Fourth Vector Ch. 32

"Go, go, go," urged Trevor to his men as they quickly crossed the ground and came up against the barbed wire fencing of the camp. "Get the cutters and get through this wire!"

Trevor's men worked in tandem. Several groups of men kept up covering fire while those with the cutters made quick work of the wire and got into the camp. Toward the center, Trevor could see Zach's men in the center doing the same thing on the south side of the camp. Despite the ill feeling about this one, it appeared they'd achieved surprise.

Even with their good fortune, the Javans would not give up that easily. Groups of them made several last stands at different points of the camp. Trevor and two nearby squads were briefly pinned down as a group of marines poured fire on their position. It became obvious by one look at the marines that this attack wasn't expected. Many of them were getting settled in for the night. Half didn't have helmets while a good three quarters didn't even have their boots on.

"Goddamnit, someone give us some covering fire!" yelled Trevor from his group. His yells of help were soon answered by a group of Tyroleans that unloaded on the Javan position from his left. With their attention diverted, Trevor was able to get his head up long enough to fire off several quick bursts, taking down one marine with a shot in the gut.

The position was cleared with deadly automation, Trevor's men moving forward without a single obstacle to stop them entirely. With the sounds of gunfire starting to die down, it didn't take them long to find the prisoner quarters.

The facilities that were marked as holding the Tyrolean prisoners were ramshackle. They looked like they were thrown up in less than a day, and Trevor had no doubt that the conditions inside probably looked as poor as they did on the outside. He remembered the sights of the basement in Amboy, the one that Owen Bach died in, and he fought hard to get to the camps.

"Come on, let's open up a path! We need to get these prisoners out of here!"

After clearing the last bits of resistance in his sector, the men arrived at the front doors to the first prisoner building. Trevor directed his men to open the doors carefully in case of a trap, and once inside, several squads moved forward to clear the building. No sounds of fighting came from inside, a promising sign, but he also didn't hear any sounds of relieved prisoners at the idea of being rescued.

It was almost too quiet inside, and Trevor feared the worst that they'd all been killed or incapacitated.

When he went inside, he realized it was even worse than that.

The building was completely empty. There were no prisoners inside. The Tyroleans gave each other confused looks before Trevor realized the error.

At that moment, the sounds of gunfire exploded from the hill. Trevor didn't have to look outside to realize what was happening.

"It's a trap! Get back to the river!"

*****

Just a short distance away, hidden in the thick underbrush on the hill behind the prisoner camp, Colonel Roland Smart of the 27th Marine Regiment laid in waiting. His eyes were on the camp below, witnessing firsthand the attack of the Tyrolean force upon the camp.

Next to him were scores of other men, all of them carefully hidden in the thick brush--nearly two regiments' worth of men. Getting them to this point undetected had been the hardest part. It required setting up a trap that would be too good for the Tyroleans to resist.

After all, who wouldn't spring at the chance to release some civilian hostages? Roland guessed the Tyroleans would put together a plan to rescue them after hearing about the existence of the camp from the Javan prisoners, men whom Roland had put together to lure the Tyroleans in with talk about the hostages.

It worked better than he ever imagined, and when the report came to him of the Tyroleans being on the move, Roland positioned his men on this small hill in order to remain hidden, forbidding anyone from drawing attention to themselves. That meant for the last couple days, they went without fires or forages, holding in tight to the hillside where they could be shrouded from their enemy.

There were several close calls. At one point, a Tyrolean patrol came within five feet of two hidden marines. One cough or hiccup would have given away the position but their secrecy survived. And now through this small clearing, Roland could watch as the Tyroleans came pouring into the camp, largely wiping out the three understrength battalions at the foot of the hill.

"Sir, should we attack now?" asked a captain only a few feet from Roland. "They are overwhelming the camp!"

Roland held up his hand but said nothing more. The meaning was obvious. They were to continue to hold their position until the right moment. When they revealed themselves to the rebels, Roland wanted the moment to absolutely crush their morale. He wanted them to see that the fake prisoner buildings they'd constructed were totally empty, and only then, when they began to question the intelligence of attacking the camp, he would swoop in and crush them totally.

