"Like I planned it," she muttered faintly as the infantry dragged her behind the Mars and into their custody.
* * *
"I hope you can give me a reason why I should not hold you for treason." Kristoff Erbe kept his voice just below a shout. He stood in a corner of the weakly lit room off the main part of the warehouse, looming over Ceresco Hancock. He could hear the anger in his voice, and he wanted to make sure she heard it, too. What he wanted even more was an explanation.
She shifted. Her hands were bound behind her, and she sat in a small wooden chair that had been scrounged for her interrogation. Kristoff had ordered everyone out of the room except for Adamans. At this point, he trusted the Fidelis officer more than his fellow knight.
Despite her bruises and a little rough handling, the ghost knight did not appear to be mentally shaken by her situation. In fact, she seemed almost pleased to be captured, and that irritated him. "I think treason is a little strong, Sir Erbe. True, I fired on Republic troops, but only in pursuit of my mission objectives."
"Bah!" he cursed as he paced in front of her. "You have been using your secret mission as a shield since we met. Tell me your orders, so I can judge if you are a traitor or not."
"You know I can't do that. And while you may not believe this, I took my 'Mech out into the street today in hopes of reaching you. You don't really think I'm stupid enough to tangle with a Mars in a frigging Hellion, do you?"
He had to admit it wasn't a very bright move, but deception was part and parcel of the ghost knight's life, and he didn't know what to believe. "I don't know what your motivations are. That's the root of the problem here. You tell me that you are loyal to the Republic, but at the same time you are leading an attack against us."
She frowned. "If you hadn't been so stubborn as to drive on this warehouse, we could have resolved this whole thing with only a few shots being fired. You were supposed to fall back to the spaceport. And as for my leading the attacks against you, I'll have you know it takes a lot to manipulate a leader as shifty as Governor Stewart into putting me in charge of the fight." He heard a note of pride in her voice, but that didn't make sense.
"You are killing people you are sworn to protect."
"If I wanted to wipe you out, I could have. I wouldn't have provided you with the schematics of the streets or even the location of your precious DropShip engines. I could have kept all of that from you. I could have used my knowledge of the city against you. If I were a traitor to The Republic, I would have used the sewer system to kill or capture you. I didn't. Grow up, Kristoff. You of all people know that what people think isn't what's important. What matters is what's true."
"What do you mean by that?" he demanded.
"You know what I mean," she said in a low tone.
"If you are trying to judge me by the actions of a man I hardly knew, you are making a huge mistake."
"Why do you think you were chosen for this mission? Did you really think this assignment was so simple as to land on Callison and pick up some DropShip engines and military hardware? I spent time with Redburn before this mission. I know that Callison is important to the future of The Republic: Devlin Stone said so. I'm going to make whatever that is possible. For that to happen, you have to trust me."
He stared at her. "You certainly don't make it easy."
"I never do," she said in a confessional tone. "Regardless—you have to trust me. or a lot more people are going to be hurt and Callison will be cut off from The Republic for years to come."
Kristoff considered what she was saying. Her words made sense from a certain point of view. At the same time, the image of her in the Hellion cockpit filled his vision. He was angry; at himself, at her, at Damien Redburn for putting him in this situation. What can I do? Who can I trust? Knights were not supposed to take up arms against fellow knights. His universe was changing too much with Fortress Republic. He wondered how many other, similar choices were being made throughout The Republic at this moment. How many of those decisions were going to be wrong?
He studied her face. Levin, Redburn and the ghost paladin had chosen her. They trusted her. They chose him to work in conjunction with her. They obviously knew something he didn't. He realized, if he couldn't trust his leaders, the leaders of The Republic, then the Republic was already dead. She might betray him, but he could not betray himself or the oath that he had taken. It was that oath, that knighthood, that his mind embraced as he stared into her eyes.
He moved behind her and cut the straps binding her wrists. She rubbed her hands and stood up. "What changed your mind?"
