Gestation pods floated on anti-gravity rotators, the clean glass shining in the harsh fluorescent lighting. Inside each small tank, an even smaller body floated within the cool liquid. It twitched, one of its tiny feet fluttering uselessly in the gel. This one in particular was about nine months along, looking almost like any other human child that would have been born from a regular mother. It was only one of millions of clones like it, all of whom were floating in similar pods until maturation.
Columns over, an anti-gravity terminal floated, the five pods attached to it filled with sickly, cloudy green liquid. The small babies within the glass tanks lay completely still, alarm klaxons above them not disturbing the cold bodies. The column of terminals stopped rotating for a moment, suspended in the cool, temperature controlled air before racing upward, the terminal of green pods a stark contrast from the bright whites and cool pale blues.
The team of Kaminoans stood—one yellow-eyed scientist and two blue-eyed technicians—in anxious arrival of the defective batch of troopers. The anti-gravity terminal hovered before them.
"This is the third gestation terminal to fail this week," one of the technicians said, more to himself than to any of the others.
And still, dangerous chemical and hormonal imbalances had run rampant through column 7A-12x. Already, a total of twenty clone units had been found dead within their pods, a few showing signs of rapid decay.
The yellow-eyed scientist ignored him, tapping a few keys on her datapad. She depressed the release button on the manual control panel for the first pod. A service droid trundled toward the pod, its suction-manipulators gripping the smooth, cold glass and slowly sliding backwards. The pod detached, and he droid rotated its "hands" to place it vertically. As programmed, it twisted the metal lid off and backed away to repeat the task with the next four pods.
The smell of rotten chemicals wafted through the room, making bile rise in the scientist's long throat.
Of course, she made no show of her discomfort on the outside.
She waved to one of the technicians—this one female—to remove the clone unit from its pod. The technician did as she was told, putting gloved hands into the thick green liquid and pulling out the child within.
Dead.
"Shame," the technician said, passing the dead body to the service droid. She felt no real pity for the defective product. "Such a waste of resources. I supposed we will have to alert Head Master Su about—"
"There will be no need for that." The scientist interrupted. Her physical appearance remained calm, serene.
On the inside, her frets and worries chased each other in frantic circles in her head. This is what you get for tampering with Fett's genome. Three failed attempts.
The scientist watched in passive silence as the third and fourth bodies were decanted. I should be doing this. It was my fault to begin with. She stepped forward, holding a hand up for the technician to halt her movements. "I will take care of the rest." Her voice remained even and emotionless, but the slightest thread of warning was heard.
"With due respect," the male spoke, "we were instructed to assist you when—"
"And I am now instructing you to leave." Her tone left no room for argument, however soft it sounded. "The service droids will be plenty."
Both technicians were silent for a moment, contemplating. Then the female spoke. "As you wish, Scientist." She bowed, her long neck curving, before leaving the decanting room. The male followed silently.
Scientist Min Lo breathed outward, a soft puff, before putting on the plastoid-rubber gloves and reaching into the thick green liquid. She kept her discomfort at the smell to herself.
Behind her, the service droid buzzed and tweeted to itself, sending the drained pods down a chute.
Min Lo lifted the small child out of his tank, mentally checking him over and tallying what she would have to make note of on her datapad.
He didn't move.
Min Lo blinked, and turned to the small holding box that would take the body to be disposed of. Thus far, her research had turned up no positive results.
Another failure.
Just as she was about to place the body into the box, something small and warm gripped her thumb. A tiny squeal echoed in the cavernous lab, quickly morphing into a slightly louder cry.
It was alive.
A small spark of elation lit up in Min Lo's chest. Her months of tampering and research had paid off, this small unauthorized experiment succeeded.
The baby squealed again, fat tears rolling down his pale cheeks as he flailed uselessly in her hands. She could hear the fluid in his under-developed lungs as he gasped for breath.
The service droid blipped and tipped its head almost curiously. It trundled forward a meter and looked at her quizzically. It gave a small chorus of beeps and trills, holding out its manipulator arms.
Almost protectively, Min Lo tightened her grip on the still whimpering child. "Send the following items to my quarters immediately." Placing the child carefully on the steel table—and inwardly flinching at the uncleanliness—she plugged her datapad into the droid's port.
