Fourth Vector Ch. 20

"Do you really think a nation such as yours could be a full ally to the great Javan Empire?" asked Lucius, a laugh already erupting on his lips. "Look around the place! I saw sails on your ships! Your soldiers are armed with what I can only guess are muskets, only because the technology is so old that we've long forgotten it! You would be wise to accept your status as a partner in the Javan Empire. We might just bring up to current times."

Heron shook his head and crossed his arms defiantly. "I'd like to speak with Jack Easterbrook. This is not what we discussed. This completely flies in the face of everything we've decided together. And I'd appreciate it if you referred to me with the proper respect for my title."

"Jack Easterbrook doesn't speak for the Javan Empire," replied Lucius. "I do. Now you may have been lulled into some fairy tale where you would be equal partners with us, but it's time to face facts,Your Majesty."

"And if we refuse? If I decide to disregard the entire alliance right here on the spot?"

Lucius' upper lip curled up in amusement. "Then you'll be treated as rebels. I'm very curious to find out how your wooden ships and muskets hold up to modern weaponry. Would you like to put it to the test?"

The tension in the room was at a boiling point. Heron had never seen a man act with such impropriety in his own court before. If any of the nobles had said half of what this viceroy had, they'd be kicked out of Sorella before nightfall. Even the nobles that had accompanied his brother during their civil war had the good sense to remain friendly to both sides. This was unimaginable.

It also completely changed matters in regard to his relationship with Jack. Did Jack know that this was going to come to pass? Was this the standard operating procedure of the Javan Empire? Lure them in with honey and then trap them once they were invested?

There were too many questions on Heron's mind, too many without answers. He wanted to talk to Jack. Resistance was almost out of the question, as much as he hated to admit it. The viceroy was entirely right about their capabilities, and Heron remembered just how easily Jack's men shredded Daimanos' forces at the end of the war. They couldn't let it devolve into a fight especially when they still hadn't recovered from the last one.

But he needed more time. Time to figure out how to treat an ally who was starting to act like a colonizer.

"I would like time to think over your proposal," said Heron. "This comes at a certain level of shock for all of us here, but that doesn't mean we can't come to some level of accommodation. I need to consult with my people and my ministers before I can give you a proper answer."

Lucius shrugged. "You have one week to give me your answer as outlined in the terms of this proclamation," said Lucius as he handed a copy over to them. "In that time, I'll be needing lodging and personal accommodations. This palace will do nicely."

Heron fought the urge to grind his teeth. "Very well. My servants will see to it that you get a decent room."

"I should hope so, although I don't have high hopes for that," said the viceroy, while making a disgusted face. "I shall call for you if I need you."

With those simple words, Lucius Grant turned on his heel and made an exit every bit as flamboyant as his entrance. It only served to further enrage Heron, and judging by the looks on Nikias and Elektra's faces, they were feeling the same anger.

"Who the hell does he think he is?" cried out Elektra as soon as the Javan delegation had left the receiving hall. "Colony? Sorella is no colony!"

"I'd have never expected such a thing from the Javans," added Nikias in a slightly more placid tone. "I didn't get any sense of such treatment when Jack was here. Did you?"

Heron shook his head. "Not at all. Jack made it out to seem like we would be full allies, without all this subservience that this viceroy has added into the pot."

"The very title of viceroy makes me seethe," said Elektra while crossing her arms under her bust. "Could they be any more transparent with what they think of us? An advantage in weaponry or not, I'd be glad to lead the army in kicking that haughty ass out of Sorella."

Heron brought his hand up to calm his daughter. "That wouldn't be a wise course at all. What would happen when they came back? We'd be in an even worse spot with nothing to show for it. We have some time now, and I really want to get a message to Jack and find out what this is all about. There's a chance here that this isn't as bad as we think."

"It certainly doesn't feel like it could get any worse," said Nikias grimly. "But I don't know what Jack would be able to do. Last we heard, he was in Picardy."

Heron shook his head. "This just doesn't make a lot of sense to me. It's one thing to acknowledge our position in relation to Java, but another thing entirely to treat us as a subjugated country. I should very much like to see what we can find out. I'll get a message off to Picardy at once. If he's still in the country, at least he'll be able to be tracked down."

