Fourth Vector Ch. 27

For the first two weeks after the raid, Amboy was a peaceful and tranquil community again, operating on its own and under the control of the people that lived there.

It was only in the third week that signs of retribution began to appear in the form of a new military presence. Trevor was among the first to hear about the new convoy that rolled into town that fateful afternoon, and his blood chilled when he heard these weren't just ordinary Javan soldiers coming to Amboy.

These were Javan marines. Dangerous, well-trained, and expert marksmen in their own right.

What was worse was there was an entire platoon of them coming to be stationed in Amboy, part of a wider network of other deployments that blanketed the whole countryside.

Trevor was in the crowd when the announcement was made once they set up shop in their own camp just on the outside of town.

"By the order of His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Charles IX, the town of Amboy will accept a marine garrison starting today, and this garrison will remain in effect for the foreseeable future to deal with the unrest in the region. Anyone having information on the perpetrators of the dastardly attack of a Javan supply convoy outside of Amboy three weeks' past should come forward. You will be rewarded for any successful arrests!"

Trevor paled slightly at the thought of what the marines would do to any of them who might be identified as being part of the Movement. Javan marines weren't exactly known for their clemency. What was even worse was that there were many in Amboy who knew that Trevor was the leader of the town's resistance. He scanned the crowd briefly, noticing (to his horror) that many in the town were now looking back at him with knowing expressions.

"Our presence in Tyrol will remain until we have destroyed the rebellion and brought to justice anyone claiming to be a member of the Movement," yelled out the marine.

There was a deathly silence amongst the small crowd gathered in the town square. Many of them looked fearful. Some looked ambivalent as if they weren't certain if the Javan decree had any teeth to it.

They would be the first ones to be proven naive.

It was two days later that Trevor heard of the first seizures. Across the entire town, people were taken in by the marines and brought back to their base on the outside of town, where a makeshift detention unit was created out of someone's cellar. From that point onward, the sounds of screams could be heard throughout the day and night as the marines set about trying to gather more information.

Tension in the town started to build with each successive arrest. As Trevor manned the grocery store, he began to fear that at any moment, marines could come marching down the aisle to take him as easily as they had many others.

The marines soon came too close for comfort.

Owen Bach, the brother of Reese and the joint owner of the town's convenience store, was apprehended by the marines the next morning and brought in for questioning, leading to a furious degree of whispering and animosity by those senior members of the Movement. Like Trevor, the Bach brothers had been part of the Movement from the very beginning, creating the first squad in Amboy dedicated to removing the Javans from the country. All of them had been financed by Ruthenian coin, most of which was still flowing just as easily as it did that last day that Trevor met the agent outside his store.

It was the start of an alarming trend. If they could torture Owen Bach into talking, the entire leadership in Amboy could be threatened.

The only question was what could they do about it? Ambushing Javan soldiers in the dark was one thing, but attacking a marine platoon base was quite another story. Even in Tyrol, everyone knew of the marines' fierce reputation, and there was no urge to experience their wrath.

It was the very problem that Trevor was trying to work through the next day as he was working in the store. He was in the middle of setting up his orders for the coming week when there was a knock on his office door in the back of the store.

Trevor's nerves went wild for a moment until he saw that it was just Reese Bach. He gestured for him to come in and lock the door behind him. Reese looked extremely haggard. He hadn't shaved that morning, and his eyes were more than a little bloodshot. For a usually prim business owner, it was quite the change of pace.

"Are you all right, Reese?" asked Trevor as the other man sat down in front of his desk.

"Shit no, Trevor," replied Reese. The man was already jumpy and his leg was twitching against the floor. "I haven't slept all night. I haven't eaten much of anything since those bastards jumped Owen yesterday morning. I'm up against the wall and I don't know what to do."

"If anyone can handle a few Javan marines, it's Owen," said Trevor. "He's made of the same tough stuff as you are."

Reese shook his head. "They're torturing him. I just know it, Trevor. I hear the screams coming out of that cellar and I know they are Owen's. I can't let this continue. We have to do something!"

