Chapter Text
Tech
No amount of heat from Tech’s thermo-regulating blacks, or his heated armor, could prevent him from shivering as Hynestia’s frigid air slammed against his body. His fingers slipped on his scanner as a heavy shiver tore down his spine, though Tech caught the scanner before it fell into the frozen, heavy permafrost crunching under his feet. The scanner pings again, snapping Tech’s gaze down to the faint signal he and Hunter, who is walking behind Tech, have been following for hours.
The Bad Batch had been dispatched to Hynestia to locate and disrupt a Separatist communications relay that was feeding information to the Neimoidia system, but they had been provided with very poor intel. All Hunter had been able to tell Tech and his brothers was that the intelligence from Hynestia was shoddy, with rough estimates towards the location of the relay that had forced Tech and his brothers to split off from each other. They had multiple points to check for the relay, too many to check together, and it had been Hunter’s choice to split the Batch into a team of two.
Crosshair and Wrecker had headed east, while Tech and Hunter had headed towards a northern coordinate, and it was while Tech and Hunter headed further from the Havoc Marauder that Tech had picked up on a faint signal. He had stopped mid-stride as his scanner, tuned to detect any form of radio frequencies, let out a weak ping as it caught the briefest hint of a foreign radio frequency.
Tech and Hunter had chased the signal over the tundra, heading further north as the signal grew ever so slightly stronger. But that had been hours prior, and the winter of Hynestia was cold and dark, and Tech could see his breath fogging under the light of his torch. They were no closer to the relay than when Tech had first caught wind of the relay’s radio frequency, and the further they trudged from their shuttle, the colder Tech was becoming.
Hynestia was infamous for its uninhabitable tundra, for its long, harsh winters and the fact that the only habitable place on the entire planet was the equator. Every hour Tech and Hunter traveled over the heavy permafrost, they risked further exposure to the cold, and it was that worry that made Tech’s focus singular on one goal.
His gaze never left the screen of his scanner as he watched the weak pulse of the radio frequency flash in and out of life, vanishing for minutes on end to suddenly reappear for seconds at a time. It was frustrating, for every time the signal vanished and recentered, Tech had to dramatically change course and head a different direction than prior.
Tech reported each change to Hunter, though he had long ago lost his battle with his frustration and was now snapping out each change in the frequency’s location, and never once looked up as he glared a hole into the screen of his scanner. Distantly, as Tech stomped along the permafrost, he heard Hunter struggle to raise comms with Crosshair and Wrecker, his older brother finally giving up with a drawn out sigh.
The signal faded out once more, the fifth time in the last minute, and, with a frustrated snarl, Tech rolled his eyes then turned away from his scanner with a stiff scowl. “Lost the signal once more,” Tech informed Hunter as he shot a glare at his scanner, furious at the device for failing him once more, then let out a low sigh.
His brothers had never before failed a mission during their two years of service to the Galactic Republic, and the thought of failure unnerved Tech - especially when it was his technology that kept failing Hunter and Tech. Hunter had already tried to detect the communication relay by its electromagnetic signature but, much like the repeated failures of Tech’s scanner, Hunter’s senses had only been able to detect the relay for a few moments at a time.
The only possible explanation Tech could think of was that the Separatist relay station’s signal was masked by the frigid gusts of icy wind that continued to assault the terrain. Tech had seen heavy, snow filled clouds cover the sky miles back, and it was possible that the planet was interfering with his scanner and Hunter’s senses-
A happy chirp sounded from Tech’s scanner just as the screen flashed to life with the relay station’s signal once more. His heart thudded in his chest as Tech hurriedly attempted to trace the coordinates and, with a quick, urgent call to Hunter, ran in the direction of the signal. His boots thudded over permafrost and freshly fallen snow, his gaze only shifting away from his scanner long enough to check the terrain that Tech was hurtling over before his gaze snapped back to the scanner.
His scanner had finally locked onto the coordinates for the relay station, and Tech could not risk losing the signal again. Not after he had finally acquired the relay’s complete coordinates and location - only a few miles from the current position he and Hunter were at.
So he hurried, all thought but for the completion of their mission and his determination to not fail his brothers forgotten.
And it was that single-minded focus that deafened Tech to Hunter’s sudden, worried shouts of his name as he ran out onto a layer of snow and permafrost-
Tech heard the unmistakable sound of ice cracking underneath his feet, felt the snow under his boots sink, and heard Hunter scream his name. Fear slammed through Tech’s body, stabbing ice spears into his heart as Tech registered what was happening underneath his feet.
He had reminded Wrecker and Crosshair of the extensive systems of caves and hot springs that carved out the interior of Hynestia, and the dangers of the hidden crevices, shafts and canyons that led down into the system of caves. And in all of Tech’s haste, he had forgotten the very warning he had given to his brothers.
The snow and ice shifted under Tech’s feet as he turned towards Hunter, Tech’s eyes wide with terror as he called his brother’s name desperately, and then the thin layer of rock holding the permafrost, snow and Tech collapsed from underneath him.
—
Hunter
Hunter raises his DC-17 hand blaster as he climbs over a fallen tree trunk. He has almost lost sight of Tech in front of him, the engineer’s white Katarn class armor disappearing into the white haze of the snow. Hunter can still hear Tech’s boots crunching under the thick permafrost and his muttered breaths as his scanner continues its difficulty in tracking the relay station’s signal.
They have been walking for hours now, trekking due north of where they landed the Havoc Marauder in a snowy clearing while Crosshair and Wrecker headed east. They have three separate points of interest to investigate and would be able to cover ground more quickly divided into two groups. The Republic’s intelligence was lackluster on the location of the comm relay on the surface of Hynestia. Yet, the front currently being fought in the Neimoidia system depended on them being able to take down this comm relay, in so doing rendering the Separatist forces unable to communicate across their multiple battle fronts. It would mean a swift victory for the Galactic Republic, and another successful mission for the Bad Batch.
Except, hours after landing in one of the planet’s southern quadrants, they are no closer to locating the station or taking it offline. Hunter is so cold, after their extended trek across the planet’s snowy tundra, he can scarcely feel his hand curled around the familiar stock of his blaster.
The mission assignment hadn’t been kind about the surface of Hynestia, detailing an inhospitable climate besides a thin ring around the equator. The planet is also home to deep underground caverns that have destabilised a lot of the Hynestia’s surface as its temperatures continue to plummet. It made a perfect location for a comm relay station, however, where it would remain undisturbed and out of the way.
That is also probably why they are struggling so hard to find it.
