revivalproject | Log // Networkish

Entry tags:

Log // Networkish - Homecoming

WHO: Cal Kestis, BD-1 and anyone else
WHERE: Between the Bishop and Agra 10
WHAT: Returning to Agra 10. Things could have gone better.
WHEN: Uhh today (10/14)
WARNINGS: N/A

There have been a few things going through Cal's mind ever since he'd set foot back upon the Bishop and they'd left the Agrii mothership. He hovers near the cockpit, eyes straining towards the planet of Agra 10 as they make their approach, a frown marring his brow as he observes the swirling masses of clouds that hang over Temba's whereabouts. "...I have a bad feeling about this," he murmurs, and over his shoulder, BD-1's low beeping echoes his sentiment.

From above it certainly looks like a storm, which can't bode well for anyone, given the last actual storm they'd had to endure. As they make their descent, his hand tightens over the seat he stands by. He's not sure how to describe what he senses through the Force, save that it puts him at unease. He can feel his connection with it slip like a slick rope being grasped at by wet hands, just before the entire ship suddenly drops, lights and systems cutting out. At least he trusts Poe can get them on the ground in relatively one piece, but they're not the only shuttle out here, and as they begin to plummet, he can see nothing but forest coming to meet them.

...

He's sure the heaviness of his body isn't only from being jarred about by the rough landing as he pushes himself upright. "...everyone okay..?" It takes what he feels like extra effort just to get to his feet, but he checks around the shuttle to make sure the rest of their small crew is all right before staggering towards the open hatch. Squinting against the rain that gets blown in, he pulls out his communicator, even as he tries to see anything beyond the trees and wind-whipped rain.

<< This is Cal from aboard the Bishop. We crash-landed well outside the city. Lost track of everyone else, systems failed upon planet reentry. Is everyone all right? Please check i- >>

His voice trails off as he catches movement, or what he thinks to see as movement, out in the stormy woods. Swallowing, he shakes his head, bringing his other hand to pat BD-1 before he pulls up the hood of his poncho over his head. "I'm sure they're all right," he assures the droid, of that much he's confident of. "I don't think it wants to outright kill us." Although it's sure doing a good job of coming close.

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A single moment, and Echo figures shuttles like the Bishop are not so different from LAATs upon reentering the atmosphere. This isn't something he thinks about in this particular moment, not expecting to see Cal up near the cockpit when he exits his own room to see if anything has changed since leaving the mothership. His helmet is tucked under an arm as he approaches the young Scrapper, making enough noise to get his attention so that he doesn't accidentally surprise him.

"Something wrong?" Of course he asks. It's almost hardwired, asking about certain statuses regarding weather patterns or previous field reports and any possible updates on the situation they're all about to face planet-side. With how talkative Cal is feeling, his gaze then shifts toward the stormy masses ahead, narrowing slightly at what awaits them down below. "...This can't be good. Is this what everyone's been tel– "

Anything else he's had to say goes out a window the second the shuttle drops, forcefully throwing him back against the side of the corridor without warning...

+++

He's not sure how they've managed to survive the sudden crash landing.

He's not even sure how he held on for dear life, but it must have worked. Because now everything is set at an angle and his armor has saved him from getting horribly battered on the way down.

The ARC Trooper groans somewhere further down the way, holding the side of his head as he gropes for another handhold. "I guess that could've been worse..." He squints, gathering his strength to pull himself upright before finding his feet. And his helmet. Can't forget the helmet.

Time still matters, however. Despite not having all of his bearings, Echo manages to get everything together, even heading back to the bunk to get his blaster in case anything decides to attack them outside of the shuttle itself. "Cal?" he calls, the vocabulator filtering his voice once the seal shuts on his helmet. "Cal? You alright?"

Vaguely aware of the sound of movement behind him, at least Cal freeze once he turns and finds the visage of a clone trooper staring at him. It helps that he's had time to acclimate to having Echo around. Still, his expression is grim as he looks at the man.

"Y...yeah, I think," he replies, glancing back out towards the rain. He tries not to lean too heavily against the frame of the hatch, hoping the strange exhaustion will pass, having his doubts. "The storm... it does strange things. It's a struggle trying to connect with the Force." Raising his head, he looks back over his shoulder at Echo.

