What's worse?

Could it be the cold, un-deflected by Sierra's shirt, which makes her fingers and toes burn with cold? If there was enough light, she bet she could see her own breath.

If the cold wins, the siren isn't a distant second.

When she first saw the speaker, she assumed it was there to listen in on what she said and did. When Tor left, she directed her attention up to it and said something Lux said when he thought she couldn't hear.

Here is the clean version: Hello, Imperial friends! I would really rather not be visiting you today, but I'm rather impressed with how well the air conditioning is working. A judge would love to hear about all of this. As soon as I manage to get a message over to my friends, they shall locate you and cause you great bodily harm!

A few seconds after she finished spitting out the last sentence, the speaker showed its other function when it spit out a high-pitched whistle sharp as needles.

She wished she could cover her ears, but it would be very useful if her hands weren't cuffed behind her back. She can only tuck her chin to her chest, but that does nothing to muffle the sound.

Her head is pounding with the siren's squeal. She can't feel her toes. All she can do is pray that she'll go deaf.

Suddenly, the siren shuts off. She lifts her chin to look at the speaker, half-expecting lasers to come out of it.

The silence is absolute, deafening. Her ears ring.

And then the door opens.

Tor walks in, holding the thermometer.

"Good morning."

It's morning? How long have I been here?

He kneels in front of her and deftly switches the thermometer on to put in her ear. When he reaches out to take ahold of her face, she pulls her head back, teeth bared.

"This doesn't have to be so difficult." Tor grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her head to the side, stuffing the thermometer in her ear. "All I want is a temperature."

"You already have it!"

"I need your current temperature. You have to check more than once, make sure you aren't getting sick."

The thermometer beeps. Tor pulls it out, still not releasing her hair.

"Well look at that," he marvels. "You've gone down a whole degree. Now aren't you glad I checked?"

She doesn't answer. Tor turns the thermometer so she can see the readout.

"Ninety six point four."

Even if she couldn't see it, she believes it. She's never felt colder in her life.

Tor gathers her hair behind her head in a ponytail, his fingers brushing against her neck followed quickly by something cold, something metal.

A split second later there's a shick , and Tor holds a good six inches of her hair in his hands.

"I'm sorry," he says. "But it's necessary. You know at what temperature hypothermia sets in, right?" she glares at him and he ignores her. "The diagnosis comes into effect when your temperature hits ninety-five degrees. You're a degree away."

"So?" she snaps, even though her little Shoulder Angel and Shoulder Devil are fretting Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. This is bad, Sierra!

"I'm sure your father told you what happens to a hypothermic person. Slurred speech, loss of coordination, poor decision-making. Eventually, you're going to go into a coma and die."

Dad may not have gone into details, but Mom and Ahsoka sure did. He's right.

Then again, when it comes to ways to die, hypothermia's not a bad way to go. It doesn't hurt; you just fall asleep.

"We won't let that happen right away, of course." Tor stays, dashing the hope of going to sleep and waking up in heaven. "Your dad probably didn't fill you in on interrogation rooms, but I'll give you the grand tour."

Her face flushes and she yanks her face away. "My dad never tortured someone. He wouldn't! Not Ahsoka, not any of the clones, no one!"

Tor's face crunches. "You little -."

She doesn't hear the rest of it because the sound of his slap drowns out the word.

With half her face white-hot and the rest of her body freezing, Tor stalks out of the cell, her hair in his hand.

"Ninety-six point four, Sierra. Clock's ticking." He announces, slamming the cell door.

The siren starts back up in about two seconds.

…

Mina leans around from behind Steela, meeting her gaze in the mirror. "Steela, you have to hold still for me."

"Do you think it looks realistic enough?" she asks. "Shouldn't it be a little smaller?"

Ahsoka points to Tavin, snoozing against her chest. "You remember when I was pregnant with him, right?"

"Yeah, your belly was a lot smaller than this!"

A smile plays at Mina's lips. "Ahsoka's belly didn't stick out as much because she carried towards the back of the womb, and she was so muscular already. But that won't happen for a skinny-Minnie like you."

Internally, Steela groans. "Hey Hero, you're supposed to be guarding the door."

Ahsoka and Mina are here to make sure the fake belly is realistic. Hero's here to guard the door, on account of Steela walking around in her underwear. ("Sorry Steela, but your clothes won't fit over it.")

"I never realized how small of a frame you have." Mina notes, fastening the fake belly's snaps behind her. "Okay, Steela. How does that fit?"

