Chapter Text
Crosshair narrowed his eyes at the reg cadet standing at the door of his squad’s barracks. He was a teen in the midst of that gangly stage all clones went through just before they bulked up. His hair hadn’t yet darkened to the normal dark brown color it would be in adulthood. To his credit, he didn’t look intimidated when Hunter crossed his arms and said with a frown, “You’re here to retrieve just Crosshair?”
The cadet nodded. “My orders are to bring CT-9904, designation Crosshair, to the science wing immediately.”
“Why? Who sent you?”
“The chief scientist, Dr. Nala Se. She didn’t say why. And I didn’t ask. I’m just following orders.”
Crosshair pulled the toothpick from his mouth. After completing their latest mission, command had summoned the Bad Batch back to Kamino, though they didn’t give a reason. It was rare that he and his brothers came back to their homeworld anymore. There was always another mission waiting for them. The GAR needed their unique talents. They’d flown from one end of the galaxy to the other on back to back missions for months. This was the first time they’d been on Kamino in half a year. Crosshair was still reacclimating himself to that weird smell they could never find the source of in their barracks.
Hunter shook his head. “We stay together. If Crosshair’s in trouble, we’ll all take the fall.”
“I don’t think this is disciplinary action, sir. I’ve never been asked to retrieve a clone for that. I think the scientists want to talk to him about something.”
Hunter looked no more pleased to hear this. “Then we’ll talk to them together.”
Crosshair stood up from his bunk. “It’s fine. I’ll go.”
They had been here since yesterday awaiting further orders. With no direction for training or mission briefings, none of them were currently fully kitted. Crosshair wore the regulation tunic and pants over his blacks. He wished he had already put his armor back on, though. If the Kaminoans wanted to poke and prod him with needles, they would have a harder time of it if he were fully armored. Not that they wouldn’t just make him take it off.
It had been a while since any of his squad had been called to the science wing. When they were cadets, it was commonplace. The long necks were very interested in testing their experimental enhanced clones’ abilities. But as Crosshair and his brothers grew, the tests left the labs and moved mostly to the training grounds. He had no idea why that should change now. But if all the Kaminoans wanted was him, there was no reason for his brothers to be subjected to the same treatment.
“You sure?” Hunter asked, still frowning.
“It’ll be fine,” Crosshair said again. Wrecker gave him an apprehensive look and Tech glanced up from his work table. Crosshair ignored them both and maintained his usual air of nonchalance as he left the barracks behind. He walked with the cadet through the sterile white halls of Tipoca City.
He put his toothpick back in his mouth and gnawed on it with his molars as they went. Getting called to the science wing couldn’t mean anything good. Were the long necks displeased with his performance in the war? Did they want to inject him with something? Do more tests on his eyes? Crosshair went over his last few missions in his head. Everything had gone well. As well as it usually did, anyway. Which meant nothing went according to plan, but his squad still got the job done. His clanker kill count for the latest mission was 32. That was three higher than Wrecker, and ten higher than either Hunter or Tech.
Crosshair glanced down at the reg at his side. “You got a name?”
“Not yet,” the boy said. “I’m CT-8909.”
“And you’re an errand boy for the long necks?”
The cadet raised his chin. “I’m training to be a Kamino guard. I’m going to protect the homeworld.” He deflated a little. “But for now that means running supplies and messages around the city in between training sessions.”
Crosshair grunted. “Maybe they should call you Fetch.”
“No, don’t say that!” The boy quickly scanned the hallway with his eyes to see if any of the regs nearby were listening to them. “I’ve heard about how most people get their names from other clones. Once someone calls you a nickname and it catches on, you’re stuck with it. So please don’t call me that.”
“Whatever you say, Fetch.”
“No!”
Crosshair gave a single chuckle around his toothpick. Picking on the poor cadet during the long trek to the science wing gave him the distraction he needed to keep from over analyzing what the Kaminoans wanted from him. By the time they finally arrived, the boy walked him through several doorways toward one of the innermost labs and gave him a grumpy, “Good luck,” before leaving him there.