"We don't know that for sure—" said Trevor before he was cut off.

"I know it," said Reese with a knowing expression. "I experienced it firsthand, remember?"

It was widespread knowledge that both of the Bach brothers had fought in the Desert War. Their unit had faced an ambush from a Ruthenian scout force and Reese was captured, along with half the unit while Owen had managed to get away to fight another day. Reese had spent the rest of the war in a prison camp, and he still had the scars to show from it.

"There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about what happened in that camp, Trevor," said Reese quietly before he locked eyes on the other man. "I could handle it. I came back. But you know as well as I do that Owen just isn't as tough as I am. He's my little brother. And there's no way in shit that I want him to go through the same thing that I did!"

"What else can we do, Reese? Be reasonable, this isn't some small convoy of third-rate soldiers here. These are marines. It's not like we can exactly knock on the front door and ask them to let Owen go."

Reese continued to tap his foot against the floor. "Well, we have to think of something. I'm going nuts here. Besides, if it isn't Owen, then who's going to be next? Me? Bowen? You? What are we going to do when they torture someone to the point that they start talking? It's only a matter of time, Trevor! No matter which way you cut it, this won't end well!"

Trevor put his hands up. "Reese, believe me, I'm sympathetic to your situation with Owen. I don't want to see him in there anymore than you do. But we have to think a little more strategically right now. If we attack a marine platoon, we are going to bring the full weight of Javan power on our heads and that won't be good for any of us."

Reese shook his head. "It was always going to come to that, Trevor. Did you think we could just continue to chip away at the Javans until they get tired enough that they leave Tyrol alone? Fuck no! They are going to keep coming back with more force until all of Tyrol unites to throw them out. This is the next escalation."

"It's too soon," said Trevor. "Now I've been in contact with other Movement members in other local towns. While the Ruthenian gold helps to finance our needs, there's still a lack of fighting materials to wage a true war. Did you forget that Tyroleans are banned from owning weapons unless they've served in the Javan armed forces? We have a lack of weaponry, ammunition, and hell even supplies to outfit a proper army. It's too soon."

"War is never going to be on anyone's timetable," argued Reese. "But you want to know what I think? The victors in war go to the side that wants it the most. The side that's willing to struggle past the point of exhaustion, past the point of pride, past all rationality. You know as well as I do that Tyrol deserves to be free. Everyone in Amboy, and Tyrol too for that matter, know this to be true. And if we allow ourselves to be cowed away by an escalation in force, then our purpose isn't as strong as we think it is."

Trevor let out a deep breath as he allowed Reese's words to sink in. The man had a point. Trevor's desire to keep the war small and localized would only hold for so long, especially if the Javans kept losing men.

Each side would continue to escalate until armies formed and battles were fought. Sooner or later, one side would lose, but it was inevitable to deny that the tension would deflate after enough time.

It was always going to be war.

"Okay, so say you're right about that," conceded Trevor. "What do we do about Owen? There's a lot of firepower in that barracks, and we don't exactly have the element of surprise here. They'll be on the lookout for militia or likely sabotage. How do we bust out Owen?"

Reese shook his head. "I'm not talking about just busting out Owen. I'm talking about taking them all out! The entire platoon, gone! That's the only way we can make sure we free all those that have been taken already."

"Tell me your plan then."

"We have enough men to lead an ambush," said Reese. "A few hundred men would be more than enough to take down a platoon with little casualties. Plus we have all the ammunition that we captured from the supply convoy so it's not like we need to worry about conservation of bullets."

"We might have to worry about that if this turns into an all-out war," countered Trevor.

"Let's worry about tomorrow's problems tomorrow," said Reese. "We can do this right now and get my brother out with our current resources. Yes, we might have more dead simply because we're attacking marines, but won't it be worth it, Trevor? Isn't Tyrol worth this?"

It was a question that Trevor found hard to answer. Of course, his home country was worth the possible bloodshed, but was this the way he really wanted a wider war to be kicked off? Or could there be another way of getting the detainees released without fighting, giving them the chance to get better supplied before war did break out?

