For once, Admiral Bancroft was in a fine mood. It was still early enough in the morning that not many people were out in the Javan capital city of Belfort. The shuffle of his boots against the pavement was one of the only sounds as he strolled along the quiet streets on his way to the Admiralty. Checking in like he usually did, he made his way to his office and closed the door behind him.

Despite it being early, there was already a small stack of notices on his desk ready for his inspection. He had come to expect it over the years, as there never really was a boring or quiet moment when you commanded a navy of over several hundred ships, especially during wartime.

He flipped his way through several of the messages, determining which ones were simply giving him advanced notice of orders or operations and those that would require a more formal response.

As he continued to flip, he came across a series of orders that came from the emperor, and that was when he started to find his anger rising. Most of them had to do with the troop movements throughout Java on the rail network. While the messages had absolutely nothing to do with naval affairs, Charles IX still found the need to deposit them on his desk, a not-so-subtle reminder of their previous conversation over a week ago.

Bancroft gritted his teeth as he remembered the encounter, the emperor having countermanded his orders to requisition the country's rail network for moving raw materials for his ships. It was a pivotal moment in their relationship. Before that day, Bancroft had been nothing but subservient to the emperor's wishes, no matter how much he disagreed with their intent. The war had a way of pushing that limit, and realizing what a weak ruler Charles actually was, Bancroft decided to push back against him to see how far he could go.

Yet even Charles had a limit and Bancroft found it last week. Even still, he had a war to win, and he couldn't let the emperor's shortsighted orders cause them to lose control over a conflict that had been a long time coming. No, if anything, the encounter with the emperor showed him he would need to be more creative with getting his own way, even when it directly contradicted the emperor's own orders.

The current order in his hand, a message from Charles about timetables for sending an entire division across the continent to the staging area on the north coast of Java, was particularly detailed and orderly. Bancroft could tell it hadn't come from Charles' actual hand, obviously written up by one of his generals for the punctuality it required. However, the more that Bancroft read of the order, the more time it gave for an idea to form. A smile soon formed on his face as he grabbed a typewriter.

Bancroft opened one of his drawers to rummage through it while looking for one item in particular. He chuckled when he found it, a separate box of the emperor's stationary, exclusively used for giving orders at the highest levels. Bancroft only had the stationary because he, as the highest naval officer in the country, was authorized to issue orders in the emperor's name and bearing his signature. Yet, it was something that had to come from the emperor first, although that little fact wasn't going to stop him this time.

Bancroft carefully replicated the first part of the emperor's order and then added a second, completely new addendum to the orders. Grinning to himself once he had the finished product in his hands, he placed it in the outgoing pile so that it could get out to the rail operators as soon as possible. It was his ticket to getting what he needed, even if it meant directly disobeying the emperor. This was even a step further than that. It was direct insubordination, a move that may remove his head from his shoulders. Yet, it was the only way to get what he wanted, what he needed to win the war.

Sometime later, his deputy Rear Admiral Clark came into the office, clutching an order and looking greatly confused.

"Admiral Bancroft, may I have a moment?" he asked as soon as the door was closed.

Bancroft smiled. "Of course, Clark. What's on your mind?"

Clark raised the first of two orders in his hand. "This is particularly confusing to me, sir. This order seems to contradict itself."

Bancroft decided to play along. "In what manner, Clark?"

"Well, the first paragraph dictates a transport schedule for an army division, but the second paragraph explicitly states to transfer several containers of steel before the division is to be moved." Clark then looked up at Bancroft. "I thought the emperor wanted to move the troops first?"

"He did," said Bancroft with a conspiring grin.

Clark raised an eyebrow. "Did this order come from the emperor?"

"Why Clark, I can't fathom what you're suggesting," said Bancroft. "Are you suggesting I forged an order on behalf of our emperor? Surely you'd know that doing such a thing is a death sentence in our country?"

Clark didn't seem to be so easily fooled, a credit to the man's intelligence. "Which is why this order is particularly perplexing. If I had to guess, only the first part of this came from the palace."

"Very good, Clark. This is why you're still my deputy after all these years. Your intelligence is second to none."

"This is a dangerous game you're playing, sir. If the emperor gets word of this—"

"He won't," interrupted Bancroft. "Charles pays little attention to orders after they've been issued. Besides, even if he does question the late arrival of the troops, there are plenty of reasons why that I can offer him. As long as he believes he's the one fully in charge, we can still get what we need while he is none the wiser."

"It still seems a bit risky," said Clark. "You're essentially gambling with our lives."

"Not our lives," said Bancroft. "Just mine. You are just my deputy, Clark, and you knew nothing about my modifications to a few certain orders. If anyone's head will roll for this, it will be mine exclusively."

