Well, hello readers!

It's Parker, and today I will begin a new story that was inspired by the spoiler that Dave Filoni gave us Star Wars fans on March 10 (My birthday, I might add). Mr. Filoni said something that made me compelled to write this tale.

"P.S. I have to give you one spoiler because I know it meant a lot to some of you. Yes, Echo is alive."

(Read the full article here: 2014/03/10/to-fans-of-star-wars-the-clone-wars-thank-you/)

Yes, I know that I need to complete Brothers before writing another story, but I just had too, especially with Fives dead (spoiler!)...

Enjoy!

-Parker

Captured Separatist shuttle, atmosphere of Ord Signant, three weeks after the Citadel mission

The Seppies were finally onto him, and was not a good thing.

Echo frantically pressed buttons and pulled levers on the control panel of his stolen Sep shuttle, trying to outmaneuver the Vulture droid fighters that were trailing him. He felt a jolt as one of the kriffing droids got a hit on the wing of his ship. Unfortunately, this model shuttle was made for transporting useless ballast like diplomats or others of the like, and not for evasive maneuvers. He would have to make do with this thing.

At the time it had seemed like a good idea in taking this ship from the Citadel, after he had found out his team had abandoned him in the ruins of their ship. That had hurt slightly, but that was better than having them all die at his expense. The shuttle had a manual pilot option, it could get him offworld without attention, and it had a working hyperdrive. But what he hadn't found out until now was that it was low on fuel. He had stopped off at Ord Signant to refuel and buy supplies, then get out. But the Seps had been tracking him, and now they had caught him right when his guard was let down. The tinnies were smarter than they looked.

Echo found the steering stick of the Seppie shuttle and clutched at it with his mechanical hand, his other working at the shield controls. In desperation, Echo had decided that he would crash-land onto the planet to fake his death, then make his way into the main settlement, where he could buy a new transport to get him to...

Echo had no idea where he wanted to go right now. He just knew that he had to get free from the war.

That thought caused a tingle in his remaining hand. Freedom was a concept so foreign, but so desirable to him, and it wasn't what the Republic or even some of the Jedi meant it was; Echo meant real freedom, where he could make his own choices. He knew that that freedom was there. He just hadn't been able to grasp onto it until his supposed death at the Citadel.

But freedom wouldn't mean a thing if he couldn't get the damned shuttle to enter the airspace.

Echo watched with clenched teeth into the monitor that looked over the wings. The one that had been hit by the Vulture's fire was streaming a long black tail of smoke.

He growled, pounding the control panel. He needed to get his deflector shields up, or he'd either burn to charred bits in the atmosphere, or get shot out of the sky by Vultures. Rear or forward, he thought, squeezing the steering stick even harder.

He made a last-second decision: forward. There was more of a chance that he was going to burn that be blasted, and he needed to get down to Ord Signant alive.

Pressing a greenish button on the panel, Echo activated the forward atmospheric deflector shields, and accelerated. The ARC nearly fell out of his seat as the ship went vertically downwards, and he let out a string of curses. He usually never had a temper outburst like this; being alone for two weeks had given him a much shorter fuse than before, and anything could light it.

The shields worked. That's one matter off it, he thought, smirking ruefully. Now I just need to evade these Vultures.

Echo was now relying purely on instinct and luck. The former he knew he could trust. The latter, he felt, was running thin.

Echo couldn't do a thing more to help him crash-land any more besides strap himself in and brace himself for the crash. But he was flying vertical. How was he supposed to do that?

Then, the obviously dangerous suggestion hit him, and he nearly laughed out loud. This plan was even more dangerous than crashing. He would have to jump out of the viewport and hope to not die. But for that, he would need to get closer to the ground...

It was the best option. Otherwise he'd die right here.

Echo pulled on a breath mask from the compartment under the panel and loaded his brand-new DH-17 pistol with ammo, then slid it into his belt. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and unbelted himself from the seat.

Echo crashed down onto the control panel, sending sparks flying everywhere. Then, he smashed through the transparisteel viewport of the shuttle, and flew into the open air.

Echo had taken high altitude drop training on Kamino, jumping off of a board into a nearly-bottomless pit. But this was real, with the wind blasting into his face, pushing him off course, the sun getting into his eyes...

Echo absolutely hated it.

The ARC pressed his arms to his sides and tried to dive vertically until he got to about ten feet to the ground. But that would take lots of calculation, and he was rushing towards the ground at a hundred miles per hour. He resisted the urge to close his eyes. Do that, and he jut might hit the ground and splatter. Freedom wouldn't mean a damned thing then.

Before he could even realize it, Echo was approaching the ground fast. He let out a cry and jerked to his side, his left shoulder to the ground. What's that Mando word? Shab? Shab. Oh Shab!

He smacked into the rocky soil of Ord Signant's landscape. A spike of pain surged down his arm, and he hissed, panting. He needed to warm up. The atmosphere had chilled him badly. He almost, almost wanted to have burned up.

So, tell me how you like it! A review would help, a lot, and if you want to, leave constructive criticism! I always appreciate people telling me what I can do better.

Oya,

-Parker