Surrender Your Dreams

by Blaine Lee Pardoe

  When she took on the role of Cheryl, that was who she became. The ghost knight was no longer Ceresco Hancock. Her thinking, responses, attitude—everything was now Cheryl Gunson. It took tremendous mental discipline to step into a role so fully.

  Other changes began to emerge in Cheryl Gunson. In a rare display of independence, she provided intelligence on a Lyran agent operating on Callison. Cheryl found no need to reveal that the information had come from the files of the ghost knights. The very public capture of the spy began to bring about the collapse of a network of agents on Callison, with new agents being uncovered almost weekly. Cheryl's work earned her the first of many promotions and the attention of Governor Stewart. who awarded her the Callison Medal of Freedom. In a few short months, she had risen from obscurity and gained the respect of a prominent political entity.

  Naturally, her manager chafed at her sudden rise. So she manufactured evidence that he was siphoning Directorate funds for personal use. It was easy, really—a few hours on the network, and she had cracked his bank accounts and moved the money. Cheryl Gunson, the Directorate ristar, uncovered the plot and informed the governor directly, wisely avoiding official channels. She had planted the evidence expertly, and her manager was soon being whisked off to jail.

  Thanks in part to Governor Stewart's influence and her own ingenuity, the shake-up of the Directorate of Internal Affairs put her in the top position in the space of a few months. Cheryl had achieved her goal, but it bothered her that it was so easy. Clearly, with the information to which every ghost knight had access, they could carve out a piece of any world for their own. So much power, and she had ignored it for so many years. It was painfully simple. It was seductive.

  Governor Allison Stewart was a formidable woman who had already sipped from the cup of power. Cheryl had studied her carefully. Her ties to the nearby Marik- Stewart Commonwealth ended with her last name: Any connections to her family in the Commonwealth were tenuous, at best. No, what made Allison Stewart so dangerous was her personal ambition and drive.

  The woman was only slightly taller that Cheryl, but wide. She was stocky, with a swimmer's muscular chest. Her legs were like stubby tree trunks. She did not possess the personal charisma most people would assume was required to hold her office. Her power came from within. Cheryl admired that aspect of the governor's personality: Stewart didn't rely on good looks to get ahead, but ruled by the authority she held.

  Standing in the alcove outside the governor's office was becoming a familiar occupation. The governor was in her office and Cheryl was on time—early, in fact. Governor Stewart always made her appointments cool their heels to remind them who was in charge. She also had lowered the guest chairs by a full inch, another way to remind visitors of their position.

  The administrator finally opened the door, a good ten minutes after the scheduled start time, allowing Cheryl to enter the office. It was an unexpectedly modest office. There was no paperwork on the desk, only a single flat monitor and well-disguised access to the government's network. The bookshelves in the room were made of rich Callison cherrywood and filled with countless books, many antiques. Cheryl wondered if they were for show, or if the governor actually read them. The floor was wood, accented by a round, deep blue rug with the seal of office woven into the center. She noticed that there were no elements of The Republic in the room. Those had all been carefully removed over time. She understood the message. The Republic ends at this door. Inside is only the intention of the governor.

  "Good to see you, Ms. Gunson," the governor greeted her, gesturing to the chair opposite her desk. Cheryl took the seat, sinking deep into the low leather seat. The governor returned to her own chair and leaned forward on the desk. She loomed over her guest.

  "I'll cut to the chase. You're my Director of Intelligence. What have you learned regarding the rumors we discussed last week?" the middle-aged woman asked.

  "Three JumpShips have passed through our system since we talked. I have interviewed the executive staff of each of them. The rumors we have been hearing seem to have validity. Numerous personnel changes are being made across The Republic, many being governors and legates. Units are being transferred from local militias to regular army units and are being relocated. Some militias are simply being stripped of their hardware and gear."

  "Relocated where?"

  "A variety of worlds," Cheryl replied, handing over her noteputer for the governor to review. "Ordinarily, troop movements like this are made in response to a full-blown invasion. That would make sense except that the enemies of The Republic seem to be the same that we've been facing for the past few years. The worlds they are being sent to are concentrated around Prefecture X, which does not indicate that they are expected to face a known enemy."

  Governor Stewart studied the report for a full minute in silence. She handed the noteputer back across the desk. "What is your interpretation of the data?"

  This was a delicate line for Cheryl to walk. She knew the truth, knew about Fortress Republic. Damien Redburn himself had revealed the plan to her and the other knights on New Earth. What her intelligence reports had uncovered was the preliminary groundwork to Fortress. Her gut clenched at the thought of telling Stewart what was really unfolding, because it was obvious that this woman had her own agenda and would use Cheryl's information for her own ends. On the other hand, if she played out this data correctly, Cheryl knew she could use it to get even closer to Stewart's inner circle.

  "In my opinion. The Republic appears to be circling its wagons. They may be hunkering down in Prefecture X in hope of making a last stand there."

  "Against whom?"

  "Does it matter?" she shrugged. "The Jade Falcons are pushing Skye around. The Draconis Combine is driving into The Republic. Even the Capellans are biting out chunks. Everyone is smelling blood and moving in for the kill. Perhaps this new exarch. Levin, plans on digging into Prefecture X."