The droid stilled for a moment as it downloaded files and lists, then chirped brightly, a sign that it understood.
"You must not tell anyone." Min Lo already knew that after a few days, certain data would be terminated, but she wanted to make sure. "And make sure you are not seen. Take the service lifts."
The droid chirped again, nodding awkwardly and trundling away on its heavy wheels.
Min Lo breathed outward softly, not realizing that her heart had been racing. She turned back to the child on the table.
He stared at her with wide, brown eyes, blinking every once in a while. The child was only a few months old, barely able to sit up. He was too young.
There were no facilities that would be able to hold him; all clones were decanted at the biological age of two and were quickly sent to their first lesson. In the pod they received flash training in speaking Basic fluently.
The child looked at her almost expectantly, hiccupping a few times. With a small hand, he reached out to her, his fingers grasping the cool air. He shivered, small legs kicking uselessly and feebly at the air.
This is what I have created. Min Lo let the revelation sink in for a moment, fully realizing that she had found a successful way to lengthen the average trooper's life span.
Quickly removing the child from the cold table, she carried him to the sink, his weight barely anything in her hands. This was her private lab; she had free reign to do whatever she wanted, and she was sure it included but was not limited to bathing secret experiments in warm water.
He squirmed as the warm water trickled over his head, opening his eyes again. A small palm reached upward and tried to pinch the water that streamed from the holes in the spray tap—as was expected, his hand-eye coordination was greater than that of an average civilian child's his age.
Min Lo studied her creation, aiming the warm water away from his face. He had the same dark eyes and black hair as the rest of the clones, but his curled more. His skin was pale, and his breathing suggested that there was fluid built up in his lungs. He'd stopped crying, something she was grateful for, but the shadow of ribs seen through his skin was a disturbing image.
He continued to stare at the scientist with all of the out-of-place seriousness of his brothers, his eyes seeming older than his age. He squirmed again, giving a small cry and revealing toothless gums.
Had he been documented, his number would have been CT-5642, but as far as the rest of the subjects were concerned, he didn't exist.
Min Lo finished washing the small experiment and dried him off with the disposable towels available. Mentally, she berated herself for not having been prepared with the proper tools, but she had never expected that her unauthorized genetic tampering would have worked.
He continued to stare at the yellow-eyed scientist, large brown eyes taking in the surroundings about him. The harsh fluorescent lighting made his already pale skin look a ghostly color.
He coughed, small and weak.
Min Lo picked him up—marveled at how light-weight he was—and set him on the metal examining table. The child immediately began squirming against the cold metal, whimpering as tears formed in his eyes.
"This will only take a moment." Min Lo placed him on a scale, wrote down the weight, and took other measurements.
His blood type was not the same as that of the other clones. Compared to the standard size, weight, and physical development of regular human males, he was born prematurely—even set against the standards of clone infants, he was smaller and weaker.
A pang of sorrow settled into her stomach.
The child made a small noise again, his face crinkling. Gently, Min Lo ran her thumb along his cheek. "Don't fret, little one," she said softly. Her mind was elsewhere, however, as she contemplated all that this would mean: she had no facilities in her quarters to care for an underweight, unauthorized experiment—she didn't even have means of transporting him to her quarters.
He eventually closed his eyes, fast asleep despite how chilly it was in the lab. Min lo cast her eyes about the room, looking for anything she could use to hide the child. There was a white duffel bag on the floor by the sink, but it was thin—any uneven weight would make the whole thing tip.
A sharp hiss brought her attention to the door, her heart jumping and hammering within her narrow chest. The service droid trundled in almost cheerfully, its proud whistles and trills indicating that it had completed the tasks on the list.
"Did anyone see you?" Min Lo asked, absently stroking the child's head. He didn't flinch.
It beeped "no, none other than uninterested and busy droids".
She nodded her approval. "Good," she said to it. "I may need your services again later; save that data and make sure no one accesses it."
The droid seemingly swelled with its important duty. It chirped brightly and then shifted backward a bit, spinning on its wheels to trundle to the cabinets under the sink. Min Lo watched in mild curiosity as it opened the doors with its manipulators and started pulling out various items: lab coats, various datapads, and other miscellanea.
