Fourth Vector Ch. 46

"Sacrificed?" asked Aedan. "What do you mean by that? What happened the other day?"

"We had a team-building event that was focused around capturing the enemy's flag," explained Arnold. "Brian and I were almost there but there were a few defenders between us and the flag. He led them off in one direction so I could capture it, losing his armband in the process. Any man that's willing to do that for me has my respect and my trust."

"Thank you both," said Jack as he reached over and shook the hands of both soldiers. With a look at Ambros first, he finally turned to face Aedan and Reina.

"We have a whole brigade who are just like these two men," explained Jack. "They've fought together, bled together, ate together, and in the past week, they've learned that the differences between them are shallow and easily conquered. I have officers on both sides who are willing to come forward with many more examples of men like Brian and Arnold, those that have learned to trust men that they once considered their enemy. In fact, many of these men probably squared off together last year in the Battles of Castus or Dagobern. Today? They're comrades united by respect and trust and they're ready to do battle against a greater enemy. What do you have to say to that? What more needs to be said?"

It was the question everyone had been waiting for. Jack's eyes flickered back and forth between Aedan and Reina as he awaited a response. For Aedan's part, the Picard King looked visibly moved. His surefire confidence from the start of the meeting had nearly evaporated, and if his last words had been any indication, there was a growing lump in his throat.

On the other hand, Reina looked almost embarrassed. Her cheeks were rosy and she had trouble meeting the eyes of everyone else.

That's why it was surprising that she was the first to respond.

"Was it truly my men that hazed them?" she asked quietly. "My Carinthians did that?"

Jack nodded. "Unfortunately, that was the case. However, I'm not willing to make this an issue whatsoever, Reina. In fact, I'm willing to forget about it right here and right now."

She gave him a confused look. "Why is that, Jack?"

Jack smirked. "Because my Galicians were in the same boat a week ago. Look what kind of progress can be made together. Next week, your Carinthians could be getting along famously with their new Swabian counterparts. You heard what Brian had to say. His preconceptions were just as misplaced as your men. I know we can overcome this together. If we keep mixing the units and letting them see that the Swabians are men just like them--that they have their own fears, aspirations, dreams, and talents--then this army will become truly unstoppable. Then we'll have everything we need to not only hold Bancroft at bay but defeat him."

Reina nodded as her hand crept up to her face to wipe away an errant tear. "In that case, I will leave the decision to Aedan. This is his fight, and I find myself without much of a leg to stand on." Reina turned to face him. "It's in your hands now, Aedan."

With those words, all eyes locked on the Picard King. Ever the actor, Aedan pushed up to his feet and put his fist against the table dramatically.

"Jack, I think you've more than proved your point today. I didn't want to believe you. I wanted to believe that the Swabians were sabotaging our efforts. I wanted to believe they couldn't be integrated into our army. But during this entire week, you've chipped away at my defenses one by one. This was the final nail in the coffin. You've shown me that two former enemies can fight side by side and make common cause, something that's not easy to do. I don't think it's as simple as you've made it out to be, but I think it has more to do with your strength as our leader, as our overlord. You've shown me that you can fix the unfixable, and for that reason, I withdraw my resistance."

With those words, Aedan rushed across the table and embraced Jack fiercely. "You have my support and my commitment, now and in the future."

Jack chuckled and patted the Picard King on the back. "Let's try to stay united on our thoughts from now on, okay? Too many times recently we've come to blows on the opposite ends of an issue. Let's stay on the same team moving forward, okay?"

Now it was Aedan's turn to be embarrassed. "Jack, you have my word that moving forward, I will trust your leadership more than I have in the past. I know that I can be stubborn at times but those men out there aren't the only ones that learned to trust today. I did too."

With those words, the two men enthusiastically patted the other's back.

"We can put this issue to bed then?" asked Jack. "And sail from Zarah in three days as one united force?"

Aedan nodded. "And woe to Bancroft when we do. He's going to need all the help he can get."

"That's something I'll drink to," added Ambros from their side. "And such a fate to anyone who would think to threaten the West."

