Alaska Republik-ARC (14 page)

“Shit, you’re going into shock, damn you. Georgi, listen to me. Take off your belt and tighten it around your leg above the wound. Do it!”

Georgi pulled his belt off in one move and wrapped it around his leg and tightened it as hard as he could. “The thing is, my brother, every so often I require some direction. The amazing part is that you always seem to know when that moment arrives.”

Ivan banked and roared in a straight line for their aerodrome at St. Anthony Redoubt. “Are you still losing blood?”

“No, the flow has ceased. But I seem to have leaked a great deal.”

“It’s all that alcohol in our blood. We’ve thinned ourselves to a dangerous level.”

“My God, you’re right. We could bleed to death twice as fast as anyone else with the same wound.”

“Probably four times as fast,” Ivan said, glancing sympathetically at his brother.

“Get me home.”

“What did you see back there?”

“Four, maybe five tanks, six or seven trucks. Over a hundred soldiers in a position to shoot at us when you went insane back there.”

“You know as well as I do, if you don’t scare the game it won’t flush.”

“Or fight,” Georgi said agreeably.

“Exactly. And as reconnaissance pilots, we need to know how many will fight.”

“I think I remembered that part, Ivan. But I don’t remember discussing the part where we charge the enemy in a helicopter with only one gun which you didn’t see fit to use.”

“To tell the truth, I forgot we had it. It probably isn’t even loaded.” He thumbed the cover up and pressed the trigger mounted on the stick.

Rapid roars boomed in front of them and the helicopter slowed near stalling speed. Ahead of them the tops of several large trees blew into flinders.

“Stop shooting, give this thing some petrol!” Georgi screamed. “The goddamned cannon is loaded. Now get me home!”

28

38 miles south of Delta

Rudi peered through the mosquito-net-covered slats of the hospital wall. The Freekorps numbered about two hundred effectives. It reminded him of the Russian Troika Guard: multiple shades of skin, a variety of languages, and they all spoke English when on duty. Except in the Troika Guard, the language had been Russian.

But what are they doing here? Had the Czar hired mercenaries to bolster his odds against the Dená and their allies?

Somehow Rudi didn’t believe that. This outfit reminded him of the vultures in Afghanistan, except the Freekorps smelled both death and profit.

As near as he could tell, all of the effectives were cross-trained. He wouldn’t wager against any of them in a target-shooting contest. They would not be an easy foe to conquer.

His cot jiggled which meant someone had just walked up the steps of the hospital. Rudi sank back on his pillow and closed his eyes. He hoped they would not change the huge bandage they had wrapped around his torso; he had almost worked the stiffness out.

“Your hands and arms are torn and bruised, your whole body has been battered, and you have internal injuries which should have killed you,” the doctor had told him after a thorough examination. “Yet you seem to be healing at a much faster pace than if you were in a modern, well-equipped hospital. How do you account for that?”

Rudi had grinned at him. “Perhaps because I lead an exemplary life?”

The doctor laughed all the way to the door, where he called a nurse in to help him bandage Rudi. The nurse was a hulking man with surprisingly gentle hands. It still hurt when they tightened the bandage around him.

The floorboards creaked as someone approached. Rudi wondered if they were visiting him or Pelagian, or just checking on both.

“Sergeant, are you awake?” Bodecia asked.

“Awake.” His eyes flew open and surprise filled him to see her alone. “Have you evaded the guards?” he whispered.

She nodded. “It’s easy if you know how. Has Pelagian wakened yet?”

“No. They gave him an injection and he went into a deep sleep.”

“Good, he’ll heal quicker that way. How much have you observed?”

“I would put their number near two hundred, give or take twenty. They have six tanks and four armored personnel carriers, some with Russian Army markings, and a fleet of trucks.” He stopped, thinking hard. “Oh yes, and one motorcycle.”

“Very good, Rudi. Our numbers match. Now I am worried that since they have allowed us to see so much, what do they plan to do with us?”

“Ransom is the only thing I have heard. I do not believe they have a political stake in this war, only an interest in money.”

“But surely they realize our side has no money. We are all at the end of our possibilities. That’s one of the things that has precipitated this war.”

