Fourth Vector Ch. 50

Nina took a more conciliatory approach. "I think what the men are trying to say is that it's a little too early for us to agree to such an offer. The main contest right now is in the north, and we'll have to await the results of what happens between Bancroft and Jack Kincardine."

Carson recovered some of his composure. "What shall I tell my emperor then? To prepare for a siege? Are we still enemies?"

Trevor looked at Nina first and then at Gavin second. Finally, he looked back at Carson. "Will you give us a moment to confer?"

The Javan envoy was only too happy to take a step back. Once he was gone, Trevor gathered the other two around him.

"It's an interesting proposal," said Nina in a quiet tone of voice. "But they can't honestly expect us to treat with them? Not while Bancroft is still dangerous?"

"My thoughts exactly," replied Trevor. "But I also don't think it's wise to piss off this new emperor, especially if Bancroft's days are numbered, which they just might be. Besides, we don't really need to take Belfort right this moment for the war to be over. If this new emperor doesn't have the forces to fight us, then he's a harmless threat after all."

"That still leaves up the question of Bancroft though," added Gavin. "What do we do about him?"

"We need to stall for time," said Nina. "At least until we know his fate. If Bancroft loses in the north, then we know that it's likely he'll lose his army. If he loses his army, he loses any control of the Javan state to this new emperor but if he wins, we'll still have to deal with him."

"If he wins," stressed Gavin. "Which is increasingly unlikely with each passing day."

"Unlikely but still a factor," said Trevor. "But that's beyond the point right now. This new emperor is in no position to offer us peace, not until we find out what happens in this next fight. I say we accept a temporary ceasefire. We stop right here outside the city and we await word from the north. Once he know what happens, then we can adjust our plans accordingly."

Gavin made a face. "The men aren't going to like it very much if we just halt this close to the enemy's capital."

"Maybe not," conceded Trevor. "But for the time being, it's going to have to do. There are events in play that are bigger than us right now. The only thing we can do at this moment is pray that Jack Kincardine and his army of Fourthies beats Bancroft."

Gavin scowled. "I always hated having my fate in someone else's hands."

Trevor put a comforting hand on the other man's shoulder. "Me too, but that's politics for you."

By the time they called Carson back over, the man was practically sweating. His expression turned around right away once Trevor announced his position.

"For now, we will have a ceasefire," said Trevor. "My army will move no closer to Belfort and there will be no fighting between your men and mine. Once the situation in the north changes, we will reevaluate our plans but for now, we will stop our march on the city."

Carson looked like someone who just dodged a bullet. "That is an incredibly wise decision considering the circumstances. Perhaps there can be a time when you can meet with my sovereign to start the process of this peace treaty."

Trevor held up both hands. "Again, we will await word from the north. This isn't an end to hostilities just yet. This is a ceasefire and we will treat it as such. Should the time come that we need to negotiate a settlement, we'll address that when we have to."

Even though Trevor's words brought Carson back to reality, the Javan still looked relieved. "I'll take word of this ceasefire to my emperor right away."

The envoy didn't stay much longer before he was headed back toward the capital. Once he was gone, Trevor looked at both Nina and Gavin.

"Well, it's out of our hands now. Everything that we have rests in the hands of Jack Kincardine. Let's hope that he can manage to beat Bancroft so that we can hold this new emperor to his promise."

Nina started to nod. "Let's hope."

*****

After a long night of uncertainty, the first hint of light was finally visible on the eastern horizon. Ambros watched the light grow from what was essentially a purplish color to one that showed stains of orange as the darkness melted away.

With the arrival of morning, it meant that this battle was about to resume.

Ambros almost looked forward to it. Their plan of action for today was solid and he had every indication that the Javan troops were overextended and exhausted from yesterday's action.

His own men seemed to be in good spirits as well.

"From the way I see it, the Javan boys don't seem to have much fight left in them," said one particular Swabian corporal, one of about ten soldiers that Ambros was currently addressing.

"I'd have to agree," added another private. "They seemed exhausted yesterday. I doubt they'll have much left in the tank for today."

