“I’ll raise you three ration bars and a nuna strip.”

“Ration bars? Really?”

“Well I would stick to the nuna jerky strips if someone wasn’t eating them all,” Nines stressed the word in his explanation before looking across the table to where Char was sitting. On the soldier’s left leg sat Lucky, the kid they’d been looking after at the Eedit Temple for the past couple weeks now. 

She looked at the Sabacc cards in Char’s right hand inquisitively while he secured her with his spare hand to keep her from sliding off his armored leg. 

“Kid’s emaciated and she’s hungry; grow up.” Char mumbled before tossing the bars towards the center of the table.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if she was only taking your stash,” Nines countered before mirroring the action.

“You started it, vod.” Char almost chuckled as he readjusted the kid sitting on his leg as she continued to watch the game curiously. 

About the space of the communications center - which had turned into a sort of rec room for the men - sat Jack and Hawk who were cleaning and reassembling their rifles, Razor and Ram who were analyzing cam footage and atmospheric data for any incoming Separatist reinforcements, and Mash and Baxter who were mildly arguing over what to do with the kid yet again.

Being stuck at the Eedit Temple was starting to wear them down. 

Nines didn’t necessarily mind their current predicament now that they had the kid as a distraction, however like his brothers, he was getting antsy. In between missions they were kept in stasis pods on Kamino; this down time was unusual and irregular for them. Nines didn’t know what to do with it half the time, but they found ways to keep themselves busy. 

Whether it be standing up damaged battle droid remains and using them for target practice out in the courtyard, or climbing around the crashed YV-865 looking for anything of interest, they found ways to pass the time outside of regular patrols of the surrounding grounds. 

The time had passed relatively quickly, something that surprised Nines after the first week and change. The kid was making things interesting and keeping them on their toes. She’d grown more confident in her time with them. Whether or not she spoke Basic was in question, but they all assumed she understood it to some degree at least, since she responded accordingly when they spoke to her.

Glancing up over his cards, Nines eyed Char for a time before his eyes dotted over towards the kid. She was eyeing the demolition soldier’s cards before she pointed to one of them and Char raised his eyebrow before glancing at her with a smirk.

Nines narrowed his eyes. Kids’ smarter than she lets on it seems. He thought. 

“Cheater,” Nines muttered before readjusting the cards in his own grasp.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Char gave a grunt-like chuckle before giving his next move to Nines.

From the other side of the communications center, Mash stood near the command console, his arms loosely crossed over his armored chest as he considered the situation silently. It was time to check in on Kamino once again, and this time they needed to tell Skipper about the kid. Baxter wasn’t so keen on that however.

“I think it can wait,” 

Speaking of-

Mash turned ninety degrees, meeting the Trauma Sergeant’s gaze. The clone stood adjacent to the console where he stood himself, hands resting on the rim of the structure. 

“What do you believe will happen once we update him on the situation?” Mash inquired, voice hinting at his sincerity but also mild annoyance. They’d been putting this off for almost a week now. 

“She’s just a kid,” Baxter jutted his chin towards where she was on the other side of the room, his voice lowered a fraction, most likely to keep the comment quiet. “What’re they gonna do with her once we pull out?”

Baxter didn’t seem like the type to be particularly soft, but it was obvious the kid had gotten under the skin of all of them. It was their first contact with a child outside of Kamino, a civilian. She was cute and easy on the eyes, making even Char’s hard-set demeanor soften up in her presence. They didn’t have any experience taking care of a civilian in a hostile environment, and the SOPs weren’t of much help... He’d even checked. 

The hard truth was that the mission was top priority and anything else was irrelevant. Mash understood if that’s what Baxter was referring to. If Skipper took the news of the kid negatively, Mash didn’t really know how that would impact them, the kid, or the mission. If the Separatist reinforcements arrived, and they would eventually, the kid would prove to be a liability, and a great one at that considering how the men were softening up to her presence. 

Mash found himself breathing out quietly before he returned his gaze to the fellow Sergeant.

“S’not our call, vod. And ultimately not our business once the Jedi get here. She’ll be theirs to deal with when they arrive.”

“That’s a little cold, don’t you think?” Baxter crossed his arms, brow knitting a touch as he looked the Echo Sergeant up and down for a brief time. Baxter really wasn’t one for protocol. And while he didn’t necessarily use his heart more than his head, it was obvious his emotions often fueled his drive, and preference towards stratagem versus strategy.

“We’re soldiers, Baxter. There’s a war on. Can’t let one kid get in the way of a mission. Especially a high priority one.” Despite the truth to his words, something about them made Mash grimace subtly. The words sat heavy in his gut for a time. They were cold, calculated… But war was no place for emotion. Sure a little is good; his bond with his brothers was the reason they were so effective at their jobs, but you throw too much emotion into the mix and you put the mission and the lives of others at risk. 

It was obvious Baxter didn’t give his words much attention as he’d gone about getting communications ready for them to speak with the Advisor. The Trauma Sergeant merely muttered under his breath, barely audible from where Mash was only feet away. 

“Sure you're not just trying to spite high command?” Mash offered.

The hum of the command console booting up brought a soft ambience to the otherwise quiet space, aside from the quiet chatter of the others now and again. 

The question didn't seem to bother Baxter as Mash originally thought it might, and he got a minimal reaction of a grumble from the clone. 

Once the correct information was put in, a few moments passed before an illuminated shape solidified on the projection above the holotable and Skipper appeared.

“Sergeants,” he greeted. “Anything new to report?”

“There has been a development, sir.” Mash responded, exchanging a glance with Baxter. “There was a survivor on the YV-865 wreckage. A kid. We’ve had her here for a few days now.”

“Days?” Skipper emphasized on the last portion of the statement.

“We- Until we had a better understanding of the situation, the Sergeant and myself made the decision to withhold the development, sir.” Mash offered, not liking the words as they left his mouth. That was no excuse to withhold information from a superior.

