Fourth Vector Ch. 44

Kat, on the other hand, seemed more nervous than ever after this morning's revelation.

She clung to him after Evelyn was gone, eventually moving to the bed where she wrapped her entire body around his.

"This makes me so uneasy, Jack," she whispered against his ear. "I feel more lost than ever now in regards to this prophecy."

Jack kissed her lightly. "This discovery changes nothing as far as I'm concerned. Maybe it clarifies things a little but it hasn't taught us anything we didn't know, right? Bancroft is still our most dangerous foe and we don't know the outcome of such a war. Nothing else major has changed."

"I don't know how you can be so cavalier about it," said Kat. "This is your life we're talking about, Jack."

Jack gave her a wry smile. 'I know, but we've known that for years now, Kat. Why is it so important now?"

"It was always important," she corrected. "But more so now. You're a father and a husband. You're the king of your country and you've just emerged victorious from the largest war in five hundred years. Why now must destiny demand more of a sacrifice from you?"

Kat's question was apt indeed. What more could Jack sacrifice before he could live in peace? He'd already given so much blood, both in terms of his men and his relatives. What more could he still have left to give?

And would his life even be enough if that was called for?

"We're not going to focus on this now," said Jack as he gently played with a strand of Kat's blonde hair. "What we are going to focus on is preparing for what's in front of us. We have to leave Kalmar soon for Picardy. I'm going to throw myself into my preparations and make sure we give destiny every reason to pick us. There's really no other option we have."

Kat nodded her head but she didn't release her grip on him. Jack couldn't say he blamed her. If she was in the same position, he would have felt the same way.

The more he thought about it, the more he thought that he was just a pawn dancing to the strings of prophecy. How much of what was around them was preordained? And how much could Jack truly influence?

One thing was for certain. He was going to give this war with Bancroft everything he had. If he didn't, there was nothing stopping the mad Javan Emperor from dominating the entire world with all his resources.

If Jack didn't stand up to him, who would?

*****

"I really don't care if the crews are exhausted, Clark. I want those men ready to sail at a moment's notice. We're at war, damnit! I need my best ships on the front line!"

Bancroft brought his fist down hard on his desk to emphasize his point, and it nearly made Clark jump in the process. Looking back, Bancroft had never known Clark to be one that was jumpy but his actions as of lately seemed to reveal that Clark was more fragile than he once gave him credit for.

With recent events, that wasn't as surprising as it used to be. Clark had a habit of screwing up in the past few months, one that showed itself to Bancroft at the most inopportune times.

Today was one of them.

"The crew just got back from their cruise to Occitania yesterday, a mission that has been ongoing for three months," argued Clark. "The men are typically given at least a week's furlough after such a long mission. Why can't we give them a little time to recuperate before we send them back out again?"

Bancroft tried not to grind his teeth. "Because Clark, theRevenge is now my deadliest ship afloat. And I want them on the front lines in case we see any Fourthie shit coming our way from the East! With theRenown not due for service for another month, there's no time to allow theRevenge any furlough."

Bancroft had thought that Clark would have put it together already. Since theRevenge was the first in a series of four of the new, deadly battlecruisers, Bancroft wanted to have at least one in service at any moment. Even a week's furlough was too long, especially when Jack Easterbrook could show up on their eastern shores at any moment.

The sooner theRenown was in service, the better, but for now, they would have to rely on theRevenge.

Clark opened his mouth to protest but Bancroft cut him off.

"Save me the trouble, Clark," snapped the emperor. "I remember a time when you used to just do the things I told you to do without any argument. It seems that time has long since passed but don't think I don't remember how great those days used to be. It leaves me wondering if I need to make another man my deputy. After all, you would be nothing but a traitor if not for me."

Now the shoe was on the other foot. Bancroft watched as Clark silently stewed as a result of those words. The truth of the matter was that the only reason Clark could remotely be considered a traitor was because of his loyalty to Bancroft, helping to spring him from Charles' prison.

If not for Bancroft, Clark would still be a loyal deputy in naval headquarters with no career path. It was only Bancroft's influence that put him as the number two man in all of Java.

