Fourth Vector Ch. 22

"It sounds like a lofty goal," said Jack, being more realistic. "The Ruthenians are powerful, and we still need to sink a good portion of the Occitanian fleet before we can think about them being cast out of this."

Bancroft gave him a curious stare. "We'll get there though, Jack. I have no doubt about it. With officers like us in charge of the fleet, we can win this war for Java. I firmly believe that we have a higher calling. I've always felt that way about myself, and I can see it now even in you. It's why I've been watching your career for all these years, Jack. I see greatness in you. I always thought if I could mold you and shape you into the man you're meant to be, together you and I could stand high on the plains of victory."

Jack didn't know what to say to that. In one respect, it was tacit admission of what everyone knew all along—that Bancroft had an interest in him and had been guiding his career all these years. In another respect, it begged a further question. Just where did Bancroft see them rising to? What height of power would be acceptable to someone who was already in charge of the country's navy but wanted more?

All-in-all, it gave Jack an uneasy feeling. Such naked ambition rarely turned out well, especially in a country as hierarchy-structured as Java.

Bancroft's version of his future also left no room for Galicia. He couldn't very well be the admiral's number two man and be the king of a country on the other side of the world.

Finally, it became obvious that Bancroft was watching him, waiting on a response. Jack tilted his head forward. "We can agree on one thing then. To winning this war for Java and bringing back peace again." Jack rose his cup toward the admiral.

Bancroft gave him a curious look before repeating the gesture, although if he thought otherwise, he gave no indication. The dinner proceeded without conversation for a few more minutes until Jack determined it was time to start getting some of the answers he needed. First, he would start with Tyrol.

"I've been hearing that we our having some issues with the Tyroleans," said Jack nonchalantly between bites of food. "I wasn't sure if what I heard was overblown but I figured I'd ask what the situation is like down there?"

Bancroft stopped eating to focus his eyes on him. "And what exactly have you heard, Jack?"

"A little unrest in that region. Some protests and the like," he said, keeping it intentionally vague. He didn't want to repeat everything from the conversation he overheard earlier or else Bancroft would know he had eavesdropped. His answer was open enough that he was curious which way the admiral would take it.

Bancroft returned to his food. "Nothing too serious, thankfully. Although you know how they can be. Backwoods folk like the Tyroleans never change much, despite the rest of us continuing to progress."

"So it's not that serious then?" asked Jack.

Bancroft looked at him one more time. "It's nothing I would lose sleep over, if I were you."

You look at me as your protégé yet you won't even tell me the truth, thought Jack.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said finally. "I have a lot of Tyrolean men under my command. Good fighters all of them, but if trouble were brewing there, it could be bad for us. So I'm glad to hear you say that. It puts me more at ease, especially if we'll be looking at a future conflict with the Ruthenians."

Then Bancroft did something Jack didn't expect. He smiled politely and then said in a joking manner, "really Jack you shouldn't believe everything you hear. There's always someone out there who wants to exaggerate and make a mountain from a molehill. That's all it is in this case."

Why is he lying to me?

Jack nodded his head politely but couldn't help the negative feelings it brought forth to hear the admiral lie to his face. After all, what difference would it make if he knew about the full extent of the situation in Tyrol? If Bancroft wanted a protégé, wouldn't that extend to giving him his full confidence as well?

Just that one topic alone left a foul taste in his mouth, despite the well-cooked plate in front of him. The admiral must not have sensed Jack's turn of heart, because he started down a new road of conversation after a few moments.

This one was no better than the last.

"You know, Jack, despite all that's going on in the world, I do greatly admire your success in the Fourth Vector," said Bancroft after a drink of wine. "What you've accomplished over there is nothing short of amazing. Look at you now. You're a commodore and the leader of the only expedition to visit the Vector and live to tell about it. It's a far cry from the man you were when you left, and that's really saying something."

"Well, thank you, sir. I appreciate the kind words," said Jack. "It's been an interesting year over there. I've seen and done things I never thought I would."

