Alaska Republik-ARC (36 page)

Shipley stood and offered his hand. “All the best, Jerry, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Jerry shook his hand. “It has been an honor serving with you.”

Jerry turned and left the office before the lump in his throat could progress into something potentially embarrassing.

98

Tanana, Dená Republik

The Tlingit delegation flew in on a rainy day, which pleased Grisha no end.

They’ll feel right at home
.

The twin-engine propeller aircraft stopped in front of the new terminal and the whining engines slowly faded to silence. Grisha glanced over the honor guard with pride. The eight men and women all wore the new Dená Republik Army uniform, designed by two Athabascan women and manufactured by a company in the Republic of California.

The aircraft door opened just as the portable stairway rolled into place. General Sobolof stepped out and glanced at the sky which threatened heavier rain and soon. He moved down the steps followed by four more Tlingit Army officers and four civilians, three of which were women.

The Dená honor guard formed up on each side of the walkway and saluted as the group passed through. Grisha waited at the end with Wing and General Eluska flanking him. Off to the side stood Lieutenant Colonel Yamato, Captain Pietr Chernikoff, and Sergeant Major Tobias.

“Grisha, it has been too long since I last saw you.”

Grisha smiled. It had only been a matter of weeks since their last conversation. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Vincent. Welcome to Tanana, Dená Republik.”

“We have much to discuss, Grisha. But first allow me some pleasure.” General Sobolof stopped in front of Captain Chernikoff, who stood even straighter if that were possible.

“Captain Pietr Chernikoff, it my great pleasure to promote you to Lieutenant Colonel in the Tlingit Nation Army. Your effectiveness here in the Dená Republik has been exemplary. Besides, we had to keep you and Paul looking the same, didn’t we?”

At that moment Paul Chernikoff emerged from the aircraft and in quick strides covered the distance between him and his brother. The two men embraced.

Grisha heard Wing mutter to Yamato and Tobias, “My God, how will we tell them apart?”

“Would you all please join us for lunch?” Grisha said.

“With thanks, General Grigorievich,” Colonel Sam Dundas said. “I’m starving!”

Everyone boarded a dilapidated Russian omnibus for the ride to the hospital. Abruptly the sky opened and heavy rain sheeted down. Thunder reverberated through the bus, smothering conversation and causing a few apprehensive glances out the windows.

“I refuse to view this as an omen,” General Sobolof all but shouted.

Grisha nodded.

The bus halted as close to the front of the hospital as possible. Sergeant Major Tobias was first out the door and ran the few meters to the hospital doors and flung them open. Then he ran back and assisted as people exited the omnibus.

By the time Grisha got to the door, Tobias was soaked.

“Sergeant Major, don’t you catch cold. I’m going to need your energy in the next few days.”

“Not to worry, General. I have a dry uniform inside.”

Thunder rumbled again but the storm had moved west and the worst seemed to be over. Wing led everyone into the largest room in the building where tables had been arranged in a large circle with openings on two sides. Everyone would be facing the center.

Each place setting was marked with a small placard bearing a person’s name written in beautiful calligraphy. Off to the side stood the constitutional convention delegates. A pair of tables held pitchers of water and a large samovar of tea.

The groups melded and conversations bloomed and flourished. Sergeant Major Tobias, in a crisp uniform complete with all of his decorations and badges, edged up to Grisha who chatted with Paul and Pietr Chernikoff about family and friends back in Akku.

“Excuse me, sirs.” Tobias nodded to the two colonels. “General, whenever you think everyone is ready to eat just nod and we’ll ring the dinner bell.”

Grisha looked from one cousin to the other. “You two ready to eat?”

“I know our bunch is ready to start gnawing table legs.”

“Sergeant Major, ring your bell.”

“Very good, General Grigorievich.”

Moments later the ring of a small, crystalline bell cut through all talk. In the sudden silence, Sergeant Major Tobias inclined his head to the group and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, if you will take your places we will now begin lunch.”

