By Kathleen Sky Kelly Freas
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Additional info for Birthright
They always look so dead in those transport tanks—like carcasses set out for a dissecting lab. " She rubbed at her own helix. " Miranda walked over to the console, keeping a close watch for the fast-moving shuttles. Andros followed her in a hop, skip and trot motion that some of the androids on the shuttles found excruciatingly funny. There was almost a collision between two of the carts because their drivers were laughing at Andros rather than watching their view-screens for traffic directions.
He mulled at it for several seconds and then answered. "I was programmed to work in warehouse. " Miranda persisted. Andros wondered where this line of questioning was leading. An android of the Four matrix was programmed to do a job, like it or not. He would not even be capable of complaining about his working conditions. The Four had visibly brightened at Miranda's question. It was one he could answer without having to think about it. "I like flowers," he said. "I grow flowers in my quarters. " He beamed at Miranda as if a light had been turned on behind his eyes.
One: your supposed father was a master at genetic manipulation—he could have rigged you to match his tissues quite easily. Two: we have no tests from your mother to supply the missing chromosome factors. " Rodge pushed the changeview button again. "This is a bad piece of evidence, I'm afraid. It's the record of your removal from a womb membrane and subsequent examination by Dr. " "Womb membrane! But that's the way a Super is born. " "That's the problem," Rodge admitted. "In most cases where the mother does not carry the child herself, or if she doesn't want to be known as the mother of a child, she uses a host.