She stood directly in front of the Exarch’s chair, which Jonah had always found unnecessarily thronelike. The chair was concealed by a large, blank screen. Soon that screen would display the future of The Republic.

“How do we tell which ballots are preliminary and which are final?” asked Janella Lakewood.

Drummond cast her the iron stare that only Clan-born warriors could give. “We announce it. Before each ballot, we announce if it is preliminary or final. Naturally, all ballots before Paladin GioAvanti arrives will be preliminary.”

“Are we locked into voting for the same person each time? How do we change?” Lakewood asked.

If anything, Drummond’s glare became more withering. “You vote for whom you wish each ballot. If you wish to change your vote, change your vote. You may alter it as often as you choose.”

“I’m not sure I understand the purpose of the preliminary ballots, then.”

Anders Kessel, presenting himself with every inch of his noble bearing, stepped forward to answer. “Consider it a time for us all to get acquainted,” he said kindly. “We’ll get to know each other better, learn a little bit more about whom our companions believe is fit to be Exarch. That knowledge will help us move toward the final ballot.”

That was certainly Kessel’s plan, Jonah thought. He knew Kessel wanted as many preliminary ballots as possible. The more time he had, and the better he could gauge the opinions of the other Paladins, the better chance he had to bring others into an alliance to push the candidate of his choice into the position of Exarch. In this election, Jonah was fairly sure that Kessel’s candidate of choice was Kelson Sorenson.

“Is either of you making a motion?” Thaddeus Marik said.

“Yes,” Drummond said. “I move that we commence deliberation and preliminary balloting.”

“We cannot hold deliberations without the entire council!” Mandela insisted.

“Then I move we commence discussion and preliminary balloting,” Drummond said, unruffled—at least for the moment.

“Seconded,” Kessel said.

It was time. “Before we vote on the motion,” Jonah said, “I’d like to clear something up.”

Fifteen heads turned toward him. Jonah’s collected utterances in council meetings could fill a book approximately five pages long. Today, he’d probably double that by the first ballot.

“Yes?” Kessel asked.

“I just want to be sure we have time for statements before balloting.” Another murmur ran through the council. Not only was Jonah speaking now, he seemed to want to say more. By now, every Paladin knew what Jonah had been doing recently, and they all had guesses about what he planned to say. The anticipation in the room ratcheted up a notch.

“Of course,” Kessel said. “Now, unless there are any other clarifications or questions? Good. Votes in favor?” The room filled with ayes. “Opposed?” Silence.

Sixteen Paladins walked to their chairs and sat down in almost perfect unison.

“Then let’s begin,” Kessel said.

Warehouse District, Geneva

Terra, Prefecture X

20 December 3134

“Isee people in motion up ahead,” Santangelo reported to Heather GioAvanti over the command link. “They could be armed.”

“Or they could be civilians,” Heather replied. “Remember—the rules of engagement are property damage only, do not fire even if fired upon.”

“Roger, understand no return fire,” Santangelo said. “Can’t say that I like it, though.”

“We’re trying to prevent an insurrection here, not make one,” Heather told him. “Do we have enough demolition charges for all of the targets?”

“We’ll manage.”

“Right. Looks like thirty seconds to contact.”

The third warehouse of the morning—Koss’ revised list of possibilities had a total of ten—was coming up; a turn to the right then a straight run up to the front doors. The streets were narrower in this part of town, and the heavy feet of Heather’s ’Mech weren’t doing the pavement any good. More property damage—but she was sure the new Exarch, whoever he or she turned out to be, would make restitution after the election.

There were definite signs of movement around the target up ahead. Heather wondered exactly how much longer the “don’t shoot” policy was going to work.

She worked her pedals rapidly, spinning her ’Mech around the corner. The Spider was a speedy machine, not a bruiser like the Atlas or a hulking infighter like the Hatchetman, but a lightly armed sprinter designed to get in fast, scout and get out fast. In Heather’s opinion, these qualities made the Spider an excellent model for command and control, since a properly managed battle plan shouldn’t require the commander’s own muscle in order to be effective.

The Fox armored car, the Shandra scout vehicle, and the militia squad’s bikes were all faster than the Spider in the cramped confines of the city streets. Santangelo and Koss peeled out ahead, and Heather scored a laser marker on the front of the building to guide them. The militia troopers stopped in front of the building; Santangelo and Koss, in their vehicles, sped off to take blocking positions.

“Forward by overwatch!” Heather commanded.

The troops moved out. They were good for militia, disciplined and well trained. She made a mental note to look up their regular commander and see that he or she got properly commended when all this was done.

“Command, Shandra scout,” Koss said over the command circuit. “Got a problem on the east face. No way around to the rear. There’s a wall.”

“Back out, take the west side.” She checked her heads-up display. No wall showed on the large-scale map. It looked like Geneva Fire Police and Emergency hadn’t updated their databases recently. That was another thing to bring to somebody’s attention; later, after all of the dust had cleared.

Then the ’Mech’s exterior mikes picked up the sounds of small-arms fire, localized on her heads-up display to the east side of the building. It wasn’t the Sperry-Browning machine guns of the scout car she was hearing, either—it was the heavy crump of armor-piercing ordnance, shoulder-launched penetrators by the sound of them.

“Koss!” she snapped over the command circuit. “Report!”

“Taking fire from my flank,” the junior Knight reported. “Daisy-chain mines behind me. I’m in a sticky place. Request permission to return fire.”

“Negative,” Heather said. “Permission denied. I’m on my way to your location.” Then, over the ’Mech’s external speakers, to the troops, “Entry force, expedite.”

“Roger, understand expedite,” the corporal in charge of the militia squad responded. A moment later, the breaching charge put a hole in the warehouse wall. Heather saw the militia troops entering through the dust on her side-mount screen as she went past at a lope.

Taking advantage of the Spider’s speed, she was around the corner in a moment and saw Koss’ problem. The heavy but inaccurate fire coming from the Shandra’s right—small arms, mostly—wouldn’t interfere with the mission too much. What would interfere was a group of antitank mines, tied together to form a long chain. They’d been hidden in the trash by the side of the road while the Shandra passed by, then triggered when someone tugged the cord and pulled the line of mines across the Shandra’s only available path of retreat. Koss could abandon her vehicle to remove the mines by pulling the rope the other way—but even with her light battle armor, the intensity of the small-arms fire combined with the shoulder-mounted penetrators fired earlier would cut her to ribbons before she’d gone half a dozen steps.

Heather, though, wouldn’t have the same problem. Putting her trust in her armor, she lightly depressed her pedals while pushing the right joystick to extend the ’Mech’s long arm. The Spider squatted and its arm grabbed the end of the rope closest to the building. She pulled back on her stick, the mines came toward her and the way was clear.