Caring for an infant—in secret, no less—was a new stress Min Lo hadn't actually thought of when tampering with the Fett genome.

The infant was biologically two months old. He could follow her finger and lights, and he could sit up with some assistance. He could hold his head upright when on his belly, which meant that he would be crawling or rolling soon. The medical droid she had hijacked and forced to live in her quarters repeatedly reminded her that talking to him was important for his development, as was feeding him and playing with him herself.

Despite being out for most of the day and only being able to see the child when he was asleep, he'd already taken more of a liking to Min Lo and cried when left with the medical droid for too long.

So she played with him now if only to keep him quiet. His curly dark hair rose up in odds and ends on his head, slightly thinner towards the middle. Min Lo ran her fingers through it, watching as the strands straightened out and curled immediately after release. The infant stared at her the entire time.

The scientist, for all her years of schooling and experience and all of her planning, saw many things that she hadn't considered: babies are loud, they smell when they soil themselves, they need constant feeding, and they are disturbingly expressionless. Min Lo had even tried unsuccessfully to prompt a smile from him—she even made faces and high-pitched voices the way civilian mothers did. He only stared.

Experimentally, she poked his side and was gratified with a tiny twitch of a smile.

A loud clap of thunder returned her to her task; she'd originally been changing him, not trying to make him laugh. She was almost done, only needing to rub on the baby powder and fasten the diaper.

He looks at the window when the thunder sounds again, his little body jerking in surprise. Bursts of lightning flash, briefly lighting up the stormy clouds in the slate grey sky. The infant gurgles at the display of lights, his tiny legs flailing.

"You like that?" The thunder and lightning mean nothing to her, but because his senses are still developing, every new thing is a delight for the baby. Min Lo hums and finishes wrapping up his diaper.

Bzzzz!

Her back freezes, every nerve tingling with a rush of adrenaline so sudden that her hand shake. Min Lo hurriedly waves the droid over. "Finish dressing him and clear everything away; hide in my bathroom until I am finished and keep him quiet." This last part she cannot stress enough.

The droid obeys silently and doesn't even watch Min Lo nearly speed walk out of her bedchamber.

The lights are brighter in her "living room". The door leading to the hallway connecting her quarters with a few others are a clean, even white. The thunder is a mere low rumble in this part of her quarters. Beside the door is a screen with another Kaminoan's face displayed on it. He looks from side to side before ringing the buzzer again.

Min Lo takes a breath before pressing a button on the panel to open the door. "Mala Tel," she says, "is there something wrong in the lab?"

Mala Tel consults a datapad he holds in his hands. "There seems to be a few errors in the tabulation of our most recent batch of cadets. The chemical formulas need rebalancing and—"

"You could not have simply sent a message or someone in your stead?" Min Lo has an inkling of an idea as to why Mala Tel came out of his way to tell her about such trivial matters.

A quick blink and tiny, strangled-sounding throat clear displays the younger Kaminoan's embarrassment. "I just happened to be on my way, Mistress Lo." He quickly regains his serene composure. "And Lama Su would like to speak with you." He must have seen her twitch and stiffen because he quickly tries to downplay the severity of such a report. "I am sure it is nothing serious. He must want to see how his favorite scientist is fairing—he favors you, you know."

Min Lo shakes her head, more to herself than at Mala Tel's words. "When does he want to see me?"

"Tomorrow; he will send an escort for you."

She nods. "Thank you, Mala Tel."

He bows gently and walks away.

Min Lo stares at the closed doors for what feels like hours, waiting for her heart to calm down—but it still maintains its sprinting pace, so she shakes herself and exhales.

The Prime Minister wants to see her.

Her stomach flips in a nowhere-near-pleasant way, something she'd eaten earlier souring within her. Whatever the reason, it could not have been good. No amount of sugar coating from Mala Tel would calm her down. Min Lo collapses onto the clean white couch, tipping her head back as far as her neck would allow.

Lama Su wants to speak with her.

Min Lo shivers. Forcing down unpleasant thoughts, she steps into her bedchamber and opens the bathroom door. "You can come out now," she whispers, still cautious.

A closet slides open and the medical droid steps out, the infant cradled in its arms. The baby's large brown eyes immediately lock on her, and his fist leaves his mouth long enough for him to make a grabby motion with his hand. "He remained silent, although stressed, Mistress Lo," the droid says. "I played music softly for him in order to keep him calm."

"Yes, thank you. I will hold him now." Physical contact was important. She'd read that babies, especially human and near-humans ones, constantly craved closeness from their mother or caregiver—also, he would get cranky if she did not carry him for a few minutes.

The droid places the baby in her extended arms.

"I barely see you and yet you prefer me over your caretaker." Min Lo can't keep the fondness out of her voice or the smile off of her face. She pokes his forehead and he gurgles, and her smile grows.

"It is because he knows you are organic, and I am a machine," the droid says, interrupting her thoughts. "I am not warm or female—I also do not sing to him. Infants sense these things."

"Hmm…yes," she answers absently, exiting the bathroom. "Clean up and prepare his food for tomorrow, please."

"Yes, mistress."

Min Lo sits on her bed, the mattress sinking under her weight. She remembers another Kaminoan—a friend—complaining about the softness of it, how it was bad for one's back. Apparently, she prefers it softer than most Kaminoans would. Min Lo places the baby on the bed and watches as he squirms around, trying to get a view of his surroundings. He would mostly see the hood that covers the head of her bed, but not much else.

"Play time, young one," Min Lo says, placing her fingertips inside the infant's saliva-covered fists. He immediately latches on—reflex—and squeezes tight. Gently, she pulls upward, forcing him to use his neck and arm muscles to support himself. This exercise would strengthen his neck muscles and make him develop faster.

He gurgles as saliva drips down his chin. Min Lo stops the exercise to search for wipes for him. She always keeps them in her bedside drawer, in case the infant drooled on her or had his fingers in his mouth for too long.

She freezes at the drawer; her fingers are shaking. They tremble like rickety bridges or a building during the beginnings of an earthquake and they don't stop, even when she wraps one hand around the other and holds them to her chest.

She has to admit to herself that she is terrified.

The infant looks at her, curious-eyed and ever fidgeting. He loses an interest and put his fist in his mouth.

Min Lo takes a breath, even shakier than her fingers, and closes her eyes. Why would the Prime Minister, the personal overseer of the clone army, want to meet a simple scientist such as herself? Her position wasn't so important as hired bounty hunters who oversaw the training of the clones or the Kaminoans who actually put the embryos in their tanks. She simply managed the balance of chemicals and oversaw the clones' general development.

Unless he knew.

Her heart lurches into her throat and her stomach turns again. She glances down at the little baby, his eyes half-lidded and fist slowly slipping from his mouth. She stands and goes to the kitchen to find something to eat, changes her mind, and lies down next to him. He's fast asleep by now, his chest rising and falling quickly. For whatever reason, human infants' heartbeats and breathing rates are higher. Min Lo rests her fingers on his belly and grows calm from his even little breaths. Her mind continues to race, however?

Would Mala Tel be the one to deliver her? A droid? Where would the meeting take place?

Would she be removed from her position? How would she transport the child to a safe place?

She feels her stress rising again, so she inhales and watches the infant twitch in his sleep. His lungs clear of fluid, he breathes more evenly and for longer periods of time. When he wakes, she will have to feed him.

Thunder claps. Min Lo falls asleep to the steady roll of the storm.


It's been a while since I updated this; sorry about that. I'm getting my writing muse back, although I'm not sure when War of Monsters will be updated again.

~AAx