Fourth Vector Ch. 13

Thankfully, George bowed his head slightly. "A blessing for the Javan people truly. Are you well? The doctors have kept us up to speed with your progress but nothing would make us more confident than to hear the words directly from you."

Bancroft nodded. "Every day has been better than the last. The first day was pure hell—not knowing what was going on or if I was dead or alive. But I'm progressing. At least, that's what they tell me. I don't think this broken arm is going to heal quickly though." Bancroft gestured to the sling that kept his arm tucked against his body.

George's eyes locked on it. "Fortune has favored you then to only have the broken arm. Many of our people died in that attack. My father and I are glad that it wasn't you amongst the dead."

"As am I glad to still be among the living. Tell me, how is His Imperial Majesty? I trust he is well?"

"As well as can be, and he's very much looking forward to the day that his number one naval leader can get fully back to his post," said George with a serious look.

"I've made arrangements to move me to the palace within the next day so I can begin working in an office again," said Bancroft. "If the temporary headquarters of the Admiralty will be there, then that's where I'm needed."

"Good," said George with a subtle nod. "Father will be delighted to hear that."

"Have we been able to launch a response on the Occitanians for their attack?" asked Bancroft before gesturing to his dispatches. "Nothing that's been given to me seems to indicate a plan for reprisals."

George shook his head. "Nothing of the sort has been planned. At the moment, all resources are being poured into the land forces for a possible invasion. Father does not wish to strike back using the navy."

Bancroft's mouth dropped open. "But surely that is the right thing to do, Your Highness? What other purpose are our steel bulwarks if not to defend our shores?"

George raised his chin. "Father believes our best defense is with the infantry. And I fully agree."

Bancroft held his gaze on the fat prince for a moment without responding. It wasn't an answer that surprised him. After all, the apple didn't fall far from the tree when it came to the crown prince, and he'd seen first hand what the emperor thought of prioritizing the navy. Yet part of him hoped that the small amount of sense that George had, which his father lacked, might persuade him to be useful to his purposes. Unfortunately, the crown prince's will was at odds with his own.

Bancroft's assumed piety took hold once again. He bowed his head gracefully. "The emperor knows best. Truly a father to all of us in spirit if not in blood. We'll do all we can with the limited resources at our disposal." Bancroft chose the last words as a subtle dig at the sovereign. Limited resources was like calling a skinny pig a feast.

"I'm told that it's not all as glum as it sounds though, Admiral," said George with a slight sneer. "I hear your men won a victory out by Quiller's Cove. The sinking of an Occitanian battleship. It seems you can make do withlimited resources."

Bancroft smiled. "We can always expect the forces of the Imperial Navy to do their utmost. That was an impressive victory because we won it despite being outnumbered and outgunned. The commander-in-chief of the task force, Rear Admiral Reynolds, is a talented officer."

"Yes, he is. And what of your other man? The one in the Fourth Vector? Jack Easterbrook? What is his status?"

"He has gained us an alliance for use against the Occitanians," said Bancroft with a stiff upper lip. "We can now count the land of Sorella as our foremost allies."

George started to chuckle. "As you say. Just don't ask anyone to find them on a map as I'm sure we'd all fail."

Bancroft's cheek flinched. "Commander Easterbrook's mission is proceeding according to plan. As we speak, he's on his way to another land where he's confident in securing another alliance. Soon enough, we will have enough reinforcements to help us overcome our traditional enemies."

"Not a moment too soon will it be, especially after the State Department received this just yesterday," said George as he procured a dispatch from his pocket. He handed it to Bancroft, and the admiral quickly scanned its contents.

"From the Ruthenians," gawked Bancroft. "Why, they are seeking to register a complaint about our fishermen poaching in their territorial waters. There are no Javans anywhere close to Ruthenian territory."

"No, there are not," answered George. "But this was expected one way or another. The Ruthenians are hoping to capitalize on our situation while our backs are turned dealing with the Occies. This is the first move. There will be other diplomatic complaints brought in soon in the coming weeks, I'm sure. All of them will escalate until they declare war. They wanted to wait until the Occitanians had our full attention before they plunged the dagger in our backs."