"Indeed, I'm sure. And you know something? I wasn't exaggerating when I told you I see great things for your career, Jack," said Bancroft. "One day, I'd like you to be my right-hand man. Perhaps then you and I can determine how to plot not only the navy's course, but Java's as well."

Jack gave him a funny look as the same conversation came back for round two. "Where does the emperor fall into this scenario? I thought he was the one plotting Java's course."

Bancroft made a face. "Right now he does, but think beyond the man for right now, Jack. You and I both know the emperor isn't the most inspiring figure. He's a relic of a bygone age. Java needs fit leadership. She needs to be led by warriors who are accustomed to making tough decisions, not despots who rule as they wish and never lead by example."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You'll have to forgive my confusion, Admiral. To hear words like those spoken openly is usually not a wise course. Say what you like about the emperor, but he's not one to tolerate open disrespect."

Bancroft waved his hand again. "See? That's what I'm talking about, Jack. Why can't we question the man? Why is the office infallible? The emperor is a man after all, so let's not pretend like he doesn't make mistakes. I'm coming around to the idea that Java might need new leadership. Someone to help them progress into the future."

"Someone like you, Admiral?" asked Jack quietly. "Is that what this is all about?"

Bancroft gave him a hollow look. "Someone strong enough," he answered. "Someone fit for the job. No more of this heredity garbage, where someone inherits the throne just because they were born into the right family. It should go to the man with the best temperament."

"That sounds like something that might end badly for us, especially if the emperor got word," said Jack cautiously.

"The emperor," scoffed Bancroft. "Jack, you need to start thinking bigger. The world has a need for good men like you, those that are strong and that can mold Java's destiny. We're not meant to be one out of equals with the Occitanians and the Ruthenians. We deserve to stand head and shoulders above them. That's why I welcome a war with the Ruthenians. We shall crush them totally. And then Java will stand as the paramount power in the world."

Bancroft leaned in. "Can you imagine what we would do with that power? If it were wielded in hands like ours? We could take the Javan people to new heights. No more would we have to answer to the whims or the perversity of the royal family. We could mold something truly different."

Jack struggled not to let his mouth fall open. What Bancroft so openly talked about here was treason. It meant the overthrow of the existing order, something that was liable to get you beheaded if it were even hinted at.

Even beyond the mere words, it meant something deeper, something darker. It meant civil war for Java, a conflict between those that would want to change the system versus those that would keep it the same. What Bancroft now suggested was the complete reversal of the system and damn anyone who might fall through the cracks.

What was worse, he wanted Jack to be his right-hand man in the whole affair.

"I guess the thing that I'm getting at, Jack, is what kind of world do you want to make for yourself? For your children someday? Do you want a world where we have to deal with the decadence of royal houses? Of a family that cares not about your well-being and could very well order all that you love to the gallows? Do you want to continue to serve in a system that enables such corruption?"

Bancroft extended his hand across the table. "Or do you want to take a chance and see what could happen on the other side? When a determined, fit, capable leader takes over the country to propel it to greatness previously unknown? Imagine what we could accomplish, Jack! Then we wouldn't talk about owning mansions, but cities! Countries even."

"What are you asking me?" asked Jack quietly.

Bancroft took a moment to compose himself before locking eyes with him. "I'm asking you if you would support such a system. Would you give yourself to this system that would let you rise to untold heights? Or keep you as a mere naval officer with no hint of greatness?"

Jack could feel his face flush. "I wouldn't say there was no greatness. Look at all that's happened to me since I've become an officer. My rank, my victories, my accomplishments—all have been done in the old system. I don't know why something like that needs to change."

A momentary look of shock appeared on Bancroft's face before he was able to recover. "So this suits you? All of this? You have no desire to rise above your station? No desire to be the leader of your own country someday?"

But I am the leader of my own country, he thought to himself.Andalucia is mine and even Galicia might call me king.

"What you're talking about is dangerous," said Jack. "None of it is assured either."

"Forget the danger for a minute, Jack," said Bancroft impatiently. "I've been guiding your career since before you knew what a warship was. You might be my greatest student, a true leader of men. That's why I need your support now. I need to know if you would be loyal to me, as I've been loyal to you."