The final door opened for Crosshair, and he stepped inside. The medical lab was filled with various machines, cabinets and equipment. It was as white and spotless as any other. There was a large viewing window set into one wall. Three Kaminoans stood behind it, conversing out of his earshot. The middle one dressed in red was the chief scientist. She did not look up from her datapad. The only other being in the room with Crosshair was one of the med droids. What, did the scientists want the droid to administer something to him while they watched his reaction from their spectator box? He folded his arms across his chest and didn’t move forward.
For a minute, everyone ignored him. Even the droid was busy hovering around a small pod of some kind. If no one was going to tell Crosshair why he was here, maybe he could slip away without them ever realizing he had arrived. Then a strange sound split through the quiet hums and beeps of the lab equipment. It was a high, piercing wail. Crosshair flinched. If he had Hunter’s senses, he was sure an instant migraine would have formed. The sound came from the pod. When there was a brief pause before the sound continued, like a tiny breath being drawn in, he realized what it must be.
A baby’s cry. He had never heard one before, at least not in his memory, but that was the only thing it could be.
The droid spun its body around to face Crosshair. “CT-9904. Please approach.”
Crosshair dropped his toothpick on the floor and hesitantly came toward the pod and the eardrum-cushing sound. The two Kaminoans behind the chief scientist paused their conversation to watch him through the window. When he got close enough to the pod, he confirmed his suspicions. A little baby squirmed atop a pillowed surface in the pod. It was dressed in a tiny gray jumpsuit, and the short curls hugging the crown of its head were blonde. Its face was flushed red, and tears coated its temples. Its toothless mouth was open impressively wide for something so small. Who knew lungs that tiny could produce such a loud sound?
Crosshair wrinkled his nose. The baby could not have been decanted for more than a few days. A week at most. It looked about the same size as the full term clones right before they came out of their tubes. “What’s a fresh tubie doing down here?” He glanced again at all the machinery around the room. Were the long necks running experiments on this clone like they used to do for him and his brothers? If so, what did that have to do with him?
The droid scooped its mechanical arms under the baby and lifted it up. “Please hold out your arms.”
“What?” Crosshair stepped back. “Why?”
“My orders are for you to hold the baby.”
“Why?” he asked again. “I’m the worst possible person for that.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Please copy the posture of my arms, and I will place her in your hold.”
“Her?” Crosshair was surprised enough by that one word that he didn’t have a chance to protest again before the droid was suddenly shoving the squalling baby against his chest. He hastily raised his arms. The baby’s head rested in the crook of his elbow. The rest of her body only took up the length of his elbow to his palm. He could have held her with one arm, but he put his right arm beneath his left for support just in case. He leaned his face as far away from her as he could. Her flailing and crying were even worse up close.
“What do you want me to do?” he yelled over the noise.
“Try and soothe her.”
“How?”
“I have no specific direction for you. The child is declining. She has refused to accept sustenance, and is not responding to ministrations from droids or Kaminoan medical staff. Even despite receiving nutrients intravenously, her condition continues to worsen. The doctors believe she may be craving human attention.”
“And your bright idea was for me to give it to her? There wasn’t a single clone you could think of who might be a better choice?” Wrecker immediately came to his mind. Despite his love of destruction and explosions, Wrecker was a surprisingly gentle soul. Surely there were plenty of regs like that too. There had to be some of them who would be up to this task.
“You were specifically requested.” The droid motioned to the baby with one of his mechanical hands. “Please.”
Without any clue what he was doing, Crosshair bounced his arms awkwardly. “Hey,” he said. “Hey, womp rat. Shut it, will you? Stop making that noise. It’s irritating.”
The kid didn’t stop. Her eyes were screwed shut as she wailed pitifully. Crosshair bounced her harder. “Hey. Stop. Come on.” She turned her head toward his chest, paused for a breath, and kept bawling.
Crosshair tried to hand her to the droid. “It’s not working. Take her back.”
The droid made no move to accept the baby. Instead, he held out a bottle full of white liquid—milk or formula or something. Crosshair didn’t know. “If the child does not begin eating on her own soon, she is unlikely to survive.”
“Then go get someone else to feed her.”