"You're not going to like my answer, but I want to think about this for another day," said Trevor while watching Reese's head fall in response. "I don't want to do anything too rash just yet, but let me assure you that the Javans will answer for taking your brother and all those other Tyroleans. I can promise you that, Reese. Just let me think of how I want to do this and come see me tomorrow afternoon."

*****

The Swabian capital city of Dagobern wasn't used to military occupation. In fact, it had been nearly five hundred years since the last major army besieged the city and ultimately took it. That army had been a foreign one, made up of the hated Galicians and their allies in Picardy, Carinthia, and Apulia.

This new occupational army was entirely Swabian in nature, and they were made up of men from the islands of Cormfeld and Selz predominantly. The victorious army of Lord Regaulfus Avila was in complete control of the city, occupying every checkpoint in and out of the capital.

Even the legendary Emperor's Guard, the preeminent military force in the entire empire, had been completely destroyed in the fighting, its legions being trampled by the overwhelming numbers of Avila's army. The small portion of the Guard not in the city was engaged days after the city was taken and defeated in detail, as were the armies of the other lords that were already with them.

With Avila the master of the main island, all the other arriving lords soon found out about the change in regime. The brilliance was that Avila's plan played out just the way he expected it to. The piecemeal arrival of forces to the island were quickly overawed at the sight of his army in charge of the city and any resistance was quickly snuffed out. With the lords being caught by surprise, many of them were all too willing to acknowledge that Aurelius was no longer the emperor, changing their allegiance to the erstwhile Lord of Cormfeld.

Those that did bother to fight back were quickly dealt with. The Lord of Nantz made a brave but foolish attempt to assault the palatial hill against Avila's forces. Their numbers were nowhere near the amount needed to undertake such an attack, and they were crushed brutally once they were pushed all the way back to the sea. They surrendered after taking nearly eighty percent casualties, but Avila commanded the entire army to be put to death for the attempt—a staunch warning to any who might try to repeat the same action with a larger force.

Without any significant resistance, Avila found himself the lord of the entire city. And with the other Swabian lords coming forward to swear fealty to him, Avila assumed the trappings of the empire, including the stewardship of the imperial throne. While a coronation was set for a date in the future, the new emperor went to work immediately to stabilize his empire.

Of course, the most pressing business was what to do with the former emperor, Aurelius, who was now languishing in the imperial dungeons at the extreme basement of the palace. As long as Aurelius was alive, he could be a threat to Avila's rule, and for that reason, there was an immediate need to destroy the old man. Before that could happen, Avila wished to flaunt his new trappings in front of his predecessor, if only to add insult to the already present specter of death.

It was late in the evening when Avila made the short journey down to the dungeon, all the while sporting the imperial robes of the emperor. His escort that evening were two of the newest members of the rapidly reforming Emperor's Guard. These two men were from Avila's former household guard, newly promoted to the positions since they were trustworthy after so many years of service. In fact, quite a number of those in Avila's army had already been moved over to the Guard, rebuilding the organization into something that could once again defend the capital (and hopefully do it better than Aurelius' Guard).

When Avila was admitted to the small cell that held the former emperor, he was shocked to see Aurelius start to laugh upon sight of him.

"I would think that a man in your predicament wouldn't have much use for comedy in a time like this," said Avila stiffly, looking down at the ragged form of Aurelius. He looked a lot different now from the last time that Avila saw him, begging at his feet like a cowed slave. Aurelius had a bloody face back then but without the blood, you could at least see how he could have been emperor.

Now, Aurelius wore nothing but tattered rags. His beard was so unkempt that Avila didn't doubt that some fleas had made a home within it. His bruises looked slightly better, but it didn't make up for the battered ego or the look in the former emperor's empty gaze.

"Don't you look fancy now, Regaulfus," said Aurelius with a sneer. "Do you think that wearing my clothes will make you emperor?"

"I think I've already made myself emperor," replied Avila. "Due in part to my own strength but also due to a lack of your own."

