Forgive Me (Echo x Medic Reader)

Part 18

It had been months since the war had ended, almost a year. In that time, so much had changed. Worlds that had once been part of the separatist movement had undergone merciless imperial occupations; others had suffered through devastating massacres at the hands of the Empire and its many officials. The senators hadn't gotten off lightly either. Some had been forced to run for various reasons, some from rebelling against the empire, others for their acts during the war. Most, if not all, of them had stood up for what was right, both for their people and morally.

Time, however, hadn't been kind to Clones. Not only had the new Trooper Kore been brought in to replace them, but their home on Kamino had been decommissioned and destroyed as well. In the time since Order 66, many clones had broken free of the Inhibitor chip control, whether that be from sheer willpower or the chip not being as effective as it once had been. Many clones had fled the empire, and others had disappeared entirely. Those who had previously been imprisoned for treason or other unfounded accusations had been transferred elsewhere, never to be seen again.

Wolffe and (Y/N) had been on the run for most of the year. Both knew they were being hunter, or at least (Y/N) was. Over time, they had developed a small system that helped them survive. They only stopped off for fuel and supplies when needed, normally on an outer rim planet where the empire had yet to suppress or had little power. They'd do odd jobs for credits, Snap would use her skills as a medic to help those in need, and Wolffe became a mercenary for hire, using the skills from the battlefield to his advantage.

Regarding communication, the two used old Republic devices, using code words to ensure they were protected should someone undesirable stumble across the com channel they used. When landing on new planets for supplies, Wolffe always ensured the coast was clear before giving (Y/N) the signal to leave the ship. If they were hailed, on the other hand, Wolffe would be the one to answer, with Snap remaining quiet until it was determined if the caller was friendly or Empire-bound.

The pair had long since replaced the small two-person attack shuttle, suspecting they could be tracked via it. Instead, they had gotten a much larger and more comfortable ship, a VXC-100 light freighter. The ship had enough space for the pair to move around and comfortably have their own personal area. It worked as both a means of transport and a home until the time came when they found a planet to stow away on safely or the empire stopped pursuing Snap.

"Your eye playing up again?" softly asked (Y/N), taking up her normal spot in the cockpit. Wolffe grunted in response while continuing to push the ball of his hand into the mechanical eye in an effort to either stop the searing pain or silence the sound emanating from it. The sound that had been a constant since the close call with the empire the previous week. (Y/N) soon stood, intending to return to her quarters to retrieve the medical equipment she'd been collecting over the months. All things she'd need to take care of Wolffe's cybernetic, as well as properly tend to any injuries that may occur.

"My eye can wait," called Wolffe with a sigh, noticing the blinking red light on the dashboard, indicating someone was trying to contact them. "We're being hailed again," he added, waiting for Snap to return to the co-pilot chair before all but whacking the blinking button as if it was a deadly insect that needed to be squashed quickly. From the force of the whack and the groaning of the dashboard, (Y/N) was almost certain Wolffe had broken the button. His anger at their situation was likely getting the better of him again.

As normal, Snap remained quiet, listening intently as if to determine if the caller was trying to deceive them, as had happened a few times before, back when they were still finding their feet as fugitives and before they worked out their little system. Wolffe, as normal, kept his voice even but gruff, asking the caller to identify themselves in a way that few would dare refuse.