Ashton hadn't slept in two days.
The database couldn't be restored. Quinn's virus had been too thorough.
The Gamma uprising was spreading. More Betas joining them. Even some Alphas sympathizing.
His authority was eroding.
And his hands wouldn't stop shaking. The genetic instability his grandfather had passed down was worsening under stress.
"Director," Sato entered. "The Council is requesting your presence."
The Alpha Council. His bosses. The people he'd spent his life proving himself to.
They'd want answers. Solutions. Scapegoats.
He straightened his uniform, hid his trembling hands, and went to face judgment.
The Council chamber was cold. Seven Alpha elders stared at him with contempt.
"Director Ashton. You allowed this catastrophe."
"I'm containing it—"
"You're losing control! Gammas are occupying five levels! The social order is collapsing!"
"The database was sabotaged by my former agent—"
"Your agent who you failed to stop. Your agent who lived among terrorists for two years while reporting to you. Your failure, Director."
Ashton felt the trap closing. They were going to make him the scapegoat.
"Give me one week," he said. "I will crush this uprising and restore order."
"How?"
"By any means necessary. Full military response. No restraint. We end this now."
The Council deliberated. Then: "One week, Director. Succeed or face execution for incompetence."
Ashton left, hands shaking worse than ever.
One week to save his life.
One week to destroy the revolution.
He'd do whatever it took.
Even genocide.