The word "Grandpa" echoed in the bunker lab like a gunshot. Rick Sanchez's face cycled through five stages of grief in three seconds: denial, anger, more anger, bargaining with a reality he hated, and finally, a manic, scientific fury.
"NO!" he roared, pushing the President aside. "Impossible! False! It's a psychological tactic! They're playing with me!"
"Seems to have gotten to you, Rick," the President said, enjoying the show more than he had enjoyed any G7 summit.
"It hasn't gotten to me at all!" Rick shrieked, though his eye twitched visibly. "Reproduction is a biological mess for inferior species who haven't mastered cloning or consciousness transfer! And parenthood is a societal trap! And 'grandparenthood' is the f-f-f-final level of that stupid life scam! I refuse to accept it!"
His panic instantly transformed into action. He darted across the lab like a tornado. He grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall. He ripped a security camera from the ceiling. He snatched a stapler from a desk and a flask from a horrified Secret Service agent.
"If you want an answer, never trust biology!" he ranted as he welded the pieces together with mad precision. "Trust science! The science that tells you the cold, hard truth! The science that tells you you're alone in an indifferent universe and nothing matters! That's the science I like!"
In less than ninety seconds, he had fashioned a device. It was a monstrosity: the body of the extinguisher, the camera lens as a bulbous eye, the stapler as a kind of trigger, and the flask taped to the side, wired in, presumably for power... or flavor.
"The Gestational Parasite Confirmation Bio-Analyzer 9000!" he announced, holding up his creation. "It doesn't lie! And it's gonna prove all of you are full of shit!"
With that, he burst back into the conference room, where the conversation had completely halted. He ignored the President, the General, and everyone else. He strode directly to Padmé, who watched him with a calm that infuriated him further.
"Don't move, space majesty!" he ordered, aiming the device at her.
Kaelen half-rose. "Hey, easy there, old man. It's just a possibility—"
"SHUT UP, DISAPPOINTING FUTURE FATHER!" Rick screamed at him.
He squeezed the stapler's trigger. A beam of multicolored light, vaguely smelling of bourbon and panic, engulfed Padmé for a second. The device hummed, vibrated, and then beeped.
A small slot on the side of the extinguisher spat out a strip of paper, like a parking ticket.
Rick snatched it and read it. His eyes went wide. All color drained from his face. He read the strip again, as if refusing to believe what his own science was telling him.
"Well?" Kaelen asked, a smug grin on his face.
Rick didn't reply. He simply handed the paper to Kaelen with a trembling hand.
Kaelen and Padmé read it together.
ZYGOTE DNA ANALYSIS COMPLETE. COMBINATION OF GENETIC MARKERS DETECTED: 50% HUMAN-EARTH (ROR/SANCHEZ LINEAGE), 50% HUMAN-NABOO (AMIDALA LINEAGE). GESTATION STATUS: POSITIVE. ESTIMATED WEEKS: 2.3. FORCE POTENTIAL PROJECTION: HIGH. PROBABILITY OF CAUSING EXISTENTIAL PARADOXES: 73%. ADDITIONAL NOTE: CONGRATULATIONS, GRANDPA.
Padmé's hand flew to her belly, a look of awe and pure happiness illuminating her face. It was real. The promise they made in a motel room had become a scientific certainty. She looked at Kaelen, her eyes filled with tears of joy.
Kaelen smiled, a genuine, radiant grin, and kissed her. "Looks like our practice was... very efficient."
The President, who had read the ticket over Kaelen's shoulder, burst out laughing again. "Congratulations, Senator, Director! Looks like diplomacy has been very fruitful!"
But Rick was no longer listening. He let the Bio-Analyzer drop to the floor with a thud. He walked like a zombie to the wall, slid down to the floor, and sat there, staring blankly ahead. He pulled out his personal flask, drained it in one gulp, tossed it aside, and pulled out another, larger one, from an inner pocket of his lab coat.
He had confirmed his worst fear. The universe, in its infinite and comical cruelty, had made him a grandfather. The ultimate nihilist now faced the ultimate test of an unwanted legacy. A grandchild with the potential to be Force-sensitive, super-intelligent, and worst of all, optimistic.
The man who could destroy galaxies had been defeated by a small paper ticket from a fire extinguisher.