Fourth Vector Ch. 18

"And if they're spotted in those two days?" asked Henrik. "What then?"

"Then we pray the Occie channel fleet is too far away to respond. Based upon their movements, we're timing this for when they should be on their way back out to sea, in the direction of Aberdeen. That means by the time the invasion is actually happening, they should be at the furthest point from the invasion site."

There was nothing that agitated Bancroft more than having to rely on prayer and hope for an operation to succeed. Any commander will tell you it's not a good place to be in, and he certainly shared the sentiment. Yet, it was the only thing he had to work with at the current moment.

"I know someone asked about resupply," continued Bancroft, looking back at the map. "It will be tricky once they know we're there. However, my hope is that once they see the scale of this invasion, it will draw their forces back from Aberdeen. Perhaps enough that our own fleet can get out. If we can tangle with their fleet in a set-piece battle, we have a chance to tip the scales."

True to his intelligence, Admiral Kuntz opened up next. "I see a lot of hoping in this plan, Admiral. We don't have a lot going our way, and we have too many vulnerabilities. Do you think the emperor would hear out a plan to get our fleet out of Aberdeen first so we can better support an invasion force?"

Bancroft shook his head vehemently. "No, I do not. This was made quite clear to me. It's supported at all levels of the government and has approval by the generals. Gentlemen, hear me when I say that the navy is playing second fiddle to the army on this one. My objections were the same as yours when the plan was first brought to me but I was overridden. That's why we need to find a way to make this happen. Leadership seems to think that if we can get a force on Occitanian soil, we can end this stalemate of a war."

"And you, Admiral?" asked McKenzie. "What do you think?"

Bancroft took a deep breath and looked back to the map.I think the leadership of this country has lost their damn mind, he thought to himself.I think they deserve a bullet to the head and a shallow grave for running the country into the ground and permitting this war to stagnant. But I can't tell them that.

"Like I said already, I share your sentiments. I don't think this will end the war. I don't think the Occitanian army is so weak that two divisions will just walk right from their coast to the capital for a knockout blow. I think this is going to be more of a slog than anyone wants to admit. I also think this war is better off ended with a sea battle than one on land. But that's just me. I don't make the decisions here."Yet.

"I want you all to review the rest of your briefing report, and I want to have another meeting tomorrow to discuss our greater strategy. Take the evening to think about the task in front of us, and at tomorrow's meeting, I want concrete details from all of you at how we can do this while keeping the invasion force intact and in supply. I want the best from all of you, because you know what happens if we fail."

Bancroft didn't have to expand on that any further. They knew what failure meant for this mission.

It was to their credit that not one of them complained any further. They took their briefing, offered a salute, and left the room just like that. Bancroft had to be thankful for that reason alone. At this level, he dealt with true professionals. Even though they'd been given an impossible task, he knew the collective brainpower in this room would figure out a way to do this mission with such limited resources. It was the one thing he could count on above all others.

After all the admirals had left, Bancroft closed the door to their meeting room and locked it behind him. He had the only key to the room, and he wanted to maintain utmost secrecy about the task he'd just entailed for each of the men. For something of this size and scale to work, it was crucial they kept the details from leaking to the Occitanians. In the capital, that meant never knowing who might be listening or who might take the chance to snoop where they weren't supposed to be.

Bancroft wasn't much more than five steps down the hall when he stopped in his tracks. An idea hit him, so nefarious in purpose that he wondered why he didn't instantly dismiss it. Yet, he was still standing in his spot, letting the idea marinate inside his brain for several more seconds. He began to take a few steps back.

Bancroft produced the key to the room from his pocket and turned the lock, reentering his war room. The map of the northern coast of Java was still in front of him, as well as the marked locations of the staging point of the army. On one side, he had the ships that he had available to him while on the other, he had the ships that made up the Occitanian channel force that was likely to oppose his landing.