"A few certain orders?" repeated Clark. "Is that where this second one came into play?" Clark then read the part of the order that concerned him. "This order formally activates the 189th, 190th, and 191st marine regiments. Each regiment is to swear fealty to the Chief of the Imperial Javan Navy, Fleet Admiral Percival Bancroft before being considered active for duty."

Bancroft shrugged simply. "I thought since they were marines under the navy's jurisdiction, they should be taking their oaths directly to me, not the emperor."

"This one is especially damning," said Clark. "This one will get you killed someday."

"Clark, you need to have a little more faith in me. You don't get to be the chief of the entire fucking navy without having a few skeletons in your closest. Besides, we are at war. I'll do whatever is necessary to keep Java safe and prevent the country from being attacked."

"How does that relate to whom the marines swear loyalty to?"

"Details that make no difference in the long run," said Bancroft dismissively. "The difference is that Javans take their oaths seriously. There may come a time when we need to attack rather than wait, or defend instead of attack. I trust my judgment, someone who had spent their life training for military matters, over that of the emperor's any day."

"You know, if anyone else saw this order, they might accuse you of trying to create your own private army," said Clark warily.

Bancroft scoffed. "You know me better than that. What use would I have for my own army? I just need men who will follow my command, especially when I need them to follow orders that may seem a bit . . . contradictory to that of the emperor's."

"You're playing a dangerous game, sir."

"Unfortunately, that is the game that all of us play with imperial politics, Clark," said Bancroft with a heavy sigh. "It's not possible to survive at this level without playing the game and it always has its inherent dangers."

"It makes me uneasy."

"That's why you should leave this kind of thing to me, Clark," said Bancroft. "The more in the dark you are about this, the less you'll have to lie about it should anyone come asking questions."

"That is something we both can agree on, sir. Just be careful and please don't be so reckless with your own life. There are many of us that believe you are the only person who can win this war."

Bancroft smiled. "Now you see why I'm doing it in the first place."

"You know, it's funny that—"

Before Clark could finish his sentence, Bancroft heard what sounded like a low whistle start from a far-off place and then continue to get louder. By the sudden turn of Clark's head, he heard it too, and the two men waited for several tense moments to find out the source of the whistle.

BOOM.

They didn't have to wait long before jumping out of their chairs at the sound of the explosion. Bancroft ran to the window of his office that looked out over the bay of the capital city, his face turning to confusion as he saw naval vessels just off the coast that he didn't recognize.

Clark saw it too. His eyes went wide in terror at seeing the foreign warships especially as another volley soon rushed forward from the nearest ship, its fireball arching up over the bay and landing with a tremendous explosion over the city.

"Where the fuck did those Occitanian ships come from?" yelled Bancroft as he dashed to the radio to begin issuing a series of orders. To have enemy warships off the coast of the capital was a disaster of the worst proportions, and he soon realized that this raid was the retaliation for his own strike against the Occitanian capital weeks ago.

Around them, the ground shook heavily as another incoming blast hit closer than the others, Bancroft watching as a stone building just across from the Admiralty took a direct hit, practically bursting apart in a shower of rocks, mortar, and glass.

"Sir, we need to get out of here!" yelled Clark as he rushed to grab Bancroft's hand.

"Not yet, we need to get orders to—"

Bancroft never finished the sentence. In that next moment, the Admiralty building took a direct hit. Bancroft watched in near horror as the room around them started to collapse, the mixture of brick and wood falling all around them and soon burying their bodies beneath the rubble.

Bancroft closed his eyes in pain as a heavy crossbeam fell across his back and soon his world turned black.

*****

"Damned fog," swore Luke as he looked out from the bridge on the Valiant. "I swear this is the third foggy morning since we got back to Quiller's Cove. Is it never going to let up?"

Kim started to laugh. "Maybe around midmorning, but it appears we should just get used to it with these early morning patrols."

Luke growled for a moment before returning his attention back to the horizon, at least the part of the horizon that he could see. Visibility was currently terrible and limited to about a mile out from the ship in current conditions. They had been part of the patrol task force for three days now, the force assembled under Rear Admiral Reynolds that sought to protect the territorial waters around the Javan base.

So far, nothing had been sighted but it wasn't for a lack of trying. The four heavy cruisers under Reynolds' immediate control had struck a course northwest from the base, trying to rendezvous near the last recorded sighting of the Occitanian task force. With them were four additional light cruisers, of which the Valiant was one, as well as a force of eleven destroyers. While having no battleships of their own, they did outnumber the Occies in terms of cruisers and destroyers, so that was one thing they had going for them on their search of the enemy fleet.

The other thing was surprise. From the very first briefing given by Admiral Reynolds, it was assumed that the Occies wouldn't expect them to sortie from the base due to a lack of strength. They were also unlikely to know that reinforcements had arrived, and thus the Javans were now up to a decent enough strength to entertain thoughts of engaging the enemy in battle. For that reason, they were now out for the majority of the day searching for the Occie fleet.

