Building the Collateral - 83 - Early Access (Patreon)

I blankly stared at the report, not at all comprehending the string of letters that apparently constituted a portion of my genetic sequences. Nor could I parse the one which had been taken from the refugee girl, seeing again just a line of letters that made no sense. I wasn’t a doctor, there was no way I could make sense of this very technical report.

However, that number at the end was something that I could understand. Especially when it came with helpful label. ‘Percentage of shared sequence patterns between analyzed samples.’

It was an alarmingly high figure, enough to actually render me speechless for a good while. Out of everything I had been expecting, I could definitively say I never expected for there to be somebody of House Moores present on Port Barbarus. Nor did I expect her to be… that close to me.

“I, er… hm. Is there a chance that there could be an instrument error?” I questioned the attending medical officer, a captain who seemed to entertain my inquiry before shaking their head.

“No, sir. Just to be sure, we did re-calibrate it multiple times.”

“I also replaced the entire thing anyway, and it yielded the same result again,” Nasir added to her subordinate’s report. “We used it on other cases and found it to be accurate still. If you would like Commander, I could take an extra step and print out a fresh piece to try again.”

“I don’t believe that’s necessary. Especially since our medical corp would have at least passing familiarity with genetic observation.”

We did have clone soldiers after all, and while we didn’t have any of the specialists who could help setup new generations, those experts we did have always kept a careful eye on sequence stability. Flash cloning combined with accelerated development could yield very premature mutations as the years passed, so it was important to catch and treat those errors as soon as possible before they matured into chronic issues.

Veteran soldiers were a valued commodity, even in the Half Committee.

Still, accepting the legitimacy of the investigation was one thing. Coming to terms with it and the implications of such was… definitely something else. Especially as I could feel the heated glare coming from some other figures in my office. “So,” Erica asked casually, with all the warmth of a dagger set aflame, “Is Morgan your bastard or something?”

“It wouldn’t be out of question, as the Commander did have prior… consorts,” Veronica noted, driving the knife even deeper. “It is entirely possible he sired a child from such relations.”

As much as I wanted to deny, it was sort of true. ‘I’ did have a few flings here and there, nothing which ever lasted longer than a single night. But I also have to clarify, it wasn’t anything that could even be considered a relationship. They’d been simple encounters with no strings attached, every precaution taken to make sure that there wouldn’t be any lingering consequences for either side. Things where one would drop their mask for a night, then simply don it back the next morning with little comment.

That being said, there was another angle of defense here. “It can’t be mine,” I insisted, tapping at the circled number. “While I won’t deny the final sum as being significant, it also isn’t absolute.”

“If I may?” chimed in the attending medical expert, clearing their throat. “I’m might not be a geneticist, but I can say from experience that it seems to be a separation of about two generations or so.”

“So a granddaughter!”

“Accounting for possible time dilation via nearlight travel, it is theoretically plausible-”

“No, it isn’t.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and ran some quick math too. “If she was my granddaughter, then it would imply I sired her parent in my academy years. Which would be impossible for me to not notice then.”

Erica’s fire began to flicker and peter now as she considered the alternatives. “So… no, it wouldn’t make sense, she’s way too younger to be like your grandmother.”

“Thank you for coming to your senses,” I dryly quipped before sighing. “But yes, I’m fairly sure she isn’t my grandmother. Which means that instead of vertical lineages, it could be a difference measured horizontally.”

“Cousins?”

“That would be my best guess,” Nasir recommended on behalf of their subordinate. “And it would also make a lot more sense. You mentioned meeting relatives the other day, didn’t you?”

“Yes, though Idris would actually yield a likely lower number of matches. There’s quite a degree of separation between our bloodlines.” Which thankfully meant that this girl wasn’t like a kidnapped scion of a Karrakis noble, so I didn’t have to worry about them breathing down my neck. Yet, at least. “The fact she’s definitely of the main line to House Moores. Which makes things… awkward.”

The Harrison Armory mercenary perked up, recalling something. She spoke while Lieutenant Nasir and the medical expert excused themselves, needing to get back to work already. “Right, aren’t you somewhat estranged with your folks?”

“Disinherited,” I clarified with a hum. “Something that happened as soon as I graduated the naval academy.”

“Harsh.”

I shrugged and offered only what I knew. “They still arranged for Veronica to be assigned to me in time. I like to think that it just meant I was freed from the burden of worrying about our house’s future, removing the need to fret about being a potential heir.” It did make me wonder, that if they foresaw the collapse of the Half Committee coming sooner or later and thought it best to scatter about, raising the chances of at least one part of the family surviving the mess. “It’s possible she’s from another part of the family that I was never made aware of, especially if she was born after my departure. Didn’t you say she was rather young?”