Something that Bancroft suspected that Clark had long since forgotten.

"Now just pipe down and do what I told you to," ended Bancroft as he tapped his pen against his desk.

To his credit, Clark didn't protest any further. At least he seemed to know when Bancroft had reached his limit as he usually didn't push things beyond the breaking point.

With the issue with theRevenge satisfied, Bancroft could turn his attention back to the topic that he originally started with--Tyrol.

It made him seethe beyond belief that the Tyrolean rebellion was still ongoing. In fact, it showed no signs of weakening whatsoever, and in the two years of the rebellion, the Tyrolean force became more of a threat by the day.

He'd now sent two armies to destroy Trevor Downing and his ragtag group of rebels, and both armies had been thoroughly ravaged. This last army under General Dennis Ryan had been so destroyed that Bancroft had been forced to reconstitute nearly fifteen regiments in the process, mostly filling them with new and young recruits. During that process, Downing and his men had run rampart over Thessaly, moving first from Worchester, where they disrupted the supply depot to Ruthenia, and then moving throughout the rest of Thessaly.

Along the way, the army took what they needed from the Thessalian population, and Bancroft's spies were now certain that the food and supply issues plaguing the Tyroleans had long since been put to rest.

Most perplexing of the entire affair was the seeming culpability of the Thessalian governor, Franklin Morris, a sniveling and opportunistic creature that Bancroft was long familiar with. He even remembered Charles griping about Morris during his reign, and time hadn't tempered the Thessalian governor.

"Now, about Tyrol," began Bancroft, still tapping his pencil. "It's important to me that we neutralize Tyrol before we're faced with a potential two-front war against Easterbrook. I know the army has been rebuilding in the past six months, and with our other commitments in Occitania and Ruthenia, direct action against the rebels has not been possible. However, we are under a constraint in that we don't know when Easterbrook could show up. I like to think we would have first warning that something might happen from Quiller's Cove, but you know how unreliable Commodore Lucas can be. We need to wipe up the Tyroleans so we can focus full attention on the Fourthies."

"That still might take some time before the army is ready to go again," warned Clark. "General Ryan has been quite clear that he's not ready to go on the offensive just yet."

Bancroft scowled. "He better be ready when I give the command! He should consider himself fortunate that he's still in command after losing most of the last army. If I had someone that I could rely on to replace him with, he'd already be gone but you and I both know that we can't give that job to General Zander."

Clark gave an approving nod to the last statement. In fact, calling Brian Zander a general, the man who'd helped Bancroft to power by seizing the Belfort garrison, was just about as heavy as a stretch as there was.

He should have never been promoted above a colonel at best.

"I will reiterate to General Ryan that he is to assume the offensive as soon as humanly possible," replied Clark, making the note.

"You do that," said Bancroft. "Remind Ryan that these Tyroleans need just one good blow and they'll fall apart. We almost had them on the ropes once and they slipped out of our noose. That cannot be permitted to happen again. Not if we want to take the war to Easterbrook."

Truthfully, if Bancroft had his way, his army would already be over in the Fourth Vector. Not long after his declaration of war on Easterbrook, Bancroft envisioned sending over a great fleet and army to conquer the nations of the Fourth Vector, however, reality had its way of messing up his plans. Just about as soon as the declaration was issued, most of the Javan army force in Java was destroyed by the Tyroleans. Though there were still sizeable forces occupying Ruthenia and Occitania, they were needed there where ongoing resistance was flaring up more and more.

In short, these delays were the real reason why Bancroft had to worry about Easterbrook taking the offensive against him, and he couldn't begin to think about leaving for the Fourth Vector until the major threat of Tyrol was cleared up.

"One more thing," added Bancroft. "You make certain to let Franklin Morris know that I understand the game he's playing. He has not responded to multiple dispatches from the palace. I also don't consider it a coincidence that the small Javan garrisons that dotted Thessaly have all now been expelled. He's always been an opportunistic little shit, and it appears he wants to throw his lot in with the Tyroleans. If that's the case, his fate is settled. Let him know that he has one final chance to rejoin the imperial government or he'll be dealt with severely once this war is over."