Jack looked at his extended hand, silently regarding all that it represented. Bancroft wanted to upend the entire social order of the country, a task with momentous implications.

But at what consequence? It meant more turmoil for Java. It meant a two-front war with the Occitanians and Ruthenians, the outcome of which wasn't guaranteed. It meant turmoil within Java, a possible civil conflict between two factions, with which this likely Tyrolean revolt could serve as a flash point.

That wasn't without the thought of all those back across the ocean, those that counted on him for support. Jack had thoughts of Kat, someone who had dedicated her life to finding him and returning him to his birth rite. He thought of all those countries threatened by the Swabians, many of them looking for a singular leader who could roll back that aggression to their former borders.

He took too long to consider. Bancroft pulled his hand back and made an upset face at him. "Perhaps this is too much to lay on you too soon, Jack. Perhaps I'm being too greedy?"

"What you're saying isn't something that should be decided in the space of a heartbeat," said Jack. "What you're talking about is . . . a great change from the current status of things."

"A change, yes. A great change? Possibly," said Bancroft cryptically. "If you are on the fence now, Jack, as I sense that you are, what would it take to bring you to my side on this matter? Do you desire something? What can I do for you to ease your decision?"

For Jack, it wasn't a matter that could be settled by bargain. Bancroft seemed to be wanting the moral part of his soul, the one that said to never turn your back on your own people. While he was no fan of the Javan system of government, he had no thoughts that anything Bancroft would bring would be anything better.

It only seemed to promise more death and more destruction.

Jack wanted to stall for time, and in doing so, he found a bargaining chip.

"What about the viceroys I mentioned earlier?" he asked, pivoting the conversation. "What can be done about them?"

Bancroft blinked several times before he offered a reply. "And what about them, Jack?"

"What can be done to remove them?"

"You wish to be the governor of these new lands?" asked Bancroft. "A rather lofty goal for a naval officer, although it does fit in the spirit of this conversation, I will say. That will be hard to promise though."

Jack shook his head. "I'm not doing this for power. I'm doing this so that we stop regarding these lands as colonies and start treating them like allies once again as was the purpose of our original mission."

Bancroft rose his chin. "That I cannot change. That comes from the emperor, and it's only with consternation that I bring it up now. We will require these resources to help us win the war over here."

"You will try to turn them into colonies and you will lose them all," warned Jack. "But if you keep them as friends and allies, you will find partners that will help you triumph. Can't the emperor be made to see that?"

Bancroft held up his hands. "Enough about this, Jack. I've seen those foreign ships out in the harbor. Oh, yes, I was looking earlier," he said with a disappointed nod. "They are at best a generation or two behind our technology. Now if that is the very best they can offer, it's not enough. From your own writings, you've mentioned the backwardness of several of the lands. They would be better use to us for their raw resources while we bring them up a suitable level of civilization. They cannot be allies."

"So that's your answer then? We are to continue regarding them as colonies?"

Bancroft sneered. "Jack, the first lesson of power is that those that have it will lord over those that don't."

"You also suggested that those under the power can overcome those on top, did you not?" shot back Jack. "That's the very nature of the proposal you just offered me."

Bancroft pursed his lips. "Do not throw my words back at me, Jack."

"All I'm saying is that you need allies for what you're suggesting. If you let me continue to work with these lands in the manner that I want, we can keep them as resourceful allies. Otherwise, we shall lose them all and gain nothing."

"Then we agree to disagree, Jack," said Bancroft stiffly.

"In that case, we can extend our agreement to disagree to all areas of discussion," said Jack with equal fury.

Bancroft regarded him with an intense glare that ordinarily would have made him shift in his seat. This time, Jack was too heated. The admiral's designs on power were blinding him to realities that he wouldn't otherwise miss. The kind and patient mentor he'd once known had now been replaced by this power-hungry strategist and the difference was striking.