"So, has this proved... troublesome to manage?" "No sir," Mash responded. "Simply a situation we had to take the time to adapt to. SOPs weren't of uh- use for this particular situation." "Babysitting doesn't have its own section of the manual yet. For Jedi Temples or children." Baxter chimed in, resting one hand on the rim of the command console. Mash shot him the smallest narrowed eyed look but quickly brought his attention back to the Advisor. "I see," Skipper considered the two Sergeants for a time before clearing his throat. "Has there been any indication of a further Separatist presence?" "Not that we’ve picked up on." Baxter took the opportunity to further jump in, "It's been quiet since the YV crashed... S'making the boys restless." Baxter noted as he crossed his arms and glanced across the room. "Not to worry, Sergeant. You and your men will be out of there in no time." Skipper gave a small chuckle. "I've gotten word that this mission has climbed up in urgency for the Jedi. They're looking for someone to send your way as we speak. Shouldn't be much longer." "If you say so, sir." Mash wasn’t exactly amused by the Trauma Sergeant's response, and risked a small glance only to see Baxter had given a hard roll of his eyes. At least he was choosing to keep his comments about the Jedi to himself. "As for this," The emphasis within the statement clued Mash in that Skipper was referring to the kid. "Just keep your eyes on the objective; we can't afford this location being compromised. If you get a read on Separatist reinforcements, contact me immediately." "Will do, sir." Mash gave a curt nod. "You'll all be back in the fight in no time." The statement held a warmth that wasn't often expressed but it was enough to make Baxter smirk as the Advisor said his farewells before the hologram flickered and disappeared.

Now resting his hands on the rim of the console, Mash considered the situation for a moment in silence. 

From across the room, Razor watched his Sergeant and the Sergeant of Trauma Squad quietly. There was no question that things were a bit tense; especially with a child with growing confidence running around. Mash was a reserved man, and often came off as disconnected and even cold. But Razor knew he cared deep down; he just preferred not to let things get personal enough for attachment of any sort. He still had reservations with their squad. They’d all lost brothers at Geonosis, Mash having lost his entire original squad… It was an adjustment for all of them. 

As far as Razor knew, Trauma Squad had been together since birth, but from the appearance of difference in age, Razor assumed Jack was a newer member of Trauma. It was, however, only an assumption. 

To an outsider, Echo Squad probably looked just as put together as any squad organized since birth, but that was the point; that was a personal subject and not something that you threw around in conversation.

“What’d you think?” Ram turned his chair around to face Razor more directly, and away from the computer station. 

“Hm?” Razor cocked an eyebrow as the Trauma Corporal pulled him from his thoughts.

“They seem to be getting along alright now,” Ram jutted his chin out towards where their Sergeants were.

“For now,” Razor chuckled. That could change any moment. When it came down to it, Mash and Baxter were very different - down to the bone even. Different training sergeants also meant they were all raised and indoctrinated with different motivations and beliefs. Baxter was gung ho, and Mash was calculated. Baxter shot first while Mash asked the questions. They might be docile now but Razor knew when the firefight came they’d most likely butt heads again. 

He still held out hope that they’d all come to an understanding; he could see that happening already, even. Nines and Char were usually at each other’s throats, except when playing Sabacc. They were eerily civil, and the kid had taken a liking to watching them play their little card games too, which was always amusing. 

A soft beep from the computer station in front of him caused the Echo Squad’s Corporal to divert his attention back down. 

Processing the computer scan’s findings, Razor huffed quietly and exchanged a small glance with Ram before coming to his feet to head towards the Sergeants. 

"Finished the scan." Razor announced as he stepped up to the command console. "No reads of incoming ships on the scanners. Wanna head out, sir?" The Corporal's question caused Mash to clear his throat before acknowledging with a nod. Baxter watched the exchange quietly for a time. It was time for a perimeter check. They'd since added the wreck to their overall sweep of the grounds. "Mind company?" Baxter chimed in, earning the Echo Sergeant's attention for a brief time. Considering it for a moment, Mash turned out towards the room. "Nines," Mash spoke, voice calm but still commanding. "Sir?" The sniper didn't look up from his hand as he acknowledged his officer. "I want you to stay here with Jack, Hawk, and Ram. The rest of us are gonna do a sweep." "Roger," Nines mumbled, brow knit as he processed the cards Char just put down before he looked up at the kid, and then the demolitions clone. "You karking cheater I-" "I'll just put that loss on your tab," Char patted the table with his now empty hand before gently ushering the child to get up as he got to his feet. As he stepped away from the makeshift cargo box chair, Char ruffled the hair of the kid before proceeding to get his equipment ready for patrol. 

As the men went about getting ready, Lucky watched them all quietly, the fabric of the shirt she wore overtop the rags she was found in lightly held in her fists. Placing his helmet on his head, Mash looked to the men in front of him briefly before picking up his Deece. He'd already performed a weapons system check that morning, as well as checked the integrity of his armor and other equipment. He was ready to go. "Are we ready?" Checking in with Baxter, Char, and Razor; Mash got confirmations from the men as they helmeted up before the clone gave a hand gesture for them to move out. Mash could already feel his muscles relaxing, and a small but steady stream of adrenaline starting to seep into his bones. This was the only time when they could at least believe they might be seeing action. He wouldn't openly admit it got him excited, but it didn't take words for any of the clones there for them all to equally understand that this detailed what little action they were seeing at the Eedit Temple. 

It was what they were bred for: combat. It got their blood flowing and sparked that fire deep in the pit of the stomach that said action was coming. It was programmed in their bones. Whether it was the adrenaline rush that came with it that they desired, or maybe even the violence, Mash didn't know. The simple fact was that this is what they were bred for. That was all he needed to know. 

With the mindset falling into place as Mash walked for the exit of the communications room, someone abruptly interrupted the moment when they grabbed the hand he'd since lowered. He came to a hard stop at the sudden contact and looked down. 

Looking just as confused, Lucky looked up to meet the visor of Mash's helmet, coming up short as the Sergeant stopped hard in his tracks.

Before the clone could find words he caught several chuckles from somewhere behind him and quickly shot a look over his shoulder at the other men in the room. 

“Kid- I- uh…” Mash tried to weasel his hand from her grip, much to her curiosity as she let him finally pull his hand away before she gently grabbed a hold of his armor belt; another handhold now it seems. “Ad’ika (little one), this isn't the time,” His desire for action now deflated, Mash spoke with a gentle but firm voice as he tried to get her to let go of his belt, triggering a look of confusion from the child as she scrunched her brow and looked up at him. 

“Erm-” Mash grumbled under his breath as he tried to direct her away from him when he spotted Hawk and Jack coming over to assist. 

“C’mere kid,” Jack laughed, going in to ruffle her hair with a spare hand, his helmet in the other before he snatched her up with ease, easing her to rest on his arm as he carried her back into the communications room. “Sergeants’ have work to do,” 

Mash watched for a time as the few clones remaining in the Temple proceeded to lightly distract the child. 

He caught the flickers of distress and confusion in her eyes as she pointed back towards him and the few men he was taking out on patrol. 