Wrecker and Crosshair report no progress over the comm as Hunter and Tech’s own search drags on, their check-ins fading into rough static the further Hunter and Tech walk. Hunter’s senses have proven useless while Hynestia blankets them with snowfall and buffets them with unforgiving winds that seem to cut straight through their thermo-regulated blacks.
Hunter’s little brother appears in visual range again, out from between the frozen pines, having turned abruptly on his heel to track the comm relay’s signal in a new direction. Tech appears more hopeful with the new warble of his scanner that indicates it’s picked up the station’s signal once again. He starts in a light jog to Hunter’s left that quickly breaks into a run.
Hunter huries after him, as quickly as his cold legs will allow him, only to stop abruptly when the snow begins to morph from damp permafrost to shiny pallets of ice under his feet. He comes to a skidding stop in the snow, his eyes cast out across the terrain in front of him, which Tech is already crossing in pursuit of the comm relay’s signal.
“Tech,” Hunter calls, his voice measured, but his brother continues across the unstable terrain with his eyes glued to his scanner.
The ice immediately starts to crack under Tech’s weight. Hunter hears it, like the sound of an old-fashioned gunshot piercing through his enhanced hearing. Hunter can hear the signal Tech is chasing now, as well, the same one he and his scanner are in pursuit of. However, the mission is now a secondary concern for Hunter; his attention is now focused on Tech.
The comm relay’s signal appears to have led them both onto an unstable piece of Hynestia’s terrain, where no doubt the damp ground - snow and ice - has worn down a section of a cavern to a thin sliver of rock. It could give in with one wrong move from Tech or Hunter.
“Tech,” Hunter tries again, more urgently. He dare not move again in case he disturbs the unstable ground underneath them more. “Tech, stop!”
The ice and thin layer of rock it is protecting continues to protest under Tech and Hunter’s weight. Each noise slams Hunter’s heart into his ribcage, the same as Tech’s footsteps as he continues across the unsteady terrain.
“Tech!”
Hunter’s final call of Tech’s name appears to finally draw Tech’s attention, or it could be the deafening crack of the ice giving in under his brother’s boots. It is a louder sound this time, and deeper as it reverberates through the terrain. It appears to come from Hynestia’s core, like the planet is alive and hungry for them to plunge into its depths.
Tech turns back towards Hunter. Hunter’s heart stops as he sees the realisation set into Tech’s eyes of what is happening. There is a beat of pause, where they both stare at each other, and then the ground swallows Tech whole.
Hunter’s not sure who screams each other’s name louder.
It is pure adrenaline that propels Hunter forwards and after Tech, even as the ground crumbles under his own feet and drags him down into a cacophony of rock and snow. Hunter covers the distance between them in a long dive, his right shoulder and right arm slamming into Tech’s midriff as the two of them start falling.
The feeling of weightlessness hits Hunter. His stomach drops. His head swims.
His frozen fingers shoot directly for his belt. His grappling hook is there. His gun is in his left hand. The cable feeds approximately ten metres through his tool belt. Together, they will stop them from falling and succumbing to the planet’s cold hunger.
He doesn’t look down.
In one fluid motion: Hunter swipes his grappling hook with his left hand, slams it onto the muzzle of his DC-17 blaster with his right from behind Tech’s back, levels his gun at the edge of the hole that’s getting further and further away, and fires.
The cable soars upwards through the air, up towards the light of Hynestia’s surface. It connects with a part of the rock that’s still standing above their heads.
The relief tears through Hunter only for a moment, stolen from him as the cable goes taut against his tool belt. They stop suddenly in midair, the suddenness of the motion knocking the wind out of Hunter, his blaster out of his hand, and jostling Tech from Hunter’s grasp.
Tech slips through Hunter’s right arm, but Hunter twists to grab Tech’s outstretched arm with his right hand before he can start falling again. Hunter keeps his left hand fixed firmly around the cable, holding on.
Hunter can hear himself breathing harshly once his blood stops roaring in his ears. His breaths are quick and swallow, creating puffs of frigid-white air in front of his mouth. He looks up to where his grappling hook is keeping them from falling any further, and then he makes the mistake of looking down.
The cavern below them is a long way down, even with the distance they have already fallen. Ancient snow has built up in piles, dotting the stone below in a repetitive pattern of white and grey. There are ice and stone stalactites alike that extend from the ceiling and matching stalagmites that jut out of the cavern floor.
It is easily another ten storeys before they hit the ground.
“Tech?” Hunter gasps out, his gaze shifting from the ground below them to his little brother dangling precariously from Hunter’s grasp. “Are you okay?”
He knows the answer already: not until they’re no longer dangling in the void above one of Hynestia’s caverns.
Slowly, and carefully, Hunter lowers his left hand from the grappling cable and down to his toolbelt, to begin retracting the cable that will pull them back up to the surface. Adrenaline keeps Hunter’s hand steady as he finds the correct button.
The grappling system groans as it starts, but steadily, they begin to close the distance between them and Hynestia’s surface. Hunter keeps his hand locked firmly around Tech’s vambrace where he caught him. His fingers are pressed so tightly together around the plastoid of Tech’s armor that he fears they may snap from the exertion, and the cold.
He can’t drop Tech. He won’t. He won’t let anything happen to him, not on a planet such as this. Not while they are on a routine mission that the Republic should have better-prepared for.
Hunter won’t let anything happen to any of them.
The edge of the abyss creeps closer to being within Hunter’s grasp. Except, Hunter can now also see where the grappling hook latched onto when Hunter fired it from his blaster, and that’s on the crumbling edge of the ground that’s dripping steadily with snow and-
The feeling of weightlessness hits Hunter again as the hook slips once, twice, and then, all together as the rock it’s latched onto crumbles into nothingness to join the debris of the cave-in. Hunter only has time to shout his alarm before they’re plummeting back into the cavern, down into the abyss.
—
Tech
Tech was falling.
This was not the first time Tech had ever fallen during a mission, let alone a simulation, but he had never been able to adjust to that strange feeling of weightlessness. And, as the ground beneath Tech’s feet heaved and collapsed, that weightlessness took over once again.
His mind registered the way his heart heaved in his chest, a clear sign of fear. Fear made sense in this situation, though Tech’s thoughts were anything but sensical - his mind calculated the force of his fall, the pressure of the collapsed ice and rock that was falling around him, and calculated the force with which he would hit the cavern below.
A quick calculation as Tech felt himself being pitched off his feet, the sediment and ice falling as if in slow motion, led Tech to know that he would die. He could not survive, and he would not. Hunter would hear the shattering of Tech’s bones as he hit the cavern floor far below, would hear Tech’s heart stop and would smell the stench of Tech’s dying breaths. Crosshair and Wrecker could not even make contact with them, would not know of Tech’s death, and Tech knew that his two brothers would be devastated.
