Fourth Vector Ch. 50

He looked back at the three women sheepishly. "I'd go wherever you commanded me to go, Your Majesties. But I have a feeling that the rest of the army wouldn't be very happy with me for exposing you to needless danger."

Abigail actually smiled. "Spoken like a true professional. No wonder Jack likes him so much."

Vera sighed. "Still doesn't make things any easier for us."

"No it doesn't, but at least we know our answer," said Kat. "We wait until morning."

No one was thrilled about that answer, and it only served to showcase the array of collective nerves over waiting. Vera was chewing on her nails, while Abigail's leg moved a mile a minute. Kat couldn't stop fidgeting in her seat, finding any thoughts of getting rest tonight extremely unlikely.

Finally, it was Vera that broke the silence.

"I miss home."

Abigail gave her a confused look. "Home as in... Kalmar?"

Vera nodded. "Yes. I'm really looking forward to going back home. I want us to find Jack, defeat Bancroft, settle our affairs here and then sail for home. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to spending all my time in the Castle once we get there."

Kat actually smiled at that. "You know, I remember a time when you told me you might never go back to Galicia. Long before we got started down this path, right around when we first met. Do you remember that?"

Vera actually managed to look back on the memory fondly. "I do remember that. Back when we were in Sorella for the first time, and I still didn't know what to do with my life. I found myself drawn to all of you but I didn't know why. It's funny how things have a way of working out, isn't it? Even though I didn't know the reason, I knew I wanted to be with you people. And look where we are now. You've managed to get me to admit that I'd rather be home in Galicia rather than anywhere else in the world."

"You know, it might surprise you both when I say that I feel the same as Vera," said Abigail, shifting in her seat. "I've come to enjoy my time in Kalmar and I truly look at the city as my home now. I know that Jack mentioned before that coming back to Java wasn't like a homecoming due to all that happened. I have the same feelings now. Even though my family is here in Java, my real family is with me now, and will be with me back in Kalmar."

Abigail said that whole statement without a hint of anxiety, especially considering Jack's current missing status. Kat managed to regard the statement with fondness, thinking about what it would be like to have their growing family back in the Castle.

To have all of them sitting together after the war would be a blessing, especially if they could just get through the ending.

"Hopefully someday soon, we'll be able to have that future that we all deserve," said Kat fondly. "I can say for certain that I've seen enough war to last the rest of my life. Not only these last few years, but the years before Jack arrived. I just want to raise my family in the quiet and peace of Kalmar. Nothing sounds better to me."

Vera let out a comfortable sigh. "Nothing sounds better to me either."

*****

For the rest of the day, the small convoy made its way in the direction of Corsham, with Jack the prisoner in the back of the truck bed. Clark was his company, alongside two of the other guards, while the third drove and Bancroft took the passenger seat.

Going through the Javan countryside was slow and tedious. Many of the small villages along the way were nearly mutinous with the news of the Javan defeat. Jack was even pleased to hear that one village in particular had raised an effigy of Bancroft and was currently burning it in protest of his defeat.

Needless to say, the group took a wide detour around that town to prevent any complications.

Bancroft didn't seem to understand yet that the war was lost. He kept holding out hope that everything would change once they reached Corsham.

"I'm the most favored son of Corsham," he boasted, not long after they passed the village with the effigy. "Everything will turn out well once we get there. We just need to keep moving."

Jack wondered if he was saying it for Clark's sake or for his own. Bancroft showed none of the signs of a mental breakdown so Jack suspected it was more for Clark than anything else. On the other hand, Clark was oddly quiet during most of the ride, not even indulging in any talking when Jack tried to get him to open up. He seemed stuck in his own head, which didn't make the trip go any faster.

By the time that it was getting dark, they were almost halfway to Corsham, with there being a good chance that they would reach the city by dusk tomorrow. Once again, a campsite was selected that was a distance from the roads and the lights on the truck were turned off to prevent anyone else from noticing their entry. At least Clark had the good sense to realize that they would be in danger having Bancroft in their ranks if discovered by ordinary Javans.

