Fourth Vector Ch. 47

"Check it," said Victor to Michael. "Silence those guards!"

Michael was moving before Victor even finished speaking. On the other side of the warehouse, close to where the route led to the sewers, a small war had broken out. Michael found eight of his people hiding behind a series of spare parts crates, two of them wounded already.

One of those wounded was Sarah, the brunette pixie who kept trying to get to know him. Her wound was a grazing one but she was still bleeding heavily.

Michael noticed the fire was coming from one particular section just behind the main guardhouse. He opened up with covering fire on the guardhouse before crouching down by Sarah.

"What's happening here? Where did all these guards come from?"

"Out of nowhere it seems," replied Sarah as she tore off a piece of her clothing to wrap around her arm. Michael gave her a hand, pulling the knot tight against the wound, making Sarah yelp in the process.

"They just surprised us," said Sarah. "It's like they were waiting for us. I don't know if they knew we were coming but there's at least a squad of men out there!"

Sure enough, Sarah wasn't exaggerating. Michael's people were pinned down, and those two fighters closest to the enemy were taking heavy fire.

"Covering fire, come on," ordered Michael as he opened up arriving soldiers. He managed to get off a full round before taking shots in his direction, causing Michael to change his position.

It was at this point that something devastating happened. The two fighters closest to the enemy, a man and a woman, both took hits simultaneously. Though the hits weren't mortal, what happened to them next was enough to put a chill down anyone's spine.

The Javan guards rushed forward under the protection of covering fire and grabbed the two rebels before they had the chance to escape. Both the man and the woman were pulled back to their lines despite the efforts of the group to take down those taking them.

Once they were back, the real savagery began.

"Oh my god," said Sarah as she began to turn green. "They're butchering them!"

Sure enough, the Javans started to torture the captured rebels, using their knifes to stab them in non-mortal locations like the outer extremities. They were forced to hide under crates after some more renewed fire from Michael's people but that didn't stop the Javans from yelling out once a lull in the fire happened.

"Thanks for the tasty treat tonight, you rebel fucks!" yelled one of the Javans.

The woman's scream that came immediately after told Michael exactly what her intended fate would be.

His blood boiled at the thought of yet another woman suffering the same fate as Jade.

"Give me covering fire," growled Michael to Sarah and the other rebels. "I'm going to get them!"

Before the rest of the group could as much as fire one round, Victor appeared near Michael with the rest of the bomb-makers.

"Time to go, we have a short window before this warehouse blows sky high!"

"No, they have our people!" argued Michael. "I'm going to rescue them!"

Victor looked to where Michael was pointing. No doubt he heard the screams of the woman at that point in time.

To Michael's shock, Victor shook his head.

"No time. Everyone within a block of this warehouse is going to be dead in less than a minute if we don't move, including those guards. We have to get underground now!"

"We can't leave them!" yelled Michael.

"We leave them or we die!" yelled back Victor as he grabbed Michael's arm. He nodded at the rest of the rebels. "Let's go, get to that manhole!"

Still protesting, Michael had to be practically dragged along until they reached the entrance to the sewers. The timing was good enough, as the Javans were making progress on their position, and from the sounds of things, they had now occupied the previous spot that Michael had been in.

Time was running out.

"Let's go, get underground!" yelled Victor to the rest of the rebels. "You too, Michael, go!"

"But what about--"

Victor put his hands up. "Later! Let's go, damnit!"

Each of the rebels quickly shuffled down the manhole. They couldn't move quick enough, as now that attention had been brought to their raid, one of the guard towers was now swinging a spotlight in their direction.

If they were able to get that light on any one of them, they would become instantly vulnerable to sniper fire.

Thankfully, Michael and Victor were the last ones down, with Victor pulling the cover shut over them without a moment to spare.

No sooner had he made the move than the whole damn warehouse exploded, knocking all the rebels to their feet by the blast alone and causing a dreadful rumbling racket throughout the sewers. They all covered their ears in an attempt to stop the ringing in their ears, but at least they were alive. At least they were safe.

All except for those two rebels left behind.