Today was the day he was going to end the rebellion. Today was the day he was finally going to catch the rebel leader, Trevor Downing, and put him to death for his troublemaking.

Roland shifted slightly in his position as he watched several squads of Tyroleans burst through the doors of the first prisoner building. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. As they ceased firing their weapons, Roland pushed to his feet.

"Do it now! Attack! Attack! Attack! Send those Tyrolean rebel fucks to their graves!"

*****

In the span of a minute, everything changed.

The lull in fighting that occurred once they'd entered the prisoner buildings and found them empty evaporated totally as the racket of firepower soon descended on them from the hill. Trevor watched in horror as the presumed empty and impassable underbrush of the hill suddenly became alive with enemy soldiers, all of them rushing headlong to attack Trevor's force in the camp.

At the drop of a hat, the hunter became the hunted.

Mortars exploded all around them as Trevor gave orders to focus on the hillside. What had started as such an organized attack devolved into chaos at the sudden appearance of even more Javans. Trevor couldn't begin to count them all. But he estimated at least a regiment, possibly two, were now entering the fray which meant his advantage in numbers had evaporated as he was now being pushed back.

It turned into a near bloody rout. Those Tyroleans closest to the hillside were devastated upon contact. Seeing the situation for what it was, Trevor began to order the men to pull back. They didn't need to be told twice. Many of them scrambled headlong for the river, quickly splashing across to the safety of the other side. With his flank in the process of extraditing itself, Trevor moved across to the center where he found Zach's men still in the process of fighting the Javans.

They were making a poor show of it. Casualties were heavy. A group that surrounded Zach were receiving increasing amounts of pressure as the marines centered on the position.

"Zach, we have to pull back!" yelled Trevor, his hand going to the other man's shoulder.

Zach shook his head wildly. "Nonsense, we can still win this! We just have to fend off the last of these bastards!"

"Those bastards laid this trap for us. We have to get out and safeguard the integrity of the army," countered Trevor. "If we stay here, we die!"

"We've come all this way, Trevor! We can't leave without the hostages!"

Trevor yanked at his shoulder. "There are no hostages! We've been tricked!"

Zach yanked back, determined to continue firing with his men. Trevor swore at him as he realized that his center was going to stay here and likely get routed on their own. He looked across to the other side of the camp, thankfully seeing Nina's men doing the same thing his were doing--splashing back across the river in a full retreat.

Just as Trevor was contemplating a serious gesture to get Zach's attention, he saw the other co-commander of his army fall to the ground. A stunned look appeared on Zach's face as his own blood soon spilled out onto the grass beneath him.

Whoever had shot him had pierced his temple, killing him instantly.

The killing of Zach galvanized his men. Their discipline broke in that moment and they lost all confidence in keeping the battle going.

"Across the river now!" yelled Trevor, seeing scores of men break toward their own escape route.

With all hopes of victory dashed, Trevor's main goal became to keep his army alive to fight another day. It wasn't the easiest task either since the marines were hot on their tails. At several points, Trevor thought they would be overrun only to have a timely throw of a grenade decimate the front ranks of the attackers.

The Tyrolean Army went splashing across the river while using the darkness as their protector to escape the fury of the marines. It was here that fate threw them a small break in fortune. The Javan marines, now on unfamiliar ground and without much in the way of light, began to hang back. Their chase ended some time after Trevor's former left flank splashed across the larger river, retreating back to the hills from where they started their attack.

By this time, the Tyroleans were able to establish a jagged defense across the hilltop, killing any marine that didn't immediately end the chase. As total darkness consumed all of them, Trevor took stock of what they'd lost.

The post-battle counts revealed a loss of nearly five hundred men, nearly a quarter of those that were alive this morning. A great many of those remaining were wounded and required medical attention. Any other commander might have halted for the night to lick their wounds, but Trevor insisted they keep moving back to the fortification, wanting to put some serious ground between them and the Javans just in case the attack wasn't fully over.