“That she does, and her name’s Morgan if it means anything. Doesn’t that report include a picture?”

It did, a few pages in. As I flipped to it, I mulled over the name and found something unexpected: faint familiarity. An echo of something akin to recognition, but it wasn’t something I was so sure about. When I finally laid my eyes on the photo taken of her, the quite peculiar sensation doubled.

Her face, it didn’t really match mine and her hair was definitely nowhere the same shade as my own. I had no idea where Erica or Veronica had gotten the idea she was my child. Yet something did feel quite almost familiar, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

It was Erica who realized something first when she reached over and took the page from my hands. “Hey, look at me all serious-like. Like you’re in the middle of a battle or something.”

I blinked, then bemusedly complied as she hummed. After a few moments, she chortled and gestured for Veronica to drift over. “Yep, it’s a match.”

“There is indeed quite a striking resemblance, Commander,” the NHP commented, amusement tinging her synthetic voice. “Putting it more simply, you both appear to have very similar expressions when intently focused on a matter.”

That was something, I guess. But that wasn’t what I was thinking of. I took back the picture and studied it, thinking. The hair, the face, I think...I think I might have seen it before. But where?

Absently, I reached out to sip at a cup of coffee resting on my desk. As the bittersweet taste flooded my mouth, my eyes widened. The memory surfaced.

A smiling woman that promised a young boy to share a private indulgence over drink.

“Veronica.” My aide immediately straightened, all mirth vanishing as she heard my request. “Look up my personal family files. Look at my parents’ generation, focus on my father’s side of the family. I think I know who Morgan’s mother might be.”

“Oh, your aunt perhaps?” Erica mused as the NHP’s eyes glowed in concentration. “That would make sense. You told me about her before I think.”

“I had, but outside that one incident, she’s a mostly blank spot in my memory,” I muttered, rubbing my chin in thought. “She never really frequented our estates, probably occupied elsewhere. Yet I never learned about whatever she did. If she served with the Half Committee, then I’m surprised our paths never crossed then…”

“She was not a member of the armed forces for the Half Committee,” Veronica called out, hand reaching out and plucking out a file from seeming nothing. “Not in a typical manner at least. Rather, her record seems to indicate a megacorporation affiliation. Smith-Shimano Corporation auxilla, to be exact.”

That… hmm. I did know that the Half Committee had to have gotten their cloning technology from somewhere, but I’d admittedly mostly just assumed it was part of whatever package Harrison Armory distributed to distant SecComm successors. But if you were to put the SSC in the list and asked me which one of them probably handled biological manipulation, I’d honestly pick the known geneticists every single time.

Then the phrasing caught my attention, and so did the mech pilot in the room. “Auxilla?” she echoed, eyebrow raising. “That’s not an egghead job, is it?”

“No, her more specific role was- ERROR. ACCESS DENIED.” Veronica blinked, looking just as surprised as the mortals were at her sudden outburst. “Commander, I apologize. I appear to have insufficient clearance to access any further than surface data. Which is a most… curious exception, as I had presumed any such data security gone with the fall of the Half Committee.”

Well, that wasn’t ominous at all. If she couldn’t access that specific tidbit of information from a fallen faction, then that meant that somebody had already beaten us to it and locked back up that archive for whatever reason. Maybe I could have a certain acquaintance take a peek instead, but let’s save that for later. For now, let’s just settle for the surface details. “That’s fine, pull up whatever you can.”

She nodded, then flipped to reveal the simple page report she had retrieved. The digital parchment grew in size until it was large enough for both Erica and I to read through, our brows furrowing at just how much redaction there was regarding the aunt I knew in passing.

The only thing that was sure was her appearance, which was pretty close to Morgan, and her name… oh, for goodness sake.

“’Morrigan Mores,’” Erica quoted dryly aloud, looking at me slowly. “That’s pretty on the nose, isn’t it?”

“You’re telling me,” I grunted, shaking my head. “Did she really name her daughter after herself? I’ll have to ask about that.”

“About that sir, there is an issue.” Veronica frowned and pointed out something at the very bottom of the documentation. “Look.”

A sigh escaped my lips at the end of the heavily blacked out biography. There was a single, definitive word that could explain much, and unfortunately also robbed the chance of finding any further answers from us.