“We could always use the extra set of eyes,” The comment was said loosely as Baxter stepped up next to Mash. He was finding this quite amusing it seemed. 

Mash turned his helmeted gaze towards the Trauma Sergeant before giving a shake of his head, turning on his heel to head out. 

“What?” Baxter laughed deep in his chest, throwing his rifle up to lean it against his shoulder plate before exchanging a glance with Char. “What’d you think?”

Ram slowly narrowed his eyes, expression almost stern in its relaxed position before he pulled his lips into a thin line. 

“I don’t think she speaks Durese.” 

“Really?” Jack’s brow raised in question, his shoulders squared back as he sat just slightly hunched over, chin resting ever so slightly on his closed fist, elbows resting on his knees. “Looked like she reacted a bit at the end there,” Jack jutted his chin out towards Lucky who was sitting across from them, her hands rested loosely in her lap as she eyed the two clones in front of her.

“Alright,” Trauma Squad’s slicer mumbled as he turned where he sat to face the computer station and put in new information before he snatched his datapad that was now plugged into said station. “How bout Twi’leki?” He quipped, activating his datapad to play the preselected phrase in the new language. Watching the child closely, the two clones waited for a reaction or response. She eyed the two of them in return, her gaze temporarily jumping over to the datapad sitting on the computer station before returning to them. 

Jack’s brow knit, expression contorting with consideration before he snatched the datapad again, muttering to himself as he worked. 

“She seems to understand basic, Jack.” Ram offered the comment up with light amusement as the younger clone worked diligently on his device. 

“She might understand it but the kid’s gotta speak somethin… Might not be basic.” Jack countered.

Ram put his hands up quietly, unable to cover up the smirk that took over his expression before he let his arms fall into his lap. 

“Rodese?” Jack stated the question as he played the same phrase but in the new language. 

Once more, Lucky just eyed the two of them quietly. Her brow was mostly relaxed, but occasionally it’d twitch, giving off a sense of confusion from the kid. 

“Sullustese? No… Togruti?... Okay, how about Tusken.” As soon as Jack played the audio, Lucky sat back, surprise obvious in her expression at the sudden tusken vocation. 

“Does she… look Tusken?”

“Don’t knock the Sand People, vod, they look human, right? No harm in trying it.”

“Are they human?” Ram’s brow knit as he looked to his comrade.

“I actually don’t think so… Think they’re a humanoid species? Not compatible with humans.”

“Not compatible?” Ram muttered, nose scrunching with confusion.

“Y’know, we can’t ma-”

“Nevermind- I get the picture” Ram cuts his younger vod off quickly, knocking his armored shoulder with his own for good measure before looking back to the kid still sitting quietly in front of them.

“Alright I’m running out of options,” Jack grumbled before proceeding to scroll through his datapad list silently. 

Ram rolled his eyes lightly before returning his gaze to their smaller guest. Her expression revealed a subtle boredom from the current activities. Her legs kicked lightly back and forth where she sat on a large cargo crate, her heels occasionally nicking the surface. 

“You try Mando’a?” Ram voiced his question without turning his eyes away from the kid.

“What?” Jack looked up from the datapad, his eyes finding his brother rather quickly.

Clearing his throat, Ram gave a little wave of his hand to get the kid’s attention.

“Gar Mando'ad (you a child of mandalore)?”

The lack of reaction gave Ram his answer as Lucky continued to eye him before her gaze jumped to Jack. 

Breathing out quietly, Ram let his eyes fall before he exchanged a tiring look with Jack.

“No worries I got more,” The younger clone shrugged before lifting the datapad again, causing Ram to roll his eyes lightly at his comrade’s persistence.

On the other side of the room Nines sat by another computer station, letting the systems run a scan on the surrounding airspace while he cleaned and spot checked his gear. 

Somewhere in the Temple, Hawk was doing a quick round to make sure that the base was still clear in all areas and entrances, and that they were locked down tightly. 

As Jack went back to searching the archive for more languages to test the kid with, and Ram helped him in amusement, Lucky found her eyes wandering over to the Echo Squad sniper on the other side of the room. 

A quiet hum emitted from the computer station as each scan was run, and then repeated over. The ambience did little to keep Nines’ attention as he amused himself with a routine gear check. A sweep of his boots, armor plates, and body suit, as well as a recalibration of the helmet systems was standard. He’d already disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled his deece, and only had to do a quick check on his HUD before doing a restock of his survival pack. They didn’t have the necessary supplies to do a full restock of the pack's contents, but the Temple was a stable enough location that they could make do with what they could scrounge up in place of normal supply stock.

As Nines placed his helmet on and began a recalibration of the HUD systems, Lucky quietly made her way across the room to where he was, unbeknownst to Ram and Jack who were both going back and forth on the language database. 

She watched Nines for a moment, his back somewhat turned to her as he sat back in a chair, legs crossed up on the computer station and hands rested over his torso. He wasn't moving, much to Lucky’s curiosity, as he seemed to just be staring at the ceiling. Her eyes moved over the small pile of supplies sitting behind his chair, all his armor plates, survival pack, and a giant rifle that made her eyes pop open with curiosity. She looked around quietly before lightly scurrying behind Nines’ chair to get closer. 

“If we find out more information on the ship, it might give us some insight into the kid’s past.” Ram offered the statement up as he finally leaned away from the tablet that Jack was holding and eagerly scrolling through. “Or the kid might just speak basic and doesn't like talking,” He added, “She seems to understand us on some level.” 

Chuckling to himself, Ram turned back to face Lucky, only to find her spot empty. 

“Osik-” The comment caught Jack’s attention as he turned to look at Ram, and then locked on the cause of the statement. 

“She's in the room somewhere,” Jack shrugged. 

Ram got up, head turning frantically before his focus snapped on the worrying sight of Lucky trying to handle Nines’ rifle. 

You di’kut, Ram shook his head at the Echo sniper’s lack of awareness. 

Looking around him, Ram sought out an empty cartridge and tossed it around in his hand before chucking it hard towards Nines. It let out a clang as it collided with Nines’s helmet and the sniper let out an irritated sort of growl before whipping his head around to look at the Corporal, legs falling unceremoniously off the computer station. 

“Do you mind? I'm trying to do a recal here?” 

“You have eyes on your equipment, soldier?” Ram countered. Despite being from different squads, Ram knew this was a moment that warranted the use of his rank as a Corporal. 