They were now dead, alongside all those Javan guards that had nearly been on top of their position.

What was done was done. There was no sense in discussing it now as it was too late to make any difference but Michael was still upset about those two left behind. It wasn't so much about their deaths. He'd seen plenty of rebels die over the last few months. No operation was ever spotless and one or two casualties per night became the norm.

So what was it about tonight that he found so insufferable that he was about to jeopardize their mission to rescue someone who was practically dead already?

Michael knew the answer to that question if he searched his feelings long enough.

It was the fact that the rebel girl was going to be raped that did it. It was the memory of Jade, who had suffered the same treatment at the hands of Bancroft. Part of him wondered if she screamed in horror too after seeing what was going to happen to her.

In the process, Michael nearly cried out with pain.

Yet another woman he wasn't able to save.

The sting of that acknowledgment lasted until they reached the hideout. Michael wasn't the only one in a somber mood. Though a successful operation was usually celebrated by the majority of rebels (save for the one or two or lost a close friend in the operation), tonight was considerably more muted than other nights.

All of them knew the reason why. The Javan soldiers under Bancroft had become even more savage than ever before. And they were about to rape a wounded woman right in front of her helpless comrades.

For that reason alone, no one felt like drinking that night. The bottles of alcohol stayed full and the rebels mostly dispersed back to their homes.

All except Michael. He couldn't help but sit in his room in the hideout while trying not to let the memories of the woman's scream drive him insane.

It was a good thing that he wasn't totally alone. Victor was there with him, and despite not exchanging any words since the operation, the older man wasn't too far away.

"Put it out of your mind, Michael," said Victor out of the blue. "There's nothing you can do about it now."

When Michael turned to face him, he found Victor giving him a knowing look. "I mean it, Michael. There's nothing that could have been done."

"It doesn't mean that I have to like what happened to them. They died tonight because of us."

Victor shrugged. "One of us dies every operation, Michael. Why do their lives mean so much right now?"

"It's not that. It's just that..."

The words caught in Michael's mouth. He didn't want to say them out loud. He knew Victor was right, that death greeted them on every operation but why then did one woman's get to him so much?

"It's because of the woman, isn't it?" asked Victor quietly.

Michael knew better than to deny it. He didn't speak but he nodded his head quietly.

"I know you too well, my young friend," said Victor. "I know what your triggers are by now."

"My triggers?"

Victor nodded. "The things that set you off. What happened to that woman reminded you of someone you knew, didn't it?"

"Yes," replied Michael grudgingly.

"And you felt powerless to stop it?"

"Yes."

To Michael's surprise, Victor started to chuckle to himself.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, it's not the death that I'm laughing about, I can assure you that," said Victor. "It's the surprising notion that you're not entirely made of steel like you might want others to think."

Michael gave him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean Michael that you try so hard to make the others think that you're a machine--that you don't have emotions, that you are more than just a man. Indeed, many of our rebels seem to think that now after watching your success. They see you as the embodiment of our idea more so than they see you as a man. Sometimes, I think you let that go to your head."

"If that's the case, then I still don't understand the humor in it."

Victor gave him a knowing look. "It's just a nice reminder that you're still human, Michael. You still suffer like the rest of us. This is not me taking enjoyment in your suffering but I think this is something you needed. You're not made of steel, Michael, and you don't have to keep acting like it."

"These people here need me to be strong," countered Michael. "I can't be losing my head with every operation. I have to be strong for them. You say that I'm made of steel but the truth is that leaders often have to be to keep their organizations intact. It's no different here."

"Those people out there need you to be human first," replied Victor. "It's okay to be upset about the deaths of Jeremy and Beth."

Judging by the confusion on Michael's face, Victor added something further a moment later.

"You didn't know their names, did you?"

Michael managed to look embarrassed. "I did not."

"This is what I'm talking about. You're too busy trying to be strong that you don't know many of us here in the group. We're just rebels to you, pawns to help move along our cause. It's a good thing that Beth's death affected you like it did. It means there's something inside you still that feels emotions. Shutting yourself off from everyone and keeping on your current path is only going to lead to more pain."

