Fourth Vector Ch. 34

"How do you feel about positioning the Picards and Carinthians on the flank?" asked Greg. "They have the most experience countering the tanks and we can rely on them to deal with them in the heat of battle."

Liking what he heard, Jack nodded his head. "Good, let's brief the men. Tomorrow, we're either going to beat back the Swabian beast or die trying."

*****

On the other side of the world, Vice Admiral Walt McKenzie was trying to figure out how to tame a different beast. It had been nearly a month since his forces had arrived outside the Occitanian capital city of Montauban, laying a joint land and sea siege of the beleaguered enemy forces.

So far, that siege hadn't borne any fruit. The Occitanians showed no signs of surrender and from all reports on the inside of the city, they still had plenty of food to contest any serious discussion of surrender.

Out in the harbor, the remains of most of the Occitanian fleet were bottled up, lacking manpower or the will to engage the superior Javan forces ringing them from all sides.

The only thing that remained was their surrender and it couldn't come soon enough. McKenzie didn't enjoy fighting in such northern climates. The air was always brisk and chilly at any time of day, and even now most of the sailors that were in the infirmary were there because of frostbite.

The sooner that this war wrapped up, the better.

Even still, thoughts of coming back to Java were equally troubling for McKenzie, as they were for most Javans who didn't know what kind of home they'd be coming back to. With Admiral Bancroft's ascension to the imperial throne, tensions in Belfort were running high. That couldn't have been more illustrated by the new proscription lists that had come out the day before.

Many Javans alive couldn't remember the last time a proscription had happened. It was an old practice, recently revived by Emperor Bancroft, that sought to punish, banish, or kill any man that was deemed an enemy of the state. Any man who found his name on such a list was fair game, able to be killed outright by any Javan without punishment. The killer was then allowed to have a tenth of the dead man's material possessions while the remaining ninety percent, including hard assets such as property, were given back to the state. In this way, Bancroft was able to fill his coffers with wealth and get rid of his political enemies at the same time.

The first two lists were troubling enough but they mostly dealt with old bottom-feeders that serviced the old emperor. This latest list was more aimed at the military.

McKenzie didn't know a single admiral to make the list but several commodores and other junior officers were there, as well as some generals in the army.

The effect on the armed forces was terrifying. Loyal soldiers who had always done the right thing by Emperor Charles soon found themselves having to run for their lives. Some people who'd never expected to draw the ire of Bancroft found themselves on the list as well, joined by what some claimed were enemies of convenience—men who hadn't slighted Bancroft but were too wealthy to escape notice. They were quickly killed so the state could take their wealth.

It was a stressful time to be a Javan and on one hand, McKenzie could be thankful that he was still here outside of Montauban instead of back in the capital.

For this morning though, he was awaiting orders from the Admiralty. Every morning, he still received a dispatch with that day's instructions, although of late, those instructions had been to maintain the siege around the city. McKenzie suspected something big was coming though and when the dispatch arrived, he wasn't surprised.

ATTN: VICE ADMIRAL WALTER MCKENZIE

COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF, SECOND FLEET

THE SIEGE OF MONTAUBAN NEEDS TO BE COMPLETED. YOU ARE TO EMPLOY EVERY TACTIC YOU CAN TO ACHIEVE THIS GOAL IN THE QUICKEST POSSIBLE FASHION. BE ENTIRELY RUTHLESS IN YOUR METHODS. BOMBARD THE CITY DAY AND NIGHT UNTIL THEY SURRENDER. SIMILAR INSTRUCTIONS ARE BEING GIVEN TO REAR ADMIRAL REYNOLDS WHO IS OPERATING AGAINST THE RUTHENIANS.

THIS WAR NEEDS TO END IMMEDIATELY. SEE IT DONE.

EMPEROR PERCIVAL I BANCROFT

JAVAN EMPIRE

McKenzie read the dispatch twice to make sure he understood. Bancroft wanted him to be "entirely ruthless" in his methods? To what end?

Did the war need to be ended so quickly that they needed to resort to such barbaric tactics?

The answer to that question appeared to be yes when McKenzie conferred with the Javan general in charge of the siege later that morning. He'd received similar instructions, mostly detailing how he was to order continuous assaults against the city until they broke through the defenses.