Even with the Occitanian battleships in the channel force, a head-to-head battle between them and theCharles IX would be a damn near even match. The ship was just that powerful and its range dwarfed that of the lesser enemy battleships. He couldn't hold the channel with just theCharles IX alone, and they would be at a heavy disadvantage in terms of cruisers. He would be hard-pressed to keep the route clear for the invasion force, especially once the enemy figured out they were there.

That's when the nefarious idea came back for a second visit. Why should he sacrifice his newest battleship and what remained of the fleet that wasn't bottled up in Aberdeen for a half-assed attempt at an invasion?

Why should he risk his own ships? Java had plenty of divisions in the army, over twenty-five of them. The loss of two divisions was a lot less threatening to Java than the loss of the only ships in home waters that weren't bottled up. Those ships were their only force that prevented an Occitanian invasion.

The central idea took hold in his mind.What if I let them sink the invasion force?

Bancroft shuddered at such a notion. For one, if it were traced back to him that he did something to intentionally jeopardize the invasion force, he wouldn't just lose his head. His family would die, his children, and his children's children all would die for that one transgression.

But what if they didn't know it was me? What if word leaked to the enemy through someone else? A scapegoat?

It was a dangerous line of thinking, a path that had no good ends. But if the emperor and the rest of the country watched the transport fleet get destroyed in the channel, maybe then they would understand the importance of the navy. Maybe then they would see that their fleet needed to break the blockade and get out of port.

Maybe then, they would see that Bancroft was right all along?

Yet, would he sacrifice his potential career, family, or the life of someone else as his scapegoat just to achieve a bit of recognition? Would Percival Bancroft stoop so low as to neglect his principles to accomplish his goals?

He studied the board one more time. There could only be one option for something of this magnitude. There would have to be a deliberate deception on his part for this to have a chance of working. Bancroft's eyes drifted to the one man's name he'd have to betray.

Sometimes you have to sacrifice a few good men to win a war.

His new plan taking form, Bancroft took careful notes on the positions of the enemy fleet and set about leaving the war room once more, locking the door behind him. His footsteps were heavy down the halls of the palace, back to the main open hall where his temporary headquarters was. He even passed by the crown prince's royal apartments, sneering as he did.

If only you knew what was on my mind, you would shit yourself, he thought, thinking of the corpulent prince.

As he sat back at his desk in the middle of the hall, he found himself humming a small tune as he worked away for the rest of the day.

The only thing that alarmed him was how easily he'd set himself to this path. Shouldn't he feel worse for what he was contemplating?

When Bancroft thought about where he was, any feelings of remorse failed to materialize.

His plan would continue.

*****

"Adalbert, will you pay attention for the love of fuck!" screeched Magda as she bashed her clipboard down hard on the surface in front of him. "That container has just spilled out onto the warehouse floor. Are you trying to get us all killed?"

Adalbert nearly jumped and turned his full attention back to the modestly-attractive woman. His scowl deepened instantly as he looked back to the upset container.

When did that happen, he wondered.

"Is it too much for you to supervise my warehouse or should I just sit you in the corner with the rest of the imbeciles and force you to count your toes?" hissed Magda as she rushed to cover her face to prevent the inhaling of the deadly germs.

Adalbert snarled. "I got it. I wasn't paying attention for one moment, and the container snagged on that railing. We'll get it cleaned up."

"I should hope so." Magda put her hands on her curvaceous hips. "This isn't Andalucia, Adalbert. This is the big leagues, and I won't have you or your likes ruining it for me!"

In the next few moments, fully suited Swabian workers were carefully righting the fallen container and placing the contents back inside. They did so with the utmost caution, making sure that none of the infectious cargo made any contact with their skin. So far, the entire operation had proceeded with minimal casualties since Adalbert arrived, and he hoped to keep it that way. Even if Magda thought he was mostly dead weight.

Once the container was back on its way to being loaded up for transfer to the Picard trader, Magda lost her scowl and approached him once more. "Once the merchant is gone, come to my office."

It wasn't so much a request as it was an order. Magda had been in charge here long enough that she was used to getting her way. It was a marked change of pace for Adalbert, who was so used to throwing his last name around and getting what he wanted.

