"We'll be working together. I'm Ceresco Hancock—at least that's what you can call me until I go undercover."
He forced a smile. "I'm looking forward to working with you."
She shook her head. "That's doubtful . . . but I appreciate the sentiment. I assume you've reviewed your orders?"
He glanced down at the paper in his hand. "Yes, I have. It seems straightforward enough. My orders didn't mention your role, however."
"I know," she said, declaiming the words for best dramatic effect. "There's a reason for that. From what my orders state, the primary thing we need to coordinate is the timing for your end of the operation." She said much without saying anything at all.
"My operation seems pretty straightforward," he repeated. "I assumed you'd be there to gather intel for me."
She smiled, and he did not find it reassuring. It was the sinister grin of someone who knows something you don't. "That's part of my role. I have to go in well in advance of your mission. Knowing when you're going to show up is critical to my part of the operation."
"Any chance of your sharing with me what your end of this mission is?" Sir Erbe pressed.
"None," she replied. "Suffice it to say, we have different objectives." With those words she waved her hand to the terminal where she had been working ... an invitation for him to sit with her.
* * *
Damien Redburn watched Lady Crystal Synd step into the room. She was tall and had a narrow frame. She was not a poster child for the knights errant: Her face was drawn and sallow and her nose was, well, big—Roman and sloping. She moved like a specter, as if she floated. That was deceptive; he had read her battle record. She was a master tactician and a deadly fighter. That record was one of the reasons he'd chosen her.
"Lady Synd." He gestured to the chair opposite the ordinary desk in his makeshift office. She slid into the seat without a word. "I take it you want to discuss your mission."
"That is an understatement, sir," she replied. "I have looked over the mission and the resources you plan to assign me. They are insufficient for a mission of this scope."
Redburn had expected this reaction, and it had nothing to do with Crystal Synd herself. Any knight would have questioned her assignment, given what he was sending her in with. "I understand your concerns, but you must accept that there are no other resources I can assign you. You hit Ryde with the forces I'm giving you. You extract the scientists as required. Hopefully you can get them inside The Republic before the wall goes up. If not, the key is that they are out of the hands of the Jade Falcons."
"Sir." Her voice sounded strained. Probably not sure just what to call me or how far she can push it. "You have me dropping on Ryde with a reinforced company. There are not enough forces for a diversion. We have to hit this research facility with everything if we hope to pull this off. The Jade Falcons will respond in kind. They will come at us with the full force of a planetary garrison, a garrison of experienced combat troops."
"That is correct." What else can I say to her?
"The odds are stacked against us achieving the mission parameters," she stated flatly. She avoided saying that victory was impossible. That was promising. Red- burn licked his lips. "I know I'm asking a lot of you. That is why I'm sending the Fidelis troops with you. They are expert fighters, a deadly force."
She hesitated. "Perhaps I'm not the person to lead this, sir. I just don't see a way to pull this off, not without extreme losses."
Redburn nodded twice in understanding. Losses. Knights were soldiers, they followed orders. Officers of The Republic, on the other hand, were not used to suffering the casualties she was anticipating. "You are exactly the person to lead this mission, Lady Synd. I chose you myself, and with good reason. Yes, you are going to take losses, but you are a fluid tactician in a fight. You are a skilled warrior who knows that the mission comes first. You understand that losses are necessary in war and will do what you can to minimize those losses. I wouldn't want anyone else on Ryde representing me or The Republic.
"I am going to repeat myself: Your mission is critical to the long-term success of the Fortress Republic strategy. I can't tell you why, but these scientists can't remain working for the Jade Falcons. It is impossible for me to replace you as the leader of this mission; furthermore, I can't imagine doing it. You are the best resource for making this work."
She stared at him with her hazel eyes, saying nothing, staring not just at him but into him. Redburn let her break the silence. "I understand, sir. 1 will not fail you."
"I know you won't." He rose and saluted her. She cocked her head slightly, confused by the gesture, and returned the salute.