It was a shocking change of pace in a conflict that had mostly followed the rules of civility until that point. However, it was quickly becoming standard operation for the new bloodthirsty emperor.

It was times like these that McKenzie wished he had his peers to speak with about such tactics. Vice Admirals Harvey Kuntz or Gary Henrik would have had plenty to say about such orders if they were still alive. Kuntz in particular was always especially vocal, and McKenzie found himself missing his council more than most.

He even would have welcomed a talk with Jack Easterbrook but the news from the Fourth Vector had been that he'd disappeared months ago with no one knowing what happened to him. In doing so, McKenzie had ceased sending him transmissions about Bancroft (code named Thunderstorm) in order to make sure they didn't fall into the wrong hands. How he wished to be able to seek Jack's guidance now!

McKenzie let out a small sigh and strummed his fingers against his desk. How had Java managed to change so much in just a few short years? While never perfect, at least the empire used to be a fair place to live, one where anyone with ability could earn a living free from tyranny or oppression.

The Java of today didn't resemble the Java of old. Every progressive day seemed to be more oppressive than the last. McKenzie could only wonder what was in store for him once the Occitanian operation was completed.

Would the day ever come that he couldn't fight for Java anymore? Would the ideals that he cherished so much ever put him in direct confrontation with his leadership in an increasingly idealless country?

Both questions didn't have easy answers, at least answers that he wanted to seriously confront right now. He would take it one day at a time as long as he could until he got to the point where he could retire from the navy and hopefully take up an isolated life somewhere by the sea.

The only question was whether he would live to see that day or not?

*****

A continent away, Emperor Percival I Bancroft sat on the third floor balcony in the imperial palace in Belfort. Outside the balcony was a splendid scene of nature—the rising sun was now illuminating the tree cover of the forest behind the palace. The warm shroud of light filtered through the leaves, making some of them glow in the process before casting an interesting shadow upon the floor of the forest.

Bancroft sighed contently as he witnessed the dawning of a new day, especially another day with him at the pinnacle of Javan power.

It had taken him a long time to reach this level of influence and there had certainly been setbacks. It was only two short months ago that he was wallowing away in his filth in Blackgate prison, his situation all but hopeless.

How ironic it all turned out to be.

With another long sigh, Bancroft turned his attention back to the list in front of him. It was a list of names about twenty deep and just now he was tapping his pen against the list in an effort to think of more names to add.

This was no list of merit or happy circumstance. No, this was a list of terror—a list of fear that caused even the bravest of men to run for their very lives. It would be the fourth such list that he'd put out, a so-called proscription list because once your name was proscribed on the list, there was no future in Java for you.

In all honesty, Bancroft delighted in creating the lists. He enjoyed getting a chance to humiliate one-time rivals and other malignant forces in Javan society. He saw it as part of his role to rid the country of those that would seek her destruction from within, allowing him to return Java to her traditional glory.

It was also a boon to his coffers. Gold was flowing into the treasury, something that was desperately needed after the terrible costs of war. Old, rich men were running for their lives because of a one-time derogatory comment made toward Bancroft and in return, their lifetime fortunes would go towards the payout of Bancroft's armies.

It was a beautiful operation, one that Bancroft couldn't be happier with.

One such instance was the name of the man he was currently adding to the list as the twenty-first name. Wendell Poincare was a media magnate, the owner of the largest news chain in Belfort and the second largest in all of Java. Wendell was a slick operator, one that was used to being around powerful people and using his gravitas to obtain stories before anyone else.

He was also a silent snake, one that would do anything or print anything in order to be the first to do it. Nearly ten years ago when Bancroft was promoted to the head of the Javan Navy, Wendell printed in his paper that Bancroft was nothing more than an opportunist that wouldn't even fill the shoes of his predecessor.

How those words from so long ago would soon come back to bite him.

"Emperors may forgive but they never forget," mumbled Bancroft under his breath. "His wealth would do nicely."

It took Bancroft another half hour before he had a list of fifty names, which he soon handed over to Mortimus for publishing. Mortimus was an easy selection as his personal page, and since he served Charles, he already knew the customs and traditions of his position. Bancroft chose to retain him to maintain some balance with all the changes, and so far the fat idiot hadn't disappointed him too much.