There was also no fire that night for the same reason. Instead, Bancroft dictated that they park not far from a running stream, where all the men (with the exception of Jack) were able to wash away some of the grime from the travels.

Despite the mood of the group faltering with recent events, Bancroft seemed to be one for talking. He waited until after he'd washed his feet in the stream before engaging Jack in what started as banal conversation.

"This is good ground," said Bancroft, splashing his feet in the stream. "Good soil and good water. This whole countryside is. Seeing it in this way, on the ground, gives me a new appreciation for the country at large. Too often I've allowed myself to be stuck in the palace around stuffy servants. This is the real Java out here."

When no one responded to that statement, Bancroft turned to look at Jack. "And to think, this land wasn't good enough for you, Jack. I'll never understand that. You're a Javan like the rest of us, and yet you chose to give your allegiance to some Fourthie cunt you've only met a few years ago. What drives a man to make that kind of decision?"

Jack wasn't going to fall for that kind of bait easily.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand my reasons for doing what I did."

Bancroft shook his head. "You're probably right about that. I wouldn't understand. You could have been on the top of the world and yet you threw it away. I can't understand a man who would willingly do that."

Jack only shook his head. He said nothing further, which only seemed to signal to Bancroft to keep pressing. Oddly enough, Clark was now watching the conversation with innate interest.

"You were always a little different than everyone else," continued Bancroft. "Maybe you really are a Fourthie after all. I remember what they used to say about you. The other students took one look at your blond head and they made jokes. But perhaps that explains everything, no? Maybe I should have paid closer attention to you all the way back then."

Bancroft made a small noise under his breath as he stamped his feet through the water. "I still remember those days. Back then when you were nothing more than a student and I was the teacher of several courses. You had a bright future in front of you, full of promise. I thought you might end up as superintendent of the Academy, or even in my old position as the head of the navy. But this? I never would have expected this."

For the first time, Jack allowed himself to indulge the old man. Mostly out of pity, since Jack got the impression that it was really loneliness that was driving this conversation. Despite the fact that Jack was his mortal enemy, he got the impression that Bancroft valued the conversation right now more than anything else.

"I don't think anyone would have predicted this future back then," said Jack under his breath. "Nor the wars that accompanied it."

Bancroft nodded like he couldn't agree more. "Yes, the wars. Without these blasted wars, things might not have gotten this bad. It's of no matter now though. We can't stop war any more than we can stop time."

Jack begged to differ with that last statement, especially as he thought about his sister, Jocelyn, but he ultimately kept silent.

"Sometimes I wonder what I would have been like as a peacetime ruler," continued Bancroft. "Quite often I think about it seeing as I inherited the conflict with Occitania and Ruthenia when I took the throne. Maybe things might have gone better if I had a real shot at peace? God knows my generals weren't worth a damn in this fight."

By that time, Jack realized that all Bancroft was trying to do was to rationalize the decisions he'd made as emperor. It was the act of a desperate and out-of-touch man whose failed leadership had thrust his country into calamity. Finally seeing the results for what they were, Bancroft was navigating the stages of loss one by one.

And if he thought that Jack was going to keep indulging him, he was mistaken.

"You've lost your mind, do you know that?" asked Jack, causing Bancroft to stop splashing his feet and for Clark to stare at Jack. "You usurped the empire when those wars were winding down. You had a real chance at peace until you decided to pick a fight with me for no other reason than your wounded pride. Don't muse about what might have been. The only one responsible for this sad state of affairs that you find yourself in right now is you."

Jack's words seemed to snap Bancroft out of his revelry. He glared at him while Jack only continued to speak.

"Why don't you just give it up? You've been reduced to nothing. You have four followers left, out of a country of twenty-one million people. Four followers. The game is up and you're only fooling yourself by continuing to run. There will be nowhere for you to go, and even if we make it to Corsham tomorrow, they'll shut their doors to you. They won't welcome you anywhere."

Bancroft sneered at him. "How little you actually know about the real state of affairs. You will see tomorrow what happens when we get to Corsham. Or rather, you will barely experience what will happen because I'm going to kill you in front of the whole city. Your death will whip them into a frenzy, and the arrival of Zander's army will be the strength that I need to turn the page in this war. Just wait and see."