“What?” The Echo sniper threw a hand out before pulling his helmet off to inspect the spot of collision. 

Ram crossed his arms, waiting a moment for the clone to take notice of the situation unfolding. 

If the safety wasn't clearly on, Ram would've run over and snatched the loaded rifle that was several feet taller than the kid before Nines even had a clue what was transpiring behind him. But this was a good moment for a lesson if the di’kut would turn around sometime this rotation. 

When silence followed, Nines looked up from his helmet and to the Trauma Corporal before his gaze turned to Jack who was seated behind Ram. The slicer gave a minuscule gesture, and Nines casually craned to look over his shoulder, chair turning with him as Lucky finally came into view. His rifle was in her small hands as she curiously looked it over and tried to move the - at a minimum - thirty pound firearm. 

“Wayii!” Nines jumped from his chair so fast that Lucky scrambled to hold the rifle close in surprise, trying to keep it from falling before Nines snatched it from her with ease. “This is not a toy kid!” Nines makes clear while pointing at her and then hesitantly doing a little finger wiggle to reinforce the wrong doing. “Don't touch.” He added the statement when she continued to eye him, uncertainty to her expression but a sense of fear was on her face. Most likely at Nines’ frantic actions at pulling the firearm from her. 

“Ok?” His brow knit, and the question had hesitation as he tried to pull understanding from her expression. “S’dangerous, kid. You could hurt yourself.”

After a moment, Lucky hesitantly raised a hand, finger pointing as she slowly went to touch the rifle in Nines’ grip when he pulled it away further. 

“No touching.” He repeated, before setting it up on the computer station in a hard to reach place for someone of her stature. “Got it?”

Ram watched quietly between the two, amusement taking majority in his pot of mixed emotions. 

After a moment of silence, Lucky’s face of confusion scrunched up and she made a little frustrated noise of her own before she exasperatedly crossed her arms and stomped towards the hallway. 

Nines watched the child angrily leave, his brow high in surprise before he glanced over to see Ram struggling to maintain his composure as a hand covered his mouth; Jack already wheezing silently while hiding his face in a hand too. 

While the Eedit Temple was rather small in size compared to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, the empty halls gave an illusion to a much larger space. The quiet scuff of Nines’ boots along the floors echoed as he made his way down one of the rounded halls of the larger spire. He occasionally leaned into empty rooms; eyes scanning for signs of life and movement.

After the events from earlier that morning, Nines was on the hunt for the kid. The scrunched look of confusion and frustration on her face replayed in his mind as he walked the empty halls. 

While he felt partially amused by the unexpected reaction from her, much like his fellow comrades, Jack and Ram, he also felt a nagging in the pit of his stomach by the direction of the interaction. 

“Where the hell is this kid?” Nines muttered under his breath as he peaked his head into the dining hall. Empty.

“Looking for something, vod?” 

Nines turned and straightened up, eyes quickly finding Hawk as he walked around the corner. 

“Yeah,” Nines cleared his throat, a hand coming to rub at the back of his neck just above the collar of his vacuum suit. “Seen the kid anywhere?”

“She was sitting on one of the cots last I saw her.” Hawk gestured with a nod over his shoulder in the direction of their temporary quarters as he briefly came to a stop, “kid was scowling something fierce.” Hawk chuckled, his Deece comfortably set in his hands against his belt.

Nines breathed out quietly before giving his brother a nod as the other continued down the hall.

“Thanks.” The sniper called back before doing the same.

Making his way around the bend, Nines proceeded to the next floor down.

Settled on one of the cots furthest from the door, sat Lucky. 

“Hey, kid.” Nines stopped in the doorway, waiting to see if she would turn around. 

When she didn’t, he proceeded into the room. 

She’d chosen Baxter’s cot as her spot to sit. 

When he got closer, he noticed her eyes briefly meet his warily before she looked forwards once more, pulling her legs up onto the cot before shuffling closer to the far side.

“Ain’t here t’punish ya, kid.” Nines breathed amusingly at her caution. “Opposite if anything,” He mumbled the latter half of his statement under his breath.

Taking a seat with his legs on the opposite side of the cot, Nines looked over his right shoulder towards the smaller being. A hand shuffling into one of the storage units on his belt, he pulled a jerky strip out.

“Brought ya something.” He swung the morsel back and forth before holding it out.

She slowly looked over her shoulder and eyed the jerky strip before her nose scrunched up and she turned away again.

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” He chuckled as he scooted closer, holding it out further before tossing it onto the cot next to her.

When she didn’t make a move to take it, or look in his direction, he huffed quietly before nodding to himself.

“Alright… Be that way.” The Echo Squad sniper got to his feet and took a couple steps before stalling, “guess you don’t wanna see somethin’ really cool outside…” He trailed off, plucking a spare power pack from the back of his belt, tossing it up in the air before catching it. 

He continued to toss it, rolling it in his palm, then tossing it again. After a couple seconds, he noticed the catch in her eyes as she turned slowly, looking at the item over her shoulder.

“What’d ya say, kid? Interested?” He gave a small smile, eyebrow raising as he watched her turn a bit more to face him.

The Devaronian air was heavy, and held a decent amount of moisture; a thick layer of fog hung on top of the vine canopy surrounding the Temple grounds. 

A comfortable enough temperature; Nines thought little of it as he walked across the northwest corner of the courtyard, his rifle in hand, the fore-end pointed up over his shoulder. He shot the occasional glance over his opposite shoulder, making sure the kid was still loosely following him. 

Nines’ failure to inform his squadmates, as well as the standing Corporal onsite about his intentions was- well… intentional. Not that he saw anything particularly wrong with what he was doing, though some may consider his next action unorthodox. 

Many thoughts swirled in the sniper’s mind. Some harsh, and some that sparked his own confusion. He and his squadmates were bred for combat; to be ruthless, remorseless weapons of the Republic; a sword that need only be pointed in the right direction for them to complete any mission, any task, without question nor failing. And yet… This child sparked something in him that neither flashtraining, nor conditioning could have taken responsibility for. 

Glancing over his shoulder once more, the soldier spoke up gruffly, “come on, kid,” His voice grabbed her attention as she had been walking slowly off course while looking around at the large surrounding vine structures just over the courtyard wall. 

His command quickly seemed to resonate with her as her frail legs picked up speed and she drew closer to him as he continued on his way.

Perhaps it was the way he was raised up; their training sergeant on Kamino was more personal in his teachings. Thankfully Echo squad had the same origins when it came to their upbringing on Kamino, each of their original respective squads all brought up under the same sergeant, so despite having some minor differences, they each likely had a similar upbringing and understanding of the cultural origins in their blood. 