While he was on the subject of disappointment, Admiral Clark was another story. Bancroft elevated him to the position of Senior Advisor to the Emperor, one where he would influence over every matter in the empire—effectively making him the number two man in the entire country.

One might be tempted to think that Clark would be thankful for receiving such accolades but he was anything but. The same petulant attitude that he'd displayed ever since Blackgate reared its ugly head again, and Clark had been anything but an effective number two for the first couple months of Bancroft's reign.

At one point, Clark's behavior agitated him so much that he even considered adding his name to the list but he wasn't ready to do that just yet. Bancroft owed his life to Clark and those roots ran very deep.

No, he would give Clark another chance but sooner or later, his number two man would need to be reminded that his patience wasn't infinite.

It was only the bravest of men that stood in the path of Emperor Bancroft.

Not unsurprisingly, Bancroft's next visitors happened to be the two men he was just thinking of. Admiral Clark arrived at the balcony while Mortimus shadowed directly behind him, the page carrying what looked like a picnic basket of beautiful wicker and tied with a bow. Bancroft eyed it with some suspicion as it was held away from him, but one thing was for certain as soon as it was brought closer—the smell coming from the basket was terrible.

"What the hell is in there?" asked Bancroft as he fanned his nose and gestured to the basket. "It smells like someone left the meat out in the sun too long."

Clark nodded his head. "In a manner of speaking, yes. This basket was found right outside the gate to the palace this morning by the guard on duty. He had no idea where it came from and he first suspected that it might be a bomb. However, the smell of the basket quickly ruled out that option."

"Then what is it?" snapped Bancroft. "Quickly, I don't have all day!"

Clark gestured to Mortimus who then walked forward with careful steps. He took the lid of the basket and opened it.

Bancroft pushed away from it as soon as it was open. It was quickly apparent why it stunk so much. Inside the basket were the remains of several men but they were in pieces more than they were whole. There were several sets of ears, eyes, and even a multitude of bloody noses, all arraigned inside as if carefully placed for a summer picnic. It was clear who the men were by the array of military patches inside the basket itself.

These men had all been members of the Javan military.

The gruesome scene was equal parts horrific and nauseating, and Mortimus snapped the lid shut almost as quickly as he'd opened it.

"Why did you bring that here?" snapped Bancroft with a dismissive wave of the hand. "You blithering idiot, you could have told me what was inside. You didn't need to show me!"

Mortimus turned red and retreated, gasping for words. Luckily for him, Clark started speaking first.

"We thought it important that you see it for yourself," said the advisor briskly. "It also came with a note."

"I suppose you're going to tell me what the note said. Or are you going to make me guess?" asked an increasingly annoyed Bancroft.

"The note was addressed to you and signed with the name of Trevor Downing, the leader of the Tyrolean resistance," said Clark. "It's a bit ironic, isn't it? They've turned the very same order that you gave on its head."

Bancroft snarled and gestured toward the basket. "Get rid of that this instant. Don't let anyone else see it or it's your life, Mortimus! Put it out with the waste from the kitchens and separate the military patches before you do. If someone finds it, they aren't to know they were military men."

Mortimus looked like he was ready to cry at having to reach into the basket to grab the patches. Nevertheless, he did as he was commanded and quickly left the balcony to carry out his task.

"Fucking barbarians," said Bancroft with a shake of his head. "How dare they mock their emperor? Those Tyroleans have no idea who they're dealing with! I will raze that entire province to the ground. I'll make a desert out of Tyrol, the only people left will be children and slaves!"

"Before that happens, I'm sure they'll manage to make several more baskets of our armed forces," said Clark dryly. "Their resolve leaves little to the imagination. This rebellion has gone on long enough and only seems to be consolidating around this Trevor Downing figure."

Bancroft growled again but said nothing. It wasn't the first time he'd heard the name of Trevor Downing. The so-called leader of the Tyrolean Movement, Downing was the shadowy figure who united the separate resistance bands into something resembling an army. His death was of the highest priorities for Bancroft's administration.