"We're never going to find anything in this fog," said Luke angrily. "We could be almost on top of the entire damn fleet and we'd have no idea."

"At least we're somewhat spread out," said Kim. "Far enough away to cover a wide stretch of ocean but close enough to support each other should we find them."

"There is that though," said Luke. "I just wish I could see what was right in front of me."

The radio at his waist was exceptionally chatty today, as many of the commanders checked in with the Admiral to report their findings throughout the morning. It was one thing Luke hated to do, mostly because of the risk of interception. Even though the Occitanians were unlikely to find their radio channel or decipher their codes, it still could potentially alert them to their close presence. For that reason, Luke kept radio chatter to an absolute minimum.

The other commanders weren't nearly as cautious, and Luke listened as a variety of them reported their sections being empty during most of the morning. However, the Valiant represented the extreme left flank of their battle line, and for that reason alone, Luke wanted to be extra vigilant since he would have less protection than anyone else should they stumble across the fleet.

As Luke listened to Reynolds' order to the task force to execute a turn to the west, he looked over to Kim. "I think we have to be getting close to them."

Kim looked at him with confusion. "Why do you say that?"

He pulled out his map of the local area. "We're searching this area right here," he said while pointing out a section to the northwest of the base. "The last reported sighting was all the way over here to the northeast of the base. We're only searching our present location because we estimate they kept moving from their last position and would now be over here. However, if they were only looking to cause us trouble, they may be positioning themselves right here to pounce."

"That is if they haven't continued on toward the Vector," said Kim.

Luke shook his head. "Something tells me that they won't go to the Vector without delivering a blow to Quiller's Cove. It's the smart thing to do. Destroying or disabling our main base out here would seriously hamper any missions we have going on in the Vector. I just don't think they'll bypass the base to strike at Jack."

"Which means we're likely to be right on top of them if you're right," whispered Kim.

"And at the end of the flank, we'd be most vulnerable," added Luke. "I feel like this is the sector we need to be in."

Kim looked over to him and smiled. "Let's see if you're right."

It was only about a half hour later that a sighting was called in from one of the forward lookouts. Luke pressed his binoculars against his face as he tried to make out the fog-enshrouded object directly to his northwest.

"Maybe it's a small island. That's not unusual in this part of the world," said Anna.

"Or it just as easily could be the Occie fleet," added Bill.

"It could be the damn emperor in his pleasure yacht for all we know," said Luke sourly. "Anna, speed us up a few knots. I want to figure out what the hell that is."

"You got it, Luke," said Anna as she radioed the order down to the boilers.

"We should tell the admiral as well," said Kim by his side. "Just in case it's something interesting."

"I don't want to be the guy that radios the discovery of a small, uninhabited island to the entire task force," said Luke. "Wait until we get closer a little more. We're close enough to the Stardust that they can offer support if we need it."

The ship soon pushed forward with more speed, bringing it closer to the dark outline on the horizon. Soon the outline began to take more shape, and directly to the one side of the shape, a trail of water began to form, taking the shape of a wake left behind by a moving ship.

"Luke, that really looks like a wake. That's got to be another ship," said Kim while looking out the window.

Luke swallowed hard. "Bill, I want you to get the gun crews ready and get your sights on that object. I don't care what it is but the only other thing out here that could possibly be moving is an Occie ship."

"Aye, sir, we'll get the guns on it shortly," said Bill while issuing a series of commands. As their six-inch guns began to rotate to fix on the spot on the horizon, Luke began to make out part of the hull emerging from the mist. Above the hull flew a flag that he could just make out from his spot on the bridge. An Occitanian flag.

"Admiral Reynolds, come in. This is Lt. Commander Ravencross on the Valiant. We have the enemy in sight at the following position," said Luke, reading off a series of coordinates to the commander. "We're moving in to engage."

"Good spotting, Ravencross," came the radio back from Reynolds. "All commanders, finish executing your turn to those coordinates. The enemy is near, I repeat, the enemy is near!"

Luke then turned to look at the weapons command station. "Bill, how long until we can fire our first shot?"

"About thirty seconds, give or take! Give me a moment and we can get off our first salvo!"

"Let's make it count. We're so close to those bastards that we have a serious shot! Get all the men to battle-stations immediately!"

The great alarm system began to ring all throughout the ship. Down below deck, men and women began to rush about the light cruiser preparing to engage. It was a tense thirty seconds as Luke waited for the guns to be ready. As if by some luck of fortune, the Occitanian vessel hadn't spotted them through the fog yet, meaning they might be able to get off a couple volleys before the Occies could answer in kind. They just might be able to cripple the ship before they even knew Luke was there.

As soon as the forward turrets were locked on, Bill gave the signal. "Ready to fire, Luke!"

"Good, let's give them a wake-up call. Fire," ordered Luke.