"Dealt with severely," repeated Clark as he wrote it down. "I will send the message at once."

"Good," replied Bancroft as the door to his study opened. Into the room came a lovely young brunette with a tight and ravishing body. She immediately made for Bancroft's desk, where she refilled his cup of tea without another word.

Bancroft pursed his lips as he watched the girl out of the corner of his eye. He liked looking at her very much. How could he not with long, shiny dark hair and the most elegant brown eyes that seemed so innocent?

What he disliked the most was that she wasn't Jade. The new girl came into his study and did what she was commanded to do but she made no attempts at friendliness nor did she show her personality whatsoever. That was what had set Jade apart from all the others. That girl combined beauty, grace, and personality into one delightful little package.

And Bancroft had killed her. Despite it being more than six months since her death, Bancroft couldn't help but regret her fate. He was quite certain he'd find another servant that he liked, but until that time, he wished things had turned out differently with Jade.

If only she hadn't wished to run away. And if only those plans didn't involve Michael Bainbridge.

Michael was a more complicated topic, and Bancroft's features hardened at the thought of the sole living heir to the old line of emperors. The revelation that Michael wasn't as stupid as previously thought caught most by surprise, but what was truly shocking was knowing that it was Jade's sexual relationship with Michael that caused the entire ordeal.

And Jade was hardly even cold before Michael had left the palace, a direct violation of the terms under which he was to be allowed to live.

Bancroft would take care of Michael in due time. No one could hide out from his authority in Java for very long but now it appeared that the hydra that confronted Bancroft had three heads.

Michael Bainbridge was the first and most inconsequential.

The other two heads belonged to Trevor Downing and Jack Easterbrook.

No matter what he did, he would ensure the three of them met their ends before this was all said and done.

If only he had reliable deputies that were as motivated and as skillful as he was.

That particular thought reminded him of one thing. He snapped his fingers at Clark.

"One more thing," he added. "Send a message over to Ruthenia to Admiral Reynolds. It's time that he came back to Java."

"I'm sure he'll be pleased to hear that," replied Clark. "His frustration in dealing with the Ruthenian resistance is becoming well-known."

Bancroft waved his hand. "Reynolds is too important to waste on Ruthenian rebels. I have another assignment for him. One that's about to bring him considerably more prestige."

*****

The sight and sounds of death had never been more pleasing to anyone.

At least, that was the thought on Admiral Nick Reynolds' mind as he sat in the central square of the Ruthenian capital city of Merv. In front of him, a large, raised wooden platform stretched on for about fifty feet. For about every five feet or so, there was a small trap door as well as a raised wooden arm above it. On that arm hung a noose, and as of this very moment, ten Ruthenian rebels were now struggling with what remained of their lives.

Two of them at least had the good luck to have their necks snap when the trap doors opened, giving them a merciful death. The other eight weren't so lucky, and Reynolds watched as their faces went from red to blue to purple over the course of several minutes.

Truthfully, Reynolds preferred that they struggled.

It was this same group of Ruthenian rebels that were the masterminds behind all the more recent attacks on the Javan occupiers of the city. They were the ringleaders, and their biggest strike had come against Reynolds personally, killing his mistress in a nighttime bombing attack.

For six months, Reynolds had hunted them down while they moved from target to target, always staying one step ahead of his men.

That is, until this past week when they got sloppy, leaving identifying papers for one of Reynolds' men to pick up. From there, the trail grew hot quickly, leading Reynolds to their hideout where they were all swiftly apprehended.

In normal times, they could be expected to sit for trial but these were far from normal times. As the Viceroy of Ruthenia, Reynolds had authorization to execute any Ruthenian citizen at will, and it was this authority that he used to call for their immediate deaths by the way of hanging.

Justice was now very swift in the land of Ruthenia.

It was all over a mere fifteen minutes after the show began. The very last rebel, a strapping young man of twenty that was ex-Ruthenian Army, was the last to die, choking on what looked like his own bile. The crowd around the platform, mostly Javan officials with a sprinkling of key Ruthenian figures from inside the city, was deathly silent as the ordeal came to a close.

