Tech didn’t even have to think about what he was doing. He knew what he had to do. When he saw the snake heading towards Crosshair, he fired at it.
Of course, snakes can’t actually understand what blasters and blaster bolts are, so when he missed that angered it further. It didn’t turn, but instead its head shot up, mouth open, venom glinting on fangs in the bright sunlight, headed right for Crosshair.
Tech lunged into the cooling blue waters with Crosshair and the snake, and grabbed the snake by the tail. He tried to aim for its head, but he stumbled on the sand and smooth rocks, and the snake shot towards him.
Before Tech knew it the thing had wrapped around his arm, found a weak point between his armor, and struck.
The bruising, aching pain came after its fangs were out, after Tech had been able to grab it by the neck, and Crosshair blasted it through the head. The tightly coiled body went limp around his arm.
Tech looked at the gash in his fatigues, at the blood from the two deep pinpricks washing over his arm. White venom shown under his skin, deep, deep.
“Oh.”
Tech collapsed into the water. His arm was burning , like someone had injected him with boiling water, or even fire itself. His skin ached as the swelling already set in. Fire pulsed through his arm, spreading through his blood.
Nausea curled in his stomach. He tried to move, tried to get up, especially as he saw more snakes coming at them through the water. His vision blurred.
His head splashed back into the shallows.
Crosshair grabbed him, threw him over his shoulder and ran, his family putting down cover fire.
As Tech bounced along over Crosshair’s shoulder he felt his heart rate accelerate, felt like his heart was about to burst through his ribs and out of his chest.
He wanted to complain, wanted to ask to be put down, wanted to fire one of his blasters and help his family out.
Why couldn’t someone put him down and strip his armor off him, let him cool off? Why couldn’t they put a blanket over him to keep him warm?
As hot and cold warred in him, he shivered, sweating.
Crosshair jumped, shoulder jabbing right into Tech’s stomach, and he threw up, only half conscious by now, but still hating the agony of it, the extra saliva, the burning.
A stray thought crossed his mind that he wished someone would cut his arm off.
He was losing feeling in his fingers. Blood was getting everywhere, and he was sure he saw bruising from his swinging right arm. Part of it was white, as white as the venom.
His fingers started to cramp, hand curling into a claw. The spasms gripped his arm too, and then all the way up to his shoulder.
“Ernngh.”
“Just hold on,” Crosshair told him. “We’ve almost lost them.”
“I’m… fine.”
“Sure you are.”
“You said those things only come out one day a year!” Wrecker yelled.
Tech didn’t want to argue about the habits of snakes with his brothers right now, and how he’d miscalculated. Clearly they came out two days a year.
“At least we got what we needed,” Hunter said, referring to the venom they’d been able to extract from dead snakes they’d found from their violent mating rituals the day before. They were bringing the venom to Phee so medicine could be made from it.
Tech was thinking that maybe he was okay with getting bitten for Phee and her cause.
“Think we can make an antidote?”
“As if any of you know chemistry,” Tech got out, voice light and breathy.
“I think we’ve lost them,” Echo said, taking up a defensive point behind Crosshair.
“Let’s just get back to the Marauder,” Hunter said.
Tech lost all sight of the world around him, and he felt weak, adrift in his own mind and body.
“I don’t think Tech has that kind of time,” Echo warned.
“Let’s put him down here,” Hunter suggested.
Tech was laid against what he thought could possibly be a tree trunk. He didn’t exactly know. Someone checked his weak, thready pulse.
“Karking sh*t,” Crosshair swore, maybe getting a look at Tech’s arm.
“Ugh, it looks like he has a giant ball in there,” Wrecker said.
For some reason Tech had the odd feeling that Wrecker was trying to reach out and poke him.
“In my bag,” Tech breathed out, hoping his voice was strong enough as everything faded away from him. “I have some med supplies. Antivenom at the bottom.”
“I’ll try looking for a vein for the IV,” Echo said. He and Crosshair set to stripping his armor off.
A familiar hand cupped his cheek. “Stay with us, okay?” Hunter asked. “Can you open your eyes?”
“Uhngh,” Tech complained.
At the moment he didn’t even know how that’d be possible.
Hunter peeled one of his eyes open, and Tech could barely see through the venom in him.
“Hunter, your knife,” Crosshair said.
Hunter must have handed it over because then Tech’s fatigues were getting cut off his left arm past the shoulder. They stripped it and his glove off. He tried to breathe, not exactly looking forward to the pain of a needle right now. Wasn’t the agony from the venom enough?
Hands patted all over his clammy arm, his hand.
“I can’t find a vein,” Echo said.
“Me either,” Crosshair echoed.
“What do we do now?” Wrecker asked.
Tech almost fainted, fear clenching his roiling stomach as he realized what had to be done.
Hunter was silent, maybe knowing as well.
“Tech, do you have the drill in your pack?”
“Yeah.” He wanted to argue that why wouldn’t he have it?
Hands were behind him, going through his bag again. There were the clinks of supplies, and Hunter pulled something out, making his pack that much lighter.