With a mighty roar, the four working turrets of the ship blasted off a mighty salvo that broke the still morning air. With a flash and an explosion, one of those shots caught the Occitanian vessel near the aft, not far from the stern. A colossal plume of thick, dark smoke went into the air at the blow, while the rest of the ordnance largely missed the target.

"Tell the gunners to readjust the turrets," yelled Luke back to Bill. "We're all over the map with the shots that didn't hit!"

"Will do, Luke. We'll get them with this next salvo."

"Luke, it looks like we don't have the element of surprise any longer," said Kim while tugging at his shoulder. "Look!"

Luke looked out at the Occitanian ship as she started to turn to the south, offering up the rest of the ship to his guns. But it also put them in better range for Luke to offer a traditional broadside to them. He watched as their turrets soon swung into place, fixing on his own ship as they started to sail parallel to them. Luke could tell by the similar size of the ship that it looked to be another cruiser. In that moment, he was thankful he didn't have to tangle with a battleship with only his light cruiser.

"They're preparing to fire, Bill. How soon will those guns be ready?"

"Eight seconds, Luke!"

He counted down the eight seconds in his mentally, hoping they'd be able to get off the salvo before the Occitanians were prepared to offer their first. Once he reached zero, he yelled back at Bill to get the shot off.

The turrets roared again as another deadly volley raced toward the Occitanian vessel. Luke watched and cheered internally as several more shots connected, one seemingly blowing up the vessel's rear turrets and causing another loud explosion, the fireball soon racing up into the air. The superstructure of the warship absorbed another shot, causing a small plume of smoke and a much smaller explosion.

"We got them, Luke!" exclaimed Kim, looking jubilant as several dark trails of smoke soon erupted from the wounded cruiser.

They didn't have long to celebrate their victory. The forward turrets of the enemy cruiser were still unharmed, and they were able to get off their own volley soon enough. Some of the ordnance struck a glancing blow at the bow of the Valiant however it was as close as they were able to get. Luke looked down to the bow to see some slight damage but nothing that couldn't be fixed quickly. They were lucky, as if that shot were any lower, it would have punched a hole directly against their hull.

At this point in the battle, they were directly parallel with the Occitanian vessel, but Luke noticed that the enemy warship had sped up, quickly rushing for the safety of a nearby fog belt that was heavy and thick in size. If they were able to disappear in that fog, Luke might never find them, even if they were only a quarter of a mile away. It became imperative that they get off another round before they disappeared into the fog bank.

"Bill, how long?" called out Luke.

"Another thirty seconds, Luke."

They only had about another minute or possibly two before it disappeared into the fog bank. What was worse was that the smoke from all the damage was starting to obscure parts of the ship as well. While it still marked where it was, it became harder to tell where the ship's exact location was.

"Ready now, Luke!" said Bill after an agonizingly long thirty seconds.

"Fire now, Bill!"

The shots from this volley completely missed as the distance between the ships started to increase once again. Watching the deck of the Occitanian vessel, Luke could see their men rush about trying to extinguish the flames that raged from their last major salvo. Soon enough, the heavy smoke that billowed from the stern of the ship started to lessen, only to soon be completely put out.

The enemy ship got off one more volley before the angle of their turn into the fog bank made firing from their forward turrets all but impossible. Even after Luke gave the order to turn the ship to engage one more time, the Occie warship soon disappeared behind the thick mist.

Just as it was disappearing, Luke heard a mighty roar from another nearby vessel as the Stardust emerged from off its flank, its huge ten-inch guns trying to stop the Occitanian ship. Unfortunately, its guns largely missed the mark too, although not for lack of trying.

"Lt Commander Ravencross, are you able to further engage the enemy warship?" came the radio command from Admiral Reynolds.

Luke grabbed the radio. "I don't think so, sir. That fog bank is pretty thick, and visibility is terrible. We'll follow it inside, but I doubt we'll be able to see much."

"Please chase as far as you can. We'll be right on your flank," said Admiral Reynolds. "If the visibility is as expected, go ahead and disengage and wait for further orders."

"Aye, sir," said Luke before turning to the rest of his officers. "Anna, take us into that fog bank. Bill, make sure the guns are ready just in case."

It was another ten minutes before the Valiant was able to turn around and enter the same bank that the Occitanian ship just slipped through. Just as expected, they could barely make out anything once inside. Luke could barely make out the bow of his own ship in such a thick fog. As soon as he realized how bad it was, he radioed back to Reynolds.

"Visibility is too low, Admiral Reynolds. I'm afraid we could possibly ram them in these conditions."

"Disengage from the enemy then, Ravencross," came the reply from Reynolds. "How is your ship? Any casualties?"

"None, sir, and only light damage. The Valiant put up a hell of a good showing."

"You can say that again, Ravencross. We saw the smoke billowing from that enemy ship. Well done to you and your crew. You caused significant damage."

