plain with a cross piece so Omega’s blade wouldn’t come down on his hand. The same for Echo’s. Hunter designed his sword with a half bubble guard on it. His hand too slipped into place, easier to hold.

By now, with only two weeks to go, Omega and Cross had gotten through the entire routine. They were doing their moves in real time, using swords instead of sticks. Occasionally one of them missed a step. When performing one section, Omega managed to stab Cross’ neck while he whacked her on top of the head. They shook off such things and went at it, throwing in comments that fit the action. Only one line was necessary, and that was Omega’s. By now, they’d settled into a dialogue that worked for them and what they were doing.

* * * *

One evening, when Omega and Cross had extra energy, they walked out on the patio with their swords. Without a word, they moved to an open area, aware that Hunter, Wrecker, Echo and Tech followed them.

With a slight nod to each other, they went through what they considered their warm up routine. Swirls with the right hand, swirls behind their backs, over and across their bodies then switching hands for a final set of curving moves. Silent and deadly were those moves. Beautiful and mesmerizing.

When they finished, they bowed to each other, just as those who performed the Jedi moves on the data pad did at the end of practice.

Turning to face the brothers, they waited. Stunned silence, moving mouths that opened and closed without a word.

“I have never witnessed anything so solemn and yet so beautiful as that demonstration,” Tech finally managed to say. “I am indeed sorry that I never witnessed Generals Skywalker or Kenobi or Commander Tano perform such a routine. However, this is perhaps even better because my brother and sister did it.”

“What he said,” Wrecker whispered, his eye opened wide, his face still wearing a stunned expression.

“That was amazing. Like a work of art,” Echo barely managed to say.

“What they said,” was all Hunter could say.

Omega and Cross nodded to each other again than joined hands and took a bow. That broke the solemness and set the family to laughing. The evening’s activity boded well for the coming performance.

Chapter Text

The day finally arrived. The Batchers’ home hummed with nervous excitement. Seemed no one could sleep. However, no one spoke either. Each one grabbed a cup of caf or tea and ate a hasty breakfast. The play would begin at mid-morning, giving the audience time to rise, eat then make their way to the beach.

Deke and his buddies, along with Lyana, were in charge of roping off the beach and creating the path that Omega would walk.

Other than making sure each set of costumes was ready, the six sat around the house in slight nervous tension. Omega would dress at the house but wrap up in a cloak with a deep hood. She’d go down to the beach with Rex and Phee who would join her after the brothers left.

“Brothers and sister, I have researched how actors prepare for opening day…not that we shall repeat this performance, but we should honor the traditions of those who have gone before us,” Tech stated, his data pad for once left in his bedroom.

“I’m not going to like this,” Cross intoned in a waspish voice from where he leaned against the wall.

“Be that as it may, Crosshair, I think we should not anger the Maker on this our one and only performance day.” Tech spoke seriously, so seriously in fact that the others realized he wasn’t joking.

“So what do we do?” Hunter asked who, like Crosshair, wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with what others called tradition.

“We stand in a circle and hold out a hand, each on top of the others, signifying solidarity. Unity of purpose. One of us offers words of good wishes and a key word to remember. We raise our collective hands and come down, repeating that specific word.”

“That’s silly,” Cross said.

“But you’ll do it for me, won’t you?” asked Omega, her face drawn tight with nerves.

A slight eye roll and a deep heave of his chest preceded his nod. The sun came out on her face, and her fears disappeared.

“Shall we?” Tech asked expectantly, stepping to the center of their large front room, his hand out.

“Come on, family. We can’t kark this up now,” Hunter said half jokingly, stepping up beside Tech and laying his hand on top of the engineer/pilot’s.

Echo and Wrecker joined in, leaving room for Omega and Crosshair.

She turned her eyes to him, begging him to do this for her. For them.

“Move over, Wrecker,” Cross said as he bumped the big man with his hip and entered the circle, hand out.

