Fourth Vector Ch. 48

"So good to see you too," replied Nina as her eyes then flickered to the entrance to the tent. "Did Trevor...?"

Martha smiled and nodded. "I think he figured that you could use someone to talk to. A familiar face if nothing else. I hope that's okay."

For some reason, it was okay. Despite knowing that Trevor was up to something, her joy at seeing an old friend outweighed any suspicion she had at why Trevor had set this up.

"It's more than okay," said Nina, putting on a genuine smile. "It's just like being at home again to see your face."

"Not quite home," said Martha with a chuckle. "Many of these Javan towns that we travel through are quite a deal larger than Bushing. It almost makes me homesick at times! Living in Bushing seems like it was so long ago."

"Isn't that the truth?" replied Nina. "I feel like my memory of my old life gets hazier every single day. At one point in time, I was just Nina from Bushing, living an ordinary life without the prospect of anything else."

Martha looked around the tent. "And now look at you! There's not a soul left in Bushing that hasn't heard of you. Especially with what you've accomplished."

Nina started to turn red. "Most of it has been Trevor if I'm being honest. He's been the real architect of our success."

"But he is your man though, isn't he? He couldn't have done it alone."

Nina smiled. "I like to think that's the case."

"Well, you've certainly done well for yourself. You've made Bushing proud, I can say that. Especially now that we're so deep in Java."

"About as far away from Bushing as we've ever been," said Nina. "Truthfully, I can't wait to go back to a simpler life. And get away from this never-ending war."

Martha nodded. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? And the war has taken its toll on you. How are you doing, hun? I mean truly. Are you hanging in there?"

The question was a stark reminder of Nina's current pain. She fought back the tears and shook her head.

The mother in Martha was quick to react. She enfolded Nina in her arms and carefully brushed her hair with her fingers.

"There, there, Nina," whispered Martha. "You can let it all out."

There was something about the way that she said the words that opened the floodgates. Nina bawled into the other woman's shoulder, releasing all her pent-up frustration and emotions while Martha continued to hug her. Nina lost track of all time. She could have been crying for nearly an hour but she had no idea.

Every single source of emotion flowed from her body in the form of tears.

"The loss of a child goes beyond the loss of just about anything else, doesn't it, dear?" whispered Martha after some time.

Nina found herself nodding. "You're right. I can't bear to look at myself most days. Or even to look at Trevor. It's corrupting my soul."

The look in Martha's eyes was understanding in a way that Nina distinctly recognized. It was no surprise the words that came out of Martha's mouth next.

"Did you know that I lost several of my own before my children were born?"

Nina wiped the tears from her cheeks. "You lost them? How many? How?"

Martha's face assumed a look of melancholy. "I've had my own miscarriages, dear. Three of them to be exact."

The bottom fell out of Nina's stomach. She knew her pain from losing one baby. Martha had to suffer it three times? She couldn't even imagine the pain.

"How?" Nina repeated. "Why?"

"Not every pregnancy is successful," replied Martha. "In my case, it took several attempts before Arthur and I were able to have our first. I was... miserable after the first one. I'd felt a failure that I'd never known possible. It was a failure of the soul, a failure at being a woman. They were dark days, days I never want to revisit again."

"That's exactly what I'm feeling," said Nina. "Like I've failed at being a woman. Like I can't even look Trevor in the eye."

"It's a terrible state to be in," agreed Martha. "And it doesn't go away lightly. It recurred with every miscarriage that I had, until the time that I was able to hold my firstborn in my arms and know that I'd done it. I beat those evil demons that kept taking my babies."

Nina swallowed hard. "How did you get to that point? I can't even bear the thought of another pregnancy at this point. Not that we're trying but this just kind of happened. How did you get over the first loss?"

Martha smiled fondly. "You want to know the real reason? It was Arthur."

"Arthur? Your husband?"

Martha nodded. "If left to my own devices, I never would have recovered. I wanted to wallow in my misery forever but it was Arthur's support that brought me back from the brink. It was his love that reminded me there was something to live for. I don't know if I would have made it without that. No, I'm certain I wouldn't have. The people in our lives that form our support network, that's who you have to rely on."

