Fourth Vector Ch. 19

"Colonies, sire?" asked Bancroft with a deep set expression of confusion. "What do you mean?"

Charles looked at the list and began to read off names. "These places that your man Easterbrook has taken. Sorella and Andalucia? Correct?"

Bancroft gave him a look of acknowledgment. "Ah, you mean the alliances. Easterbrook's mission has been to make alliances with those countries, not colonies."

Charles gave him a leering smile. "Colonies or allies, whatever you want to call it."

Bancroft raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I'm not understanding you."

"Really, Bancroft, how can you be this dense? Did you really think I was going to hold some spear-wielding, half-naked savages as full allies of the Javan Empire?" Charles gave out a hearty laugh, so hearty that it caused him to cough at the end of it. "They are not on equal footing with us."

"I would hardly call them savages at this point," said Bancroft. "Based upon Jack's reports, they are fairly advanced."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," mocked Charles. "Muskets and sailing ships? Is that better?"

Bancroft didn't answer, waiting instead for the emperor to resume speaking.

"I don't care who or what they are but I'm a little surprised by you Bancroft. Surely you didn't think we would make real allies out of these people?"

"What other reason would we have for creating the mission then?"

"For resources!" roared Charles, his anger back in full force. "For men, for supplies, for anything that they can send to us! These aren't true alliances, Bancroft. These countries are to be our colonies, the first outposts of the great Javan Empire that now spans both sides of the oceans!"

"I highly doubt they will see it that way. Especially considering that hasn't been Easterbrook's message to them. They will think they are full partners."

"Then we should show them how wrong they are," said Charles with a leer. "And if they resist or try to back out, then we will show them the full might of Javan power."

Bancroft raised his chin. "So what are your orders then, sire?"

"There are several trading ships out in Quiller's Cove, as you no doubt know. I want you to send a battalion of marines with each ship, and have them land on these islands that Easterbrook has pacified. Have them bring back food, clothing, technology that might be useful, or warriors if it's deemed proficient. Anything that can support our war effort."

"Who is to lead such an operation?" asked Bancroft. "Easterbrook?"

Charles shook his head quickly. "Let him keep finding new colonies for us. He's proven to be remarkably good at it. No, I've already set up papers for the viceroys of these new islands, in charge of their exploitation. Here, this contains all the details." Charles pushed a heavy binder of information into his hands. "I suggest you familiarize yourself with those details. I want you to run this."

"Do I need to tell Easterbrook? Should I have him change his messaging?"

Charles shrugged. "Why bother?"

"Because it may harm our mission if these people expect to be full allies with us but instead find themselves conquered and made into colonies for our benefit."

"And your point is?" asked Charles without blinking. "Such is life, Bancroft. The strong rule the weak, and I'm not concerned with what a bunch of savages think about our imperial policy."

Bancroft let out a deep breath. "It still might be considerably harder than—"

Charles raised his hand again. "I don't want to hear any more protests from you. Get it done, Bancroft or I'll find someone else who can. This has been the whole purpose of this expedition. Besides, I doubt the savages will be that surprised. It's not like they can compete with the Occitanians or even the Ruthenians for our attention. Surely once they've seen the might of Javan power, they will know they can't stand on equal footing with us. They might even come willingly." Charles let out another heavy laugh.

We'll see about that, thought Bancroft.This may change everything.

*****

"Commodore Lucas, a new dispatch has just arrived for you from the Admiralty."

Lucas raised his head to look at his able lieutenant, pausing the work in front of him. "What is it this time, Lt. Settler? How does Bancroft want to make my life miserabletoday?"

Settler passed the dispatch into his own outstretched hand. "See for yourself. It looks like the new arrivals will be departing Quiller's shortly for the Vector."

Lucas quickly scanned the note. Like many of the messages from Bancroft, he had to read it three times just to make sure he fully understood it.

"Colonies?" asked Lucas rhetorically. "Since when are these islands to be considered colonies?"

"It doesn't seem like the message minces words," pointed out Settler. "But I too thought these countries were to be more treated like allies, rather than colonies."

"I wonder if Jack Easterbrook has a copy of this. I'm sure this would be enough to make him heated," said Lucas.