It seemed only fitting that Omega stepped into the circle last, her hand on top of the others.

“Omega, this was your idea. Any good words for us today,” Hunter asked.

She gave it a thought then let her gaze travel around the circle. “We’re family, and we do this together. We’re ready. And we’re going to be amazing.” She took a slight intake of breath and let it out. “For Pabu.”

As if they were professionals who had done this a thousand times, the family raised their hands then dropped them, with a jubilant cry, “For Pabu.”

* * * *

The brothers left, each carrying a clothes bag. Each wore an expression of slight anxiety. Omega saw them off, assuring them that they were going to be great. She sent them off early, knowing they needed time to check out each other’s costumes. While each one looked dashing, she worried that one of the brothers—maybe Wrecker—would make fun of Cross and send him off in a huff. She’d ask them about that adventure when the world settled back into a normal post-play routine.

She dashed to her room and began dressing. Like several of her brothers, her costume consisted of long breeches in deep gold, wide red inserts down the outer legs. The top of her long brown boots turned down to show bright leather insides. The breeches tucked into her boots. Her cream-colored blouse came together over her chest with red cords that wove through the holes, holding the blouse closed, rather than buttons. Lace peaked out of her cuffs, adding a touch of femininity. Her butter-colored long coat that went almost to her knees fastened at the waist with a row of red buttons going down across her chest to stop at a wide leather belt that held her scabbard on her left side.

Early on, Tech argued that a woman should use a pistol, but the Island legend insisted the Warrior Woman used a sword. The scabbard lay over her jacket so she could get to the sword easier.

She pulled her bright blonde hair high on the back of her head into its usual ponytail and secured it so it wouldn’t come loose during the duel with the pirate captain. She’d just finished dressing when she heard a knock on the front door.

Without waiting for anyone to say Enter, Omega heard both Rex and Phee.

“Where are you, island girl?” Phee called out.

“Coming.” Omega grabbed her sword and tall boots and padded into the large front room in her sock feet. Wide-eyed silence met her.

“Moon-yos got your tongues,” she asked, teasing the man and woman as she sat to pull on her soft boots. Dressed at last, she slid her sword into the scabbard and stood ready in front of her friends.

“Megs, I don’t know what to say,” Rex said, rubbing his head, a trait he often did when he simply couldn’t find appropriate words.

“You look amazing,” whispered Phee, walking around Omega, checking out the costume.

“Have the Batch seen your outfit yet?” Rex asked as his smile grew into a full-blown grin.

“Uh huh? Why?”

“I can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm someone who looks like you do,” he gestured up and down at her.

“Is that the same thing as what Hunter said?” she asked with a wicked smirk.

“What did Bandana say?” Phee asked, her hands on her hips, her expression clearly showing she’d skin the man with his own vibroknife if he laughed at her.

“Oh, he said any pirate who tried to come to the island and saw me would rather kiss me than kill me,” Omega said nonchalantly, her eyes twinkling.

“Oh, for Maker’s sake,” Rex groaned, one hand facepalming. “I can’t believe he said that.”

Phee sniffed, “Sounds like something a man would say. But I bet he blushed and apologized.”

“Yep. But it was cute seeing him go all red,” the teen admitted.

“You are a wicked woman,” Rex admonished good-naturedly.

“I was trained by the best so you better believe it,” Omega giggled, nerves making the sound a bit tinny.

Phee glanced at her chrono. “Time to get this show on the road…literally.” She turned to Omega. “Can I give you a hug without messing up your costume?”

“I’ve practiced in it for weeks so I doubt it can get messed up. And yes,” Omega admitted with a tiny catch in her voice. “I’d like a few hugs about now.”

Like a magnet, the three drew together in a group hug that felt warm and affirming.

Rex kissed her cheek then leaned in to touch his forehead to hers in a Keldabe kiss. “You’ll do great today, kid.”

