Sword of Sedition

So she set her gear bag aside—on the floor, not a pew—and walked down the aisle to clasp hands with the paladin. Finding her voice, she said, “It is good to see you, Sire McKi

Pushing past a century himself and now, with Victor’s passing, the oldest living paladin, David McKi

“None of that,” he warned her. “We were on a first-name basis on Skye, after all.”

Four months before, yes, they had been. The paladin had worked alongside her, fought alongside her, to help keep Skye free of Clan Jade Falcon. Then came his summons back to Terra, which she had not understood at the time, and had resented.

“You came back for Victor,” she said, understanding and apologizing at once.

“I came back for my exarch. Victor’s assassination threw everything into chaos, and the future of The Republic hung in the balance. It still may.” He glanced back. “Would you care to pay your respects?” he asked.

“I would.”

McKi

Victor had never been a tall man, but there had been a strength of size about him regardless. Now it was gone. What was left was a well-preserved man of one hundred and eight, with snow-white hair the same color as David McKi

“He looks good,” she said, stepping back from the coffin. “Peaceful.”

“It takes a small army of the best funerary specialists on planet to keep him that way. Four months laying in state is not an easy task to make presentable. And every one of them considers it a high honor to be part of the team.”

“As well as a full honor guard, no doubt,” Tara said. “At least during public viewing hours.”

McKi

“Standing watch or standing by?” Stepping back, she turned to her friend. “David, how did you people allow this to happen? All of this?”

McKi

“Two weeks of travel time, even at the pace you set for my DropShip, leaves a lot of time for reading. A lot of time to miss in Prefecture IX.”

“We didn’t call you back to Terra lightly. If you think we’d pause a military campaign for a PR tour, you don’t give me or our new exarch enough credit. Jonah Levin needs you. That’s why you are here.”

“Then why am I not meeting with Exarch Levin?” she asked. A need so great that it kept her even from being allowed to check into a local hotel, to freshen up after a long spaceflight, it seemed at odds with a visit to the resting place of Victor Steiner-Davion at such an early hour.

McKi

A task for which she was well-suited. Tara Campbell was the current media darling of The Republic’s military and political scene both. Had been since her stand against the Steel Wolves. Her preference for uniforms over noble’s dress had inspired several paramilitary lines of clothing, and how she wore her hair on any given day might spark a new trend as well. More and more models, she had noticed lately, were moving toward a similar coloring, even. Her platinum blond hair was becoming less a rarity every day.

And her politics were just as trendy. Tara’s arrival on a world had already proven itself capable of influencing the pundits and politicians, both of whom so often traveled with the sway in public mood.

“You truly believe that Exarch Levin ca

“Not a chance. The Senate brought this to a head when they began talking censure rather than investigation. No one—and I mean not one of them—wants a public trial of Geoffrey Mallowes. They see it as the potential loss of stature and power.”

“Among the nobility, those words are often interchangeable,” Tara agreed. Speaking from personal experience.

“Paladins GioAvanti and Sinclair culled two senators out of the pack. Gerald Monroe and Therese Ptolomeny. We tried to pressure both into turning public against the cabal, and against the Senate’s stonewalling strategy. Perhaps too strongly.”

Tara scoffed. “Perhaps? That’s like calling the loss of Skye a ‘disagreement.’ Gerald Monroe is dead. And the news media is full of Senator Ptolomeny blasting The Republic, and the knighthood in particular, for ‘stormtrooper tactics.’ And let me tell you, parking an armored column outside her Riviera mansion to place her under ‘house arrest’ isn’t helping your image.”

She felt like a child lecturing her grandfather. And David handled it about as well, stiffening his spine and turning stone-faced as she spoke. But then, like anyone who recognizes the truth when it’s thrown in his face, he nodded reluctantly.

“It’s definitely a case of escalation,” he admitted.

“Worse, it’s mutually assured destruction. The Senate has upped the stakes. At this point, The Republic will come out of this smelling sour no matter what.”

McKi

“Knight of Markab?” Tara asked, remembering the name.

“No longer. He’s resigned his commission and broken his oath to the exarch.” He reached back to the second set of pews and pulled a thin file of video stills into his lap. Flipped to one in particular and held it out to her.

Tara studied it. Dress uniform castoffs arranged very carefully over a marble floor. Cape of rank. Tunic and trousers. Medals still pi

“Monroe’s uniform,” she said, understanding. “And that marble… it’s the floor in the Chamber of Paladins?”

“No. The Rotunda. Outside the chamber. Very public.”

“He’s made it clear that there is no chance for reconciliation.” Tara nodded. “When soldiers were branded traitors on the ancient Terran frontier, they would be stripped of all rank insignia and driven out to the beat of a drum. That’s why they call it getting ‘drummed out’ of the corps.” She tapped the image. “He’s got a flair for the dramatic.”

“More than you know,” McKi

“When did that happen?”

“Only three days ago. An emergency appointment. His confirmation vote takes place in Prefecture III later this month.”

“That’s going to play like hell in the media,” she said. But there was something else lurking behind McKi

“Co

Perfect.

“Tara, you know the kind of trouble we’re facing here. You’ve walked both sides of this fence for the last couple of years.” McKi