His brothers loved Tech. They always had, and always would, even if Tech’s certainty on the reason for their love was unable to be calculated. Their actions expressed concern and love for Tech, yet he did not understand why his three older brothers could love him. And, as he fell into the mouth of the crevice, Tech wished he could understand why his brothers loved him.
To understand why Hunter took so much time out of his day to accommodate Tech. Why Crosshair had opened his heart for Tech and was so willing to show his love for Tech? And why Wrecker was always so willing to put his life on the line for Tech, day in and day out.
None of it made sense and, as complete and utter weightlessness hit Tech, he wished he understood his brothers. But that wish was one he’d never be able to granted, not when he was falling to his very logical death-
Armor slammed into Tech’s midriff, the sudden strike of durasteel into his person enough to make Tech’s mind reboot. His gaze turned up to see that Hunter - Hunter? No, no, no! - was holding onto Tech, his right arm looped around Tech’s back, while his left hand was scrambling with a grappling hook canister.
Hunter had caught him-
No, Hunter had jumped after Tech. Had jumped to his certain death for Tech.
He wanted to yell at Hunter, to urge Tech to let him go - even when Tech’s mind was yelling at him to cling to Hunter - but he couldn't. Not when Hunter fired the grappling hook and dropped Tech.
Tech scrambled for Hunter as he felt his brother’s grip slip on his back, clawed for purchase on his brother’s armor - on anything -, his heart racing with furious unease as he-
Pain exploded through his right arm when Tech felt Hunter’s firm hand latch onto his own, the strain relieving in nature even as Tech acknowledged the fact that his brother was endangering his life for Tech’s. The action was unsurprising for Hunter, for he had always tried to help his brothers as best as their sergeant could, but that did not entail that Tech agreed with his brother risking his life for Tech. Tech’s life was not worth Hunter’s, not when Hunter was their sergeant and older brother. Crosshair and Hunter needed Hunter. They did not need Hunter to die trying to save Tech.
Hunter was being ridiculous.
He should have marked Tech’s coordinates and finished the mission, not risked his life for Tech.
“Tech? Are you okay?”
Hunter’s question distracts Tech as he kicked uselessly at the air, drawing his focus back to their situation and to the sudden flat stare he shot his older brother. Tech was alive, but he was not okay. Not with Hunter in danger, and Tech adding deadweight to his brother.
Tech ignored his urge to answer Hunter, bit back his anxiety and need to confirm that he was worried and deeply concerned, then cast a long look down the cavern. He had never feared heights but, as Tech’s vision returned only a chasm of darkness below him, he finally understood Wrecker’s fear of heights.
He reached for Hunter with his left hand, to steady the strain on his right shoulder, as he felt his brother’s grappling hook slowly wind them towards the lip of the cavern. Tech’s fingers were mere inches from Hunter’s waist when Tech felt the tautness of Hunter’s grasp loosen slightly. Worry jolted through Tech as Hunter’s grappling hook scraped against grit then, before he could think, the grappling hook gave way.
Hunter shouted as the hook rained dirt and ice down upon Tech and Hunter, leaving them with nothing but the air and the cavern’s endless drop to contend with. Tech’s throat dried, leaving him soundless as he and his brother plummeted towards the cavern floor, his fear only flooding Tech when he felt Hunter’s arm slip from his back.
“Hunter!”
The shout rasped from Tech’s mouth as he clawed for his brother’s hand, only for his gloved fingers to slip between his brother’s fingers without any ability to hold onto Hunter. Tech thrashed as he fell, left hand snapping to his toolbelt as he tried desperately to reach his own grappling hook, his eyes shifting through the murky darkness of the cavern’s abyss for Hunter.
He could not see his brother anywhere and that absence made it so that when Tech finally - sluggishly - felt his fingers grasp the end of his grappling hook, he felt nothing but increasing worry. Tech removed the grappling hook and slammed it onto the barrel of his right hand DC-17, called for Hunter even as the rushing air ripped his voice away, aimed the barrel of his blaster towards the first glint of light he could see in the abyss of blackness, then fired.
The grappling hook slammed into rock with a deafening screech, the durasteel tines scraping down the rock face as Tech felt the grappling hook arrest his movement-
A metallic twang was all Tech heard before he felt his blaster slip from his hand and, with a sudden horrified realization that he had nothing else to stop his fall, Tech plummeted. He did not know how long he fell, but it was long enough for Tech to accept the inevitable - and wish that Hunter had not leapt to save him. Wrecker and Crosshair would not be able to find Tech or Hunter now, not at such a colossal depth… and not when they had no recent contact with their brothers to leave their remaining brothers close coordinates.
Sudden agony burst through Tech as he slammed to the ground - later analysis would reveal that his armor, and his desperate attempt to use his grappling hook, had kept him alive - the snap of bone louder even than his screams. His vision swam and wavered and, as his body gave out from the shock of whatever bone had broken in his body, Tech slipped in and out of consciousness…
“Hunter…” The weak whisper slipped from Tech, echoing off the walls of the cavern with a wavering that he couldn’t hear.
Tech winced as another wave of pain shot through his body, his teeth grinding together painfully as he tried to stay awake. He couldn’t risk falling asleep… not without a proper scan of his injuries and-
Pain and exhaustion claimed Tech, dragging him into the murky blackness of his mind that was too similar to the cavern’s chasm, and left him unaware of the danger of his injuries - or where Hunter was.
—
Hunter
Someone is calling his name. And kriff, it hurts, enough he's pretty sure he groans as his senses return full force. He's cold. His head is aching something fierce. And his mind is... quickly catching him up to the details - a mission? Crosshair complaining endlessly about the cold? An important objective... something about a comm station and… overrun Republic forces?
"Hunter..." His name trails off into the abyss and returns as an echo around his head; the same sound that roused him from whatever dreamless sleep he’s found himself in.
When the voice disappears altogether and all encompassing silence hits, awareness hits Hunter like a freight shuttle. He starts properly, sitting up with a wince.
He's laying down?
Since when?
Since - the crack of ice under his boots, the rumble of the ground as it consumed them and the snap of Hunter’s cable as it gave way. Since - the wind whistling in Hunter’s ears as he plummets into the abyss. Since - Hunter's world going dark with Tech's name on his lips.
Now, Tech is calling his name, and he doesn't sound good.
Because they fell.
How far did they fall?
"Tech?" he groans in return, slowly pulling himself back to his feet. Remarkably, the only thing that hurts is his head, and it appears he has the snowbank he landed on to thank for that. It also, however, means he's unpleasantly cold and full of dread.
Hunter can't see his little brother. He needs to see if he's alright, if the fall hurt him, if-
"Where are you? Little brother?"