Grisha smiled as everyone quickly found their assigned places. It seemed there had been surreptitious recons taking place. Four servers entered through the kitchen door and set platters of food on the tables.

Grisha snagged a strip of squaw candy and began chewing.

99

Klahotsa on the Yukon, Dená Republik

“I thought you were bringing a small army of mercenaries with you, Major Riordan,” Kurt Bachmann said in a snide tone to the obviously weary man standing in his doorway.

“The situation changed many times since we spoke with your agent. I have traveled a long way; may I come in?”

Bachmann nodded to the two heavily armed men flanking the major. “It’s okay. You men did a good job. Come on in, Riordan.”

As the door shut behind him, Riordan said, “Those two would make good mercenaries. I had no idea they were around until they told me to halt.”

“One used to be in the Russian Army, the other has served under arms but I have no idea where. What happened to your International Freekorps? They all following you at a distance?”

“I wish!” Riordan dropped into a chair and looked around. “You got anything to drink? Water for a start?”

Bachmann went behind his bar and poured a cup of water and carried it to the table. “On the house.”

Riordan drank it all and handed it back. “I’d be forever grateful if you could fill it with whiskey now, just this once.”

Bachmann glanced down into the cup and back at Riordan. “How grateful? You going to repair my truck?”

Riordan winced. “Please don’t say truck. Brings back recent bad memories.”

Bachmann retreated behind his bar again and filled the cup with British Canadian whiskey. “Do share the memory,” he said, putting the cup in front of the Irishman.

After an appreciative sip, Riordan twisted his lips into a wry smile. “Met two Indians way the hell down by Delta; they had a truck and I needed a ride. They asked me where I was headed and I said Klahotsa. They were headed for Nowitna but said I could ride that far.”

Bachmann suddenly grinned. “You should have never told them you were coming here.”

“Got that straight! I thought I’d be able to get the drop on them at some point and arrive here in style with my own truck. Those bastards never stopped watching me; they even took turns sleeping.”

“But they
did
give you a ride?”

“Yeah, right to the junction where you turn to go to Nowitna. Then they pointed down that desolate mess of rocks you people call a highway and said I only had another hundred or so miles to go. Since one of them was holding a rifle in his hands, I thanked them for the ride and started walking.”

“Didn’t even bother to try and steal a vehicle?”

“I knew they distrusted me and would warn everyone in Nowitna. Since I’ve no wish to get shot to death over some crappy lorry, I decided to walk. Took me three days. If I hadn’t met a trapper who fed me all the muskrat I could eat, I would have probably starved.”

“Takes longer than three days to starve,” Bachmann said. “So why did you come here?”

“Because you hired me. Timothy Riordan keeps his word.”

“What possible good can you do me by yourself? I hired an army, not a damned advisor.”

“I’m temporarily without an army, true. But you do need an advisor, Bachmann. More to the point: you need me.”

“What the hell for?”

“How many more fellows like those two I met you got around here?”

“A few, so what?”

“Every one of them is a loose cannon if it comes to a fight. Right now they’re all a bunch of individuals. You need someone who knows how to turn them into an army.”

“An army loyal to me, of course?”

“As long as you meet payday,” Riordan said with a smile.

Bachmann walked back and picked up the whiskey and a second cup, sat down at the table and poured both cups full.

“So how much of a wage do you require, Major Riordan? And what
exactly
do I get in return for paying it?”

100

Tanana, Dená Republik

Grisha set his empty cup on the table and grimaced at General Vincent Sobolof. “Now I have to make a speech. This is the part of the job I hate.”

Vincent grinned. “I promise to applaud.”

“I just hope the Dená do too.”

He stood in one of the two openings breaking the ring of tables. He wanted to be able to see everyone’s face without constantly turning in circles. All conversation ceased and all eyes were on him.

“Delegates, this is a special day in an historic time in our country. I have agreed to preside over the constitutional convention for the Dená Republik. However, the scope of this assemblage has changed even before the task begins.”

He nodded at Vincent before continuing.