“You are here to prove a theory. I’m afraid I cannot let you leave until the test is complete. The doctors request that you attempt both holding and feeding.”
Crosshair glared at the Kaminoans through the window. The chief scientist had turned her back to him and was now talking with the other two long necks in a tight circle. He snatched the bottle with his right hand. “Fine. I’ll give you one minute. Then you’re taking her back and getting someone else.” He held the bottle up and shoved the rubbery nipple end into the baby’s open mouth. She turned her head the other way and screeched. The sound was terrible. It grated on his every nerve. The Kaminoans were insane. There was absolutely no reason they should expect him to be successful at a task like this.
He began counting down the seconds in his head. The baby continued to turn away from the bottle as she squirmed and cried. He reached thirty seconds before he was certain he’d be deaf for days. “Come on,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just get it over with.” Without thinking, he wrapped his fingers around her tiny foot and began rubbing a circle on her arch with his thumb. It took him a moment to realize he was doing it. It took him a few more seconds to remember that he used to do that with Wrecker long ago.
When he and his brothers were very young cadets, Wrecker was afraid of the dark. He used to insist that Crosshair, with his keen night vision, sleep in his bunk with him. Crosshair refused to be the cuddle buddy Wrecker clearly wanted, so he would sleep the opposite way in bed with his head near his brother’s feet. And sometimes, when Wrecker cried, Crosshair rubbed his foot in a small show of support until Wrecker fell asleep. Crosshair never understood why it was comforting, but it worked.
The baby took another breath. Then she shut her mouth around the bottle. She peeled open her eyes, tears clinging to her long lashes. She peered up at Crosshair with wide brown eyes that latched onto his face. In fact, she might have been staring at the tattoo around his eye. She blinked as though realizing for the first time that she was being held by another human.
She pulled in a single suckle of milk. Crosshair saw her throat bob as she swallowed. She took another drink and then another. Soon she was guzzling it. And all the while, her eyes remained fixed on his face.
Crosshair raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t believe that actually worked. He looked at the droid, but it simply watched him with an expressionless metal face. He glanced at the Kaminoans again. They were all observing him now. The chief scientist lowered her datapad.
“Does this prove your theory?” Crosshair asked.
“Indeed it may,” the droid said.
“Good. Then you can call someone else next time she needs to eat, right?”
The droid didn’t respond. Instead, he went and retrieved a patient’s hoverchair from one corner of the room. “Please, have a seat.”
Crosshair relented. He supposed there was no need to keep standing there and increase his chances of dropping the kid. He sat and peered at her with an unexplainable sense of curiosity even as she watched him. It was like they were sizing each other up, trying to decide what to think.
“Why’d they make a girl clone?” he asked. “Is that why she’s down here on her own? Because she’s defective?”
“I’m afraid it’s against my protocol to discuss private patient information.”
Crosshair grunted. “She have a number? You can tell me that, right?”
“She has been designated as ‘Omega.’”
He frowned. No CT number? This was getting stranger by the minute.
Crosshair held the baby as she ate, never ceasing the gentle motion on her foot. He was afraid if he stopped she might start wailing again. He stole glances at the Kaminoans. The head scientist, Nala Se, put her long hands behind her back as she observed the clones through the window. The other two typed away on datapads with their overlong white fingers.
At last, the liquid in the bottle was gone. The droid took it away, and Crosshair stood. “She good now? Can I go?”
“You may,” the droid said. “Thank you for your cooperation. Please return the child to her pod.”
Crosshair decided not to argue that the droid should take her and do that himself. It would only serve to prolong his visit here. He bent over the pod and lowered his arms. Omega’s eyes still had not left his face. Just as he was about to ease her onto the pillow and extract his arms, the overhead lights happened to catch on her eyes in a way they had not while he held her.
Her eyes reflected the light like a mirror. Crosshair faltered, nearly dropping her the last few inches into the pod. Instead, he froze and stared at her eyes. Her irises shone with a bright greenish shield when the light hit them just right. She had night vision. Crosshair had never met another clone whose eyes did that. He thought he was the only one.
“She’s enhanced,” he said. “A sharpshooter?”
“It is against my protocol to discuss private patient information,” the droid repeated.