"I don't know how much you've heard about what these storms do. To the Agrii, they're lethal. To us...it has the potential, but just walking out in it won't do you in. But you might see things...people you knew..." he warns.

It's been all kinds of awkward ever since they both found out they were in the same crew, the tension palpable yet not as intense as it could have been. Echo keeps the blaster pointed downward, less formal in his usual stance as his faceless visor takes in Cal's current expression.

He has heard about how dangerous the storms can be to the Agrii. Watching Cal struggle against its effects automatically switches him over to offering a hand if he needs the support. But it's the part about seeing things that's new to him.

"What?" His tone, initially incredulous, barely hides a new type of concern.

Echo's consideration is appreciated, and all the more is Cal glad that they'd gotten certain details out of the way before things could get awkward. Well, more awkward. But now they've got something worse to deal with.

The padawan straightens carefully from the hatch, holding a forestalling hand out towards Echo, thoughtful as the gesture is. The wind continues to throw rain into the ship, sending Cal's poncho billowing up with the gusts that blow in. BD-1 hoots cautiously as he watches the weather outside, but it doesn't seem to be shifting for the better.

"...ghosts, for lack of a better word. This is the second storm BeeDee and I have been in. The first one, we made the mistake of thinking we could just get to the bottom of it, find the source- it was way out in the mountains and several ships were headed out to do the same. I think it was the first real storm anyone had experienced before then, and we'd just arrived.

"The storm part was bad enough. The lightning destroyed trees and brought down rocks. But then we'd see things...people. Familiar faces, but people who shouldn't- couldn't have been there." Except that now knowing that people could come from any point in time, it made it even more plausible- and more dangerous. "They weren't really there. If BeeDee-One wasn't with me, I'd have fallen off a cliff or something. Between the ghosts and the lack of the Force, I wouldn't have gotten back without him."

He looks back out, his face grim. "...this...might be worse than that. Just the feeling, the sense I got before everything started going out..."

Letting his hand fall away, Echo also looks out the hatchway. Nothing but wind and rain against a darkened backdrop – a scene well-matched with Cal's mention of 'ghosts.'

If not the cold, then the words calmly spoken by the Scrapper is unsettling, making his skin prickle under the protective cover of his armor. It's not just the natural phenomena they have to survive, but the strangeness of the things that come with it.

"So everything we see can't be trusted," he finally says in a controlled breath. But he nods at the little droid. "Good on you keeping Cal safe, BeeDee. Because I already don't like the sound of this whole thing." He then looks at Cal. "Have any idea if your connection with the Force will come back?"

Cal smiles bitterly. "Well, not everything. Just the things that might seem to be out of place. ...although that's what makes things tricky." Especially for a newcomer like Echo, who would be able to tell what fit and what didn't? And given the fact that apparently people can still arrive doesn't help matters.

BD-1 beeps encouragingly, hunkering closer against Cal's back, almost protectively. The padawan has to smile at that, murmuring a thanks to the droid. He really has no idea what he'd do without the little guy.

"...no idea. Right now, it's not as bad as it was the first time I experienced a storm. It's just...unreliable, the connection. Sometimes there, sometimes not, like trying to grab a rope flailing in the wind. I figure once the storm passes, things will feel right again."

He frowns back at the ship. "I don't know how bad the damage is. I'll have a quick look at things, but something tells me our ships won't be of much use so long as the storm's upon us." His attention turns towards Echo. "Which means we either batten down here or take our chances getting back to the city."

Edited 2020-10-17 06:09 (UTC)

"Right." Fortunately details like that haven't completely slipped his mind, although it does make the situation more complicated.

Unreliable, though. Being a clone, he knows nothing about the Force and the mysteries attached to it. Yet when Cal describes how the lack of a prominent connection presently feels, he can understand clearly. "Let's hope this storm breaks up soon, then..."

At this point, however, it's probably a wish made in vain. "Depending on how long we can last here with the damages and the supplies we have on board, staying in the shuttle would be a smarter choice. I'll watch your back."

