Twenty-four hours had passed since the "Confirmation." The government bunker had become Rick Sanchez's personal domain. One wall of the conference room, previously displaying geopolitical maps, was now covered from end to end with quantum physics equations, genetic flowcharts, and maniacal-looking scribbles—all written in permanent marker he'd stolen from a general.
Rick stood before his masterpiece of paranoia, muttering to himself.
"...if Force sensitivity manifests before full neural development, it could cause psionic feedback that turns the uterus into an unstable pocket portal... which means the baby could be born in a dimension of sentient spaghetti... no, no, Amidala's biological stabilization coefficient is too high... but if it inherits my propensity for dark matter manipulation..."
The rest of the family had learned to keep a safe distance. Padmé was in an adjoining room, reading Senate reports on a secure datapad Kaelen had built for her. Beth and Summer were comparing online baby furniture catalogs. Jerry was trying to explain to a Secret Service agent why a model train was the perfect gift.
Only Kaelen dared to enter the "insanity zone." He approached Rick, looking at the wall of calculations with genuine interest.
"Impressive," Kaelen said. "You've calculated the probability of the child developing a hive mind with the kitchen ants. A 0.003%, by the way. Good job."
"Don't distract me!" Rick snapped, not looking away from the wall. "I'm trying to calculate the existential risk factor! The variable that the child, in a tantrum, decides gravity is a 'suggestion' and makes the entire planet float into the sun!"
Kaelen studied the main equation, the nexus of all Rick's calculations. He squinted, his cybernetic eye and his human one. His own brain, now functioning at a level that almost rivaled Rick's in certain fields, detected an error. A small, almost imperceptible miscalculation, born of Rick's panic rather than his cold logic.
"You're wrong," Kaelen said calmly.
Rick froze. He slowly turned, a look of pure disbelief and fury on his face. "What... did you say?"
"Your base calculation. It's incorrect," Kaelen repeated, pointing to a part of the equation. "You've assumed a single source of gestational biomass. A single entity. Your entire model is based on the premise of a sole offspring."
"Of course it's one!" Rick shrieked. "My stupid analyzer's stupid ticket said so! Singular!"
"The analyzer measured the presence of new DNA. Not the quantity of vessels," Kaelen retorted. He lifted his cybernetic eye, which emitted a soft hum. "I performed a more detailed scan myself last night, while you were asleep. Using the technology from your own eye that you installed in me. It's far more precise."
He crossed his arms, a malicious, deliberate grin spreading across his face.
"So, I don't understand how a genius like you, with all these calculations about paradoxes and cosmic disasters..." he paused, savoring the moment.
"...hasn't realized that it's twins."
Rick's permanent marker clattered from his hand. The color, which had returned to his face in the past few hours, drained away again. His eyes went wide, comprehension and horror striking him like an interdimensional freight train.
Double.
Double Force potential.
Double Rick genius.
Double Amidala stubbornness.
Double probability of causing paradoxes.
Double... everything.
"Tw... tw...?" he stammered, unable to utter the word.
"Twins," Kaelen finished, immensely enjoying the situation. "A boy and a girl, according to my readings. Congratulations, Grandpa. Doubly so."
Rick didn't shriek. He didn't go insane. He did something far worse. He went completely blank. His brain, the most powerful supercomputer in the multiverse, had encountered a variable it could not compute and simply... shut down. He turned, walked to the wall of equations, grabbed an eraser, and with a methodical, terrifying motion, he erased everything. Every calculation. Every diagram. Every note.
Then, he sat on the floor, cross-legged, and began rocking back and forth, muttering: "Double trouble... double trouble... the universe hates me... double trouble..."
Just then, Padmé entered the room, drawn by the sudden silence. She saw Rick on the floor, rocking, and Kaelen standing beside him with a "mission accomplished" grin.
"Kaelen..." she said, her voice a warning.
"What? I just corrected his math," he said innocently.
"You broke his brain!" she retorted, though a small smile tugged at her lips. She walked over and gently nudged him. "I know he probably deserved it. But this man is our best defense against himself. We need him functional, not catatonic."
She leaned into Kaelen and whispered in his ear. "Are they really twins?"
"I have no idea," he whispered back. "My eye scanner doesn't even have that function. I completely made it up."
Padmé looked at him, first in disbelief, then she burst into muffled laughter. "You're terrible."
"I'm his son," he retorted with a wink. "It's genetic."
Together, they looked at the most brilliant man in the universe, reduced to a babbling mess by a perfectly calculated lie. The war could wait. For now, they would enjoy their small, domestic victory.