"I want you to double the bounty on Downing's head," said Bancroft finally. "No, triple it. I want everyone that's ever heard the man's name to know the price that can be fetched for killing him. Who knows, we may even get lucky if one of his own people wields the knife."

"My sources in Tyrol tell me that's extremely unlikely," replied Clark. "It would appear that he has the support of the people. No one is willing to admit that they've so much as met him before let alone know his whereabouts. He remains quite untraceable."

"Someone will find him," snapped Bancroft. "And I'll make them a very rich man. I'll give them mansions, cars, boats, and enough gold to last a lifetime."

Clark nodded his head but said no more. After all, he'd been just such a recipient of that kind of treatment. After the first proscription, Clark moved into a luxurious mansion in the rich part of Belfort, one that was owned by a former industrialist. General Zander had also received such largess, being another key instrument to Bancroft's ascension to power.

"These Tyroleans must be brought to justice," said Bancroft. "They are making a mockery of my rule, and as long as we have this discontent in our backyard, we'll never be able to dedicate the entirety of our forces toward the war."

"Perhaps, and this is just speculation on my part, they are only so bold because they saw a weakness in the sudden change of our government," said Clark.

Bancroft's eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting, Clark?"

"I mean this Downing figure is testing you to see how you'll respond to him," replied Clark. "He wants to know if there's any bite to your bark and this is the stick that he means to test you with."

"Of course there will be bite to my bark," said Bancroft. "And we will raze Tyrol to the ground for it."

"So it has been said, but I think he wants to test out the new emperor by himself," said Clark with a shrug of the shoulders. "To me, this looks like his way of feeling you out. I doubt he would have done this to the old emperor."

Bancroft rolled his eyes. "Don't be so naive. The only thing these traitors will understand is force. Force knows no boundaries but our response will be swift and decisive. Put one of our most able generals on it. Let's see how much of a commander this Trevor Downing is when he's faced with real talent on the battlefield."

Bancroft expected Clark to have some flippant reply to that but the advisor only nodded his head and spoke a few words of acknowledgment. However, it was quickly apparent that he wasn't finished when he pulled out another dispatch—this one with a header from the Admiralty.

"I also thought it wise to bring this to your attention once more," said Clark as he passed over the dispatch. "We still haven't had a meaningful update from Task Force 21 in the Fourth Vector. We know that Jack Easterbrook has been found alive and is back in command but no word yet on the fate of the traitors Lt. Colonel Greg Vaughn nor Commander Abigail Wainwright in their actions against a rightful viceroy and captain of Java."

"Refresh my memory," said Bancroft. "Have those two still not been arrested for their actions?"

Clark shook his head. "It would appear that garden variety mutiny is still an acceptable course of action in the Javan Navy."

Bancroft growled. "Like hell it is! What is it with that man, Easterbrook? I gave him everything! Commands he was far too young for! Guidance and a mentorship that marked him as favored above all his peers. And this is how he treats me? I almost expected things to be different once I took over the throne but he seems more determined than ever to spite me!"

"The man quickly bites the hand that feeds him," noted Clark. "In any event, he should be dealt with swiftly. If he won't remove the two traitors from his force, then it seems likely to me that he's been compromised as well. I daresay I remember some gossip from the force that there is some kind of relationship between himself and Wainwright which is probably staying his hand."

Bancroft grunted. "He'll let his dick prevent him from ever coming home in one piece then. He should know better. If that's the case, then he can suffer the same fate as they do. Who is the next most senior officer in command of that task force?"

"That would be Commander Mike Cutter of the cruiserStardust," answered Clark after reviewing the papers. "It would have been Captain Barnabas yet he's been removed from command by Vaughn and Wainwright."

"Good, then I want you to send word to Commander Cutter of theStardust," said Bancroft. "A secret dispatch if you will, one that states he's to take over command of Task Force 21 in the event that Jack Easterbrook doesn't submit to my next message. For that message, make it as blunt as before. I demand that Jack personally send a dispatch with his submission as well as acknowledging that Vaughn and Wainwright will be hung for mutiny. Unless that comes back, he'll be declared an outlaw of the Javan Empire alongside them. Are we clear?"