Fourth Vector Ch. 45

Luke didn't finish his sentence. He chose that moment to fiddle with his fingers before taking another long gulp of his drink.

"Especially what?" asked Jack. "Especially with what?"

"Especially if I hope to ever return there someday," finished Luke in a quiet voice. "How do I look my people in their eyes and know that I shed their blood willingly? How can I expect them to call me neighbor after I went to war against them?"

"You've been giving this a lot of thought," noted Jack. "Are you certain then that you'll want to return to Java someday?"

"Kim and I have talked about it," said Luke. "Don't get me wrong, Jack. Galicia is great. Living in Kalmar since we got married has been one of the best times of my life. It's been like a long, extended honeymoon. But at the end of the day, Galicia isn't home for me. Java is home. And while I'd love nothing more than seeing Bancroft get his comeuppance for what he's done, I still have hope that Java can be that home that I once left after he's gone. Does that make sense?"

"Perfectly," replied Jack. "And you're not alone in that sentiment."

"I'm not?"

Jack shook his head. "No, there are still plenty of Javans in our force. Plenty of those amongst your own crew on theValiant, as well as the crews on theDestiny,Stardust,Centurion, and other ships. Even amongst the marines, of which there are still slightly more than a thousand left. Many of them have expressed a hope that after this is over, they can return to Java but I will say it predicates on one thing though."

"What's that?"

"That we're victorious," answered Jack. "Can't go home to a country that's still ruled by Bancroft."

Luke scoffed. "We'll be victorious. I have no doubt about that. There hasn't been a fight yet that we haven't won. We humbled the Swabians like it was nothing."

Jack closed his mouth instead of replying to that. The truth was that the Swabians were nothing compared to the resources that Bancroft had at his disposal. That alone would make him a considerably tougher opponent than Avila was, however, stating that out loud wasn't about to help his cause.

The moment of silence allowed Luke some time for introspection. "Maybe I'm looking at this too closely. Maybe I'm making more of it than it is."

"No, you have a right to feel the way that you do," said Jack. "I feel that way half the time as well. I may not be ethnically Javan, but I was still raised Javan. I don't envy the thought of fighting them. I even look at the other officers we might go against. Do you remember Admiral McKenzie?"

Luke nodded. "One of the only competent admirals that Bancroft has left."

"I don't envy the thought of being opposed by McKenzie if he should lead Bancroft's task force," said Jack. "We know most of the officers on that side. I have no desire to fight them. But this war was started because of Bancroft and his lust for ultimate power. There will be times when our fighting is done against old friends and it will be distasteful. Unfortunately, we must fight on. We must keep going until Bancroft is eliminated."

It was at this point that Luke openly stared at Jack without responding. It was enough for Jack to take notice.

"That is the plan then?" asked Luke. "You'll kill Bancroft when we win?"

Jack nodded. "I can't let him continue to live after what he's done. He murdered Jocelyn and her family. He's tried to kill me. He killed the crew of theStingray. There's too much blood on his hands, and I'm sure there will be much more on them before this conflict is over. He'll have to die."

"I agree with you," said Luke. "He can't remain alive after what he's done. Let's hope that day isn't too far off."

Luke took another drink before getting quiet for a moment.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay with all of this?" asked Jack. "I don't doubt you for a second. You're one of the best officers I know. I just want to make sure you're in a good space mentally. I don't want you sleeping on a conflicted conscience."

Luke started to chuckle. "I'll be just fine. Believe it or not, it helps me to talk it out like we just did. I think sometimes I need a reminder about what's at stake. I need to remember why we're fighting them. It's not that we're at war with Java exactly. We're at war with Bancroft. As long as he holds Java hostage, he's going to be our number one enemy."

"That's a great way to look at it," said Jack, impressed by the comparison. "I might steal that comparison when I talk to anyone else that might be troubled."

Luke gave him a wry grin. "Just make sure they know who came up with it."

Jack laughed and poured out a little more alcohol. He raised his glass to Luke. "To the ending of Bancroft and the release of his Javan hostage."

