Jack Campbell - Perilous Shield

“The mitochondrial DNA does not match.”

Drakon flicked a glance at his screen. “That’s right.”

“The DNA sample in my official record was falsified.” Malin slowly held up one arm, moving with care to avoid any appearance of threatening Drakon. “The DNA on my embedded personal data chip is accurate. Any variation there from my actual DNA would have been spotted long ago.”

“You falsified your DNA in your official record? Why?”

Malin sighed, looking unhappy. “I had to. Otherwise, a connection might have been spotted during routine genetic screening using official records.”

“A connection? To what?” Had Malin been a spy for the Alliance all this time? Or somehow linked to the enigmas? Or, impossible as it seemed, the snakes?

“Mitochondrial DNA, General,” Malin said. “It identifies the mother of any individual.”

“You wanted to hide who your mother was?” Drakon shook his head, baffled. “Your mother was a Syndicate medical executive. Even the snakes never claimed there was anything in her record that would bring suspicion on her. She died, what, eight years ago?”

“Yes, sir,” Malin said, his voice growing thin with stress. “Medical Executive Flora Malin died eight years ago, of complications from exposure during Syndicate research assignments. She gave birth to me. She raised me. But she was not my biological mother.”

“Hell, lots of people have tangled family histories. There was a war on for a century! Why hide who your biological mother was? Was she a snake?”

“No, sir.” Malin pointed to Drakon’s display. “Run a comparison check on the actual sample, General, the one Colonel Morgan pulled from me. You will find a match for the mitochondrial DNA.”

“Your biological mother is on this planet?”

“You can limit the search to headquarters personnel, General.” Malin looked as if his face had drained of blood now, but his voice stayed calm.

The sensors in the chair said there was no deception in Malin. Frowning in puzzlement, trying to guess which of the soldiers assigned to his headquarters could possibly be Malin’s biological mother, Drakon ran the search.

The answer popped up almost instantly. A perfect match.

Drakon stared at the answer. He could read the words, but the meaning kept slipping away from him. They couldn’t possibly be saying what his eyes kept seeing.

Colonel Malin’s voice sounded as if it were coming from somewhere very far away. “As I am certain the DNA match confirms, my biological mother is Colonel Roh Morgan.”

“When Morgan said she knew my secret, I thought that meant she had discovered not just the DNA discrepancy, but also our true relationship,” Malin explained in that same unnaturally calm voice. “I admit that I did not react properly.”

Drakon had been standing up until now, but he abruptly sat down, staring at Malin. “How? You’re almost the same age as— That mission.”

“Yes, sir,” Malin said. Now that the secret was out he spoke quickly. “The mission. When Colonel Morgan was barely eighteen, a line worker in the commandos, she volunteered for a suicide mission aimed at learning more about the enigma race. She and the other volunteers were frozen into survival sleep. Twenty years after the mission began, it was canceled. Only Morgan and one other of the commandos were recovered.”

“I knew that,” Drakon said. “Though it’s easy to forget that Morgan is about twenty years older than her apparent age. Twenty years chronologically, because she didn’t age while frozen. But how ?”

“My mother was one of the medical executives assigned to prep the commando volunteers for survival sleep,” Malin explained. “While she was prepping Morgan, she discovered that Morgan, barely eighteen years old, was pregnant, so recently that Morgan herself was certainly unaware of the fact.”

“A last-minute fling before going off to die,” Drakon guessed.

“Most likely, sir. Regulations called for the embryo to be destroyed under those circumstances. Medical Executive Flora Malin was unable to conceive on her own because of physical damage sustained during some of the same research projects that ultimately killed her. Deeply feeling the loss of her husband in the war, she saw the discovery of that embryo as a gift. Instead of destroying it, Flora Malin secretly preserved it and, a little while later, had it implanted. In time, I was born to her.” Malin closed his eyes, then opened them to look intently at Drakon. “I didn’t know. I hadn’t a clue, not until I was about to join the Syndicate forces and leave home. Then my mother confided the truth to me because I needed to know that there would be inconsistencies between my official DNA and who I really was. With her position inside the medical service, Flora Malin had covered that up, but now I would have to do it unless I chose to openly acknowledge my biological mother.”

Drakon sat back, not able to speak for a few seconds. “And Morgan had come back.”

“Right about that time, yes, sir. That’s why the deception was necessary. My mother Flora, as one of those involved in the initial mission, was called in to assist in reviving Morgan.” Malin’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. “She felt guilty. Guilty about what had been done to Morgan, about having Morgan’s child. She did what she could to help Morgan.”

The long-standing mystery finally explained itself. “Morgan got cleared for active duty and later for promotion to officer rank even though her psych evals were borderline, and she lacked any known patrons to pull strings for her. Your mother was in the medical service. She pulled the strings that got Morgan that medical waiver.”

“Yes, sir. Though that would have meant little if you had not subsequently given Morgan a chance despite her psych evals.” Malin looked down. “It took a while after I joined the ground forces to find out where Morgan was. I was torn about whether to see her. My mother, Flora, warned me that I might regret doing so, but as she lay dying, she urged me to finally follow my heart. I did so, arranging a transfer to your command, where Morgan was also serving.”

A single, sharp, mocking laugh came from Malin. “And so I came to meet my true mother.”

“And you found Morgan.”

“I found Morgan,” Malin agreed.

Drakon eyed Malin as he dredged up memories. “Morgan disliked you from the moment you first met.”

“I’ve wondered if she sensed something even at that first moment,” Malin said.

“And before long you returned the dislike.”

“She is Morgan, sir.”

“And your mother.” Drakon’s fist hit the desk. “That incident on the orbital platform. You weren’t trying to kill her. You really were just trying to save Morgan. Trying to save . . .”

“My mother.”

Drakon stared at Malin again, more memories coming to life. “You’ve stayed at this command to protect your mother? All those times… Malin, she’s Morgan !”

“I know.” Malin sounded as if someone was choking him.

“And she has no idea?”

“Not consciously, no, sir. I’m certain that at some subconscious level she knows, though.”

“I’d say it’s pretty damned certain she knows even if she’s not consciously aware of it!” Drakon exploded. “Morgan usually goes after people with fiery efficiency, but she hates you. Why the hell have you stayed around her? Why do you feel an obligation to protect her?”

Malin looked down, clasping his hands so tightly together that muscles, veins, and bones stood out clearly. “My mother, Flora, is not the only one who feels guilty.”

No deception noted, Drakon’s equipment advised.