Atlanta

The factory sat forlorn on the side road.  No one had come here in
years- or at least it presented that appearance to outsiders.  Knee high grass
and weeds surrounded the buildings, with weeds forcing their way through
the asphalt to decorate the parking lots with sprays of green.  To all
outward appearances, the building was now seeing its first visitors in years.
But in actuality these visitors were present because of others- people
living in the building for the past two years- people the Volunteers were here to
capture.

Despite the deaths of twenty Resistance leaders and the capture of
several more in an ambush less than two months ago, the Resistance was nowhere
near destroyed.  A large part of that was due to the defiant nature of the
captured Resistance members.  They had all remained silent during
interrogation, and after a few days, they had all committed suicide
using carefully concealed drugs.

And so with no information available from interrogations, the
Volunteers had had to track down the bases using more conventional techniques-
techniques that often only yielded a possible address.  Bases like this were
common throughout the world.  In all likelihood, this wasn't even the only
base in Atlanta, but it was the only one they knew of.  Most major cities
seemed to have at least three.

Troops now surrounded the building preventing any escape from the
visible entrances.  Less than an hour earlier, the air had been filled with the
sound of gunfire, as the Volunteers tried to gain entrance to what was
in reality a well-hidden Resistance base.  Even now, with the sound of
gunfire absent for over thirty minutes, the Volunteers did not relax their
vigilance- partly due to the prisoners now under care in a carefully
cordoned area, and partly due to the presence of the head of the
Volunteers- Companion Protector Ronald Sandoval.

Sandoval looked around the factory interior in silent satisfaction.  It
had been a fierce battle with the Resistance, but they had won.  The
Resistance hadn't managed to destroy the building and hence any traces of their
identities. At previous Resistance bases, the buildings had been
destroyed after the Resistance had evacuated to prevent the Volunteers from
learning anything about their adversaries or their plans.  Fingerprinting had
led to more than one capture before the Resistance had wised up to the
Volunteers methods and started destroying their bases.  The ambush two months ago,
an ambush Agent Sandoval had not participated in due to an unexpected
hospital visit which resulted in his discovery of an unknown son, had only made
the Resistance more careful about protecting their identities.

This time the Volunteers had managed to find and defuse most of the
explosives before they could be used.  Part of the building had
collapsed, but the main portion was intact.  Volunteers with scanning equipment
were already moving through the building, looking for any biochemical or DNA
signatures which would lead to the identity of any of those who had evaded
capture.  Most had either escaped or been killed- they seemed to prefer
suicidal attacks to capture.  Despite that, the Volunteers had managed
to capture four Resistance members, all badly wounded, and at least two of
those had been unconscious when found.

There were now Volunteers scattered throughout the base, trying to get
DNA samples from blood or tissue left behind during the battle.  DNA tests
nowadays could be run on only a drop of blood.  And there was certainly
enough blood scattered everywhere.  A lot of it probably came from
those dead or captured, but many of the injured had escaped.  This would
enable them to find out who those people were, assuming, of course, that they
could find uncontaminated blood samples.  It was a very new technology, and
this was only the second time it had been used in the field, and field
conditions are a lot more complicated than laboratory conditions.

Sandoval noticed one of the Volunteers standing near what had been one
of the building's entrances start for an instant.  The Volunteer fiddled
nervously with the dials on the scanner, as if it wasn't working
correctly or as if he didn't believe his readings. Sandoval wondered idly if the
Volunteer had just discovered someone he knew was in the Resistance.
But then the Volunteer looked up at Sandoval and back down at his scanner
again as if to retest its findings.  After playing around with the scanner a
bit more, he finally, slowly, almost reluctantly, started making his way
towards Sandoval over the rubble scattered across the floor.  Sandoval watched
him move across the room, wondering what was causing the look of
apprehension on the Volunteer's face, realizing there was more going on than the
Volunteer finding out that a friend was a member of Resistance.  He wouldn't look
scared to approach Sandoval if he had discovered a friend of his was a
Resistance member- there had to be more than that.  Had the Volunteer
determined the identity of one of the Resistance spies Sandoval knew
were seeded among the Volunteers?

"Agent Sandoval?" the Volunteer said softly upon reaching him.  "Uhmm,
I found a DNA reading that didn't match any of the deceased."