"What are we to do now, sir?"

"I think you've just found the rearguard of the Occitanian task force, Ravencross. We'll continue in that direction once the weather permits. What course did you last see the ship going?"

"Due west, Admiral," said Luke. "Due west." Straight toward the Vector.

The Occitanian force was on a course to find Jack.

*****

As darkness descended on the plateau, Jack gathered Greg, Abigail, Vera, and one of the captains of the marine company for a council of war. It had been several hours since the attack by the Andalucians and even now, Jack could look out from the plateau and see the signs of fire from the two clans that had attacked him earlier. Both of them were not far from their original positions, necessitating a more robust watch for the evening in case they thought of attacking again.

"Do you think they would consider an attack at night?" asked Vera warily. "Are we going to be on our guard all evening?"

Greg shook his head. "I rather doubt that, Vera. It would be awfully hard for them to shoot those bows in the darkness and know what they were hitting. They'd have to get close enough to us to use their melee weapons and that would be suicidal against our rifles. I think they'll wait until the morning."

"That doesn't mean we should let our guard down though," said Jack. "Even with our advantage in firepower, they still thought to press forward a reckless attack against us in the daytime. We shouldn't assume they'll act logically."

"Great," mumbled Vera. "Just when I was hoping to get some sleep tonight."

"What about our reinforcements?" asked Abigail. "The other platoons? Do we know where they are?"

Greg nodded. "Captain Bucknell radioed me not too long ago. They have landed on the coast and they are marching inland. The only thing we don't know is if they'll find their path blocked by the Muthada."

"And if they do? What then?"

Greg shrugged. "They'll find their way through one way or another."

"Or we'll attack down to open a path to them," added Jack. "We may even have an opportunity to attack the Muthada separately. It just depends on how fast Captain Bucknell gets here."

"It didn't take us long to get to this part of the country," said Abigail. "Probably tomorrow then?"

"I'd say late afternoon as long as they aren't held up," said Greg. "Possibly earlier if they are able to march quickly."

"What's our end goal for all of this then?" asked a quiet Captain Reynolds, the marine commander of the company of platoons currently with them. "Even if we can destroy the Muthada, we still have the Numratha in front of us. And they seem much more numerous."

"I had hoped to do this without shedding blood," said Jack quietly. "But we may need to keep attacking, especially if they have a blood alliance. If Kat is being held by their clan chief, then it's obvious what we need to do. We need to find him and kill him. Killing him should let us rescue Kat and end the blood alliance so we can get out of this country in one piece."

"Any idea of how we can do that in our current position?" asked Vera. "Are we to keep shooting until we kill them all?"

Jack flinched at her suggestion. "I hope it doesn't come to that. Ideally, we'll just need to keep our options open. If there's a way we can rescue Kat without having to resort to battle to do it, I'll take that option. Once she's back with us, there's no reason for us to stay in this country. I couldn't care less if these clan chiefs want to attack us by the time we get back out to sea. I just want us to get who we came for and then get going."

"And then we can get back on our way," said Abigail. "Onward to Picardy, right?"

"Right," said Jack before looking out past the plateau and nodding toward the closest camp of Andalucians. "Just need to get past all of those bastards first."

"Let them come in the morning," said Greg. "Or overnight. Either way, we'll show them why Javan marines are some of the fiercest warriors in the entire world."

"What about our wounded though? We have five men still alive and barely enough facilities to take care of them," said Captain Reynolds. "What we really need to do is get them back to the infirmary on the Destiny."

Jack started to nod. "There may be more of them by tomorrow. What we need to do is connect with the reinforcements and get the Muthada out of our path. Once the road is clear all the way back to the coast, we can more easily move our wounded men back to the ship."

"So are we to stay put then?" asked Abigail. "Wait for the reinforcements to join us and then we can continue on?"

"For now, that's the plan," said Jack. "We'll look again at the situation in the morning, depending on what the Andalucians plan to do. If they press forward an attack, we'll have no choice. However, if they decide to back off, we'll have another council to decide where to go from here."

"So many variables," said Abigail. "I hate not knowing what our next move is."

"That's simple, Abigail," said Greg with a small smirk. "We kill anyone in our way and rescue Kat, then get the hell out of here."

She pursed her lips. "You know what I mean. We may find the entire situation changed in a few short hours."

Jack started to nod as he reached out to grab her hand. Squeezing gently, he said to her quietly, "I know. We'll figure something out soon enough. I promise."

She nodded her head and the group went quiet for a certain time until a commotion near the front of the plateau started to attract notice. Jack peeked his head up to see one of the marines starting a quick jog over to their area.

The marine stopped in front of him and Greg. "We have an Andalucian envoy up at the front lines, requesting permission to speak with our commander."

"An envoy?" asked Jack. "How did he show up?"