Phee kissed the other cheek, her eyes a bit watery. “Yeah, what he said,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

“Let’s do this then,” Omega said as she reached for the long cloak lying over the back of the chair.

Whirling it around her shoulders, she fastened the clasp at the neck, pulled the hood far over her head, took a deep breath, and followed Rex as he held the door open for the two women.

The play was nearing its beginning.

* * * *

The audience sat on dry sand, chatting among themselves. Everyone on the island must have come. For such a huge crowd the noise was minimal. The actors’ voices would have to carry as far as possible, and the audience was aware of that even though the play hadn’t started yet.

No pirates to be seen yet, but kids—of all ages—kept a sharp eye open.

As time neared, Omega, Rex and Phee moved into position at the back of the audience. Few if any noticed her, so well did the long cloak disguise her. She held one of Rex’s hands and one of Phee’s. Slowly she breathed deeply, blowing out each breath through her mouth. Just as slowly, she sank into her character—the island’s Warrior Woman, there to protect the island’s treasure.

Finally, Pabu’s mayor, Shep Hazard, stepped onto the sandy stage area and raised his hands for attention. Silence fell like a rock, deep and receptive.

“Welcome! We’re here today to watch a play about Pabu Island and its treasure. Long-time residents have seen this play before. But those who are new have not. I know you’re excited to see what’s going to happen so I’ll turn the stage over to our narrator.”

Shep gestured to his left, and out walked Echo, respondent in his costume, a red scarf wrapped around his head, pale blue shirt with wide collar tucked into knee pants. His sword hung in the scabbard on his left side. But the most spectacular part of his costume was the hook he’d created with Tech’s help that attached to his right arm rather than his usual scomp attachment.

The audience oohed and ahhed when he showed up. He made his way to the middle of the stage and held up both hands, the hook quite prominent.

“So begins our tale. The Treasure of Pabu Island. Pirates threaten to find and keep the treasure. Only one person stands between them and that prize. The island’s Warrior Woman is there to prevent the pirates from taking over. But is she strong enough to survive a crew that’s out to kill her? Will the villainous captain find the treasure, or will the island woman save the day? Let us find out.” He gestured to the sea. “There, coming around the headlands, a boat. Pirates!”

Echo moved back to the side of the stage and took a seat on a conveniently placed keg.

The audience remained seated, but necks craned to see the boat slowly making its way to the small dock. When the helmsman ordered the crewman to tie up the lines, that was Omega’s cue.

* * * *

The pirates took their time leaving the boat. The helmsman stepped out onto the dock first, his arms loaded with map scrolls. With his tiny glasses and neat appearance in a long blue coat and wide collar, with a broach at the throat of his shirt, and shiny brass buttons, he appeared rather scholarly.

He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and gathered his maps more securely in his left arm. In his right, he carried what looked like some sort of compass. He consulted it then marched forward across the planks, confident in his direction but not truly paying attention to what was happening in front of him. He moved off to his left, studying the compass, oblivious to all else.

Eyes on the compass, he glanced up in time to see a light-colored blur on the run, headed in his direction. A woman, sword in hard, bore down on him, her blade raised, fury in her eyes.

Shock held the man still for only a heartbeat. He drew his brows together and narrowed his eyes into slits. Tucking his maps closer to his side, despite his scholarly appearance, his right hand sought the pistol tucked into his wide sash. But he wasn’t fast enough.

The woman’s sword came down at the corner of his neck and sank deep. Blood gushed as the man’s eyes rolled back in his head. A limp arm dropped the maps to lie like dried leaves rustling on the sand as the helmsman sank to his knees, his hands loose at his sides. Once on his knees and calves, he simply fell over sideways.

No time to celebrate an easy victory for the Warrior Woman though.