Jack shook his head violently. "You have nothing. Nothing with which to threaten me. No one will continue to fight for you. I recognized it years ago when I refused you and I still see it as blatant today as it was back then. You've been reduced to only one loyal follower--Clark--and yet I have no idea why he continues to stand by your side."

Bancroft's head whipped over to Clark. "Clark knows what's good for him. He knows who guided his career all these years, who's nurtured him to get to this position that he's in. Isn't that right, Clark?"

Strangely enough, Clark didn't answer that statement. He merely stared back at Jack and Bancroft, continuing to watch the interaction.

"You take advantage of him," said Jack, gesturing to Clark. "You walk all over him and he still doesn't see it. How you treat that man is representative of how you've treated Java. You've tread all over him without a care in the world for what he's done for you."

Bancroft actually started to laugh. "And yet, here he is! Clark has been my loyal deputy for almost as long as you've been alive, Jack. Nothing will ever change that."

"You think so?" Jack challenged. "Maybe Clark has something he'd like to say to that."

Bancroft seemed to rise to the bait. At that moment, he took the sidearm that he'd been carrying and racked a round in the chamber. He turned the gun so that he was holding the barrel and extended his hand to Clark.

"Clark, I need you to teach Jack a lesson he won't soon forget," said a very confident Bancroft. "There's a live round in that gun right now. Now, if Jack's argument has any merit whatsoever, and I've been completely mistreating you over the years, I want you to shoot me right here and now. Shoot me and get this over with you, will you?"

Silence reigned in the moments after Bancroft made the request. Jack actually found that he was holding his breath, wondering what Clark would do. It didn't take much to realize that Clark was the beaten wife of the relationship between him and Bancroft. Now was his time to finally achieve retribution for all that he'd suffered over the years.

Jack found himself muttering under his breath for Clark to pull the trigger. All of this could be over if Clark just found the strength to do what was necessary.

And yet, Clark actually fiddled with the gun. He looked at Bancroft and then Jack and then back to Bancroft. His hand didn't shake but it seemed far from steady. Finally, he handed the gun back to Bancroft.

Bancroft crowed with triumph. "Do you see, Jack? You have a profound misunderstanding of the relationship between Clark and I. He is my deputy above all else, and he is loyal to a fault. Though he has his flaws, I value loyalty above everything else in life. And Clark is nothing if not loyal."

With those final words, Bancroft removed the round from the chamber and put his sidearm back in the holster. Jack looked over at Clark, searching his eyes for anything to explain to him why he didn't take his chance.

Surprisingly, Clark looked almost apologetic, but that couldn't be right. Why would he look that way when he had the chance to just change everything?

Still high on his moral victory, Bancroft put his boots back on and stood up on the bank of the stream. "Tomorrow evening, we'll be in Corsham. Tomorrow will also be the day that you die, Jack. And your death will see the rebirth of my fortunes here in Java. I'll be using your death to make a statement, just like I did with your sister."

As soon as he mentioned Jocelyn, Jack pushed off the ground in a rage to tackle the mad emperor. Unfortunately for him, one of the guardsmen anticipated the movement and slammed Jack back to the ground. Jack punched the man twice before he felt the cold metal of his pistol slam against his cheek.

"Enough, enough!" yelled Bancroft to the guardsmen. "If his face keeps getting marred like that, no one will be able to tell who he is. Lock him up against that tree for the night!"

The other two guardsmen pulled Jack off the ground before making sure he was secured against the base of the tree. Combined with the cuffs, his range of movement was quite limited and about all he could do was lean back against the trunk. One of the guardsmen stayed with him the entire night, while the other two attended to Bancroft and Clark.

And yet, Jack couldn't figure out a way out of his predicament. Bancroft wasn't going to surrender on his own accord and Clark was too brow beaten to ever mount a resistance of his own.

Just how could he turn this situation around while staying alive?