He hadn't been sure until she asked him. "I'm a Knight of the Sphere. If I can't trust another knight, then The Republic has ceased to exist—and I refuse to believe that, not yet."
"Me either." She offered him her hand, and he shook it without hesitation. "Here's the situation. The governor has ordered a full-on assault. I want to reduce the risk of casualties as much as possible, so I'm going to need your troops to hold back. The last thing we need is more dead."
"I'd offer to surrender, but I doubt that would be favorably received."
He saw the answer in her face. "The governor expects me to obliterate your force. She wants your annihilation to stand as proof that The Republic is dead. No survivors, no hostages, no prisoners." Her words rang ominously in his ears.
"What a bitch!"
"Trust me, you don't know the half of it." She gave him a flat grin.
"We could launch a breakout. With you in command of the road to the spaceport, you could feign the defense and pull back. We could reach our DropShips."
"It won't work. We've placed mines and set ambush points all the way to the spaceport. No offense—I know you're a good MechWarrior, but you wouldn't stand a chance."
"So what do you want?"
"Fall back. Make us work for the ground we have to take. I can't order my troops to pull their punches: They will do their best to root you out because that is what the governor has ordered. I can mitigate some of that, but damned little. Understand this, however; I am not going to fulfill the governor's orders. What she has asked me to do is wrong. I have to put up a fight, but it's just to buy me time."
"Time for what?"
"Time to strike. My mission is left to a fairly broad interpretation. I need an audience with the governor, and the fastest way to get that is to continue fighting and tell her I need to update her on the situation."
"Then what?" he pressed.
She hesitated. "I'll do what 1 have to." Kristoff knew that no amount of probing would make her reveal anything more. Very well. He wrapped himself in the veil of her trust.
"Adamans." he said, turning to the man standing in the shadows.
"Yes, Sir Erbe?"
"I trust that your troops can get her through the lines so that it will look as if she escaped."
"We can."
Erbe turned back to Ceresco. "I was going to punch you in the face when I learned you had betrayed us. I just thought you should know."
She straightened to her full height, a head shorter than him, and gave him a coy smile. "I would have done worse to you if the roles were reversed. I tend to be a kick-in-the-groin kind of lighter." Her face became sober. "I will need to show that I got away, and that it wasn't easy. The last thing I need at this stage of the game is for the governor to question my loyalty to her."
"What are you saying?"
"Take your best shot. Sir Erbe. God knows I earned it."
Nothing was said between them after that. His knuckles throbbed as Adamans helped her up and toward the door.
* * *
As a mortar round went off just a few buildings up, both Adamans and Lady Hancock ducked. A layer of dust from the building next to them drifted down and coated them like fine snow. The Fidelis warrior held his assault rifle at the ready, covering their progress.
"We're in position," he said, pressing flat against the building. "Your forces are just across the street. I've ordered my troops to
hold their fire so that you can make a break for your lines."
She eyed the Fidelis trooper. One side of her face pulsed with pain from the punch she had taken. He had watched her as they moved through the warehouse district, but had said nothing, offered no interpretation of events. Adamans was a closed book to her, as were all the Fidelis. She had left New Earth without getting to know them. The only thing she knew for sure was that they were incredible fighters. They had caught her Light Horse forces off guard in nearly every encounter.
"No guarantee that my own troops won't fire on me," she muttered, surveying the street ahead.
"We all must assume some risks. Sir Erbe assumed a risk in letting you go. I believe you are capable of assuming a few yourself."
"What about you? What do you think of all of this?"
Adamans kept his focus on the street, on the rooftops, on the sounds of battle nearby, the popping of gunfire in the distance. "I don't trust you, but I don't know you. My duty does not always allow me to question such things."
"You're hiding behind words."
He turned and made eye contact with her. "You are correct."
"So why didn't you say something to Erbe?"
