Surrender Your Dreams

by Blaine Lee Pardoe

  Then it was over ... at least for a moment. The Jade Falcons were not just dead, they were disemboweled. A Fidelis trooper moved to each of his fallen comrades and seemed to press them hard in the upper shoulder. She didn't understand the gesture, but made a mental note to ask about it later. Smoke drifted over the small patch of grass where they had savaged one another.

  Synd had been a Knight of the Sphere for years. She had fought in many battles, and prided herself on maintaining a level of honor on the field. That was her duty as a knight. This battle, this mission—this was not honorable. This was war at its bloodiest. When he gave her the Fidelis, Redburn had given her a killing machine, and she had turned them loose. "Boyne."

  "We were successful, m'lady," Boyne replied. "We destroyed a handful of Falcons when the buildings fell. They have been forced onto secondary routes in order to approach the park."

  "The evacuation?"

  There was a pause. "Many lives were saved. Per your orders."

  Another voice came over the comm channel. "Lady Synd, this is Dagger Two." That would be Captain Paulis. Her tactical display showed that the Griffin he piloted was entering Veterans Park to the south of her position.

  "Go ahead, Dagger Two."

  "I've brought back the scientists, and they are secure," his winded voice replied. "Major Greene stayed behind to complete his objectives. He said you'd understand."

  He was going to copy the research data from the computer network there. "Did he stay alone?"

  "Yes, sir. I put a squad at the edge of the LZ to assist in his recovery if he runs into problems, per our plans."

  "And the scientists?"

  "They are boarding the Excelsior. The Falcons seem to have pulled back for now."

  Boyne cut in. "They have stopped coming at us piecemeal for a moment. This would suggest that they are concentrating their forces for a cohesive strike."

  Synd checked her sensors. There was no sign of Jade Falcon activity on short-range sensors. Long-range showed movement and possible fusion reactors just at the edge of her scanning range—which was about six blocks in the built-up city. From what she saw, Boyne was right. The initial attacks had been probing efforts with the forces they had in the vicinity. Now they were preparing for a real assault. Sensors indicated it would come from north of the park.

  "We will form up to the north, moving in to secure the first two blocks or so of the city on that side of the park. We need to hold them off long enough for Major Greene to rejoin us."

  There was a pause, then Paulis replied. "Lady Synd, we have recovered the scientists, which was our primary objective. . . ."

  She cut him off. "You have your orders. Captain." Giving orders and making them happen, however, were two distinct things.

  * * *

  The Jade Falcons came down on Veterans Park only twenty minutes after Lady Synd's force moved out of the park to seize the city blocks and buildings in the Falcons' path. The urban area was going to invite the worst kind of fighting: point-blank range, building to building. Making matters worse, the Falcons had arrived with enough firepower to ensure victory.

  Synd's Templar moved into the middle of a street— which one, she didn't know. Shots from a Gyrfalcon's autocannons rattled her 'Mech as she stepped forward. It was obvious that the Gyrfalcon Mech Warrior was unimpressed by the firepower coming down the boulevard at it. Artillery rounds from her Padilla landed everywhere around it and even on it, but the Gyrfalcon did not even flinch. It methodically moved closer as she stepped behind a building for cover.

  This new round of fighting had been raging for only a few minutes and already it had been costly. She looked down the street perpendicular to the approaching Falcon force and saw one of her Saxon APCs tipped on its side and belching clouds of black smoke. The roadway around it was torn up with gouges from missed gauss rifle rounds, leaving nasty furrows in the street. Dead bodies, her troops, lay nearby. Some had gotten away, far fewer than those who had died.

  "Lady Synd," Captain Paulis' voice sounded like he was screaming for a medic. "I have to fall back. My force has taken heavy losses."

  "Hold the line, Captain."

  "My 'Mech is coming apart at the seams, sir." He panted the words, at the edge of pleading with her.

  Boyne's voice cut in. "I have three squads here along with Lieutenant Argosy's Thunderbolt. Argosy can hold here and I'll bring my men to your position."

  "Infantry won't stand a chance. We have three Falcon 'Mechs and a tank coming down Maple Drive to the park. Anything entering that corridor is toast."

  "We will be there in five. Prepare to give us suppression fire." Boyne's voice was confident.

  "You'll be slaughtered. Captain."

  "We will do our duty."

  "Cut the chatter," Synd said, leaning out just enough to fire a blast from her PPCs down the street and into the Gyrfalcon. The azure blasts were aimed low, hitting the legs of the Falcon 'Mech and momentarily stopping its movement. "Boyne, no heroics. Do what you can. Paulis, give him covering fire when he needs it. We have to buy time for Major Greene."

  The building she was hiding behind rumbled and rocked, and she stepped away from it and back into the street. This Falcon MechWarrior was no fool. He was blasting her cover. "Remove the building and you remove the cover." Urban Warfare 101. I took that class as well, my friend. . . .

  She cut over to the next block and moved north. She would find an alley or street that cut back to the right and hit either his flank or rear. We have to buy Sir Greene time to complete his mission—that was her focus.

  But at what cost?

