THE MAN LOOKED at his second-in-command, who was looking at the third-in-command, who was staring accusingly at the fourth-in-command.

“They… escaped?” The man’s voice was brusque.

The third-in-command kicked the fourth-in-command, who was kneeling on the floor, his forehead actually touching the cold metal.

“Yes, sir!” Everyone in the room knew the high cost of admitting such a thing. They also knew how much worse it would have been if he had lied about it. “I beg your forgiveness, sir! But they threw themselves over the edge of a cliff. Our trackers were programmed to follow them—no matter what. They kept attacking, sir. And they went over the cliff as well.”

“But they couldn’t fly, could they, Zhou Tso?”

“N-no, sir.” He cringed.

“Unlike our quarry, who can.”

“Yes, sir!”

Mr. Chu thought for a moment, though he already knew what he was going to do. The weakest link in the chain always had to be eliminated. The men and women he answered to would expect no less.

He again met the eyes of his second-in-command. The fourth had failed, which was a failure of the third, who had picked and trained him. So it was also the second’s failure, since she had picked and trained the third. Ultimately, this was Chu’s own failure, for he had picked and trained his second. That was how it would be viewed by the board. They all knew it.

Mr. Chu sighed, then motioned to his second-in-command. She gave a quick nod, then barked instructions at the two armed guards by the doorway. The fourth-in-command cringed and started to beg for mercy but was immediately silenced. The guards dragged him from the room.

Mr. Chu again sighed heavily. If only the girl had joined his force! It would have been glorious. Instead, she had turned into an increasingly intolerable problem. Fortunately, he was holding the final ace: her mother, Dr. Valencia Martinez.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Mr. Chu turned to look out the small, thick portholes in his office wall. He knew the fourth-in-command’s solution would take several minutes. “Now the… mutants are on a U.S. Navy submarine?” Mr. Chu verified, gazing out at the blackness.

“Yes.” There was a world of frustration in that one word.

Mr. Chu turned and met the eyes of his second-in-command. “Attacking a U.S. submarine, armed with nuclear warheads, would be suicide. Not only for us, but for those we represent. Even on a global level.”

The second-in-command was torn but was forced to admit that Mr. Chu was right. “Yes.” She let out the word.

“But, of course, if something were to happen to the bird people while they were not on the submarine…” Mr. Chu let his words trail off, and turned to stare out the portholes. At this depth, no light filtered down from the surface.

One of the armed guards dragged in Dr. Martinez. “Ah, Dr. Martinez,” Mr. Chu said pleasantly. “Thank you for joining me. I wanted you to see this. If the CSM does not curtail its activity, a similar fate awaits you.”

There was a slight vibration, and Mr. Chu’s gaze sharpened. Then—there it was—a rush of bubbles, barely visible, from a torpedo hatch being opened and closed. It was the fourth-in-command’s final solution. A dim, pale object in a blue suit shot out into the blackness and seemed to blossom, momentarily, in the dark water. In the next second, it was crushed and compressed into an unrecognizable blob.

At this depth, the water pressure was equivalent to several tons of weight per square inch.

The fourth-in-command had probably suffered for less than a second, not even having time to drown before every bone in his body was pulverized.

Once again, Mr. Chu and his second-in-command met eyes. “Well, outside the submarine, it’s a very dangerous environment.”

The second, not daring to display the shiver of distaste and fear she felt, nodded. “Yes,” she said as the pale blob floated away into the dark water. “Yes, it’s very dangerous out there.”