To Heal Poignancy ■ TECH - The Bad Batch ■

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Gray hair was very much in Adla's near future.

Adla once asked herself what it would take for Crosshair to finally notice that the Empire did not, and would not, ever care about him. She guessed she finally found out.

She had been in a private meeting with Mon Mothma and Garm Bel Iblis. Well, it was supposed to be a meeting, but it was more of an argument between Bel Iblis and herself.

"There are many people who are upset with the Empire's ways. I do not understand why you don't feel the need to ally ourselves with them," Adla crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, waiting for an explanation.

Garm Bel Iblis quietly gave her a judgmental look. "And what can these average people possibly offer us? They are not in the Senate. They do not hold any position of power. They can not make the changes necessary -"

"That is where you're wrong. They hold the power to uprise, to disobey. They can fight back," Adla insisted. "They create the resources we pay for. Are you really that naive enough to believe that we can always handle this diplomatically? I, too, wish for this to be discussed in a civilized manner, but let's be real here. The notion is simply unrealistic. There will be moments where brute force may be the only option. If not, then we at least must prepare for it." She leaned back in her chair. "Tell me, Senator, do you know how to throw a punch? What about shooting a blaster? How about laser cannons while flying a ship?"

She simply watched as the Senator of Corellia grew increasingly frustrated. It was obvious to her that he was not actually listening to her. "These people are not in the Senate. They do not understand what is truly going on -"

"I was on Raxus during its transition! Trust me, the people know!"

Mon Mothma opened her mouth to interject when the door suddenly slid open.

All talking ceased to survey the newcomer. TC-60 shuffled in to let Adla know that Crosshair was back. The young woman booked it out of the meeting without another word. If she had a credit for every time she ran to Crosshair after a mission had gone wrong, she would have three credits. It's not a lot, but it's frustrating that it has happened three times now.

He had been secluded to a private medical room as he was detained. Detained for what reason, Adla was unsure. She had to beg, though, to the Coruscant Guards to be let in and see him.

As she ran past, two people she had never seen before stood off to the side in a quiet conversation. She did not pay them much attention. She absentmindedly noted that one of them did have their dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail with rose colored glasses.

"... Perhaps he will know where the girl is."

Adla flew past them and right to Crosshair's door. She flung the door open and scurried inside. There, laying on the hospital cot closest to the door, was Crosshair. He was sound asleep. A monitor beeped with his vitals next to him. His wrists and legs were strapped down onto the bed.

"What happened?" she urgently questioned the medical droid in the room.

"CT-9904 has acquired hypothermia. He will recover but for now he must rest."

"Why is he detained?"

"Unfortunately, that is private information that cannot be shared with you at this time," a smooth voice answered. Adla turned her head to the door to see the man and woman from the hallway step inside.

They both had the gray Imperial uniforms on. The man stood in front of the woman, the sides of his head were freshly shaved and his dark hair was slicked back on the top of his head. She found it to be a terrible look. Adla also found it odd that the man had one glove on, which he currently rubbed. Was the glove to cover a robotic hand? What was the purpose of one glove instead of two?