Jonah had thought plenty about McKinnon, and on another day he might have given serious consideration to supporting him.

Not today, though. Not after knowing what Mallowes and his compatriots were up to. He wanted someone who could keep anyone tied to the Founder’s Movement at an arm’s distance, and that someone was not David McKinnon. Though he was seen as more steadfast and trustworthy than Sorenson, the two men’s politics were not all that different.

GioAvanti, then. It would be a test. If she got six votes in the next ballot, at least he’d know who the third candidate was. And his shift to her side might give her momentum that would propel her to the top.

Assuming, of course, she made it to the election. Drummond strictly enforced Devlin Stone’s suggestion that the Paladins be cut off from the outside world throughout the course of their deliberations. None of them knew anything that was going on outside the chamber doors.

“Paladins!” Drummond called. “Another hour has passed. The time for the fifth trial ballot has arrived. Please cast your votes.”

As had become the custom, a flurry of last-second, prevote pleas arrived on Jonah’s screen.

He didn’t have to say that he was shilling for Sorenson.

You are perhaps the only person in the council whom I do not have to remind to vote with your conscience instead of with political expediency in mind. Yet I feel you could use the reminder.—Drummond

Jonah almost leapt to his feet. How in hell did someone send an anonymous message? Who would put in the time and effort required to circumvent the built-in identification system?

Kessel seemed the type, but this day, at least, he appeared happy to be identified with the causes he espoused. The veiled threat of the anonymous message was almost enough to make him leap to the McKinnon camp. Say what you would about the man, his integrity was unblemished. He would not stoop to such tactics.

But someone supporting him might. Without him knowing a thing about it, someone could be attempting to push support into McKinnon’s camp. They knew how he’d react to this message, believing it might push him to McKinnon. As it almost had.

Jonah firmly cast his vote for Heather GioAvanti. As he did, a single green light joined the five red, yellow and blue lights already in place.

The third candidate wasn’t Heather. Jonah had guessed wrong. Again.

He shook his head as Meraj Jorgensson stood. Jonah cocked his head in interest. He had no idea if Jorgensson had anything helpful to say, but he usually was interesting when he spoke.

“Paladin Drummond,” he said, “the wisdom that an army marches on its stomach has remained true through the millennia. Though we are not actually marching, I think I can safely say that this morning, and early afternoon, have been a long haul. Might we break for lunch?”

“We are deciding the future of The Republic,” Drummond shot back. “Are you suggesting our appetites should take priority over that?”

Three other Paladins leapt to their feet. Jonah rolled his eyes. Even lunch could not be accomplished without debate.

While the arguing crescendoed, Jonah looked back at the vague threat still sitting on his screen. If it was any indicator, the rest of the day would be a long descent into the mud.

Teka-Net, Geneva

Terra, Prefecture X

20 December 3134

Cullen Roi looked at the overhead speaker, hardly able to believe the words from his blocking force: “Under attack, front and rear. Going to defensive perimeter.”

“Press them!” he ordered. “I want blood in the streets, people.”

“I’m on it,” Norah said. “We know where one group of troopers is. They seem to have two. Who knows how many more?”

“Looks like Redburn is trying our trick,” Cullen Roi said. “He wants his own Man in a White ’Mech to get voted in, and that buggering Spider–driver out there is the one on tap.”

“Do we call in our man now?” Norah asked.

“It’s still too early.”

“We don’t have a choice. They’ve forced our hand.”

Cullen scanned the feedback from recent skirmishes, encounters that his people were invariably losing. Norah was right. “Okay. Get a message into the Chamber of Paladins—use a Senate page, one of the sneakier ones—that there are riots in the streets, and that there’s a Mech Warrior run amok out there. Then make sure that there are riots in the streets by the time our man gets there.”

“I’m on it,” she said. “And after that?”

“After that it’s mayhem for everyone,” Cullen said. “It’s been years since I’ve thrown a Molotov cocktail through a shop window. I hope I haven’t gotten rusty.”

Norah asked, “Do we shut down HQ?”

“Shut it down, burn it down, doesn’t matter. We’re done here. Let’s go while we’re clear.”

“Too late,” she said, and the change in her voice made his blood go cold.

A moment later, and he felt what she had felt: the regular, ponderous vibration of the floor under his feet. A giant’s footsteps, coming down the street and into the square outside the data shop. The unmistakable approach of a BattleMech.

“Go out the back,” he said. “Use the secret exit. They’ll have it covered in another minute, but there’s still time for you to make it past them.”

“What about you?”

“My hand’s played out. But if they have me alive to work with, they may not think you’re important enough to waste resources on. Find Hansel, if he’s still alive, and keep the organization going.”

She bit her lip hard, but said nothing, and left as he had instructed. Cullen waited alone in the empty headquarters, listening as the ’Mech’s footsteps drew nearer and halted. If the shop’s proprietor were wise, he thought, the man would see the day’s tri-vid news and decide to extend his visit to Nova Scotia indefinitely.

A couple of minutes later, the noise of vehicle engines revved and died outside the building. Then he heard running footsteps, first advancing, then retreating, and was not surprised, a steady ten count later, when the front of the data shop collapsed in a roar of explosives.

When the smoke of the explosion had cleared, Cullen stood blinking, looking down the muzzles of a half squad’s worth of Gauss rifles. A Spider BattleMech stood across the square, its arms folded across its armored chest.

“Please come with me, sir,” said a corporal in the uniform of the Terran militia.

Cullen Roi bowed his head and went.