Fourth Vector Ch. 47

Fortunately for her, that was when the ruckus started.

Trevor became aware of some screaming a short distance away from his tent, followed by the sounds of fighting. It wasn't until Gavin appeared at his tent a moment later that he knew something was up.

"Trevor, we got him."

No other words needed to be said. Trevor removed himself from the now sleeping Nina and followed Gavin across the camp to find another tent that was being heavily guarded. Inside, he could hear the groans of another man, and it wasn't until Trevor was inside that he could see why.

Whoever this man was, he'd definitely struggled. He was bleeding profusely from his nose, and judging by the crookedness of it, someone had punched him repeatedly. His jawline was already a dark blue color, no doubt taking several of the blows there as well. The man was also covered in blood on his one side as well, and a closer look revealed a steak knife had been jammed into the man's stomach and left there.

"Who is this man?" asked Trevor as he glared at their captive.

"This is our poisoner," said Gavin. "He works in the kitchens and he's been bought off by Bancroft and his ilk."

"Bancroft?" asked Trevor incredulously. "You're sure of this?"

"He admitted it," replied Gavin. "And we've found some gold with his belongings bearing the likeness of Bancroft on it. He has quite the story to tell."

With those words, Trevor centered his eyes on the man. His looks were unremarkable in appearance. He looked like he could have come from anywhere in Java, so mixed was his phenotype. One might have been tempted to pity someone so tortured but this was the man that killed Trevor's unborn child.

He needed to know the truth.

Trevor moved closer to the man as he tried to scurry away, fearing harm. He was right to do so because Trevor knelt in front of him and put his hands on the steak knife still sticking out of his side.

"Do you know who I am?" asked Trevor in a firm voice.

The man moaned and nodded his head.

"Then tell me what happened. All of it. Tell me at once and I'll make sure you get a swift death tonight."

The man whimpered before finally speaking. "I did it. I poisoned them. I'm the one."

"Why? Why did you do it?"

"Paid to do it. Paid by Bancroft's men. They wanted to get to you. Poison you, kill you. They wanted you dead because they couldn't defeat you on the battlefield and this was the next best thing."

"So what happened? I'm very much alive."

The man shook his head. "I poisoned the wrong food. You didn't eat from the batch that I tainted. It went to others, the same others that fell sick earlier. Please, please let me die."

"In due time," said Trevor quickly. "Keep talking."

The man sniffled. "The poison wasn't meant to be spread out by so many people. Deadly to 2-3 people, but not deadly to ten. Too little concentration. That's why those that are sick now will recover. All except... all except..."

"Except Nina," growled Trevor. "Do you have any idea what you did to her?"

The man nodded. "The Javans will like this result, I have no doubt of that. They seek any way possible to weaken you. They will enjoy that your child is dead."

Trevor snapped at those words. He yanked the knife and twisted it, causing the man to scream at the top of his lungs.

"You killed my child you motherfucking piece of garbage!" roared Trevor. "Killed my child and almost killed my woman! I ought to use this knife to cut you to a million, fucking pieces!"

"Yes, please, kill me. I'm wicked and I've suffered enough," whimpered the man.

"Keep talking," growled Trevor. "Tell me everything you know."

"I don't know anything else," he protested. "I've told you everything!"

"What kind of poison is it? How do we cure it?"

The poisoner repeated some compound that Trevor had never heard of.

"There's nothing that can be used to treat it," he replied, spitting out blood in the process. "It has to work its way through the body in this low concentration. All you can do is provide rest to those suffering."

"Rest to the suffering," repeated Trevor while shaking his head. "Suffering because of your hand! I ought to have you crucified for this."

The man continued to tremble. "I'll die before you even get me onto a cross."

Trevor jerked the knife again. "Oh, I wouldn't count on it. I can prolong what's left of your miserable life as long as necessary."

It was at this point that Gavin stepped in with a new question. "Where are you from, boy? What part of Java?"

"On the border," replied the man. "I grew up right on the border of Java and Tyrol, not far from here. I have relatives on both sides."