Hunter stumbles over a section of snow and squints around, the white all blending into one, with the light bouncing off the four walls of the icy cave they've fallen into. Cave system, right, he remembers that from the debriefing too.
However, he didn't think he'd find himself down here. He didn’t think it would be so dark and all-encompassing. He didn’t think it was possible for him to get colder.
“Tech?” he calls again, his voice louder, but hitches off quickly as pain stabs into his head. It makes Hunter stagger again over the piles of snow. He feels blind as the white fades into grey, into dark - into the abyss they fell into. Force, how far did they fall? How hard did Hunter hit his head?
His voice shakes as he calls out again, "Tech, where are you? Are you okay?"
—
Tech
Ice cold water dripping onto Tech’s body tugged him awake, his eyes opening slowly to a vast darkness that glittered with stars. Tech blinked up at the stars, confounded and quite bewildered. He hadn’t remembered sleeping, let alone under the stars recently, so why was he seeing the stars?
Another splat of ice cold water hit Tech in the neck, the chill of ice startling but only slightly. The Havoc Marauder did not have a leak in the roof, nor could he recall any forecasts of rain from his scans when they had approached-
Hynestia?
Confusion hit Tech as hard as the strange pounding in his skull as he tried to sit up, only for fire to shoot up his spine and render him immobile. Agony hissed from Tech’s mouth as he collapsed backwards, a numbness settling over Tech as he let out weak, strained gasps. Tech could not move - that or his body refused to - and that immobility terrified Tech.
Tech could not remember why he couldn’t move and-
“Little brother?”
Hunter’s voice awakened some instinctual part of Tech’s desperation and, without realizing what he was doing, Tech struggled to move. He pressed his right arm against the ground, but was met with immediate resistance from his collarbone and right shoulder. Fear stabbed through Tech’s heart as he turned his head slowly to his right, aware of how much his neck hurt when he moved. But that pain amounted to nothing when Tech’s eyes fell upon his right shoulder.
Blood pooled underneath his shoulder where the sharp spire of a thin stalagmite jutted from his skin, staining the small drift of snow and ice red where Tech lay. His right arm was numb from pain, a small prickling that coursed up Tech’s arm as he continued to stare at the stalagmite.
He had been injured countless times since the start of the war, and had been impaled once, but never by a stalagmite. This was new, though the absence of pain was not. He had been trained to endure pain of all forms and, with a wry, miserable half-smirk, Tech thanked the Kaminoans for their brutal training.
Tech stared at the location the stalagmite had impaled through his skin, the clear source of the blood draining from his body, then tried to assess his injuries as logically as he could.
Impalement through the right clavicle. Puncture wound was mild - considerable? His vision was poor and unhelpful in the shadowed caverns, so Tech could not properly ascertain the extent of damage to his clavicle -, with moderate blood loss. Numbness down his right arm upon any attempt to move, owing to the stalagmite. Neck sore upon shifting his head to the right.
But that did not explain his inability to move.
Anxiety gnawed into Tech’s stomach, a blazing, scorching heat that greatly mocked the ice and snow he was strewn upon. He always feared when he could not move, and had been rendered such too often as a cadet from broken bones or seizures, and that fear was choking him. He couldn’t breathe as panic and worry - and where was Hunter ? - set into the marrow of his bone, his mind running with too many-
Breathe, Tech.
Crosshair’s voice hissed through Tech’s mind, the faint memory of the sniper’s fingers brushing through Tech’s sweat-soaked hair on Altor 14 stilling the rapid slamming of his heart. Tech took in a shaky breath, and continued to breathe slowly until he felt his panic subside into a broken section of his heart.
When his mind cleared, Tech remembered his prior assessment of his injuries and focused. The technician ignored the ache cutting through his entire body as he shifted his head to center, and tried to look down his body for any further injuries.
He could not see any further sign of impalement along his body, though Tech could not even move his elbows to prop himself up enough to actually see down the length of his body. Any injuries below his chest, and past his hips, were hidden from Tech, and the unknowing scared him. Tech swallowed loudly - his throat was exceptionally dry and he was thirsty - as he relented and felt his head slump to the right.
His helmet provided some cushioning against the ground, though that would soon be pointless with how utterly cold he was becoming. Tech needed to get off the ground, to prevent the ice and snow from leeching every ounce of warmth left within his body, but he couldn’t. Not even when Tech ground his teeth together and tried, only for his body to scream in protest and lurch his back to the ground once more.
Tech was immobile. Entirely and hopelessly immobile.
Tears pricked at Tech’s eyes as defeat won over his demand to survive, over his worry for Hunter, and his love for Wrecker and Crosshair - wherever they were on the surface of Hynestia, all Tech hoped was that his two brothers were safe. They would be hard pressed to find his body - and Hunter’s… - for the Havoc Marauder ’s scans could only penetrate so deep into the massive caverns that made up the entire planet. Wrecker and Crosshair could search for hours and would never find Tech or Hunter, and Tech could not fathom causing all three of his brothers to die.
Hunter’s voice had been a figment of his imagination, for Hunter had fallen. He was dead.
I’m sorry.
Tech squeezed his eyes shut then cried out for his brother, unwelcome images of Hunter’s twisted, broken body all he could see behind his closed eyes. Tech had killed Hunter, and Tech himself would die slowly, paralyzed and broken in the vast caverns of Hynestia.
All because he had been distracted.
He would never learn.
A sob cracked from Tech’s mouth, a sound that echoed throughout the caverns and mocked the technician for his foolishness, and then his cheeks burned. Tech did not fight the tears, not when he’d lost his brothers.
Not when he’d killed Hunter.
—
Hunter
Tech does not answer him.
There is only Hunter’s voice echoing mockingly off the walls of the cavern. The sound filters off into the dark, the same dark that is approaching from the four corners of Hunter’s vision as he keeps stumbling through the snow. His head hurts, and ordinarily that would concern him, but he still can’t find Tech.
They fell. Tech fell.
And Hunter is upright, Hunter can move, Hunter can speak and call out for his little brother, so Hunter is fine.
Hunter needs to find Tech.
But, all that stretches out in front of Hunter is the darkness of the underground cavern. The rock twists impossibly far into the abyss, to places where Hunter can’t even wash his senses over. His senses just tell him how cold he is, how much his head hurts, and he needs to find Tech.
Because Tech fell. Tech could be hurt. Tech could be-
Force.
Is Hunter looking for his little brother, or…? Or his…? His…?