[STATUS: DECEASED]

“Talk about some bad luck,” Erica mumbled, shaking her head. “Judging the kid’s age and how she doesn’t recall anything outside being a lab rat, the woman probably only had a few years with her. Then she kicked it.”

It sounded like she had experience with those sort of encounters before. It wasn’t hard to imagine that in the service of the Colonial Legion, perhaps such families could form in spite of all service they still owed to Harrison Armory. But when such vows were only ‘till death do us part,’ then they all had to end sooner or later. Some unlucky few, maybe even that quickly depending on if their unit deployed somewhere dangerous.

Shaking those thoughts away, I refocused on the matter and tapped my fingers against my desk in thought. “So she has nowhere to go,” I humorlessly confirmed and received a nod from the mercenary in turn. “You mentioned you talked with her before the meeting?”

“Yeah, and Veronica was there too. Wanted to get another read of the kid before we chatted to you about her,” she listed out, reaching and pulling out a cigarette. With a quick flick, the lighter ignited and the flame burned. “She’s got guts, handled herself on a battlefield without losing her head. More than what I’ve seen from fresh faced recruits at times. It sets me on edge, because no way a kid her age should be able to handle that without breaking into a mess.

“I told you that she was apparently some test subject, but that’s the most I got out of her. The rest, you’ll need to pry from the girl herself if you want to know.” Erica exhaled a plume of smoke, filling my office with her familiar acrid cloud. “So then, Mister Premier-General.

“What are you going to do with your cousin who might or might not be an indoctrinated child soldier?”

Morgan was relieved when instead of being taken away, the less-than-amused mech pilot had waved her away and told her to just stay put in the refugee camp for the time being. It didn’t sound like she was going to be suddenly returned to her prior setting, but it also didn’t feel like she could expect to just stay with them going on. Whether or not it was for better or worse, she couldn’t say yet.

But still, she spent every moment with Ichigo as if it could be their last for a while. “I don’t know what to expect,” Morgan hesitantly told her former host. “It’s all so… uncertain.”

“Yeah, but talk about one heck of a backstory.” The mechanic chuckled and shook her head. “I was joking when I said you were a princess, but you’ve actually got that blue blood in you, don’t ya?”

“I guess, if House Moores counts as nobility. I’m not sure if they’re actually like kings or princes though.”

“I haven’t the slightest lick either, but it still sounds like you’re heading towards the big leagues.” There was a growing forlorn expression on Ichigo’s face, like she was coming to terms with what was happening. “Meanwhile, I didn’t get so lucky when they tested me. Just confirmed that I really don’t have anyplace to go, really.”

“And you don’t even have your loft anymore. Or a place to work.”

“Well, maybe I’ll take up the director’s offer to go with Harrison Armory,” she hinted, fingers twitching as if already wrapping around heavy machinery. “It doesn’t sound too bad. Sure, might end up having to work for the Harrisons for a bit, but you know what? Give me a chance to work on a Barbarossa, and I’ll call it even.”

Morgan briefly hesitated, then risked a joke. “That’s sort of disappointing.”

“Eh?”

“You should get familiar with Smith-Shimano machines instead. Then I can hire you as like my personal engineer.”

There was a moment of silence, then both girls erupted into honest laughter at the idea. “Yeah, fuck it. That sounds way better,” Ichigo declared with a grin. “Guess I’ll have to see if the SSC’s about then. No offense to Miss Erica, but wherever my friend’s riding, I gotta learn how to handle.”

“Or maybe I should learn things from a variety of makes, so you can have fun with all different sorts!” Morgan suggested earnestly before pausing. “Hang on. ‘Friend?’”

“That’d be pretty nice. And yeah, course I’m calling you a friend,” Ichigo declared, almost confused that it was even being questioned. “I think getting shot at together speeds up the process a bit, but hey. It counts.”

Morgan felt a flutter coming from in her chest, a sense of… belonging. Like for the first time since leaving that terrible place, enduring all sorts of troubles, she finally got to experience something that she’d only read about in books before. It was a brief feeling of elation, only to be suddenly chased away by the bitter reminder that it wouldn’t last.

Things were changing, and she couldn’t stop the winds from blowing. As much as she wished to.

That moment came soon indeed, as the tent flaps parted to reveal the Harrison Armory pilot peering in. Miss Erica glanced about, noticing it was just the two girls, then grunted. “Ichigo. Going to have to ask you to leave again-”

“Actually, she can stay if she’d like,” a new but familiar voice interjected, one that had Morgan’s heart leap into her throat. “I daresay she deserves to hear at least some words of gratitude from me, having cared for my cousin all this while.”