A hulking crewman came charging at her, sword held in both hands, death in his eyes. His bare chest glistened with sweat, his stout thighs filled his dark blue knee pants. Sturdy shoes hugged his large feet as they pounded the sand, headed for her. Sunlight bounced off the broad band he wore on his left bicep. A sparkly bracelet swung near the sword in his right hand while large gold hoops hung from each ear.

A scar covered one side of his head, and a white dead eye shone dully. This was a bruiser with muscles that could take down anyone.

The Warrior Woman backed up as he approached.

Without a word, the big man raised his sword and began his attack, hacking and slashing. Clearly, he was more used to pummeling opponents than using a sword to take out one. He lunged at her, swinging his sword like a hammer, up and down, side to side. The woman blocked him, parrying his sword, but it was obvious that he was bigger and stronger. She’d not last long. She’d have to finish him off quickly.

Watching his moves, she ducked several times, avoiding blows that could bash in her head. Finally, he raised his sword, using both hands in order to pound the woman if he could. That was her chance. She ducked under his arm, swirled around as she sliced his side, cutting through the sash and deep into the muscles. Blood burst out, flowing down the man’s side and onto his leg. Putting a large hand over his gory wound, the crewman flung his head back and wobbled then, like a tree falling, fell over sideways. He fell facing one way, still had enough life to turn, dragging himself over as if he might rise again, only to fall at last facing the sea and stage.

A hush fell as the Warrior Woman studied the two men left.

Echo the narrator:

The man with the map went down quite handily. The hulking crewmate went down after a short fight, but the first mate has murder in his eyes!

While the bruiser fought the woman, the first mate hung back on the dock, assuming the massive man would finish off the smaller person. But the helmsman fell to her, and now the biggest man on the ship was down! Loyalty to the captain meant that the first mate was duty-bound to finish off this nuisance.

His sword held in his right hand, skilled in using it, the man stalked toward the woman. He wasn’t going to assume he could beat her as handily as the crewman had thought. She was tough and a wickedly clever swordsman.

The woman watched the man approach, aware this one could actually use the sword he carried. His long hair moved in the breeze coming off the water, a wide band across his forehead holding the deep brown locks back from his face. The tails of the scarf twisted slightly in that faint breeze. A long slit-sided leather vest opened to his middle covered his broad chest and thighs. A wide purple and red sash secured the vest closed at his narrow waist. She might’ve considered the man handsome if it weren’t for the desire to kill her that emanated from his muscled body and slitted eyes.

A quick glance showed the captain still on the dock, watching. The Warrior Woman knew what he was thinking. No matter that he might be the last man standing out of his crew, he planned on being just that. The last man standing, one who would attempt to find the island’s treasure.

She breathed deeply as the first mate approached her. His wouldn’t be a rushed attack. His would be a planned one.

The first mate remained silent, fury in his eyes as he advanced. Two of his crew were dead. Their welfare was his responsibility, and this woman would pay for their deaths.

The woman asked herself questions as he approached. Was this man as skilled as his captain? A captain was always the most feared opponent. Did the first mate think he could simply overpower her with his weight and muscle? Did he forget that his burly crewmate had that same advantage yet still fell?

The man went after the Warrior Woman with brutal sword lunges that she managed to parry even as she backed up. Grabbing a small handful of sand, she tossed it toward the first mate’s eyes though the sand landed more on his neck and chest. However, the move surprised him and threw him off balance as intended. Dodging left then right, she managed to hold his sword at the hilt, their faces so close that their breaths mingled. With a growl, the first mate pushed her off, only to discover that she’d used his motion to swing behind his back. Back to back, they stood for only a heartbeat. With a brutal thrust of her sword, she shoved the blade into the man’s back, pushing it through the chest. Blood erupted from the back and front of the first mate’s shirt.

The Warrior Woman used a boot to push the man over, blood staining his shirt and the sand beneath him. Not willing to turn her back on the last person, she walked back some, keeping an eye on the captain, a tall slender man.