Crosshair lowered Omega the rest of the way into the pod. He straightened and stared down at her as she continued to stare up at him. He glanced again at the Kaminoans. Nala Se made a note on her datapad. Was this why she thought Crosshair was the right person to try and bring this baby back from the brink? Because they had been given the same enhancement? Why should that matter at this stage? It wasn’t like the kid knew any different.
He shook himself. Whatever. This still had nothing to do with him. He turned to go.
He had only made it three steps when Omega let out an indignant screech. Just as soon as he was out of her immediate sight, her crying resumed. It was possibly even louder now that she had taken strength from her feeding. Crosshair ground his teeth. He tried to keep going.
“Wait a moment please, CT-9904.”
The voice came over the loudspeaker. Crosshair turned toward the viewing window to find Nala Se pressing the comm button.
“I believe the child would benefit from further contact with you. Please continue to hold her until she falls asleep.”
Crosshair sneered. “That could take hours. I’ve done my part. I need to get back to my squad.”
“I will see to it that Clone Force 99 is not deployed again for at least another rotation. Please pick up the baby.”
Her voice left no room for argument. While Kaminoan officials were not exactly clones’ commanding officers, they held sway with Republic high command. If a clone was too unruly or disobedient to the long necks, the higher ups heard about it. Crosshair kept a growl contained in his throat. He was stuck.
He returned to the pod and got his arms under the little howling creature. It was easier now that he knew how. He wasted no time in rubbing her foot once more. He tried that for at least a minute while she went on crying. Why wasn’t it working this time? He thought he’d discovered the secret to making her shut up.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s your deal? I thought you were hungry before, but you can’t be anymore. So stop making that sound. It’s hurting my ears.”
The droid hovered over to him with a plain white cloth. Without asking, he draped it over Crosshair’s left shoulder. “My databanks indicate that a human child at this stage of development should be encouraged to remove gas from its stomach after feeding to relieve potential discomfort.”
Crosshair eyed the cloth. “And how am I supposed to do that?”
The droid guided him to rearrange Omega so that she was upright against his chest with her chin resting on the cloth. He was made to keep one hand behind her head, which she apparently couldn’t hold up by herself yet, and the other against her back.
“A gentle patting motion against her back should encourage her to expel the gas in the form of a burp and prevent her from spitting up.”
“Spitting what?”
With its mechanical hands, the droid indicated the motion Crosshair should make. Omega’s squalling was right beside his ear at that point, and, desperate for it to stop, he copied the motion.
She quieted almost at once. Instead of crying, she took to making little squeaks and other nonsensical cooing sounds. It only took a few seconds for a grunt that must have been a burp to rattle her chest. Crosshair tried to give her back at that point, but the droid made him keep doing it until she had burped three more times. Thankfully, there was no “spitting up.” He wasn’t positive what that meant, but it sounded disgusting.
Omega would not be still after that. He had been instructed to hold her until she fell asleep, but sleep didn’t seem forthcoming even after he readjusted her in her arms so that she was lying on her back again. The more he stood still, the more she squirmed, but he discovered that if he walked about the room with her, her eyes moved back to his face, and, as if she were in a trance, she stopped wriggling.
She watched him for some time as he walked from one end of the room to the other. The strangest part was that Crosshair could not stop watching her too. He watched the lights reflect in her eyes each time he moved directly under them. He studied her button nose. Her round face. Her brown eyes. He had the bizarre thought that she looked familiar. But that was stupid. Of course she did. Even if she was female, she was a clone. She wasn’t going to look all that different from her male counterparts. Crosshair would have to ask Tech how a female clone could be taken from a male host.
No. No, he wasn’t going to ask Tech. He didn’t want to tell his brothers about this at all. He could only imagine the teasing that would ensue if they found out he’d been strong-armed into babysitting a tubie. They wouldn’t let him live it down for months.
As Crosshair walked, he found himself swaying a little, though he wasn’t sure why. But the kid seemed to like it. The more he swayed side to side, the more her eyes drooped. She fought it. She kept jerking awake each time she drifted as though determined not to let Crosshair out of her sight for even a moment.
