“Please do,” Drummond said.
Heather turned to address the other Paladins. “As you might guess, the streets are a little chaotic this morning. Most of the activity is peaceful. It wasn’t, however, supposed to be that way. The Kittery Renaissance—I believe you’re all familiar with the group—had planned a series of violent riots throughout the city. If we hadn’t caught a lucky break, thanks mainly to information provided to Paladin Levin, they would have been armed to the teeth and it would have been an extremely destructive morning. As it is, casualties and property destruction have been kept to a minimum. And a man identified as Cullen Roi, who we believe to be very highly placed in the Kittery Renaissance, possibly its leader, is in custody.”
Most of the Paladins smiled at the news, a few even applauded. Drummond, stone-faced, motioned for silence.
I hope we all remember that the terrorists of the KR are far more extreme than others who may share some of their beliefs. Please do not tar all patriots with the same brush based on this group’s misguided actions.—Kessel
Jonah translated the message to himself: Please do not hold the Founder’s Movement responsible for the KR’s actions.
This is the type of strength we need to show. But we should view this achievement as a first step to dealing with such threats, not as a final victory.—McKinnon
She had a job to do. She did it well, but let’s not turn a Paladin doing her job into a major political matter.—Jorgensson
Heather, meanwhile, had reddened a bit during the applause, but maintained her composure. “Thank you, but I’d like you to give at least this much credit to the militia who served under me. Their training and responsiveness were exemplary.
“Now, I’ll assume Paladin Levin has briefed you about his investigation.” She glanced over at Jonah, who nodded. “I don’t have much concrete to add. But let me say that this conspiracy he’s identified is a real threat. We have pretty clear evidence that one of the activities of this conspiracy was directing money to the Kittery Renaissance. We don’t know how else they may have supported this group, but it seems they didn’t just stop with money.
“This is the situation we’re in. This is what the next Exarch must face. We have a fight on our hands, and we need someone who can fight back, and who can show everyone what’s still right with The Republic. But we can’t just elect someone who will fight well; we need someone who we know will fight fair. Otherwise”—she shrugged—“there eventually won’t be much difference between them and us.”
She turned to Drummond. “Let’s finish this off,” she said, and took her seat.
Unsurprisingly, Heather’s address set off another flurry of messages. Jonah replied as quickly as he could.
Is this threat as serious as Heather is making it seem? Are people in government connected to terrorists?—Mandela
I’m afraid so.—Levin
Whoever you voted for last time didn’t work out. Try again.—Avellar
You’ve done quite well lately, Jonah. You’d be a great addition to our team. We can address all the problems identified today and more.—Kessel
You are not the man for this time. Turn the tide of voting now or every illegal step you took in your investigation will come out.
“I move we begin final balloting,” Mandela said, interrupting Jonah’s thoughts.
“Seconded,” Heather said immediately.
“All those in favor?” A unanimous chorus of ayes followed. “Very well,” Drummond said. “The final balloting will now begin. Once a majority of Paladins have agreed on a single candidate, the election process will be complete.”
Jonah felt a sensation akin to being ambushed in battle. He felt surrounded and under-armed. Thanks to that last message, he finally knew who the third candidate was, and the prospect of that person being elected panicked him far more than did the idea of Sorenson becoming Exarch.
Lights already began appearing. Two red lights appeared, and Jonah caught Kessel and Sorenson leaning back in their chairs. Red must be Sorenson.
Three yellow lights announced a new leader in the election. McKinnon, Jonah guessed. He was the only other Paladin with such a unified bloc of support.
A blue light illuminated. The third candidate had a vote.
One more of each color lit. Three red, four yellow, two blue. Just over half the votes in, and McKinnon held the lead.
Then blue. Blue again. And a third time, giving it the lead with five votes, six more to come.
“All votes must be cast in a one-minute interval,” Drummond droned. “Please submit your choice.”
Two more blue. The third candidate had seven, two votes shy of victory. Then another vote for McKinnon’s yellow, followed by yet another blue.
Red held at three. Sorenson’s support was dwindling while McKinnon’s five had remained firm. But the third candidate had eight, needing only one to become Exarch. And Jonah held the final vote.
He could use his vote to end the election right here, or he could vote for a fourth candidate and keep the balloting going. But he knew what line needed to be held. And from his earliest days as a militia commander, he had never asked anyone to do a job that he wasn’t willing to do himself. No matter how much he might wish otherwise, some tasks couldn’t be delegated.
He pressed a button. A ninth blue light came on.
Tyrina Drummond looked down at the display on her desktop, then left her seat and went to the lectern. Once again, the Nova Cat Paladin swept the chamber with her commanding gaze, and then she spoke.
“Fellow Paladins,” she said, “the final ballot has yielded a victor. The Exarch-Elect of The Republic of the Sphere is Jonah Levin.”
62
Office of the Exarch, Hall of Government, Geneva
Terra, Prefecture X
2 January 3135
Aweek after the election, Jonah Levin was still in a daze. Today’s meeting in the Exarch’s office with the Ghost Paladin—the head of The Republic’s most secret intelligence force, the commander of the Ghost Knights—didn’t seem likely to clear his mind. Even the physical office itself depressed him, since it had been loaned to him by Damien Redburn for the occasion with the cheerful remark that it was all going to be his soon anyway. Jonah was not looking forward to that day.
He’d spoken to Heather GioAvanti shortly after the election, pretending to blame her speech for dooming him to office. She’d just shaken her head and smiled.
“I didn’t even mention your name. I just said what kind of person we needed. It’s not my fault that most of the Paladins agreed that you’re that kind of person.”
“I’m not sure I am,” he said honestly.
“That’s okay,” Heather said. “The rest of us think you’re that kind of person. That’s enough.”
At that point, he accepted that it was time to stop worrying about the situation he’d been thrust into, or entertaining doubts about his adequacy. It was time to focus on the job that needed doing.
Today, that job involved waiting alone in Damien Redburn’s private office for a man to arrive. Or perhaps a woman—no one except for the Exarch, and soon the Exarch-elect, was in a position to know the Ghost Paladin’s identity for sure. Jonah wondered for a moment how the Ghost Paladin came and went in the Hall of Government without revealing his identity, and made a mental note to ask him or her.
At precisely the appointed hour, the inner door of Redburn’s office opened and the Ghost Paladin walked in. Jonah looked at the newcomer for a moment; then, despite the heaviness of office that already had descended upon him over the past few days, he smiled.