Nines felt a type of yearning- a strong desire to educate this kid and bring her under his wing in a way. It made him uneasy- standoffish even. This wasn’t a feeling he was supposed to have. He had a purpose, and this wasn’t it. But when he looked at her, Lucky, one word came to mind: Laandur. Weak, delicate, fragile… helpless. She may have survived that crash, but that would be of little meaning with her still being skin and bones. She was on the brink of collapse when they found her anyhow. He felt an unusual desire to watch her six, in a way, take care of her much like he would any of his brothers. 

He wasn’t raised to contemplate such things. The protection of a child. They were irrelevant to his current mission. It wasn’t his problem. Yet here he was. 

Approaching their small set up at the corner of the courtyard wall, Nines stopped, giving Lucky a quick glance, “first things first,” the soldier took several steps across the small space littered with various piles of supplies, setting his rifle down onto one of the cargo containers. “Ear protection for you, vaar'ika (pip-squeak).” He chuckled as he disengaged the parcel from his back, and set his survival pack down. 

A little ways away, Lucky stood quietly, her fists scrunching at the material of her clothes as she watched him. 

Setting some items neatly aside, the Echo squad sniper grabbed a pair of ear protection buds from his kit; hopefully they’d fit her. 

“Alright,” He turned around, his eyes meeting the child as hers shot down to the small container in his hand. “You gotta wear these first,” He held them up as he took several steps toward her and knelt down.

Her nose scrunched slightly as she leaned backwards, eyes locked on his hand as it came closer.

“Kid,” The firmness touched his tone as he paused before trying again. 

A small frustrated grunt sounded from the child as her shoulders lifted, almost touching her ears, a scowl replacing her expression of fearful uncertainty.

“Aight, here, look.” Nines retracted his hand, holding the bud for her to see before he put it into his own ear. “See? No harm done. It’ll protect your hearing. You’ll need it kid.” He explained before lowering his hand, keeping his head slightly cocked to the side so she could see. 

Her scrunched shoulders remained, her facial expression riddled with suspicion. It was amusing enough, Nines had to admit, but that aside he didn’t have the patience to argue with a child.

His sergeant would’ve knocked him upside the head if he exercised such… defiance. It would have been for his own good, to be fair; the Kaminoans would’ve simply terminated him under the guise of faulty equipment. 

“You aren’t winning this fight, kid. Its the buds or no fun.” He took them out of his own ears and gestured to her with a finger.

After a little trial and error, and a great deal of attitude from the smaller being, Nines eventually won the fight. She reluctantly put the buds into her own ears, after refusing help from the sniper. 

“Feisty thing, I’ll give ya that.” Nines breathed out a small laugh as he put his helmet on. With a series of blinks, he adjusted a couple settings before turning quietly to see her eyeballing him silently, her fingers fiddling with the protection buds in her ears. 

Assuming a kneeling position beside one of the cargo containers, Nines rested his rifle over one thigh, double checking the safety as well as the scope alignment before his helmeted gaze returned to the kid.

“K'olar, kid (Come here).” Nines gave a wiggle of two fingers, gesturing for her to come closer before he pointed to the ground in front of his kneeled position. 

Her eyes flicked from his gaze, to his hand, and to the ground before she took several small steps closer to him, hands gripping at the cloth of Hawk’s spare standard blacks the guys had put over top of what rags of clothing she was found in. 

“I saw those sur'haaise (eyes) of yours popping outta your head up in the comms room. You gotta learn some safety handling before you put your mitts back on this, suvari (understood)?”

Lucky only watched him quietly, but her expression didn’t indicate confusion; she likely understood him on some level. 

Granted, the Mando’a slipped through his lips without much thought. He’d need to think before the words came out; she undoubtedly didn’t understand the secondary language that his training sergeant instilled in him. 

“This dial here, see where its set?” The soldier pointed to the safety on his rifle that was outfitted with additions and useful modifications for a sniper, such as himself, “That’s the safety. When it looks like that you’re allowed to touch. But only when I’m around, ya hear?” The T visor of his helmet was set on her as he spoke. She thankfully no longer seemed uneasy in the presence of his helmeted comrades. When she was first found, however, it was clear she was intimidated. Rightly so, Nines thought. The very sight of the armor that mirrored their donor’s culture was meant to instill fear. It carried a reputation. 

“Now. See this one, and this one?” He flicks the safety off to the other two firing modes, “Under no circumstances are you allowed to touch, unless I’m holding it, kapeesh?” His tone was dangerously close to coming off as a bark of a command. However, following the incident of her ogling his weapon like a toy to be played with, he had to make sure he got the point across. This weapon wasn’t a toy… that being said though… 

“Wanna see how it works?” He chuckled, tilting his head to the side.

When she looked up, he noticed just the slightest sparkle of curiosity in her eyes. 

“Say no more.”

Adjusting his position, he knelt in front of one of the cargo containers. Nines instructed Lucky to stand somewhat behind him, giving a wiggle of his fingers before pointing to the ground so she was still within his visor’s sightline. 

“Hands on ears,” He used his spare hand to point to hers, and then placed an open palm along the side of his helmet, pleasantly surprised when she quickly followed suit, “Atta girl.” 

Hopefully the buds would be enough; better safe than sorry. The last thing he wanted was to traumatize her more. But something told him she would be intrigued, not scared. After all, she had to know to some degree what a blaster was. And even if she didn’t, she’d need the exposure. Fear wouldn’t get you far in this galaxy. 

“Ready, kid?” Nines gave her one more look to make sure she was paying attention. Not expecting a response, he faced forward again and shouldered the rifle, looking down the scope at one of the propped up droid carcasses. 

He’d fired so many rounds, he no longer needed to go through the mental checklist. It was all second nature, muscle memory. Giving the trigger a subtle squeeze, he waited for the recoil to meet his body, the familiar, vibrant crack as the zip of blue light torpedoed its way through the vine forest before colliding with its target. 

As quick as he found his target, he disengaged himself from the moment to turn hastily, his visor meeting the kid once more to see her eyes had popped open, searching the forest before meeting his gaze.

“Eh? What’d you think? Pretty cool, huh?” He let the butt of his rifle rest on his thigh plate.

Her hands had since lowered as she leaned out quietly, her eyes looking around the forest beyond the courtyard. 

To her credit, the targets were a good ways away.