"So lightly would you sell out your own countrymen?" asked Trevor. "You're half Tyrolean yet you would strike like this against your own people."

"The gold," he muttered as his head dipped. "I did it for the gold. I was going to be a rich man for this. I was going to have everything. All I needed was to kill one person and I would never want for anything again."

"And instead, you will be destroyed by it," growled Trevor.

With those words, Trevor applied a good portion of his strength to jerk the knife across the man's stomach. The poisoner screamed in agony as his stomach spilled open, soon letting his guts fall to the floor. He struggled and yelled for nearly ten seconds before the loss in blood drained the life from him.

Ten more seconds later, he was dead.

There was a silence throughout the room, only noticeable as the man finally stopped screaming. At that moment, Trevor looked over at Gavin.

"Make sure all people who prepare food for all forces can be trusted from now on," said Trevor quietly. "Make sure none of them have any Javan gold in their possession. I don't want anything like this ever happening again."

"I'll see to it at once," said Gavin before jerking his head in the man's direction. "What do you want done with him?"

Trevor's glare hardened as his eyes settled on the poisoner. "Toss him in the river."

Gavin nodded and then gestured to two of the security guys to take care of it. With the situation stabilized here, Trevor excused himself to go back to Nina.

"Do you need anything in the interim, Trevor?" asked Gavin. "Anything we can do to help?"

"Just see to the men," replied Trevor after a moment of thought. "Let the army celebrate their victory today. They deserve it after a hard-won fight."

Gavin swallowed heavily. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'm not sure. I'm really not sure."

With those words, the two men separated as Trevor made his way back over to the tent he shared with Nina. She stirred when he arrived, her eyes opening to look at him as he climbed into the cot right beside her. At least the medic had managed to grab a new one, taking the bloodstained one away.

As soon as he settled down beside her, Nina grabbed his hand and pulled it against her chest. "Will you forgive me, Trevor?"

As much as he wanted to let out his emotions, he held onto them tightly. "I have nothing to forgive, love. Nothing at all. I'm just incredibly thankful you're still alive."

Nina turned to face him. "I heard we won today. They're saying we had a great victory."

He nodded. "By our reckoning, we destroyed at least a quarter of the Javan Army today. They are now retreating back toward Belfort."

Nina let out a sad smile. "I'm so proud of you. I love you."

He didn't respond to that directly. Instead, Trevor pulled her closer, letting Nina rest her head against his chest.

His heart nearly broke at what she asked next.

"Do you think it would have been a boy or a girl?" she asked as her voice cracked.

"God help me, I don't know," said Trevor honestly. "I'm not sure I want to know either."

Nina became further choked up. "I hoped it was a boy. A strong boy that looked just like his father. Nothing could have been better."

Words were too much in that moment. For the next fifteen minutes, they both broke down and cried.

*****

"Are you sure about this one? Something about this warehouse seems off to me."

Michael looked into the eyes of Victor and nodded his head. "No different than the other half dozen warehouses that we've hit already. What would be any different than this one?"

Victor pursed his lips and looked at the plan again. In front of them was a crude map of yet another warehouse being used as a munitions depot for the Javan Army. In these days, two new ones sprung up for every one that Michael's forces destroyed, so intense was the need to supply the enlarged army that was at war with everyone.

However, Michael wasn't oblivious to Victor's anxiety about this one. It just seemed a little too easy.

That was summed up nicely by H, the third member of the group that was studying the map.

"The garrison is lighter than usual around such a fat target," said H calmly. "What are we missing? I highly doubt that was left that way by accident."

"My feelings on the matter are that some of the troops may have been stripped away to reinforce the Tyrolean front," said Michael. "We all know how badly things are going over there."

That was certainly the truth. It was only a week ago that Belfort received news of the disaster that befell General Ryan's army at the Battle of the Narbo River. Even now, his army was falling back closer to Belfort, having surrendered nearly a hundred miles of Javan land to Tyrolean forces.

Of course, one would have never known the true extent of the danger if listening to government or media sources. According to them, the Battle of the Narbo River was a Javan victory against a superior Tyrolean force, however, despite his victory, General Ryan chose to move closer to Belfort to "seek better ground for fighting" and to "shorten his supply lines."