Luke nodded his head and clinked his glass. "Now that's something I can definitely drink to."

*****

Michael Bainbridge thought he was on top of the world.

At least, that's how it felt as he made his way back to the sewers with his small band of comrades that evening, all of them flushed with success and running on adrenaline.

Their mission had been a total success, as evident by their excitable noises as soon as they were safely underground.

"Did you see how that building went up? I've never seen an explosion like that!"

"I think all of Belfort heard that one! There's no way Bancroft will be able to blame that one on a faulty gas leak."

"Let him try! The palace will be our next visit if that's the case!"

"Let's give it up for Michael. It wouldn't have gone so well without his planning!"

For that brief moment, every single person in his ten-man band stopped what they were doing to embrace him or pat his back. After all, their feelings were largely justified. It had been Michael who planned the events of the evening, selecting a small munitions factory on the outskirts of town to attack. His planning for the attack took several days, and that was mostly for them to receive the materials of the bombs to be planted inside the factory. At this time of night, it was empty save for several security guards planted by Bancroft, all of whom were quickly dispatched. Once the bombs were set, the freedom fighters beat a hasty exit, watching from the shadows as the factory went up in smoke.

It was Michael's fifth operation now, and it was the second that he'd planned exclusively on his own, which seemed to be a big deal to the rest of the rebels. Usually, it was H or Victor that planned their raids, and so the fact that Michael was now able to do that showed that he'd gained some ground in their hierarchy.

He was also earning the respect of the other rebels, the foot soldiers who carried out H's designs. Most of them were known only by their first name, and to all but a few of them, he was simply Michael. While H and Victor knew who he really was, his real identity was kept a secret from those that didn't need to know.

However, there were whispers that Michael couldn't ignore. Some of them were starting to figure out that he wasn't just like them. That he'd had a different upbringing from the hard lives they'd lived thus far. While it wasn't exactly a point of suspicion, it only served to add to the growing aura that now surrounded him.

As his small band made its way through the sewers (much of which Michael knew by heart now), they came upon the small hideout that served as headquarters for their growing movement. Soon enough, Michael figured they'd have to find a bigger space. There were three more volunteers that showed up in the last twenty-four hours, and every successful raid brought more men and women to the ranks.

By the time they were all inside, the real celebration began. Someone opened two bottles of alcohol and began to pass it around, and everyone took sips before handing it to the next person in line.

"What an evening!" said one of the rebels, Cooper, as he raised the bottle high. "And what a group of people! I have to give thanks to Michael for coordinating the events of tonight. This was the largest target we've hit yet!"

"To Michael!" cried out the rest of the group.

Michael took the praise in stride. He bowed his head and took a swig when the bottle was presented to him. "To the downfall of Bancroft and the returning of the Javan state to the people!"

The rest of the group cheered louder upon hearing that particular statement. It was the best thing that could have been said at the time, further cementing his role as a future leader of their movement. While anyone else might have let the praise go to their head or even potentially showed humility in the face of such acclamation, Michael redirected the argument toward their purpose--a surefire sign of his growing leadership.

And it didn't go unnoticed, especially once H came out of his room to inspect the revelry.

H saw the beaming smiles on their faces and the free-flowing alcohol. "My warriors, I take it you met with resounding success tonight?"

"We did," replied Yulia, another one of their band. "Michael's plan worked flawlessly. Bancroft won't be able to use that munitions factory for quite some time."

H gave all of them a fatherly smile. "That is excellent news indeed. That particular factory made ammunition for the NT-12 rifle. Those extra rounds will surely be missed by Bancroft in his conflict against the Tyroleans and the Fourthies."

The group of rebels let up another cheer before they started to disperse. Several of them fell into small groups for chatting while another handful moved into the other room, leaving H closest to Michael.

The older man put his hand on Michael's shoulder. "You did well today, Michael. We are all very proud of you."

"I wouldn't have been able to do it without the help of my comrades," said Michael quietly. "And I hope to start planning my next target tonight."