"Regardless of what we think about it, it's not for us to protest, right? Orders are orders."

Lucas nodded his head reluctantly. "I suppose so. Although this very order might end up undoing a lot of Jack's work. Very well, send the order out to the new arrivals. We also need to direct that each of them receive a marine battalion."

"I'll send the message over to the barracks," said Settler. "I'm sure they'll be ready to depart quickly since they haven't had a chance to settle in yet."

"Good man, lieutenant, good man," said Lucas. "Let me know if you run into any trouble."

Lucas barely had a moment to resume his work as Settler left the room and a new arrival stepped in. This one was Rear Admiral Nick Reynolds, the commander of the local Task Force 49. Reynolds had remained at Quiller's Cove after much of his command was striped of its forces and sent to reinforce Jack in the Vector, however, it proved to be a wise decision. There had scarcely been a single mention of the enemy since that day, and Reynolds' forces languished on endless patrols around the island.

Today though, the look on Reynolds' face was one of hopeful exuberance as he strolled to the front of Lucas' desk. "I just got word from the Admiralty," said Reynolds while sitting down.

"So have we. It appears the Admiralty has been busy this morning," replied Lucas.

"And I imagine they're about to be much busier. They've recalled me back to Java," said Reynolds with a grin.

"So . . . good news, I take it?"

Reynolds nodded. "As well as more than half of my command. You're just going to be left with a few frigates for protection. You know what this means, right?"

Lucas shook his head.

"They are mustering forces. They must be trying to break the blockade! There's no other reason to bring in such a significant force to the mainland! We're finally going to break the back of Occitanian power."

Lucas sat back and massaged his chin. "That would be an interesting development indeed. And long since overdue. I don't know how they can go a single day seeing their proudest ships collecting rust in port at Aberdeen. I'm surprised it's taken them this long."

"You know what else this means? I'm sure my command isn't the only one being striped to make this happen," said Reynolds with a smug smile. "I bet you Easterbrook's will be striped of ships as well. The ships he stole at least."

Lucas shifted uncomfortable in his seat, remembering the role he played in getting those extra warships over to his command. Luckily for himself (and unluckily for Jack), Reynolds placed a good portion of the blame on the fair-haired commodore for the loss of those ships. Lucas knew better than to correct the man, but he did feel the guilt at putting the enmity on Jack's plate.

"Maybe now we can finally tilt the balance of this war," said Lucas offhandedly.

"I'd say we're long since overdue on that particular matter," said Reynolds with a grin. "Who knows, maybe I'll even get the command of one of the squadrons during that battle. I'd love to have a chance to get some more real action in before this war is over."

"I'm sure you'll get your chance. No doubt there's a reason why you're being recalled back to Java too."

Reynolds smiled and then stood up from his desk. "Well, I have a lot of things to get ready before we depart. But I just wanted to share the good news. Things are finally looking up."

"Maybe even for myself?" suggested Lucas. "Maybe I might get an order to come back to Java too?"

Reynolds started to laugh. "I don't think that Bancroft's generosity will extend all the way back to you. But here's to hoping."

Lucas resisted the urge to chuckle and instead only nodded as Reynolds left his quarters.How quickly the status quo changes. And yet with all the changes, I'm still exiled here in Quiller's. I'll never see my home again.

With a quick shake of his head, Lucas got back to work. Lingering on those thoughts never did any good. He'd come to accept his fate a long time ago, and if that meant being the old commodore of Quiller's Cove, so be it.

At least out here on this rock, he could be the one in charge.

Even if it wasn't by choice.

*****

Those last two weeks before the invasion flew by more quickly than anyone could have imagined, and the day before the big event kicked off, Bancroft found himself in his new headquarters in the city of Lockhaven. He'd only arrived there two nights before, taking the train from Belfort, but already he didn't want to leave. Even though the headquarters was spartan, drab, and outdated by about forty years, it was a massive upgrade compared to being under the microscope of the royal family at all times.

If he thought he'd be able to get away with it, he might have just stayed in Lockhaven, much preferring the secluded bay to the rigors of the capital. Yet, Bancroft knew that wouldn't go down well with the emperor, and he could very well see him sending his portly son to bring him back to the center of degeneracy.

