Page 45 of Omega's Fire

“How many omegas did you force-match?”

We’re almost through when Meg Deveraux appears directly in my path, megaphone lowered, eyes blazing with righteous fury.

“Where’s Leo?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Fury flickers across her face. “Stay away from him.”

An officer moves to separate us, but not before she adds, low enough that only I can hear: “He doesn’t need you.”

Then she’s gone, pulled back into the crowd, and we’re through the doors into the relative quiet of the building. The sound of the protests is muffled now, reduced to a persistent background rumble.

“Your lecture hall is on the second floor,” my escort informs me. “We’ll bring your students in groups.”

I nod my thanks and follow him up the stairs, aware of the absurdity of the situation. All this security, all this furor, for a basic lecture on alpha-omega chemical markers. The protesters probably imagine I’m teaching some propaganda course on forced matching, not the dry biochemistry that actually forms today’s lesson plan.

The lecture hall is cavernous, designed to hold three hundred students. Only about forty trickle in over the next fifteen minutes, escorted by police in small groups. Their expressions range from annoyed to excited by the drama. A few look genuinely apprehensive.

“Quite the welcome committee,” I say once they’re settled, aiming for a light tone. A few nervous laughs ripple through the room. “I’m Dr. Nash Thorndike, and this is Omega Biology 301: Designation Biology and Behavioral Impact.”

Through the walls, we can still hear the rhythmic chanting outside. I acknowledge it directly: “As you’ve probably gathered, my presence on campus is somewhat controversial. If any of you would prefer to drop this course, I completely understand. No judgment, no consequences.”

No one moves. A few students actually lean forward, more engaged.

“Right then.” I open my presentation slides. “Let’s begin with the basic biochemistry of designation markers.”

For the next fifty minutes, I focus entirely on the science. Just data and established research findings. The persistent soundtrack of protests fades into white noise as I settle into the familiar rhythm of teaching.

As the lecture ends and students begin gathering their things, I offer, “Next time, we’ll address how these biochemical markers influence behavioral patterns. Readings are posted on the course site.”

The protests have thinned somewhat when my escort returns to take me back to my office. A few die-hard protesters shout slogans, but the earlier energy has dissipated.

“Thank you,” I tell the officers as we reach my building. “I appreciate your assistance.”

“Just doing our job, sir.” He nods respectfully. “We’ll have personnel monitoring your lectures for the next few weeks.”

I want to protest that it’s unnecessary, but after today’s display, the argument feels hollow. Instead, I thank him again and retreat to my office, closing the door with a sigh of relief.

I’ve barely sat down when a sharp knock interrupts the blessed silence. Before I can respond, the door swings open to reveal the Dean, his expression severe. Dean Richard Jones is a career academic, career meaning he has worked his way up the layers of university management until he reached the top and can boss around everyone underneath him. He’s a small, squat little man with hair a little too long for the way the hair on his forehead is rapidly receding.

I’ve met Jones three times and disliked all of them. If it wasn’t for Leo’s presence at this university, Jones would have been one of the factors in the ‘against’ column of taking the job.

“Nash,” Jones doesn’t wait for an invitation before entering and closing the door behind him. “Quite the spectacle today.”

I rise automatically, extending my hand. “Dean. I apologize for the disruption.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not unexpected.” He ignores my hand, moving instead to examine the sparse bookshelves along the wall. He turns back to me. “We’ll be implementing new university policies from six this evening. I’ve had a copy sent to your email. We can’t have that kind of disruption on campus.”

I know universities. With the exception of my time at the Bureau, I have spent years at them. Wheels turn slow in the admin buildings. Any new policy would need to be proposed, written and then go through about a dozen committees and iterations before it could be made official.

They didn’t invite me here to lecture. They invited me to be their bait.

I’m used to controversy. Every man and his damn dog has an opinion on Nash Thorndike, but that doesn’t mean I court it.

I don’t stir up controversy deliberately. Controversy muddiesthe water of the message I am trying to get across. I’d bet a hundred dollars Jones is the one who got the message out that I was lecturing today.

“I’m not interested in being used as a pawn, Jones. I--”

“I don’t particularly care what you think on this matter, Nash.” His interruption is smooth. “Your visiting position is at my discretion and our contract includes a standard clause about ‘supporting university policies.’”

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