"That's what we're planning on," said Ambros. "We attack hard and move quickly to recover the bulge in the center of our lines. All of it hinges on what you men can do."

One particular private, a man by the name of Carlred, nodded toward the enemy lines. "We still have a lot of men out there in no-man's-land. Men that were overrun during the attack last night. I hope that many of them are still alive."

"With any luck, they just might be," said Ambros. "But we can act like every man that's currently missing is just waiting for some reinforcements. I trust that you men will be their reinforcements today."

"Yes, sir!" came the echo from the rest of the men.

Their enthusiasm seemed to be shared by the rest of the men down the center of the Western line. Swabians, Galicians, Picards, Carinthians and more all seemed to have forgotten the beating they took the day before and were ready to repay that action with interest this morning.

By the time that the attack was scheduled to begin, Ambros stopped to have one final meeting with Greg.

"The men are as ready as they can be," he informed the Galician general. "I have high hopes for success today."

"I just got word that the artillery is ready to fire," said Greg. "We're going to be kicking this whole thing off in about ten minutes. A short barrage is going to fall on the Javan lines--nothing too heavy just in case we still have men stuck out there--but after that barrage is finished, then you'll get the signal to attack."

"Good, let's go get that victory that we all deserve," said Ambros before adding in one more thought. "And let's get it for Jack, wherever he is."

Greg nodded glumly. Though Jack's whereabouts were still unknown, there was the hope that he could still be found alive. That hope diminished with each passing hour, but it wasn't extinguished just yet.

"You better get back to the front," said Greg. "You'll only have a limited amount of time before this kicks off in earnest."

Ambros nodded and crossed the short distance to his command post on the front line. From there, the next ten minutes went by extremely slowly. Even his watch seemed to have frozen--a phenomena he attributed to the anxiety that always happened right before an attack.

It wasn't broken until he heard the sounds of the artillery going off in the rear. Suddenly, the positions in the extreme front of the Javan line started to explode as heavy ordnance dropped right on their heads. As the first rays of sunshine finally hit the battlefield, it could only highlight the fiery inferno that had become the Javan line.

But Greg was true to his word, and the artillery barrage did not last for long. More than anything, it served as a wake-up call to those Javans who were still resting from the night before. With artillery going off all around them, they stayed shut in their foxholes, taking relatively few casualties until the barrage was over.

That was all the signal that Ambros needed. After the last shells had been fired, he gave word to all his officers to start clearing out the no-man's-land that was between the two flanks. With a roar of approval, the mass of Western soldiers moved forward, bursting out of their trenches and foxholes and moving over ground that had been lost the night before.

They found a group of Javans that was largely too stunned to offer much resistance. That first line of Javans they encountered were still paralyzed from the barrage and several large groups of enemy soldiers surrendered rather than attempt to resist. The first leg of the attack was off to a fantastic start, and Ambros had high hopes that it could continue all the way to yesterday's starting line.

However, it was once they hit the second line that serious resistance began.

*****

Brian was startled awake as he heard the sounds of artillery in the distance behind him. He immediately wrapped his hands around his rifle and searched for Arnold, finding the Swabian already alert and watching their nearby surroundings.

"That's our artillery," said Arnold as he listened to the sounds. "Those are Swabian howitzers. You can tell by the whistle at the very end of the shot."

Sure enough, Brian could make out the sounds of the faint whistling sound in the distance.

"This must be a counterattack," said Arnold, his excitement evident in his tone. "We're pushing back against the Javans!"

"About time," grumbled Brian. "I was getting tired of sitting in this foxhole."

"It's good for us too," added Arnold. "No doubt, we would have been found by the Javans had they not attacked. We'd be sitting ducks here in the daylight."

"Do you think we should push back to join them?"

Arnold took one look at Brian's wounded leg. "Can you run?"

Brian winced. "Maybe a hobble would be more accurate."

"In that case, we'll stay put until the fighting gets closer to us," said Arnold. "For now, we'll keep a watch on both sides. We'll have to pay attention to the front of us for Javan reinforcements but to the rear as well for anyone retreating. This position just got a whole lot more dangerous."

