Claude Adams raised his hand. Nathan nodded.
“If we rely on assistance from the Lower Nine, we are merely changing masters. This has to be a predominantly Dená operation or we are doomed to another century of servitude.”
“But if we throw off the yoke of the Czar,” Ambrose Ambrose said, “what is to be expected in return? Can we back a military operation where the army we field takes over our lives and rules by force?”
“Your fantasies are entertaining, but have nothing to do with reality,” Nathan said with heat. “For what purpose would you suggest that our army might subjugate us all?”
“For the most ancient of reasons, Mr. Speaker: power,” Claude said, fervor in his voice. “Once power is won there are few men big enough or honorable enough to surrender the scepter. This is not a concept to be ignored.”
“Nor is it a concept we should waste time with now,” Joanne Kaiser, the lithe delegate from St. Anthony said. “We can decide later how we will rule ourselves, first we have to have something to rule!” Fredrik Seetamoona rose to his feet and waited for a chance to speak.
“Every speaker here has brought up subjects that must be dealt with before we can become a nation. But the lovely lady is correct in her inference that we have nothing yet to rule. I live but a few versts, sorry, kilometers, from Bridge.
“I know how massive the garrison is in that place, I know we must mount an overwhelming assault in order to hold Bridge in order to deny more Russian armor from passing into the land of the Dená, the land of my mother. Therefore I implore you to first fight this war and then argue about politics. We have no time to waste.” He sat down.
The room remained silent for nearly a full minute.
Nicole Grey, the Tanana delegate, spoke first. “First things first. What we going to use as bait for this attack on their air force?”
“How about their own radio?” Grisha suggested.
“Excellent idea,” Nathan said from the head of the table.
“But where?” Alexandr Titus asked.
“I’ve asked our military people that very question,” Nathan said. “Will you hear their answer?”
Every delegate nodded.
“Slayer-of-Men, would you share what the military has decided?”
The tall warrior stood. “I am honored. There is only one place that is midway between the aerodromes at Teslin Redoubt and Fort Yukon.” He walked over to the wall map of Russian Amerika and tapped it. “Right here. Of course it helps that we have those three antiaircraft batteries dug in around the target area.”
A few delegates laughed; most were thoughtful.
“That’s our recommendation.”
“Does the council agree?” Nathan asked.
It did.
Nathan rubbed his hands together. “Now we have to choose which Russian redoubts in the Dená Republik we will attack and in what order.”
“Hit them one at a time?” Ambrose Ambrose asked sharply.
“Yes, but all over the Republik. Say first we hit Chena and then two days later we hit St. Anthony. If we can keep them off balance for a week or two, we might even achieve diplomatic recognition from other countries.
“There are silent allies in many North American governments who would advocate for us as soon as we make our cause more than small guerilla actions. But we will have to hold what we take to make us viable in their eyes. The most important thing is that nobody in this room says anything to anybody outside this room about what is said here. People like to talk and we can’t let that happen.”
Grisha spotted Haimish McCloud on the other side of the gallery. The small man wore a sardonic smile.
“Do we have enough people to hit all the redoubts at once?” Tanana’s Nicole Grey asked.
“We’d have the element of surprise but hitting everywhere at once would spread our forces far too thin, especially since we have to consolidate our victories. Our army is not large.” Nathan stared around the table.
“We have to use deception and fight with everything we have, otherwise we’ll fail and the Czar will see all of us dead. We are fighting for our lives. If we lose this war, the Russians will kill every one of us. The lucky ones will die fast.”
“Okay,” Alexandr Titus said firmly, “how do we go about this?”
“First we identify the targets, and then we decide how to reduce them to rubble.”
“Please explain to me that air force ambush,” Gnady said.
Nathan moved to the large map on the wall. “If we put the transmitter here…” He tapped the paper where Slayer-of-Men had indicated. “…with our three antiaircraft guns ringing the target—” He drew a circle on the map. “—and put a few dozen Kalashnikovs here, here and here…”
“You think they’re gonna send all their planes?” Joshua Golovin from Chena asked.
“What if this don’t work?” Ambrose Ambrose asked.
Two more hours of debate changed nothing. After the assembly officially ended, most stayed in the room, talking about points on which they differed.
Grisha moved out into the night and stared up at the aurora borealis. Someone moved beside him and he glanced over to see Wing. She looked up at the northern lights.
“My granny used to say they could come down and cut your head off if you made too much noise when they were out.”
“Did you believe her?” Grisha asked, glancing up uneasily.
“No. But I knew she believed it, so I didn’t argue.”
Grisha felt a rush of desire for her. The memory of her quick kiss weeks ago burned in his mind. He kept his gaze fixed on the glowing ions above, wondering what to do.
She moved closer to him.
“I think I should go back in,” he said softly.
“Why?”
“Because if I don’t, I’m going to grab you and kiss you.” He looked at her then and her large brown eyes seemed to envelop him.
“That’s exactly what I want you to do. But that’s all you can do.”
“Okay,” he said, pulling her close.