"I'd hate to interrupt all this male bonding and camaraderie," said Reina as she stood to her feet and planted her hands on her hips. "But there's something significant here that still hasn't been addressed."

Jack gave her a confused look. "What's that, Reina?"

She struggled to contain a grin. "That Swabian fellow... is he married?"

Ambros started to laugh. "I'm fairly certain I heard him mention a girl back home."

Reina let out a disappointed sigh. "Well, that's quite unfortunate. I'm always on the lookout for my next husband."

Jack let out a soft chuckle. "Don't ever change, Reina."

"Oh, I don't intend to, Jack. I really don't intend to."

*****

Hundreds of miles away, a different sort of deliberation was taking place.

Commodore Stanhope Lucas of Quiller's Cove tapped his fingers against his desk as his eyes remained glued to a certain dispatch in front of him. It was late that evening, and even Andre had already gone home, leaving Lucas nearly alone in his headquarters.

It was just as well that he was alone, for if anyone of consequence found this dispatch on his desk, he could very well be charged with treason.

The reasoning was simple and it all started with the author of the dispatch, a man so thoroughly discredited now that even a brief communication could be grounds for a deadly fate. The former admiral, Walter McKenzie, was currently under house arrest, or so Lucas had been told, so how he managed to get out of his house to send this dispatch was anyone's guess.

Lucas had to admit that using the postal channel was an incredibly wise move. The postal comm channel was monitored much less heavily than the naval channels, and if there was one way to keep this whole thing a secret from Bancroft, this was the way to do it.

Still, the message within the dispatch was most curious. The fact that it was written nearly in code did little to hide the real meaning from Lucas either.

What was most interesting was McKenzie's role in all of this. His message indicated there was an offer of alliance between the Tyrolean rebels and the forces of Jack Easterbrook but the question that was most burning on Lucas' mind was why was McKenzie involved?

Was it some kind of payback against Bancroft for sacking him from his position?

Was it a sense of loyalty to Jack after their years of friendship?

Perhaps it was both?

Lucas growled to himself and tapped his fingers against the desk more rapidly. This put him in an even worse bind than he was already in. He knew that Quiller's Cove would be a stop for any fleet that crossed the great ocean, whether it be from Java or whether it be Easterbrook's forces.

He also knew that Easterbrook had been trying to reach him lately, offering Lucas a place within his forces if he would just surrender Quiller's Cove upon Jack's arrival.

Lucas scoffed at such a question. He never thought he would see the day when Jack Easterbrook demanded the surrender of Quiller's Cove yet here he was.

The world had seemingly turned upside down, making him loyal to his enemies (Bancroft) and seemingly hostile to his friends (Jack).

How had things come to this unfortunate end?

The main issue that Lucas faced was that he also knew Admiral Nick Reynolds had recently left Belfort for Quiller's Cove, and at some point in time, the two fleets would have to engage each other, the victor laying claim to Quiller's.

And yet he despised Reynolds nearly as much as he did Bancroft.

The options in front of him narrowed. Should he continue to offer blind support to leaders that he didn't respect while preparing to defend Quiller's Cove from an overwhelming force led by his former friend?

Or should he declare for Easterbrook now and lend his resources to his former friend in the hopes that he could topple Bancroft and Reynolds from power?

Neither option was straightforward. Both of them contained considerable risk. It was a fifty-fifty chance whether Lucas might pick the wrong side. Despite him wanting to pick Jack, he also believed that Jack had a smaller chance of success compared to the other option.

But could he really turn his back on a friend?

With a heavy sigh, Lucas moved his hand to rummage for the last dispatch from Easterbrook that had been hiding in his top drawer. Even being in possession of this could see him executed without the chance of mercy and yet, he still hadn't destroyed it.

"What am I going to do about you, Jack?" muttered Lucas under his breath. "Do I help you or do I fight you?"

The decision took minutes to finally crystallize within his head. Lucas cleared his throat and pushed up from his chair, moving to the communications room a few doors down from his office. With shaky hands, he created a brief message to Jack and moved to send, immediately striking it from the log as soon as it was gone.

