Alaska Republik-ARC (9 page)

His previous scowl vanished and Sam Dundas suddenly looked worried. “I apologize if I suggested offense, General Sobolof.”

“Not to worry. Captain Chernikoff’s brother is on a trip to visit his cousin, General Grigoriy Pietrivich Grigorievich, Commander of the Dená Army.”

“Grisha is in command—” Colonel Gregori George stopped himself with an effort. “My apologies, General, but you couldn’t have surprised me more if you had said he was the man in the moon.”

“It
is
surprising,” General Sobolof said with a sage nod. “Especially considering the fact that a year ago he was a prisoner in one of the Czar’s penal camps. With this hiatus in fighting, the Dená are sending him and his new wife, a colonel in the same army, to us as emissaries.”

“But we are a rebel army, General,” Colonel George said, “not a government.”

“The Dená started in the same manner,” Paul said. “Then they had each village elect a representative to send to an assembly where they thrashed out a basic government.”

“Why don’t we just have all the kwan chiefs decide on a government?” Colonel George said. “That would save a lot of trouble and time.”

Paul Chernikoff and Sam Dundas were the only two men in the room who were not kwan leaders. But Sam was the son of a kwan chief and knew that one day he would lead his people. Chernikoff cleared his throat.

“If it had been the Tlingit Army, my cousin Grisha would perhaps be a major. The Dená have traditional chiefs, but they also have legislators, a war council, and a president. Some of those people are traditional chiefs, but the majority are not.”

“What are you implying, Captain?” Colonel Paul asked in a frigid tone.

“Our people have a rigid caste system. Tradition has always outweighed ability and that has not changed in hundreds of years.”

“Our system works for us, Captain Chernikoff,” Colonel George said. “Let the Dená do as they wish.”

“The Dená are creating a republik. Republik means equal representation for all. Every person above a certain age has a vote.”

“Even women?” Colonel George asked in evident surprise.

“Yes, even women. Over half of the delegates in the Dená assembly are women. And they have done an excellent job of directing, and fighting in, the war against the Russians.”

Silence settled on the small room. One by one, all eyes found General Sobolof. Chernikoff kept his silence and waited; he had done his part.

“Like it or not, we are in the midst of change,” General Sobolof said. “We wish to govern ourselves, to throw off the Czar and his cossacks once and forever. It surprises none of us that we cannot do this thing alone; we need help from outside.”

“General, if I may interrupt a moment?” Colonel Paul said. “Would it be worth destroying our culture in the process of freeing our people? The kwan is the backbone of our people—”

“But not the muscle!” Chernikoff blurted. “The people are the muscle, and the chiefs and leading families have always been the brains. It is time the whole of our people had a say in their lives.”

“That is a very radical statement,” Colonel Paul snapped. “This is not the time for radical deviation from the way our people live.”

“Throwing off the Czar and the Russian government isn’t radical? They have been our masters for over two hundred years—is
that
not tradition by now?”

“Captain Chernikoff,” General Sobolof said, “I think we all get the point of your commentary. Please allow us the courtesy of debate.”

“Of course, General.”

“You may leave the room now.”

18

Tanana, Dená Republik

“No,” Wing said as sternly as she could. “We aren’t taking any large weapons.”

“But this is the rifle General Grigorievich used in the Second Battle of Chena, Colonel!” Sergeant Major Tobias’ eyebrows went as high as his tone of voice.

Grisha laughed. “Don’t worry, Sergeant Major, I’m sure I won’t need it in Akku.”

“Very good, General.” Tobias left the room.

“He’s like a mother hen!” Wing said in a low voice as she sat down beside him. “Sometimes I feel I’m a rival to him for your affection.”

Grisha put his arm around her shoulders, pulled her over and kissed her.

“If that’s the case, he lost.”

“Well, I wasn’t worried about him winning!”

“Neither was I.”

She peered at him. “Grisha, you’ve changed somehow. You don’t seem as uncomfortable as you once were with what you’re doing.”

“I finally realized that I was no longer a charter boat skipper in chains, but rather I was a person of authority in charge of the lives of many good people. The thing that has saved me in the past, and now, is my ability to change: to assess the situation correctly and embrace it completely. I have accepted the fact that I am now a general and must think far beyond myself if I am to do the job I have been given.”

