Psy & Changelings 05 - Hostage to Pleasure

most of us were born. It has always been a possible tool in the Council’s arsenal. Three months ago, I was instructed to begin familiarizing myself with all data pertaining to Omega, as the dormant project would be reinitiated the instant the Protocol I was complete. The aim of the Omega Project—”
     
High above the earth, three seemingly long-dead satellites came to life, controlled by changelings and humans at a facility buried within the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Their sudden reemergence took everyone by surprise.
     
“—is to wipe out all spontaneous conception among the Psy.”

CHAPTER 15
    The hush that fell across the world was audible.
     
“The delivery system is meant to be a virus. The virus is intended to have a cure. That cure would be controlled by the Council. The result hardly needs to be stated—anyone who dared rebel would find their familial line discontinued.”
    Lights flickered around Ashaya, but she saw Dorian make a “keep going” gesture. It steadied her enough to continue. And why a cat who disliked her so openly should have that effect on her was not something she had the luxury to consider at this moment.
    “As for my proof—in terms of the inequalities in Protocol I, that proof consists of thousands of bytes of data, including copies of orders bearing the Council seal. Some of that information is being streamed along with this feed—information that makes it clear the implants were to be made to different specifications. You, the masses, were destined to be nothing more than insects in a hive.”
    Those who still had the ability attempted to grab the data packets.
     
“As for the aims of the Omega Project, you have only my word, the word of a scientist with an unblemished record. If successfully manufactured, the virus would be a weapon, one intended to be used against us by our own Council. Now consider its potential as a weapon in the hands of those who hate the Psy.”
    She paused to let that sink in.
    “Though Omega has never come close to completion, the scientists who worked on it over the years created a rich archive of data, data that may have included the genesis of a viral recipe. That data is now gone. I destroyed every byte of it in the weeks before I defected. The Omega Project is dead.” Ashaya told the most dangerous lie of all with every ounce of cold conviction she could gather. “I don’t ask that you believe every word I say. I don’t even ask that you consider me anything but a traitor to our race. All I ask is that you think for yourself . . . and question your Council.”
    She stepped away from the microphone and toward the soft darkness that surrounded the cameras, and—even if she couldn’t admit it anywhere but inside the walls of her mind—toward the dangerous safety of the man who stood there. Her bones felt oddly hollow, breakable. She wasn’t certain she wouldn’t fracture like so much glass.
    Suddenly, there was an arm around her shoulders, leading her toward a door, almost carrying her up a flight of steps and out onto a tiny balcony hardly big enough for two people. The piercing brightness of daylight stabbed into her irises with the ferocity of a thousand sharp knives.
    “That was one hell of a surprise.” He pressed her face to his chest, rubbing her back with a firm hand.
    She should have pulled away, but she didn’t. She knew herself, knew her weaknesses, knew that at this moment, she was incapable of standing without assistance. She also knew that she liked Dorian’s heat around her. “It had to be done.” For her people, for her son . . . and, despite everything, for Amara.
    Dorian pulled out his cell phone with his free hand. “Nothing. They must’ve done something to the cell transmitters.”
    “I apologize—I knew the backlash would be severe, but I didn’t think they’d be able to move so fast.” Breaking away from him, she leaned back, her hands closing around the cold iron of the railing. Over his shoulder, she could see only a thick wall of green foliage. To her left was a closed door that led down into a basement she didn’t yet have the strength to reenter—it had taken all her willpower the first time around. “They shut down power?”
    He nodded.
    “Hospitals,” she began.
    “Generators,” he told her. “I’m guessing most of the power and comm lines are going to be back up in the next few minutes anyway—Psy businesses would lose too much revenue otherwise, and without their support,