Echo the narrator: 

A sword through the chest for the swarthy first mate. Looks like our captain must handle this island warrior himself.

The captain gave her time to rest, an error on his part that she used to her advantage. Were all captains so arrogant? So vain? For this man was truly a sight.

His pants were black as were the knee-high boots. His red leather scabbard hung on his left side from a wide belt. A cream-colored shirt fit close to his body. Patches of purple covered the shirt’s elbows. A double row of red buttons ran down the front edges of the shirt, stopping halfway up his chest. Deep purple gloves that came up well passed his wrists fit over the ends of the sleeves. A deep purple cape flared out behind him, fluffed by the breeze. Two buttons held the cape together on each side of his collar. A wide-brimmed light purple hat sat upon his silver hair, a purple feather lying in the band gently waving from one side where the hat curved up. A curve intended to give the wearer an advantage when using a sword. The hat’s up-turned brim wouldn’t hinder the use of this man’s sword, the Warrior Woman knew.

Fury and disgust marred his narrow face.

“I’m Captain Cross. Who the hell are you?” he demanded, his sword in his right hand, his cape thrown back over his shoulders, fluttering in the breeze coming off the water.

“Long ago I was a pirate like you,” the woman answered, “but I gave it up once I found the treasure that you apparently seek.”

“The treasure…it’ll be mine soon enough,” he growled, motioning her to his side. “Join me, and we can share since there’s no one left here,” he offered as he gestured to his fallen men. “Surrender or perish…like those pawns who cower behind you, letting you fight their battle.” He flung his wide-brimmed hat with purple plume across the sand, unbuttoned the cape and let it slide to one side. He took a fighter’s stance, hand out, sword at the ready.

“Choose wisely, woman. Live…or die.” He sent a hard glare her way, his eyes narrowed, his breathing steady and his body tensed with a fighter’s instinct rather than fear.

The Warrior Woman’s eyes went wide, her mouth formed into a perfect O at his ultimatum. Then her lips flattened into a hard line across her face. Her wide brown eyes turned into squints of determination. No way was she letting this pirate have the island and its people. She relaxed her shoulders even as she mimicked his stance, hand out, sword ready.

“I live. You die,” she answered him with a growl and grit in her voice.

Sword fights are not romantic dances back and forth for the pleasure of those watching. Real fights are quick, messy, and brutal. This one looked to be just such a duel…brutal.

Captain Cross stepped to his left, his eyes trained on hers. She copied him, taking a step to her left. Once more, they stepped, sizing up each other. Eyes watching eyes.

The captain had the advantage. He was taller with a longer reach.

The loose sand beneath their feet was a disadvantage for both.

The island warrior clearly had no advantage in this battle other than youth and the motivation to keep this man away…to kill him if possible. Most probably. The captain came looking for treasure though he didn’t seem to know what that was. He simply arrived where the map said to go. That might be the biggest plus for the woman. She knew. He didn’t.

Suddenly the captain attacked, bringing his longer heavier sword down toward the woman. She stepped back as she used the upper third of her sword to parry his blows. She managed to deflect his blows, swirling the upper third of her blade over his then starting her own attack. She lunged, going high and low, thrusting toward his mid, but he was a master at swordplay and parried her attempts. Back and forth, they danced, swirling, the woman ducking now and then to avoid a particularly vicious cut.

At one point, the warrior managed to go low and make a clean swipe for the captain’s legs, but the wily captain jumped over the blade.

The audience oohed and aahed.

The captain caught her once, holding her off hand while their blades clashed at the hilts. But the woman was smart enough to fight with all her abilities and knowledge. She bashed her foot into his leg, knocking him off balance. She fell back as did he, both of them down in a three-point stance in the sand, blazing fury across ten feet of territory, blowing hot breaths.  

“You’re going down, missy, and then the treasure will be mine,” Captain Cross taunted the woman.