And, Sandoval thought, why is this of particular interest to
me? That is what you're looking for, after all- the identities of those
Resistance members who escaped capture.  What makes this DNA reading
different from the others you're looking for?

"I ran it through the DNA database, but it didn't match anyone."

"Is that so much of a surprise, Corporal Milson, that you felt I had to
know it immediately?"  Sandoval inquired softly, the steel in his tone
thinly veiled.  "While virtually all U.S. citizens are registered, many
citizens in poorer countries are not."

"I know that, sir, so I tried to have the scanner analyze the DNA to
determine the racial type.  But the scanner kept showing an error."
Glancing up, the Volunteer clearly saw the impatience on Sandoval's
face, and hurried on with his explanation.  "I ran some more tests, sir, and,
well.... I really think you need to look at this yourself."  He
virtually pushed the scanner into Sandoval's hands.  Sandoval grabbed the scanner
to keep it from falling to the floor and looked at it in carefully veiled
confusion.  These scanners were far more complicated than those he had
used before, and he had no idea what data was being displayed, or even if
data was being displayed.

"Exactly what it this I'm supposed to be looking at?" he asked sharply.
These Volunteers can't deal with any thing on their own.  They're
supposed to be trained on this equipment, so why is he asking me about
what it shows? he thought in exasperation.

"Just a minute, here," the Volunteer replied as he pressed a button on
the device.  "If you look right here," he pointed, "this is the person's
DNA."

Sandoval sighed, and looked where the Volunteer was pointing, only to
stare in disbelief.  "How can that DNA have three strands?"  Well, maybe
this was something that should be brought to my attention.

"I don't know, sir, but I ran a DNA scan on the strands, trying to
determine identity," he pressed another button under Sandoval's disbelieving
stare. "Here's who the computer came up with as parents," he added
apprehensively. The lower part of the screen, which had shown some sort of complicated
data, went blank, and then a few lines of data replaced the previous
overabundance.

Sandoval tore his eyes from the impossible DNA to read the parents'
identities.

Father:  Ronald Sandoval
Mother:  Siobhan Beckett
Other:  Unknown

His mouth opened as he stared in disbelief at the information before
him. He had found his son.  After all his searching, he had finally found
some smidgen of information on his son.  Every previous lead had turned up
empty. That finally made sense looking at the data before him.  His son was in
the Resistance.  Or at least living with them.  How?  Why?  And the other
almost as important piece of information-his son was a hybrid.  What had the
Taelons done?  His mind raced in a million directions at once as he
tried to assimilate this new information.  There was too much to think about.
But first, he had to deal with Corporal Ramirez and all the other
Volunteers.

Pulling his mask firmly back into place, Sandoval looked at the
Volunteer.

"You are to speak of this to no one outside your unit!"  As much as
Sandoval wanted to, he couldn't order the Volunteer not to discuss the matter at
all. That would look far too suspicious, and he couldn't afford to draw
suspicion, not now that he finally had information on his son.
Restricting the information to this one unit made sense in more than one way.  They
were the only ones here, and they were one of his "special" squads, the ones
charged with activities the Taelons might not want to be associated
with. No one would find it suspicious that they had access to information
others didn't.

 "That project is classified top secret, and not known to many of the
Taelons let alone to humans." It must be if I don't know about
it. "I shouldn't even be telling you this," he added confidentially, "but
you've discovered it on your own.  This information is to stay within your
unit, understand?  Mark this DNA as classified on the system, so the other
Volunteers won't spend valuable time trying to figure out the
anomalies."

His mind going in circles, Sandoval suddenly wondered what his son was
doing on a Resistance base.  "You have a new assignment," he added.  "I want
you to find every location that has this DNA.  I want to know where in this
base this hybrid," he forced himself to twist the word angrily, "has been."
He forced himself to continue.  No one must question his willingness to
find every Resistance member.  "We can't allow such creatures free reign of
humanity."  He paused, and added suddenly, "How badly was ...it
injured?"

Please, he prayed to a god he didn't really believe existed,
please let it be a minor injury.

The Volunteer just looked at Sandoval in puzzlement.

"How much blood did you find?" Sandoval asked in exasperation.
Can't these Volunteers put anything together by themselves?

