Russian Amerika (38 page)

"Much closer to home we have a three part battle group moving up from Tetlin Redoubt, some of their armor was already in St. Anthony, twenty tanks and forty trucks, which will hit us first, probably in less than two hours."

"They must not be too worried about mines and ambushes," Wing said.

"They have an advance force of rangers who are moving very fast. Our people have picked off about ten of them and we've lost five effectives."

"Two to one, not good enough," she said.

"To beat the numbers they're sending against us, we need to make it eight to one," he said with a nod.

"What else?" A sudden numbness crept over her and she had to concentrate to make sense of his words.

"Our 77th Airborne parachuted into St. Michael and, in concert with your Northern Defense Force, are engaging the enemy at Bridge. Mobile antiaircraft batteries are en route as we speak. There's so much happening down south that the only way to follow it is chronologically."

He glanced down at the paper in his hand and pointed a long stick at the maps. "British Canadian armor has struck across the corner of the First People's Nation, here"-he tapped the map-"and into the U.S., here. The town of Bemidji, Minnesota"-another tap-"is under siege. A second front at Detroit Lakes has bogged down and the town is under heavy artillery attack."

"Where are you from in the United States, Major?"

"Iowa, ma'am, out west in 'Confederacy Corner.' " His grin held no humor. "We're east of the First People's Nation and north of the Confederate States. We haven't had trouble with the F.P.N. since we gave 'em back Kansas and signed the big treaty back in 1877. If anything they would be allies, but so far they're just sittin' quiet."

More of her officers hurried into the room and stopped to listen.

"Will the United States lose to Canada?"

"Not likely. Our borders have been beefed up for decades, waiting for this."

"What else is happening down there?"

"Well, the Confederates are trying for a second win at Harrisburg, but our boys are holding without too much trouble since we aren't using muskets this time."

"It seems that fighting a two-front war is the fashion these days," Wing said.

A few in the room laughed-brittle, edgy barks lacking humor and evading release.

"Can anything down there change our situation one way or another?"

"On our way here," Captain Lauesen said, "Republic of California Air Defense told us to expect heavy friendly traffic from their direction. They didn't elaborate."

The door crashed open.

"What the hell is going on?" Malagni swept into the room, radiating energy. He glanced at Captain Lauesen, pinned Wing with his eyes. "Report, Colonel."

Great, he's in crazy mode
.

"This is Captain Lauesen of the U.S. Army."

"Colonel," Lauesen said with a nod.

"He and the rest of us were assessing the situation, Colonel," Wing said. "It seems all of North America is suddenly at war with itself."

"What's our situation?" he asked with a nod to the captain.

"The Russians are fielding enough men that we're outnumbered eight to one," Wing said. "To be truthful, I don't know if we can hold them."

"Of course we can hold them!" Malagni's teeth bared under glinting eyes and Wing wondered if he smiled or snarled. He pressed on.

"Tanana Command is being beefed up by antiaircraft batteries from the U.S. and their new radar units show a large flight coming in from the R.O.C. All we gotta do is slow the damned Russians. Not that I would mind slaughtering every mother's son of 'em!"

"Any word on Grisha?" Wing asked.

"No." Malagni moved over to the map table and grabbed a pointer. The moose-hide shirt that covered his chest had only one sleeve. The right side flowed seamlessly over his stump. "Show me where they're at."

Captain Lauesen smoothly redelivered the report he had just given Wing. She edged back and watched as markers changed position on the table, strategies discussed and dismissed.

"Your people are fighting a two-front war?" Malagni asked.

"Three," Lauesen said with a grin. "We've launched an amphibious assault on the big naval yards at Norfolk and Little Creek, Virginia. Our marines are ashore and moving inland, as well as up into Chesapeake Bay."

"With that much going on I'm surprised the 77th came up to help us out."

"President Cuomo never backs away from his promises."

A U.S. Army sergeant moved briskly into the room and handed a sheet of paper to Captain Lauesen, who quickly read it.

"Well?" Malagni gestured at the paper.