Michael didn't have a direct response for that. He sighed deeply before turning his attention to the floor, every possible rebuttal dying before he could find the words to speak. Inside, he knew that Victor was right.

He knew he couldn't shut out the world completely.

After all, he was only human.

He didn't need to be a piece of granite to lead these men.

Thankfully, Victor didn't dwell on the subject for very long, leaving Michael to himself after their talk. It was just the solitude that Michael needed to put his mind back together. Though he mourned the loss of Jeremy and Beth (especially now that he found out their names), he tried to put the past behind him while vowing to make good on their sacrifice.

It was as Michael was looking at maps of the city to pick his next target that he became aware of another visitor.

Sarah made her return to his room. The pixie brunette looked a little worse for wear than usual. She was wearing the same green fatigues that she usually preferred but her outer jacket had been discarded, no doubt because it was ripped and stained with blood. In its place, Sarah wore a simple white tank top that showed off a generous portion of cleavage and hinted at the rest of her bosom contained within.

Her arm had been bandaged properly since they'd returned, and this time, there was very little trace of blood.

As soon as Michael's eyes met hers, she smiled. Sarah's smile was quite naturally one of her best qualities.

"I never got a chance to say thank you up there," said Sarah, gesturing upward. "So I figured now was the time."

"Thank you for what?" asked Michael. "I don't feel like I did much back at the warehouse."

Sarah shook her head and gestured to her arm. "You helped me with the initial bandage, tying the knot to keep pressure on it. With my arm the way it is, I'm not sure I could have done it on my own."

"If not me, someone else would have," he said nonchalantly. "You don't need to thank me for that."

Sarah chuckled softly and moved closer. "Yes, I do. I could have lost a lot of blood if not for you. And it was you that did it, so that's why I'm grateful to you."

She had moved almost uncomfortably close now. She was so close to Michael now that he couldn't help but get whiffs of her scent, something that was entirely pleasing for sure but put him on uncertain ground. The last time he'd been this close to another woman, he'd been hopping into bed with Jade.

So why was it that his brain was thinking about Sarah being pushed into a bed now? Why was he thinking about watching her generous bosom ripple as she fell against the bed?

He tried to shake the thoughts from his mind quickly lest he embarrass himself.

Thankfully, Sarah couldn't see the troubled thoughts running through his mind. At least he had something going for him tonight.

"I would have done it for anyone," muttered Michael a moment later.

He nearly jumped when he felt her hand land on his arm. Looking over at her, Sarah was gazing back at him with her big, brown eyes.

"I know that," she said softly. "But you still did it for me, and I'm grateful for it. Just like I'm grateful for you. Today was hard, wasn't it?"

"To say the least," he mumbled, still trying not to hear Beth's screams.

Sarah nodded slowly. "I'm going to miss them. Jeremy and Beth. They were good people, and they fought for a good cause. At least I know their sacrifice wasn't for nothing."

Not knowing what to say, Michael nodded his head. When he didn't reply verbally, Sarah picked up the conversation again.

"Why do you fight, Michael?"

His knee-jerk reaction kicked in. "It's complicated, Sarah. Hard to explain."

She wasn't at all deterred by his non-answer. "I figured you'd say that. I can only imagine what you've seen. So many people here have heartbreaking stories. I guess you could say mine's the same. I used to have three older brothers for most of my life. Three brothers that I could always depend on but Bancroft has robbed me of all three in different ways."

Michael turned to look at her. "In what ways?"

Sarah ticked off her fingers one by one. "Let's see. One drowned while on a sunken transport ship during the first failed invasion of Occitania. One died at the Battle of Aberdeen. The last one, my oldest brother, he was conscripted to serve in one of the regiments fighting in Tyrol. He was killed during one of the operations there, struck in an ambush. We never did get his body back, which is the saddest part. My mother nearly died of a broken heart."

Michael couldn't help but feel sorry for her now. He had no idea that she had such loss, especially at her young age.

"I'm sorry, Sarah, I had no idea. That's a lot of family members to lose in short succession."