Anyone with half a brain knew that to be bullshit. It was only once the mountain of dead made its way back to Belfort that the people figured out the truth.

In true Bancroft fashion, he tried to do damage control by telling the people nothing was truly wrong and by deflecting their attention toward his new measures against the rebels led by the renegade Michael Bainbridge (in Bancroft's own words).

So far, those measures hadn't made much of a difference, but all of them were more cautious just because they knew the depths of Bancroft's resolve.

"I know you both are apprehensive about this target," said Michael. "But I've had it under observation for a week now. If it were a trap and more men were inside, we'd see signs of them being supplied. Nothing has moved in or out of that warehouse except for crates of munitions. It's guarded by a paltry force that has been weakened to resupply men to the Tyrolean front. It's just the kind of target that we like."

Michael looked at Victor first and then to H, watching as they absorbed that information. He figured he might have a bigger fight on his hands, or that either of the two might veto the operation, but to his surprise, H started to nod a moment later.

"You've never led us wrong before, Michael," said H with a fatherly grin. "Once again, we'll put our faith in your hands."

That seemed to settle any resistance, and once the plan was settled and disseminated to the rest of the rebels, they started to get themselves armed and ready to carry out the mission.

There was one person that grabbed a rifle that greatly surprised Michael.

"H? What are you doing?" asked the young heir as he watched the older man examine the barrel.

H slung the rifle over his shoulder. "You plan a tight operation, Michael. I'd like to take part in one before I'm too old to do so. It's been a while since I've shot up Bancroft's people, and I'd like the chance to do it again."

"It could be dangerous out there," warned Michael. "You might be killed."

"Such is the fate of all of us. Death is around every corner, right? The best thing we can do is face it like men and push it off for another day."

Michael found his lips parting into a small smile. With those words, H patted his shoulder and continued to get ready.

H wasn't the only one confident in the mission. So too was a certain pixie brunette and she soon anchored into Michael's side.

"What do you think?" asked Sarah as mischief danced in her eyes. "How many of Bancroft's men do you think I can bag today?"

Michael found himself chuckling in response. "Maybe two?"

Sarah scoffed and hit his stomach playfully. "Only two? You only value my skills that little?"

Michael chuckled harder. "Okay, I guess. How about three?"

Sarah giggled and hit him harder. "You're a bastard!"

Sarah's friendliness had reached a new level in recent days. Michael was always cognizant of H's advice to allow others in, and he was trying not to be such a standout from the rest of the group. Even though he still mourned for Jade in his own private ways, H was right about one thing.

He couldn't shut out the world forever. The world of the living still went on, and Michael couldn't be stuck wishing for those that were dead.

For that reason, Michael allowed Sarah to continue to get closer to him. At times, he had to temper her desire to be near him, or else the woman would spend most of her waking hours in close proximity. Even still, she made for good company, and he found himself enjoying the hours that she spent with him, chattering away about anything and everything.

In a way, it was a form of healing for him. It allowed him to be close to someone for the first time since Jade. As much as hated to admit it to himself, there was something extremely feminine and cute about Sarah. Perhaps it was the way her dimples appeared whenever she smiled. Perhaps it was the way that despite her distinctly unfeminine attire, she still managed to show off her curves in whatever military fatigues she happened to be wearing.

Michael tried not to notice the way her shirt would fall away from her chest, exposing her cleavage. He especially tried not to notice the way her nipples would harden thanks to the cooler air down in the sewers.

He especially tried not to notice the way that Sarah would notice his looking, amplifying her behavior as a result.

Alas, Sarah was still a mystery to him. She was a breath of fresh air that he needed, but regarding her intent, he had to wonder what she saw in him.

Sarah's expression turned serious as she moved to hug him. "Take care of yourself up there, okay? Don't do anything stupid, Michael."

"Of course not," he answered quickly. "I'll stay covered and won't let myself get killed."

Sarah's expression turned to horror as soon as he mentioned the possibility of getting killed. "Don't you dare. Who else would I talk to? Who else would listen to me ramble for hours?"