The blackness in his vision overwhelms him suddenly, and Hunter’s knees buckle, sending him crashing back into the snowy cavern floor. His right shoulder slams into the rough ground, meaning white stars flash in front of his darkening vision. The pain - and the stark contrast to the blackness trying to consume him -force himself to keep a vice grip on consciousness. It’s the same consciousness Hunter only just regained, roused by… Tech’s voice? Had he truly heard Tech’s voice? Or is it another trick of the darkness?
It would help if his head stopped hurting. If the cavern stopped spinning. If he wasn’t so cold.
Numbly, Hunter’s left hand - the one not attached to his now-throbbing shoulder - moves to the space between his thigh gauntlet and shin guard. There, he can pinch his skin through his blacks and ground himself. Which is ironic, considering how the ground just swallowed them whole. How far they just fell.
Hunter can’t feel his fingers, but he does feel the pressure against his leg when he pushes against his blacks. There, the blackness from his vision slowly fades as Hunter orientates himself. The cavern does not stop spinning entirely, but his senses collect slowly as Hunter presses harder - to the point it feels like his frozen fingers might snap. But he keeps going, until he can reach his senses out across the cavern in a manner that makes sense ; that is not the all-encompassing blackness that threatens to consume Hunter.
His senses tell him they are roughly one-hundred feet from the surface of Hynestia - their mission. They tell him the wind continues to whip above them, undisturbed by the shifting of the ground as the cavern’s roof gave in. They tell him-
“Hunter!”
Tech.
Hunter needs to find Tech.
The darkness makes it hard to think. But he is more orientated now, in that his senses aren’t thrumming in time to the pain in his head. The cavern is no longer an abyss, but returns to a cave where they fell, one-hundred feet below the surface of Hynestia, where they were assigned. A comm station. The Republic’s forces.
Tech.
Tech fell.
Hunter groans again - in pain, in frustration, in worry. He is determined, though, and pulls himself to his hands and knees on the frozen ground. His body holds him as he catches his breath and wills his vision to stop spinning.
“Hunter-” Tech’s voice, again, but it chokes off into a heartbreaking sob that stirs energy back into Hunter’s limbs. Adrenaline, Hunter’s mind provides him; the same mind he ignores as it presses on about his aching head, throbbing shoulder, the fact he fell too-
“Tech,” Hunter calls for him in return, but his voice is too quiet, too marred by the cold and the dark and the absolute agony tearing through Hunter’s head.
Because they fell. They fell over one-hundred feet. Tech fell. Tech is crying out for him and Hunter needs to find Tech.
“M’coming, Tech. Tech. Where are you? I’m coming.” It is the sound of Tech’s hitched breaths - sobs - that hold Hunter upright as he staggers back to his feet. The cavern is still dark - as the only source of the light is one-hundred feet above their heads from where they fell. But Hunter’s enhanced senses can hear Tech, and he’s somewhere to Hunter’s right. “Tech,” he keeps up the litany as he stumbles through the snow, willing - commanding - his vision to stay straight. “Tech, m’coming, little brother. I’m coming. I’m here.”
Hunter can never get used to the sound of any of his brothers crying. Crosshair cries quietly, but Hunter can always hear it - how he carefully times his breaths through his tears, but also how his body betrays him as his chest quivers with emotion. Wrecker cries loudly in comparison, and it’s such a poignant, gut-wrenching sound that Hunter can do nothing but hold on and tell him he’s there. And Tech - Tech usually cries somewhere in-between, but Hunter has never heard Tech cry like this.
Force.
Hunter’s heart is in his throat as he navigates the cave, by way of sound - tracking Tech by the horrible sobs choking out of his little brother’s mouth. His senses are orientated somewhat more, after the adrenaline flooded into him, and after he tried to ground himself, but it definitely wouldn’t have been enough to track Tech through the cold. He keeps his footing on the snow drifts. He forces his vision to see straight. He commands the blackness away from himself because he needs to find Tech.
And then he finds Tech, and everything suddenly is so much worse. Tech is sprawled on his back, halfway in a snow-drift, up against a section of cavern that climbs up to the roof. Where he lies, there is a collection of sharp stalagmites that climb up and out of the ground. One of them juts at a sickening angle through Tech’s right shoulder and-
Hunter can smell Tech’s blood. Hunter can smell Tech’s unabated fear and agony, and-
“Tech.”
Hunter nearly loses his battle with the darkness as he races to his brother’s side. It is nearly pitch black in the section of the cave where Tech came to rest - or maybe that’s a product of Hunter losing control of his senses again. He doesn’t care, not while so much distress rolls off his little brother. Not while he is bleeding from where he is impaled. Not while he is crying.
“Tech, Tech. I’m here.” Tech’s eyes are closed as Hunter crashes to his knees beside him. He sets his hand on his brother’s good shoulder, frozen fingers gripping the pauldron to shake him slightly, to rouse him out of his… his tears.
Tech is sobbing. Tech is… not only in physical agony, but in emotional agony too. The two smell distinctly different, and it’s by luck of the draw that Hunter’s enhanced sense of smell is the sense that hasn’t given up on him after he hit his head.
Does Tech… think Hunter is dead?
Oh, Force.
“Little brother.” Hunter leans closer, to where he can take Tech’s helmeted head in both his frozen hands. But he is careful not to move his head, not after Tech fell, not with the myriad of other injuries that could be hidden under his brother’s armor.
The white Katarn-class commando armor is designed to protect them from enemy fire. Tech’s is designed specifically by him, but it couldn’t possibly save him from this. Not falling. Not the stalagmite jutting through Tech’s shoulder. Not the… horrible angle of Tech’s leg that Hunter suddenly becomes aware of, and he glances down his brother’s form again.
Tech is hurt. Tech… could die here.
Hunter’s frozen fingers dig into the plastoid of Tech’s helmet, trying to rouse his little brother from the grief that’s currently tearing through him.
“Little brother,” Hunter repeats, softer now, as Tech continues to sob. “I’m here. It’s Hunter. I’m here.”
—
Tech
Warmth suddenly jarred against Tech’s side, though he did not register the source of heat for his overwhelming grief. Hunter had leapt into the chasm to save Tech. His older brother had sacrificed himself for Tech. Hunter, the man whom Tech had respected and loved for so many years, was dead.
Because of Tech. Because of his insatiable thirst for knowledge and his desperation to complete the mission. Tech’s technology, that which Tech owed part of his name too, had failed him and failed his brothers.
If he had detected the signal earlier, instead of the faulty traces his field scanner had struggled to hold for even minutes at a time, then Hunter would still be alive. Hunter would never have had to jump to attempt to save Tech, had his field scanner worked. What use was Tech if his very name sake failed his brothers and led to the loss of his older brother and sergeant?