H let out a small chuckle. "Do you not want to celebrate tonight? You do not need to jump into the next operation right away."

Michael shook his head. "The faster that I move, the more I can keep Bancroft off kilter. The sooner we can depose him, the sooner I can avenge Jade's memory."

H's features turned sympathetic for a moment. "Michael, I admire your personal fire but you're only human. It's okay to celebrate these moments and it doesn't make you any less dedicated to your purpose. Your woman would understand."

"She might but I wouldn't," corrected Michael. "I'm going to start my planning now. I have a few more targets in mind."

Michael didn't leave H with the chance to respond. He moved away from the main room into the last room, where he saw one resistance member who hadn't come out to greet the raiders.

Victor was sitting in the corner on a wooden chair. He was reading something, and he didn't immediately raise his head in acknowledgment of Michael until the other man was right next to him.

"You're back sooner than expected," said Victor without turning his head.

"That's because the operation went more smoothly than anyone could have planned for," said Michael calmly.

Victor smirked. "I think you meant to say that you planned it so well that there was no need for any margin of error?"

Michael shook his head. "You're starting to sound like all the others now."

Victor reached over and playfully slapped Michael's slide. "Lighten up, will you? You're one of the only people here with serious cause for celebration at the successful carrying out of your own plan and you're acting like someone just shot your dog. Why can't you enjoy the fruits of success, Michael?"

"Because my success is only made possible because of my failure," he answered quietly. "My failure to save Jade is what made all of this happen. It's hard for me to celebrate something going right when everything else has gone wrong."

Victor let out a heavy sigh. "You need to stop blaming yourself for her death. You've avenged her memory now more times than I can count. How many of Bancroft's men have you killed now? Twenty? More? You're vindicating her memory more than you know."

Then why won't the pain go away, thought Michael.How many others have to die before that happens?

That was the single question that was on his mind the most. No matter how much blood he shed, none of it seemed to make Jade's death any more bearable. He thought he could repay her death in kind but it just seemed like every new death only dug his hole deeper. And now the sides seemed too steep to even climb out.

Bancroft's death will solve this. Only Bancroft needs to die. Then I can truly rest.

Michael felt Victor's hand on his shoulder. "Don't make the same mistake I did. One death is not justified by the deaths of others."

Michael pulled away from Victor's grasp. "That's not what you told me six months ago. You told me the reason you do this is to avenge your mother and your sister. What other reason do we have for continuing to resist if not to avenge our loved ones?"

Victor closed his eyes and looked at the floor. "I thought I could. I thought I could get my revenge that way. I thought all I had to do was to tip the scales in blood, and I would stop hurting. That's a young man's idea of revenge, that everything can be truly eye for an eye. But once you go down that road, and you start killing, you learn that it's never truly eye for an eye. None of their deaths will ever equal those that were close to us. And that's when you learn the truth."

"What truth?" asked Michael.

Victor locked eyes with him. "That there's no way to bring them back. And that the more you kill, the more you turn into the very things that stole our loved ones."

Michael shook his head angrily. "I'm not like Bancroft. I'm not a monster who rapes and kills women."

"No, you're not a monster," said Victor. "But that's because I know you. What do you think the families of all those dead Javan soldiers think of you right now, hmm? I bet they think you're a monster. I bet they wish they could get their vengeance on you."

"It's completely different. It's not the same..."

Michael stopped talking at that moment, letting his speech trail off. In fact, he knew it was the same, and what Victor was saying was making sense.

He just didn't want to admit it yet.

"Why are you telling me this now?" asked Michael a moment later. "You're the one that said I should be celebrating, aren't you? Why are you trying to push me deeper into despair?"

"That's not what I'm trying to do," said Victor. "I just want you to think about your actions with a little more introspection than I did. I surrounded myself with an orgy of violence and chaos for the past year and I'm no better for it. You and I are cut from the same cloth, Michael. You may have been brought up differently with a silver spoon in your mouth, but we have the same hearts and the same ideals. I see a lot of myself in you. Don't throw away your soul seeking something you can never find."