Finally, she lost the battle with exhaustion. Crosshair made two more circuits around the room to be sure she was out. Then he slowly lowered her back into the pod, careful not to jostle her too much. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up; then they would have to start all over, and he’d never get out of here.
Once she was settled on the pillow, he straightened and took a moment to watch her sleep. Her little chest rose and fell much faster than an adult’s would. In her sleep, she shifted her thumb into her mouth and lazily sucked on it. There was something oddly fascinating about her. A dull pressure stirred deep in Crosshair’s chest. It was simultaneously uncomfortable and warm.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” the droid said quietly. “You are dismissed.”
Crosshair stepped away. His arms suddenly felt cold without Omega’s warm weight cradled in them. For one bizarre second, it felt wrong to leave her. He shook his head. All that baby crying must have frazzled his brain. He turned and left the lab without looking back. In his peripheral vision, he saw Nala Se tracking him with her huge Kaminoan eyes.
* * *
Hunter was cleaning his knife when Crosshair returned to the barracks. He immediately dropped the cloth, flipped the knife around, and sheathed it. “So?” he asked. “What did they want?”
Crosshair sauntered over to his bunk. “Nothing.”
Tech, seated at his work station, set down his tools.
Wrecker sat up from where he had been lounging on his own bunk. “They didn’t run tests on you or something?”
“They did. Just a few scans of my eyes. No big deal.”
“I find that highly unlikely,” Tech said. “Your eyes should not have undergone any significant changes since you reached adulthood. Did they specify the reason for their scans?”
Crosshair reached for his box of toothpicks on the shelf beside his rack and fished one out. “No.”
Hunter narrowed his eyes at him. Crosshair focused on keeping his breathing and heart rate perfectly relaxed as he put the toothpick in his mouth and crossed his arms. He knew Hunter could usually tell when people were lying by the subtle cues their bodies displayed. As a result, Crosshair had learned how to keep complete control of his vitals while lying.
“There’s a strange scent on you,” Hunter said.
Crosshair chewed his toothpick.
“What kinda scent?” Wrecker asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t recognize it. Something…chemical? But also earthy.”
Crosshair wondered if he could be smelling the formula he’d fed Omega. It had smelled strong even to him. None of it got on his clothes that he knew of, but the smell of it might still be hanging around him just from the proximity. “They took a little blood too. Droid had a new skin cleanser for the site. That’s probably what you smell.”
Hunter frowned, considering him. “What aren’t you telling us, Crosshair?”
“Nothing.”
Wrecker shrugged and seemed happy to move on from the topic as long as his brother was unhurt, but Tech and Hunter exchanged skeptical glances. Thankfully, they chose not to push the issue for the time being.
The rest of the day passed without incident. They went to the mess hall and, for once, had a meal in which no regs provoked them into a fight. No orders for training or mission briefings came through. Hunter soon left the subject of Crosshair’s impromptu tests behind and began speculating the reason for this unplanned inactivity. Clone Force 99 was always in high demand for difficult missions. Why had they suddenly been sidelined? Crosshair said nothing. Nala Se said she would be sure they weren’t deployed for another rotation. So, surely something would come through by tomorrow.
He didn’t talk much to his brothers for the rest of the day, only responding to any inquiries with grunts or one word answers. This was not unusual for him. The others all knew he got like that when he was stressed or overtired. This time, however, he was neither. He just couldn’t stop wondering about the female tubie deep in the bowels of Tipoca City would shared his enhancement. Why would they make a girl sharpshooter? Why didn’t she have a CT number? Why did they think Crosshair was the right person to give her the human attention she needed? After he left Kamino again, would they call someone else to feed and hold her? Would she accept attention from any human, or were the Kaminoans right? Was he special in some way? Would Omega survive? And why was he thinking about it in the first place? It had nothing to do with him. Whether she lived or died, it changed nothing about his life.
