“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.
Malin looked up again, relaxing. “And as I got to know you and her better, sir, I felt an obligation to protect you from her.”
No deception noted.
“Does the fact that she’s your biological mother also play a role? Do you feel an obligation to her because of that?”
This time there was a pause before Malin answered. “Yes, sir. I am aware that it makes no sense, but . . . yes.”
No deception noted.
Drakon looked back at Malin, wondering what to do. The offense of fraudulently altering official records was a real one and a serious offense at that. But the reasons Malin had for such deception were understandable. If my mother were Morgan, that’s the least I would have done to hide the relationship.
Morgan was Malin’s mother. It explained some things. Certain similarities that had nagged at Drakon, only to be dismissed as coincidental.
How far had this particular apple named Malin fallen from the tree that was Morgan? Drakon had thought those two worked as checks on each other, but if Malin felt obligations toward Morgan, how far did those obligations go? He had thought he understood the dynamics between Malin and Morgan, but now Drakon wondered. I wasn’t aware of something this huge between them. What else don’t I know? Are there other things going on behind the screen of what I used to think was reality between those two?
Colonel Malin finally cleared his throat to break the lingering silence. “Sir, in respect to protecting you from Morgan, that is why I came to your office. There is something you need to know about her.”
Drakon pressed both hands against his face, letting the pressure soothe his racing mind. “I can’t wait to hear it, and I’m sure you’ve got solid evidence. At least I can be sure it’s not about her being someone else’s mother.”
The silence stretched out again until Drakon dropped his hands and glared at Malin. “What is it?”
“You already said it, General.” Malin gestured in the direction of Morgan’s quarters. “Colonel Roh Morgan has not yet had another child, but I have learned that she is pregnant.”
Oh, that’s great! Who the hell— Drakon suddenly felt very cold. “Morgan is pregnant.”
“Yes, sir.” Malin visibly braced himself before speaking again. “You are the father. That is why she seduced you on Taroa.”
The memories this time were of Morgan smiling the morning after on Taroa. “Do you mind telling me what you hoped to accomplish?” Drakon had demanded.
And Morgan had replied, “I think it was pretty obvious what I was trying to accomplish last night. And I succeeded.”
He hadn’t realized what she meant, hadn’t even considered such a possibility. Not from Morgan. “Why?” Drakon finally managed to say.
Malin shrugged, much of his old composure back. “We can safely assume Morgan was not motivated by tender emotions or the desire for motherhood. And for all her . . . uniqueness . . . Morgan can also be exceptionally desirable to men. She could have gotten pregnant by anyone if a child were what she wanted. But she wanted your child, General.”
Morgan, the mother of his child. The old beliefs said that when you did something that you knew was wrong, you sooner or later paid a heavy price. He had never believed the price could be this high.
Drakon looked at Malin with new understanding. “That’s why you were so angry with her, why you actually drew a weapon on her. It wasn’t just fear that she had learned your real relationship. You knew she’d gotten pregnant by me. The woman who instinctively rejects you has another child.”
“It’s not about me,” Malin denied. The sensors in his chair wavered in their assessments, finally rendering a measured judgment. Probably not deceptive.
Or self-deceptive, Drakon thought.
“She has a use for that child,” Malin said. “You know her. Morgan wanted that child, by you, for a reason. I do not know that reason. But—”
“No child of mine is going to be raised by Roh Morgan!” Drakon stood up, breathing heavily, trying to control an urge to dash to Morgan’s quarters and—
And what?
“General,” Malin said, the urgency in his tone penetrating Drakon’s tangled thoughts. “Morgan must not know about me. I do not know how she would react.”
Drakon found himself laughing harshly. “Morgan? I think it’s safe to say that she wouldn’t give you a teary-eyed embrace and coo endearments to her long-lost baby boy. Especially since you’re biologically almost a year older than her.” He paused, trying to think. “No. I won’t tell her. How do you know she won’t run a match on that DNA?”
Malin shrugged. “Probably for the same instinctive reason she hates me. Morgan will shy away from running that check because part of her realizes she won’t like the answer. But if she does, I have taps in all systems that would notify me of the check, and of who ran it. If I am warned of that . . . I will take steps to protect myself.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” Drakon said.
“Sir, do you really need to ask me that?” Malin shook his head. “I was tempted at times, but I could never bring myself to tell you.”
No deception noted.
What isn’t Malin telling me? What statements aren’t being made because they would show deception? Malin is an expert at beating interrogation systems. That’s why he’s one of my best interrogators. He knows all the tricks someone else might use.
Gwen warned me. Watch out for those beneath you. I thought I knew everything important about Morgan and Malin, and the biggest thing of all was a total surprise to me.
But I have to deal with Morgan now. “Colonel Malin, I need to know that I can trust you.”