Bancroft let out a low sigh. He'd just have to enjoy his time here while he had the chance.

He was lucky in that regard as his headquarters looked out over the bay of the city, where up until yesterday, he had a view of the stunning array of Javan transport ships. The many multitudes of ships of various sizes and shapes had departed the port yesterday morning in preparation for their rendezvous at the invasion site, where they would quickly pick up their human cargo and get them across the channel.

Next to the transport ships had been Vice Admiral Henrik's task force, made up of the stunning new battleship,Charles IX, and tasked with keeping the invasion fleet safe during the voyage up the channel. At this very moment, both forces neared the invasion force, and Bancroft just waited on word of the transport fleet arriving on the northern coast.

Bancroft checked his watch. It should be within the next thirty minutes as long as they were still on schedule. From there, as long as the enemy remained out of sight, he would give the order to load the ships, starting a chain of events that, once started, would be next to impossible to reverse.

He only wished he could be closer to the action, if only to watch the great new battleship perform. As long as the Occitanian naval force didn't materialize, the battleship was under orders to pummel the enemy coast, softening it up for the eventual landing. Bancroft could only grin at the thought of those sixteen-inch guns opening up against the enemy for the first time.

What a magnificent sight it would be, he thought.

"Admiral Bancroft, this dispatch just arrived," said his deputy, Rear Admiral Clark. "The transport fleet has arrived at the coast."

"Excellent," replied Bancroft. "Ahead of schedule. Things are looking up."

"I told Henrik to keep moving up the channel so he can act as a first warning beacon in case the Occitanian force appears."

"Great work, Clark. With any luck, we just might be able to make this half-baked plan work."

Clark grinned before getting back to work. For the next two hours, Bancroft received continual updates as the ships docked at the temporary jetties, only good for one use and only to be rolled out at the arrival of the transport fleet to maintain secrecy from the Occitanians. Once the ships were docked, the soldiers would be loaded up during the night hours, taking their positions aboard the ship for the short jaunt over to the Occitanian coast.

As the evening progressed, it was almost looking like it might be too easy. There were no sightings of the enemy, and as long as that held throughout the night, there was no way the Occitanians could possibly intercept the invasion force before they dropped the men on the coast. The worst case scenario at this point was the endless gloating he was bound to be in for once the royal family and the army found out about their successful sneaky move. That was one thing he'd never hear the end of.

"Admiral, this just arrived," said a startled Clark near ten o'clock, when most of the headquarters was starting to slow down for the night. He handed another message to Bancroft, his hands starting to shake.

ATTN: FLEET ADMIRAL PERCIVAL BANCROFT

AN OCCITANIAN FORCE HAS BEEN SPOTTED AT MY POSITION HEADED DUE WEST. THEY ARE GOING TO GO NORTHWEST AROUND THE BARRIER ISLAND, PUTTING THEM IN POSITION TO STRIKE AGAINST THE INVASION FORCE. POSITION ANY SHIPS YOU HAVE TO INTERCEPT. AT LEAST THREE BATTLESHIPS AND SEVERAL CRUISERS WITH THEM.

COMMANDER WESTON LANDERS

COMMANDER, FORT BELVAR

"Shit," swore Bancroft, rereading the message over again. His good luck had abruptly ended. Any force with battleships was enough to be an existential danger to the invasion force. If they were close enough to Barrier Island, they could definitely strike at the force by morning.

Bancroft grabbed the nearest map of the channel and studied it. The first thing he did was find Barrier Island, the small island that existed partway between Java and Occitania. It had been dredged on either side, so that large warships could go down either passage of the island without getting stuck.

Based upon the sentry's report, the Occitanian force was headed due west, which meant it was likely to take the smaller northwest passage closest to Occitania. It was the least likely course for a larger task force, simply because the larger southeast passage had more room for larger warships.

The issue that this caused was that Henrik's force was currently making its way up the southeast passage while the Occitanian force, if this message could be believed, was going down the northwest passage. They would never meet in the middle as the island would prevent them from sighting each other. It also meant the Occitanian force would be able to insert itself in-between the Javan forces.