“I think I’m who I always was.” She looked at him with new eyes.

Two knocks sounded on the door and Sergeant Major Tobias stepped though.

“Guess who?” Wing muttered.

“Colonel Jackson wishes an audience with you, General. What should I tell him?”

“Show him in, Sergeant Major Tobias.”

“Very good, sir.” He shot Wing a glance and then exited.

“I think the sergeant major and I shall have a little chat,” Wing said, “about his chances of promotion.”

“There’s no higher enlisted rank than sergeant major,” Grisha said.

“True. But he might be a corporal, soon.”

“Grisha!” Benny Jackson strode into the room and then stopped short. “Sorry. General Grigorievich, how good to see you again.”

Grisha smiled and reached up from his wheelchair. “Benny, it will always be Grisha to you.”

“Thank you, sir!” He shook Grisha’s hand and looked over at Wing. “And the most exciting woman I know, such luck I have. How are you, Wing?”

She embraced him. “It’s good to see you, Benny,” she said into his ear, “what do you want?”

He pulled back with a laugh. “Damn, I hate it when a woman is smarter than I am.”

“Another woman, you mean.” She smiled again.

“Wing!” Grisha said with a frown.

“No,” Benny said in a more somber tone, “she does have a point.”

“I know you’re a busy man, Benny,” Grisha said. “What can I do for you?”

“In a way, it’s something I can do for you. Do you, personally, have a problem with the Republic of California rendering aid to the Tlingit Nation?”

“Christ, no!” Grisha tried to sit up straighter, but the full leg cast kept him pinned to his chairback. “I couldn’t be happier! They will be under the Japanese yoke within weeks if they don’t get help, and we can’t help them.”

“I don’t trust your current government, but I trust both of you. We’ve all shared privation, defeat, and victory together. There is no stronger bond among humankind.”

“No argument,” Wing said, her eyes shining. “Finish what you started to say.”

“We’re going to declare war on Japan if they don’t withdraw from Alaskan and Californian waters. I understand you two are the new Dená ambassadors to the Tlingit Nation. Congratulations. Be ready to move south on a moment’s notice, okay?”

“Why?”

“We’re supplying your transport and it’s to our advantage to have you down there right now. They trust you. Something about a kwan?”

“Yeah, that means a lot to them,” Grisha said. “Will you be going with us?”

“No. They pulled me out of the field to ask you about the potential alliance with the Tlingits. My government thinks we have a bond they can manipulate, so they obviously don’t know you very well.”

Wing grinned but her tone bore an edge. “And you’re not trying to manipulate us?”

“No, Colonel Grigorievich, I’m not. I might try that with your government, but not with the two of you.”

“Thanks, Benny,” Grisha said. “We appreciate that. Now get back to your command.”

19

Tim McDaniel’s odinochka

Although feeling the room was far too small for all the people jammed into it, Cassidy pulled the door shut behind him and stood quietly, assessing the scene.

Timothy McDaniel’s
odinochka
, situated three miles outside Chistochina on the edge of the Saint Elias Mountain Range, occupied a prosperous location. The twenty-meter-by-twenty-meter building was sectioned off from the entrance by two long counters. One served as a bar, now thick with loud inebriates.

The second counter served for dry goods and other merchandise and was populated by two patient Indian women who waited for the proprietor’s attention. A pall of tobacco smoke wreathed the heads of those who stood. Cassidy didn’t like the stink. Never had.

Stale beer, unwashed bodies, and the sharp bite of cheap whiskey also mingled to overwhelm his nose.

“Yukon Cassidy? We haven’t seen you around here for at least a year!” Cristina Petitesse seemed ageless. He remembered she had looked this wrinkled and jaded ten years ago.

He had never seen her inhale her trademark Russian cigarette. It was as if her lungs filled through her nicotine-stained fingers. She blew out a cloud of acrid smoke.

“What can I do for you?”

“Petrol for my utility, a mug of beer, and some answers.” He noticed the drop in conversation around him as more of the denizens quieted to hear the stranger’s words.

“Petrol is six coppers a liter, and four coppers for the beer,” she said, waiting for payment.