Singly, in pairs, and small groups, the delegates left for their villages or joined the companies of volunteers raised by every village along the Yukon, Kuskokwim, Melosi, Black, Koyukuk, Porcupine, Stewart, and Tanana Rivers. Momentum for independence from the Czar built slowly but never faltered.
27
Tetlin Redoubt, January 1988
“Major Kominskiya, we’re getting that carrier wave again.”
Valari slapped down papers that eluded comprehension and smiled at the corporal in the doorway.
“Are you able to determine its location?” she said, elation in her voice.
“We radioed St. Nicholas and Chena Redoubt for a triangulation fix. We should have something within a half hour.”
“Excellent!” She shot to her feet. “I’ll be in the general’s office. As soon as you have the location, inform me.”
“Yes, Major.” He saluted and vanished down the hallway.
She studied her appearance in the full-length mirror behind her office door. The uniform accentuated her slimness and the sharp creases mirrored the planes in her face. Deciding she looked competent and powerful, she marched smartly down the tiled corridor to her commanding officer’s anteroom.
The tall, blond, rugged Cossack sergeant fastened his blue eyes on her face when she entered the room. He stood and saluted.
“Good afternoon, Major Kominskiya.” After she returned the salute he sat down. “How may I serve you?”
The code amused her. More than one quiet afternoon had been passed in each other’s arms. She smiled and shook her head slightly. “I need to see General Posivich, now.”
“Ah, I see.” The sergeant stood again. “If you’ll have a seat, I’ll see what I can do.” He stepped through the door behind his desk and closed it after him.
Valari Kominskiya sat and speculated on the signal’s reappearance. After the costly attack on Toklat seven weeks ago, the carrier wave had stopped. She and others th
ought perhaps Lieutenant Rezanov had finally been killed in the attack even though no bodies were found when the Troika Guard investigated the site.
A squad had been dispatched to bring in his body when they thought him killed the first time near the Toklat. But they found nothing and she knew they had been victims of a charade. The memory of their last meeting still smarted; Grisha would pay for that one if it was the last thing he did.
Perhaps the radio had been tripped accidentally? she wondered. And was Rezanov still part of the DSM or merely going native and running a trap line or something equally droll? Or was it another deception?
“Major?”
She jerked in surprise and stared at the sergeant. “Yes?”
“The general will see you now. He has very little time.”
She hurried through the door and knocked on the polished wood at the end of the small hallway.
“Come.”
She entered, stood at attention and saluted. “Thank you for your time, General.”
“Have a seat, Major.” The commander of Tetlin Redoubt waved grandly and Valari settled into a padded chair. “What is it that has brought such color to your lovely face?”
“The radio has resumed transmitting a carrier wave. We are triangulating its exact position as I speak.”
Posivich frowned in concentration for a moment. “Is this the same signal that brought our aircraft to Toklat?”
“Yes, sir. I suspect our turncoat lieutenant has accidentally switched it on.”
His steady gaze unnerved her. Reading his eyes proved impossible.
“Perhaps the lieutenant and your sea captain have prepared another trap for our forces? No?”
She opened her mouth to disagree before realizing she had not thought it all out. “I, I don’t know.”
“It is something we should give careful consideration, Major Kominskiya. What action did you have in mind?”
“Ah, well, I was going to ask your opinion before promulgating any plans, General Posivich.”
His grin glinted like steel. “You are very quick, Major, I like that in an officer. I will make no judgments. So, what was your first reaction when you received word of the signal’s resumption?”
She smiled ruefully. “I wished to make an immediate attack with our wing of Yaks. Frankly, I feel that it is beyond the talents of the rebels to successfully carry off an operation that could withstand the strength of an entire squadron.”
“The idea is far-fetched, I agree,” the general said amiably. “But so was the notion that they could shoot down helicopter gunships with hunting rifles.”
“True,” she said in a low voice.
A discreet knock sounded at the door and the sergeant pushed through.
“Excuse me, General, but the major wished this information as soon as we received it.” He handed a sheet of paper to Valari.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” they said in unison.
She stared at the paper.
“So where is the signal located?”
She looked up at him with a frown. “About sixty kilometers north of Chena Redoubt, at Chatanika Crossing, very close to the road.”
“Perhaps they expect us to send in ground forces, since the signal is so close to the road,” the general said.
“They wouldn’t be expecting a flight of fighters to hit them and their puny trap,” Valari said.
“I hope for the pilots’ sake it is not an ambush.” The general’s voice had turned as steely as his grin. “But I have a hidden pawn; those savages won’t know what hit them!”
28
Tetlin Imperial Aerodome
Twelve Yaks roared into the air, following their flight leader and his wing man. Major Valari Kominskiya watched them buzz toward Chatanika Crossing until they blended into the sky. She hurried back into the radio room where General Posivich sat on a reversed chair, his chin resting on crossed arms.
“Have a seat, Major.” He nodded toward a metal folding chair. She sat.
The speaker crackled and all eyes in the room focused on it. “This is Talon One, do you read me, Tetlin?”
“Yes, podpolkovnik. We read you clear and loud,” said the corporal with the headset.