For a brief moment, Nina looked over at the entrance. She felt a spur of anger take hold.

"Did Trevor ask you to do this, Martha? Did this come at his direction?"

Martha smiled. "My words are my own, Nina. Yes, Trevor came to me because he knew I was from Bushing. He thought that seeing a familiar face might help you in this time right now but what I've just said to you is my own personal experience and my truth. He couldn't have known the way that I feel."

Nina nodded and felt her anger evaporate as quickly as it arrived. At that point, she questioned why she was even angry in the first place. Even if Trevor had intentionally sought out Martha for her message, was that such a bad thing?

Didn't he mean he cared enough to help her through this?

Nina let out a long breath. "When does it stop hurting, Martha? It's been two weeks already. When will the pain go away?"

"There are some that say the pain never goes away. That it's always waiting for you in quiet moments to reappear when you're most vulnerable. In some ways, that is correct but life will go on. There will eventually come a point when you think about it less and less each day. You will never forget it but when it does come up, you will say a silent prayer and move on. You will embrace those that love you and continue on with your life. You will never forget but things will get easier, I promise you that."

Nina nodded sullenly. "I can only hope so. Sometimes I think this wound in my heart will only continue to get worse."

Martha put her hands on Nina's shoulders. "Only if you allow it to. You can choose to surrender to the pain or you can choose to endure but there's only one path that leads you out of the darkness. You know which path it is, don't you?"

Nina nodded slowly.

Martha removed her hands from her shoulders and gently patted Nina's hand. "I'll always be here if you need to talk. We Bushing girls need to stay together, don't we?"

Nina felt a soft laugh erupt from her throat. "It's been wonderful to see you again, Martha. And I would like that very much. You've given me a lot to think about."

"I'm only passing along a message that another woman told me," replied Martha. "Keep your chin up, dear. Things will get better from here. I promise."

*****

Bancroft did not take the news about Reynolds withdrawal very well.

"What the fuck do you mean he's withdrawing, you brainless dipshit?" he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

The recipient of his fury, none other than his loyal deputy, Clark, managed to look both angry and embarrassed at the sudden outburst.

"Sire, Admiral Reynolds is reporting taking heavy casualties in the battle," started Clark before he was once more interrupted by the Emperor.

"What kind of casualties? What madness is this? He was supposed to attack defenseless transport ships! How does one take casualties attacking sitting duck targets, you buffoon?"

Clark had to visibly restrain himself before finding the poise to respond.

"Admiral Reynolds did not find the transports. Instead, his fleet bumped into the main Fourthie fleet under Easterbrook. Admiral Reynolds reports that the enemy's warships caused the losses of two his cruisers and two other smaller vessels. With the strategic initiative lost, he deemed it wise to withdraw when he did."

"Strategic initiative," mumbled Bancroft before he slapped the report out of Clark's hand. "What a bunch of bullshit, Clark! Reynolds had his chance to deal Easterbrook a blow he couldn't recover from and he squandered it!" Bancroft turned his head toward the sky. "Why am I surrounded by simpletons?!"

Clark mumbled something under his breath that was incomprehensible. Perhaps it was for the best that Bancroft didn't hear what it was, knowing Clark's aptitude for defeatism and sarcasm.

"How far off the coast is Easterbrook at present time?" snapped Bancroft.

"Admiral Reynolds reports that he could land at Lockhaven within the next three days," answered Clark. "He hasn't changed course and it seems that this is all but guaranteed as his landing spot."

"And Reynolds' position?"

"Just to the south, shadowing Easterbrook."

"Can Reynolds intercept Easterbrook before he lands?"

Clark shook his head. "Admiral Reynolds has indicated that he believes Easterbrook will be able to land before he can close the distance between the two forces again."

Bancroft grinded his teeth together. "Surrounded byfucking fools," he repeated, shaking his head. "Then my army will have to do the job that Reynolds could not. However, I do not want the Fourthie fleet to get away. When I smash that army, I want them to be trapped on the continent with no place to go. Are we clear? Reynolds is ordered to attack that fleet and throw everything he has at them. Under no circumstances is he permitted to let them get away. I'd rather see my whole fleet underwater than let one Fourthie vessel escape. Is that clear, Clark?"