The following day, they saw no sign of the Javans. If they intended to follow, their plans changed. That evening, Trevor allowed his men to rest, many of them near zombies on their feet after almost forty-eight hours without rest.

After setting aside an area for those wounded men in litters, Trevor retired to his tent.

He felt the blood on his hands. Their blood on his hands.

It was all he could do to not hang his head in shame. Once again, his confidence about his control of this army was questioned. This time, he didn't know if he would have an answer for it.

Even now, one of his co-commanders was dead. Zach had been crucial to the formation of the army. Could they really continue now without him?

The flap of his tent was thrown open suddenly and Trevor heard the sounds of movement as someone sat down on the cot next to him. He didn't look over to see who it was. The scent alone told him all he needed to know.

He felt Nina wrap her arms around him. When he finally looked at her, she had tears in her eyes.

"Tonight, we mourn our friend," she said with a sniffle. "We mourn Zach and those who've died."

"And tomorrow? What do we do tomorrow, Nina?"

She gave him a fierce look, the kind that reminded him of her reputation. "Tomorrow, we will go out and avenge their deaths. We will find the people who sprung this trap on us and we put them in the ground."

Trevor snorted. "Easier said than done. Another battle like that and the army will be lost. We've lost another five hundred men."

She put her hand on his leg. "It won't be easy. No one said it would be. But we can defeat them, Trevor. We've proved that time and time again."

There was wisdom in her words. More often than not, they'd bettered their Javan counterparts in just about any engagement. Was that why this defeat stung so hard for Trevor? They'd come to believe they were invincible on the battlefield and that illusion had taken a severe beating.

Just because they were down didn't mean they were out. He couldn't let their sacrifices be for nothing, especially not a friend like Zach.

"We owe it to him," said Trevor finally. "We owe it to Zach and all the men. We need to make the Javans pay for this. We need to show them that they aren't the only ones that can spring a trap."

Nina actually smiled. "Do you already have something in mind?"

Trevor thought for a moment and then nodded. "I've got a plan."

*****

It was an overcast morning in Arezzo.

Jack struggled to see where the sun even might be, so thick was the cloud cover that morning that it made it just about impossible to tell. A light rain had fallen earlier, right around the time that he and Bill had come aboard theCanaria for the jaunt to Samara, but now the skies were still but gray.

He hoped it wasn't an omen for their trip to Samara.

"It would figure the morning would start off like this," said Bill from the bridge of the ship while they awaited the ship's sendoff. "Great beginnings often start inauspiciously."

Jack raised an eyebrow as he looked at his friend. "Wise words from you this morning. I didn't realize this trip would put you in such a good mood."

Bill started to laugh. "You can't deny that there's something fun about the whole thing, right? Dashing across the world or going to plead for help from another country. Yes, it's a war and yes we need the Samarans, but something about this whole thing makes me feel alive. I haven't felt this way in years."

Jack joined him with an easy grin. "You should have been with me all of last year. From the time I spent ending the civil war in Sorella to uniting all the tribes of Andalucia and finally to fighting off the plague in Picardy, you would've had the time of your life."

"Someday, I hope you sit down and write about your entire journey out here," said Bill. "The whole thing once we're done fighting. It's something I'd like to read."

Jack chuckled. "It will be a long one."

"We've got plenty of time," replied the older lord before gesturing out the window. "Look down there. At least Santino is on time."

The two of them watched as the Apulian Director stepped onto the ship from the gangplank. He had several bags being carried behind him by his servant but he looked altogether pleased to be there despite it not being his choice to negotiate with the Samarans.

"He looks almost as chipper as you do this morning," said Jack.

Bill started to laugh. "It'll be infectious, just you watch. After all, it shouldn't take us long to get to Samara anyway. A quick journey down the Slot and then a day overland to the city of Dobele. We'll be there before we know it."

"Have you ever been there before?" asked Jack.

Bill nodded. "Just once, about thirty years ago. Although I'm sure the country has changed much since then. I remember it being an interesting place. Funny sort of people, the Samarans."

"Let's hope they're not so funny that we can't rope them into the alliance," said Jack sourly.