“C’mere, kid.” Nines ushered her closer. “See down there?” He met her eyes over his shoulder, pointing a ways over the wall at a small clearing in the vines, about fifty yards down, where they had a few makeshift targets set up; a couple SBDs propped up against rubble, the tactical droid’s body against a vine, and more. “That’s what I’m aiming for.” Nines realigned his rifle again, his non-dominant hand finding the forestock so he could rest the front end of his rifle on the cargo container, before letting go in favor of just holding the rifle by the grip with his dominant hand, finger rested outside the trigger guard. 

Nines’ helmeted gaze returned to Lucky after a moment, noticing her still trying to lean up and around to see what he had pointed too. 

“Here,” Nines’ sets his rifle up, double checking to make sure the safety was on beforehand. “Look on through there for me.” He uses two fingers to point at her eyes and then towards his rifle’s sight. 

She watched him quietly before a time before inching closer. He was quick to note marks of hesitation in her movements, as well as her expression, but she still proceeded closer, walking quietly into his guard before she looked through the scope of his rifle. 

“That big silver one with the little eyes,” He mumbled quietly, eyeing the super battle droid in the distance through his visor, “That’s my target.”

The sniper kept still as the child gripped his scope in a small hand, looking up close through the magnifying tube. 

Despite the fact that he was in a knelt position, she still only stood about as tall as he currently was off the ground, a few inches less even. 

Eventually she stood back up straight, and looked at him briefly before her gaze returned to the rifle. He watched as she hesitantly raised a hand, pointing to herself, before pointing to the rifle.

“Wayii, erm… I dunno about that, kid.” Nines glanced over his shoulder briefly before looking back at her. “The recoil on this girl will send you into the stratosphere I recon,” He gave a nervous laugh. 

He knew she understood him by way of the reaction to his words; her hands bunching up the material of her clothes as she visibly retracted. 

It wasn't a good idea… Then again. He was probably her age the first time he held one of these; knocked him on his shebs too. 

“Sarg’ll have my head if he sees this.” He cursed under his breath before finally caving, gesturing for her to come back inside his guard. “C’mere kid. We’re only gonna do this one way, so, listen up.”

He shouldered the rifle once more, not bothering to line the weapon up for the target. 

“Hold here, overtop my hand,” he points her hand towards the fore end of the rifle, “And look back through here.” He gestured to the scope. “You’re gonna make sure she’s all lined up and ready to fire.”

She wiggled her way in closer, looking at the scope once more, pushing his hand a bit to move the rifle. 

“That’s it,” He chuckled. “Just like that. Go ahead and rest your cheek on’her, right here,” he used his spare hand to point at the rifle. “Don’t get too close to that scope now, ya hear? We can’t have you getting scope eye.”

Hawk got scope eye, back on Kamino during the early days of their training. That first time they were handed their DC-17s at just around Lucky’s age. He’d fractured his eye socket practically kissing the back of the scope with his face. Quickest way to learn that lesson. 

Nines lined up four fingers and placed them between the scope and the girl’s head. 

“No closer, got it?” The last thing he needed was her getting hurt. The sergeants would have his head. 

“Now, first things first. Identifying your target. Make sure you find the crosshairs, where those little lines meet.” He waited a moment before continuing, “Have 'em?” She gave a little nod, to his surprise. “Line 'em up with the droid, then lemme know when you're ready.”

She quickly met his T visor not long after he spoke. 

“Good, s’the first step done. Now. Once you got that in the crosshairs, I want you to breathe in. Nice and deep.”

He watched as she did as he asked, but puffed the air up into her cheeks.

“Not that big a breath,” He couldn’t help the laugh that accompanied his words. “Just a nice, slow breath.”

She tried again and he quickly nodded. 

“Good. Next step - Are you still looking at the droid?”

Another nod.

“Ok good. Next, breathe out nice and slow. Then, when you’re ready, squeeze the trigger here.” He positioned her hand and fingers which were much smaller than his own to the right location. “Just so…” He trailed off as he waited, watching over her shoulder. 

Seconds of quiet followed, Nines could pick up the quiet chirps and chatter of local fauna somewhat beyond the courtyard wall. The fog had slowly started to recede further into the dense vine growth as the sun peaked through. 

Finally the rifle sounded, the crackling zip was followed by the jolt of recoil he took to his own shoulder. While far off, Nines could still hear the sweet clatter of the bolt making contact with the droid carcass, and saw a few sparks that followed, confirming the contact. 

“Front and center, kid. Kandosii (Well done)!” He patted her shoulder as he chuckled, the other hand quickly flicking the safety on. 

“Are you crazy?” 

Nines turned to look over his shoulder, seeing Hawk standing a few feet away. Ram and Jack were walking over, helmets under their arms.

“There’s no harm in it,” Nines held up a hand to calm his brother. 

“You can’t handle rejection’s more like it,” Ram noted, causing Jack to chuckle. 

“I’m taking the recoil, but I’ll be damned if she didn’t do the rest and get a hit off.” He spoke the statement like it was ample proof towards his actions being acceptable. “Here, watch,” He looked down at Lucky, pointing at the rifle briefly before quickly earning an eager nod. Switching the safety off, Nines adjusted the rifle against his shoulder. 

“You know what to do, kid. Show’em how its done.” He nodded for her to take the wheel in a sense, and she quickly leaned in, moving his hand on the fore end of the rifle to face where she wanted it.

It didn’t take long before the bolt shot out over the courtyard wall, striking the tactical droid body propped up a good sixty yards away. 

“Mandokarla, ad'ika (you've got the right stuff, kid)!” Nines looked down at her, noticing how she quickly met his eyes after making the shot, a warm glimmer of something other than fear or uncertainty in her eyes. A nice change. 

“She’s gonna hurt herself,” Ram’s tone was firm, uncertain. Nines noted the flickers of disapproval in his expression.

“She’s fine,” Nines grumbled, giving Lucky’s shoulder a pat before he went to get to his feet, flicking the safety on before resting the weapon against the cargo crate. 

Lucky took a seat quietly next to the crate the rifle was knelt against, watching the men quietly as they bickered back and forth.

“Sarge is gonna have your head, he gets wind of this,” Hawk laughed. 

“She’s a better shot than you were at that age.” Nines pointed at his brother. “Feeling threatened?”

“Sure. Once she can pick the thing up without falling over, I will be.”

“To my credit, this started out as a safety lesson.” Nines met the eyes of the Trauma squad corporal. 

“I’m sure it did.”