Here, it counted for nothing.

Once the container was moved past the safe portion of the warehouse, and handed off to normal workers without bio-suits, it was loaded onto the vehicle of the Picard trader while the funds were exchanged. The trader left happily, no doubt excited at the below market value for the goods, but also completely oblivious to their deadly true purpose. Adalbert waved the man off as he left the warehouse, pulled his gloves off his hands and moved to Magda's small office near the main door.

She was sitting at the desk with a healthy stack of papers in front of her and a pen in her hand. She didn't look up when he entered, and hardly acknowledged his presence for the first several minutes. Adalbert thought about speaking in order to make her stop what she was doing, but he settled for clearing his throat, which only raised her eye to him after another moment.

"Trader gone?" she asked simply, as she returned to her work.

"Like you requested," he answered, finding it hard to control his annoyance. Just because she didn't think him worthwhile didn't mean he couldn't follow simple directions.

"Good," she said, continuing to write. As she did, he checked her out subtly. Magda was no classic beauty, but she was attractive in her own sort of way. By far her best feature was her lips, and Adalbert had a persistent dream about her putting those lips to use on his body.

It also meant she couldn't talk when using those lips on his organ, something he considered to be a win-win situation.

It wasn't something he imagined would ever take place. The look on Magda's face when her attention focused on him was a mix of disgust and annoyance. As much as he wanted to put those lips to good use, he figured it was a pipe dream at best.

Finally, she stopped writing and turned her attention back to him. "What happened with that container just a little bit ago? How did you let it overturn?"

He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "I told you, it snagged the railing as I was moving it. But we were able to get it upright with the full contents and over to the trader without any suspicions. It's fine."

"And if it wasn't fine? What if you infected one of the workers?" asked Magda with a raised eyebrow. "What if the Picard got suspicious? You know how they are right now, especially with the plague spreading through the city."

"As I said, it was a fine. Mistakes happen," he argued, his voice rising.

"I would've thought you'd have learned from your last mistake," snapped Magda.

They looked at each other with daggers in their eyes for several moments. Ultimately, it was pointless, and Adalbert turned his attention away from her. Magda was competent, and she had the trust of his cousin. As long as her star was rising, he couldn't afford to piss her off further.

"I'll do better next time," he grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

To his surprise, she smiled. "Good. Do you have the list of goods to be picked up tomorrow?"

He shook his head. "It's back in my office. Why?"

"I want us to start preparing for it now, so that the crates are ready to be moved. The less work we have to do in the morning means the sooner we can get those traders loaded up and moving out."

"Shouldn't we be wrapping this up soon? I mean, the plague has nearly shut down the city. Isn't this what we wanted to happen?"

Magda blinked at him several times. "What's your point?"

"My point is that we've done our job here. The Picards have caught the plague, just as we imagined they would after we infected all those goods with the plague being carried by those Nax slaves. It was a great plan, and the city seems to be on its knees. What's next?"

Magda pursed her lips. "What's next doesn't need to concern you right now. As far as I'm concerned, we're going nowhere. Lord Avila is paying good money to ensure that the Picards are so weakened by the plague that once the order comes to take over the city with all the soldiers we have smuggled in, we'll meet no resistance. Until that order comes, we are going to keep spreading these containers of infected goods far and wide."

Adalbert shrugged. "If you insist. I just thought there might be more to it than that."

"There is, for those smart enough to handle such details," she snapped again. "Leave those details to me, and you just do what I tell you."

For a moment, he nearly saw red. The only thing he wanted to do was repay her treatment of him with interest but he held his tongue and stayed his hand. It was another reminder of how far he'd fallen since the Andalucian debacle, and if he had any hopes of getting back on the good side of his cousin, he had to be Magda's willing lackey.

"I assume you didn't call me here just to chastise me about the container?" he asked, trying to change the subject. "So how can I be of service?"

