Cheryl sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose, realized that it didn't matter whose plan it had been. Ultimately, it didn't matter who paid whom to shoot whom. It didn't matter that the lives of innocent and not-so-innocent people were destroyed. What I've done, I've done as part of my orders. What I've done was necessary for the survival of The Republic. She repeated those two phrases like a mantra, but it did nothing to soothe her headache.
Her screen beeped twice, indicating a priority call. She sat up in her chair, her eyes burning and her face deeply lined with fatigue. She activated the monitor, and the image of Governor Stewart appeared. The portly woman's face revealed no emotion as she stared at her director of internal affairs.
"The incident at the barracks was unfortunate." If her words were recorded, they would not reveal her own involvement. Many hands are bloodied that were never at the barracks.
"I was in the area when the riot began and saw the tragedy for myself," Cheryl said, choosing her words equally carefully.
"It is unfortunate that Legate Leif was killed in the fighting, but we must feel glad that his was the only fatality." The governor sounded neither sad nor happy.
"The police have restored order, and already my people are looking into this event."
"Which is as it should be, Cheryl. I appreciate your attention to detail today. I always reward people for showing initiative, and I value your actions."
Valued actions. The words swam in her head. "I only did what was necessary. Governor" . . . for the survival of The Republic. "Nothing more, nothing less."
Overture 3
New Earth
Prefecture X, Republic of the Sphere
Fortress Republic (-91 days)
The room was just as Damien Redburn remembered it—eclectic. Most people would have described it as a museum rather than a greeting chamber. It was a domed room with white walls broken up into pielike segments by deep arches made of some dark wood. The high ceiling created the sense of a churchlike space. There were a few unmatched chairs, each one distinct enough to mark it as an artifact of some sort. The back of one was emblazoned with the up-thrust fist of the Lyran Commonwealth. On the walls were war trophies, many of which would evoke memories of anger and hate in any viewer.
There were battle standards, flags taken from command 'Mechs or vehicles. Many bore the symbol of the Word of Blake. A bent and mangled sword bearing the emblem of the Federated Suns hung above a pristine dress dirk marked with old paint that was distinctly Ca- pellan. A battle kilt. Black Watch Pattern Number 2, hung with distinction in a case, bloodstains still showing on its fringe. There was a piece of a 'Mech, a chunk of torn and blasted torso armor, that bore the painted emblem of the Star League, the Cameron Star. In a small wall case were the codexes of several Clan warriors, obviously wrenched from them in battle. There was a burned banner taken from a Word of Blake reeducation camp mounted under glass on one of the wall segments. The words on it were eerie: truth through understanding. That was the last thing the Word of Blake had been interested in, understanding. It was signed by the warriors who had recovered it—or had they raided the camp, or had they lived there and been rescued? Redburn didn't remember the details of the story as he had been told before.
Given the past of the Fidelis, he knew he shouldn't have been surprised to see the artifacts of the Jihad and times previous. The Fidelis had been through a lot, more than nearly any other people. They had a right to this room, their greeting chamber, as a memory to that proud past. Stone had struck a dangerous bargain with them, and now Redburn knew the time had come for him to collect on it.
The custos of the Fidelis came into the room slowly. He had a limp that had gotten worse since the last time Redburn had visited him. The custos wore a black military uniform strained by the massive frame it covered. His head was bald, eliminating the gray hairs that Redburn remembered in his sideburns last time they had talked. One eye was gone, replaced with a metallic socket and bionic replacement. The same with one arm. It appeared roughly human, but the color of the skin no longer matched the wearer. The custos wore a cape as well, black with a gray lining. Behind him walked an aide-de-camp with noteputer in hand. The other officer seemed dwarfed by the leader of the Fidelis.
He reached out and shook Damien's hand. The former exarch felt as if his hand were dwarfed in his host's grip. "It pleases me that you have come to see us again. Exarch Redburn." His voice was deep and did not betray his age. "On behalf of my people, I tell you we are honored."
Redburn bowed his head in respect. "I am no longer the exarch, Custos."
"I know a new man holds that mantle," the man in black replied. "But there is no such thing as a former exarch in my mind. The title is yours for life, at least in my eyes."
Damien allowed himself a smile. "I appreciate that. I'm pleased to see that you stay current with the affairs of The Republic outside your sanctuary here." He waved his hand to indicate the room but symbolically spoke of the entire island where the Fidelis lived. It had been given to them by Devlin Stone. New Earth had been hit early in the Jihad by a bioweapon that had killed hundreds of thousands; afterward, no one wanted to live on Mopelia Island. It had cities, factories, farms, ports— everything needed to support a culture, but the ghosts of that bioweapon struck fear in the citizens of New Earth. The island had proven a safe place for the Fidelis. They could live there and take advantage of a massive infrastructure and not bother with the rest of the world.
The Custos offered a wide smile. "That is how I know you have not come on a social visit. But where are my manners? Would you like something to drink? As I recall, you prefer tea. If matters are what I think they are, you may ask for something stronger. Northwind Scotch, perhaps?" His aide stepped forward, but Redburn waved him off.