"The Spanish are swarming across the Rio Grande into the Texas Republic from a number of positions. Everything south of San Antonio is under the Spanish flag right now." He took a deep breath.

"The Canadians are sending two armored columns against the Republic of California, with perhaps a third cutting through the First People's Nation."

"They've actually cut through the F.P.N. twice," Malagni whispered; Wing was sure he grinned. "The British are even dumber than I thought," he boomed. "They've really stirred up a hornet's nest now. Didn't they ever hear about Custer?"

He stared at the map table. "This is what we're going to do."

69

Capitol Building, San Francisco,

Republic of California

"Ambassador Adams, Colonel Grigorievich, gentlemen, please be seated," Republic of California Secretary of State Frank Barnes swept his arm out toward chairs in front of his desk. The secretary sank into his own leather upholstery.

"Please accept the president's apologies for not keeping you in the picture over the past few days. The situation in Alaska has polarized our congress and nation. After forty hours of debate the Senate and House both gave President Reagan authorization to declare war on Imperial Russia."

"So we are now allies?" Claude asked.

"Very much so," Secretary Barnes said. He grinned. "I think the president gave the people one of his best speeches ever. 'There's an eagle in the woods, it has two heads and both wear a crown. It likes to eat baby republics.' He received a standing ovation on that one."

Grisha laughed. "Good imagery. Does this mean I can get back to my command soon?"

Secretary Barnes glanced at his watch. "Your flight leaves in a little over an hour. You'll be flying with a squadron of troop transports carrying the Third Parachute Infantry Regiment and a Special Forces contingent to Fort Yukon. Ambassador Adams and you other gentlemen will be flown out tomorrow, assuming we all agree on our current treaty."

"We certainly want to finish our mission before going home," Claude said.

Grisha stood up. "Where do I go to catch this flight, sir?"

Secretary Barnes pushed a button on his desk then rose to his feet and shook Grisha's hand. "Lieutenant Anderlik will take to your transport. I wish you Godspeed and victory, Colonel."

"Thank you, Mr. Secretary." He nodded to the Dená delegation and followed the lieutenant out of the room.

"Right this way, sir," the lieutenant said. They entered an elevator and dropped farther than Grisha remembered ascending. The door opened into a large bay filled with ranked equipment and military personnel moving in all directions.

"Please follow me, sir." Lieutenant Anderlik moved briskly through the confusion and Grisha had to pay attention to his guide rather than gawk at the activity around him. After traversing a second bay they emerged into the hot California afternoon.

A topless military vehicle with an enlisted driver sat idling while two officers leaned against it, smoking and chatting. When Grisha appeared both men stiffened to attention and saluted. The major remained silent while the colonel spoke.

"Good afternoon, Colonel Grigorievich. I'm Colonel Buhrman, commander of the Third PIR. You'll be riding with us. This is my exec, Major Coffey."

"I'm pleased to meet both of you, and grateful for the ride, not to mention deeply appreciative of your aid."

"Aw hell, we've always wanted to see Alaska," Colonel Buhrman said.

"We hear the fishing is fantastic," Major Coffey added.

"Once we kick the Czar out, I'll be happy to take you fishing," Grisha said. "I know a lot of good spots."

They rode three blocks to an airfield where a row of transports were filling up with men. Grisha noticed that every trooper carried far more than did his soldiers back home. To a man they looked formidable and menacing.

"How many are going north?" he asked.

"Nine hundred and sixty on this flight and we have the Fourth PIR in ready reserve if we need them."

"The last I heard there were over twenty-four hundred Russians heading toward our lines from two different directions."

"They aren't there yet, Colonel," Major Coffey said. "We also have-"

Three waves of five fighters buzzed over the field in tight formation. The paratroopers lined up outside their transports cheered and waved.

"-them," Coffey finished. "Those are P-61 Eureka long range fighters of the 117th Attack Squadron who will provide cover for us and then seek out targets of opportunity once in the combat zone."

Grisha couldn't stop grinning. "This is great!"

They pulled to up the lead transport.

