An Ordo moon dragon.
Something in Lance’s chest tightened for a second, then eased just as fast.
Reading the creature through the Force, he caught vigilance, curiosity, and a sharp hunger, though something about that hunger felt off from what he’d expect.
No real threat behind any of it.
So…
A faint scraping noise carried down from somewhere above.
He looked up, almost picturing the thing through the hull, drooling over the exposed wiring.
“A moon dragon with a taste for batteries?”
He got up and headed for the cargo hold.
A heavy quiet hung over the room when he got there.
The squad stood clustered together, eyes fixed on a long metal case at Omega’s feet, something complicated and sad in all their faces.
Lance walked over, glancing between them.
“What’s going on?”
Hunter looked down, exhaling slowly.
“Nothing.
Just talking about an old squadmate.”
Lance glanced at the case and understood immediately.
Objects had a way of dragging memory along with them.
“Sorry to bring it up.”
“You’ve got the wrong idea, actually.” Tech adjusted his glasses.
“Crosshair’s not dead.
He just…
left.”
That caught Lance off guard for a moment, before the math clicked into place.
Five original members, minus Omega joining fresh, left four here now.
“Crosshair.
The sniper?”
Wrecker flexed, voice booming as usual.
“Best shot in the squad.
Honestly?
Kind of miss the guy.”
Echo cut in, a little bitter.
“The scar on your shoulder came from one of his shots.
Forgot already?”
“That was the chip’s doing,” Tech said, tone level.
“So technically, that one’s not really on him.”
Hunter’s voice dropped.
The Kaminoans did something to him.
Has to be.”
Lance nodded slowly.
“All the more reason to get those chips out of your heads sooner rather than later.”
He let the topic drop there and raised a hand toward the ceiling.
“We’ve got company.”
Every expression in the room shifted at once, weapons drawn, eyes snapping upward.
“Relax.” Lance waved them down.
“It’s not a threat.
As long as nobody provokes it.”
His tone darkened slightly.
“But we need this ship fixed fast, or things are going to get complicated.”
Right on cue, the lights in the cargo hold cut out entirely, plunging the whole ship into darkness.
The dragon, guided by whatever sense it used to find energy, had already located the backup capacitor, clamped it in its jaws, and fled.
“What now?” Omega’s voice came out tight.
“We go get it back.”
Lance handed Grogu over to her, dug a breathing mask out of his pack, and pulled it on.
“Hunter.
You’re with me.”
He looked to the rest.
“Everyone else, keep working the other repairs.”
They all glanced toward Hunter, waiting on his call.
He thought it over briefly and nodded.
“Let’s move.”
The hatch opened, and the two of them stepped out into the fog.
Lance clicked on a tactical light, sweeping the beam along the hull, where deep claw marks scored the metal, four or five centimetres into the plating.
A creature that fed on raw energy, sure, but carrying claws sharp enough to shred a person in one pass.
Provoke it, and this would turn into a much bigger problem than the nexu had been.
Lucky for them, it wasn’t interested in flesh at all.
“Heard your tracking’s supposed to be excellent.”
Lance walked beside him, watching Hunter scoop up a handful of dirt and roll it between his fingers.
“What is that, exactly?”
Hunter let the dirt slip through his fingers, voice low.
“Soil moisture and footprint depth tell you size, weight, when they passed through, direction of travel.
Ground that’s just been walked on holds a trace of moisture the rest of the area doesn’t.”
Lance raised an eyebrow.
“Comes with the modifications.” Hunter straightened, staring ahead.
“Kaminoans engineered our senses.
Me, Wrecker, Echo, Tech, we each got something different out of it.”
Wrecker was built like a wall, muscle and bone reinforced well past normal trooper standards.
Somewhere along the way, though, it seemed like strength had come at the cost of subtlety.
He was blunt, direct, no patience for finesse.
Tech ran the opposite direction entirely.
Physically no stronger than a standard trooper, but sharp enough to make up for it several times over, meticulous with machines and electronics, rational to a fault.
Echo had been taken by the Separatists and rebuilt, part machine now, able to breach systems directly through the arm they’d given him.
And Hunter’s own senses ran sharper than any of theirs, built for tracking and reading a battlefield, backed by a level head that made him the obvious choice to lead.
“That’s a real gift to have.”
Enhanced senses were genuinely impressive, Lance admitted.
Still nothing came close to matching what the Force offered.
He waved Hunter forward and stepped into the fog first.
“Come on.
I already know where it is.”
Something about that landed oddly on Hunter, a quiet sense of safety settling in that he couldn’t quite place the source of.
He drew his pistol and followed close behind.
A short walk later, Lance stopped in front of a scattered pile of rubble.
Through the Force, he felt the dragon’s head snap up, startled, dropping its prize and curling tight behind a boulder.
Golden slit pupils tracked them through a gap in the rocks, wary of the two legged shapes that had suddenly appeared.
Its attention kept drifting back to the glowing flashlight, drawn by the scent of what it wanted, too cautious to close the distance.
Fierce as it looked, the thing was genuinely skittish underneath it all.
Basically a hungry stray cat, if strays came the size of a small vehicle and looked considerably more terrifying.
Lance couldn’t help finding it a little funny, reading all that nervous energy off something that size.
The light swept the rubble, and Hunter spotted the capacitor sitting on the ground.
He started to step forward, and Lance stopped him with a raised hand.
Hunter caught the signal instantly, raising his blaster instead.
The dragon tensed, sensing the threat immediately.
Lance felt the fear spike through it and reached over, pushing the barrel down gently, shaking his head.
I’ve got this.
He closed his eyes, letting the Force pour out from him in slow, spreading ripples.
The instant it touched the creature, a tangle of emotion came back clear: wariness, fear, hunger, and something fiercely protective over what it had claimed as food.
Something shifted quietly in Lance’s chest.
Emotion is a weakness.