Nikias and Elektra nodded. "Please let us know. Is there anything you'd like us to do in the meantime?"

"No, not right now. Let's see what we hear back. I'm afraid if Java expects us to act like a colony, there's not much we can offer them besides grain right now," said Heron. "This makes no sense, and once I have further clarification, we can decide how we approach it."

The king bid goodbye to his daughter and his minister before he and Melora retired back to his study where he wrote up the message for Jack. Heron was still steaming at the treatment he suffered, something that was noticed by Melora right away.

"Heron, would you like me to give you some space right now?" she asked quietly, her hand already on the door knob.

He shook his head. "No, it's not you. I'm sorry if my anger is all too visible right now."

"It's understandable, considering what we just witnessed," she said in a voice little above a whisper. "I do hope we're able to figure out some kind of solution to it though."

"Me too," said Heron. "Me too." He wrote out the entire dispatch and soon gave it to a messenger to have it relayed out to Picardy before taking Melora into his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder, with neither offering an additional word in the moment. For Heron, it was good to just have the woman pressed against him, a form of comfort that soothed his bruised ego and sense of national pride.

Jack, I really hope you can figure out what's going on. And stop whatever designs this viceroy has planned for Sorella, thought Heron.

The other voice inside his head wasn't nearly as hopeful.

*****

An island away, Masud, Regent of Andalucia, was having a heated argument of his own that had degenerated into a tense standoff between the forces of theSciavo and the imperial guard of Viceroy Alden Pierce of Java. Both sides were equally hostile, and there was none of the diplomatic skill of Heron on display.

"If I have to tell that savage to stop pointing his bow at me, I'm going to have my men fire on your entire palace," said the angry viceroy, a middle-aged man with exceptionally dark hair and eyebrows. He was well-fed by the looks of him, and his haughty attitude had instantly soured on Masud from the moment he walked into Septhada.

Masud remained unconvinced. "It was your man that drew on mine first. TheSciavo are here to protect the palace from all threats. And you've been nothing but threatening since the moment you walked in here."

Alden narrowed his eyes. "That's because you people live like savages in this country. How you're supposed to be any use to us as a colony, I have no idea, but you will provide the necessary requirements that we seek."

"Or else what?"

"Or else, I'll bring the entire weight of the Javan Empire on your heads. You're the king here, so you can understand what that means. It means every single one of your subjects will feel the fire and brimstone of our empire," shot back Alden.

"I'm not the king here," said Masud. "Your countryman, Jack Easterbrook, is our king. You should bring this up with him instead."

Alden started to laugh. "That's cute. Took your crown from you, did he? It's no matter. Easterbrook is Javan first and foremost, and even if he does hold the crown over thisquaint country, he has no say on this matter. Now are you prepared to comply or not?"

"Do we have no time to think over the matter?" asked Masud.

"I'm prepared to give you a week before my forces start firing on every Andalucian man, woman, and child in sight," replied Alden. "But you will comply eventually.

Masud seethed. Inwardly, he had thoughts of allowing theSciavo to fire upon this party of interlopers. He half-expected the well-trained guards to make quick work of the Javans before they even knew that hostilities had commenced but he questioned whether that would make things any better. It was far likelier that they would make the situation here much worse.

It was one of those moments when he wished he had Jack here to advise him on the best course of action. Not just because he was the king, but because he instinctively seemed to know how to handle situations like this one. It also couldn't hurt that the viceroy was his own countrymen, and he might be in a better position to mediate this tense standoff.

"I'm going to consult with my king before we give you any further statements," said Masud finally, before he urged theSciavo to lower their weapons. "Only then will I be able to let you know what we're going to do."

"You do that," said Alden dismissively. "And when you have an answer for me, I'll be here waiting. Now, do you have rooms that my men and I can stay in?"