"I appreciate the offer, Custos," he replied. "As with so many things lately, time is of the essence. To be blunt, I am here on the authority of Exarch Levin to formally request the assistance of the Fidelis." Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a datacube and offered it to the custos.
"If that is a confirmation of your orders from Exarch Levin, I do not need to see it."
Redburn withdrew the cube, and his host continued.
"You would not lie about such a thing. No man would dare." He chuckled, and Damien understood. To cross the Fidelis was to toss one's life away. "If you say the exarch needs us, then it is so."
Redburn knew their past and was always caught off guard by their trust in him. After what they have been through, you would think he'd demand an audience with Levin to confirm. This was the famed resolve of the Fidelis, that bond to The Republic that even he could not fully comprehend.
"What I am asking for is a great deal." Redburn phrased his words carefully.
"We are bound to our oath. Our lives are forfeit if necessary to fulfill our destiny. Tell me what you need and you will have it."
"Troops and equipment," Redburn said without hesitation. "The exarch has assigned me a role in which I will be commanding several knights on missions to ensure the long-term safety of The Republic. I am in need of combined-arms special operations forces that can integrate with loyal Republic troops. They will operate with little logistical support in a wide range of theaters of combat."
The custos' single human eye widened in excitement, as if he wanted to go himself, but the gentle tug of the years restrained his enthusiasm. "The Fidelis are suited to these missions. As you know, our warriors train first as technicians, then they are elevated to infantry and eventually to armored infantry operations. Our next level is the Jagers, vehicle operations. They are trained to perform every role in a crew and gain experience on a wide range of vehicles. Only then are they trained as MechWarriors. Then they may take assignment anywhere in the Century."
"Century?"
"Our Century is our one hundred best warriors plus their augmenting trainees. We always have a Century ready for service to The Republic. The Century consists of two Battlegroups, consisting of thre
e Umbras each."
"Your organizational structure is different from the Republic ranks."
The custos waved his beefy hand as if to dispel the concern. "We will adapt. Adaptation is something the Fidelis understand and embrace. Indeed, it is the ability to change to fit the environment that has allowed us to survive as a people. An Umbra is similar to a Company of 'Mech forces and combined arms. It will not be an issue."
Redburn understood the comment. Stone had told him the history of the Fidelis, and he appreciated the metamorphosis they had endured to remain a cohesive collective. A part of him wished he could have shared the story of the Fidelis with Jonah Levin, but he knew that would have been the wrong choice. Levin might be hesitant to use these people, given that past. It was best that he didn't know the full truth.
"We will need the appropriate hardware and DropShips as well, Custos," he said.
"We are fully equipped. However, you must understand that Fidelis warriors personally configure even their sidearms. Most of our BattleMechs have been highly modified to fit each warrior's fighting style and skills. Such is the nature of special forces. If you can advise me regarding the types of missions you are planning, I can ensure you get an equipment mix that meets your needs."
Redburn pulled out a noteputer and handed it to the custos. On the previous occasion when he had visited the Fidelis, he had been given a tour of their facilities. Their 'Mech and vehicle assembly plants were small but achieved an unsurpassed level of quality. He assumed Stone had given them access to technology and tools that had been demilitarized elsewhere. It makes you wonder what other capabilities they have.
The hulking figure of the custos carefully read through The Republic's requirements, his bionic eye narrowing as if he were concentrating a beam on the noteputer. The Fidelis leader poked at the controls to scroll down.
"I see," he muttered, handing it back, to Redburn. "It appears that The Republic is entering a time of change."
"Our strategic goal is to keep our would-be enemies focused elsewhere for awhile," Damien answered.
"Admirable," he replied. Turning, the custos motioned for his aide-de-camp to come forward. The aide stood firmly at attention next to the towering custos. "The Venator Battlegroup is most likely the best choice for these operations. Contact Group Commander Adamans immediately and tell him to begin mobilization of his forces. I will bring him the details when I'm done here." The aide clicked his heels in salute, bowed slightly and left the room.
"There is more," Redburn said cautiously.
"Of course," the custos replied, as if he already anticipated the request.
"I know that you have a WarShip in storage. The exarch has need of it. He gave me a set of coordinates where the ship can go to receive its assignment."
"The Flatus is a significant asset. You would not have asked if times did not demand it. Very well. Provide me with the coordinates, and I will have her reactivated and readied."
"I thank you, Custos," Redburn said, bowing his head again. "There is more, though, something that exceeds the requests I have made for hardware. This is about the people. It is something I cannot tell you in detail but must make you aware of to the extent I can."
"You have piqued my curiosity," the massive man replied. "That is no small achievement. Tell me more."
"Times are about to change in The Republic," Redburn said carefully. He and Levin had covered the details for Fortress Republic in detail. A decision had been made about how much he could tell the leader of the Fidelis. He would have to be vague; a core competency of a politician.
"The troops that go with us will suffer losses. Circumstances may arise where it is impossible for me to have them rejoin your community here. I wanted to tell you this before you assigned troops to these missions."