  "And what about us? What about those of us who are not in Prefecture X?"

  "It's difficult to say what will happen to the rest of The Republic. I can only provide you with an educated guess of what may be happening. It is entirely possible that I am wrong." She said the words, but there was no conviction in her voice. For a moment, even she wasn't sure if it was Ceresco or Cheryl talking. She was suddenly terrified that her cover had slipped.

  "You don't think you're wrong though, do you?" Stewart probed.

  "No, Governor. I don't."

  "Are we at risk?"

  Always the people first. "Doubtful. The Marik- Stewart Commonwealth seems to have no interest in us. There have been signs of troop movements in the Lyran Commonwealth, but I doubt we are their target. Our prefecture is relatively quiet. I would say that for the time being, our risk is low from other powers."

  "You misunderstand my query. What is the risk of The Republic taking action in this prefecture?"

  She's very good. She's sensing opportunity. Time to show her just how smart I am. "It is difficult to guess at this point, but I believe that if we face a risk at all from

  The Republic, it would be from them coming to strip away our militia's hardware, and perhaps other materials they might need for the war effort." This was not a guess. She knew Sir Kristoff Erbe's orders in full. She knew why he was coming to Callison, and more importantly, she knew exactly when. But revealing that knowledge would tip her hand.

  "That could prove interesting," Stewart replied. The governor smiled a predatory grin. "Who knows," she continued. "Perhaps they will arrange a new assignment for our legate at the same time." It had become obvious over the last month or so that the governor and the legate were not seeing eye to eye. But Cheryl Gunson knew that change of command was not in the cards at the moment.

  "Yes, ma'am," was all that Cheryl Gunson replied.

  "I would like you to implement a new precautionary measure. I want you to intercept all communications from JumpShips arriving in our system. If there is a change coming to The Republic, I want to know about it
before the general public. I want to ensure that the message is properly explained to them."

  Translation: She wants to deliver her version of the message.

  "I understand, Governor," she replied. "This change will be implemented immediately."

  "You've proven quite insightful, Ms. Gunson. I appreciate your service and support."

  "My duty is to Callison, ma'am," she replied. It was not entirely a lie. Cheryl was following orders. Damien Redburn had told her that Callison was to play an important role in things to come. Callison was part of The Republic. Her duty was to Callison. But her orders were open to interpretation.

  I know I am doing the right thing. Why do I have so much doubt?

  Altar of Freedom 2

  Training Facility Lion

  Northern Mopelia Island, New Earth

  Prefecture X, Republic of the Sphere

  Fortress Republic (-38 days)

  As she had requested, the dinner table was set for a formal meal. This would be their last night in The Republic for God only knew how long, and as such the occasion deserved some recognition and respect. Synd had ordered a formal meal to be prepared for the rest of her troops as well, but this table was set for her and her command team. Tonight is our last night under these stars, perhaps forever.

  She had invited Paladin Redburn to join them, but he had politely declined. His own JumpShip was recharging and he was preparing to leave New Earth in a matter of hours. She had met with him privately, but only for a few minutes. His questions were focused on making sure she was ready for her mission; when Synd expressed her concerns, he gently redirected the conversation. When she tried to tell him the details of what she was going to have to do on Ryde, Redburn had responded only that she was to fulfill her orders in the best way possible with the resources at hand. It had hurt to hear him be so casual about the loss of innocent lives, but as he turned to go she saw the gleam of tears in the corners of his eyes.

  I am not the only one who knows that I'm being asked to do a great deal beyond the call of duty.

  Tonight would be the last time she could savor being inside what would become Fortress Republic. One quick jump, and they would be on the outside. While the rest of the Inner Sphere had no idea what was truly unfolding, Lady Synd understood the implications, and she hated knowing. The ignorant had nothing to fear. Knowing what was going to happen, the not-so-subtle changes that would take place, made her long to erase her own memories of the last month or so.

  She stood at the head of the table with her hands on the back of the tall cherrywood chair and surveyed the dinner settings. A white linen cloth embroidered with the logo of The Republic on each of the corners was perfectly pressed and hung precisely over the edges of the table. Two candles burned brightly, their lights flickering on the crystal water glasses and the polished silverware. The Fidelis appeared frugal and austere, but they understood the requirements for a formal dining experience.

  Captain Paulis came in first, followed by Boyne. Both wore gray dress uniforms. Paulis' was adorned with several campaign medals and the patch for the Tenth Prin- cipes Guards on his shoulder. In contrast, Boyne's uniform revealed nothing about him or his past. It was a blank slate, decorated with his acting rank of captain and nothing else. Synd smiled wryly when Sir Jayson Greene entered the room; his uniform was the same as Boyne's, showing only his acting rank. With a gesture, she invited them to sit, and silence reigned until the waiters came in and poured a crimson wine into their goblets, the filled glasses adding a burst of color to the table. The wine was from Terra, an obscure winery in western North America.

  Lady Synd broke the silence. "I have ordered a case of this wine to be taken to my DropShip."

  "In order to celebrate when we're done with the mission, m'lady?" Paulis asked.

