Surrender Your Dreams

by Blaine Lee Pardoe

  Movement caught her eye and she saw a Centaur battle armor crew, armored infantry with light artillery mounted on their backs, scramble across the rooftop a block away then drop out of sight. They had fired their portable artillery onto the street from the rooftop—a three-dimensional calculation ordinary troops would not risk. She had underestimated the Fidelis.

  It wouldn't happen again.

  If Sir Erbe wanted to cut off his line of retreat, then so be it. "This is Midnight Angel to Sweep Lance. New orders. Advance to the main road and shift north. Street- by-street sweeps. All units, vector north by northeast and turn their flanks." If he wants to reach the warehouse and dig in there, I'll let him.

  * * *

  A Light Horse VTOL, a batlike Yasha roaring on stubby turbo jets, swung to the north of the warehouse. The Fidelis troops on the roof—a squad of Kage battle- armored infantry—rose on their jump jets and traded a few rounds with the circling VTOL. The exchange was inconclusive. In the dim morning twilight, Erbe could only see the plumes of the jets and the sparks off the armor of the Yasha as it took hits.

  The decision to pull away from the spaceport was risky, but it gave his troops the advantage of initiative. He knew that the militia's battle plan would be to push them around and force them back to the spaceport. His choice to forge ahead ruined that plan. Besides, he had come for the DropShip engines, and he planned to get them. Fidelis scouts had reported that the warehouse holding the engines was large and reinforced, big enough to hold BattleMechs and support vehicles. The buildings around it were shorter, giving an entrenched force an advantage in the field. It would have to do as a refuge.

  A wave of long-range missiles dropped on his Hellstar. Half of them hit, ripping into his metallic hide. The boxlike assemblies on the 'Mech's shoulders held his extended-range large lasers and the one on the left bore the brunt of the assault. The damage display showed that the cooling coil on that unit had taken a hit. The laser would fire, but he would have trouble using it in a prolonged fight.

  He turned and saw the militia squad, a hoverbike unit, turning on a dime now that they had his attention. Time to test out that laser. He pivoted the box down and twisted the torso of the Hellstar so that the small cluster of hovercraft were lined up. He fired. The weapon made an unexpected crackling sound, but discharged. A beam of emerald light lanced out just in front of the fleeing infantry squad. He angled it back, burning a trench in the ferrocrete and dragging the beam into the lead pair of hoverbikes. The first one dipped down hard and exploded in a ball of bright orange light that lit up the entire block. The other one caught a glancing blow and crashed into the nearby building. The driver bailed out and limped off, backlit by the burning wreck of his vehicle. The other hoverbikes split up and broke away to regroup elsewhere.

  Kristoff hated this. Even though he had turned the tide of battle so that he was calling the shots, he was fighting a defensive operation. He preferred fighting out in the open, not in urban environments. He excelled at mobile battles: siege combat was costly for everyone involved. He couldn't afford costly.

  Fires several blocks away were casting weird lights and shadows against the sides of nearby buildings. The damage proved that his troops were putting up a good fight for a withdrawal. Past where he had fired at the hoverbikes, the hulking Mangonel finally lumbered into view. Its presence here meant one thing: The path to the spaceport was closed.

  The Mangonel's girth filled the entire street. Locking his quad pack of pulse lasers onto the behemoth, he waited for the tone. Erbe heard it as the militia pilot twisted his 'Mech's torso to align his massive auto- cannon.

  Erbe fired first: It was no contest. The pulse lasers sprayed a burst of crimson light onto the Light Horse 'Mech. The bulk of the assault 'Mech made it an easy target. The closely grouped shots burrowed deep, churning into the thick armored hide of his foe. The Mangonel rattled under the laser barrage as Kristoff felt his cockpit temperature surge. His lasers whined loudly as the capacitors started their recharge cycle, and he felt the fusion reactor under his feet step up output. The Mangonel was a dangerous foe, so he immediately juked to the left, shifting so that the warehouse was to his rear and a two-story office building gave him some cover from the counterassault.

