The Scorpion Jar

by Jason M. Hardy

  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.

  61

  Chamber of Paladins, Geneva

  Terra, Prefecture X

  20 December 3134

  The relaxing properties of food did nothing to improve the quality of messages Jonah received.

  Detaining an individual without a warrant is not an arrest. It’s kidnapping.

  Do not forget that this election is about lives, lives of people on the planets, in our homes, that we are sworn to defend. The more we join together, the stronger our unified defenses will be. Separation breeds solitude.—Kessel

  That Kessel put his name on that last one made Jonah all but certain he wasn’t the anonymous poster, as it contained a pretty vile sentiment that Kessel apparently was not ashamed to claim for himself. It was written in politicianese, but, decoded, it meant that, should he win the election, Sorenson would make sure the home planets of his supporters were well defended, while the homes of his opposition might as well be up for grabs. Jonah knew Stone would have had no tolerance for such thoughts.

  Look out, Jonah. Some people had their eye on you already, but your speech made you more of a target. People are gunning for you.—Mandela

  Thanks, Otto, but I already knew that, Jonah thought sourly.

  I’m not sure, but I think Kessel just threatened to beat me up if I don’t vote for Sorenson. Do you think I could take him?—Sinclair

  Jonah almost laughed aloud. The fact that Sinclair, barely elevated to Paladin and, until recently, under suspicion for the murder of the man he replaced, could keep a sense of humor even now was a good sign. He’d be a good Paladin.

  Don’t worry, Gareth. I’ve got your back.—Levin

  Another new message arrived just as Jonah hit send.

  When we’re done, Ezekiel Crow will look like a hero compared to you.

  Who was this? He hadn’t suspected any of his fellow Paladins capable of this sort of venom. But then, anonymity always had an ability to pull vile words out of decent souls. Attempts at replying to the message just bounced the response to his own screen.

  What do you know about Paladin GioAvanti’s whereabouts?—Drummond

  Very little. I only knew about her investigation tangentially. Her activities this morning are a mystery.—Levin

  Jonah could almost hear the chiding tone in the reply.

  No need to be circumspect. I am not trying to gain an advantage in the voting. I only wish to know for scheduling purposes.—Drummond

  I honestly do not know.—Levin

  I wish I did, he thought. A delay of this length could mean her morning plans, whatever they had been, had run into serious trouble.

  In this election we must make careful decisions about whom we trust. I do not believe you are choosing wisely.—Drummond

  Wonderful. Tyrina Drummond, who’d praised his honor about an hour ago, now thought he was lying to her. This day was the best possible reminder of why he avoided politics.

  At that moment, the doors of the Chamber of Paladins swung open and Heather GioAvanti strode in. The normally neat and well-groomed Paladin had clearly come to the chamber directly from her morning’s work. She was still wearing a MechWarrior’s shorts and singlet, dark with sweat, her helmet crooked in her right arm. She approached the front of the chamber, where Tyrina Drummond sat in the facilitator’s position.

  “Please accept my apologies for the late arrival,” she said. “I was unavoidably detained on The Republic’s business.”

  “There is no shame in that,” Tyrina Drummond replied. “We have taken five preliminary ballots and are in the middle of discussion on the sixth. At this point, with all Paladins present, we may move on to formal deliberations and final balloting, unless you wish to participate in preliminary balloting yourself.”

  “Not particularly,” Heather said. “But by your leave, I’d like to report on my morning’s activities.”

  “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

  A week 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.

  “An excellent cover identity,” he said to the concierge of the Hotel Duquesne. “And well placed for watching everybody of importance, thanks to The Republic’s generous policy of housing so many of its people in your fine establishment.”

  Emil seated himself, smiling all the while under his waxed mustache. “You’ve put me to a great deal of extra work over the years, Paladin Levin, with your insistence on staying at the Pension Flambard. I can assure you that Madame Flambard is, indeed, as incorruptible a guardian of her guests’ personal privacy as you have always believed. The woman is a veritable dragon, and I’d give a great deal to have her working for me.”

  “Yes. Well. The Exarch—”

  “The current Exarch,” corrected Emil gently.

  “The current Exarch says that you’ve prepared a summary for me of the overall intelligence situation in the aftermath of the election.”

  “Yes,” said Emil. He took out a datacube and set it on Redburn’s desk. “This cube contains copies of the Exarch’s eyes-only intelligence files. You’ll probably want to familiarize yourself with them before your inauguration.”

