Fourth Vector Ch. 48

"More than ten battleships," answered Lumaire. "At least double that amount of cruisers and that's just what I saw before they chased me away."

"Tell him the other thing you told me," said Strange. "About that floating platform."

"What platform?" asked Nick. "Tell me now!"

"Sir, they have some kind of floating platform to launch planes. I'm guessing it's to retrieve planes as well. It's the longest vessel that I've ever seen and the deck is entirely flat. There's a very small superstructure off the portside, but that's it. It's the damnedest thing I've ever seen, sir. No idea how they would have come up with that but I'm guessing that's where all their airpower is coming from!"

"A floating platform," muttered Nick under his breath. "What in the hell has he been up to?"

"It makes a lot of sense," said Strange. "Perhaps it's the reason we keep seeing a ton of their planes."

"The planes are one thing, their numbers are another," said Nick. "I anticipated that we would find a few modern Javan vessels alongside some antiquated Fourthie vessels. If we are truly facing a modern fleet with that kind of numbers, this changes things quite a bit."

"What do you want to do then, sir? We've turned our course north northeast in order to intercept. If we keep at our current speed, we'd likely be in range at some point tomorrow."

"In range and unsure of what's really out there," said Nick. "I need you to change course at once. Put us east northeast until further notice. I don't want to close in on him until I know exactly what kind of numbers I'm working with here."

"I'll give the order at once," said Strange. "But even if Easterbrook has ten modern battleships, he'll still be entirely outnumbered. We still have the advantage, sir."

"We do," said Nick. "But battleships change the game a little. We should be cautious until we know their full strength. To that end, keep the seaplanes in the air. Figure out where Easterbrook's fleet will have gone and send up a force in strength for reconnaissance. I don't want as much as a single destroyer to change position without us knowing about it. Until that time, we need to be cautious. This isn't going to be as easy as once thought."

Strange nodded and saluted, moving to carry out his orders. Lumaire left right behind him, no doubt happy to make it through the whole meeting without shitting himself.

Their absence left Nick alone in his quarters once more.

Any thought of an easy victory against Easterbrook was quickly dashed. Now he had to contend with a real fleet out there, one that was led by an experienced admiral with modern designs.

Nick shook his head, getting the defeatist talk out of his mind. If anything, this could be construed as a good thing. His eventual victory over Easterbrook would look so much better if it were with modern ships instead of outdated designs.

Perhaps his chances of an honorable victory just went up?

*****

Just a short distance away, Dustin was on the flight deck of theCenturion and waiting for the appropriate signal to take off. He did another manual check of his plane to make sure that everything was in good working order right before he rested his hand on the throttle.

For a brief moment, Dustin allowed himself to look south, where he could just barely see a small flicker of enemy airpower on the horizon.

It was this activity which was the reason for his flight. Ever since the main body of the Javan fleet had been spotted, the Allies had noticed several spotter planes in their vicinity, culminating in a flyover by a Javan plane earlier that day. That flyover was certain to give away their position and the order had been given to make sure no other enemy flyers lived long enough to report their findings back to the fleet.

With this new gaggle of planes appearing in the distance, one thing seemed to be certain.

The Javan fleet now knew where their main body was. And with that discovery came a greater danger than before.

"Come on, give me the damn signal already," growled Dustin.

Ordinarily, Dustin wouldn't be going up with his men. Ever since he'd taken over as the commander of all Galician (and therefore all Western) airpower, he'd spent more time in the flight bridge on theCenturion than anywhere else. However, today's mission was crucial that it met with success, and that was one of the reasons he couldn't contain himself, scratching his name into the mission lead position during the briefing.

If anyone was going to shoot down those Javan bastards, it was going to him.

Finally, Dustin received the signal he was waiting for. One of the deck crew standing about twenty feet to the right of his plane raised two brightly-colored batons in the air and brought them down vertically at the same time. It was the signal to launch and Dustin pushed his throttle all the way forward.