“My armored company was ordered here. If the Czar tells me to fight, I obey. If he tells me to stand down and relax, I obey. This”—he gestured at the hospital walls—“is all new to me.”

“Yes,” she said. “As Pelagian says, ‘I am orating to the ordained.’ I am worried about what they will do to you and Pelagian.”

“If you can escape,” Rudi whispered in an urgent tone, “you must do so!”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, I am too much bound up in that man’s life to leave. I would rather die with him than live without him.”

Rudi looked at the sleeping Pelagian, then back to her.

“You have no idea how much I envy him at this moment.”

29

38 miles south of Delta

Bo Thomas slowly crawled backward from the ridge of the knoll before turning. Frank Isaac and William Williams leaned forward at his approach. Back at the ridge Yukon Cassidy remained on his stomach, peering through binoculars.

“They got a bunch of people down there, maybe hundred fifty, two hundred. They got tanks and them things that have big machine guns and haul troops.”

“Armored personnel carriers?” Frank asked.

“Yeah, those. And a bunch of trucks.”

“Shit,” William said in a reverent tone. “We’re in over our heads.” He eased forward to a vantage point and raised his binoculars.

“Why are they here?” Frank said.

Bo shrugged and Frank patted him on the shoulder. “Good work, Bo. Now get back to the others and tell them to stay very quiet.”

“Can I tell them what I saw down there?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay. See ya.” Bo evaporated into the brush.

Frank slowly took position between Cassidy and William. “Whattya see?” he whispered.

Williams spoke first, “Same thing Bo saw. But what I don’t see is Pelagian or Bodecia.”

“Are there any large structures where they might be held prisoner?”

“Well, there’s close to two dozen vehicles where they could be held, and there are two large tents.”

Frank squinted his eyes. “I can’t see for shit any more. Are either of them marked as a hospital?”

“Yeah, the biggest one.” He pulled the binoculars away and looked at Frank. “You getting old or what?”

“Unless you’re dead, you’re getting older all the time, right?”

“Good point.”

Cassidy spoke up, “Hey, I see Bodecia.”

“Where? What’s she doing?”

“She’s walking up to the hospital tent. The guard doesn’t seem to see her. She went in.”

“I’ll bet my trap-line against yours that’s where they’ve got Pelagian,” Frank said.

“No bet,” William said. “Okay?”

“Yeah, no bet.” Frank scooted back into the dense tree line. “This is more than we can handle. It’s more than the Russian garrison can handle.”

“Hell, it’s more than all of us put together can handle,” Cassidy said, joining them.

“Not necessarily,” Frank replied.

***

“Colonel Romanov, Doyon Isaac is here to see you,” Sergeant Severin said.

“I hope this isn’t more trouble. Please show him in.”

The colonel stood as the doyon entered.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Colonel Romanov.”

Romanov shook the offered hand. “I am never too busy to see you, Doyon Isaac. Please make yourself comfortable.”

“We have a mutual problem, so I will get straight to the point.”

Romanov nodded.

“There is a small army of mercenaries up on Boris Creek, small by army standards, that is. They number around one hundred fifty to—

“Two hundred effectives,” Romanov said. “Your intelligence is very good, Doyon Isaac. But how is this your problem?”

“We are very aware of the fighting north of here between the Dená and the Russian military. The fact that it has lasted over many months gives us all hope we had been afraid to admit before now. We’ve heard nothing for almost a week, but prior to that things had quieted and—”

“The Republic of California has entered the war on the side of the Dená separatists by dropping 900 paratroopers on Chena three days ago. They will be defeated by the armored column moving north from St. Nicholas.”

“Your high command hasn’t told you about the battle of Rainbow Ridge?”

“What are you talking about?”

“A squadron of ROC P-61 Eureka fighters destroyed most of the armored column, and blew large gaps in the road to the pass. The surviving vehicles are stranded until the road can be repaired in both directions.”

“Propaganda, perhaps?” Romanov countered, feeling a void in the pit of his stomach.

“I had no idea you were unaware of the battle. Over half of the attacking squadron was destroyed.”