“The treasure of Pabu Island is its people, Captain, not credits,” she told the man as her breath came in and out painfully. Her expression bounced back and forth between fear for those this man would enslave if he won and elation that she’d lasted this long with a worthy opponent.

“You’re lying, woman. For that alone you’ll die!”

With a growl but still in control, the woman came up with a thrust that should have gone straight into the captain’s mid-section but instead he turned, and her blade slid past him. However, she managed to come up at his back. Back to back they stood. In such a position, one wouldn’t think there could be an advantage, but the captain’s longer reach allowed him to push his blade over his shoulder, intent on impaling the woman.

She anticipated it and raised her sword in time to stop his before it could descend.

Rolling around his side, she ducked under his arm, and came up with a backhanded slash of her sword that should have sliced the captain open like soft fruit. But he anticipated her move, coming down with a vicious slash.

He was losing his control in this fight, growling now, speeding up his attacks.

The warrior held her sword up, across herself, blocking his move. Their swords locked again, and the captain attempted to use his greater strength to force her down. But he underestimated her. As he raised his sword to hack at her, she ran under his arm behind him but not back to back. Both turned to face each other, the warrior making a swipe across the captain’s middle, but the nimble man jumped back, bending almost in half to avoid her blade.

Again, the pair found themselves in a three-point stance, their exhaustion plain to see. No more breath for taunts.

Time to end this, the Warrior Woman decided. Time to use his uncontrolled aggression against him.

This time both came up in a lunge toward the other. The captain used brute strength born of rage to beat the warrior’s sword aside, his plan to knock it out of her hand. She held fast though. Faster than the eye could follow, she went low in a swirling move on both knees and came up with all her strength, her blade slicing across his stomach, blood spurting profusely.

With a shocked look on his face, his hand went to the fatal wound. His eyes rolled back in his head as his hand loosened, and his sword fell to the ground. His knees buckled, and he dropped onto them. With a last gusty sigh, he fell forward onto the sand.

Silence held as the woman fought to catch her breath, every muscle screaming, blood from the dead on her face and clothes.

* * * *

Then, like a true victor, Omega turned to her audience and raised her sword, her tired but bright smile breaking the stunned silence that fell when Captain Cross died.

The audience went berserk, cheering, whistling, calling her name.

Omega held up both hands, turning slowly, delighting in the effect their play had on the islanders.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw her brothers leaning on elbows, grinning like island loons. She finally sheathed her sword and allowed herself to relax. Introductions were in order.

First was the play’s narrator. She drew her brother from the audience’s side where he’d stationed himself. Grasping his hooked arm, she yelled, “Our narrator today—Echo!” She held his arm high, listening to the crowd cheer, shouting his name, letting him know he had guided them through the story well. His blushes were a delight to see. Omega brought their arms down then let him move to one side.

Jogging over to Tech, she reached out a hand and pulled him up to stand beside her. He dusted himself off, adjusted his glasses, and gathered up his scattered maps. Only then did he step forward. Pulling him into the middle of the stage area, Omega held up his hand, both of them standing like victors in the center of a boxing ring. “Our worthy helmsman—Tech!”

The crowd went crazy, yelling Tech’s name repeatedly. “Tech! Tech! Tech!” Memories of a pod race on Ord Mantel came to both of the Batchers. They shared a grin while Tech blushed at the praises heaped on him.

Omega positioned him next to Echo and went to Wrecker. Using both hands, she pulled him up and marched him to center stage. “Our muscled crewman—Wrecker.” Raising their hands together, the big man was gracious enough not to make her tiptoe. The crowd called his name, making him grin, as he raised his arms and flexed his muscles, giving the people a booming laugh. Still, he sniffled a few times, tears hanging on his lashes. Wrapping an arm around Omega’s shoulder, he kissed the top of her head then moved to stand with his brothers.

Helping Hunter stand, she guided him to center stage and gave him a delighted grin when he pulled her to his side and kissed her cheek. “Our loyal first mate—Hunter.” Together they raised their arms and absorbed the crowd’s praise.