Clark nodded quickly. "I'll have the message sent over to Admiral Reynolds at once."

"Snap to it, Clark! Lives are on the line!"

Though Bancroft had no way of knowing it, the last shred of respect that Clark once had for him had now been completely destroyed. His loyal deputy after all these years now hated him with every fiber of his being.

Emperor Bancroft was a completely different beast than Admiral Bancroft, and everyone within his circle absolutely knew it.

Bancroft remained blissfully unaware of the loss of his man's respect. At this very moment, he was making all progress north toward Lockhaven, taking his army of some eighty thousand men moving toward the coming confrontation with his old protege.

Bancroft wasn't that worried about the Fourthie army landing near Lockhaven. He remembered several reports that Easterbrook had given on his last visit to Java, detailing the levels of technology of the Fourthie savages. Most of them were so behind technologically speaking that they would be no threat to Bancroft's modern troops.

He even chuckled to himself when he remembered that some of those savages even fought with bows and arrows.

No, this upcoming fight was going to be a bloodbath, and no doubt whatever modern troops that were with Easterbrook were going to be few in number and unlikely to make a difference.

He rode now to victory over their backward hordes, with the hope that Easterbrook would be amongst the dead when it was all over.

But the fleet, the fleet couldn't be allowed to get away. It had to be destroyed.

Reynolds better follow his orders to the letter. He had to end one of these conflicts before he lost control of all of them.

"Sire?"

Bancroft snapped back to reality as he saw that his newest general, Scott Menard, formerly of the Elite Guard, was trying to get his attention.

"What was that, General?" asked Bancroft, not paying attention.

"You muttered something that I couldn't hear," said Menard. "I wasn't sure if you were speaking to me or not."

Bancroft shook his head slowly. "I didn't realize I was doing it, General. No, just thinking aloud about an old enemy about to get his comeuppance. I haven't seen him in two years but I'm looking forward to seeing him one more time before I kill him."

Menard grunted. "The best enemy is a dead enemy."

"Right you are, General. Right you are."

*****

A few hundred miles to the southeast, another army was on the move.

It was only that morning that Trevor gave the order to attack the Javan Army in front of them, positioned just about two hundred miles from Belfort.

Trevor faced off against an army paralyzed by fear. General Ryan had been completely ineffective as a commanding officer, and now Trevor's spies were reporting that Ryan had been detained and removed from command, replaced by a desk general from Belfort without much in the way of recent experience.

He looked forward to testing the mettle of this man, and seeing whether he would be a worthy opponent.

For now, the Javan Army was positioned on ground that favored a defender. It was stretched out across nearly ten miles of rock-filled, hilly land, much of it broken by heavy tree cover. It was a natural position to coordinate a defense, and under any other opponent, Trevor might have considered against attacking it head-on.

However, this was the same army that he'd already beaten once. He'd forced the Javans to retreat all the way from the border with Thessaly, and he was willing to gamble that their morale was terrible because of it.

The actual battle kicked off just the way Trevor expected it to go. He sent most of his forces smashing into the center after a brief bombardment that caught the Javans unaware. Fighting the center was as thick and as fierce as it could be, but sure enough, the Javans started to give ground soon after while many of the younger men flat-out surrendered. With their surrender came the complete unhinging of the Javan center, but that was where Trevor had to give them some credit.

The remaining veterans didn't flee the field. Instead, they left the position but pulled back in mostly good order, allowing Trevor's men to occupy the lower level heights. By midafternoon, the Javans had begun an orderly retreat, moving their forces back along the road to Belfort.

It wasn't nearly as great of a victory as the Battle of the Narbo River, but it was still a victory nonetheless. With the Javan withdrawal, they were now back to moving closer to the capital.

Another bit of good news also arrived that afternoon from the north. It was being reported that Jack Kincardine was just a day or two off the coast with his army, and by all reports he was going to land in Lockhaven unopposed.

The trap was now set. Between Trevor's forces in the south and Kincardine's forces in the north, they hoped to crush what remained of the Javan Army between them, as well as take Bancroft with them.