Reynolds didn't plan to stick around after the show was over. Knowing that the job was finished, he chose that moment to go back to his headquarters to get back to work. There was much to be done these days, and there was no doubt that the deaths of ten rebels had most likely spawned twenty more to take their place.

As bad as the rebel situation was, at least there was food for the Javan force to eat. It was just over six months ago that most of the Javan convoys stopped showing up at Merv. It wasn't because they'd been ordered to another port for unloading, but because the main Javan supply base for Ruthenia, the city of Worchester, had fallen under control of the Tyrolean rebel force.

With the city's occupation came the cutting off of all the crucial supplies that Reynolds needed to keep his operation going in Ruthenia.

There were several weeks of short supply, coming almost to a very dangerous head as the new year dawned. At one point, Reynolds even offered to take his army back to Java to engage the Tyroleans but it was the Emperor who told him to remain put lest all of Ruthenia regress back to their more primitive state.

With Worchester unlikely to be liberated any time soon, Reynolds had to find his own means of supply until the situation could be fixed. That meant two very different methods of getting supplies. The first was a slow convey from Belfort that made its way to Merv once every two weeks. Since most of the Javan war output was now centered around a campaign against the traitor Jack Easterbrook, this meant that Reynolds didn't have first choice in what he received. Mostly, he received whatever was left over, and therefore, this convoy wasn't much use to him.

The second method, which was far more reliable, was procuring what they could from the Ruthenian countryside. A quarter of his army had been turned over for that duty, roaming the country to find food, supplies, and arms to keep their occupation in good order. Now, there wasn't a man in the army who didn't eat Ruthenian bread and vegetable stew every day (the main staples of the country). Most of them had Ruthenian boots or jackets. There was even a growing percentage of the army that fought with Ruthenian rifles (which weren't quite as good as the NT-12).

It was making the best of a bad situation but Reynolds was confident his men could continue to support themselves in lieu of all their challenges. After all, he'd managed to convince Bancroft of his control of the country.

Which is why he was most confused when he arrived at his office to see a dispatch waiting for him that was from the Emperor. It had been deposited there by his loyal deputy not long before, and Reynolds wasted no time in opening it to read the message.

ATTN: ADMIRAL NICK REYNOLDS

VICEROY OF RUTHENIA

YOU ARE HEREBY COMMANDED TO APPEAR IN BELFORT AS SOON AS YOU ARE ABLE. LEAVE YOUR COMMAND IN THE HANDS OF YOUR MOST CAPABLE SUBORDINATE. DO NOT BRING ANY OTHER TROOPS BEYOND WHAT YOU FIND NECESSARY TO USE AS A PERSONAL GUARD.

I HAVE BIG PLANS IN STORE FOR YOU.

EMPEROR PERCIVAL I BANCROFT

EMPEROR OF JAVA

Reynolds reread the message twice just to make sure he understood. He would have loved to know what kind of big plans that Bancroft had in store for him, and his mind naturally drifted to what it could mean to be back in Belfort.

For a brief moment, he allowed himself to be hopeful that this summons was in regards to the fleet assembly in Belfort. A large Javan armada was being put together to face off against Easterbrook's forces, and so far, it had no commander.

At first, Reynolds thought that Bancroft might lead it given his naval background but the Emperor gave no such indication that he wanted to be back in direct command of the fleet. Ever since Admiral McKenzie's disposal, Reynolds was one of the more senior admirals left in the Javan Navy.

Was this it then? Was he being brought back to Java to command the fleet that brought down Easterbrook?

Reynolds could only hope that was the case. He'd never liked Easterbrook, and always thought that the man rose too quickly within the ranks given his capabilities. Reynolds never forgave him for that time more than two years ago when Easterbrook stole ships that were directly under his command.

No, if there was anyone that could bring Easterbrook to heel, it was going to be Reynolds. He wanted to pull the trigger that finally ended that traitor's life.

Reynolds wasted no time in coming up with a suitable response to Bancroft's note. He acknowledged the message and told him he would be on the first ship out. With it taking two weeks to get to Belfort, he wanted to get moving right away.

In the meantime, he would choose his successor here as viceroy of the country and leave them the thankless task of rounding up the Ruthenian rebels.