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of the way she’d introduced this flaw , the next people discarded would be mostly Humans, but with just enough Gowachin to smack of retaliation.
    It’d been difficult carrying out her daily routine knowing what she’d set in motion. It was all very well to accept the fact that you were going into danger. When the actual moment arrived, it always had a different character. As the subtle and not so subtle evidence of success accumulated, she felt the crazy force of it rolling over her. Now was the time to think about her true power base, the troops who would obey her slightest hint, the tight communications linkage with the Rim, the carefully selected and trained lieutenants. Now was the time to think about McKie slipping so smoothly into her trap. She concealed elation behind a facade of anger. They’d expect her to be angry.
    The evidence began with a slowed response at her computer terminal. Someone was monitoring. Whoever had taken her bait wanted to be certain she was expendable. Wouldn’t want to eliminate someone and then discover that the eliminated someone was essential to the power structure. She’d made
damned sure to cut a wide swath into a region which could be made non-essential.
    The microsecond delay from the monitoring triggered a disconnect on her telltale circuit, removing the evidence of her preparations before anyone could find it. She didn’t think there’d be that much caution in anyone who’d accept this gambit, but unnecessary chances weren’t part of her plan. She removed the telltale timer and locked it away in one of the filing cabinets, there to be destroyed with the other evidence when the Elector’s toads came prying. The lonely blue flash would be confined by metal walls which would heat to a nice blood red before lapsing into slag and ashes.
    In the next stage, people averted their faces as they walked past her office doorway.
    Ahhh, the accuracy of the rumor-trail.
    The avoidance came so naturally: a glance at a companion on the other side, concentration on material in one’s hands, a brisk stride with gaze fixed on the corridor’s ends. Important business up there. No time to stop and chat with Keila Jedrik today.
    By the Veil of Heaven! They were so transparent!
    A Gowachin walked by examining the corridor’s blank opposite wall. She knew that Gowachin: one of the Elector’s spies. What would he tell Elector Broey today? Jedrik glared at the Gowachin in secret glee. By nightfall, Broey would know who’d picked up her gambit, but it was too small a bite to arouse his avarice. He’d merely log the information for possible future use. It was too early for him to suspect a sacrifice move.
    A Human male followed the Gowachin. He was intent on the adjustment of his neckline and that, of course, precluded a glance at a Senior Liaitor in her office. His name was Drayjo. Only yesterday, Drayjo had made courting gestures, bending toward her over this very desk to reveal the muscles under his light grey coveralls. What did it matter that Drayjo no longer saw her as a useful conquest. His face was a wooden door, closed, locked, hiding nothing.
    Avert your face, you clog!

    When the red light glowed on her terminal screen, it came as anticlimax. Confirmation that her gambit had been accepted by someone who would shortly regret it. Communication flowed across the screen:
    â€œOpp SD22240268523ZX.”
    Good old ZX!
    Bad news always developed its own coded idiom. She read what followed, anticipating every nuance:
    â€œThe Mandate of God having been consulted, the following supernumerary functions are hereby reduced. If your position screen carries your job title with an underline, you are included in the reduction.
    â€œSenior Liaitor.”
    Jedrik clenched her fists in simulated anger while she glared at the underlined words. It was done. Opp-Out, the good old Double-O. Through its pliable arm, the DemoPol, the Sacred Congregation