It was still a rush to takeoff from the deck of theCenturion no matter how many times he'd done it. The part that always got him was looking down the small runway from the cockpit of the plane and realizing just how little ground he had to work with. Thankfully, these planes had been modified to make them lighter, allowing for easier takeoffs, but that didn't mean it wasn't a harrowing experience nearly every time.

Today though, his bird pushed off the deck while he still had at least a hundred feet to work with. Just behind him, the other members of his squad were taking off as well, one by one, and he circled theCenturion until they were all airborne and able to fly in formation.

Once that was settled, they turned due south for an interception with the Javan flyers.

Despite the distance, Dustin had one advantage over his Javan foes. His planes were small and lightweight, and they didn't have the floats like the Javan seaplanes that slowed them down. For that reason, he could count on greater speed to reach his enemy, and he hoped to be able to make that interception before they got back to the Javan fleet.

Time in the air went slowly during a pursuit. It always seemed like any ground (or air) they made up came at the cost of great time but slowly but surely, they managed to close the gap between the three Javan planes.

It was then that Dustin realized another advantage they had. The Javans were flying without any kind of formation whatsoever. The three seaplanes were flying in a loose gaggle together, evident of a lack of any tactical training on their part. Dustin wasn't surprised to see this, as he knew that this technology was only brought to Java relatively recently thanks to Jack. There was little wonder that it hadn't been refined to the level of his own forces.

It also meant that they would be sitting ducks for Dustin and his men.

As the distance between them narrowed, Dustin rocked his wings as a signal to his men to attack. He took the seaplane in the center, who only now seemed to realize what kind of danger he was in. His quarry made a steep dive toward the ocean, which was about the only way that he could put any distance between himself and his pursuers thanks to the relative weight of his plane.

However, the dive wasn't enough to keep Dustin off his tail, nor was the steep banking turn to the left, which actually slowed him down enough for Dustin to catch up.

"Another rookie move," muttered Dustin under his breath.

Unfortunately for the Javan pilot, he wouldn't get the chance to get more experience. Dustin lined up the plane in his sights and let off two quick bursts of fire. The Javan bird immediately exploded and crashed to the waves some hundred feet below.

As Dustin banked his plane to find the rest of his men, he found that another one of the Javans had already been eliminated. The only one left (and by all accounts the smartest man) was flying low to the water and rocking his plane back and forth, evading the two pursuers behind him. The Javan was flying in the only direction he knew, south, which was inevitably the direction of the rest of the enemy fleet.

He almost reached safety. It was some distance before Dustin could see warships on the horizon, those that he knew definitely weren't his own. They burned too clean to be Fourthie ships and thus they didn't have much in the way of smoke.

They also didn't have much in the way of protection from air cover, which gave Dustin an idea.

He waited until all his men were back in formation before giving the signal which consisted of rocking his wings to get their attention followed by a circular movement with his index finger and then patting his head. Finally, he then pointed toward the Javan fleet.

It was the sign for attack. Though he knew that his guns could do very little damage to the Javan ships, he still wanted to do a flyby and pepper their decks with fire.

Perhaps they would think twice about sending so many seaplanes to monitor the Western fleet.

With the message accepted, all five planes in Dustin's squadron split off, finding an appropriate target. For Dustin, that meant finding the largest battleship he could find. He found one a short distance away, this one with seaplane launchers on the stern that were currently empty. He imagined that one or two of the men that had been shot down probably came from this ship, and now it was time to add insult to injury.

He waited until he was lined up with the ship and fired his guns along the whole length from stern to bow. Just below him, he could see Javan sailors hit the deck, no doubt finding them unwitting targets at the sudden aerial assault. He banked to the right before lining up again, spraying their decks with another round of fire.

Dustin knew there would be no damage but he didn't care. The victory for morale would be enough for him. After one last flyby, he signaled for the rest of the squadron to form up and head for home.

The flight back to theCenturion was entirely uneventful, as he hoped it would be. There were still many of them who didn't like flying so far away from the ship because it increased the chances of getting lost but that didn't bother Dustin anymore, not when they had his radio to guide them to the carrier's position.

