Within minutes, Heather was alone with her troops, along with the injured members of the Kittery Renaissance left behind by their fleeing comrades.
“Orders?” the corporal in charge of her detachment asked.
“Form up on the walls, hold against attack from outside,” she said. “Give them some rounds to let them know we’re here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the soldier replied, turning to the rest of the squad and placing them into position with hand gestures.
That only left the materiel, the arms cache that was the purpose of the raid, remaining to be dealt with. She couldn’t use demolition charges on it while her own troops were in the building.
Instead, she walked first to each pile of weapons, and then to the armored car, and carefully stepped down on every one of them with the Spider’s full weight. Thirty tons of ’Mech was as effective as a pile driver for turning weapons and vehicles into scrap metal.
“Now, we aren’t staying,” Heather told the corporal. “But we don’t want them to know we’ve left. Rig collapsing charges against the back wall. When I give the word, blow a breach back there, and everyone pile out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the corporal replied, and again instructed his troops using a series of hand gestures.
Heather took her own position by the front, and added her laser power to the armament display outside. While she was doing so, she radioed Santangelo.
“What’s your situation?”
“Made contact; lobbed a couple of missiles into their midst to let ’em know we’re here.”
“Good job. Break contact, but do it without making it obvious you’re running away. Meet me over at Grid Posit 21391038.”
“Roger, copy all, out.”
“Corporal,” Heather said, “how are you doing?”
“About ready, ma’am. On your signal.”
“Do it now.”
An echoing boom, and the rear wall of the building dissolved into dust.
“Everyone out, follow me,” Heather said.
The newly breached wall opened onto a plaza, and beyond that a set of roads leading away from a fountain and a statue. Heather walked to the far side at a speed the infantry could keep up with. They set a perimeter. Minutes later, Koss and Santangelo arrived.
“To target four,” she replied. “My guess is that the guys who hit you from behind are from there—the place should be unguarded.”
She was right, but when they arrived at warehouse four it was empty—the cache had already been distributed. The same was true of caches six through ten.
She froze in place after the last cache had been inspected. Where to now?
The answer came quickly over the comm. “Paladin GioAvanti?” It was Koss. “Some of our people have been tracing signals all morning, signals we think are communications with the troops we’ve been fighting. They’ve got something I think you want to see.”
Information flooded Heather’s screen. Koss was quite right—this information was definitely worth a look.
59
Chamber of Paladins, Geneva
Terra, Prefecture X
20 December 3134
Stop voting for me.—Avellar
Jonah stared at the message for a good half minute. Everyone, it seemed, was better at this game of knowing who was doing what than he was. He thought about asking her how she knew, but knew she probably wouldn’t tell them. If someone at the table is giving away their hand, you don’t want to go out of your way to tell them what they’re doing wrong.
He opted for a simple reply.
Why?—Levin
I don’t have a chance, and your vote’s better used elsewhere. If everyone stays divided, Kessel will find a way to sneak Sorenson in.—Avellar
Dislike—or at least distrust—of Sorenson seemed to be a major factor in the shifting alliances of the trial ballots. Four had been cast so far, and in the latest one only four individuals had received votes. Avellar had received Levin’s single vote, and the other three had divided the remaining fifteen evenly. One of those three was assuredly McKinnon, another was Sorenson. He guessed the third was Heather—she was well liked and respected, and her absence perhaps was making some hearts grow fonder. Maybe he could fish for some information.
If not you, who?—Levin
How about McKinnon?—Avellar
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.
We will remember the contribution to The Republic you made today. Proper reward and recognition will be yours.—Kessel
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
All conduct by investigating Paladins and their agents is subject to careful review.
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.