The work of the technicians is efficient and professional, considering the task they've been assigned. And Hoskins supervises the whole thing from Blue's bedside. One of them tracks her vitals while another sets up an ultrasound for monitoring, and the technician in charge handles the process of in vitro fertilization. Hoskins looks as though he'd fast forward nine months into the future right now if he could.

It's a good amount of time working in focused silence, only minimal discussion passing back and forth between the technicians, when finally the one in charge straightens up in his seat and stands.

"Is that it?" Hoskins asks with impatience.

"She's implanted," the technician confirms, "but we won't know for a while if it was successful or not."

Hoskins has no doubts that it will be successful -- how could it not? -- but he still asks, "How long does it take?"

"In most cases, the waiting period is about two weeks. But that's for humans." The technician shakes his head slightly, shrugging. "We don't know enough about this aspect of the hybrid's physiology. She might feel it faster."

"Here's hoping," Hoskins says, the excitement audible in his voice no matter how even he keeps it. And he runs a slow, altogether possessive hand over Blue's hair. "Put her back in the cell. Make sure those chains are tight enough that she can't hurt herself this time. I want her as healthy as possible -- and subdued."