  Interpretation of Duty 1

  Training Facility Serpent

  Northern Mopelia Island, New Earth

  Prefecture X, Republic of the Sphere

  Fortress Republic (-83 days)

  "She's left?" barked Kristoff Erbe, Knight Errant of The Republic. "We never coordinated my end of the operation—she focused entirely on determining when I should arrive on Callison. She didn't brief me on her mission or operational objectives. We didn't even share communications protocol."

  "I understand that you find the situation frustrating," Damien Redburn replied. "Lady Hancock was allowed to use her own discretion regarding what she shared with you. I, however, am prepared to answer any of your questions that I can at this time." He leaned on the desk in a spare office that he had appropriated, tucked away in the Fidelis training facility.

  "Why all the cloak-and-dagger?" Erbe asked, his anger receding slightly. He wasn't really angry that Ghost Knight Hancock had left without letting him know; all her communication with him so far had been professional and to the point, and good-byes were for friends. What made him angry was that he was operating entirely in the dark, and he did blame her for that.

  "In the initial briefing I gave your group, I stated that the missions of the ghost knights would take priority over any other objective. Regrettably, revealing her orders to you would compromise the integrity of both missions. I can tell you that Lady Hancock spoke to me regarding her concerns about this mission at length and with great passion." Redburn's understatement almost made Erbe smile; even in his minimal interactions with the diminutive Hancock, it had been clear that she was feisty, and a tiger of a debater.

  Redburn continued. "The operation on Callison is important to our long-term future. I was recalled to duty by a message from Devlin Stone. In the accompanying documents, he indicated that Callison is more than it seems, and needed to remain loyal to The Republic throughout the Fortress period. Per his instructions, I worked with the ghost paladin to develop orders for Lady Hancock that will challenge her abilities, and test you as well. According to Stone, Callison offers us hope, Sir Erbe; remember that in the weeks to come."

  And hope is in small supply right now. "I feel that I'd be better prepared to be tested if I knew what I was up against."

  "I realize that, but your request is moot." Redburn walked around the desk and sat down. "Now then, if you want to discuss t
he parameters of your orders or any other aspect of your mission, I'd be happy to assist you."

  It was obvious that he wasn't going to get anything more from the former exarch—no, paladin. Erbe hated secrets, especially secrets that involved him. Fine. Best to play this out for what he could. "So why do you think that Callison is so important?"

  He was surprised at the half-shrug that Redburn gave him. "Callison is mostly unremarkable, except that it has managed so far to avoid being drawn into the recent turmoil. It has strong industry and a good garrison force that has succeeded in maintaining order.

  "I have pored over records looking for some sort of secret on the planet. There is no reference to a hidden stockpile of military hardware, but on Callison that is almost a moot point. It has a large industrial base that has already started converting to military armament production. There were two military bases that were decommissioned after the Jihad, but there was nothing remarkable about them, either."

  Redburn put his elbows on the desk and leaned forward as he continued. "Callison is a single jump from both the Lyran Commonwealth and the Marik-Stewart Commonwealth. That puts it in position to launch a rapid response if either side starts something that places the border in jeopardy."

  "That doesn't fully explain why Callison. My mission is to go there and recover a pair of completed DropShip engines and strip materiel from their militia. Your explanation also doesn't tell me whether my going there will reveal any of the planet's secrets."

  "You're right, it doesn't. For some parts of your mission, you simply have to remain in the dark."

  "So I'm asking again; why Callison?"

  Redburn grinned. "The true answer is simple. Callison is important because Devlin Stone said it was."

  "A holographic message recorded years ago tells you to go to a world, and you send in troops?"

  "A fair question, my good knight. To find your way on this mission, you'll have to embrace the concept of faith. I knew Devlin Stone." A broad grin erupted on his face as if he were embracing a fond memory. "If he says that Callison is of value, then it must be."

  "You place that much weight on faith?"

  "You of all people should understand faith. Faith is what we must rely on once Fortress Republic is put in place. When you look at that planet on the surface it seems ordinary. But a world is more than its resources. Look at the people; look at their leaders."

  Erbe bristled at the seemingly innocent comment. Was Redburn going to say it out loud? Was he going to bring his father, his family, into this? "What are you saying, Sir Redburn?" His voice sounded harsh, even to himself.

  The former exarch knew he had struck a nerve, and now he pressed on it. "One of the reasons I chose you for this assignment was your background and the history you've struggled with. For many years you have faced unspoken, invisible challenges and met them successfully."

  He had said it. The gauntlet had been tossed. Kristoff Erbe had faced this issue his whole life. His response rarely varied. "Don't judge me by what my father did or didn't do. I'm my own person. The sins of the father end with him."

  Redburn smiled in an attempt to ease the tension between them. "You were chosen for this mission because of your past, not your father's. You've struggled your whole life against an enemy you can't fight. I was merely pointing out that you have vast experience dealing with faith. Whether you know it or not, faith is what has helped you through those challenges. Given what is going to happen with Fortress Republic, that same faith will get you through these challenges as well."