And maybe set his blaster to stun in the meantime because he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Again, unsettling. He exhales. "...Has anyone else checked in?"

Thankfully for Lance, he'd been wearing his armor as well. For the most part. The issue lay in that he'd neglected to wear his helmet on the flight back, which has come to bite him in the ass--or in the head, rather, as the ship's very rough landing had sent him practically flying enough (wear seatbelts, kids!) to hit his head against something. It isn't bad enough to cause a concussion, but he's definitely bleeding a little, and a headache is certainly setting in.

The paladin groans as he picks himself off the floor, stumbling to his feet. He'd hardly expected something like this to happen, so he's taken aback, even more so when the hatch opens to reveal a hell of a storm outside. Wonderful. And they're not even near the city.

"Stuck out here and don't even have an umbrella," he grumbles. Though when he can properly put his thoughts together, grabs his communicator. His message, unlike Cal's, is to one person in particular: his fiancé. There's no immediate response, and he bites his lip. Stupid storm, stupid... Ugh. He shoves down his worry, convincing himself that Keith is just fine.

Doing his best not to imagine the worst, his attention goes to Cal. "Wait... Wait, what? You're saying something's out there?"

Force or not, Cal completely agrees about hoping the storm will depart soon, although deep in his gut he doubts of such a convenience. "It looked like all the systems went out. That could mean problems for the protein dispensers...if...you consider paste food, but either way, depending on how long this lasts..." They might have to get creative and venture out anyway.

Still, Echo's offer to watch his back elicits a faint smile, although it also pains him to remember similar voices, other clones saying such things, a long time ago. Turning, he shakes his head.

"Not yet. While we wait, I'll see what can be done about the ship. We can plan from there."

"Aside from this storm? Who knows. I'm not sensing anything...not that I can rely on that," Cal admits. "The storm's enough, though, especially if it's a repeat of the first one that hit us," he continues grimly.

Looking at Lance then, he's at least glad to see someone else is on their feet. Poe's always been good about sticking a landing, no matter how rough. "You all right?" he asks.

Echo sighs. "Paste isn't so bad once you get used to it," he offers as consolation, perhaps even as a means to lighten the mood, but it doesn't last too long. "But I had a feeling our second option will be the one we gonna have to run with."

Any other slip of habit is somehow restrained in reply to the Scrapper's next course of action. Instead of the instant verbalized reply of 'sir' or 'yes sir,' he squares his shoulders for a split second prior to settling back into...whatever this dynamic has been. "All right. Let's see what we have here."

"It is flavored paste, at least," Cal admits, allowing the faintest of smiles as he's well aware of how deliciously bland ration cubes and the food aboard the Venators were in general. He sobers quickly enough, nodding.

It would have been awkward to have been addressed formally, habits or not. Thankfully Cal doesn't pick up on the restrained sentiment, preoccupied with everything else as he is. He turns away from the exit to move deeper into the ship.

It beats heading out into the rain right away.

Echo does what he said, starting after the distracted Scrapper heads back in. He tries not to get in the way of Cal's work, all the while looking for any flashlights, light sticks, or similar lighting sources around the area to level out their current visibility aboard the Bishop.

Having had plenty of time to explore the ship and its workings during their initial flight out to the Agrii, Cal at least knows just where to go. A light beams in the darkness, provided by BD-1 who's moved more over the padawan's shoulder to brighten the way.

He knows they'll probably have to head outside to check for external damage, but it's not something he's eager to tackle.

Darkness and faint noises echoing off the metal insides of a ship: the best conditions for reviewing any training protocols that come to mind. Echo is quietly relieved the HUD in his helmet isn't broken, allowing him to navigate around any obstacles and to search for anything that can be useful later.

Amid the silence, there's suddenly a crack. The primary light provided by BD-1 is soon joined by another, less concentrated source emanating from the ARC Trooper's gloved hand in the form of a freshly snapped glow stick. He turns it over, noticing its glow brightening with the slightest of movements.

"This will have to do for now," he says almost apologetically. "Will it help?"

Both Cal and BD-1 glance back at the sound, the former just a little more on edge for how much the storm's messing with his senses, BD-1 potentially accidentally blinding Echo when he turns his light in his direction. The droid quickly averts it once he sees what the clone's done.