Bancroft got up from his desk and began to pace around the room. This was the critical threat that he'd warned the emperor and his son about. This was the very reason why they needed their ships freed from Aberdeen to provide the kind of protection they needed.

The admiral began to swear uncontrollably. He'd warned them after all! He told them the idea was idiotic, and it wouldn't stand a chance if it was contested. Even the new battleship could scarcely hold its own in tight quarters against three adversaries. And now, the lives of nearly thirty thousand soldiers were in jeopardy.

It was one of those times when Bancroft hated to be right.

Yet, it would serve them all right. It would be its own form of perverted justice to see those transports sunk just because they didn't listen to him. So perverted that maybe even George would want to see daily performances of it.

Bancroft's mind began to drift, mentally calculating the drastic option in front of him. What he considered now was so devious and so damning that he would most assuredly be hung, drawn, and quartered if he was caught. It was the same idea he pondered weeks ago back in Belfort, the same plan that could change the balance of power.

Bancroft's cheek flinched. His palms began to sweat and his pulse quickened. Could he really carry out the idea he now contemplated?

Could he betray his country and his emperor just to prove a point? Was his honor worth the lives of all those men?

"Admiral, another dispatch," said a now sweating Clark, passing another sighting of the Occitanian force. Bancroft scanned it quickly too, seeing another separate report of the enemy fleet taking the northwest passage. He now had all the proof he needed. Henrik's men were in the wrong passage. Yet, they could still be intercepted and turned around.

All he needed to do was give the correct order.

"What are you doing to do?" asked Clark after swallowing heavily.

"We need to send a message," said Bancroft cryptically. Clark nodded quickly, sprinting to take down the note and seeming to feel an instant relief at the possibility of an interception.

This order would confuse and boggle him.

"Get word to the invasion fleet and tell them to proceed as they normally would," said Bancroft, watching as Clark scribbled down the note. "Do not tell them about the sighting. They don't need to worry about that."

"I'll get it over to them at once. What about Vice Admiral Henrik?"

Henrik. The scapegoat.

"Send a message to Henrik. Tell him the Occitanian task force has been spotted going down the southeast passage from Barrier Island."

Clark's head snapped up to look at him. "I think you mean the northwest passage, Admiral."

Bancroft focused him with a steely gaze. This was his moment.

His chance for revenge for all those slights.

"I spoke correctly, Clark. The southeast passage."

A bead of sweat appeared on Clark's forehead, which he quickly wiped away. He quickly pushed closer to Bancroft, his face now thoroughly alarmed. "What are you doing, Admiral?" he whispered furiously.

"What needs to be done. Send the order to Henrik," said Bancroft concisely.

"You're going to get us killed! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'll ignore that slight for now, Clark, but you need to remember who you're talking to," warned Bancroft. "I'm not done yet. I want you to place another order in the official file. Make sure the order states for Henrik to take the northwest passage, reversing course."

Bancroft watched as Clark's wheels turned. "What could be the possible meaning of doing this?"

"To prove a point. To show them how important our navy really is. And most importantly, so they stop treating us like the bastard child of Java."

"You'll get the opposite for this," hissed Clark. "You'll put the navy in such low regard for losing the invasion force. They'll kill all of us!"

"They won't," insisted Bancroft. "They'll see how much they need us. They'll never doubt our worth again."

"I won't let you do this. I'll not forfeit my life so easily," said Clark, showing the first bit of defiance of his career. Bancroft was shocked for a brief moment, not thinking that Clark was capable of standing up to him.

In a way, it made his next words more satisfying.

"You will, or else I'll pin the blame entirely on you," threatened Bancroft. "I'll make this out to be a simple mistake in orders, and I'll make sure you're the one that gets drawn and quartered. This is my calculated gambit, and I won't have my subordinates question my decisions."

His words hit Clark like body blows, and the man recoiled from his immediate presence. A range of emotions passed through Clark's face—from confusion to anger to sorrow to reluctance. It wasn't hard to see that his threat had worked. Clark's brief moment of insolence passed just as quickly as it arrived.

"You're going to bring all of us down with you. Your quest for power will see the fall of all of us," said Clark in a defeated tone.