Lucas puffed out his cheeks as soon as it was done. "I guess there's no going back now."

Indeed, the die was cast. No matter what happened now, he was committed to the path in front of him.

He only hoped it was the right move, for everyone's sake.

*****

"There, you see? Right there behind that thicket. There's a couple of foxholes there about ten yards apart."

Trevor used his binoculars to examine the words of his scout. Sure enough, he could see helmets sticking up from the ground, nearly three or four of them per hole. Judging by the way they were oriented, the men's eyes weren't glued to the front of the line, where they knew Trevor's Tyroleans had to be located.

No, they were mostly talking to each other and having a good time, as evident by the way their helmets were moving.

"We've been watching them for the last hour," whispered the scout into Trevor's ear. "They still don't know we're here and they've made no attempts to reconnoiter the position, even after the strike we did yesterday."

Trevor shook his head silently. Overconfident fools, the lot of them. Even though General Ryan was acting more cautiously than ever before, his men had no such reserve to them. Many of them didn't even know how green they truly were, and they thought that just because they had a larger army that they were going to whip the Tyroleans and go back home to Belfort.

They were going to be in for a rude awakening if Trevor had any say of it.

"I don't get why they aren't more attentive," whispered the scout. "I could have my men dance across the front line mere yards from their position and they still wouldn't notice."

"These men are young and untrained for the most part," replied Trevor. "These aren't the same Javans that we found in Tyrol or in the Wilds. The cream of their army has long since been killed. These men never should have seen combat yet here we are."

Despite their lack of training, Trevor wasn't about to take these men lightly. They still outnumbered his force handily, and this army of forty thousand Javans could be more than a match for his thirty thousand Tyroleans if they were a well-trained force led by a capable commander.

As it was, they had neither, and Trevor was determined to prove that he had the better army.

It was why he was so close to their front lines at this very moment. For the last twenty-four hours, small groups of Tyrolean soldiers had nipped at the wings of the Javan Army, using quick raids as their primary tactic and disengaging before the Javans could reinforce their positions. It was exactly the kind of raid that was going to be launched in a few minutes' time on either flank.

Trevor's hope was to avoid a pitched battle where the Javans could bring about their numerical superiority against his smaller force. In doing these raids, he hoped to achieve local superiority using the element of surprise, and in doing so, keep Ryan from developing any confidence that he could beat the Tyrolean force.

If they could keep up these tactics, there was a very real chance they could strike at Ryan's nerves and win the war before the Javans could recover.

And Trevor was going to do everything possible to make that a reality.

"Go on, give the signal," said Trevor to the scout. "If the men are in place, let's begin the raid."

The scout nodded and brought one of the captured Javan radios to his lips. "Prepare to execute on my orders. Three. Two. One. Go."

With those words, the hidden Tyrolean force opened up fire on the hapless Javan foxholes a short distance away. The quiet morning air was interrupted by a hail of gunfire from two directions. Trevor watched on in satisfaction as the Javans that were just talking and laughing together moments before were cut to ribbons, their ineffectual fire dying down to nothing after a mere thirty seconds.

With the first line silenced, the scout beside Trevor gave the order for them to advance.

Suddenly, a whole platoon of soldiers emerged from their hiding places and occupied the foxholes of the dead Javans. Further on ahead, the sounds of gunfire had triggered a reaction from those Javans in the second line, and it was their turn to open fire. They at least had the benefit of a small forewarning, and they didn't die nearly as quickly as their comrades had.

But die they did. The Tyrolean platoon continued to advance until they ran into much stiffer resistance in the third and fourth line. It was here, after taking a few casualties, that they began to pull back, their job accomplished.

"Let's go, back to our camp," said Trevor quickly to the scout. "Our job is done."

Just as quickly as they'd emerged, the Tyroleans disappeared into the forests. Any other Javan force from the prior years would have been hot on their heels but not this one. The ill-trained young Javan soldiers didn't offer a pursuit, no doubt shaken by what they'd just experienced.

It was exactly the kind of outcome that Trevor was looking for.

