190 C: Consort

Brendan felt oddly comfortable standing in the control room at the head of what was basically a small combat fleet. It was just that he wished that they were on the way to a simple fight. He could have looked forward to that.

The part of his mind that usually resided quietly in the background tried to throw up alarm flags. It shouted with the certainty that there was no such thing as a simple fight. He told it to shut up, even as his gaze checked on the activities of every other officer within the compartment.

Once you knew what you were looking for, a genetically altered imposter was actually quite easy to detect, as long as you had access to a person's medical history.

Despite that, it had been more than a little tricky to set up. Medical units were trustworthy for a reason. Their production, development, and regulation had been kept separated from the rest of the corporate system ever since the System's founding.