CHAPTER 47

Things were in an uproar in Venice. The chairman made sure to tell the other members of the board to get the hell out of Dodge and keep their heads down. He liked control, but he was no traitor. As he made his own escape, ready to go under the knife and assume an identity he’d set up years ago, he considered the events of the past twenty-four hours.

Some would consider the entire thing a failure. He considered it a first strike. The Psy would never again underestimate the Human Alliance. As a bonus, if the Council stuck to its normal mode of operations, Alliance people would soon begin to die. And the chairman’s point would be made without him having to say a word—in the end, the Psy were killers, monsters, and they would crush anyone who dared rise against them.

As for the changelings, the chairman truly had no disagreement with them, but they couldn’t be allowed to keep getting in the Alliance’s way. Tonight they’d pay the price for their interference—let’s see how they liked being helpless for a change.

Raising his hand almost compulsively, he touched the chip at the top of his spine, currently covered by the stiff collar of his suit jacket. It was a modified version of the chips worn by the soldiers. Too bad Bowen and his team had had the beta versions—unlike the men who’d gone after Councilor Krychek. The chairman felt sadness, but he was resolved. This was a war. And those men had died in battle. They were heroes.

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