“Acknowledged. Talon Four, take your group and reconnoiter the target zone.”
“Yes, sir. Talon Four, out.”
Valari let her eyes slide over to the general. He sat with his face buried in his arms. A small sliver of anxiety worked its way into her composure.
“Talon One, this is Talon Four. We see only a cabin in a clearing. Over.”
“Are there signs of habitation, Talon Four?”
“Yes, podpolkovnik. Smoke is coming out of the chimney.”
“Tetlin, this is Talon One, did you copy our transmission?”
“Tetlin copies, Talon One,” the corporal said. “Over.”
“What are your orders?”
Valari glanced over at the general. He stared back at her. The corporal carefully looked to the lieutenant in charge of the radio room.
“Lieutenant?”
The lieutenant merely stared at the general.
“Your orders, General?” he said, standing at attention.
“Tell them to destroy the cabin,” Posivich said. “I want to be through with this transmitting turncoat once and for all.” He lowered his face back into his folded arms.
The corporal relayed the order.
“Talon Four, your people go first, Talon Eight goes next, then Georgi and me,” the wing commander said. “Talon Six, you hold over the Tanana.”
Terse acknowledgements crackled.
Valari felt her pulse quicken. Everyone else in the radio room seemed to be asleep. She felt like screaming.
“Direct hit, Talon Five. Good shooting.” The voice sounded laconic, disinterested.
“Antiaircraft fire!” a voice blurted.
“Identify yours—”
“It’s coming up from all sides!” a different, youthful voice shouted, breaking on the last word.
“Gain altitude! Get above it.”
“They’re bracketing us on all sides!”
“Andronivich just crashed, Talon One.”
“This is Talon Three, I’ve spotted one of the gun positions. I’m going in after it.”
“Where is it, Talon Three?”
Crackling dead air filled the room. Valari felt sweat running down her temples and wiped at it as unobtrusively as possible.
“Talon Three! Talon Three! Pull up, pull up—”
“Jesus, he crashed into the gun,” a youthful voice said with evident awe.
“Tetlin, this is Talon One. We have lost two aircraft and the rest have sustained damage. We have destroyed one antiaircraft emplacement but are unable to locate others due to the amount of flak and smoke in the area.”
“Tell them to return to base,” General Posivich said wearily.
“Return to base,” the corporal said into the microphone.
“Sergei’s on fire,” someone said in a tight voice. “He’s going down.”
“There’s his chute, at least he made it out alive,” another pilot said.
“This is Talon One, return to base. I repeat: return to base.”
“Yes, podpolkovnik.” The voice sounded relieved.
Valari felt nauseous and bewildered. Where had they obtained antiaircraft guns? Rezanov, with Grisha and his damned Indians, had suckered her and the Imperial Russian Air Force. The Dená were amassing quite the butcher’s bill, and she could hardly wait for the day it came due.
“Major,” the general said heavily, “your bright ideas have cost us a wealth of aircraft. Unless your ‘special operation’ bears successful fruit very soon, you’re going to find yourself in the field like a common trooper.”
“Send in the Troika Guard,” she said quickly, hoping he would agree.
“Send them into a trap?” Posivich radiated hostility. “If the damned Indians can blow fighters out of the air they can no doubt handle a few ground troo
ps.”
“The Troika Guard is an elite fighting force.” Valari’s words stumbled over themselves in her rush to get them out. “They know how to infiltrate and decimate a hostile force. They did it three years ago in Afghanistan.”
“Afghanistan doesn’t have boreal forests in which to hide rebels.”
“The other choice is to let them get away with destroying our aircraft,” Valari said in a low voice.
“My first act of retribution is almost over the traitors,” Posivich said, eyes gleaming.
“General?” Valari said.
“Switch to Combat IV,” the general ordered.
The radioman complied.
“…over the Yukon-Tanana junction.” The voice sounded muffled, the speaker was talking in a small space. “Target dead ahead. We see smoke rising from where the fighters attacked.”
“More fighters?” Valari asked.
“Bombers!” General Posivich said with a sinister chuckle.
“Bombs away!” the muffled voice said.
“The Indians aren’t the only ones who can plan an ambush, major,” he said, smiling widely.
Glancing over at the burning pyre that had once been a Yak fighter and an antiaircraft gun, Lieutenant Sergei Muraviev stood calmly with his parachute bunched in his arms as the four men approached him with leveled rifles.
“Do you speak the English?” a sergeant asked.
“Somewhat better than you do,” Sergei said with smile.
The sergeant scowled, made a prodding motion with his rifle. “Raise your hands!”
Sergei sighed and dropped the chute. The constant light breeze caught it and it started to billow.
“Gawd dammit!” the sergeant snapped at one of the privates with him.
“Secure that damned parachute!”
“You should have let the lieutenant hold it, they’re difficult to use as a weapon.”
Sergei realized his captors were from two different armies.
The fourth man was totally at ease, while the men in matching uniforms seemed agitated.
“You do it your way, Lieutenant”—the sergeant actually lifted his lip in a slight sneer—“and I’ll do it mine.”
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