Another sob cracked from his mouth in a desperate gasp for forgiveness, before something jostled his left shoulder. Tech ignored the touch, so drowned was he in the swamp of grief and self-loathing that had overtaken his mind. He did not even notice when the contact on his shoulder shifted and, gently, held his helmeted head.
Hunter had always protected Tech, be it on Kamino or during the war, and Hunter had paid with his life. Tech whispered out an apology as his tears burned inside his goggles, soaking the frame of his lens without the technician’s ability to hold back his tears.
Hunter’s voice wavered over Tech, yet another cruel imagining of his exceptional mind. The very mind that Tech held confidence in, and the only part of his being he ever valued. Tech was wickedly intelligent, wise, and dangerously creative in all aspects of ideas and imagination. To hear Hunter’s voice was to be faced with the negative that came with Tech’s enhanced mind and intelligence.
His older brother was dead, a twisted, mangled form of limbs, plastoid and brilliant fervor that Tech has caused. He was, after all, the root cause of everything wrong with the Bad Batch. Tech was their weakness, proven by Crosshair’s admittance of how much Tech mattered to the stern sniper, and the weakest link. Where his brothers were true soldiers and eager fighters, Tech was a pacifist who betrayed his ideals for his brothers’ safety.
Tech had never desired the violence of war, and did not thirst for a means to expel his emotions and anger as his brothers and his brethren did. All Tech had ever wanted was to live with his brothers on a peaceful planet, and in a house he and his brothers made together. War had changed his brothers and himself, and none for the better.
Crosshair was colder, his expressions and body language impossible to read now, yet he still was Crosshair. Wrecker’s cheerfulness seemed forced at times, his eyes - one cybernetic and one real - focused into a distant place Tech did not know himself. And Hunter? The war, and Tech, had killed Hunter, a sacrifice Tech’s brother should never have offered.
Tech was stranded in the depths of Hynestia’s underground caverns. He would perish from frostbite and hypothermia, if nothing else, and Hunter had died for this. For Tech, who was going to die, all while Crosshair and Wrecker knew nothing.
Crosshair, Tech’s best friend and fiercest supporter, would lose his best friend and Hunter in one mission, and all because of Tech. Anger and self-loathing flared through Tech as he tried to clench his fists, the fingers of his right hand stiff as they brushed against plastoid-
Plastoid?
Confusion rattled through Tech as he fished around desperately with his right hand - movement that almost made his lungs heave with agony as needles of fiery pain shot up his arm - and felt the rough scrape of plastoid against his gloves. Real plastoid. Rougher than Tech’s own, but plastoid nonetheless. Which meant…
“Hunt’?” Tech’s voice croaked out as he slowly opened his eyes and peered up at the owner of the plastoid he had latched onto, a desperate hope behind the broken sound of his brother's name.
Dark gray armor met his fogged gaze - Tech needed to remove his goggles to see, for possibly the first time in his life, he realized - as Tech threaded the fingers of his right hand against the armored, dark gray plastoid that was Hunter. His brother was alive? Hunter was alive ?
Impossible. His brother had fallen because of Tech. He was dead.
But his brother’s plastoid felt real. Hunter’s warmth was real.
Slowly, Tech moved his left arm, entirely aware of the pins and needles that shot up his arm as he moved his arm across his chest. Tech laid his hand on Hunter’s wrist, his thumb digging against his brother’s armor as Tech attempted to ground himself and his reality with Hunter’s presence.
“Hunter…” Tech’s voice wavered as he slowly moved his left hand up Hunter’s arm, stopping only when he could feel his palm rest against Hunter’s helmet.
His brother was alive!
Hunter was alive. He hadn’t died. Hunter was here.
Tech rubbed his thumb against the side of Hunter’s helmet then, quietly and with a crack to his voice, he whispered, “I thought… I thought I lost you…”
—
Hunter
After a moment, Tech’s hand moves to weakly brush Hunter's wrist. The movement is slow and sluggish, making Hunter’s breath freeze in his throat. Is Tech even properly conscious? Is he delirious from the pain, from the cold? Or from something else all together? Is he…?
“Easy,” Hunter whispers, his voice lower now, as he tilts Tech’s head just-so, so he can try and peer into his goggled eyes. Which are brimming with tears, the goggles having fogged over as a result of the emotions ripping through Tech. Tech does think Hunter is dead.
“Hey,” he says, his voice soft again, while Tech’s hands wind instead around both of Hunter’s wrists, holding on. Hunter feels a painful smile tug at his mouth, underneath his helmet. “I’m here, it’s okay. I’m okay, Tech.”
“Hunter…” Tech’s voice wavers in return, registering that finally, Hunter is alive. It doesn’t help the hurt that continues to tear through Hunter, remembering the sounds of Tech’s broken cries; his desperate voice as he called out for him.
His hand slowly wanders up Hunter’s arm and comes to rest on the side of Hunter’s helmet. It freezes Hunter’s breath in his throat again. Tech is aware enough to recognise him, to move. But he’s still hurt. Hunter still hurts, too, but he can push that down while he watches Tech’s pain slowly unravel in front of him.
“I thought… I thought I lost you…”
Hunter’s chest joins his head, and shoulder, in aching furiously. It is not helped by the crack to Tech’s voice as he trails off, nor as he rakes his frozen thumb across the side of Hunter’s helmet.
“No,” Hunter replies, with emotion in his own voice. He still has Tech’s head in his hands, can still see the tear tracks and how his goggles had fogged up. “I’m here. I’ve got you. Let’s…” Hunter glances down Tech’s body again, wincing as he sees the stalagmite jutting out of his shoulder, and the horrible angle his leg is twisted at. “Let’s get you sorted out, okay?”
Hunter found Tech, but now saving Tech is going to be a whole new battle. The thought from just before returns, while he waited for Tech’s awareness to return, that Tech could die here. From his injuries, from the cold, from something else all together.
Maybe, the floor of the cavern could give in again and they fall deeper into the earth, for their brothers to never find them again. Wrecker and Crosshair are still out there, somewhere. They won’t know what has happened to them. Maybe they would never find out.
Another glance over Tech tells Hunter that Tech’s pack is damaged, no doubt from the fall. Maybe it even saved him, with how the plastoid is deformed and warped where it is strewn. Though, getting comms back online is a secondary concern currently to stabilising Tech’s injuries.
“I’m going to take your helmet off.” Hunter is incredibly gentle in how his fingers fumble for the clasps underneath Tech’s chin, and gentle again as he lifts the custom piece of armor from over Tech’s head. Thankfully, there are no other injuries that betray Tech’s skin hidden underneath, though the rest of his body is going to be a different story.