"-every little bit helps," Cal says, forcing a grin.

The ARC Trooper visibly winces at the flash of BeeDee's light, raising his arm to shield his eyes. Once the droid looks away, he slowly lets it drop away from his line of sight, blinking a few times behind the visor so that his vision readjusts.

Although Cal can't tell, the skin around Echo's eyes crinkle slightly. Every little bit helps. "Right, then," he prompts, falling back into a nonexistent line so that he isn't in the Scrapper's personal space.

It doesn't take terribly long to locate and look at the internal wiring. Cal doesn't look too surprised when in the end nothing powers on. He shakes his head. "It reminds me of when the Agrii ship's Hero Control room went out."

He sighs, looking at Echo before leading the way back towards the open hatch. The floor's slick with rain water as the wind continues to splatter it inside.

"Guess we better check on the outside, just to make sure. The landing might have done more damage than the initial shutdown," he says as he pulls his hood back on, peering outside before hopping on out. Mud squelches beneath his boots.

Holding the light a little closer so that the shadows aren't as severe, Echo studies the wiring. "...That's not good. Did it also look like something made a nest out of the wires?"

He didn't want to say he was expecting the worst, but it's not hard to think that way after their first issue shows no promise. "Only one way to find out," he huffs a sigh, looking around once more to see if there's a better light than an ambient glow stick. When he sees nothing within the vicinity, he eventually heads back toward the hatch after Cal has long hopped out.

Metal and light splashes of water are quickly traded for mud, instantly blackening the clone's boots and shin guards. The rain makes visibility difficult, but he's used to it by now, keeping his eyes up as he follows along the side of the ship.

Except now he suddenly feels on edge. More than the normal amount of vigilance he doles out.

"Well, no. But I guess that's why you need an engineering datapoint to make any sense of it," Cal points out with a crooked smile.

But now they're outside, and the padawan's tense as he tries to focus on the ship. He glances over his shoulder at Echo, nodding before starting along the vessel, a hand tracing its side. Even without having a consistent connection with the Force, he can sense the tension in the air. The rain is relentless as it continues to hammer down upon them, thunder grumbling overhead.

"Poe's a good pilot, so I'm sure he did his best to miss anything vital," he says as they go along. His steps are slow because of the muddy, wet ground, but he trudges on, glad to see that so far nothing looks amiss save for scrapes along the ship's hull, but the worse, if any damage there may be, would probably be up front.

"Looks like he managed." The ARC Trooper says this as Cal goes on ahead, getting a better look at the scrapes. "The panels should've been completely torn off in this terrain. I'll thank him later."

Which he does mean to do, once they all regroup. His method of coping tends to waver in the seriousness of the situation, but it doesn't take away from it.

And it certainly doesn't take away the ever-present tension in the air. As he turns to continue forward, his steps falter, helmet jerking several degrees away from his original line of sight.

A loud rumble of thunder overhead halts Cal in his steps, the padawan freezing, all hunched up as though expecting something more to follow. The rain's already falling its hardest, a consistent patter against his hood and poncho, drumming against the ship.

He's about to step forward again when BD-1 gives an inquiring beep. Looking over his shoulder, he frowns at Echo before trying to scan the treeline, wondering what it is that's caught the clone's attention.

"Echo..?"

Echo just...stands there, raindrops drumming against his armor and running in heavy rivulets down all the sides of his helmet, over the painted hand print and dripping off of every hard edge, slowly seeping into the exposed areas of the black body glove underneath.

The thunder doesn't faze him, doesn't seem to snap him out of his alertness, but the clone soon sucks in a sharp breath once things calm down.

"–Sorry," he nearly stammers, glancing back toward Cal and BeeDee. "There was– I thought I saw someone."

That only draws a concerned look from the padawan. Seeing someone in the storm is not necessarily a good thing. Behind him, BD-1 hoots.

"Yeah, not sure. No one's called back on the comms though. Remember what I said about the storm..." He's not about to deny the possibility of one of theirs out there, but they need to be cautious about it.

"About the ghosts? I remember."

