The Bad Batch: One Shot Collection

Through the Rampart

Author's Note: Rampart is kinda out of character in this fic just to make the plot make sense, so no one think too deeply into it. xD

I think the real backstory of this fic is something like this but... XD Once upon a time, Rampart woke up in the morning and went like "JuSt LoOk At How CoOl I Am MurdEring TheSe InNOcEnt ClonES. Why WaS I So Mean AbOUt It? In FaCt, wHy Am I AlWaYs So MeAN?"

To Gildawraith: I don't think this was exactly what you had in mind when you asked for this fic, but hopefully you still like it. :)

~ Tirana Sorki

After Desix, when Crosshair is called to Rampart's office again, he was expecting a mission, not for the Admiral to... kidnap him. The Batch weren't expecting an Imperial ship to crash on Ord Mantell either, with Rampart who claims to have defected from the Empire and brought Crosshair and Cody with him.

It's another normal day since Kamino – all of them blend together. Crosshair's attempting to eat in the morning, when he hears a voice over the intercom, calling him to Rampart's office. Again.

...So much for getting the chance to finally eat his soup today.

It means another mission.

Another... day of nothingness, that fails to do anything to fill the emptiness inside of him. He moves robotically to Rampart's office, to hear his next orders.

Except, he's not expecting to hear that apparently Cody's gone AWOL.

Rampart leans forward on his desk, studying him. Crosshair stares back at him blankly. But there's something about the Vice Admiral's expression that doesn't seem quite right. He's unusually tense, rigid, like something's wrong. Maybe it's about whatever the next mission is.

"Drink this," Rampart tells him, shoving a glass across the desk over to him.

Crosshair just stares at him.

He's had many strange orders in the past. Not one quite this bizarre.

Something about this isn't right, but it's not for him to question these orders. Doesn't really matter why he's demanding that of him, anyway.

"We don't have much time," Rampart urges.

Time for what?

Crosshair picks up the glass, downing it in a single gulp. It's only seconds before the world around him suddenly starts feeling fuzzy, and he blacks out.

***

"What class of freighter is this?" Hunter asks, holding up Tech's datapad for Omega to see.

"Class four," she chirps.

"Why are their cargo containers considered different?"

"They're equipped with reentry thrusters."

"Very good," he compliments, passing the datapad back to her.

They're teaching everything about the life of a soldier, but Hunter wishes there was... something more they could give her. Maybe they could have if they'd gotten something from the war chests on Serenno, but he knew it was a risk and a foolish one to go there in the first place. The Imperial troops there saw them. The last thing they need is the Empire on their tail again. Omega's not like them, and she's just a kid – but she never gets to be. Even if she seems content. Usually. There are times she seems restless and distant too. Maybe it's just that all of them have been different since Kamino.

Omega never looks at him the way she used to. She always used to look up to him, but now it's... more distant. He knows they've been growing apart, and he doesn't know what to do about it. Moments like it now, it doesn't always feel like it, but then something happens that reminds him of how true that is. (Sometimes he wonders if he'll lose her too, like Crosshair. If he'll lose everyone. Or maybe the question is who he's going to lose next.)