  "Faith," he repeated thoughtfully. He had never thought of it that way. He believed his father had made some poor choices; his father's decision to deal with the Word of Blake during the Jihad had been controversial, to put it mildly. Kristoff Erbe had been fighting the ghost of his father's choices his whole life, and that fight had given him an inner strength. He never apologized for his father's actions, but he recognized that the taint touched him. Becoming a knight was one way he had found to begin purging that past. "As you obviously suspect, this is a difficult subject for me. Prejudices are hard to fight. People's perceptions are complicated when you ask them to recognize change. I am my own person. If you think it's faith that has driven me to separate myself from my family history, well—that's as good an explanation as any. I am not my father; I'm choosing my own path in life. Don't try to judge me by the actions or inactions he chose decades ago."

  Redburn simply nodded and moved on with the discussion. "Which leads me to discussing Governor Stewart." He paused.

  "I've read her intelligence file," Kristoff said, happy that the subject had changed. "Interesting woman." he said, indulging in a little understatement of his own.

  " 'Interesting' can be a virtue, Sir Erbe, but she's more than that. You've read the reports, so you know that she has begun to work with several crime families that operate on Callison and neighboring worlds. It appears that our good governor is hedging her bets on the future of The Republic. These families can provide Stewart with a significant power base."

  "The report on her indicates that she's ambitious, but there were no details of her plans."

  "A weakness of having our HPG network down— intelligence reports now are often fragmented and incomplete, so we aren't sure just what she's up to. But she demands careful watching when you land. She's obviously the kind of person who could take advantage of Fortress Republic to advance her own goals." Erbe had suspected the governor was a risk: Redburn was giving him the warning in plain language. "Perhaps it's a mistake for me to show up in force. I certainly shouldn't need much military force to recover two engines and remove some militia hardware, and landing with significant troops might tip our hand. Maybe I could go down alone and simply negotiate with her for what we need?"

  Redburn shook his head firmly. "Your orders stand. We can't afford for you to be taken hostage if the situation is too volatile or if the governor chooses to take advantage of Fortress. Besides, despite what people may think by the time you get there. The Republic still stands. Your showing up with a Republic force will help soothe any concerns of the local population."

  "These troops you've given me . . ." Kristoff seized the opportunity to discuss another concern. "The Fidelis appear to be very skilled at what they do and they're equipped with some of the best gear I've ever seen. But none of them have experienced real combat, and that could be a serious liability to the mission."

  Redburn smiled knowingly. "You should get to know them. The officer assigned you, Adamans, commands a battle group. He is one of the best of a superior force. Go somewhere neutral, spend some time with him. You will find that their lack of experience is offset by what they bring to the table."

  Erbe leaned back in his seat. Redburn was making a valid point. He didn't know the Fidelis, and he definitely didn't understand them. He had tried to crack their stoic exterior, but to no avail. He straightened his spine. "I will not fail you. I will make this work."

  "I believe you will," Redburn replied. "Callison is important; important enough for us all to try."

  Sir Erbe nodded. Callison is important because Devlin Stone said so.

  * * *

  They entered the building together, but Kristoff Erbe had his doubts. On the outside, the building didn't look like his idea of a bar. In fact, the island of Northern Mopelia had offered very little in the way of entertainment. But as he stepped into the dark room, he saw that it was a bar, of sorts. A bar as interpreted by the Fidelis.

  First of all, the air was clean. The Fidelis apparently didn't smoke, which Erbe actually appreciated. Second, the men and women inside were not typical bar patrons. To a man, they wore pristine military casuals, clean and pressed. He saw no half-drunken gazes as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Each patron acknowledged him with a respectful nod. and he returned the gesture.

  Adamans wore the rank of colonel on his epaulets; many of the Fidelis in the bar hoisted their drinks as if toasting him, as if acknowledging their pride in his affiliatio
n with The Republic. Adamans and Erbe slid into the chairs at a corner table. The bartender, obviously a veteran from his muscular stature and cropped hair, limped over to the table carrying two bottles. One leg seemed oddly large, and Erbe realized he had seen this condition before. The bartender had a budded limb, re- grown after the loss of the original limb. When the procedure was done poorly, as was clearly the case with the bartender, it left the patient deformed.

  The bottles were dark and cold, and he assumed they contained beer. He lifted his bottle and took a drink. It was beer alright, dark as night and so thick that it almost had a texture. When he swallowed, he immediately felt the alcohol hit his system. Like everything else about the Fidelis, these beers were not ordinary. He looked at the label; it was black with yellow letters spelling beer.

  "I'm glad you accepted my offer of a drink," he said to Adamans.

  The Fidelis officer took a swig of his own drink and nodded. He ran his hand through his short black hair and appeared to relax—as much as any of the Fidelis ever relaxed. "I appreciate the company. With all of the planning and training scheduled for the next few months, such an opportunity is rare and enjoyable."

  Erbe looked around the bar. There were no advertising posters. The place was clean, almost too clean. Other than being dark, it simply didn't feel at all like a bar. "I must admit, Adamans, I wasn't sure the Fidelis actually had bars and drank."

  The man chuckled—also a new experience for Erbe. "I assure you, Sir Erbe, we drink. Personally, I strive for moderation, as I have been known to be a nasty drunk. The Fidelis drink, we fornicate, we have children, we grow old. We are just like you—only different."