"For some of my officers, this will not be an issue. Family is more of an abstract concept to them. Only the Fidelis are true family. I will meet with Adamans and ensure that those who go are strong enough to withstand separation from us. This does, however, open another point. So far, you are my only contact with The Republic. If you cannot return to us, how will I continue to serve the exarch?"
"I have told Exarch Levin about you, but nothing of your origins. I have told him where you are and given him some of the security protocols necessary to contact you. If he has need for you in the future, he will contact you directly."
The custos held his chin in thought for a moment. "We have only met twice before, but I have come to know you as a friend. From what you say, you will not be returning. This, then, is good-bye, is it not?"
Redburn recognized the farewells that he carried and spread like a plague carrier. He had seen that message in the faces of the knights he commanded. Fortress Republic has that effect on people.
"I'd like to think we'll see each other again, but I believe that will not be the case," he said. "The changes coming to The Republic are dramatic." It was an understatement—another political skill Redburn found himself tapping.
"I am old," the custos said. "Some might say beyond my years. I have seen good men and women come and go. I should be numb to it. In my youth, I was. I sent many good fighters to their death, and at the time was proud of my actions. I will miss you, Damien Redburn. You inherited a nightmare in the offing and came through with dignity. I will miss you."
Redburn felt his face tinge red. "I am glad to be here now. I'm glad that I'm the one who has set you on your path to freedom. When the Fidelis complete this task. you are free of your bond to The Republic. The past will be buried once and for all. Ever since Stone told rne of the ordeal of your people, I hoped secretly that I would get this chance. I just wish it hadn't come at such a price."
"My people will be able to step into the light. That is all I live for," he said, with conviction that seemed to come from his very bones. "Our bond is still in place. Our duty is to protect The Republic, and we will do this, even if it is to the last man or woman. The Fidelis will fulfill the destiny of the Black Book. My people will one day achieve that for which we were created." He reached out and again took the hand of the former exarch.
"You are setting us on the path to freedom. I thank you."
BOOK 2
Exarch Jonah Levin's Address to the
Citizens of The Republic
1 October 3135
In the past few years. The Republic has been on a slow, steady slide toward the edge of an abyss. The catalyst for this slide was the loss of the hyperpulse generator network, and thus the loss of interstellar communications—lifeblood to any star-spanning nation.
Chaos, created by the Blackout, was compounded by our own fears, our prejudices and especially by our greed. Weaknesses we thought we had vanquished. Weaknesses we deceived ourselves into believing could ever be eliminated from human nature.
During this time of trials and tribulations, we have all witnessed the best and worst that everyone—anyone, citizen or resident, peerage or proletariat—had to offer. We found greatness. And frailty. We discovered new allies, new enemies and the depth of our own resolve to take a new and stronger hand in our own lives, our futures and our destinies.
And if there was a failure, it was our failure. The failure of those of us entrusted to safeguard Devlin Stone's great legacy.
And now. And now . . .
There is nothing more to say, nothing more to endeavor, that we have not said or attempted in the last ten months. So it is with great sorrow but firm resolve that we put to you, the people of the Republic of the Sphere, that the time has come for drastic and irrevocable action.
To save what we can for the future.
With this goal, by the authority vested in me as exarch of the Republic of the Sphere, in accordance with the War Powers Act of 3082 and the Emergency Powers and Crisis Management Amendment of 3107, I have committed this nation to the following course:
First: Prefecture X is expanded, by decree, to include worlds on the list appended to this transmission. These worlds will sever immedia
tely all economic and political ties to their former prefectures. World governors and military legates of these newly attached systems will consider themselves under the direct control of Terra and the exarch or his appointed representative.
Second: All military forces able to be safely recalled and mustered for the ensured survival of The Republic have been relocated within the borders of Prefecture X and will not be forward-deployed until such time as is deemed appropriate.
Third: Following this final address, there will be no further contact, by transmission or transport, between Prefecture X and any outside world or power. This self- imposed interdiction will be enforced by the most severe military means necessary.
Fourth and last: Full faith and sovereignty of the Republic of the Sphere is now invested solely within Prefecture X. All other prefectures are released to the full and sovereign control of their people, to decide for themselves how best to weather the coming storms.
These commands, by design and effect, do hereby constitute a New Republic Territory, under the direct and complete aegis of Terra.
And formally dissolve the Republic of the Sphere.
I cannot help, in this dark and uncertain time, but to think of what we all have lost. To imagine the terrible and far-reaching consequences of this day's actions. But there is nothing more we can do, for now, except to pray that we may yet persevere and preserve the light that has guided us for so long; to hold onto the faith that has carried us so far.
The Republic was more than a dream of Utopia. It was an ideal. One which we were challenged to live up to each and every day. That bright fire may have been reduced to a guttering flame, but it shall never be extinguished. And the fire shall return! The Republic may be absent for a time, but know this and remember it well: We are all Keepers of the Flame.
Surrender Your Dreams Page 17