Sarah bit back the tears and nodded. "It's okay. That's why I'm here, right? To get to a point where we can see a future without Bancroft. Though they're not here anymore, I think they would be proud of their little sister. It's one of the ways I can avenge their memories."

"You should be careful about feelings of vengeance. It's not a good road to go down."

Sarah nodded. "You're right, of course. That's why it helps so much to talk out my feelings. It makes me feel so much better knowing I have a friend to listen."

At that point, Sarah squeezed Michael's arm gently. "We're friends now, right Michael? More than anything, I could use a friend."

He didn't have the heart to say no. Despite not wanting to give in, he couldn't help himself.

"Yes, Sarah, we're friends now."

*****

There was nothing more pleasant to a naval officer than having the wind in your face and the spray of the ocean upon your cheek.

Admiral Nick Reynolds stood on the bow ofRevenge as he looked toward the western horizon. The waters were remarkably calm this morning and the rising sun behind him seemed to hold a promise of another beautiful summer day.

In the last few days, Nick had found himself gazing toward the western horizon with a sense of purpose and overall mystique, especially now that they were within a couple weeks of Quiller's Cove. It was his second journey into this remote area of the world, the first having been nearly three years ago when he was sent here with a small force to quell the Occitanian threat. His mission proceeded according to plan until he was handicapped by the loss of several ships, all thanks to Jack Easterbrook who received the ships in question.

And now, three years later, he was coming once more to Quiller's with the thoughts of yet another showdown with Easterbrook. This conflict would be much more massive than the one three years ago as his mighty armada descended on Easterbrook's forces encamped at Quiller's.

Reynolds had already heard about the naval base being occupied by the enemy's forces. The naval station had gone dark completely, not sending or replying to any dispatches sent to the island. With the close proximity of the base to the Fourth Vector, that lack of response seemed to signify that Easterbrook's forces had likely occupied the island, cutting them off from the rest of Java.

Reynolds could only imagine the horrors of those Javans stuck on Quiller's right now. He knew the Fourthies were savage, and no doubt Easterbrook had set his men to butchery on the remaining garrison. Reynolds wondered if there would even be anything left of the garrison by the time he arrived and liberated it from Easterbrook's hordes.

At least he would get the chance to play the hero. He had no doubt that whatever forces Easterbrook had with him wouldn't be able to stand up to his modern fleet. Reynolds had a briefing about that very topic later this morning, but he was certain that he would smash his way through the renegade Javan ships as well as any Fourthie vessels, putting an end to this war once and for all.

His mind temporarily sated with thoughts of future glory, Reynolds made his way back to his quarters to do some work before his briefing later that morning. When that time came, he was visited in his quarters by Lt. Joe Carpenter, the chief of naval intelligence on theRevenge.

Reynolds hadn't quite made up his mind yet on Lt. Carpenter. While seemingly a very competent officer without a single enemy on the ship, he found the man to be too friendly for his own good. His assumed levels of friendliness put Reynolds into a state of unease, almost as if the man was trying to scheme his way into his good graces.

Reynolds was content to keep him at an arm's length for the duration of this mission, although his intel was crucial to their mission.

"Lt. Carpenter, is it that time again?" asked Reynolds as he continued writing out an order for another captain.

"It certainly is, sir," answered Carpenter with a broad grin and a crisp salute. It was hard to dislike the man otherwise, but Reynolds wasn't convinced that this wasn't all an act to curry favor. "Just let me set up my materials and we'll begin momentarily."

Those materials included a standing billboard that was setup to face Reynolds' desk. On that billboard were the known ships under Easterbrook's command, those that had defected with him almost two years ago. While few in number, it was assumed these ships would be his most potent, with no one in Javan high command seeing much of a threat in any Fourthie ships that might be with him.

For all intents and purposes, the only thing they were worried about were two heavy cruisers, one light cruiser, three destroyers, and one very ancient battleship.

Upon seeing the old battleshipCenturion listed, Reynolds began to chuckle. "Our Emperor was wise to give Easterbrook that old battleshipCenturion. It'll be more of a hindrance to him than a help. It'll reduce the speed of his force considerably, allowing us to constantly stay one step ahead."