*****

As Bancroft walked back to the truck alongside Clark, he couldn't help but grin. He enjoyed riling up Jack, especially now that he was just a day away from getting exactly what he wanted--the death of his longtime enemy. He also liked seeing Clark's display of total loyalty, foiling any chance that Jack might have had in trying to turn Clark against him.

And yet still, something was nagging him. Something that he couldn't help but bring up to Clark once they were alone.

"Why did it take you so long to hand the pistol back to me?" asked Bancroft, shooting a sideways glance at Clark.

"Hmm?" asked Clark, obviously caught in the middle of another line of thought.

"When I asked you to shoot me if I did anything wrong, you hesitated," said Bancroft. "For just a hair longer than I thought you would. Why? Is there something you need to tell me?"

Clark looked over at him with lifeless eyes. Bancroft almost expected the man to start to sweat but he still appeared as cool as could be.

"I figured it would look better if we put on a show for him," said Clark, turning his attention away from Bancroft.

Bancroft actually chuckled. "Well, that's a better answer than I expected I'd get. You still have some cleverness in you after all, don't you?" Bancroft jabbed his elbow into the other man's side.

Clark said nothing further, not even in acknowledgment of the backhanded compliment.

"Very well," replied Bancroft after a moment of silence. "Get some sleep tonight, Clark. Tomorrow will see the resurgence of our fortunes, I can promise you that. We'll need all the energy we can get."

With those words, Bancroft climbed into the back of the truck bed and prepared for sleep while the two remaining guardsmen took up positions. Clark climbed into the front seat of the truck, taking the awkward and upright sleeping position that was available to him, but was still better than sleeping on the ground.

Before Bancroft could fall asleep, he thought about what would happen when they entered Corsham in the morning. He pictured a joyous population that was ready to support their emperor and start the comeback against all his enemies. It gave him shivers to think about once again starting a bid for total power in his own hometown, but then again, why couldn't history repeat itself?

Why couldn't he get a second chance at total power?

*****

Jack spent a largely miserable night against the trunk of the tree. For one, the bark kept digging into his back and making it impossible to stay comfortable enough to sleep but for two, the air was crisp that night and he largely shivered for most of his time.

By the time that the sun was up, he was ready to keep moving. Not that he wanted to go anywhere near Corsham with Bancroft but because it beat being tied to a tree while shivering.

Once everyone was up, Bancroft, Clark, and the other guards came down to the stream to get something to drink as well as eat a meager breakfast when Jack noticed that something didn't seem quite right to him.

He turned to look in every direction, wondering why it seemed quieter than usual. He couldn't see anyone beyond his little group but there was something in the air--a feeling that not everything was right.

He figured out what it was when he heard the first sounds of gunfire. Suddenly, the guard that was closest to Jack by the tree fell down, an entry wound visible right in the middle of his back.

"We're under attack!" yelled Clark as gunfire started to be exchanged.

At that moment, Jack saw signs of rifles poking out from the nearby tree line. On the other side of the stream, another group of rifles soon emerged, hitting the camp from two positions.

What happened next was the biggest clusterfuck of a fight that developed in Jack's recent memory. He remained tied to the tree, unable to seek cover while bullets flew all around him. The guard that had died that was closest to him had the key to release his cuffs but Jack still couldn't reach him. He was just too many feet away.

As for the others, Bancroft and one of the guards took shelter behind a low-rising mound not far from the stream, where they were able to fire off against the group across the stream. Clark and the last guard were facing in the opposite direction, using tree cover to fire off against those still in the woods.

"Goddamnit, kill them all!" raged Bancroft as he shot his pistol at the group of attackers across the stream. "Who dares to fire on my position?!"

That was a great question. At first, it was hard for Jack to tell who was attacking them. He thought it could be rogue Javan soldiers who simply saw them as an easy target, someone who might have food that they could steal. Yet, as the rifles closed in around their position, it wasn't hard to recognize the sound that they made.

The rifle that was being fired was the Bornmount V2--a strictly Galician design.

The Western Army had caught up to them.

As Bancroft screamed instructions to his guards, Jack tried to keep flat against the tree to prevent himself from becoming an unwitting target. He was desperate to join in the fight yet he could do nothing in his current position.