He slapped money on the bar. “And how much for the answers?”

“That all depends on the questions.” She turned and pulled a tap handle over a smudged mug. She set it on the bar as if making an offering, but the four coppers disappeared before his hand touched glass.

“Looking for a man called Riordan, Major Tim Riordan.”

He drank off half the beer without examining the mug.

Cristina frowned at the name, but Cassidy recognized her
I’m thinking about it
look and waited. Her eyes returned to his.

“Never heard of him. Is he in this area?”

“He’s somewhere in Russian Amerika, that’s all I know.”

“Well, for once you know more about the situation than I do. No charge. I’ll have Boris top off your utility.”

She turned away and the ambient conversation resumed its previous volume. Someone nudged his left elbow. He looked down at a small, heavily bearded man. No, small didn’t come close. This person stood barely more than a meter and a quarter.

“Who are you?”

“Someone you need to know!” The surprisingly deep voice held no question, only assertion. “You’ve got one chance in four to get out of this room alive.”

“Wha—”

“And one chance in six to get back through the gate before you bleed to death, no matter how fast you drive.”

Cassidy glanced around. Nobody paid them the slightest heed. He tried not to grin as he lowered his gaze to the man. “Nobody seems to give a damn whether I’m here or not.”

“Just for drill, shut up and listen. Two of Riordan’s men are in this room. They’ll want to know why you’re looking for their boss. If it’s not to give him, and them, a job, it means you’re one of the growing throng who wish to see that bastard Irishman dead. So, which is it?”

Cassidy surreptitiously glanced around again.

Still no detectable interest
.

He looked back to his informant, no longer feeling like smiling.

“So which ones are they?”

“The first one will remain unknown for the moment. I’m the second one.”

Cassidy grinned. “You’re looking for another job, aren’t you?”

The beard moved and Cassidy saw a flash of teeth.

“You’re pretty quick for a guy your size. Your chances of living just changed dramatically,
if
you make the right decision.”

“Which would be to hire you?”

“Yes. You need a guide and someone who knows the Freekorps and can fight at your back.”

“Nobody gets behind me that I don’t trust implicitly. So far you don’t fit that description. Hell, I don’t even know your name.”

“Listen hard,” he spoke quickly, “we don’t have the time to go over it a second time. I am Roland Delcambré, a man of wit and education who has fallen on desperate circumstances. I hired myself out as a mercenary soldier to…”

Cassidy snorted what began as a laugh.

Delcambré’s hard, dark eyes burned up at him. “You have a big man’s attitude. Don’t confuse size with ability. You haven’t seen me shoot.”

“Forgive me, you look more the poet than the warrior. Please continue.”

“Perhaps I also misjudged you,” Delcambré again flashed his grin. “You’re pretty good at sucking up for a man your size.”

Cassidy bristled and his good humor vanished. “Okay, you little—”

The snick of a sling blade flashing to rigidity, and the slightest touch of a fine, sharp point under his scrotum, decreased the latter’s size by half.

“The thing you big guys don’t seem to realize is that someone my size is very much closer to your
weak
spots.”

“Make your point, verbally, if possible, and let’s be done with it.”

The blade vanished.

“I am a mercenary, and a good one. I can shoot the eye out of a camp robber at 150 yards.”

The screeching, constantly active Steller’s jay bobbed in Cassidy’s mind for a moment. “And?”

“I’m one of Riordan’s intelligence agents. The big guy with me is my bodyguard.”

“Which big guy?” It took all of Cassidy’s willpower not to look around the room with new eyes.

“The
promyshlennik
by the door. The one who looks like he’s deep in his cups? He hasn’t had a drink.”

Cassidy turned his head and scratched his neck sporting a disbelieving look on his face. He spotted the bodyguard, noted the hard stare from beneath the lowered eyelids over a falsely jovial mouth.

“Alright. I believe you. Are you as good at your job as he is at his?”

“Much better. He’s stupid and happy where he is. I am looking for other employment.”

“Why? Seriously?”

“Listen, I’ve been serious from the first.
You
were the one with size prejudices that got in the way of rational thinking. This is your last chance to hear me out; would you like to use it?”

“I don’t apologize twice. What’s your proposition?”