That night, after all his brothers were long since asleep, Crosshair lay awake on his bunk. Had Omega eaten again? Had she accepted the bottle from the droid? How often did babies have to eat, anyway? Had she started crying as soon as she woke up and discovered Crosshair wasn’t there? Had the droid or the long necks been able to get her to stop? He rolled onto his side. He had to stop thinking about her. As soon as he had a new mission to focus on, he was sure he would forget all about his encounter with the baby. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
A sharp knock suddenly rattled against the door of their barracks. Crosshair sat up at once. Hunter, though he had been sound asleep, was not far behind. He was fully awake by the time Crosshair’s feet hit the floor.
The door slid open before anyone could move toward it. Behind it, silhouetted in the ever-present light of the hallway, was the same reg cadet from earlier. He was in the regulation sleep clothes, his hair was disheveled, and his eyes were glazed.
“Fetch,” Crosshair said.
The boy sneered at him. “CT-8909. They woke me up just so I could come get you, and I can’t go back to bed until I deliver you, so please don’t make this last longer than it has to.”
Hunter stood up. “They’re taking Crosshair again? Right now?”
Tech sat up in his bunk, rubbing his eyes, but Wrecker snored on in his own bed.
“That’s right,” Fetch said. “Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. I’m just a messenger. And I want to go back to bed.”
Crosshair moved toward the door, but Hunter grabbed his arm. “Hold it. What’s going on, Crosshair? Why are they summoning you in the middle of the night?”
“How should I know?” Crosshair said.
Tech threw off his blanket. “Take your comm. Leave it on so we can track you.”
“You’re overreacting,” Crosshair said. “It’s fine.” He shook Hunter off and left the barracks behind. “You don’t have to come with me,” he told Fetch once they were in the hallway. “I know the way.”
“Orders,” the cadet grunted. “I have to take you there, but you’re on your own for coming back. Just like last time.” He side eyed Crosshair. “What do the Kammies want you for, anyway?”
“Not your business, reg.”
Fetch wrinkled his nose. “Reg? What’s that mean?”
“Never mind.”
Crosshair fought the apprehension stirring in his gut as they made their way to the science wing. Was Omega declining rapidly, and they were bringing him in as a last ditch effort to save her? Was he going to have to watch her expire? He went ahead of Fetch when they neared the lab and didn’t bid him farewell before leaving him at the last door.
Omega’s cries filled the air as soon as the door opened. At least she was still alive. The droid hovered over her pod with a full bottle of formula. There were no Kaminoans in the viewing room this time.
The droid spun in the air to face him. “CT-9904. I was authorized by Dr. Se to contact you during the night if the child refused to eat. She has been crying since she woke up 4.32 hours ago, and has refused feeding. My updated protocol states that I should contact you to attempt a feeding before proceeding to tube feeding or intravenous intervention.”
“She’s been crying for four hours?” Crosshair reached the pod and peered in at the baby. She looked pale. Her cries were weaker than they had been earlier. The tear tracks on her temple had long since dried. She looked positively sick. “Hey, womp rat,” he said. He took her tiny foot between his thumb and middle finger and rubbed a circle. “Kid.”
Omega opened her eyes. Her gaze caught on his face and stayed there. She shut her mouth. Squirming, she whimpered pitifully. He got the feeling that if she had been coordinated enough to reach for him, she would have. Maybe that was just his imagination, though.
Crosshair scooped her up and snatched the bottle out of the droid’s hand. “Give me that.” He popped the bottle into her mouth. “If you’re hungry, you should eat, you little gremlin.”
At first, Omega just gummed the synthetic nipple as she gazed up at him. Then she finally began drinking.
“See? Was that so hard? What does it matter if it’s me or the droid giving you the bottle? I’m not always going to be here, so you’ve got to learn to take it either way. Got it?” The patient’s chair was still in place from earlier. Crosshair sat down while Omega drank. “You can’t just cry until you get sick. That’s not how things work around here. Most clones don’t get held as babies. Or at any other time. Why should you get special treatment?” He frowned. He wondered again why Omega was isolated in a science lab instead of in a creche with other clones. Surely being female didn’t matter at this stage. She might need separate combat training when she got older, but why not let the nursery droids care for her alongside other babies? Maybe she wouldn’t get so lonely that way. That was how most clones grew up.