"He approached our lines with his hands up and was completely unarmed. Crazy bastard did it in the darkness too, so we almost shot him. Once we saw he didn't have any weapons, we let him get close enough to start talking," said the marine. "That's when he asked to speak with you. He says he has a message from the clan chief of the Numratha, Yusef."

"All right, let's see what he wants then," said Jack. "Come with me all of you. I want everyone to hear what he has to say so that we can discuss it afterwards."

The group moved forward with the marine back to the front lines. On the approach, Jack could see an Andalucian man under gunpoint right outside their perimeter. His hands were still raised, and he was clothed in the typical heavy material of the country, even though now his face was completely exposed since it was after dark. The features on his face were without expression, and Jack had to wonder if perhaps this might be a trick.

"State your name and purpose," said Jack as soon as he was close enough to the envoy.

"I will only speak with Jack Easterbrook," said the man. "It is to him that this message is intended for."

Jack spread out his arms. "You found him. Now answer my question."

The man bowed his head slightly and lowered his arms. "My name is Amnon, and I'm a special envoy sent to your people from our mighty clan chief, Yusef, leader of the Numratha. I come bearing tidings of bad news for your people."

Jack shot a glance at Greg before looking back at the man. "And this bad news of yours is what?"

Amnon joined his arms together and then spread them out. "You are surrounded, Jack Easterbrook. Your incursion into our country hasn't gone unnoticed. This afternoon, you felt but a taste of Andalucian fury as the fierce warriors of the Numratha clan, joined by their steadfast allies, the Muthada, sought to give you a lesson in power politics on this island."

"I think it was we that showed you the lesson," said Jack. "Judging by the body count."

Amnon shrugged. "We can afford to lose men. There are plenty more where they come from. How many men do you have, Jack Easterbrook? Two hundred? Less? How long do you think you can withstand the might of Andalucia?"

"Hardly the might of the entire island," said Jack. "Even if you do surround us, you are but two clans. Attack us again if you wish and we'll show you another lesson in firepower."

Amnon began to laugh. "But we are not only two clans. As we speak, two more clans march this way to join the fight, spurred on by blood alliances and vengeance for our homeland, which is under attack by your foreign soldiers. By tomorrow evening, you will be surrounded by seven clans in total."

Jack remained quiet as his mind processed the total numbers. They could withstand another attack by two clans but what of four? How about seven? Could they do it without further reinforcements? The situation was starting to look dire. What had started as a simple rescue mission was now turning into a full-blown war.

"You have but one option, Jack Easterbrook," continued Amnon. "Surrender your forces to us. In doing so, you can keep your lives. You will become slaves for the Andalucian peoples."

"Hardly an option there," said Jack. "Who would choose servitude to the likes of you?"

"Servitude is still better than death," said Amnon with a simple shrug. "You may have lost your personal liberty but at least you'll have your lives. Our way of life is not so bad. In time, you may even adjust to being a slave. If you live, that is."

"I think we'll take our chances here," said Jack. "Tell your clan chief that he faces a force with stiff resolve that won't so easily surrender a fight for no purpose."

"If you won't surrender, then you will all be killed. There will be no mercy for anyone taken alive. We will riddle your bodies with arrows until you die screaming for leniency. For you, it will either be slavery or death."

Jack raised his chin with pride. "I think we know what decision we'll all pick."

"It is your choice then. Don't expect us to offer you clemency again," said Amnon. He raised his hands once more and then turned around, walking in the direction he came from. As soon as he had disappeared into the night, Greg turned to look at Jack.

"Well, he was a real treat. But I guess that answers that question though," said the marine.

Jack glanced over at him. "What question is that?"

"It looks like we'll have to kill them all."

*****

Sleep didn't come easy that night for the Javans on the plateau. Despite a robust guard being kept not only at the two entrances to the mountain but also along the sheer face of the edge, Jack had a hard time staying asleep. The words of the envoy kept bouncing around in his mind. They had just barely kept from being overwhelmed by the two clans earlier that day. If they would soon face seven, what were their chances of not only rescuing Kat but getting out of the country in one piece? More importantly, what would they face in the morning? Was the envoy being truthful about the numbers or was he just trying to frighten them from pursuing their course even further?

Jack finally pushed off from the ground at dawn, having slept little. Near him was Abigail, close enough to offer comfort but far enough away to not be blatant about their relationship with the other men. She was already awake as well and he could tell by the look on her face that his worries were shared.

"You too?" she asked as she saw him yawn and stretch.

"Barely slept a wink," said Jack quietly.

"Same here. I already miss my comfy bed on the Destiny."

Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I'll get you back to your ship. I promise you."

She started to nod. "I know you will. You've never let me down before." With those last words, she reached up to kiss him gently.

Jack took a step back and looked around at the other men. "What if someone else saw that?"

Abigail shrugged her shoulders as a small smile filled her lips. "So what?"