His icy stare cut deep. "It is not my place. My people learned their place a long time ago. We came to understand who we are by what we lost. Now we understand."
"Where are your people from?" she said, leaning toward him.
"Your nightmares," he replied with a sinister grin. "And if you have lied to Sir Erbe, sleep carefully knowing that the Fidelis will avenge him."
She knew beyond a doubt that his words were not an idle threat.
Altar of Freedom 5
New Dearborn, Ryde
Jade Falcon Occupation Zone
Fortress Republic (-18 days)
"Whats that lunatic doing?" barked Paulis.
She stepped over the shattered, still smoldering remains of the Gyrfalcon she had managed to enfilade by moving through the confining New Dearborn streets. The Gyrfalcon had been moving methodically up the street in pursuit of her forces when she came down a narrow alley at its side. The buildings and infrastructure had masked her signature. The Falcon had gone down hard, in the process putting three good volleys into her Templar. Her attacks, combined with a barrage from one of her tanks, forced the Gyrfalcon to finally succumb.
"Who?"
"Boyne. He charged up Georgia Avenue with a lance of infantry. Those bloody damn Fidelis troops are following him to their deaths. He's heading right smack into the Falcons."
You've answered your own question. She checked her sensors and could barely make out the IFF transponders of her units and those of the advancing Falcons, even a short distance away. Captain Paulis was right, though.
Boyne was charging into the center of the Jade Falcon force. Fidelis or not, this was a bold move that would result in a bloody engagement. In fact, he had almost no chance of surviving. She refrained from vocalizing any of her thoughts.
"He's buying us all time," was all she said.
"They'll be wiped out," Paulis countered. "We need to fall back to the DropShips and use them for cover."
It wasn't that she hadn't thought about that. The turrets of the Aurora-class ships would offer a nice umbrella of fire, but retreating now would surely prevent Sir Greene from linking up with them. Boyne was doing what was necessary; he was doing his duty. If they fought alone, his force would die, and that was not right. When I became a knight I promised to defend The Republic. This is another opportunity to live up to that oath.
Boyne wouldn't die alone . . . not if she had any say in it.
"Form up on me. We'll go up to—" She checked her tactical display. "Thirteenth Street and cut over. That should bring us out right where he's at. If he can hold on long enough, we can reinforce him."
"M'lady . . ."
There wasn't time for argument, so Synd aimed for Paulis' ego. "Captain Paulis," she said sharply. "Captain Boyne understands his duty. If you're afraid to fight, you should surrender now and hope that the Falcons are taking bondsmen today." Anger rang in her voice.
"Whatever is left of Strike lance, form on me and move up to Thirteenth Street," Paulis ordered after a moment of silence, bitterness evident in his voice. Lady Synd had no way of knowing whether she or Boyne had shamed him into continuing to fight. In the end, it didn't matter. She wasn't proud of what she'd done, but she was pleased with the results.
She had to buy time for Sir Greene. Damien Redburn had made it clear that the objectives of the ghost knights took precedence in these operations. Greene had a mission to do, and her job was to ensure that he had the time to get it done. She wanted to signal him to hurry up, but she assumed that by now the Falcons would be monitoring their communications channels and could track him down.
Hurry, Jayson. Time is running out. A Morgan tank appeared on her flank as she moved down the street and rounded the corner onto Thirteenth. Three blocks down, the gates of hell were opening up.
* * *
Sir Greene pushed the office chair back from the monitor, rolled a meter or so. and then popped to his feet. The cube in his hand held the data that the Falcons had been researching. They would have backups and techniques to recover the data he erased, that much was sure. What they wouldn't have was the scientists to replicate the work or to warn the Falcons about the viruses that he had planted in their network to corrupt the backup data over time, eventually damaging all of it.