“I knew about the battle, and the destruction of the armored column; what I didn’t know was that I had a spy among my communications people. We have other reserves in the area.” Romanov didn’t like this verbal chess match, especially since they had lost contact with their only reserve—Taiga 10.

“Good, because the Freekorps is a very real threat to this village and your garrison. If you believe the Russian Army can effectively deal with the threat, I am much relieved.”

“What other choice is there?”

“We could join forces. I don’t have a lot of people under arms, but perhaps enough to make a difference.”

“A Dená Separatist cell would aid the Russian Army?”

“Part of the Dená Republik would help foreign troops stationed here by the Czar to defend the village of Delta and in so doing also defend St. Anthony Redoubt.”

“Republiks have a sordid history in North Amerika. They’re always breaking off from each other and starting new ones. Look how ineffective they render each other south of here.”

“In fact,” Doyon Isaac said, “they’re all fighting between themselves right now. Yet the USA and the ROC have both sent troops north to help us. The Dená Republik is already fact, Colonel Romanov.”

“Why are you interested in helping the Russian Army combat a band of mercenaries?”

“Two reasons. You have always been fair and as respectful as possible to my people. As far as the mercenaries are concerned, we are in this together; they will kill indiscriminately, not just Russians.”

“My grandmother was of the Yakut People. They and the Athabascans share many traditions. I treat your people the same as I would treat my own family.”

“I had no idea,” Doyon Isaac said, visibly moved.

“I sent out our helicopter this morning to check on Tai…on our reserve force. The helicopter encountered an unknown force and heavy fire. One of our pilots was severely wounded.”

“Do you want our help?”

“Your people know this country better than my men ever will. If you could provide ground reconnaissance, I would be most appreciative.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you, Doyon Isaac.”

They shook hands and the Athabascan left the office.

“Sergeant Severin, sound officers’ call!”

30

Delta, Russian Amerika

The scrape of an opening door pulled Jerry Yamato’s attention away from the remains of his meal. Magda jumped to her feet as William Williams entered the room.

“Well, you’re both up,” he said cheerfully, heading for the teapot on the stove.

“You were supposed to wake me after four hours,” Magda snapped.

“Yeah, well we were out messing around in the bush about that time. Besides, Frank said his favorite niece needed her sleep.”

“Where is Uncle Frank?”

“Over talking to Colonel Romanov.”

“Who’s that?” Jerry blurted. Fear vibrated through him and he wondered if these Indians weren’t as antagonistic toward the Russians as he had been led to believe.

“The Russian commander of St. Anthony Redoubt,” Magda said. “What’s he doing over there, William?”

“Making a deal that might save all our lives. Don’t worry, Lieutenant, he’s not selling you out, nor are you a bargaining chip. The Freekorps have more men than the Russians and us combined.”

“You’re joining the Russians?” Jerry suddenly realized that up here rules might change with the wind. The look on Magda’s face reflected his own turmoil, making him feel better.

“Think of it as them joining us,” William said. “Colonel Romanov is not your ordinary Russian officer; he has a heart.”

“I wish I could ask Rudi about this.”

“As soon as you’re ready to go, we’re going to go rescue your parents,” William said to Magda.

“Rescue? From what?”

“The Freekorps have them. We saw your mother going into their hospital tent, so we assume your father is in there too.”

“Are they what I think they are? Jerry asked. “The Freekorps, I mean?”

“Mercenaries from what Yukon Cassidy says, and well-armed ones at that. They must have hired out to someone other than the Russians or are just out for conquest. Cassidy is after their leader for crap they pulled down in the Nation.”

Magda bounded out of her chair and grabbed her machine pistol. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Jerry drank up his tea and followed her out the door. Thirteen men stood near the cabin, all carrying weapons. Magda hesitated and then laughed.

“What is this, a class reunion?”

Birds chirped drowsily in the dark trees and the light breeze invigorated Jerry. He could smell wood smoke and leather. Twelve of them smiled, the thirteenth glowered at him. “Heard you could use some help, Magda,” one of the others said.

“That’s true, Alexi, and I appreciate every one of you being here.”

“Nothin’ else to do around here, y’know?” another said.