  The Light Horse 'Mech had taken the damage near its autocannon, and the holes glowed red from the heat. The assault 'Mech fired. A stream of shells arced out. Two found their mark, hitting his left arm below the elbow actuator and pushing the limb away from the torso. The rest of the shells hit the building he was using for shelter, digging into the roof and walls. The entire building seemed to crumble as flames burst out with a roar.

  On the rooftop of another building he saw a squad move in the shadows. They emerged for a moment from behind a group of chimneys and took cover behind a decorative row of bricks. He knew them. Infiltrator Two. They were the elite of the Fidelis infantry and they had the Mangonel in their sights—at cockpit level. From their perch in the shadows they leveled their rifles and fired. Their modified shells peppered the cockpit ferro- glass. Kristoff used his viewscreen controls to zoom in. Unlike standard small arms, the modified weapons and rounds used by the Fidelis were damaging the ferroglass. Circular pockmarks formed where the rounds hit. An inferno round hit as well, lighting up like a Molotov cocktail but burning much hotter. Half of the cockpit windshield was on the verge of being penetrated and was burning brilliant yellow.

  The Light Horse MechWarrior knew he was pushing his luck. Walking backward nearly half a block, he retreated behind a building.

  "Good work, Infiltrator Two," Erbe signaled. He could swear that he saw one of the men give him a thumbs-up. "All units, shepherd those prime haulers into the warehouse. We need to get those DropShip engines loaded and ready to roll. Colonel Adamans, form a defensive perimeter around this structure and the surrounding buildings. Send out a squad to secure water and food in case we're here awhile. Deploy our mobile artillery infantry and come up with a plan for dealing with that Yasha when it comes back."

  "Affirmative, sir." His tactical display showed Adamans' Goshawk already on the far side of the warehouse, covering the north.

  The sun was just beginning to come up over the horizon. A bloodred streak filled the sky horizontally as the rising sun lit up the purplish clouds. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day on Callison. 1 only wish I could say the same about my corner of the world. Sir Kristoff Erbe took a moment to admire the sunrise.

  He watched as the early morning light illuminated the smoke from the battle all the way back to the spaceport, and finally examined the question he had deliberately ignored in order to concentrate on reaching the warehouse. How did the militia know where we were going to be and when? He knew the answer; had known it from the moment the militia showed up. Ceresco had set him up. What would cause a fellow Knight of the Sphere to turn against her own people? He couldn't make her actions make sense.

  Now it was also his mission to make sure that she was apprehended and brought to justice. The Republic may have retreated into its Fortress, but that didn't mean the law had retreated with it.

  Overture 2

  New Earth

  Prefecture X, Republic of the Sphere

  Fortress Republic (-92 days)

  The operations meeting room was secured in so many ways that the occupants assumed it was overkill for a reason. Not only was there physical security in the form of armored troops in the hallway guarding the door, there were also obvious jamming devices in the corners of the room. Patrol dogs sniffed the corridors and perimeter of the complex where the meeting was held.

  Eight chairs were arranged in a single horseshoe- shaped row around the central podium, which stood vacant. The video workboards that lined the walls were shut down and locked out. There were multiple data- analysis terminals in the room; they all had the same screen saver that announced they were secured. Security for this meeting far surpassed the normally tight security of ordinary military operations.

  The
people in the room milled about in essentially three groups. The first was obviously the Knights and Knights Errant of the Sphere. Their uniforms announced their status. The second group was dressed in discreet gray uniforms bearing no rank insignia or other identification, and their hairstyles were far too casual for standard military personnel. One of them desperately needed a shave. The last group consisted of two officers wearing the uniforms of the Republic of the Sphere. Both wore the insignia of the Principes Guards on their arms; both wore an expression that betrayed their combat experience.

  There was no mingling between the groups.