  “Of course,” Jonah said.

  “In addition, I have a couple of quick verbal updates. First, as regards the Steiner-Davion investigation, and based mostly on material taken from your own closing report to the Exarch, Senator Geoffrey Mallowes and Henrik Morten have been charged in a thirty-seven-count indictment.”

  “Only thirty-seven?”

  “For the moment, yes. Also, your contract employee Burton Horn has been reimbursed for his expenses. And he has been cleared, by virtue of his exercise of your authority, of any charges anyone might consider bringing against him related to this matter.”

  “And the rest of the Senate?”

  “Will not be cleaned up in a day. Lina Derius looks to be the most likely to fall next, but even that’s no sure thing.” Emil looked steadily at Jonah. “Devlin Stone established the Senate to serve as a valuable aide to the Exarch. As of this moment, and probably for most of your term, the Senate is going to be your enemy. They see the way things are going, and they want to hold on to power. Many of them see themselves as nobility first and Senators second, particularly since the HPG blackout. While there are many Senators who are loyal to the Exarch’s office and who continue to support The Republic, a significant number have begun to show a tendency to fall back into the old ways, in which nobility automatically equates to rulership.”

  “Won’t make my job easier.”

  “I’d say not.”

  “Can I arrest them all?” Jonah said, and he wasn’t entirely sure he was joking.

  “Eventually, maybe,” Emil said with a ghost of a smile.

  Jonah shook his head. “The whole idea of Paladins and Senators working together—the nobles and the military, all cooperating for the good of the people—that was one of Stone’s best moments. That goal was supposed to keep all of us thinking of things larger than ourselves.”

  “That’s difficult for many people. Especially nobles.”

  Jonah almost laughed. “I wish we could just blame the nobles. But it’s clear that The Republic’s problems run deeper than that.”

  Jonah sighed. “All right,” he said, refocusing on the tasks at hand. “What about the Kittery Renaissance?”

  “Clandestine, insurgent organizations are designed to keep information concealed. Cullen Roi, the man Paladin GioAvanti captured, is quite gifted at staying silent. We’re fairly certain he was one of the top three people in the organization, but he’s not helping us confirm anything. We’re certain we didn’t get everyone. The woman Paladin GioAvanti calls Norah is still at large, for one, and there’s likely several more out there.”

  “Do we have any idea why they were staging these riots?”

  “As a matter of fact, we do. We made another important arrest on the day of the election—a Senate page who was on KR’s payroll. He was caught trying to get into the Chamber of Paladins during the election.”

  “Let me guess—with a bomb?”

  “No, with an urgent summons from the Senate. The message reported out-of-control rioting in the streets, and demanded that Paladin David McKin
non be dispatched to quell the troubles.”

  “Out-of-control rioting?” Jonah asked with a smile.

  “They overestimated how effective they’d be.”

  “Why McKinnon? Did they want to draw him out into a fight? Kill him?”

  “Draw him into a fight, yes,” Emil replied. “Kill him, maybe not. He’s hardly the number-one enemy to the KR’s cause. No, our theory is that they wanted McKinnon to put down the rioting. They’d present token resistance, then back down. McKinnon would return to the chambers as a hero and be swept into power.”

  “He would? Are we Paladins really that easily manipulated?”

  Emil chose his words carefully. “Don’t underestimate the emotional effects of a military victory on a crowd, even a veteran crowd like the Paladins. Remember the applause for Paladin GioAvanti when she returned. Had she chosen, she might have used her speech to build support for herself, and could well be Exarch-elect right now.”

  It’s true, Jonah thought. I was ready to vote for her—again.

  “She chose to use her speech for your benefit,” Emil said, then corrected himself. “Well, not directly, but that was the effect. She described a person that everyone recognized as you. But the point is, had McKinnon returned and reported victory, it would have been him, not GioAvanti, receiving the accolades. He could have—he would have—easily turned that into victory.”

  “Do you think McKinnon knew about this? Was he in league with KR?” Jonah asked, thinking uncomfortably about the anonymous messages he had received during the election.

  “I doubt it. It’s not his style. I think KR thought McKinnon was electable, unlike Sorenson, and he’d create the right environment for them. He’s not as extreme as they are, but they considered him a step in the right direction. They also knew how trusted McKinnon was throughout The Republic, and thought he’d be perhaps the best emissary possible for spreading Founder’s Movement sympathies, even if it was in what they considered a diluted fashion.”