"You won't fully be emperor until you've killed me," snapped Aurelius. "Wearing my clothes is just a sham. But then again, you always did have delusions of grandeur."

Avila cracked a smile. "We have some time before I kill you, so I'll indulge your insolence for the time being. Why don't you expand a little more on thesedelusions?"

"As if I needed to," shot back Aurelius. "You've wanted my throne since you knew it was attainable for you. Don't think that I didn't know any better for the last several years, Regaulfus. Even when you came to Dagobern all the months ago, I knew what you were up to. You were always jealous of my power. You always wanted my throne."

It was Avila's turn to laugh and he let out a hearty chuckle before he replied. "That was always your problem, Aurelius. You think too small. You think I just wanted your throne? That's laughable. I want it all. I want to take Swabian power to heights it's never been to before. Your throne was only the first step in my plan."

"And how would you try to do that?"

"You never saw the bigger picture," said Avila. "When it came to Swabia or Galicia or the wider world in general. We live in different times, Aurelius. Swabian power is on the march. Look what I've been able to do just with my own forces. Picardy is nearly on its knees, and with it, Carinthia. Galicia has been neutered and Apulia has no army. Swabia is powerful enough to take the entire West. Why don't we take it? Are we not owed the world after all that we've been through?"

"It'll never be that easy," said Aurelius with a shake of his head. "You haven't grasped half the concepts that you're talking about, Regaulfus."

"And you have?" sneered Avila. "Little good it did you. The only result for you was that you get to occupy this empty cell by yourself, counting the hours until I snuff out your life. Don't pretend like you see the bigger picture. If you did, our roles would be reversed."

Once again, Aurelius shook his head. "I hope for Swabia's sake that you'll understand someday. That is, if you aren't destroyed by it first. You can't strike out in every direction and hope to gain victory. I was content to ignore your philandering in Sorella or Andalucia because there was no strategic importance to them. At least, nothing that could affect my level. But when you start talking about striking Picardy and Carinthia in addition to Sorella, that's where your inexperience reveals itself. Do you not remember what happened the last time a coalition formed against Swabia?"

"This is nothing like that war," argued Avila, his voice rising louder. "It's not the same circumstances so don't pretend like it is! Apulia has no army! Galicia has no will!"

"Armies can be rebuilt!" yelled Aurelius, pushing up to his feet. "Willpower can be restored! Give all of them a useful enemy, and you will find yourself on the receiving end of their weaponry! You can't be so blatant and nonchalant about whom you choose as your enemies. The same power that you maintain doesn't exist anymore can easily be reforged. Don't think this rapprochement with the Galicians will prevent it from happening. You know they are dogs that can't be trusted. They will turn on you like they always have. Once there is a threat on the Swabian throne, they will bind the rest of the West against us!"

"And what was your solution, Aurelius? Would you have us linger on the periphery, only taking the scraps that are thrown to us like a sickly dog?" Avila pounded his chest. "I will make Swabia what she deserves to be! I will remake her as a preeminent world power, and I will see the Swabian banner planted in each of the corners of the world!"

"And you think there will be no one there to stop you? Do you think our traditional enemies will fall over to accede to Swabian greatness? Do you think the world will simply look the other way while you cast your boot over the face of it?"

Avila started to laugh again. "I care not what the rest of the world thinks, nor what you think, Aurelius. In a few days, you will be dead, and as far as I'm concerned, the stain on the imperial throne will have been erased.

"Quite the opposite," said Aurelius softly. "You will make it worse."

Avila sneered. "I'll do what you couldn't. And I'll be remembered as the one emperor who took Swabia to greatness. The one emperor who overthrew Aurelius the Impotent, as I fully intend for you to be called moving forward. And I will sit on the throne of a truly global empire, the first ruler of all."

"Aurelius the Impotent," said Aurelius in a whisper. "I almost pity you, Regaulfus. I thought you were just power-hungry but I see now that you are quite mad. You have no idea what will happen once you strike out of these borders. Our enemies will unite and you will find their power quite overwhelming."