* * *
He sauntered into the office Redburn was using as if he were a drifter rather than a sworn protector of The Republic. Ghost knights were like that. He had brown hair and a coy grin on his face. As Redburn rose to his feet, he slumped into the guest chair at an odd angle, almost as if he were watching a holovid rather than meeting with the former exarch of The Republic.
Cocky, arrogant, self-assured, immature . . . yes, his profile seemed correct. "Sir Chin. Have a seat," he said after the fact, as he resumed his own seat. Jeremy Chin smiled at the use of his formal title. It was something that most ghost knights never heard used.
"You know why I'm here?" he asked.
"I think so."
"Let's see then, you tell me," Chin replied. His tone was overconfident, a sign of his age.
"You have a concern about your portion of the mission. You're worried about the moral implications of what I'm asking you to do."
Chin nodded. "You're dead on, sir. You have me doing something here that is, well, dirty. I've done some borderline stuff as a ghost. As you know, it's sometimes part of the job. This is something that goes way beyond that."
Redburn had been prepared for this discussion. "You're right, Jeremy. This is very dirty work." He sighed, and leaned back in his seat as if he were prepared to bare, his soul. "Hell, it's worse than that. What I'm asking you to do is downright wrong, morally, legally and ethically. And it's going to be worse because you are not kicking off the mission right away. I need you on standby for months, maybe much longer."
The ghost knight was surprised at Redburn's confessional tone. "Sir?"
"Listen," Redburn said, leaning forward across the table. "This is one of the plans that Devlin Stone himself suggested. I'm not fond of it. Like you, though, I am here to serve The Republic. Like you, I follow orders. You aren't going to like this, not at all. Hunter Mannheim would hate it even more, if he knew the full truth. No one likes blood on their hands. You'll do it, though. Your record tells me that. At night, you'll curse me and my children and their children. You'll hate me; and you're right to do that. In twenty years' time, though, you're going to look back and see how important your assignment was." Redburn felt that the best way to deal with Chin was to be up front. He only hoped he hadn't gone too far with his blunt answer.
"Twenty years, eh?" Chin said, clearly stunned by the openness of the former exarch. "You're asking me to do something pretty radical . . . sir. All on the promise that someday it'll be worth it. I'm not looking forward to sitting and waiting until you give us the go signal and the target world. Sitting and waiting, thinking about this. It's going to drive me nuts."
"That's the mission you've drawn, son," he replied. "And telling you this—that's the mission I've drawn."
"The second set of orders I have; the monastery and the, er . . ."
"The artifact?" Redburn ventured.
"Sure. I was going to say the box, but artifact will do. I have to be honest, that part of the mission seems a little strange. Not to mention you've given me no orders as to what to do with it once I recover it." It was a side mission that he was going on—a side mission that Stone himself had described.
"You're right." Redburn smiled thinly. "I haven't."
* * *
Lady Synd saw him brooding and walked over to him. Older than the other knights in
the room, Hunter Mannheim looked angry and agitated. "Sir Mannheim, are you alright?" she asked.
"Hunt. Call me Hunt," he countered. "And no, I'm not alright. Thanks for asking, though. That counts."
"It's your family, isn't it?" she probed.
He looked at her, his expression almost confused. She realized he hadn't been thinking of them at all. "Rita knew what she signed up for by marrying me. The kids are used to my not being around. This is longer than I ever thought I'd be gone, but Judith and Ron are good kids. We raised them to appreciate what they have living on Terra, living in The Republic. No, that's something I can work with. It'll be hard, but they'll be fine." He said the words as if he wanted to believe them more than he did.
"Something else, then?"
Hunter looked at her and she could see the furrows on his forehead, as if he were struggling with what he had been handed. "I'm working in the dark. My orders are to prepare for a mission that, on the surface, seems a bit nefarious."
"None of these missions is very typical."
"At least you get to ship out soon. I have to go and sit on my hands indefinitely."
"Maybe you won't have to go at all."
He shook his head. "I doubt that. Redburn wouldn't have brought me here if this wasn't destined to be a reality. I just find myself wondering about this mission. If we have to do these things to save The Republic, is it really worth it?"