She walks around, trying to get used to the unwieldy thing strapped to her. The fake pregnancy belly is a hollow contraption made of wire and some rags which holds their gear and will hopefully sneak her and Rex past security. As Hero put it later, Tor's not looking for a pregnant woman or a soon-to-be-dad.

"It feels weird."

"Your center of gravity is off." Ahsoka and Mina say in unison.

"Hey, you guys staged into this. Steela got thrown into it right off the bat." Hero says. "But seeing this, I'm very glad I adopted my kid. That bolo-ball-under-the-shirt look just wouldn't suit me. But it looks great on Steela!"

"Very funny, Hero."

"I'm serious. You should wear this more often. Or better yet, you should marry Rex and -."

"I'm not going to marry Rex!" she cries for the third time since they started to make her fake belly. Yes, she had been counting.

"I've got those old maternity clothes," Ahsoka says, holding out a bundle.

"Halleluiah." Steela mutters, grabbing the pants and slipping them on, grateful to no longer be practically prancing around in her underwear.

Hero snickers. "Don't forget your shoes."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." she reaches down to put on her boots when…she is stopped.

She tries to maneuver. No dice. She looks down to see if she can get a better angle.

Steela can't see her feet. All she can see is the fake belly, which pushes Ahsoka's pink maternity shirt out so far it swallows the view of her lower half.

"Guys, a little help?"

She knows she's not going to get any from Hero. Ahsoka and Mina are out as well, they're too busy laughing.

Oh. Now she sees what Ahsoka and Hero are doing. Getting Mina to laugh at her is good. She needs to take a break from the awful situation for a few minutes.

But back to the task at hand: how does she get these boots on? As for the laces, she'll cross that bridge when she comes to it.

She sits down and tries to put the boots on. Nothing.

"Any suggestions, Ahsoka?"

Ahsoka wipes her eyes. "When I was that pregnant, I had Lux do it for me."

Of course. Of course Lux had to put her shoes on and tie the laces.

I know what she wants me to do. Remember, it's all to help Mina calm down.

She walks into the hallway, boots in hand.

"Rex, I need a favor."

….

Rex kneels in front of her, guiding her feet into her boots like Prince Charming. Steela, the not-so-lovely Cinderella incarnate, sits on the couch while he puts on the first boot, ties the laces, then moves on to the second.

"He even double-knotted them." Saw points out. "He doesn't want his wife and baby to trip."

"SAW!"

"I didn't want to tie them again." Rex explains.

"I don't want you to tie them again either."

"You two are really cute." Katooni says.

Tandin makes a sound like "Hmpf!" He's as thrilled about this job as Rex and Steela are.

"Do you want to be the flower girl at their wedding?" Hero whispers to Katooni at a volume she thinks Steela can't hear. Steela lets it go.

"All right, let's get this done." she grumbles, and tries to stand up.

But the fake belly gods laugh down on her. Steela you fool, they seem to snicker, Did you really think we wouldn't make you defy the laws of physics again?

The effort it takes to get out of the chair feels like all the crunches in the world. Maybe more. Luckily for her, Rex takes her hand to help her get up.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Saw pretends to blot his eyes. "I think I'm tearing up."

Rex sighs. "Come on, Steela. Sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get you out of that thing."

…

"Remind me why we're here again." Katooni asks as she pushes the shopping cart.

Hero selects a few potatoes and puts them in the cart. "We still need groceries, and since I do most of the cooking I have to pick them out."

"Why can't we make Saw do it?"

"Because Saw never picks out the right things. Now do you want apples or pears?"

Katooni glances around the store. "Can we get oranges?"

"Sure. Pick out eight or nine, Hutch loves them. We have lemons on the list too and they're in the bin right next to the oranges."

"How many do you want?"

"Three big ones. Make sure they're not squishy."

She goes back to the potatoes, trying to remember if they have enough blue milk and butter to make mashed potatoes.

"Katooni, do you like mashed-?"

"Matthew? Matthew!?"

A frantic woman darts through the produce aisle, shouting the name. Hero glances around the store for any kids by themselves, anyone who could be this Matthew.

"Kat, do you see any kids by…"

Katooni isn't at the orange bin.

"Katooni?" Hero cranes her neck to see if her daughter is done with the lemons. Or the bananas. Or the pears – Please Katooni, be with the pears!

"Katooni?"

Not with the fruit, or the veggies, not at the display advertising taffy apples.

A sick feeling rises up inside her.

"KATOONI!"