Brian actually chuckled. "Maybe for them, not us. By the sounds of all that new gunfire, the Javans are going to be retreating fairly quickly."

Brian's guess turned out to be a fairly accurate assessment. Over the next hour, the sounds of gunfire grew closer and closer, approaching the rear of their position as their own countrymen inched the line ever forward. In that time, the two men hid from two groups of Javan reinforcements--one of them a platoon in size--as they made their way closer to the front.

Finally, the fighting was close enough that they could see the men moving behind them. Rather, it was the Javans that were moving backward where possible while the Western soldiers kept pressing.

"Come on, let's hit these Javans from behind," said Arnold as he pivoted his position. "The sooner we can make their position crumble, the sooner we can be united with our own people."

The two men started to fire, taking the unaware Javans by surprise when they started to get hit from two directions. The enemy soldiers crumpled quickly, allowing their comrades the chance to move forward. It was only then that some quick thinking by Brian prevented the relieving troops from firing on them, no doubt believing they were Javans at first.

"What the hell are you two doing out here?" asked a Galician soldier as he saw both Brian and Arnold sharing the hole. His eyes were then glued to Brian's bandage. "Wounded?"

"Last night," confirmed Brian, nodding his head. "Too dark to make it back so we stayed here for the night."

"It probably saved your life," said the Galician soldier. "We've already encountered a few pockets of trapped soldiers. No doubt there are more out there. It's a good thing we arrived when we did. Otherwise, who knows what might have happened to you."

"Looks like we're not out of the woods yet," said Arnold, gesturing to the sound of gunshots just ahead of their position. "I see movement in the trees up there!"

Sure enough, the movement that he saw was a rush of Javan soldiers pushing forward through the thicket. Both Arnold and Brian, as well as their Galician rescuers, opened fire, spraying the position and taking down several Javan soldiers in the process. The remaining men became pinned down and struggled for every movement as Galician soldiers moved forward to clear out the position.

Unfortunately for the Western troops, it was the first of many such small-scale counterattacks as enemy troops that hadn't spent the night on the front line (and thus weren't as exhausted) charged forward to contest the control of the land. For the next forty-five minutes, a desperate battle was fought in this stretch of the line that saw many casualties exchanged between both groups.

Many of those that first rescued Brian and Arnold's position were eventually wounded or killed, with the foxhole becoming the only protective place for injured men to take a degree of shelter.

It was only as the Western troops near the foxhole started to run out of ammunition that the last desperate attack happened, where they became momentarily pinned down by another group the size of a company.

It was here that Arnold became wounded, taking a shot in his right arm just below the elbow that caused an incredible amount of pain.

"Motherfucker!" he yelled, his rifle slipping out of his hands as he fell to the dirt. He was dragged away by one of the medics but that was whenever Brian lost track of him temporarily.

It was the feeling of another burning sting in his leg that caused him to yelp in pain and roll onto his back. Brian looked down at his wounded leg, finding yet another shot that went right through the thigh muscle and out the other side. It didn't hurt as much as the wound just below it but he became momentarily incapacitated.

"Get the medic over here!" yelled one of the Galicians near Brian. "He's wounded! He needs to be seen right now!"

Two pairs of hands were suddenly dragging Brian back to the foxhole where Arnold was already waiting nearby, his rifle resting on his leg while keeping his left hand on the trigger. His arm had already been bandaged but blood was still seeping through.

Brian scarcely had a moment to be looked at when they could hear the sounds of Javan voices inching closer. The enemy seemed to be only a few yards away and it was at that point that Brian prepared to go down with a fight.

For a brief moment, Brian thought that they were all goners, but that was until they received critical reinforcements from the south. Sounds of heavy fire just behind their position soon intensified and before anyone knew it, a full battalion of Swabians swept into the area, mopping up the resistance left by the Javans.

One moment, they'd been on the brink of being overrun. In the next, they were safely behind their own lines.

"Get all these men back behind the lines," instructed a Swabian captain as he looked upon Arnold, Brian, and the rest of the wounded men. "They aren't in any shape to keep fighting."