Colonel Buhrman looked over at Grisha. "Going-"

A scout car roared up and screeched to a stop. Colonel Benny Jackson stepped to the tarmac. He nodded at the other two R.O.C. officers. "Del, Joe, glad to see good people are going north with me."

"You're going north?" Grisha said.

"Yeah, they're letting me take a Special Forces strike force to get your ass out of the jam we helped put you in."

"Benny," Colonel Buhrman said with a grin, "you're going with us, not the other way around."

"Sure, Del, whatever you say."

Colonel Buhrman looked at Grisha and motioned to the transports. "Going my way, Colonel?"

70

St. Anthony Redoubt

"Colonel Romanov, the last of General Myslosovich's supply train has left the area."

"Thank you, Sergeant Severin. Let us enjoy the silence for a while before we bring Captain Kobelev's motorized scout unit back to the garrison."

Romanov stepped to the window and opened the blinds. He loved this place more than he had loved any other thing in his life. Most of his men thought of their posting to St. Anthony Redoubt as punishment, but not him.

The Delta River joined the Tanana River less than a kilometer from his office. The redoubt enjoyed a view that few appreciated. Stepan Romanov felt drawn to this country.

Despite his aristocratic name, Roaanov's grandmother was a Yakut from Siberia and he held deep sympathies for the Dená. He tried to keep his attitudes to himself, but others had noticed.

A visiting colonel once asked for an Indian woman for the night.

Stepan had frowned. "I'm not a whoremonger, colonel, you'll have to solicit for yourself."

"You do not know women who-"

"No. You'll have to ask one of the privates."

Thankfully, the colonel let the matter drop. Romanov would not allow his men to molest the local women or mistreat any of the civilian population. He preached brotherhood to his troops and had a corporal lashed within inches of his life for beating an old Athabascan man.

Now this stupid war has made a hash of everything
, he thought. Not that he blamed the Dená. In fact he felt they were right: the Czar and his ancestors had caused limitless suffering in Alaska and the time for change had long since passed.

Colonel Romanov glanced up guiltily at his sergeant to see if the man had interpreted his silence correctly. The sergeant was staring out of the other window at the same view.

Romanov grinned, then eased back into his military role.

"Very well, Sergeant Severin, notify Captain Kobelev to bring his people in, we have room for them now."

71

Russia-Canada Highway, East of Chena

General Taras Myslosovich pulled idly on his white mustache until the scout finished his report. His jowls shook as he turned to Bear Crepov sitting next to him in the command car. "They only shoot from concealment, like the brigands back home?"

"Yes, they are animals without courage. They cannot stand up to the might of the Imperial Army, so they attack like coyotes in the night." Bear kept his eyes in constant movement as the column clanked up the RustyCan. The Dená could be anywhere.

His loathing for the Indians barely eclipsed his hatred of the Russians. Fate had dealt him a deadly hand. The Russians didn't trust him and the Indians had put the price of five hundred California dollars on his head.

The Dená bounty was the only thing that kept the Russians from shooting him outright for leaving Valari behind at Chena Redoubt. They thought he should have died to save her, the two-faced bastards, after they had bombed the place flat! He spat out the window of the command car.

"Perhaps war is not to your taste, woodsman," the fat old general said, barely concealing a sneer.

"The way you wage war is not to my liking," Crepov said. "The Indians have already proven they can destroy your fancy machines, whether they fly or crawl. We should be advancing quietly through the forest to surprise them in their beds."

"Reconnaissance shows they have fortified the road at Chena Redoubt as well as the bridge over the Yukon. Infantry, no matter how brave or skilled, cannot take positions like that without armor or air support." General Myslosovich pulled on his walrus mustache again. Squinting at Bear, he continued with an air of condescension.

"When you have fought as many battles for the Motherland as I have, understanding tactics will become as instinctual as mating with a woman." He broke into hoarse laughter. "And it can be a damn sight more fulfilling!"

Bear watched the old man crumple into a coughing fit. He felt doomed. This fool was like all the others.

Bear didn't think the Imperial Army had won a major engagement since the Great War. As far as he knew the troops had spent the past forty years balanced on the backs of the people of Russian Amerika.