"What about not wanting the men to know about us?"

"We're stuck in a hostile country and surrounded by enemy soldiers. Keeping our relationship secret is the last thing on my mind right now," she said with total honesty.

He nodded and stepped back closer to her. "I've really been missing our privacy since we came ashore."

"You and me both." Abigail gave him a subtle wink. "Maybe once we do get out of here, if we do, let's lock ourselves in your quarters for a whole day."

Jack started to chuckle. "We'll do that. And we will get out of here."

She nodded and squeezed his hand, and that was the last thing said about it for the time being.

However, his promise wasn't looking so great when Greg found him a short while later wearing a worried expression. "The reinforcement platoons under Captain Bucknell have been stopped in their tracks by the Muthada. There was a short exchange of fire but right now both groups are standing off in front of each other and not moving."

"Any casualties on our side?" asked Jack.

Greg shook his head. "One marine took a grazing wound but that's it. They're asking for orders on whether to press forward an attack."

"Can they double back around the Muthada and get to us without arousing their suspicion?"

"That was the first thing I asked," said Greg. "The terrain away from the coast is treacherous. Captain Bucknell is afraid that if they start going along another path, it will add a number of days to the time it'll take to reach us. Besides, he said it looks like hundreds of warriors are directly in front of them."

"Hundreds? The Muthada couldn't have that much more. We killed almost half of them yesterday!"

Greg pointed out over the ledge. "It looks like that envoy wasn't joking, Jack. There's two more camps this morning."

"Shit," Jack swore before looking back out across the plateau. It was still early enough that the sun hadn't fully risen, and from his position, he could see the light of hundreds of fires, evidence of the camps of four clans now spread out around them in every direction.

"Four clans will be here by morning," repeated Jack. "And seven by evening."

"We need to figure out something fast," said Greg. "If they attack us with that full might, they may overwhelm us even with the rifles. We've seen yesterday they are ready to throw away lives just to prove a point. If we start facing thousands of warriors, we won't last long."

Jack nodded and turned to look back to the direction of the coast. If those reinforcements were blocked off from reaching them, they would have to get creative on finding a way to link up. A way that would prevent them from being picked off in detail by the enemy. He just needed to figure out how to do it before the enemy attacked with everything they had.

As if sensing the dilemma that the Javans faced, the sounds of Andalucian war drums started to beat all around them. It was the same sound they heard in Methusa only this time it was much louder. Jack looked around at the four major groupings of clans and found their men starting to line up for battle.

"Jack," said Greg before pointing toward the nearest group. "They're coming."

*****

A few miles away in the slave pens of the Numratha clan, Kat heard the beating of the war drums and watched as the Andalucian warriors quickly assembled for their next attack. Hearing the echo of the drums all across the mountains from their current position confirmed her suspicion—there were other clans gathering for this attack. But to attack whom?

Things had been in flux in the Numratha camp for days, unexplainable things that had Kat questioning the current behavior of the clan. Andalucian camps rarely picked up and moved at short notice and this kind of warfare seemed to hint at a larger conflict. Something was making the clans act in this bizarre fashion. Or someone.

She let her mind wander as her thoughts went back to Jack, wondering where he was and if he was safe. Not an hour went by when she didn't think of him, wondering if he was nearing Picardy at this point. She hoped he'd made it through the passage safely, and didn't suffer the same kind of treatment they had at the hands of the Swabian warship and the Andalucian slave trawler. Yet, Jack's force had the ability to strike back if attacked while the Swordfish had nothing to offer in the form of protection.

It pained her to think about all those people dying in the attack and most of all, Vera. Tears filled her eyes again as she remembered Vera's bright eyes and trusting face, never to be seen again when the Swordfish inevitably slipped beneath the waves. That was enough for her to swear vengeance alone. Not only on the Andalucians but on the Swabians as well for causing this ordeal with her present circumstances.

At that moment, one of the slave tenders worked his way close to her pen. He was carrying a small tray of water, filled to the brim with little cups and offered to all the slaves every hour due to the sun's heat. Besides their daily meal, it was one of those things that she looked forward to the most, her throat always dry and parched under the heat of the sun.

"Water," croaked the tender as he tossed the cup through the metal bars at Kat. Half of it ended up splashing her clothes while the rest of it spilled against the ground. A little kindness would have killed them and little things like throwing the water cups at them were subtle reminders of their status in the Andalucian world at the very bottom of the rung. Grabbing the cup, she downed what remained in one drop, tossing it back on the ground next to her when it was empty. The cup always went too quickly and today looked to be another scorching day.

"I doubt I'm going to make it throughout the day," whispered a quiet, feminine voice to her left. Kat turned to look at the woman slouched down beside her, her cup now empty as she struggled to get the last drop into her mouth.