"They picked the most opportune time to do so. We have our hands full already," whispered Bancroft. "I don't think we can fight both of them at the same time."

"No, we will be crushed if we do. Which means we must put a speedy end to this war. That's why the army gets priority right now, Admiral. And that is why we mustn't haveany distractions from that priority." George gave him a knowing look, punctuated by a sneer that made Bancroft noticeably uncomfortable.

"No distractions," agreed Bancroft, hoping to turn the conversation away from the course it was heading. He was largely unsuccessful when George produced another dispatch from behind his back.

"Good, then we won't have any more mistakes like this one, will we?" asked George before depositing it in Bancroft's lap. The admiral paled instantly as soon as he saw which one it was, recognizing it as the order where he prioritized a shipment of steel to the ship manufacturers over the transport of the emperor's troops.

"This was a most unfortunate mistake that came out of the Admiralty," said George with a subtle tsk-tsk. "Because of this very order, a whole division was delayed a week from meeting at its assembly point while an entire trainload of steel was sent to the west coast manufacturers. As you know, Admiral, we don't need ships right now. We need soldiers. I'm curious how this mistake must have passed through your department without being corrected."

Bancroft hazarded a glance at the man, holding his look without flinching. He'd have to settle on the right lie, made even more difficult by keeping the gaze of the man he was lying to. Bancroft knew if his lie was discovered, he could lose his head over it. "It must have been one of the lower officers. Such a mistake like this could only have originated there knowing the emperor's priorities."

George sneered before he reached out to crumple the order. "As you say. You'll just have to make sure your officers don't get any further ideas about usurping my father's authority. Or they will be put in their place." He then leaned in closer to Bancroft. "Will you make sure that message is given to your entire department?"

It was clear that George knew the true author of the order, and he was now just toying with Bancroft. There was no doubt in his tone that the message was meant for him. The only question was if George knew, who else did? Could the emperor already know too?

"Of course, Your Highness," said Bancroft in a low voice. "I will make sure they are educated in proper protocol."

"Excellent," said George before leaning back away from him. "I knew I could count on you, Admiral."

"Who else has seen the mistaken order? Has anyone else gotten wind of it?"

George started to chuckle. "As luck should have it, I'm the only one that has seen this malfeasance. If you can promise me that this will be the last time, I see no reason to tell father about this. You and I both know the kind of stresses he's under right now, and he doesn't need to hear about treason within his own navy. Don't you agree?"

"Very much so," said Bancroft. "I think that's a wise course."

"I knew you'd agree," sneered George. "This is why you're the top man in the whole department, Bancroft. You've got a head on your shoulders and something tells me," he said while leaning in and losing the sneer, "you'd like to keep it there."

There were only so many veiled threats he could take in one day, especially from someone like the crown prince. Bancroft nearly snapped. "Is that a threat?"

"No, Admiral. It's merely a statement of fact," said George as he began to step away from the bed. "A simple fact. After all, you've worked so hard to stay in the world of the living that why make it all for nothing? You're a smart man, Admiral. Some would say you're too smart. However, I think it's long past time that you and I came to our own arrangement."

"And that arrangement is?" seethed Bancroft.

"That you now owe me. And one day, I will come to collect. Remember your place, Admiral. You do not run this government, and your voice is one of hundreds that decides the course of this country. Don't mistake your place as head of one department as the head of the entire Javan people. Greater men than you made the same mistake and paid for it with their lives. Don't be one of them."

"I'm fortunate then to have you here to tutor me on the nature of mistakes," said Bancroft acidly. "I'm grateful you decided to see me today."

"And don't forget tomorrow as well," said George as he leaned up against the doorframe. "And the day after that. And every day really until you get your Admiralty back. Because now you'll be spending your entire day in the imperial palace. Where we can keep a very close eye on your department in case we find the source of this wrongdoing. I think it will be a most delightful arrangement. For us," said George with one final tilt of the head.