After he touched down and throttled down the engine, Dustin climbed out of the cockpit and made his way to the superstructure, ascending several sets of stairs until he came to the flight deck. It was here that he found Russ, who had only recently returned to theCenturion after a brief stay on theDestiny.

"Well, how'd it go?" asked Russ as soon as he saw Dustin. "Did you take down those flyers?"

"All three of them are confirmed KIA," replied Dustin. "We even took it a step further and paid a visit to the enemy fleet."

Russ raised an eyebrow. "I take it you gave them your usual courtesy?"

Dustin couldn't help but smirk. "Let's just say they won't soon forget our visit. We shot up several ships before returning back."

Russ started to chuckle. "I guess they'll think twice about sending their planes so close to us moving forward."

"That was my thought exactly. They don't have many seaplanes to spare so the more we can take down now, the less we have to deal with before we arrive in Java."

"Good man. Any other changes I should know about? They change course or anything like that?"

Dustin shook his head. "Still on the same path but my men will keep monitoring. As of right now, they're on a path to intercept with us. We might want to head further north."

Russ winced. "I'd rather not if I can help it. By all accounts, if we turn further north, we'll end up in Occitania."

Dustin's expression sobered quickly. "Well, then we'll just have to give them an excuse to sail away from us, won't we?"

"Easier said than done," said Russ quietly. "But we'll keep trying."

*****

"I need that damage report now, Lieutenant! Or are you going to wait until every hair on my head is gray before you give it to me?"

Nick Reynolds couldn't have been any more annoyed. Or impatient for that matter. Not only did he have three seaplanes that were shot out of the sky, but now he had five ships in his task force that had been shot up by the Fourthies.

On one ship, he'd already lost twelve men and had a further sixteen injured. The damage was relatively light but if the Fourthies had shown that they could shoot up the decks, what else could they do?

Could they bomb them from air?

Could they do anything more sinister than that?

Nick's mind was racing by the time the lieutenant from the fifth ship finally answered the radio summons.

"Light casualties, sir, very light. Only three men were wounded. Several deck planks will need to be replaced but other than that, we're just fine over here."

Nick nodded his head but said nothing else. For the small raid that it had been, he lost enough men and material to make him reconsider any other immediate attacks on the Fourthie fleet. The twin discoveries of the sheer number of modern, Fourthie ships as well as the greater threat of their airplanes meant that he was going to proceed with more caution moving forward.

That meant that he had to keep some distance between himself and Easterbrook until he could find another advantage.

Thankfully, Admiral Strange was in the room with him to make any necessary changes.

"I want you to change our course again," instructed Nick. "With these latest developments, I think rushing into any engagements with Easterbrook and his forces to be unwise. I think we should pull back and shadow them until the time comes that we can find an advantage to attack."

Strange raised an eyebrow. "We're not retreating, are we?"

"Of course, we're not fucking retreating," snapped Nick. "Do you think someone like me would let himself retreat from a traitorous officer who never should have risen above the rank of commander? No, this is no retreat. This is a withdrawal until we can find a new advantage to use against him."

Strange didn't look convinced. "And what new course do you want to set? Head east?"

"Head east," repeated Nick. "Due east. We can be sure that's the one direction that Easterbrook is going to go. For now, we keep our distance until we can pick a spot to give battle at our choosing."

"As you say, sir. I'll give the order now."

Strange didn't linger after making the statement, and Nick was grateful to have him gone. If he was being honest, these twin developments made him much more nervous than he cared to admit.

This was supposed to be an easy victory. This was the time when he was supposed to humiliate his old rival before setting up for the invasion of the rest of the Fourth Vector, killing anyone who dared to oppose them.

How had things changed so quickly over the course of a single day?

And more importantly, if Easterbrook was content to go across the ocean with that much force without seeking a decisive engagement with Nick's forces, then what was he missing?

What reason could Easterbrook have for keeping Nick at arm's length and avoiding conflict?

Surely it wasn't all about force protection, not when he had that many modern ships at his disposal.