Despite maintaining his composure, the vocabulator accentuates the tail end of each controlled breath. Echo obviously doesn't like this, but he takes a step in Cal's direction, loosening the mud's grip on his boots. "Let's check the front. I'll be right there."

Cal hesitates but gives the clone a nod. He begins again, moving along the outside of the ship. After working on them, he's a little disheartened to see them damaged at all, and he can only hope that the others fared as well as they had, although he's not sure how good a pilot the others might be. Datapoints only granted you basic knowledge.

His eyes drift towards the woods ahead of him as he rounds the nose, his breath catching in his throat. He can see his Lassat Jedi master looking at him in disapproval, an expression not terribly unlike the last time he'd seen it, when he'd had to face him on Dathomir. Swallowing, he forcefully turns his head away. "...not there..." he mutters to himself, trying to focus on the solidness of the ship beneath his hand.

The light of the glow stick seems to all be in vain against the dark and the rain. It faintly casts a glow across the panels as Echo carefully finds his footing, his eyes fixed on the visible edges of the damage that now covers portions of the shuttle. A half-whispered swear is said under a filtered breath, lost among the din of the storm.

"This is gonna take some work," he mutters, keeping it more to himself so that it doesn't rub Cal the wrong way.

Echo

"–Cal?" The ARC Trooper is sure Cal just called his name. Except Cal isn't even looking his way. "Cal, what's wrong?"

His shoulders hitch up slightly, as though they aren't tensed enough, the padawan glancing over his shoulder at Echo. "He's not real..." he says, as if trying to convince himself more than the clone, not that Echo would know what he's talking about.

You can't deny the things that are, Padawan.

Cal's eyes widen as he hears it, his master's voice so clear as though he were right there and not across the clearing made by the ship, through the heavy rain drumming on the ship beside him.

You're still weak. You still fear, or you would not turn away from me. And yet you still consider yourself a Jedi? You are hardly even a padawan. You don't even have a lightsaber.

The boy's breathing quickens slightly, and he turns sharply enough to send droplets flying from his hood as he looks back towards the forest. BD-1 trills questioningly, in warning, leaning closer by Cal's head.

"I-I know..."

Do you?

"He's not really there-"

Am I not?

"No-"

How do you not believe in your own master yet you are willing to put your trust in the clones who have betrayed our Order? But then perhaps it's fitting...

"...no..."

Traitor.

"...NO!"

The change in Cal's voice sets off all of the alarms in Echo's head. His own breath hitches as his eyes flicker away from the Scrapper and the bipedal droid, immediately trying to pinpoint where the deep voice is coming from. The HUD barely comes up with anything the longer he stares into the forest, its view swiftly switching back to Cal in the middle of all of this.

"Cal! He's not real!" He tries to yell, tries to repeat the warning he's just been told. He doesn't know who he's not seeing, but those words sting, the word 'clone' bearing a heavy connotation in a context he has yet to see. Yet he tries to close the distance, to reach out and grab the young man by the arm–

Echo

He falters.

A cold sweat breaks out over his skin as he whirls around, almost losing his footing in the mud. His grip on his blaster? Surely white-knuckled under the gloves.

Recognizing the sound of that voice, that particular way of how his name is spoken – it makes his gut wrench.

"...Better get inside," the clone breathes, his eyes darting before landing on Cal again. "Cal, focus! We need to go!"

Squeezing his eyes shut Cal faces the ship. "...I know," he says weakly, hearing Echo, and then hearing the ARC Trooper's sudden movement. He looks towards him, swallowing before giving a hesitant nod.

"Y-yeah... Come on," he says, gesturing as convincingly as he can back towards the hatch.

It's not reassuring, but it's movement all the same. Echo keeps an eye on the Scrapper, making sure to follow as soon as he's passed.

Can ye believe this? Lookit him, being all protective of his new little friend!

–I'll say. In fact, I'm even a little disappointed by this.

Not just one, but two voices – both of them similar to the clone's voice, yet distinct in their own ways – cut through the rain. Echo hears them like they're speaking directly over the comlink, but that can't be...

His throat tightens. "–No," he reminds himself, controlling the slight tremble as he stays close to the shuttle. "Stop talking and let me concentrate– "

Looks like some things never change, eh, Echo?