  Redburn entered the room and in unison, the armored guards on the hallway side closed the doors. When he reached the podium, he stopped for a moment to survey the assembled soldiers. All conversation ended in the time it takes a heart to beat twice. Most of the people in the room looked genuinely surprised to see him, which he understood—Damien Redburn was old news.

  "Please be seated," he said, by way of checking the sound levels. His voice sounded loud for the size of the room.

  He launched immediately into his message. "I am here under the direct orders and auspices of the exarch," he stated, making eye contact with each person in the room. "What I'm about to tell you is important enough for the exarch to allow me to handle it personally. Obviously, this is highly classified, and nothing conveyed here can leave this room. Understood?"

  A low "yes sir" rumbled back to him. Redburn noticed that he was warm and adjusted the temperature in the room down a few degrees from the controls in the podium.

  "In a short time, the exarch will be executing a plan called Fortress Republic. This plan was devised by Devlin Stone himself and left to the exarchs who followed him. The scope of this plan can be compared to Keren- sky's exodus from the Inner Sphere. Quite literally. The Republic will collapse in on itself, executing a strategic withdrawal inside the borders of an area roughly mapped by Prefecture X. An iron curtain will be put in place that will prohibit entry into Fortress Republic space. Anyone attempting to enter the Fortress will have little chance of surviving, let alone succeeding in penetrating these defenses." He paused for a moment. Stunned looks swept the faces of those gathered before him.

  "Sir, how can you possibly secure an entire region of space?" asked one of the knights. "It would seem there are too many ways in and out, not to mention HPG traffic."

  Redburn allowed his voice to become deeper. "You will have to trust me on this. Sir Mannheim: There are ways to enforce such a barrier. It is best that no one in this room know the details of that enforcement."

  Damien took a sip of the water that had been provided for him and continued. "For an undetermined period of time. The Republic will remain in the Fortress preparing for the appropriate moment to return and reestablish itself within the Inner Sphere. In the meantime, the knights will protect the long-term strategic interests of The Republic by executing operations outside the Fortress.

  "These missions are atypical for knights and those they command, but these missions are necessary for the survival of The Republic. We—/ will be asking a great deal from each of you. Exarch Levin recognizes the utmost importance of these missions, which is why he has sent a paladin to lead you.

  "While Fortress Republic is being implemented, there is a risk that outside interests could cripple our plans. The missions that you will undertake are aimed at preventing the Houses and other factions from seizing the initiative during the existence of the Fortress. Many different operations will unfold over the next few years— many of your brothers and sisters who are not here today are also undertaking missions. The scope of these operations is massive; some will take years to fulfill." He paused, letting his words sink in. Jaws hung open; faces were drained of color. They're soldiers first and foremost. They'll do what's right.

  "Each knight here will be paired with a ghost knight."

  He gestured to the three men whose uniforms lacked insignia. "You also will have some unique military assets at your disposal: I am tapping a secret resource that Devlin Stone set up for just such an eventuality. They call themselves the Fidelis, but chances are you will know them by the name used in the history books: Stone's Shadows. They are highly trained and well-equipped commandos. Their numbers are limited, but their contributions will be invaluable, given the nature of the missions." He reached under the podium, pulled out a small file box and walked to one end of the row of chairs.

  To each of the people in the room, save the two military officers, he handed a set of orders in a sealed envelope marked most secret, and a black datacube. Each envelope was torn open, the orders reviewed. He watched the faces of the noble men and women pledged to serve The Republic. More than one face regained its color. Some tightened. Some turned red. He saw anger and frustration. No one spoke.

  Redburn returned to the podium. "Some of you will deploy immediately. The rest of you are on standby until your missions are given the green light. Please note that it may be months or even years before you are asked to execute your orders." Again there was silence.

  "Ghost knights, your paladins have provided you with orders that supplement the support you are giving the more public efforts of the knights. These orders are "eyes only," though you may share that data with your coordinating knight at your own discretion. The orders of the ghost knights in these missions supercede those of the knights in all cases." He saw two of the knights look at each other, understandably puzzled by his statement. The time he had spent with the ghost paladin planning these missions had convinced him that this dual structure was necessary for the success of the operations. The ghosts normally didn't coordinate efforts directly with other knights, and forcing them to work under the knights errant would hinder the full use of their skills and abilities.