It took them several hours of their quick pace to get back to Tyrolean lines, where the force that had struck the other flank had just returned, with similar results.

"I want to keep up this kind of pressure constantly," said Trevor to Gavin once they were safely back in camp. "I never want these Javans to relax. I want them to fear that an attack could come at any moment from any direction. Keep sending groups out to raid all along the lines and especially the flanks. Let's see if we can make General Ryan lose his nerve."

Gavin could only grin in response. "You got it, Trevor. I'll send a few more groups out now. They should be able to get there by nightfall."

Sure enough, those groups only returned in the middle of the night after striking four different spots of the Javan line. Their reports of the situation were largely similar--the Javans appeared skittish and alert after frequent attacks but they largely melted in the face of their surprise raids.

It was on the fourth day after all these attacks that Trevor got the news he was waiting on.

"Trevor! The Javans are pulling back!"

Nina came rushing to find him and she started tugging on his arm like an excited child. "They're shortening their lines and pulling back towards the interior! Our men are finding abandoned forward positions on both flanks!"

"Do we know how far they've pulled back, Nina? Is it a true withdrawal or are they just doing a strategic repositioning?"

Nina shook her head. "They've pulled back approximately three miles on both sides. Our scouts are now reporting that their left flank is now anchored on the Narbo River which is some distance to the north. The right is hooked on the hills several miles to the south. The whole line has pulled back!"

For the first time since they met the Javan Army, Trevor allowed himself to feel a degree of elation. Every indication he had was that his measure of General Ryan was spot-on.

The man truly seemed to have lost his nerve. He would continue to pull back lest he have to face another battle against Trevor.

How far could Trevor push this?

"Trevor! Are you listening to me?"

Trevor snapped back to reality as his eyes focused on Nina. "Say again?"

She smacked his chest playfully. "What do you want to do about the Javans now?"

Trevor made a fist and smashed it into his open hand. "We keep on pursuing them. I don't want them to get away. I want to keep up the pressure with the same attacks we've been doing. General Ryan is probably thinking if he pulls back far enough, he'll have time to dig into his position and wait for us. I don't ever want to give him that luxury. In fact, I want raiders to go out right now and keep attacking like we've been doing. We can never let him get too comfortable."

"Sooner or later though, he's going to have to offer battle," said Nina quietly. "We can't chase him all the way back to Belfort."

"No, but the closer that we force him back to his capital, the more desperate he'll become," said Trevor. "It'll also mean that Bancroft himself will become more desperate. That pressure on making Ryan stand his ground will become unbearable and that's when he'll make the kind of mistake we need to really win this war."

Nina beamed with a smile. She pushed in lightning fast and kissed him soundly.

Trevor couldn't help but grin when she was done. "What was that for?"

She bit her lip coyly. "There's just something so sexy about you when you talk like that. It's kind of turning me on."

Trevor started to chuckle. "Later tonight, okay? Let's at least wait until the men go to bed."

Nina started to pout. "Spoilsport!"

Trevor kissed her before he moved away from his main camp, hiking to a point about hundred yards away where he could get a good view of the land in front of him due to the higher elevation. From this height, he couldn't make out the Javan positions but he could still see the landmarks below of where their army was anchored. The swift running Narbo River was just to the north where it meandered on an east-west trip toward the Javan west coast.

One thing was for certain. Trevor planned to push the Javan Army along this river until it could retreat no more. It was only then after he'd bled them dry with constant raids that he would force his final battle and win the war that had been so long in the making.

Victory was so very close.

It just needed one more push.

*****

The last three days in Picardy went by quicker than Jack could have imagined. The beautiful thing about all of it was watching the army come together in a way it had never done before. After having proved his experiment to Aedan and Reina, there was a sudden desire to have mixed training groups for the rest of the army. All the remaining Swabian soldiers soon found themselves with Picard, Carinthian, Apulian, and even Samaran partners as the army learned to trust their new ally in this latest venture.

That's not to say there weren't some bumps along the way. The infirmaries set a new record after that first day for the number of black eyes and bruised chins that had been reported along the way but the number of incidents dropped dramatically after that.