Bancroft's face softened. "You disappoint me, Jack. After all this time, I thought you would have gladly stood by my side. I thought you might be my heir one day," he said as he wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"What you're suggesting will only end badly for Java," said Jack. "It will bring more hardship on her people, most of it unnecessary."

"Unnecessary," mocked Bancroft. "Don't let your sentiments cloud your judgment. There is only one true currency in this world and it's power. If you aren't pushing for the top, then you'll get lost in race, Jack. Don't let your morals stand in the way of achieving your dreams."

Dreams. That word had a new meaning for Jack because of his time in the Vector. Before it, it meant having his own career in the navy, retiring when he could and finding a girl to settle down with to live out the rest of his years on Java.

Now, dreams meant something else entirely. It meant going back to the Vector and finding some way to inherit the throne that had been meant for him. It meant defeating the Swabian threat, and at the end of the day, coming back to the two women he loved more than life itself.

Sometime in the last year, his dream changed.

In doing so, so did his destiny.

"I can't do what you're suggesting," said Jack finally. "To do so would be to compromise who I am. I won't do it."

A range of emotions passed Bancroft's face. The first one was surprise. Genuine surprise at the rejection, followed by bewilderment, anger, and then lastly rage.

In his anger, Bancroft brought his napkin down hard on the table, so hard that their glasses of wine clinked with fury.

"Then I think we are done here, Jack." Bancroft stood up from the table and started to walk away. Before he left the room, he turned to face him one last time. "You'll find a car waiting to take you back to your ship. I suggest you go back right away. And Jack?" Bancroft leveled him with a powerful glare. "Win the next battle. If you don't, even I won't be able to protect you."

With that, the Fleet Admiral of Java was gone, banished back into his manorial fortress.

Jack didn't linger at the dinner table for every long. Taking Bancroft's advice, he quickly slipped out of the house and into the waiting car, which soon sped off toward the port.

His mind was spinning. Bancroft's words still circled his brain, a mixture of greed, avarice, and a lust for power that overcame all his senses. The man he once knew—the kind, gentle teacher—no longer existed.

It had been replaced by someone who no longer cared about anything other than advancement.

What had happened to his old friend and mentor? How had power been allowed to twist his soul into something so unrecognizable?

There were no answers that gave him any solace. He had to recognize one major fact after this dinner.

Bancroft may no longer be the ally he once was.

*****

"All right, just ease the nose down slightly. Just a tiny bit. No, no, no, too hard!"

Dustin grinned as the airplane suddenly tilted toward the ground, rapidly losing elevation as he made a sweep for the low clearing several fields away. Behind him, the Carinthian engineer/pilot tapped on his shoulder furiously, trying to get him to right the craft.

"Up, up, up! You're going to get us killed, you fool!" yelled the man, named Dante, who had agreed to teach Dustin to fly a week ago.

Surely, he was now regretting that acceptance.

Dustin yanked back hard on the stick, and they soon felt the force of air push them back in their seats as the nose leveled off, coasting through the air once more. He looked back at Dante, the grin still worn prominently on his face, something that wasn't shared with the engineer.

"You can't do that, Dustin! Especially at this altitude," yelled Dante from behind his goggles. "You're liable to get us killed if you dive from this height."

"Oh, come off it a little, Dante," said Dustin. "We're high enough that there was plenty of time to recover."

Dante pointed to the nearest trees, no more than a couple hundred feet beneath them. "That's high enough for you?"

Dustin grinned again. "What can I say? You give me the training to fly, you can't expect me not to soar!"

"Birds soar," grumbled Dante. "We're merely men in an artificial craft. Know your limits, Dustin!"

"See, I always had a problem with that," said Dustin again, as he tilted the wings to one side. He felt Dante scrambling to grab the side before Dustin could tilt the stick in the opposite direction. The plane leveled out once more as it flew over a clearing dominated by a large lake.

"This is the only way to see the country," said Dustin as they looked on the Picard countryside. "You can see everything from up here! How can anyone not enjoy this?"

"Those with a fear of heights perhaps?" suggested Dante, which only succeeded in making Dustin chuckle. "And remember, we're supposed to be flying toward the city. Burwick is that way!"