Finally, the crowd calmed in anticipation as Omega went to Crosshair and pulled him up. Like Tech, he stood and adjusted his costume, brushing off sand. She went over, grabbed up his cape, and helped him fasten it to the buttons on his shirt. A step to one side and he retrieved his hat. With a brief hesitation then a flourish, he put it on, running his fingers along the brim, setting it just right on his head Only then did he accept Omega’s hand, striding forward like a ruler.

“Our villain today, Captain Cross!” Omega yelled enthusiastically, dramatically. One glance between them and they too raised hands to the outbreak of applause, cheers and whistles from the audience. The people went wild.

A stunned expression, mouth slightly slack-jawed, eyes wide, Cross watched as the audience acknowledge his role in the play. He finally realized he’d done something that made many people happy. His sister let her hand slip from his and stepped back, leaving him in the limelight—a solo performer who’d earned the accolades.

As if he were still the dastardly but dashing captain, Cross swept off his hat and, with a flourish of that purple piece, bowed to the audience. They went berserk with applause and accolades. He stood and set the broad-brimmed hat on his head and looked for his family.

The brothers and little sister lined up, took hands, raised them, and bowed to the audience.

The play was over though the memories would live forever.

Mayor Shep stepped forward, his voice booming over the noise. “The island women have prepared a meal for today. Please join us and the actors on the plaza.”

Hugs and praise floated through the crowd on the beach as many came to speak to the actors. Rex and Phee managed to make their way to the family who stood in gory costumes with proud smiles on their faces.

“I can’t even find words to tell you how much I enjoyed that play,” Rex finally managed to say, his focus going from brothers to sister.

Phee threw her arms around Tech’s neck, almost strangling the man. “Man, you died good!”

“Technically, that should be I died well,” Tech said as she handed him his goggles, “But in this case, I think we shall agree that I handled my demise properly.”

Phee rolled her eyes as Rex and Hunter chuckled.

* * * *

A huge feast was laid out for those who attended. Still in costumes, swords in scabbards at their sides, Omega and her brothers joined in. The brothers quietly accepted the congratulations.

Poor Crosshair was positively overwhelmed with admirers of all ages. The youngsters especially hung on him. “Captain Cross! Captain Cross! Can we see your sword?” most of the boys asked. Girls too. He took a knee and handed his sword to Mox who’d helped rope off the sand stage and helped direct the audience to appropriate seating.

A tiny one, barely three, one of Cross’ swimming students, pushed through those around the man where he knelt to be nearer the kids’ heights and keep an eye on that sword as well. When Shyla rushed to him, he automatically grabbed her. “Mr. Cross, you’re bleeding. You’re hurt,” she sobbed, her hands tight around his neck.

Never comfortable with a crying female, Cross realized the little one thought the fake blood was real. “Shyla, it’s not real blood. It’s pretend. See?” He undid a few buttons across his chest that were covered with the sticky fake blood and showed her that he had no wound. “I’m fine,” he assured her. “Mr. Tech made this out of cachi sauce. Here,” he dipped a finger into one damp spot. “Don’t taste but smell.” The sauce had a fragrance she recognized. Her tears stopped, but she still clung to his neck.

Hunter and Omega stood with cups in hand and watched the youngest brother talk to the kids. “He’ll make a fine dad if he ever finds someone who can look past his crusty attitude,” Omega commented softly. Hunter snorted quietly, knowing that his little sister often knew more than any of them did.

* * * *

Once the party died down, the family returned to their home near the top of the island. Inside, they sank into chairs and sofa, with Wrecker sprawled on the floor, exhausted but elated.

Echo best summed up their latest adventure, “The treasure of Pabu Island is indeed its people…and this family is part of that treasure.”

_____________

And as the great Shakespeare himself said, “All’s well that ends well.”