  "No. Quite the opposite. We are leaving The Republic. In the months and years to come, we must remember what we have left behind. We will toast our friends and families, those we cannot be with, and those who have died along the way. This wine will be used to commemorate what we left behind and to salute the future." Her words set the tone for the intimate gathering. Optimism in its purest form.

  Crystal reached out and took her glass, gently swirling the wine, then lifted her glass in a toast. "To The Republic!" Sir Greene's face wore a faint smile. Boyne offered no change of expression. Paulis seemed happy that the silence had been broken. The men reached out and joined her in the toast. In unison they took a sip.

  "I appreciate the offer of dinner, Lady Synd," Captain Paulis began as the waiters again entered the room. Soup was carefully ladled out, with a slight clang of china being handled. He paused until the waiters departed, closing the doors behind them. "We finished getting the troops ready for departure at 0700."

  "Good. Because tonight is our last night in what will be known as Fortress Republic, I felt that dinner together was important. How often in life are you aware that you are facing an event of galactic historical significance? We do not know when or even if we will be back. We should reflect on that, and relax, if only for a few moments."

  Sir Greene stirred in his seat. "I prefer to think of this as a beginning, not an end. What we are doing is the best course of action. It has become impossible for The Republic to defend all its worlds. The exarch is doing the right thing by entrenching and defending the worlds we can defend."

  "To Exarch Levin," she said lifting her glass again. "And to Damien Redburn." She realized that adding the paladin sounded like an afterthought, but toasting Redburn was getting harder. She had spent the last week reviewing and re-reviewing the plan of battle. He is ordering me to lead my troops into death. The Falcons are not to be toyed with. He's assured me I'm doing something important for our future . . . but how can I be sure he's right?

  She turned to Boyne, who did not seem to be drinking much of the wine. "Captain Boyne, have you ever been outside of Prefecture X?"

  He shook his head. "No, Lady Synd. The Fidelis have been on New Earth since the Jihad. No exarch has recognized a threat to The Republic like that which we now face. We only go when called to serve."

  Paulis barely managed to keep from smiling. "Must be strange for you, never having actually fought in combat. Now you're leaving your home and shipping off to do some real fighting."

  "My father died in combat."

  "But there was no fighting on New Earth. What battle did he die in?"

  Boyne smiled in return. "Not all training exercises for Mech Warriors are performed using dummy ammunition. Part of our training requires life-fire experience. He was serving as a Lead Jager of the First Umbra when he was killed by a precision artillery barrage."

  Paulis had the grace to blush. "My apologies for your loss."

  "No apologies are required. He died doing his duty, training another generation of the Fidelis. I have been told that he was smiling when he died. I like to think that he would be proud of me going on this mission." For a moment, his expression changed, and he looked thoughtful.

  Synd decided to change to a less solemn subject. "Major Greene. Part of our mission is to convince the Jade Falcons that we are from the Lyran Commonwealth in hopes of increasing tensions between their two governments. You haven't told us your plans for achieving that."

  "Correct, m'lady. This deception requires no action until we are on the ground."

  "Will we be camouflaging our gear as Commonwealth equipment?"

  "That won't be necessary. No matter what we do, the Jade Falcons will assume that we are attempting to deceive them. We will remain marked as Republic of the Sphere units. Using open communications channels when we land, we will send out some prerecorded German commands. After we depart, they will analyze their intel data and assume that we were a Lyran troop disguised as a Republic of the Sphere unit. If that plan doesn't work, I have a few other tricks up my sleeve that will convince even the most hardened intelligence officer; we can use any of these ploys once we recover the scientists."

  Paulis shook his head. "
So we fool them by not fooling them at all?"

  "That's the plan."

  Boyne joined in. "I trust the squad you have chosen for your extraction of the scientists meets with your satisfaction, Major Greene?"

  A firm nod. "Yes. Their combat engineering skills are going to prove invaluable. Though I prefer to think of this as a rescue mission more than an extraction."

  "But they have not asked to be saved. To be a prisoner, you need to recognize that fact first, correct?" Synd wasn't sure, but she thought this might be a hint at Boyne's sense of humor.

  "The Falcons invaded Ryde. In my eyes, everyone there is a prisoner living under their rule," Greene responded.

  "I meant no offense, Major Greene. It is simply that in my people's past dealings with the Clans, we have learned that what is known and what is assumed are two different things."

  Greene tried to shift the focus of the conversation. "Your personnel in the unit are also proving quite talented, Captain Paulis." Paulis had no response. He only had two men in that squad, and he had let Synd know that they found working so closely with the Fidelis a little frustrating. The Fidelis were very efficient, but did not thrive on the camaraderie that Republic troops— that most troops—were accustomed to. It had been one of several friction points in integrating the Fidelis troops. The Fidelis, however, had not complained, not once. It was the regular forces that seemed to chafe at their presence. It would be easier to respond to the complaints if the Fidelis weren't so effective.

  They sipped their soup for a moment in silence, and the salads were delivered and they began eating them before the conversation picked up again. Greene launched a personal topic. "I don't have any family that I will be leaving behind. What about you. Lady Synd?"