"I can't ever forget her," said Michael. "I won't forget Jade. Nor will I forgive him."

Victor put his hands on Michael's shoulders. "Nor should you. Don't forget. Don't forgive. But move on. Stop making her injustice the centerpiece of your life. She's been gone long enough, Michael. Don't let it kill off the last thing that makes you who you are."

With those words, Victor soon moved out of the room, leaving Michael temporarily bewildered. He wasn't gone long, and when he reappeared, he had one of the bottles of alcohol with him. He first took a long swig and then passed it to Michael.

"Go on, drink," urged Victor. "In celebration of your success."

"Why?" asked Michael hoarsely.

Victor blinked at him. "Like I said, it's due to your success--"

"No, not that," interrupted Michael. "Why do you continue to fight then? If you tell me not to drown myself in blood like you have, then why are you still here, Victor? You make it sound like you learned your lesson so why not leave the resistance?"

A small smile appeared on Victor's lips. "It's not like I can just go get a job at one of Bancroft's factories now. Not when I've blown enough of them up. My name is proscribed. I have nothing left."

"I'm not telling you to try to return to the life you lived before," said Michael. "But there are other options for you. You could go abroad. Even to Thessaly. From the sounds of things, Bancroft barely has control out there anymore. Ruthenia is wild as well, despite the occupation. Why stay here if you've learned your lesson about revenge?"

Victor took a deep sigh and moved a few steps away. He seemed to study the wall in front of him, watching as a bead of water slid down the entire length and splattered against the ground.

"What else am I, Michael?" asked the older man quietly. "What else would I do? Become a farmer? I have no patience for that kind of life. A trader? I'd rather tie myself to one of the bombs going off in the factories. I'm not skilled at anything else. The only life that I know is being a rebel. A rebel that has been tainted by the search for vengeance. You might wonder why I tell you the things that I do. It's to prevent you from becoming me. You're young, Michael. You could still have a future if you wanted it. That door is closed to me. I won't let you go down my path, not without warning you first."

"It's not just your path," said Michael. "It's mine as well. I appreciate what you're trying to do but I need to do this at my own pace. I need to make these mistakes in order to find out what exactly I'm made of."

Victor shook his head. "There's no coming back from this life, Michael. You may think that you can still turn around once you're wise enough to find the knowledge but there's a price you'll pay for knowing. That price is more than any of us are able to pay. Heed my words, Michael. Let go of the vengeance."

"Perhaps we're more alike than you think," said Michael quietly. "And perhaps there's truly no hope for me."

Victor smirked. "If I believed that, I wouldn't have wasted my breath telling you. Look at all that you've accomplished just in the last few weeks alone. H has his eye on you now more than ever. The rest of the rebels look up to you. If you want to be a leader in this organization, you're well on your way."

"According to you, it sounds like I shouldn't aim for that. It sounds like that's the opposite of what I need."

Victor shook his head again. "Not everyone is here because they lost someone important to them. Most of them out in the main room? They're here because this is the right place to be. Because Bancroft shouldn't be anywhere near the reins of this country, and opposing him is the highest moral obligation that we have. Your reasons are more personal than that, and that makes you the most dangerous. You can stay with our cause, Michael, but do it for the right reasons. Do it because it's the right thing to do, not because you think killing will heal the pain inside you."

With those words, Victor quickly turned heel and left the room, going for the room that H usually occupied It was probably for the best anyway, as it truly left Michael alone with his thoughts.

What he hated the most was how much sense Victor made. When he first met the man more than six months ago, Victor's rage was nearly the equal of his. Michael had noticed that Victor's fire had quelled with time but tonight was the first time he uncovered why.

Victor finally found out how pointless the idea of vengeance truly was. And he wanted to save Michael from suffering the same fate.

"Michael?"

Michael was temporarily interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of the soft voice behind him. He spun on his heel until he saw one of the rebels near the door, more alcohol in her hand.

"Do you want to have a few drinks with me?" asked the girl, her big eyes blinking in excitement. Michael tried to remember her name. Sandra, perhaps?