Oh, dear.
“Wrecker, Crosshair, get one of his greaves off, and his boot. Roll his pantleg up. Then hold him down. Echo, you got something for a bit?”
In a matter of moments, Wrecker was practically wrapped around Tech, holding him close so he couldn’t move. Crosshair was on him, patting his cheek.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmured. “You’re gonna be fine.”
Tech wanted to say something, but Echo had found a bit of leather to put in his mouth.
A fearful moan left him as he heard the drill start up, probably primed with the antivenom.
“On three,” Hunter said.
Oh, why did he have to count? Couldn’t he just do it now and get it over with?
“Get ready to make a tourniquet after,” he ordered. “We bandage his leg quick. He can’t lose more blood. He’s already dehydrated.
“Okay, three, two…”
The worst pain Tech had ever felt in his life, even worse than the snake venom assaulted his left shin.
He screamed around the bit, barely able to breathe.
The drill went in fast, completely uncaring for anything in its way.
It cut through skin, fat, muscle, and bone. Right into the marrow.
The injection into his bone marrow started.
Tech was struggling against Wrecker, against Crosshair. Echo held his shuddering leg down. He had a fleeting thought of being thankful that Omega wasn’t on this mission to see this. She was safe on Pabu.
The whole procedure was over in seconds, but even those few seconds had been too long. By the time the drill was extracted, Tech was leaning his head back against Wrecker, moaning, tears all over his face.
The tourniquet Crosshair applied hurt more than he had expected it would, and he was surprised he wanted to complain the most about that.
They bandaged him quick, Echo using his own one-armed technique and his scomp to lightly bandage his arm.
“You made it. It’s okay,” Crosshair told him.
Tech nodded, finding his vision coming back to him.
He moaned, the bit falling out of his mouth.
This time Wrecker carried him, and the big guy was surprisingly gentle, being careful to not mess up the tourniquet that felt like it was going to cut off his leg.
“How ya doin’?” he asked.
They were almost back to the ship now, Tech recognizing the path they had taken.
“Been better,” he sighed.
Wrecker pat his side.
By the time they were back on Pabu Tech was recovering from the venom splendidly, and even from the drill. He was getting around with Echo’s help, and Wrecker had apparently grabbed a branch to quickly fashion into a cane for him before they’d left.
They had commed Omega to tell her of the situation, so she wouldn’t be surprised when she saw the state he was in. They made it a priority to assure her that Tech looked bad, but would be just fine.
When Tech hobbled off the ship, leg aching, clothes still a mess since it had been a quick flight, Phee’s usual smirk slid off her face, jaw loosening.
Omega and Batcher rushed over. Batcher nuzzled against his good leg, while Omega hugged him tight, completely uncaring about all the blood on him.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay!” she cried.
Tech ruffled her hair, enjoying having her arms wrapped around him, her head buried into his chest. Batcher pawed at him for attention. All he could manage was a quick pat, suddenly a bit overwhelmed by all the attention and the stimuli.
“What did you do to, Brown Eyes?” Phee called, prompting Omega to step back. She seemed to want to hold onto him, but let go, joining the rest of the group, and bouncing from heel to toe as she followed them.
Tech hobbled over to Phee, and she took all of him in. The ripped and cut away clothes, the blood, the bandages, the deep line in his leg from where the tourniquet had been before they’d quickly stitched him up.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“As if. Sweetie, you’re a mess.”
“Snake bite,” he said.
Hunter came over, and pat him on the shoulder. “He’ll be okay. I’ve seen to it.”
Phee grabbed Tech’s arm. “I’m not letting him go on any more missions with you after this one.”
They all laughed a bit, but Tech was relieved to fall against her side. He was so tired, so stunned. He barely knew how to talk about what had happened. How did one even create a script for getting bitten by a venomous snake to save your brother, and then needing to undergo drastic and intense field medicine?
“You should’ve seen how red your face turned,” Wrecker said. “I thought you were going to burst some blood vessels.”
Tech rolled his eyes, and Crosshair gave their larger brother a soft punch.
“Leave him be,” he chided.
“Phee, I have to go on more missions,” Tech explained.
“Uh-uh. You’re coming with me right now. I’m prescribing you rest and a whole lot of care.”
“What about the—” Hunter started.
“The venom? I’ll be back for that later, and I’m gonna have some stern words for you. Come on, Tech. Let’s get you in a bed.”
That was when the guys started lightly teasing the both of them. Tech blushed, but found that he liked it, and he hobbled off, hanging onto Phee’s arm, telling her all about the snake skin they’d found, and how the snakes were drawn by the light of the sun, which shone at its brightest for two days a year, not one.
“Nothing ever shuts you up, does it?” she teased.
“I think it’d take some seriously extreme measures to do so.”
“Good. Keep talking. What color were the males’ scales again?”
![Venom - Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash) - Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)](data:image/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAAEAAAABCAQAAAC1HAwCAAAAC0lEQVR42mP8/h8AAvMB+NzmkbcAAAAASUVORK5CYII=)