As Bazu led the Javan delegation to a block of rooms in the palace, Masud stepped out onto the balcony to look at the city in front of him. To say this meeting came out of nowhere was an understatement. The regent job had been tough enough with just focusing on the integration of the former slaves into Andalucian society without this pompous ass showing up. Now, it threatened another conflict if they didn't immediately give in. Was this the price of having Jack as king?

No sooner had he arrived out on the balcony than Bazu returned after leaving their guests.

"Well, that could've gone better," said the vizier, resting against the railing next to Masud.

"You're not kidding. What are we to do now?"

"These are the king's countrymen. Surely it can't be all that bad?" asked Bazu.

Masud laughed. "You were in there when they arrived. It's pretty bad."

"Then why don't we ask the king what his wishes are? If this is what he truly wants for us, then we're better off knowing right now."

"I'll send word to him this evening," promised the regent. "I hope he can figure something out. I had high hopes for this country with him at the helm. This hardly seems promising."

"The king will figure something out. I haven't lost faith in him," said Bazu with confidence.

Masud only wished for some of that confidence in his own thoughts.

*****

Greg was dreaming again.

It was great to actually be able to recognize he was in one instead of trying to recollect the details after he already woke up. In this dream, he was in a verdant meadow back in Java, far away from any city. Outside of Lockhaven, there was nothing but pristine forests and rolling hills, the perfect getaway for a day outside the hustle of the city.

In this particular dream, no one was hunting or chasing him, and he meandered through an empty field before he reached an ancient treeline, soon finding himself deep inside the forest. He seemed to be just a few steps behind someone else, some woman that he could never quite catch up to. She had lovely, golden blonde hair that he would catch a glimpse of every time she snuck out from behind another tree.

After a while though, it seemed like he was catching up. She wasn't so far away, and he seemed to be making ground as they weaved their way along giant oak trees. Finally, Greg was only a step or two behind her, close enough that he was able to reach out to grab her hand. The woman finally paused and turned to look at him, showing off those blue eyes that he would recognize inside the furthest reaches of his soul.

Lucidity always had a way of spoiling a dream right when it got to the good parts. In this scenario, Greg found his eyes blinking open as his blonde beauty finally faded from sight. Instead of seeing her lovely blue eyes, he saw the rest of the infirmary, remembering once again where he was.

It was a similar situation to the last time he awoke, however long ago that was, and being that this was now the second time he sat up in bed without feeling any kind of symptom, he reckoned he was probably well enough now to have kicked this plague.

As Greg put his two feet firmly on the floor, the door to his room opened up. Dr. Kendall came rushing in, looking at Greg with incredulous eyes.

"Greg! You're awake!"

Greg chuckled. "Good to see you too, Doc, but I told you I was feeling better earlier. Can you let me out now?"

The shocked expression never left his face. "You don't know how long you were out, did you?"

"What are you talking about?"

Kendall moved closer to him. "You said you told me you were feeling better earlier. Do you know how long ago 'earlier' was?"

Greg shrugged. "I don't know? This morning? What time is it?"

"It's ten o'clock in the morning, but that's beside the point," replied Kendall. "I remember the first time you got up acting like you'd beaten the plague. That was almost a week ago, Greg!"

Greg's mouth dropped. "A week ago! What? Have I been out this whole time?"

Kendall nodded.

Greg began to touch his chest. "I feel fine now at least. I feel better than before. My head is a little more clear."

"Let me check you," said Kendall, before grabbing some instruments. After a brief examination, the doctor sat back on the bed. "You're fine, Greg. Temperature is back in normal range. The swelling in your lymph nodes is gone. I'd say you've done it. You've beaten the plague. It's hard to believe it, but you've done it."

"Well, hell, Doc, it will take more than that to put me six feet under," said Greg with a smirk. "It should've known better than to pick a fight with me."

"Indeed. I thought you were a goner," said a visibly relieved Kendall. "We were waiting a long time for you to wake from what can only be described as a coma. But you've done it. You've really beaten it."

Greg was all smiles until he remembered the nature of his dream. He knew full well who he'd been chasing, and he craned his head to look around Kendall to Vera's bed.

It was empty. The sheets had been completely removed as well as the pillows. It looked depressingly bare, and Greg felt a lump begin to form in his throat.