The mercenary sighed, then shrugged. “Sure, whatever you want. I’ll be out here, telling everybody else to mind their own business.”

She withdrew and now it was a man ducking in, entering the tent with a slight bend. He drew himself back to his full height right afterwards and Morgan couldn’t help but feel small. Not just physically, but spiritually as well, as he exuded some sort of commanding aura to even just a lax posture.

Almost like her ‘father.’

Yet it was different. Whereas that scientist caretaker had been quietly demanding with a smile that never seemed to reach his eyes, the naval officer seemed to be more intense in how he looked at everything. There was an almost worn slump to shoulders, as if always carrying a weight to it, but the eyes- they were anything but tired or beaten down.

They met her own orbs and she saw in them many things. Focus. Analysis. And buried beneath it all…

Sympathy.

“Morgan,” he began with, the name almost foreign to his tongue. “How are you doing? Are you alright?”

She had been prepared for a demand. The question, it set her back. “I’m… I’m okay,” she settled upon saying, glancing at her friend. “Only because Ichigo helped me through a lot.”

“Indeed, and it’s clear that I owe you a great many things for it.” He was actually talking to the shocked mechanic, not removing his attention from Morgan at all- but simply expanding it to encompass the other girl as well. “Thank you for protecting my cousin. Even if I wasn’t aware of the relationship until today too, I am very glad she is safe- and so are you.”

“Well, um,” Ichigo said, stumbling her own words now. “It, er wasn’t such a big deal. Just fed and housed her, you know?”

“Regardless, I intend to extend to you whatever favors my office can afford. Including expedited participation in our local state ward program if you are interested in becoming part of the Cavia Committee.” Now he was looking back at Morgan. “I would also believe your circumstances would deserve a position in said program as well, but I will confess; I wish to make a more personal offer.”

Her mouth felt very dry. “Y-yes?”

His lips finally twitched, forming a tired but warm smile. One that immediately felt more authentic than an hour of praise from her ‘father.’ “You’re my cousin, though I daresay the difference in our age would be more akin to like uncle and niece. So like any good uncle, if you’ve no place to go, I’d like to take you in. That is, if you’d like to,” he immediately added, as if fearing overbearing. “If not, I can try to make arrangements elsewhere. You can join the state ward program too, or… hmm. Maybe I can see about asking about, see if ThirdComm would take you in-”

“No,” she answered immediately, shaking her head. “No. I… they don’t want me. I’ve-” Morgan cut-off mid-sentence, choking briefly as she looked down at her hands. “I’ve killed them.”

The man blinked, then frowned. “What do you mean?”

She hesitantly told about how she ‘broke free,’ about suddenly awakening in the middle of some fight- and unable to stop the destruction. It was something that she might have broken down sobbing halfway through, had Ichigo not reached out to squeeze her hand. That feeling, Morgan drew strength from to finish her story and she looked up, expecting to see like revulsion or fear from her cousin.

Instead, he looked thoughtful. A little perplexed, but not at all bothered by her confession. “Hmm. So it would appear that you too would probably be on a wanted list.” He glanced back and gave a weak grin. “So am I, unfortunately. It appears we’re on the run together.

“Which means it would definitely be safer if we stuck together as well.” The man reached his hand out and placed it on her shoulder, a gentle but firm grip that Morgan could shrug off- but didn’t. “But it’s your choice, and I will respect it. If you want out, I will try my best to see you to safety elsewhere. Yet I will say, I think your odds would be better here.”

A question escaped Morgan’s lips. “Why?”

He hummed. “Well, I’ll be here. And if ThirdComm wants to get to you, they’d have to deal with me first,” he told casually, as if tangling against humanity’s greater interstellar government was simply another duty to add to his list. “Not that I think they will anytime soon, at least. You’ll have time to grow and become whoever you want to be.”

It was almost perfect. Almost everything she wanted- a chance to finally breath and live among the stars. And… and if he kept his word, it sounded like Ichigo didn’t have to go anywhere too! They could see each other on the regular! It was almost all too good to be true.

So she hesitated, afraid that the moment she agreed, it would all fall apart. The smoke and mirrors would dissolve, revealing she was back in those stark white, sterile test rooms again-

A sharp nudge to her side made Morgan blink and she saw Ichigo rolling her eyes. The unspoken message was clear: “Stop hesitating, idiot. Punch the throttle, and get flying.”

The girl’s hand curled, then balled into a fist as her mind was made. “Premier-General. I’d like to stay with you.”

“Just call me ‘uncle’ if you wish. Or whatever other title is most comfortable for you to use.”