But he knew the droid wouldn’t tell him the answers to those questions even if he asked. Maybe he could get the long necks to talk if he saw them again. Which raised the question: would he see them again? If Omega would only eat when he was holding her, how long was he going to be stuck here? Surely they would eventually call some other clone in and see how she responded to him. The scientists had proved their theory that Omega needed human interaction, right? So there was no need to observe him specifically. Surely they only called him tonight because he was still on Kamino. Surely they’d get someone else after he left for his next mission. They would do that before they let her die all alone down here with just a droid for company. Right?
Crosshair didn’t notice that the bottle had slipped away from Omega’s mouth until she whimpered. He readjusted it, but she turned her head away.
“Hey,” he said. “I think you have to drink all of this. It’s only half gone. She has to drink it all, right?”
“It would be ideal, as she is malnourished,” the droid said.
“You hear that? You have to—”
She started suckling the bottle again.
“There.” He went silent as she ate, but after a few seconds, she turned away again. “Come on, womp rat. Don’t complicate this.” She went back to eating. Crosshair raised an eyebrow. He remained quiet, and then when she stopped feeding, he said, “Keep going,” and she started again. “Wait… Do you just like the sound of my voice?” Omega blinked up at him, eyes never leaving his face. “Ugh. You seriously just want to hear me talk? They should have called Tech down here. He’s the talker. I famously am not. Usually when I talk, people tell me to stow it. I don’t usually have nice things to say.”
Glancing around the quiet lab, he realized something. There was no one here to tell him to shut up. No one to offend. No one to embarrass himself in front of. There was only the droid, who was most likely not programmed to judge the content of human speech unless it pertained to his medical protocols. Besides that, it was just himself and the infant. If he talked to her, no one was going to give him a hard time about it. His brothers didn’t need to know.
“I guess it’s just you and me then, eh?” he said to Omega. “Okay. If you want me to talk, I guess I can.” He thought for a moment. “You’re a sharpshooter like me, so I’ll tell you about being a sniper. I can’t think of another reason to enhance your eyes. That must be what they made you for. But being a sniper isn’t just about eyesight that can see an insect crawling on a leaf from a hundred meters away. It’s about reading the environment. Patience. Keeping track of the entire field of battle even while you’re tracking one target…”
Crosshair talked. More than he usually did in one sitting. It felt a little unnatural, but Omega was enthralled. She finished her bottle and then remained still and quiet as she listened. There was no way she could understand a word he was saying, but she seemed to enjoy it nonetheless. Her lips even twitched in what might have been an attempt at a smile. Could babies this young smile?
He wasn’t sure how long they remained like that. The droid helped Crosshair burp Omega again, and then she eventually fell asleep in his arms once more. Tubies sure seemed to sleep a lot. Or maybe she’d just worn herself out crying all evening.
“Thank you for your assistance, CT-9904,” the droid said. “You may see yourself out when you are ready.”
Crosshair didn’t get up right away. “What’s going to happen to her after I leave tomorrow? If she’s not taking the bottle from you, the doctors will call in another clone to do it, right?”
“I have yet to receive further orders from Dr. Se. But I am sure my protocol will be updated by morning.”
And what if she didn’t accept help from another clone? Would the Kaminoans call her a failed experiment and just let her die? An enhanced clone was probably expensive to make, so he supposed they would have an incentive to try and keep her alive, but when would they cut their losses? When would they deem Omega more trouble than she was worth?
For one crazy second, he imagined whisking the baby back to his barracks. His brothers would be interested to know there was another enhanced clone, if nothing else. But their lifestyles could never accommodate a baby. They were soldiers. Soldiers who were constantly on the move and constantly in the middle of dangerous warzones. Whatever Omega’s fate, it was out of Crosshair’s hands.
He stood and deposited her back in her pod. He brushed a single finger across the crown of her head. Her hair was the softest thing he’d ever felt in his life. “So long, womp rat,” he said. Leaving was even harder to do this time. Once again, he was hit with that sense of wrongness. Like this was where he was actually supposed to be. Not in the barracks with his brothers.
Crosshair stamped the feeling down. He needed to take on his regular sullen attitude before he went back and faced Hunter’s inevitable questions.