"Where's Vera, Doc?" he asked as his stomach dropped. He got up from his bed and patted the empty mattress. "She was right here the last time I went out." He turned to look at Kendall's face. "Please no. Tell me she didn't die. Please Kendall, don't do this to me."

Kendall opened his mouth to say something but closed it right after. Greg felt instantly worse than before. If he had any food in his stomach, it would have come up on the spot. He turned to look at the empty bed that used to hold up her blonde head, wondering if it had been the last time he'd ever see it.

He was so consumed with the negative thoughts that he didn't hear the door to his room open up. Suddenly, a woman's hands wrapped around his shoulders. "Greg, you're alive!" she said softly.

He turned around to look into the only pair of blue eyes he ever wanted to see. Before him was Vera, no worse for wear, and looking just as beautiful as she did in his dream.

"You're alive? You're safe?" he asked, staring at her with incredulous eyes.

Vera nodded quickly as a smile appeared on her face. "Same boat as you, remember? I guess I woke up just about an hour before you did."

Greg wrapped his arms around her body, hugging her as tight as he could manage. Vera could only giggle as her fingers slid through his hair. Against her chest, he said a silent thank you that they had this moment together.

Before he could go any further though, he needed to know the truth. He let go of Vera to look at the doctor. "Kendall, are we both fine now? Have we really beaten this thing?"

Kendall nodded slowly. "From what I can see, there are no more signs of infection. I'm not sure why the strain that infected you and Vera kept you under longer than the others, but you both appear to be free of symptoms. I'd like to monitor you for a couple more days before we can release you, but I've arranged to have another room set up for you both. I take it you're tired of being quarantined in this one."

Vera smiled. "Very tired of it." She then turned to look at Greg. "I've already moved my new things into the room if you'd like to join me?"

"Nothing sounds better to me than that offer right there," he replied with a chuckle.

As Greg began to move his things into the new room, Kendall was there to give them his recollection of events since they'd been in the infirmary. Apparently, the both of them spent a good deal of time unconscious due to the plague's effects, and at first, it seemed to be following a fairly typical path. The both of them woke up on the seventh day of the plague feeling like normal, which was usually the sign that they were right on the cusp of death.

"That explains why you weren't excited to see me the last time," said Greg sourly as Kendall told the story.

"Not because I didn't want to, Greg," the doctor said with a laugh. "But because I didn't want to see you die."

They'd both slipped into their weeklong comas around the same time, with Vera usually being the first one to enter the latest stage.

"I didn't know what to do with either of you," admitted Kendall. "I wasn't sure how long you'd be out for, or whether you'd ever come back. That's why it's so good to see you both now."

"Were we the only sick ones on the ship?" asked Vera. "This whole time, it's only been Greg and I here."

"It's only been you two, thank god," replied Kendall. "Although a lot has happened since you've been out."

"Has it really?" asked Greg, before turning to look out the port window. "I see we're back in Daban. It doesn't look like that much as changed."

Kendall chuckled. "We've been to Carinthia and back, fought a battle against the Swabians, and liberated the capital city!"

Greg's mouth dropped open. "We did? They fought a battle without me!"

"I'm told that your subordinate, Major Dustin Culver, accounted for himself very well in battle."

"Well, he better have," said Greg with a scoff. "I taught that man everything he knows."

They all had a long laugh together, and Kendall stayed to update them on all that had happened while they were under. He went on for a long time until it became obvious that there was a lot going on nonverbally between Greg and Vera. Thankfully, the doctor was able to see it without too much trouble and excused himself not long after.

"If you two don't mind, I'm going to take my leave now. I'll let Jack know you're both awake and feeling better, although I don't want you to leave until after we've had forty-eight hours of observation." Kendall then gave them a knowing look. "I'm sure you'll find your own ways of spending those hours."

Vera turned to look back at Greg as her hand crept into his own. "I'm sure we will," she whispered as the doctor headed toward the door.

Once Kendall was gone, she crossed over to sit on his bed. Despite all the earlier conversation, words were almost too heavy for the moment.