Sword of Sedition

She had not really known the giant man, but she’d respected his position and his history of accomplishments. Sad, yes. But there seemed to be something more lurking under the surface. A grim determination as the paladins monitored the last remnants of fighting, the retreat of the senators and their supporters, and culled names from the Republic’s roster of active servicemen. Separating those who had supported the loyalist cause from those who had remained steadfast.

Tara put a hand on Gareth Sinclair’s arm as he and Heather GioAvanti finished up a hasty conference and returned to their comrades, and their own stations. “What’s left?” she asked.

No one had spent much time or energy to freshen up after battle. After cleaning up the fighting around Chateau-Thierry, Tara and Gareth had grabbed simple jumpsuits to pull over their combat togs. Heather GioAvanti had found a moment to drag out a working uniform, but her hair was also still matted down from wearing a neurohelmet.

Gareth sipped at a lime-flavored sports drink, still hydrating himself after the long day spent inside a cockpit. He toasted the paladins working at their stations with it. “They’re tracking down the last of the on-planet holdouts. Some small skirmishes being put down in Sverdlovsk and Sao Paulo.”

“We can’t be certain how many loyalist supporters made the final DropShip exodus, either,” GioAvanti said. “It will take some time to set Terra to rights. But we’ll get the job done. David McKi

“That doesn’t seem right. Especially after the trouble The Republic went through over Victor Steiner-Davion.” Though there weren’t many who could compete with Victor’s resume. Next to his life, most paled.

Gareth and Heather were far more practical. They both began to speak, both stopped. Heather nodded at the younger paladin, ceding the floor to him. “What’s not right is that we put Victor through the trouble to begin with. No paladin wants their death to be a long, drawn-out affair. It’s what we do with our lives that we want to matter.”

“Also,” Heather reminded them all, “Meraj was Clan. He kept his codex up to date. A copy and his DNA gifttake will be returned to the Dominion. He’ll be remembered through new generations.” She paused, glanced at her colleague, and then offered, “You will, of course, be asked to attend the service for Paladin Meraj.”

Tara nodded. “I would be honored. But is there anything more I can do, today?”

She didn’t feel up to much more. And her BattleMech wasn’t ready for anything but a long and detailed overhaul. But the offer had to be made.

She hadn’t come back to Terra to stand back and watch.

Paladin Mandela walked by and slipped a wave and a glance in GioAvanti’s direction. Heather checked back toward the door, and then returned a quick nod to her comrade. “I guess that is going to depend,” the paladin said.

She turned Tara toward the entrance to the chamber with nothing more than a directed look. The exarch’s chief of staff waited there. Héloïse Montgolfier. Sca

Jonah Levin played bartender, pulling three glasses out of a Chippendale and pouring healthy splashes from a clear bottle. His staff would frown later, seeing that he hadn’t properly called for one of the servants who existed for such menial tasks. But Levin had had enough today of letting others handle the workload around him while he sat, and waited.

“I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to storm out of my office today, and take to the field.”

Cradling all three glasses in his hands, he carried them over to the small sitting area. The Bullet had curtains drawn over its windowed alcove and lights set to eight percent. As close to an intimate setting as he could make it. He handed one glass—carefully!—to Tara Campbell. Julian Davion looked ready to refuse, but the exarch nodded.

“It’s flavored water.”

He had learned many things in the last few months regarding the Federated Suns’ champion. Levin had made it a point to find out, the moment Harrison Davion insisted that the young man stay and sit in on that first meeting. Knowing that Julian would refuse an alcoholic drink was only one piece of valuable information.

Knowing why was another.

Both Tara and Julian sipped politely, still standing. The exarch joined them, taking a seat on one of the leather chairs, letting the supple material form around him like a glove. The others sat after him.

Julian set his aside first. “I imagine the exarch taking to the field would have been looked on as a reckless act to some,” he said.

“To most, Julian.” Jonah sipped, letting the fresh hint of lemon wash away the dry taste that had plagued him all day while pacing floors in his many offices. “People forget so quickly that I came up a warrior. Was a paladin before I was ever exarch. When news came of Jorgensson’s death, that was hard. But it wasn’t the hardest part of my day.”

“What was?” Tara asked.

She had remained distant, almost cold, since being escorted up by Héloïse. Even now, the questions seemed to be pulled out of her by some outside force. Jonah recognized it instantly. He was getting to know all too well the pressures of “outside forces.”

“When I noticed that they had come into my office, in my absence, and changed the seal.”

He nodded over at the carpet inlay. The normal ensign of The Republic ran a knot-work ba

But now the stars all burned red, not gold, and the ba

There were many things about the job that Damien had failed to mention.

“Still,” he continued, “Terra is secured. Mostly. The Republic stands.” For now. “I don’t think I need to tell either of you how desperate things have turned in the last half year. You saw a great measure of that today. But I did want to thank both of you for your efforts.”

“And the senators?” Tara asked. “What happens to them now?”

“Well, that depends on what they try next. Co

“Regardless, it is a problem for tomorrow. One I hope to meet with my allies,” he nodded toward Julian, “and… my paladins.”

Tara had prepared herself. Smart woman. As much a political animal as a warrior, she had to have suspected the offer was coming. Her face betrayed nothing as Jonah offered her the same position she had turned down once already.

“The Republic needs you, Countess. Now more than ever. It is a sad opportunity that a seat in the chamber has opened, but not one I am willing to overlook when the best candidate is sitting in the same room.”

Tara sipped at her water, then carefully set it aside on a marble coaster.

She stood. Again slowly. Deliberately. Bringing herself to attention.

And shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Exarch. And please don’t believe I’m making this decision lightly. I’ve had a year to think about it. During the fighting for Skye and Prefecture IX the challenges The Republic faces were driven home, and maybe at that time I would have accepted. But after this, my second tour of duty on Terra itself, and how you needed to use me here… there are things I might need to do. Things you might ask me to do. And I wouldn’t be able to get the job done draped in paladin’s colors. You need people on the outside.”