But perhaps he was trying to protect something else?

What if he was trying to protect a force that was heavier than just raiders?

What if Easterbrook had an army that he was trying to hide?

At that point, everything made sense to him. Easterbrook's fleet needed to keep him at arm's length with the hopes that they could protect whatever land forces were with them. That probably took the form of troop transports, which would be slow-moving and vulnerable.

And if Nick had to deal with a significant amount of his own transports, where would he put them?

He'd put them as far away from the enemy as possible.

Nick grabbed his map of the ocean surrounding Quiller's Cove and studied it. It had been marked with Easterbrook's earlier position as well as his apparent course. Nick made a marking where his fleet was and its current course as well.

If Easterbrook was trying to hide transports, the best place to do so would be further north, on the other side of his main body.

Perhaps this was the weakness that Nick was seeking?

Nick didn't stay in his quarters long enough to give it any more thought. He nearly ran to the bridge, hoping to find Strange before he got too far away. Sure enough, he found the man talking with his deputy as he ironed out the orders to turn courses.

"Sir, has something changed?" asked a clearly confused Strange as soon as he saw Nick.

Nick nodded. "There's a fleet of Fourthie transports out there. We need to find it. It'll be the key toward stopping Easterbrook."

*****

The closer that Trevor got to Belfort, the more the landscape of Java changed. Several weeks ago, when Trevor and his army first crossed over the border with Thessaly, there had been nothing but lush and fertile farmland as far as the eyes could see. That part of the inner continent featured rolling hills, deep valleys, and sparkling streams that made it quite an idyllic country.

However, once he got about two hundred and fifty miles outside of Belfort, most of that scenic countryside melted away. That was when Trevor found several Javan cities, all of them smaller than Belfort, but quite a change in size from what he found with the interior villages. Many of them were set up as factory cities, with a productive industrial sector that provided supplies for the Javan Army.

Needless to say, those were some of the most satisfying places to capture. Trevor was able to outfit his men with Javan boots, helmets, and NT-12s fresh off the line while denying them to Bancroft.

The closer he got to Belfort, the more of these smaller cities he encountered.

It was nearly two hundred miles outside of Belfort that his army finally caught up to the Javan Army under General Ryan, who had stopped their retreat after the Battle of the Narbo River.

Frankly, Trevor wasn't too sure that Ryan wouldn't pick up and retreat further once he put the slightest bit of pressure on his lines, an opinion that was shared by others in his high command.

"I'd say we just launch a heavy attack on his center and see what happens," said Gavin with some confidence as they reviewed a map of Ryan's position. "I think Ryan will shit himself and continue his retreat."

"We can only hope that will be the case," replied Trevor. "Ryan's behavior as of late seems to suggest he's completely lost his nerve."

Gavin snorted. "It's of little wonder why. We've now smashed two of his armies and forced him to retreat with his tail between his legs. I'm just surprised that Bancroft continues to allow him to be in command. Surely, there has to be a colonel or even a captain somewhere that knows how to fight?"

"Wouldn't surprise me one bit if that becomes the case," said Trevor. "It's my guess that Bancroft has so much on his hands that relieving Ryan of his position isn't his top priority. As long as he has a Javan army between us and him, Ryan's incessant retreating isn't the biggest issue for him. That will change though the closer that Ryan gets to Belfort."

"Odd times that we find ourselves in," replied Gavin. "Who would have thought when we first started this conflict, we'd be looking at capturing Belfort down the line with captured Javan weaponry and uniforms?"

Trevor smirked at that statement, as apt as it was. His old life in Amboy where he'd been little more than a shopkeeper now seemed like another lifetime ago. He'd been the leader of this army for several years now, and it almost felt like he'd never done anything else but fight Javans.

One day, peace would return to Tyrol. What would he do then? If they were successful in this war, what would an independent Tyrol look like?

Trevor shook the thought from his mind. He didn't like to dream too much about the future when there were still many things in the present that could get in the way of his goals. For that reason alone, he turned his attention back to the map.