Still high on the fruits of victory, Trevor came back to reality as he approached the tent he shared with Nina that evening. Though he had much to be proud about, his mood took a dive when faced with the prospect of another night spent sleeping by himself.

It was beginning to take a terrible toll on him. It was like every day that passed, he could feel his relationship with Nina continue to degrade. The worst part was that he knew she was suffering just as much as he was, if not more.

This should be a time when they came together to help heal each other, not let the fates punish them separately.

Sadly, Trevor didn't have much hope that anything would change. Even having an old friend of Nina's stop by the tent the day before didn't seem to change her mood much.

He was beginning to think this was permanent.

As Trevor entered the tent, he found Nina in her usual position on her cot. This time though, she wasn't laying on her side but rather on her back, staring up at the fabric above her head. Her eyes flickered toward him when she heard him enter but soon moved back to the fabric above her.

Trevor didn't say a word as he prepared for bed. He slipped out of his military fatigues and boots and prepared to move over to his own cot. Turning out the light, Trevor mimicked her body language by laying on his back as well.

Several minutes ticked by while Trevor just stared upward, wanting so desperately to go to sleep.

Yet, it was the sound of Nina's cot shifting that first caught his attention that something was up. The second sign was feeling the movement of his own, and Nina sliding onto his.

Trevor's head pivoted toward her as she hovered next to him.

"Nina?" he whispered.

She shook her head as something wet fell against his chest.

"I'm sorry, Trevor. I'm so sorry," she whimpered.

Trevor used his arms to pull her close to him. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Nina came willingly, letting herself be crushed against him. She didn't sob or cry or even speak for several moments as she just let herself be held.

For Trevor, it was the first time he'd held her since the poisoning, a reminder of how much he'd missed having her in his arms.

Finally, Nina was the one to break the silence.

"Thank you for sending Martha to me," she whispered.

"Did it help to see her?" he asked. "I couldn't tell yesterday if it made a difference."

Nina pivoted her head so that she could look in his eyes. "It did. It just took me a while to process everything that she told me."

Trevor's brow crinkled. "What did she tell you?"

To his surprise, she actually smiled. "It's not that important. What is important is you. It's us, Trevor. I haven't been very good to you lately and I feel just awful about that. I want to make it up to you."

He started to shake his head. "You have nothing to make up to me. I understand, believe me I do. I can't imagine what you were going through. I know how much it hurt me to think about the loss but I knew how badly you were struggling too. I don't blame you for that."

"I could have handled it better though, Trevor. I could have been better to you. I could have let you comfort me, but instead I shut you out. I thought that... well, it's not important what I thought. I was wrong. It was wrong. And I'm sorry. I don't want to shut you out anymore. I love you and I need you. I need us to be okay. I need our relationship to be strong again."

Trevor tightened his grip on her body, pulling her close. "We're strong, Nina. I've never given up on you or us. I'm not about to start now."

He could feel Nina's hot breath against his chest. "Will you indulge me tonight then? Can we pretend like our suffering is behind us and remember the passion that we once had?"

Nina didn't wait for his response before she was already kicking off her pants. It was the feeling of her bare skin against his that triggered his bodily response, already sensitive at the lack of intimacy over the past few weeks.

After her pants had been deposited on the ground, Nina shifted her body on top of him. She grabbed his manhood and aimed it between her legs, letting out a satisfied whimper as he slipped inside her.

"I needed that so bad," she whispered as he filled her completely.

Trevor's hands reached around to grab her ass. "You feel incredible."

Nina reached over to caress his cheek. "I want to be us again. Show me that we still can?"

Trevor answered in the only way he knew how.

In the darkness of the tent, their relationship was renewed once more.

*****

If anyone was nervous that morning, it was Michael Bainbridge.

It was a feeling that Michael had long since grown accustomed to, feeling the tinges of anxiety before every major operation.

If he had any luck, this would be his biggest operation yet. And he wasn't even planning an attack.

Quite the opposite in fact. Today, he was going to be trying a different tactic for control, one based upon a plan that had been hatched together with Victor the day before.

"Last chance to back out," warned Victor as a small handful of rebels surrounded Michael. "No one will question you if you decide this isn't worth it. We don't know what the mood is in the camp of those rebel regiments."