"What are you doing?" She watched in concern as the helper droid pulled out a small towel and trundled back over to her.
It held out its small manipulator arms, motioning the towel to the sleeping child on the table. When she took it, it then made slightly-frantic movements from the child to the duffel to the lab coats, towels, and datapads on the floor by the sink.
Min Lo was only half paying attention, too focused on drying and wrapping up the clone in a new towel than trying to figure out what it was that the droid was saying.
The droid beeped in what could only be described as an annoyed tone. It picked up the duffel and started laying in the datapads at the bottom, folding towels and placing them neatly on top until it had created a layer of cloth. It picked up the duffel by its straps—the bag's bottom completely even—and rolled back to Min Lo, placing it at her feet. It pointed.
"Ah," she said, lifting the bag onto the table. It cast a shadow that covered the child's small body. Carefully, her pale fingers wrapped around the back of his head and around his rear. She lifted him and placed him within the bag. Min Lo could barely here his slightly-raspy breathing as he slept soundly. She rubbed his head one last time, zipping it up most of the way. "Thank you, service droid." She slowly lifted the bag and placed the strap on her slender shoulder, feeling its weight tilt her to the right a bit. "Clean up in here while I visit my quarters. If anyone asks, I left to attend to some errands and will return shortly."
The droid whistled cheerily, moving to clear up the mess it had made on the floor by the sink. As Min Lo opened the doors to the large lab, it waved goodbye at her, almost humming out the small word. She only tipped her head at it, amused by the droid's optimistic behavior.
The halls were white and quiet, brighter-white linings and the dark windows being the only contrast. Min Lo turned left, toward the sectioned-off area that led to her quarters. She passed few other beings as she walked, and they paid little attention to her other than a nod from her subordinates or
She didn't realize how hard her heart had been pounding until she stepped through the doors to her quarters. In the silence, she only heard her own breathing and the rushing of blood in her ears. Her quarters were shrouded in darkness, and Min Lo made no move to turn on the overhead lights. The furnishings were sparse: a low bed on the left wall with the refresher door about a meter away from it, a wide closet on the right, and a window that made up the entire back wall directly across from her, floor-to-ceiling. Beyond it, the slate grey ocean rose and fell, dark clouds unleashing their torrent of rain and wind on the wide expanse of sea.
The Kaminoan stood still for what seemed like an eternity—it must have been an eternity for her heart to finally calm down. Suddenly, the weight of the bag on her shoulder became unbearably real, and she set it down onto her bed. Unzipping the pale duffel, she examined the sleeping child within. His arms were curled up towards his face, lips slightly parted.
Min Lo stood back, spotting the packages she had requested for the first time. They sat in a small huddle in the middle of the floor, boxes of various sizes stacked one on top of the other. There were about five. With still-shaking fingers, she opened the first box and pulled out its contents: baby clothes, all different colors but small enough for a two month old child.
The other boxes held infant formula, bedding, a crib she would have to build herself, and music to calm him for when he was crying. Holding up a soft blue onesie, she aimed her attention back at the duffel bag. She hoped he wouldn't make a fuss when she tried to get it onto him.
Sure enough, he started to cry once he was removed from the bag.
Min Lo couldn't help but cringe. The walls were fully sound proof, but his screaming was loud and grating. It was difficult to get his arm through the sleeve while he squirmed, but she managed it in a few minutes.
After another two minutes of whimpering, he lay quietly in her arms, staring up at her with wide eyes. The tears were beginning to dry on his face.
"Do not be sad, little one," she said softly, stroking his cheek. He seemed to like it, for when she had first started he immediately lowered his cry to whining. She turned her head, staring out at the raging storm beyond the window. She would dim the glass and set to work building the crib while he slept.
Once more, Min Lo looked down at his now sleeping face—and once more, the realization that she had done something highly illegal set in. Her creation couldn't be found, no matter what, no matter how much she wanted to boast about her discoveries. The scientist let her shoulders sag, all of her energy leaving her.
It had taken almost two years to perfect the new genome that would expand a clone's life span, and the proof of that was in her arms, in the form of a small, two-month old baby.
The first installment of Ridge's "biography"—everyone in Crusade Squad will get one, although the titles of which still have yet to be figured out.
Review, critique, comment, almost anything will be accepted!