He had seen the data as it dumped to the cube: images, research papers, schematics and so on. He was not an engineer or scientist, but he knew a space defense system when he saw one. And this material had an extra element that he found disturbing: It appeared that the Jade Falcons were looking at the technology of automated space drones—leveraging a design that the Word of Blake had used in the Jihad. At this point in the game what they were doing was pure research, but the potential scenarios were scary, nonetheless. What he found even more disturbing was that The Republic would go to such lengths to obtain these scientists and their data. Are we willing to taint ourselves to leverage something the blasted Word of Blake was so eager to use?
He stuffed the cube into his pocket and secured the flap so that it wouldn't fall out. Reaching into another pocket, he pulled out a button and tossed it on the floor in a conspicuous location. A uniform button from the Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces; specifically, one of their elite strike forces. The Falcon Watch would comb the research facility carefully, looking for any intel about the attack force. On the surface, everything would point to the Republic of the Sphere. That would be too easy. Digging deeper, they would find little bits of evidence that pointed to the Lyran Commonwealth. The Falcons would certainly find that to be more logical. Hopefully, their frustration would turn against their old foe rather than The Republic.
Greene checked his chronometer and winced. Damn. It had taken much longer than he had expected. Until this moment, he had deliberately ignored the time and focused on his tasks. Now, time was everything. He wondered if he was going to be able to make it back to the DropShips—or if the DropShips were even still there. There was only one way to find out. He began to run down the hall of the research facility. It was a long way to Veterans Park.
* * *
A Jade Falcon JESIII missile platform skidded to a stop and fired a second later. The missiles, nothing more than streaks of twisting gray smoke, hit the side and rear of her Templar with a sickening roar, like a thunderstorm breaking loose. Lady Synd heard metal tear away and the moaning of her Templar's internal structure. The sound sent a chill down her spine and made her teeth throb. She fought the impact and managed to keep her 'Mech upright—barely.
One of her ATV squads, consisting of Fidelis and Republic troops, opened up on the JES, giving it just enough punishment to make it back around the corner in hopes of blocking line of sight. The Fidelis had tricked-out the ATVs, modifying some with a single flight of long-range missiles, others with portable camouflage gear. . . . Hop
efully the changes were just enough to confuse the Falcons' sensors. A pristine Falcon Phoenix Hawk stepped up to take its place. Its brilliant emerald paint made it look like a deadly stalking predator.
The ATV squad sped off after the JES, but the Hawk wanted nothing to do with them ... it was after her. Hoisting its arm-mounted laser, it aimed and fired before she could move. The brilliant green beam sliced like a hot knife through butter, slashing at her already mangled torso armor plating. A glob of molten armor splattered onto her cockpit canopy and sizzled as it melted into place. There was no way she could ignore it.
But she did.
She focused on the Phoenix Hawk. Synd had one working PPC; the one on the left side had been turned to a mangled and twisted chunk of salvage by a missile barrage a few minutes earlier. The targeting reticle seemed to light her efforts; either the battlecomputer was straining from damage or the heat, or the weapon system itself was damaged. It didn't matter. She had to make this work.
As the reticle drifted over the Hawk she fired, not waiting for a weapons lock tone. She felt her cockpit temperature spike again as the cobalt beam of charged particles stabbed at the Jade Falcon. The beam tore a gash from the shoulder blade of the 'Mech and traveled upward, hitting the cockpit and an overhanging portion of the jump jets mounted on the rear of the Hawk. A trio of short-range missiles from one of her squads slammed into the Jade Falcon as well, hitting the legs and leaving black circles where they had pitted the armor. Not so pristine anymore.
The Falcon MechWarrior was obviously unimpressed. He fired his jump jets and headed straight at her. The narrow street, now lined with burning civilian hovercars, restricted her movement to forward and backward. Synd attempted to move her 'Mech backward but hit something; she wasn't sure what.
The Phoenix Hawk came down on her from an awkward angle. Death from above was like that. On holovid shows it was neat and clean: In real life, it was a dangerous move that was as risky for the MechWarrior executing it as for the victim.
Surrender Your Dreams Page 23