"I'm looking forward to all the extra time spent in your company," said Bancroft behind gritted teeth.

"As am I, Admiral. As am I. Get well soon, and we'll see you at the palace in a day or so."

Just like that, the crown prince was gone. Bancroft resisted the urge to throw something as soon as he was out of earshot. The glass of water next to his bed looked like a particularly tempting target as did the cap of his uniform. He stopped fighting the urge to react and let loose, tossing the items against the wall in front of him. The glass shattered with a loud noise, immediately drawing a nurse in to try to calm him down. It was of no use.

The audacity of that man to come into his own hospital room and make veiled threats was outstanding. Crown prince or not, Bancroft was one of the only men who could protect Java from invasions, and here he was being treated like a two-bit thief whose hand had just been snatched from the cookie jar. It was completely infuriating.

For so long, Bancroft had looked at the emperor and his weak mind as his primary adversary. It was a battle he was comfortable to fight, knowing his deficiencies and the best places to strike from the shadows. Yet, now he was confronted by the arrival of a new, more deadly adversary. One who had already caught him in his crosshairs and wasn't afraid to let him know. The crown prince was more stealthy than he gave him credit for—more so than you would assume by looking at his corpulent face.

Yet George had now made it known that he would oppose him. And in that moment, he truly became an enemy. That was fine for him and as soon as he calmed down, he realized it was now better to have an enemy out in the open than one hiding behind the curtain. His moves from henceforth would take more caution and would need more planning. Getting caught a second time would not let him be nearly so lucky.

The only question left for him was how to turn the tables on the man who was so ready to play fox with him. How could Bancroft become the fox once more? A small smile started to fill the admiral's face. All it would take was a little more planning.

He would make the crown prince beg for his life for daring to threaten him. He just needed a little bit of time.

*****

They never saw them coming.

Jack supposed that was the point of attacking at night, but there were usually several distinct telltales of an impending attack. Usually a concentration of force at a predetermined striking point was the obvious giveaway. In other times, it could be a pullback of forces to give the impression of weakness before the attack. He'd even heard that rising noise levels could signal an attack, the result of thousands of warriors mentally psyching themselves up for battle.

The attack that evening had none of those signs. It had only been three days since they'd left the fortress city of Septhada after their meeting with High Clan King Vertulis. A meeting that hadn't gone so well. The result of that meeting was the convergence of even more clans, forcing their ragged band of Javans,Muthada, andNumratha warriors back to the coast.

It was all Jack could do to keep the enemy clans from surrounding him. His forces were beset on three sides as they moved toward the coast, hoping to set up a defensive perimeter that could maintain their tenuous foothold on the island while he thought of a way to rescue Kat. Yet as each new day went by and their enemies multiplied, the plan to secure her release was losing steam. He hated to think that way, but the realist inside him had to contend with the facts. There were simply too many Andalucians who were trying to kill them.

Especially in this fight. Blasts of gunfire rang out along their northern defenses as the middle of the line was pressed southwards toward the coast. Those first few bouts of gunfire were scattered and infrequent, a sure sign that whomever had attacked the line had done so with careful disguise. As Jack and Greg led a mobile relief column to the scene of the action, the gunfire picked up with steady frequency.

As soon as they were at the front, chaos reigned all around them. Black-robbedSciavo were the main attacking force, the first time the slave hunters of Andalucia pressed in an attack on them. For Jack, it was an obvious sign—Vertulis was now fully committed to pushing them out of the country.

TheSciavo had overwhelmed the first defensive trench, a mixed line ofNumratha warriors and Javan marines that were all now long since dead, their corpses hanging over the mounds of dirt without animation. In front of them, theSciavo rushed to fill the trench, their bows firing rapidly in the night at short distances. It was what made the attack so deadly. There was no time to hide once the arrows flew nor any way to see it in the darkness. Men died with no warning, falling where they once stood.