  "You were all chosen specifically for your talents. your psychological profile and your skills. I worked with the ghost paladin and, in at least one case, the exarch himself to match you to the mission you've been handed. I suggest that you access the secured terminals here, review the data on the cubes I've handed you and pair up with your opposite assets in the room. I am going now to a secured room just down the hall. I'm sure some of you will have a question or two, and I want to make sure you have a chance to ask them." He managed to get one step from the podium before the knight who had spoken up earlier, a tall, lanky warrior named Hunter "Hunt" Mannheim, raised his hand to get Red- burn's attention.

  "Sir Mannheim?"

  "Sir . . ." Mannheim paused, not sure what title to associate with Redburn, but then pressed on. "It's the Fortress Republic plans and timing. Will we have a chance to see our loved ones before we depart?"

  Damien Redburn looked down for a moment. He had been dreading this question because of the answer he would have to give. "For security reasons, we cannot allow that. You will all be departing from New Earth before the Fortress walls go up. All of us, including me, will be separated from our families for the duration of this crisis. I'm sorry." He paused for a moment to make eye contact with the knight. "This impacts me as well. There is a price for the freedoms we defend. Until now, only a few understood the full measure of our commitment to preserve The Republic. You, all of you"—he waved his hand to encompass the entire room—"are going to show the Inner Sphere the extent to which The Republic will go to preserve itself." With those words, Redburn left the room.

  * * *

  "They're not what I expected." Knight Kristoff Erbe said in a low tone to the older knight standing next to him. They had spent several minutes reviewing their mission orders, and then the knights clustered quickly to compare notes and opinions.

  "Who, the ghosts?" Hunter Mannheim replied. "You've never worked with them before, I take it?"

  "No," Erbe said, giving the group of them reviewing their datacubes another glance.

  "I have once before," Sir Mannheim replied. "They're—well . . . different."

  "I have never worked with a ghost, but I've heard stories," a tall female knight added. "A g
ood friend of mine has spent months working with one. They are on an undercover mission together right now."

  "Anyone I would know, Crystal?" Hunter asked.

  "Alexi Holt," she replied with a confident grin.

  "Oh, I've heard of her," Erbe replied. "If she's on a mission that means that we . . ."

  "Yes," Lady Synd interrupted. "She and Jones have finally found a way to penetrate ComStar security. Both are deep undercover."

  "Too bad," Mannheim commented.

  "What do you mean?" she asked.

  "If they had gotten into ComStar sooner, they might have made none of this necessary." He waved his hand at the room, but the other two knights knew that he was speaking about their missions.

  "I don't think so," Erbe replied. "Even if the network was back up, the enemies of The Republic would keep coming. The blackout was simply an excuse. I think that this plan, as crazy and difficult as it is, is probably the best strategy the exarch could think of."

  Mannheim frowned. "Not the exarch. Not even the former exarch. No, this came from Stone himself. That is our best hope."

  Sir Erbe paused for a moment. "I wonder just how many meetings like this are taking place."

  "I know some knights are being recalled to Terra. Others are being transferred to worlds in other Prefectures. I assumed it was simple reassignments. Now . . ."

  ". . . now it seems that there is more going on than meets the eye," finished Mannheim. "Much more."

  * * *

  "Which one of you is Erbe?" the ghost knight asked the tight cluster of knights. She was short, almost tiny in stature, with stunning blue eyes and high cheekbones that made her seem stern. Her tone and the conviction in her voice made her seem much taller, more imposing. Kristoff Erbe, former knight of Towne, studied her for a moment before reaching out to shake her hand. "I'm Kristoff Erbe." Her grip was as firm as his own, almost but not quite a challenge. So, this is a ghost knight . . . not at all what I expected.