Being carried back was half the struggle. The rough hands that lifted Brian onto a makeshift stretcher nearly caused him to pass out due to the pain in his leg.

"The gods piss on me, can you stop yanking my fucking leg!" he swore to one hapless Swabian private who was being a little too careless.

Before long, he was loaded up onto a stretcher next to Arnold, and the two men were being carried to the rear. For the most part, Arnold didn't look so bad, and he almost seemed relieved that they were finally getting taken off the front lines.

"We did our part, right, Brian?" he asked, once they were close to the makeshift hospital. "I mean, we gave them hell before we had to be brought back here?"

"We sure did," replied Brian. "And we held the line overnight. Well, part of it at least."

Arnold nodded. "I'm still thankful that you showed up when you did. Without you, I never would have made it."

Brian cracked a smile despite the pain. "Right back at you. At least the rest of the army seems to be marching forward. They might be halfway to the Javan capital by now."

Arnold chuckled. "I had a feeling it was going to be a good day after all."

*****

"Please, Sire, I'm begging that you reconsider. We need to either pull the flanks in or pull the men out altogether! This position isn't tenable."

For the first time in ages, Bancroft was speechless. The only thing he could do was stare at the front, where even now streams of Javan soldiers were now making their way to the rear. Many of them had been wounded, but enough of them were just moving with the momentum.

All of them were now desperately trying to get away from the Fourthie counterattack that had battered through the center of the Javan lines and was now in the process of retaking all the ground that they lost yesterday.

The army was on the brink of collapse unless something changed quickly. And Menard was tired of waiting.

He grabbed the emperor by the shoulders and forced him to look into his eyes. Just behind Bancroft, three of his Elite Guardsmen raised their weapons, aiming at Menard for the slight.

"Sire, I need you to concentrate," said Menard slowly. "I need you to give the order to pull the army back before it's destroyed! If the Fourthies pierce the line, our army will be effectively cut in two. You need to give the order!"

"Where did it all go wrong?" muttered Bancroft, ignoring the question. "My path to power was perfect, just perfect. I did everything right. Why now is it all falling around me?"

Menard's mouth dropped open. Despite the severity of the situation, nothing seemed to be getting through to him.

If the Emperor wasn't in any shape to make the call, then Menard would. He grabbed his radio and sent word out to all the officers.

"Pull the army back," he ordered. "Disengage from the fighting as orderly as you can manage. Don't let the enemy break your lines!"

By this point in time, it was far too late for such an order. The sound of fighting was getting closer, and the stream of men retreating near their camp had become a viscous flood. Most of them couldn't even be bothered to carry their rifle, ditching it alongside their helmets and bolting away from the battlefield as quickly as their legs could carry.

These young men, many of them not old enough to be shaving regularly, were utterly and totally broken.

With the army breaking, Admiral Clark entered the tent, no doubt to find out what Bancroft was doing. He sensed the Emperor's breakdown after just a few moments of looking around. Finally, he looked at Menard.

"We need to get moving. We need to get the Emperor out of here," said Clark firmly. "The Fourthies will be upon this position shortly. If we don't move now, we'll all end up as prisoners."

"I just can't abandon my army," argued Menard. "Not while they're still in the field!"

Clark looked over at Bancroft and then back at Menard. "You can do as you like. I'm taking the Emperor out of here!"

With those words, the ever loyal Clark grabbed the arm of Bancroft while using his spare hand to snap his fingers at the three guardsmen. They left the tent in a hurry as several mortars exploded not far from them.

Before Menard prepared to move back with the army, he watched as Clark and Bancroft disappeared with the three guardsmen, moving south as quickly as their small vehicle could go.

For a man that had invaded the north of Java with an army nearly a hundred thousand strong, he was leaving with only four other men.

It was a downfall of epic proportions.

*****

There was something about his mind that kept going back to the explosion.

It was the shock of the blast against his back as well as the sudden heat that was the worst part, only followed by the sudden intensity of being flung off the ship and into the sea. For some reason, that memory kept being replayed over and over again in his mind, never ceasing in its strength.