It was a mad way to attack during nightfall, but then again theSciavo were the warrior elite of Andalucia. If anyone could manage the fickle weapon in such conditions, it was them. And that was only until they got within range of their long, wicked-looking swords. TheSciavo moved too quickly for their bows alone, resorting to the swords when they had closed with the enemy. The blade was dual-sided, designed in such a way to hurt more coming out than going in. Judging by the screams of all the men nearby, it was achieving that purpose.

What was even worse was the second line ofSciavo that had mopped up the survivors of the first wave. This more coordinated band of attackers grabbed the men that were still wounded and pulled them back across enemy lines, many of those wounded still screaming as they were pulled to certain death by their ankles. Jack watched helplessly as several marines, as well as a majority ofNumratha, were dragged off by the vicious attackers, no doubt to suffer in their final moments.

"Push them back! Give it everything you've got," yelled Greg as the reinforcements set their position just beyond a low-rising hill and began to fire off sudden bursts into the dark-robed figures. The fiery blasts from the muzzles had a way of lighting up the area, showing them more of the deadly battlefield in front of them. The sheer number ofSciavo was daunting—the Andalucians always preferring to attack in waves and hoping to finish their enemies with their wicked swords.

While the Javans formed another defensive line, the remains of theNumratha at the front had pulled off to one side, retreating to a safer position within which to reform themselves. After creating what appeared to be a mass of men, they once more launched themselves into the fray, their bows twanging in the night as they fell upon theSciavo's left flank.

The effect was terrifying for the remainingSciavo in the front ranks. The sudden onrush ofNumratha warriors cut them off from their escape route and forced them to concentrate their attention on their ranks, opening their backs to the Javan rifles. It was a terrible mistake that many of them wouldn't live to rectify. Accurate fire poured into their unguarded backs as they wavered for the first time that evening, their attack clearly in jeopardy.

"Jack, let's give them the bayonet," said Greg as he grabbed the small piece of steel attached to the underside of the NT-12. "We can push them back further."

Jack nodded and gestured to the rest of the men. "You heard the major! Fix bayonets!"

Around them, the twenty other Javan marines stopped firing long enough to fix that steel piece to the barrel of their rifle, only resuming their steady fire once it was ready to go. Jack gave the nod to Greg and the major blew a short whistle to announce the start of their attack.

"Charge, men!"

The marines were on their feet in one smooth motion, and they soon picked up momentum as they began to descend down the hill only to come crashing into the backs of theSciavo, most of them too preoccupied with trying to push theNumratha out of their flank.

It was an absolute bloodbath once they'd closed the distance. The sound of steel sliding into flesh and screams of agony filled the air as the gunfire died off completely. The Javans moved forward like night wraiths, sticking their enemies just enough to get them to their knees before moving onto their next targets.

Jack had long lost count of how manySciavo had been speared in front of him, only noticing that his entire bayonet was covered with the remains of tissue and blood as he pushed the last of theSciavo back across the original line.

The attack that had begun with so much promise was now destroyed as the dark-robed warriors sought to keep their only foothold in the camp. Yet, they wouldn't surrender. No matter how far they were pushed back, not one of them raised their hands nor sank to their knees willingly. Even as the odds turned against them, they kept attacking and attacking until their numbers dwindled to nothing.

"They don't know when to give up, do they?" said Greg as he sliced his way through another man.

All too soon, the attack was over only because there remained not a singleSciavo left able to fight. The entire attacking battalion had been killed or wounded, many of them lying motionless on the ground around them. While a small portion of them gave off moans of agony, the majority of the wounded were still either Javan orNumratha, many of them struggling to pull away from the trench for greater safety.

In total, another eight Javans were dead and around sixtyNumratha. As Greg organized a new defensive line, Jack pulled back those that were still wounded, arranging for their transport back to the main camp. It was an arduous affair, not only getting them on makeshift stretchers but also deciding whose life was worth saving. Many of those wounded wouldn't live out the night, their injuries so grievous that they would die from blood loss in only a matter of time. Those that they could save were mostly those that had been struck by arrows. The wicked swords of theSciavo left too severe wounds to possibly be capable of staying alive.