"You are questioning that—really?"
He bit his lower lip. "Yes ... no. No, I'm not. I know that Stone had a hand in determining these operations and that I should trust his judgment, but this mission is not right. These are not the actions one should ask of a Knight of the Sphere."
"I can understand that," she replied.
"I always held knighthood up to a higher standard. Frankly, it scares me to think that in the end we're just officers following orders."
She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "We're more than that, Hunt. We are Knights of the Sphere. No matter what you have to do, you must always hold on to that truth. I realize it's not much, but it's all
I can offer you. I hope it helps."
Altar of Freedom 4
New Dearborn, Ryde
Jade Falcon Occupation Zone
Fortress Republic (-18 days)
Ghost Knight Jayson Greene ran down the hallway of the research facility to where the infantryman stood with a group of men and women wearing knee-length white jackets. The infantryman wore the insignia of the Prin- cipes Guards; Greene assumed the people with him were the scientists. Greene was painfully aware that they had no time for delays. The situation was too fluid—fighting already had erupted outside the research center. The image of the downed Loki and of the decapitated Falcon Mech Warrior still burned in his memory.
"Sergeant, what's the damned issue here?"
The infantryman looked downright relieved to see him. "Sir Greene, these are the scientists we were sent to rescue. They won't get into the APC."
He glared at them. "You must leave now. Do what the sergeant orders. We have to get you out of here." He put every ounce of command he could muster into his voice.
"Now see here," an older man said. "Are you in charge of this fiasco? I'm Dr. Andrew Brunner. My peo- pie and I have no intention of just up and leaving our work."
"Dr. Brunner," Greene began anew, curbing his frustration. "I have been sent by the exarch himself to extract you from your current situation. The Jade Falcons are closing in around us. We don't have time for debate. You and your team have to leave, and leave now."
Another scientist spoke up, a female by her voice, though a test would have been warranted to confirm that she was indeed a woman, based on her appearance. "We won't leave without our families." Several of the others muttered and nodded in agreement.
Sir Greene quickly reviewed his options. He could have them dragged into the APC, but that would be messy and take time that he didn't want to spend. He cursed himself for not seriously considering that these men and women might not want to be rescued. It really limited his options for dealing with this.
He grasped Dr. Brunner's shoulder, looked him full in the face and lied. "Sir, we have already sent out teams to recover your families. We'll rendezvous with them when we reach the JumpShip. Right now, you need to move and move fast."
Brunner studied his face, as if trying to decide if he was telling the truth. The older researcher finally nodded. "Very well," he muttered, and started down the hall. The other scientists followed in line. The sergeant stopped in front of Greene.
"Tell Captain Paulis to get these people out of here.
FalJ back with all units. I have a few things to wrap up."
"All units, sir?"
"The mission comes first. Sergeant," was all he offered as an explanation.
"Sir, I'm not sure about leaving you here alone."
Greene flashed a smile. "I do my best work alone."
* * *
The Jade Falcon Dasher II rushed into the Veterans Park like a sprinting athlete. Its target was the Padilla, and it would close before the artillery piece could bring its massive firepower to bear. Lady Synd caught the movement from the corner of her eye and turned her Templar to face the threat. The Dasher II was going to be hard to hit, but the Fidelis had modified her Templar with an improved targeting system. Time to put it to a real-world test.
She used her joystick to center the targeting reticle on the Dasher and waited for the lock tone. Her pair of Defiance PPCs sounded a high-pitched whine as they fired, unleashing two streams of charged-particle energy downrange. The heat in her cockpit rose slightly from the discharge as the manmade lightning bolts both found their mark on the pumping legs of the Dasher. A rain of armor plating, smoke and a flicker of fire was the result. The Dasher missed a step, then another, then fell, sending a burst of laser fire into the Padilla as it dropped. It plowed a long furrow in the soft sod of Veterans Park, stopping just short of the Padilla. The artillery piece mounted a pair of Harpoon short-range missile racks and pumped both of them into the Dasher to make sure that it was down permanently. Gray smoke rose from holes in the thin back armor of the facedown BattleMech.