"Speaking of the war, what are we doing for security while we're there?" asked Bill. "I didn't see any soldiers come aboard the ship with us."

"I figured we could rely on the navy for our security on this one," said Jack. "Besides, it's not like we're going to a war-torn country. In that regard, let me introduce you to my head of security. Or rather, let's say a re-introduction."

Jack grabbed the radio. "Ben, you can come up here."

Bill's face broke into a smile once Lt. Ben Torben entered the bridge. The one-time jailer that was responsible for Jack's captivity on the way to Kalmar, he'd been the critical factor that swung Russell Taylor over to Jack's side, likely saving all of their skins from certain death. Since that day, Jack had spent a considerable amount of time with the young boyish lieutenant, liking the change of personality that occurred since their first meeting.

"Good morning to you, Your Majesty," said Ben with a small bow before he turned to look at Bill. "And you as well, my lord."

Jack growled. "Come on, Ben, we've been through this."

"I know, I know, but I'm an officer," replied Ben. "It's in my nature to show respect for the chain of command. You can't fault me for that."

Jack didn't. He liked the man too much to give him any trouble for something so small. Ben was the kind of subordinate officer that every commander dreamed of--capable, intelligent, personable, and utterly reliable. Ben set a good example in everything that he did, and Jack already had big plans for his future beyond being a simple naval officer.

"Not at all," said Jack finally. "Are you ready to make this short jaunt? You're not going to put me in the hold again, are you?"

Ben grinned. "I think we can get some better accommodations for you this time."

Jack spent some more time speaking with Ben before the lieutenant disappeared below deck. A short while later, theCanaria raised anchor from the shallow waters outside Arezzo while the commander in charge put in his send-off to Russell.

"Safe travels and get back soon," said Russell through the radio. "Jack, if you can hear me, good luck out there."

Jack grabbed the radio. "Take care of the fleet while we're gone," he replied. "We're all counting on you."

"Likewise, Jack. Likewise."

TheCanaria soon built up speed as Jack and Bill looked out on the open ocean near the bow of the ship. At that moment, Jack could only reflect on his changed fortunes in the last few months. The thought of being at the front of any other vessel beyond a Javan one was a foreign concept back then. Now, he was in command of a Galician task force. He had a Galician army at his back, and he was duly at war with the Swabians instead of just running an undeclared war from the shadows.

When had things changed so resolutely?

TheCanaria split the waters in front of her quickly as she made for the other side of the Slot. Despite the overcast morning, a hint of sun seemed visible on the Samaran coast several miles away. For Jack, it seemed like the omen he was looking for.

"Are we doing the right thing, Bill?" he asked finally.

When Bill didn't look over, Jack did. "Going to Samara?"

Bill answered quickly and firmly. "Without question. It's what needs to be done."

Jack nodded. "That's all I needed to hear."

*****

"Keep steady, boys. Not one step back. Remember your training!"

Bancroft moved from group to group, carefully praising the abilities of his men while providing steady motivation as the other Javan regiment attacked their position next to the palace. The initial assault of that attacking regiment had been deadly, with incoming mortars just shredding the marines' position. However, with a defensive line now roughly established, the marines were holding their own.

"Sir, we have heavy pressure on this street here," yelled one of the captains as Bancroft neared. Bancroft didn't need to look up to know the man was telling the truth. His two squads were pinned down behind some rubble that had been created as a result of the mortars and what looked like a platoon of army soldiers was trying to flush them out.

"I'll grab some more men to help you," said Bancroft. "Don't let them get through! Remember, if we lose here today, we all die! You cannot fail me!"

If the captain had any thoughts about that statement, he kept them to himself. Bancroft raced through a small alleyway to grab some more men to pull back to help their comrades. Once those extra squads joined the fray, the attack down the street ran out of steam.

It was largely the case all around the palace. Bancroft's three marine regiments were able to hold their ground against the single army regiment, and soon that army formation broke and ran, leaving the entire city in their control.

"Sir, the city is now yours," said a triumphant General Zander as he reported in a short while later. "The remains of the army regiment are routing away from the city to the northeast."