"We'll have more water in the hour, Lara," said Kat while sliding closer to the woman. She reached out to hold the woman's hand, finding it too warm to the touch and slightly clammy. Casting her gaze over to Lara, she found her eyes devoid of much spark and her color pale.

"You know I had a family once? With sons, tall sons," said Lara quietly. "They're all gone now."

Kat nodded her head quietly, preferring to pet her hand for some measure of comfort. Lara had been circling the drain now for days. At first, she had been a friend to Kat when she was first brought to Andalucia, being one of the women on the Swordfish. They were brought to the slave city of Methusa and sold together to the Numratha. Kat knew the real reason why they had been sold so quickly and together. Lara had been an attractive woman in her mid-thirties. No doubt, they were to have been sold for the harem of the clan chief.

However as the days went on, the heat and the gravity of the situation seemed to get to Lara. Kat didn't ask her too many questions, knowing she still struggled with seeing her entire family killed before her very eyes. Kat wasn't sure if Lara was just at the stage of willingly giving up or if it was the elements that caused her current condition, but she was sure death might be a mercy for someone who had lost so much. Surely that would be better than being the concubine for some warring clan lord.

In any matter, it was a better alternative than if the Swabians had realized who Kat was. She shuddered to think of what might have happened if they knew her true identity. She'd probably have been shipped back to Swabia for a personal execution by the emperor himself in that case. It was a cruel sense of irony that she found herself even relieved to be a slave. At least she was alive.

"Why do they beat their drums?" asked Lara. "Is it time for supper?"

Kat pulled the woman closer to her and gently stroked her head. "Yes, Lara. Time for supper. They'll be bringing food around for us soon."

Lara's eyes glazed over as a brief look of insanity took hold on her face. "Just tell them not to overcook the chicken."

"I will," said Kat with a heavy gulp.

The sounds of the war drums grew louder and soon the camp of the Numratha was just about empty save for the old, the women, and the children. The slave tenders never left either, so as to block a possible escape from those that wished to be free. Although from what Kat could tell, escapes never really succeeded. Too weak to get far enough away, escapees were either killed on the spot or sent directly to the mines, a death sentence in everything but name.

At this point, perhaps death would be a mercy? Kat hated to think like that, but the thoughts kept slipping into her brain when she least expected them. Every time she tried to picture what a future would look like to her, she remembered the conversation she had with Vera about her experience as a whore. Even though Vera eventually made it to Sorella, what hope would Kat have? Especially if Jack wasn't here to rescue her?

Once again, she found herself thinking about Jack and wondering if he would come find her. Did he even know if she was alive? Did he care enough to attempt a rescue? That kiss they shared before she left seemed to indicate he cared. But would he come all this way just for her? Just to free her from slavery?

At that moment, something clicked for Kat. She wished she had access to her pack and her journal, desperately wanting to read the lines of prophecy once more. Her brain sparked with recognition.

The freer of slaves will bring light.

Could it be? Was Andalucia the key to that passage?

Kat smiled for the first time in days as hope raced through her body. It was so simple and so easy. And worst of all, it had been right in front of her all this time. Prophecy was never wrong, and if that was the case, if she was right about Jack, perhaps he would rescue her after all.

Kat's attention turned back to the mountains where the beating of war drums eased up for a few minutes, allowing other sounds to filter through. It allowed her to just pick up the sound of something else beyond the drums, a steady crackle that she sought to identify. It came in bursts, loud enough to echo throughout the mountains, but still faint enough for her to struggle with what it was.

Gunfire.

It had to be Jack. That sound she heard was gunfire. The only thing that fired that rapidly were the Javan weapons. They were close, so very close to her current position that Kat could have jumped with happiness if only she had the energy. She smiled once again and bit her lip, so thankful that it could have only been Jack that would come this far away just to get her.

"What is that sound? Fireworks?" asked Lara to her side.

Kat nodded eagerly. "Yes, Lara. Beautiful fireworks. We're going to be saved."

Lara sighed weakly. "Not a moment too soon," she whispered.

Her happiness would not last long. There was a commotion in the camp as several of the slave tenders were pulled aside by the personal guards of the clan chief. Kat watched with interest as they repeatedly gestured back to the pens, and she felt alarmed when several of the guards started to point in her direction. Fear started to grip her. Did they know that Jack was after her? That she was the cause of all of this war?

That group soon dissolved as several of the tenders headed her direction and started to open her pen. Two of them slipped inside and Kat closed her eyes, praying it wasn't her they were after. Unfortunately, she felt their rough hands enclose under her arms and yank her to her feet.

"What are you doing with me?" she asked weakly as one of the guards stepped directly in front of her while wearing a cruel smile. At his waist, was an ugly curved sword that looked especially vicious.

"This is the one. Let's go!" he said quickly.

"Go? Go where?" asked Kat.

The guard leered at her. "You, pretty thing, have been sold to the high clan king of Andalucia. It's time to go!"