A third voice, rough around the edges, joins in. This one seems to hit the ARC Trooper the hardest, his breathing suddenly ragged as he looks out at the forest again.

The mud makes it difficult to go any faster than they might like, but Cal can't bring himself to hurry either way. Even though he knows it's impossible, it still feels like he's being watched, judged, and it's only his trust in BD-1 that he's hanging on to.

It doesn't help that he thinks he hears other clones, and they hurt in other ways than just their mocking tones. He takes a moment to realize the steps behind him have stopped again, and Cal steals a look over his shoulder towards the ARC Trooper. "Echo," he says, urgent, trying to get his attention. The man has been trying to keep his head straight, and he has to do the same. But this is so much different than before... But does it really make a difference?

Can you be so sure? Tapal's voice speaks up again.

Echo~ ! One voice sings over Cal's call, barely containing himself. A cruel edge creeps into his humorous tone. 'Ey, y'think you can still recite all of those regulations you kept buggin' us about during training?

The other scoffs. I bet he could. Drop a number, he'll catch on without hesitation.

Malicious laughter rings out. Echo flinches, tearing his gaze away from the trees to look at Cal. "They aren't like this," he rasps, the convincing eerily similar to how the young man sounded mere moments ago. "Cutup and Droidbait aren't like this."

I can't believe you've made it this far, the third clone trooper's voice overlaps soon after Tapal speaks again, unseen and full of contempt. Farther than any of us will ever go. We were all supposed to be ARC Troopers, facing the front lines, busting clankers an' bringing down the Seppies. But you? Now you're stuck here with this nobody, wasting your potential by almost dying on another rock!

The sneer is audible, but Echo instantly sees it the second he adds:

Some ARC Trooper you are!

And his teeth set. "Hevy, on the other hand," Echo nearly growls, "he's always been a jerk."

He's getting frustrated, upset at the manipulative ways of this storm. How something that's apparently unnatural can even do such a thing is beyond him. Trying to grasp any sense of calm is impossible, and it's a bad thing, he knows.

"Echo," Cal says, trying to project louder than the leering clone voices, voices he feels shouldn't be nearly so terrible, confirmed by Echo's own words. The padawan holds out his hand. "We need to focus on what's here. On what's in front of us." He needs it as much as the clone, trying not to let himself flinch at the mean-spirited words from this Hevy fellow.

Among the putdowns and deprecation, Echo's head lowers as he hunches forward, his eyes squeezing shut. What isn't real overwhelms, easily giving rise to feelings he thought were stored away, adding fuel to the ones he's already been handling so far.

This time, Cal's voice projects over Cutup's jeering. When he looks up, he sees the hand outstretched, hears the urging of the Scrapper – the Padawan, the near-Commander – who is still suffering from the effects of the storm. A shaky breath emits from the helmet, prying one hand free so that he can grasp onto the Padawan's hand. He then forces himself to trudge forward in the muck.

"Gotta focus," he mutters under his breath. "We're getting back inside the shuttle..."

That hand is given a squeeze, as though to offer further proof that it's there, and that goes both ways. Cal's own breath is hardly steady, but he gives Echo a nod, turning, still hanging on to the ARC Trooper, to make their way back to the ship's open hatch. It's painfully slow going, and he feels like the rain's trying its hardest to make sure they fail.

You remember where that trust got us before, do you not, Padawan?

Echo can feel Cal's fingers twitch, tighten around his hand. "It's not his fault," he says, somewhat surprised that his own voice can sound so steady despite the inner turmoil. "It's not any of their faults..."

Edited (oops wrong html) 2020-10-27 04:47 (UTC)

The change in Cal's grip isn't lost on the ARC Trooper, but the way he speaks now is a tone Echo has become familiar with. Different from the general he's served under, yet it carries the same sense of calm.

Remember what happened, Echo, Hevy rumbles. No Jedi showed up to save us.

Droidbait remains distant. Hollow. You were lucky you survived.

Despite the pain, Echo presses on. "We're almost to the hatch," he calls out, seeing their goal meters away from them.