Michael's face turned innocent. "Perhaps Victor?"

Once more, she struck him playfully.

"I'll be just fine," said Michael before the next words caught in his throat. "And you take care of yourself up there too. Don't do anything stupid either, you hear? I don't want anything to happen to you."

Those last words squeaked out unintentionally. Sarah seemed to notice right away. She moved closer to him as her serious gaze settled on his lips momentarily.

"Why, Michael?" she whispered. "Why don't you want anything to happen to me?"

The moment became turbocharged with tension. She was close enough that her breasts were now lightly pressing into Michael's chest. He could even smell her, and what a lovely fragrance it was.

However, the words of truth died on his tongue.

"Because," he answered a moment later. "I don't want anything to happen to a member of this group. Our numbers are few enough already."

Disappointment showed in Sarah's eyes for a brief minute. Her eyes flickered to his lips before meeting his gaze again. The disappointment didn't last for long, replaced by an impish smile soon enough.

"We can't have that, right?" she asked, increasing the space between them. "And for your sake, I hope that nothing happens to you either."

There was something heavy in the air between them, with many words left unsaid. Though he had no heart to admit it out loud, he desperately wanted Sarah to make it through this operation safe. He was quite fond of her, in ways that went above a mere friendship.

But even now, the memory of Jade still soured the chance to speak it out aloud.

"Come on, let's get moving," said Michael finally, escaping the situation.

The group moved through the sewers, using the subterranean walkways to bring them as close to their target as possible. Today's mission would see twenty of them making the attack, H and Victor included. It wasn't always the same attackers in every mission, minus a handful of mainstays, but it usually revolved around whoever was available at the time to make the attack.

Today's heavier-than-usual force was a nod to the fact that the warehouse seemed to be too easy. Expecting the worst, it couldn't help to have a few extra guns.

Finding the closest manhole, the group slipped into the chilly evening air. Even for early summer, the nights in this part of the world could be exceptionally cold, and Michael and the rest of them were bundled up to preserve warmth.

As the group slipped into position around the warehouse in question, Victor once again broached the same subject as before.

"Where are all the guards?" he whispered to Michael and H as they surveyed the building. "A rich, fat target like this should have three times as many guards than this."

Victor brought up an excellent point. Despite the warehouse having a square footage of around fifteen thousand square feet, there were only about ten guards around the perimeter. The property was fenced off with barbed wire, making the front portion that faced the street where six of them were gathered, split into two different guard shacks of three apiece. The other four walked the grounds, never leaving the eyesight of the man walking behind them.

On the surface, it looked to be well-guarded, but to experienced operators like Michael, it was exceptionally vulnerable.

"We'll split the force," said Michael. "Send four people down each side, with guns trained two per guard. At the moment we strike, they take out those four guards and cut the fence to get inside while the remaining twelve of us keep the pressure on the two front shacks. When our eight people on the flanks get through the fence, they'll come around and fire on the shacks from behind, taking out whomever we haven't killed yet. Once the guards are down, we plant the explosives and run."

"Sounds good to me," said H with a twinkle in his eyes. "I'll take the left side. I've always wanted to be part of the flanking force."

"I'll stay as part of the frontal covering fire," said Victor. "Let's hope this operation goes as easily as we've planned."

As it turned out, the operation turned to shit almost from the moment the firing began. It didn't take long for the two flanking forces to get into position, with every two members focusing on one guard to take down when the shooting began. Michael and Victor stayed perched in their spots out front, each of them taking a shack to focus on.

At the given time, the signal was given and a mass of gunfire erupted into the night.

That was about the time that Michael noticed a huge problem.

As he opened covering fire into the guard shack, he expected to only find three guards there.

But soon, he was being fired upon at his position by as many as ten different rifles, and that was just emerging from that one shack.

"What the fuck!" yelled Michael as he ducked for cover. His initial outburst had taken out two men, but there were still at least eight firing back at him.

Even the sounds of gunfire told him something was wrong. Taking out ten men shouldn't have taken this long, but judging by the amount of firing, there was at least a platoon firing back.