None of them noticed the small being stand up and make a silent approach until Nines’ argument was cut off and the attention was drawn downwards.

Lucky tugged quietly on Nines’ hand before pointing towards the rifle.

“Again?”

It was quiet, all four soldiers expressed similar looks of surprise before Nines broke the silence with his laughter. “Hell yeah, kid!” He gestured for her to come along as he walked back towards his DC-17. “We’ll make a soldier outta her yet, boys.”

The ride up the lift to the comms room was quiet.

The patrol wasn’t eventful. Baxter and Mash had talked lightly, but the few hours they were out overall was silent. Char was quiet as usual, and so was Razor. Overall nothing noteworthy had taken place, and while it was good to know they had more time to prepare, it also meant the clock was still counting down to when the Separatists would make their next move. They would eventually. That much was certain. 

If Mash was a betting man, he’d put money on their being scout droids out and about, cataloging the presence of the since taken location. 

Light illuminated the hall leading to the comms room when the lift doors opened and the four clones stepped out. As they drew closer, the light grew, and voices filled the space.

“Hey Sarge,” Jack called out towards them. “Sergeants Mash,” He was quick to acknowledge the Echo Squad leader as well.

“How’er you boys getting on.” Baxter looked about the room as he put his helmet under his arm, running the spare hand through his hair. 

Mash’s gaze jumped around the room, his eyes found each individual man, before settling down on the 9th edition.

“You won’t believe what we got up to today,” Nines spoke up from where he was sitting, cleaning his rifle while Lucky stood by seemingly watching him closely. 

“Oh yeah?” Razor continued past the Sergeant, settling his helmet down on the comms center as he went. 

“Our own ram'ser’ika (little marksman/sniper).” Nines laughed as he ruffled her hair. 

The comment drew the eyes of both Sergeants, as well as the Echo squad corporal. 

“Me'ven (What)?” 

“Come again?"

“Tell me you didn’t-”

The statements all came out at once and Ram broke through the words with his own explanation, “Nines took it upon himself to give the kid a crash course.”

“You did what?” Mash turned a piercing gaze on his sniper. 

“Before you pass judgement- she’s a natural!” Nines puts his hands up in defense, rifle rested in between his legs before he gestured down to her with one hand.

“You let a civilian shoot your standard-issue service weapon-”

“Gar tratu mirsh'kyramud, (You are such a boring person (lit. brain assassin)” Baxter rolled his eyes before walking across the communications room to where Nines was at a corner station; the action caused Lucky to look up as he stopped. “We’re gonna have to put you to work, verd'ika (little soldier).” Baxter smirked. 

“Anything out there?”

Mash looked over to see Hawk stepping closer, hesitating for a time , Mash eventually shook his head, “No.” He responded. “All quiet.”

“Too quiet.” Char chimed in.

“They’ll be coming, though.” Razor met his sergeant’s eyes momentarily as he spoke, “it’s just a matter of time.”

“We’ll be ready.” The Echo squad sniper responded, his gaze reluctantly leaving the rifle he was spot cleaning to let his eyes jump around his brothers. “I’ll set this one up on the balcony off the east tower,” He nudged the kid lightly with his knee plate, making her giggle. “She can pop off some of those tin cans for us.”

Later that Night…

The comms room was silent, only the quiet hum and occasional beep of the radar system refreshing broke said silence. 

Mash sat quietly by the center console on a supply crate, datapad in hand as his eyes grazed over the SOPs manual. He’d read over multiple subjects regarding civilian interference, as well as collateral damage on assignment. Something. Anything relevant. It was still eating at him; he couldn’t lie. The whole situation was throwing a wrench into the mission. He didn’t doubt either squad’s ability to handle the mission objective, objectively, but there still posed the issue of their civilian refugee. He noted the amount of time the men spent tending to her. While they didn’t neglect their duties or normal daily objectives, their r&r time was being sapped up running around trying to keep a child in line.

Mash looked up and around when his thoughts were interrupted by the soft patter of steps growing closer. His eyes find Lucky walking into the room, one fist rubbing her eyes while her other hand gripped something he couldn’t make out. 

“What’er you doing up, ad’ika (little one)?” He mumbled quietly, the hand holding the datapad lowering to his thigh plate. “It’s too late for the likes’a you to be wandering around alone at this hour.”

He didn’t get a response as she drew closer before coming to a stop next to him. He analyzed her for a time before moving the arm holding the datapad, placing it up onto the center console. 

She met his eyes for a moment before moving forward, sitting down on the cargo box somewhat between his legs before continuing to munch on what he now recognized as a ration bar. 

“Stealing outta someone’s stash again I see,” He chuckled before lifting the manual once more, eyes returning to the softly illuminated surface. 

The current section heavily detailed the order in which action should be taken in light of civilian interference and involvement in combat situations. Strictly speaking, this wouldn’t be something Mash would have to worry about on a given mission. Unless he was given strict instruction to protect an asset that wasn’t a militant- or republic asset of any kind- it was irrelevant and not their problem. They would be ordered not to engage with or otherwise concern themselves with the safety or preservation of other lifeforms. 

That being said… This wasn’t like those missions. This was a mission based entirely on preservation and protection, if Mash considered it plainly. If there was a Jedi presence, he no doubt believed they would be instructed to preserve any life they came across that wasn’t considered hostile. 

A ration bar popping up, blocking Mash’s view of the datapad pulled him from his thoughts as he looked down at Lucky, seeing her offering up the morsel.

“Oh, I’m alright ad’ika,” He said. “Thank you.”

“Okay.” She said quietly before lowering the bar. 

The Sergeant didn’t noticeably react at first, but eventually felt a small tug at the corner of his mouth. A smile wasn’t a crime, but he was more attuned to subtle emotional expressions. 

There was an intelligence to her eyes that he could see. She might be older than they originally thought. Possibly nine, maybe even ten years old. She was emaciated to the degree that made it hard to tell.

A few minutes passed as Mash contemplated things silently before movement from the kid drew his attention back down.

She was reaching towards the command console to where his helmet was sitting just out of reach.

He watched her quietly for a time, raising an eyebrow at her determination as she tried to reach the item without moving, before she finally snatched it and pulled it closer to her.

Not bothered, Mash leaned back a tad, quietly watching her as she looked it over, the visor facing her as she traced it with her fingers before going to look inside it.

No harm, I suppose. He thought to himself.

When she went to put it on, he couldn’t help the low chuckle that slipped past her lips at how big it was on her, practically sitting on her shoulders. 

