Hybrid by K. T. Hanna Page B

up. “Please let me finish. We can’t afford for Bastian to reveal himself yet, so he has to go along with this. The plan is to program the Damascus in stasis with their directive before triggering them again. They’ll be programmed to eliminate the Exiled and retrieve the pure source.”
    “Well, that’s terrifying.” Kayde’s voice is soft, and she pushes her chair back, pulling her lab coat around her. There’s no quip from her, no cocky grin, just a furrow to her brow while her free hand tugs at her disarrayed blonde hair.
    “Oh no,” Sai says as the realization hits her. “The Hounds...”
    Dom nods. “When the Damascus are reactivated, the Hounds will fall back in line with their original coding. Bastian believes he can give us days, perhaps a week at most. As soon as we have a course of action sorted out for the Exiled, I’ll head back to Central to see if I can prevent anything from the inside.”
    Sai scans the room. No one speaks; they’re all far too busy deliberately not making eye contact. Kayde and Jeffries are as pale as the vampires of myth. Iria’s eyes brim with tears, and she gulps.
    Finally, Mason stands. “Does Bastian have any solutions?”
    “Nothing. It happened so fast.” Dom shrugs and angles his head from side to side in an eerie mimicry of cracking his neck.
    Mason takes an audible breath. The first words shake as he speaks, but he gains confidence the more he puts out there. “There’s little we can do. All we can do is arm ourselves with the knowledge we have from previous encounters and plan accordingly.”
    Mathur remains seated. His wrinkles suddenly appear heavy, like his age is weighing on him. “Direct psionic attacks will have little to no effect on them. The few human elements in the Damascus—they are long gone. So much that calling them part of the Domino Project is insulting. They have no compunctions, no consciences.”
    “Is there any hope of fighting their physical strength?” Mason pinches the bridge of his nose, aging before Sai’s eyes.
    “Perhaps with reinforced psionic attacks, but I cannot be sure.” Even Mathur’s voice is full of dejection, and he turns to face Dom. “I need your aid. Your siblings require that we adjust certain things. I will need your help, or we will have no chance.”
    Dom’s eyes flicker through a myriad of colors before settling on a paler than usual silver. He inclines his head toward his maker. “Done.”
    “Then we have to get to it!” Mathur claps his hands together, the energy in his words belying the apathy in his eyes. “Jeffries, designate another Mobile as a hospital—maybe Gamma.”
    “Gamma?” Mason raises an eyebrow.
    Mathur turns to him, his face somber. “I am sick of numbers. Iria, I need you to brief James and work with Sai to develop a type of martial psionics. Kayde, I need something to melt the crap out of those contraptions. Put Ebony on hold until you have something that will help us stay alive long enough to finish its development.”
    Kayde rolls her eyes, but there’s a determined upturn to her lips when she answers. “Aye, sir.”
    As the others begin to filter out, Mathur turns to Sai. “I need you to get back up to speed. Not in three weeks. We need you now.” He pauses and squeezes her forearm in what is probably supposed to be reassurance. “There is no more time to feel sorry for yourself.”

    Sai sits in the meeting room once everyone leaves and studies her hands. She can stand, walk, sit, crouch, squat, and lie down. It’s more than most people who’ve lost their legs. But right now it’s not enough. She leans forward and rests her head on her hands.
    “I need you to get back up to speed. Not in three weeks. We need you now.”
    “There is no more time to feel sorry for yourself.”
    “I’ll get right on that, boss,” she mutters under her breath and squeezes her eyes shut. The thing is, she’s not entirely sure how to get right on that or stop feeling that sense of