"Oh," the Volunteer replied with a dawning look of understanding.
"There were only a few drops of blood.  It looks like he...it was standing
near that concrete pillar that got hit in the first wave of the attack-
probably just got nicked by flying debris."

"  Very well.  You have your instructions.  Get to work."

"Yes, sir!"  And with that the Corporal moved away from Sandoval
carefully bent over his scanner once more.

As Sandoval watched him leave, he realized he had been foolish in what
he had told the Volunteer.  Now that he had a chance to think, he realized
he should have told the Volunteer that the data couldn't be true, that it
was all a ploy by the Resistance.  Milson had been confused enough, he
would have bought it, but he hadn't been thinking clearly enough to realize
that he should have acted as though his first tangible proof of his son was
a lie.  I should have been thinking more clearly, he reprimanded
himself.  I just hope those lies don't come back to haunt me.

Sandoval remained in place, his mind a mass of disturbing and
conflicting thoughts.  A hybrid.  My son is a hybrid.  Those damn Taelons,
experimenting with my DNA without my knowledge.  But if they created my
son, how did he make it down here?  They'd never have let him go. He
mulled this thought over for a few minutes.  He didn't remember hearing of any
projects, as the Taelons called their experimental subjects, escaping.

Of course.  The Resistance.  They must have rescued him in one of
their raids. But that idea didn't seem quite right.  But I don't
remember any raids that I didn't investigate.  I would have noticed evidence of
children.  I know I would have.  So where did he come from?  Did the
Taelons hide the children even from me, and why?  Did they suspect my
motivational imperative wasn't as strong as they thought?  Considering everything
I've done for them, why did the Taelons feel the need to hide this from
me? He paused. Or did they?  But where else could a hybrid have come
from? The Resistance certainly wouldn't make one.  Neither would any of the
less militant anti-Taelon groups.  And perhaps more importantly, why use my
DNA? I can understand the Taelons using it- simpler to use samples already
available, but I can't see any human group that experimented with
hybridization using my DNA, and besides, where would they get it?  It's
not exactly for sale on the street corner.  But I'm not going to get
anywhere with that line of questioning until I can get back to the mothership
and go through their records.

I have to decide what I'm going to do.  How do I feel about the fact
that my only child is a hybrid? He thought about that long and hard.
DeeDee and I tried for so long to have a child.  That was one of the reasons I
joined to Taelons, in the hope that some of their technology could help
us have a child.  The MI changed all that.  I still want a child though.
I just didn't think I'd ever have the time.  Finding a woman I love and
having a child takes time, time I don't have.  This CVI won't last forever.
The last one only lasted three years.  It's already been two.  I keep
expecting this one to die, particularly since it's already broken down somewhat
with the destruction of the MI.  And even if I found a woman who would love
me, I'd probably have just enough time to see the child born before I die.
I don't know if I'd want to bring a child into the world as it is now,
particularly considering it would never know its father.

But a hybrid, they grow much faster than normal children.  He'd
probably look like he's at least 5, since he was big enough to donate two pints
of blood.  I'd get to know my son as more than just an infant.  I could
actually be a father to him, a father he'd remember.  That thought
was very appealing.  He'd be able to keep my memory alive after my
death. He paused. I think having a hybrid for a child might be for the
best. At least now, he'll get to know me, and he'll remember me after I'm
gone. He is my son, despite whatever the facts of his birth.

How old is he?  And how old does he look? He laughed to himself.
Those two have nothing in common, not when dealing with hybrids.
He knew other Taelon hybrids had grown at accelerated rates.  He could
look any age.

Oh, my God.  I could have shot at him and not even known it.  He could
even be among the dead!  Wait a minute, calm down Ron.  Think!  The
Volunteers already took DNA samples from the dead and captured so they could
filter the DNA here to determine who escaped.  Therefore, my son can't be any of
the bodies we've already found or among the prisoners.  I could still have
shot at him, though.  I know I hit a couple of people.  But at least I know
he isn't dead.  And we didn't find much blood.  He's got to be all right.
That's something.  How do I find him, though?

As Sandoval was contemplating the difficulty of finding one person in
the Resistance in a group of thousands, all hidden with great ingenuity, he
noticed the approach of Volunteer Milson. He must have found
something. Maybe this will give me more information on who my son is, or how to
find him.