She looked up at him when he chuckled, the helmet swinging awkwardly. 

Something knotted in his gut after a time watching the child, causing his thoughts to pause and for him to temporarily dissociate. What the feeling was, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t often spend his time mulling over his feelings. He wasn’t bred to worry about such things. 

The only emotional baggage he needed to concern himself with was the bond he had with his brothers. And even then - he had to keep the objective in mind always. 

Under no circumstances would they ever sacrifice a mission objective for the preservation of themselves or the squad, but his training sergeant was always quick to indoctrinate them since they were young with the idea that they better come back. 

A running joke. 

There was always a chore to do when they came back from a mission. So obviously they had to make it back to Kamino. Otherwise their training sergeant would be left to clean up after his boys himself.

This kid will be out of our hands soon enough. The thought brought him back to the present as he looked back down, watching her innocently playing with the vital piece of his armor kit. 

He’d most likely never see her again, or even have to wonder about her… Onto the next thing, Mash thought. It was what had to happen. Needed to happen. The last thing he ever needed to contemplate was any form of attachment to this individual. 

The pull of curiosity was frustrating, and Mash allowed himself, despite the reluctance, to invite the thought to the forefront of his mind.

Where will she go? 

This was the military. They didn’t exactly have someone lined up to take on charity cases like this. Surely the Jedi would probably officiate something.

Mash felt uncomfortably out of place pondering such things. It wasn’t his business but… It awoke something in him.

What happens when we leave?

He cursed quietly in Mando’a under his breath before finally setting the manual down with a sigh.

Pushing a few buttons on the console, he started to boot up the long range transmitter. Maybe their advisor could shed some light on the situation that had befallen him and his comrades. 

Listening to the hum of the system coming to life, Mash watched the table quietly until a hologram erupted to life in front of him, illuminating the space. 

After some brief back and forth with the command center, Mash put through a request to speak to their advisor.

“Stand by, sir.” A clone officer spoke before the table went dark again briefly. 

Mash waited quietly, fingers drumming on the edge of the comm center as he waited.

Eventually the holotable came to life again and a familiar sight appeared.

“Sergeant,” Skipper said in greeting. “This isn’t the usual hour we talk. There hasn’t been any trouble, has there?”

“No, sir.” Mash responded. “Nothing of the sort. I apologize for the unscheduled comm, however I wanted to further add to my report.”

If not for the lack of helmet on his advisor, Mash probably wouldn’t have noticed the man’s eye line fall, before he gave a noticeable raise of an eyebrow, yet again meeting the sergeant’s gaze.

The sight had to have been something to behold; the armored clone sitting on a cargo container, with a small child sitting between his legs; his massively huge helmet on her head. 

“Wayii!” Mash felt embarrassment flood his system, the heat rushing his face. “Fierfek,” The expletive escaped him before he could decide something more intellectual as he quickly plucked the helmet off of Lucky and ushered her gently to get up.

“So this is the kid I take it,” There was humor laced in his advisor’s tone, thankfully. 

“Yes, sir.” Mash responded, ushering her up as he pushed his helmet back into her hands before pointing to another cargo box sitting a meter or so away. 

She stepped away for a time, but seemed uncertain as if to go where he pointed, or wait idly by. “We did another sweep of the ship today, as well as some research on the database here in the Temple,” Mash began. “We’re certain there was illegal activity at work. A few of us are confident this may be a trafficking run, likely connected to the Zygerrian slave trade.”

“Alright, well… I can definitely add all of this to the report, I’m sure there’ll be missions regarding the topic somewhere in the GAR, but don’t forget what the objective is for you and your team, sergeant.” Skipper worded the statement carefully, there were notes of formality but also compassion. 

“I understand, sir. Just something the boys and I contemplate in our spare time, is all.” Mash responded. “We’re thorough with our sweeps. The second we get a hit on anything, or note any droid presence we’ll contact you.”

“Good work, soldier. I know you boys are working hard. Jedi should have this sorted any day now.”

Mash nodded quietly, thumb drumming quietly on the corner of the console again, his thoughts running around in his mind.

“You seem troubled,” Skipper finally spoke up again after a beat of silence set in. “Out with it.”

“From a strictly professional standpoint, sir, my team and I have concerns regarding this civilian; her handling following the arrival of the Jedi. Where will she be transferred to? I can personally attest to her intelligence, she’ll be quite the self-starter,” Mash continued to outline some of the kid’s attributes, hoping to make a professional statement to her credit, as unbiased as possible. 

As he spoke, Lucky quietly came back into view, one hand grasping his helmet against her chest as she went to grab Mash’s hand with the other. 

The soldier reluctantly let her after trying to pull it from her grip a few times subtly, giving into the request. 

“That aside, sir, I just would formally like to request that Sergeant Baxter and I be allotted the task of organizing her file to-” A flicker on the holotable stole the words from Mash’s throat. 

“I’m losing y-... Sergeant?” The advisor flickered on and off as Mash quickly stood up and pushed a few buttons on the console, trying to boost up the signal. 

“Sir?” Mash hastily tried to reacquire the signal as the sound of static filled the room before the holotable went dark. 

“What happened?” The small voice came from his left, and caused Mash to look down, only half surprised at her question, and more so by the transmission cut… or block.

“Something’s blocking our transmission.” He responded, looking under the console in case any error lights were going off underneath. “Damned Seppies might be jamming it.” He muttered under his breath before continuing a diagnostics check.

“Damned seppies,” She repeated quietly as she stepped up to the console, helmet still in hand.

If not for the seriousness of the situation, Mash might have actually chuckled at how quick she was to mutter the phrase with disgust as Mash had. 

“Watch your language, kid. It’s darned seppies for you.” Mash took the time to scold her lightly as he worked, however he wasn’t sure what possessed him to take a soft, scolding approach to begin with.

That’s Skirata talking alright. The thought amused him.

“Darned seppies,” He heard her whisper.

“Atta girl,” He grunted quietly as he knelt down, reaching under the console to try restarting a couple systems. The Echo squad sergeant tried everything in the book before an inevitable curse left under his breath as he got to his feet. He remained silent as he let his hands rest on the rim of the console. Lucky stepped up next to him and put the helmet on the edge of the console, cradling it close to her chest as she rested her arms on the rim of the table, cheek against the side of the helmet as she rocked on her heels. Mash clenched his jaw and thought everything over. Someone was blocking their communications. That someone was almost undoubtedly the separatists. Which meant an attack was coming, and soon.

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