“Some weeks ago, Colonel Wing Grigorievich, my lovely wife, and I were dispatched to the Tlingit Nation as ambassadors. We were to sound them out on possible unification of our two fledgling nations.”

Some of the Dená were exchanging puzzled glances complete with raised eyebrows. A few were frowning.

“After much talk, and a lot of argument,” some of the Tlingits laughed at that point, “we came to a consensus. Just as they have here in Dená country, the old order had to willingly change if this concept had any hope of success.

“So they sent word to all the villages; elect a representative and send them to us. They had even less time than we did here. But it was done, and they are with us today.”

Agitation among the Dená became noticeable and Grisha nodded at Wing who had suggested place names so there could be no whispering at this point.

“I promise you all the opportunity for questions and debate when I have finished my opening remarks. Every person in this room was elected by their people to represent them and create a new nation where freedom, equality, and peace can be realized by every citizen. It is not going to be easy.

“But we are not talking about the Dená Republik any longer. We are creating the Alaska Republik, a nation that will stretch from the Arctic Ocean to Dixon’s Entrance—”

“Do the Eskimos know about this?” Gennady Ustinov blurted, rising to his feet. “Are they gonna walk through the door next?”

“Mr. Ustinov, I promised you an opportunity to speak when I was finished.” Grisha let ice coat his words. “I am not yet finished.”

Gennady sat down in silence.

“I was about to address the point that the Eskimos have not been contacted yet. Mainly that’s due to the fact they are not in the midst of creating a nation—yet. They certainly know about the war being newly finished but beyond that we have no idea what they know.

“First we need to create the promise and then offer it to them. They can take it or leave it. The most recent intelligence we have received is that the Russians have completely pulled out of northern Alaska and are preparing to do the same in central and southeast Alaska. The only area in Alaska they have not left is Kodiak, where they are still fighting a Japanese invasion.”

This was news to most in the room and Grisha let the silence linger as they digested the meaning of his words. Before anyone in his audience could comment, he continued.

“We have prevailed in this contest with the Czar for two reasons: we had help from very powerful North American nations and, the Czar had other problems much closer to St. Petersburg that threatened his empire. To put it bluntly, he wrote us off like a bad debt.”

Grisha hurriedly drank half a glass of water.

“Which doesn’t mean we’re out of the woods yet! We have received help from the United States, the Republic of California, and the First People’s Nation. That help comes with a price we have yet to learn or are in any position to repay and still maintain the sovereignty for which we have fought.

“Think about that! You people have to create something here that will deal with and transcend all obligations. I further charge you Dená, and you Kolosh, to come together and create an Alaska Republik. I will now take questions.”

Gennady Ustinov was on his feet instantly.

“General, there is much happening here that was totally—oh, what’s the word?—uh,
unanticipated!
We were supposed to create the Dená Republik, nothing more, nothing less. We’re not ready for this!”

Blue Bostonman shot to her feet and stared at Gennady. “What, you think your people elected you to do something easy, something that just benefited you and to hell with them? All of us here carry something sacred: the belief of our friends and neighbors that we can give them hope, equality, and the promise that no one else can do it better. You people got a lot to live up to!”

Four more people stood up.

Grisha pointed to a Tlingit woman. “Ganaxxa.”

The other three people sat down.

“I am Ganaxxa of the Hutsnuwu People. I live in the village of Angoon. This is a frightening thing for us, this constitutional convention.

“We don’t know you people, the Dená, very well. For centuries our two peoples have traded but nothing more. Until the Russians came we were a warrior nation and all other peoples were frightened of us.

“We still have that heritage; we will fight anyone who tries to conquer us.” She shrugged. “We might not
win
, but we
will
fight!”

Many delegates laughed but all paid close attention.

“We are here to see if we want to join you in this republik thing. Our peoples have more in common with each other than we do with the Russians, or Californians, or the Japanese. We must build a nation of strength and this will not be an easy thing to do.

“So let us begin as equals. You have impressed us by choosing General Grigorievich to be first speaker of this thing. I have great hope for all of us.”