Briefly, Cal closes his eyes. He has no idea who these clones were, save that they were close to Echo, they had to be. But he knew that there were so many who had lost their lives. It was the way of war, and even the Jedi numbers had dwindled as Separatists and the Republic battled.

The Jedi had done their best, just as the clones had. He wanted to believe that. But they couldn't be everywhere, and it was a painful thing to admit. Cal says nothing, continuing to place one foot in front of the other. He hears Echo's voice, so different compared to the tone of his brothers, and he fixes his eyes upon the opening both so close and yet so distant.

"Almost there," he agrees, as though voicing it would make it that much closer. BD-1 chimes in with encouraging beeps of his own.

The clones were raised to go into battle. They knew they were going to die eventually. Even then, they still fought for the good of the Republic, guided by the hand of the jedi who dove into the fray with them.

Knowing this along with learning how the future supposedly unfolds has led to many questions, but the storm warps these truths, skewing the past quicker than Echo expected. And Cal...Cal is doing his best. He's been through this before, still dealing with the trauma he's been living with as it's brought back to life. But he is willing to forego his past experiences to help the clone pull through.

And he thinks: this really is unfair.

In his silence, the voices of his brothers weave in and out of the pouring rain. BeeDee's beeps are heard, and each step is given purpose.

Closer, and closer. Nearing the hatchway, Echo squeezes the Padawan's hand. "–I'm sorry, sir."

He's not sure if it's a momentary connection with the Force or just his own gut foreboding, but even before Echo speaks up, Cal feels a sudden loneliness, despite their hands still grasped. The slip in formality makes him swallow again, a title he'd never gotten the chance to earn, but he'd been happy enough just to be considered a potential comrade, a friend by those of the Thirteenth Battalion.

But it's not only that reason that has Cal feel the panic he's been managing somehow to keep at bay, suddenly slip, like a hole has just opened up beneath him.

"Echo?" His own voice sounds so far away, and he feels in that moment miles apart from the clone despite them still being right there beside each other. The sound of the rain hammers in his ears as it beats down upon his hood.

He had a plan.

An unspoken, reckless plan.

Cal has every right to think something is wrong. Barely hearing his name, Echo almost feels guilty for what he's come up with in the short time they've spent getting to this point. But he can't lose his nerve now.

He tenses, suddenly jerking his hand away from Cal's grasp, his stance shifting so that his freed hand draws back.

"You can yell at me later," he says through clenched teeth, the same hand flying forward to strike and shove the young man and his little droid friend into the shuttle without delay.

Mud-covered boots begin to back away, slipping once before recovering in the next two steps...

The clone's hand slips easily from Cal's, both as rain-slicked as they are. The padawan barely manages to start forming a word with his mouth before he finds himself being propelled backwards suddenly, tumbling back and into the shuttle. BD-1 shrieks in alarm, hopping up and off Cal before he can get landed on. He rushes off to the edge of the shuttle's hatch, staring out after the ARC Trooper.

The muted sound of the storm within the hold of the shuttle is a jarring contrast to all he'd been subjected to but a moment ago, and even as Cal shoves himself to sit up, he's still dazed, unable to process Echo's actions. He catches his breath, looking towards his droid buddy as BD-1 glances back at him. Staggering to his feet, Cal lurches towards the hatch, leaning against its frame, trying to make out the clone's form through the curtains of rain that seem only to blur anything beyond several feet.

"Echo-!!"

One last look, and Echo turns.

He breaks into a run, the flash of blue and white somehow blending into the black and gray in a matter of seconds. Muddy water splashes upward with every step he takes, his own breathing loud within the confines of his helmet. Every muttered word repeats itself, jilted and almost lost due to clumsy navigation of a new and obscured landscape.

Block out the voices, try to contact the others. Follow up with finding Temba and try searching for any of the others who may have crash-landed on Agra 10 as well.

It's stupid. It's a huge risk. There is no guarantee of success, but risks are what ARC Troopers take. He's had the training, he can be better than this.

So long as Cal stays safe.

Old habits die hard.

Edited (what are locations) 2020-10-27 20:35 (UTC)

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Log // Networkish - Homecoming

Bam

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