Synd let a smile rise to her face, but then she was hit by a shot from a Black Hawk. A withering sputter of crimson laser pulses stitched their way up her Templar's left side. Operating on pure instinct, she reversed her 'Mech, jogging backward far enough to allow her to get a good angle on the Falcon attacker.
They don't call me Mongoose for nothing . . .
The green-gray Falcon Black Hawk had come from the direction of the Rouge River; the fact that it had jump jets meant it simply had flown over the river, ignoring the missing bridges. It moved fast along the edge of the park, followed closely by two squads of Falcon elemental troops. The Falcons were living up to their fearsome reputation, and she wasn't sure just how long they would be able to hold off the defenders.
The elementals ran straight at her while the Black
Hawk slowed to a walk and attempted to obtain a target lock on her Templar. She stopped and jerked her own targeting system to lock onto the Hawk.
She fired simultaneously with hearing the target lock tone, using the pair of charged-particle cannons and both of her extended-range medium lasers. The heat in the cockpit spiked, and she felt like she was in a sauna. Her PPCs found their mark, but one of her lasers' emerald beams missed, slashing a long scar into the office building behind the Black Hawk. Flames lapped from one of the burned-out windows.
The hits rocked the Black Hawk backward, and it reeled as if it were going to fall. But the Falcon Mech- Warrior was made of stern stuff: He fought the impact that had seared and blackened the front of his 'Mech and rose back to a fighting stance. Then he fired.
The attack was the worst fear of any MechWarrior: an alpha strike. The Black Hawk fired everything it had, all six of its lasers at once. She lost sight of the enemy behind a barrage of death. The attack didn't just hit her Templar, it overwhelmed it like a
tidal surge. Her damage display flickered yellow in multiple areas, indicating the hits.
She staggered a step, fighting the damage and the heat. The elementals would be on her in a minute. Once the Jade Falcon pilot recovered from the devastating heat generated by an alpha strike, her problems would only get worse.
Suddenly she saw Fidelis jump jet troopers land on the overheated Black Hawk. It had to be Boyne. They seemed to engulf the 'Mech as it stood idle for a critical few seconds, steaming in the cool air, venting as much heat as possible in order to rejoin the fight.
Explosions from planted munitions went off at the knees, hips and head of the Black Hawk. Vulnerable as she was at the moment, some portion of her mind was impressed by the precision and speed at which the infantry moved. The Falcon MechWarrior activated his ejection seat; the canopy blew clear and he rose into the air, blasting away from the 'Mech. One of the Fidelis infantry rose on his or her jump jets in pursuit, firing as they went. A laser beam stabbed skyward at the ejection seat as it reached its apex. The parachute never opened. The chair dropped like a dead weight to the ground. As her infantry landed on the ground near the ejection seat, the Falcon elementals suddenly turned to face the threat to their rear. Lady Synd managed a few feeble steps in pursuit, but her Templar was still struggling against her control.
"Captain Boyne" was all she could say.
"We see them," he replied curtly.
The squads intermixed in mid-jump, the elemental troops of the Jade Falcons slamming into the jump-jet troops of the Fidelis. It was the most vicious battle that she had ever seen. Lasers and a flamer erupted in the air. It was impossible to tell who was who in the swarm as both sides dropped to the ground to continue the melee. Synd jabbed at her foot pedals and pushed the throttle forward. Her Templar slowly came back under her control. Each step was agonizingly slow. I have to save those men.
Even as she closed with the infantry battle, the fighting began to diminish. She saw one of her Fidelis troopers fall, cut nearly in half by an elemental. That elemental found himself under fire from three other troopers and was reduced to a mangled and half-melted slab of meat and metal. One of the Fidelis warriors pulled his sidearm from his hip and stabbed the barrel into the joint between another elemental warrior's helmet and suit. He fired. There was no chance of a miss. The head of the elemental was half torn, half peeled backward.
Surrender Your Dreams Page 12