Magda's eyes narrowed as she considered his question. It was asked with biting sarcasm, and part of him wondered if he'd gone too far.

Still, she decided to save the verbal tongue lashing.

For now.

"I need you to come with me to the palace. I have a meeting with King Aedan this morning."

Adalbert raised an eyebrow. "The king? That's a lofty request. To what purpose is my presence needed for?"

"Don't get cute," said Magda quickly. "This is a meeting for myself and Aedan only. You are to remain silent, and only speak when spoken to."

"Then why do you need me? If I'm so useless as to not be able to speak, what purpose could I serve?"

"I need your last name," answered Magda. "If I can parade a blood relation of our lord in front of the king, it will give more weight to my upcoming request."

"What request will that be?"

"You'll see when we get there," she said evasively.

"I can't very well be a good partner if you don't tell me what we're there for. Plus what if Aedan questions me alone? Then I'll have no idea about what our true purpose there will be," he argued. He made a good point, and the deepening scowl on Magda's face only proved his point. If he was stepping into the belly of the enemy, they had to be lockstep on their purpose.

Magda let out a heavy scoff. "Very well. This meeting will be used to get more trading permits. At least, we will be requesting them. Currently, we are only permitted to trade with a small segment of traders in the capital. Many of those traders aren't held in high esteem, but it was the price we had to pay for getting into the country in the first place. Now that we're here, I want to get permits to access the largest merchants, so our goods get further into the country and spread into the countryside. At our current rate, we are infecting the country too slowly for my liking."

Adalbert bit back a laugh. "Too slow? They have nearly a thousand new dead every single day. That's too slow for you?"

Magda gave him a pointed look. "This is a country of millions, Adalbert. So yes, thousands is too slow." The next look she gave him was slightly more terrifying, especially when he considered the deaths of so many innocents.

"Very well," he said with a quick nod. "When is our meeting?"

Magda looked at a clock. "In thirty minutes, which means we need to get going. Put on your robe and meet me back here in five minutes."

*****

Approximately ten minutes later, the two Swabians made their way from the industrial zone of the city to the palace of King Aedan. It was the first time that Adalbert had been beyond the commercial port they were located in, and it was an astounding first view of the city.

In other words, it was completely dead. Adalbert counted no more than twenty people filling the streets of the city as they made the walk to the palace, and many of them didn't stay out for long, keeping some form of coverage over their mouths.

In that area, Adalbert and Magda joined them, donning their own masks to further blend into the city.

"Is it always so empty out here?" he wondered out loud, as their footsteps echoed along the stone walkway.

"You should have seen it when I first arrived," said Magda. "Truly a teeming metropolis and full of people. Now? They are too afraid to go outside lest they come down with the plague as well."

Adalbert didn't respond to that, knowing that she expressed her wish not to discuss the plague in the streets of the city. The last thing Magda wanted was a slip of the tongue, or any revelation that they might be behind the outbreak in the city. He didn't push the line, and they walked quietly to the palace of Aedan.

And what a palace it was. Once they were past the residential sector, Adalbert nearly gasped at the size of the royal dwelling in front of him. It was nearly as large as the emperor's palace back in Swabia and even more grand. It was elegant in a way that Swabian architecture could never be, with shimmering white walls and large, raised frontal windows. The roof of the palace was dark-blue in color and sloped down steeply to meet the white walls in the front. It was carefully sectioned off from the rest of the populace by a large fence, and Adalbert could see the palace guards already monitoring the entrance.

"Here we go," whispered Magda as they got closer. "Remember to watch your tongue. Any slip-ups in here, and I'll make sure you regret it."

He was still too stunned to talk, and he mostly held his breath as they cleared the entrance and were shown to the grand meeting hall where they were to await the king. In front of them was a fine, long meeting table, and Adalbert took Magda's lead as he sat down beside her. They didn't have to wait for the king for very long.

"Magda! There you are. I'm positively delighted to see you again," boomed the voice of who could only be King Aedan as a furry, red-haired man walked into the room. Adalbert fought the urge to sneer.