Hunter can start from the top - literally. Tech’s head. Which doesn’t look injured, just flushed from the cold and where he has been crying. A head injury is the first assessment, and easiest, considering Tech is conscious. Hunter’s mind runs down the checklist that Tech has drilled into them all many times over, even as Hunter’s thoughts struggle to organise themselves. Even as hurt and panic and concern flood him.
Tech could die here. Wrecker and Crosshair might not find them. They need to find a way out, but Tech is hurt. Really hurt. And Hunter can’t even see straight, with how his vision twists with the blackness as turns away for a moment, to set Tech’s helmet to one side.
They could both die here.
Focus, Hunter.
“Do you remember what happened?” he asks, first.
Hunter takes off his own helmet, setting it beside Tech’s discarded one. The plastoid brushing against his scalp twinges his aching head, nearly to the point of seeing stars, but he pushes it down as he washes his eyes back over Tech. The blackness retreats at his command this time as Hunter readjusts himself on the frozen ground, fingers hovering firstly over the puncture injury.
That’s the second thing to address, as Hunter works down the list of possible injuries for a one-hundred feet fall. Or is it? His thoughts don’t exactly feel reliable at the moment, especially with how his senses continue to twist out of his control, in time to the panic thrumming through him.
For now, he can focus on the most immediate injury, while he assesses Tech for a concussion. The puncture wound looks like, and smells like, a clean impalement. Hunter can smell Tech’s blood, so much more poignantly without the filter of his helmet, but there’s nothing else - no disturbed hiss of Tech’s lungs where something has been ruptured internally by the stalagmites.
Hunter can also smell the distress rolling off his little brother in waves. He did think Hunter was dead - and probably blamed himself for the fact, with how Hunter jumped after him. Force, Hunter has so much to cover, but Tech’s physical injuries take priority. Head injury, puncture wound. Range of movement? His leg?
There is so much. And that’s before Hunter has to get him off the ground, to keep him warm, and calm. How can he do that if he’s not calm?
—
Tech
“I’m here.”
Hunter’s reassurance echoed in Tech’s mind as he continued to stare at Hunter, his brother’s movements fumbling as Hunter shifted his fingers underneath Tech’s chin. Tech felt his brother’s fingers unclasp his helmet’s chin strap then, gently, Hunter pulled Tech’s helmet off - all the while Tech’s heart ached that he could not see Hunter’s eyes.
Behind his helmet, Hunter was unreadable. Tech could not tell whether Hunter was worried or angry, or even anxious, and his brother’s state of health was blocked behind his dark gray plastoid. Worry bled into Tech’s chest as Hunter ran a routine diagnostic of Tech’s head and neck, though it was never for Tech himself.
Hunter had fallen into the cavern along with Tech and, as Tech tried to see through his fogged goggles, a chasm all of its own opened up inside Tech. Hunter did not seem himself as his fingers palpated Tech’s head and neck, for Hunter’s visor seemed to dip at times in a very-un-Hunter-ish manner that drew Tech’s fogged vision to his brother’s right shoulder.
Tech lowered his hand from Hunter’s helmet, though he did not allow his hand to fall away from his brother or Hunter’s warmth, as Tech rested his left hand against the plastoid of Hunter’s thigh armor. Fear boiled within Tech’s chest as he dug his fingers into plastoid, far too worried for his older brother. Hunter wasn’t well. He did not seem like Hunter. He seemed… off.
“Do you remember what happened?” Hunter asked before Tech could prod his brother over his strange behavior, the question enough to distract Tech.
He opened his mouth to answer until Hunter’s hands shifted away from Tech and, carefully, removed the dark gray and white helmet from his head. Tech squinted at his older brother as Hunter placed his helmet down beside Tech’s, Tech’s desperation to see his brother and to know whether Hunter was okay, nearly pushing Tech to his elbows - until Hunter’s hand shifted over Tech’s right shoulder.
Hunter looked upset as his eyes tracked over Tech’s injury, and it was his brother’s expression that radiated anything but calm that truly made Tech realize how off Hunter was. His older brother never acted so uncertain, never hovered and waited as long as Hunter was now, and Tech knew it was because of Tech’s injuries.
The sharp scent of blood had always turned Hunter’s stomach, just as much as the anxiety and fear and agony coursing through Tech at the very moment would only be hurting Hunter further. Hunter was alive, Tech reminded himself as he took a deep breath - noting as he did that his ribs did not protest in any manner that indicated a broken rib, though Tech could not be certain -, and settled his racing emotions.
Tech closed his eyes for a long inhaled breath and felt everything inside his heart - turmoil, fear, agony, worry and desperation - fade into a numb emptiness. His emotions would be of no use while he and Hunter were trapped underneath the surface layer of Hynestia, so there was no hesitation in Tech as he suppressed everything he felt for Hunter. He had to protect Hunter and the only way Tech knew was to be the rational and calm Tech, not overly worried and fretting Tech.
As Tech’s calm returned and his fear fled, he retracted his left hand from Hunter, then pulled his goggles off his face so that they hung loosely at his neck - hopefully his goggles would dry, even in the ice-cold air of the underground cavern. With his goggles removed, Tech’s vision was blurred only by his natural eyesight and the pricking of tears and, for the first time, he could see better without his goggles.
Tech could see well enough to locate where the blur of Hunter’s face was so, gently, he reached up and brushed his hand along Hunter’s cheek.
“Hunter,” Tech breathed as he tried to soothe his older brother with the distracting texture of his gloves rubbing over Hunter’s cheek, “breathe. Please.
“I remember the cracking of the ice. I recall falling and you catching me, then the failing of your grappling hook. We fell, but I do not remember hitting the ground except for the agony. I cannot move, though I do not know whether I am paralyzed or whether I pinched a nerve within my spine. I am alright. Cold, but alright.
“I am just glad you are here. That you are alive.”
—
Hunter
Tech remembers. Tech remembers, he’s here, he’s aware, he’s alive. Major head injury is checked off. Range of movement-
Tech is still talking, but Hunter starts hearing static as he says, I cannot move. If Tech doesn’t know if he’s paralysed or not. And, Force, Hunter moved his head. Removed his helmet. He could have hurt him. He could have paralysed him.
A hand is touching his cheek. Either he hadn’t noticed before, or, he finally forces himself to anchor onto the repetitive motion of Tech’s hand on his face. Tech is comforting him. Tech is hurt. Tech could be paralysed, Tech could die.
“I am just glad you are here. That you are alive,” Tech says, and his hand does not pause in how it strokes across Hunter’s cheek. His voice sounds calmer than before, nothing how his voice sounded when he cried out for Hunter.
Tech should not be comforting him. Focus, Hunter.