“I will not betray your interests,” Malin said.
No deception noted.
But what exactly did that mean?
Drakon tossed Malin’s sidear
m back to him. “That’s all for now. I’m going to see Morgan. It’s probably best that you not accompany me.”
MORGAN, sitting at ease with one arm draped over the back of a chair, smiled as Drakon entered her quarters. “Is he dead?” she asked. “Was it quick or slow?”
Drakon came to a halt just out of reach of her. “Colonel Malin is alive. He offered an adequate explanation of the circumstances.”
Morgan froze for a moment, then her expression shifted as she studied Drakon. “You kept him alive for a reason.”
“Yes, I did.” Leave it at that and keep Morgan wondering. “Now there’s something you and I have to discuss.”
She feigned distress. “Did the little weasel accuse me of something?”
“At what point were you going to inform me that you were pregnant?”
It was rare to see Morgan off-balance, but it only lasted for a fraction of a second. Then she laughed as if genuinely amused. “He found out? The man has more talent than I thought. And, of course, he told you.”
“Answer my question, Colonel Morgan.”
“Is that any way to talk to the mother of your child?” she teased, then automatically jerked into a defensive posture as Drakon’s expression changed. “I would have told you at the right time.”
“How long did you think you could hide something like that?”
Morgan smiled. “A very long time.” She patted her flat stomach. “There’s nothing here to concern you. I had the embryo removed and implanted in a surrogate.”
Drakon hesitated, thrown off by her admission. “You think I can’t find that surrogate?”
“I think, General,” Morgan said with soft menace, “that certain safeguards are in place, and if anyone or anything gets too close to that surrogate, then she and the baby will die.” The smile came back. “I covered all of the contingencies. That’s what you taught me. If you arrest me, confine me, something might happen. Maybe not. You don’t know. Kill me, and something will happen. A horrible thing to have on your conscience.”
“Why did you want that child?” Drakon demanded.
Morgan looked steadily back at him, her expression admiring now. “You don’t get it? Really? But that was always one of your flaws. You don’t have many. You’re an amazing man and an amazing commander. But you never seem able to realize just who and what you are. You accept limits that you don’t need to live with.”
“But you know what I am?” Drakon asked.
“Oh, yes.” Morgan stood up, her eyes bright with emotion. “You showed me, you taught me. I know you, and I know what I am. Know the enemy and know yourself, and you’ll always win. That’s one of your lessons.”
“I didn’t originate that. It’s ancient advice.”
“But you understand it. And you made sure I understood it.” Morgan nodded, her smile triumphant. “You taught me many things. The wise commander makes the proper preparations and takes the proper actions to ensure that eventually her goal is achieved.”
“And what goal is that?” Drakon said in a voice gone quiet but dangerous.
“Our child, General Drakon. A child with your abilities and mine. Able to do anything she turns her mind to, and with the will to choose to do those things.” She shook her head, Morgan’s smile now that of someone sharing her victory with Drakon. “I owe you so much, and this is how I am repaying you, with a child who combines the best of us both.”
“I didn’t ask for that,” Drakon said. “What do you think this child is going to do? Take over this star system?”
Morgan laughed. “One star system? That’s only the start. She will be a leader who will build an empire on the ashes of the Syndicate Worlds. And perhaps an empire whose reach stretches much farther than that. Do you think even Black Jack can withstand our daughter after she has been brought up to fulfill her destiny?”
“Our . . . daughter.” Drakon knew he was looking at Morgan with disbelief, but he couldn’t seem to react, couldn’t do anything but listen.
“She’ll be unstoppable,” Morgan said in a whisper that filled the room. “Humanity will be united. Under her rule.”
The spell finally broke under the pressure of the visions of renewed wide-scale war that Morgan’s words evoked, a war worse and more widespread than even the century of the Syndicate/Alliance conflict. “I will have a say in the destiny of any child of mine,” Drakon insisted. Borderline stable? Damn the psychs and damn their useless evaluations. Damn Malin’s surrogate mother for arranging that psych waiver out of guilt. Morgan’s loyalty to me has gotten mixed up with delusions and dreams of grandeur to create a monster. With my unwitting help.
“Whatever say you have will be up to me,” Morgan said. “She has to be strong. I’ll be sure she is.”
“I’ll find her. No matter what you do.”
Morgan paused, her expression very serious now. “What I do? General, you should stop worrying about what I’ll do. Everything I do is for you. If you want to worry, don’t worry about me, or about the citizens playing at being free, or about the Syndicate launching another attack. Start worrying about what our daughter will do.”
Drakon stood looking at her, realizing just how helpless he was at the moment, one thought intruding louder than the rest. How the hell am I going to tell Gwen Iceni about this? And what is she going to do when she finds out?
Jack Campbell, Perilous Shield
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