“I’m okay,” he says, though he knows it is anything but. “I mean, I’m not hurt. You are. We need to get you sorted out.” His eyes wander to Tech’s shoulder, where Hunter’s hand still sits on top of Tech’s cuirass, right below where he has been impaled by the stalagmites.
Force, the sight of it makes him feel sick. Makes the blackness in his vision swirl. Makes his senses scream at him, like before. The stench of Tech’s blood is overwhelming. No, no, he had to check range of motion first, now that the head injury is checked off. Yet, he can’t quite summon the strength to remove his hand from Tech’s chestplate, as he can feel the rise and fall of Tech’s chest underneath his frozen fingers. He can feel Tech’s fingers continually moving across his cheek. Both motions are repetitive, and grounding.
Focus.
“Okay,” Hunter breathes, as he wills calm into his voice. He needs his hands to stop shaking. His thoughts to stop racing. “Okay. Spinal injury, Tech? Should we start… uh… motor scoring? See if you can move your feet?”
No, but one of his legs is broken. Force, that’s something else he has to deal with. Focus. Focus, focus-
The hand over Tech’s chest curls into a fist. Hunter’s head pounds in time to the beating of his heart, a sound he is now hyper aware of as his fingers dig into his gloved palm.
—
Tech
Hunter’s “I’m not hurt” stuck in Tech’s throat as he continued to rub his thumb roughly against Hunter’s cheek - a sensation Tech hated putting his brother through, but one he hoped would snap his older brother into focus. Tech could hear his brother’s strained words, those which he could practically feel pierce through his hand and travel down to his left shoulder as Hunter spoke. His brother was scared, and that made Tech swallow noticeably.
Hunter’s next statement only pushed that fear further against Tech’s chest and heart. Hunter repeated the word “okay” twice before he turned his attention to Tech’s prior statement and breathed, “Spinal injury, Tech? Should we start… uh… motor scoring? See if you can move your feet?”
Oh stars.
Hunter was terrified. Hunter wasn’t just scared, he was terrified. Terrified that Tech was paralyzed and unable to move, as Tech had so blithely suggested. None of Tech’s brothers were ever as calm as he was during a patient assessment, nor were Wrecker or Hunter very good patients themselves. Tech’s matter of fact nature had only induced further stress upon Hunter, and Tech needed to focus Hunter quickly, lest his brother completely lose himself.
Tech’s hours upon countless hours of training kicked in as he shifted his hand away from Hunter’s cheek and to the crown of Hunter’s skull. He had to focus Hunter first, no matter the furthering of his own injuries. The technician knew he could not see but he could feel and, with a sigh of acceptance, Tech closed his eyes and focused his entire mind on the sense of touch.
Slowly, yet with a pressure to Hunter’s skull Tech detested inwardly, Tech shifted his fingers through Hunter’s hair. Tech’s fingers coursed through Hunter’s hair from the base of his skull, a careful inspection Tech conducted completely blinded as he moved his left hand from the left side of Hunter’s skull to the right. Each movement and delicate push against Hunter’s skull was purposeful in Tech’s intent to locate any injuries his brother could have suffered and, when Tech’s fingers slipped above Hunter’s right ear, he paused.
His mind immediately measured a raised bump above Hunter’s ear, one that, with a careful press of Tech’s index finger, Hunter responded to negatively. Hunter’s injured, his brother’s response said and, when Tech shifted his fingers further, he felt his gloves slickening against what could only be blood.
Laceration to the right temporal region, bleeding, with a raised welt.
Possible concussion.
Must induce a cognitive evaluation and visual test to confirm suspicions towards the patient’s concussion. Patient needs to rest in a darkly lit area - cavern - as well as apply a cold compress to the raised welt - snow.
Focus.
Tech let out a breath before he pulled his gloved hand away from Hunter’s injury, taking care to not brush the blood slicked gloves anywhere near Hunter’s face, then allowed his arm to slump onto Hunter’s lap. He dug at the waist of Hunter’s armor slightly, using the plastoid to ground himself before Tech rested his head to the cold ground.
The Kaminoans and the personal trainers had always emphasized the chart of importance for battlefield care, and spine stabilization was always of first importance. Tech knew that Hunter was alone, and thus could not have anyone hold Tech’s head stabilized while Hunter tested Tech’s body for motor response. Tech would have to remain entirely still and stabilized while his brother worked and, with his eyes still closed, Tech kept the line of his head, neck and spine straight.
A seriousness settled into Tech as he remembered the chart he’d been tasked to memorize for hours, then began to direct his older brother. Once Hunter took care of Tech, he would help Hunter in turn, for Tech knew that he could not help Hunter at his current state. For once, Tech had to put himself over his brother.
And that started with life threats. Tech could talk and hold a conversation, so his airway and breathing were clear. His circulation and the cold leaching into his bones were potential dangers, and ones Tech needed Hunter to address first.
“Hunter, I need you to first check circulation in my arms as well as my legs. I have locomotion in my left arm, and was able to move the fingers of my right hand, but I do not have any capability to feel my legs at this instance. Once you have checked for circulation in each leg, I need something to prevent the rest of my body heat from leaching away. Your pack, as well as mine, should have a few emergency thermal blankets that you will need to shimmy underneath my body.”
There was no safer option to protect Tech’s spine in the process but he would take a spinal injury over hypothermia any day. Soothingly, Tech detailed out the best way for Hunter to push one of the emergency thermal blankets underneath Tech’s back - a suggestion Tech suspected would hurt, but one he’d accept entirely over the frigid chill eating at his marrow.
Tech did not wait for Hunter to move before he reminded his brother of the head-to-toe examination, his voice and Tech’s everything as calm as a still lake as Tech explained the process of palpating along his body and spine to Hunter carefully and methodically. He knew that Hunter was entirely familiar with the process of palpating but, as Tech spoke, he felt his lingering anxiety fade away. The head-to-toe examination would reveal whether Tech’s worry over paralysis was correct or inaccurate. Tech hoped, for Hunter’s as well as his, that his initial fears of immobility were wrong.
Before Hunter moved to begin, Tech carefully pressed his left hand against the thinner plates of plastoid that covered Hunter’s stomach. The gesture was both a selfish need for warmth as well as it was the need to comfort Hunter that Tech was going to be okay, and one he did not pull away from. Not until Hunter was focused and calm. Not until Hunter’s breathing leveled.
I will be okay, Tech signed against Hunter’s stomach plates, the tapped out message one Tech knew Hunter would hear and remember.For it was a lie, just as Tech’s calm ice shelf was ever so slowly starting to melt back into the sea that was his overwhelming emotions. He just needed to hold control long enough for Crosshair and Wrecker to find Hunter and himself, and then… then Tech could allow himself to fall into the fathomless depths of his sea.