Alaska Republik

by Stoney Compton

  “Aha!” He pulled a handle and the canopy popped back a few inches.

  Colonel Buhrman tried to climb up on the wing stump and the fuselage rolled toward him, pushed by the wind. He scrambled to keep on his feet.

  “Well, damn!”

  “Pull the canopy back,” Smolst yelled over the cutting wind.

  Buhrman grabbed the canopy and jerked it aft. The wind caught it and ripped it free of the fuselage and whirled into the air over their heads. It disappeared in the blowing snow.

  Jerry sat hunched over in the cockpit, completely covered by the wolf pelt parka.

  Magda scrambled up to him and pulled the hood back.

  “Jerry! Jerry, are you all right?”

  He stirred as if deep in sleep. One eye cracked open.

  “M-Magda? Is that really you?” He sounded weak and disoriented.

  She felt tears well up. “Of course it is, you silly man!”

  A long gust of wind blew a shower of snow crystals over them and Magda tried to cover his face.

  Buhrman, Smolst, Georgi, and the two dog mushers all helped pull him free of the wrecked plane and carried him to the helicopter. Without stopping, they slid him into an insulated sleeping bag brought for that purpose.

  “Can we go now?” Magda asked. “I want to marry this guy before he gets away from me again.”

  “I feel warmer already,” Jerry mumbled deep in the sleeping bag.

  126

  Klahotsa on the Yukon

  “So the whole idea is to shoot as many elected officials as possible when they are presented to the public?” Riordan asked.

  “Exactly. Think about it. It would devastate everyone there. Chaos would reign. All it would take is a voice of authority to bring them into line.”

  “And that would be you, right?”

  “Who else, Mr. Riordan?”

  “That’s Major Riordan, thank you.”

  “Of course.”

  “Even if they have no idea in hell as to who you are?”

  “Won’t matter. Pass me the bottle, please.”

  Riordan regarded the whisky bottle as if it were a relic.

  “I think it may be empty,” he announced, and threw the bottle over his shoulder with force.

  It smashed against something.

  “Hell, I can fix that,” Bachmann said. He pulled himself out of his chair and staggered behind the bar. “Let’s have the good stuff. Nobody ever buys it anyway.”

  “When do I get paid?” Riordan asked.

  “For what?”

  “For being the officer in charge of your troopers. Whattya think?”

  Silence reigned and Riordan twisted around to peer at Bachmann on the other side of the store.

  “But you got them all killed. Why should I pay you anything?”

  Riordan suppressed the instant flash of rage. He willed it to evaporate like dew on a sunny morning. This was important.

  “Who was in charge of this entire plan?” Riordan asked as nonchalantly as possible.

  “Well, I was.”

  “So whose orders did I follow to the letter, like it or not?”

  “Mine?”

  “Exactly. It was your plan that got them all killed, not mine.”

  “But you led them—”

  “Following your orders, doing exactly what you ordered and exactly when you ordered it!”

  Silence drifted through the store.

  “What did we agree on?”

  “Two hundred fifty in gold,” Riordan said.

  “Stay where you are. I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure.”

  As soon as he heard the office door close, Riordan leapt to his feet and hurried to the back of the store. He eased the door open and through the crack saw Bachmann opening a door built into the wall of the building.

  I would have never found that.

  He pulled out his pistol, opened the door, and stepped into the office.

  Bachmann whirled about and yelled, “I told you to wait!”

  “Too late,” Riordan said, and shot him through the head.

  127

  Over the Yukon River

  “Colonel Buhrman,” Ivan said from the pilot’s seat, “there is a radio message for you.” He handed him the headset.

  “Buhrman here, go ahead.”

  They all could hear the crackle of the voice in the earphones but none of the words were intelligible.

  “Does that tally with our body count? Okay. I’m sure Captain Fedorov told you we found Jerry. He’s cold but he’s alive. Thanks, Buhrman out.”

  He handed the headset back and turned to the others.

  “Our people have accounted for every one of the attackers except for Riordan and his buddy, N’go. The store at Klahotsa was empty except for the body of Bachmann. Someone shot him in the head at close range.”

  “When thieves fall out …” Smolst muttered.

  “But where the hell are they going to find shelter in this weather?” Buhrman asked.

  128

  Klahotsa

  “I have heard nothing for hours, Tim,” N’go said.

  “Me neither. But it could be a trap.”

  “Let me go look. This tiny room is crushing my soul.”

  Riordan pushed the safety off his weapon and slowly turned the latch on the door. He eased it open and only darkness greeted them. The door made no sound; Bachmann had kept the hinges of his secret vault well oiled.

  Riordan pulled out the tiny torch he always carried and aimed it at the floor before he switched it on. They had moved Bachmann’s body, but his blood lay frozen in a small pond where he had died.

  “Don’t slip,” he murmured to N’go.

  The large man flashed a smile and nodded before he moved out into the office. He inched the office door open and waited. Silence reigned.

  Abruptly N’go slipped through the door and into the general store. Riordan hurried to the door and waited a long moment before sliding through the narrow opening. His heart thudded in his chest while he waited for a shot or a command to surrender.

  “There is nobody here, Tim.” N’go’s voice was as soft as a lover’s whisper.

  “We need to check outside.”

  Riordan went out the side door and nearly fell over something in the path. After a full minute of frantically searching the area without moving anything other than his head, he knelt and moved the blanket away from Bachmann’s frozen face. The man still looked angry.

  N’go eased around the front corner of the building.

  “They all left in the lorry that brought them.” He nodded at the covered form. “That be Bachmann?”

  “Yeah. Probably put him out here to keep him cold.”

  “I would wager they will not return until warmer weather.”

  “Good,” Riordan said through his sudden grin. “That gives us somewhere to live for a couple of months.”

  129

  Tanana, Provisional Capital of the Alaska Republik

  “Where did you get flowers in the middle of winter?” Bodecia asked.

  “Colonel Shipley brought them from California on the transport,” Magda said as she peered into the mirror and edged the garland of woven flowers slightly to the right. “Is that straight now?”

  “It’s fine, now leave it alone. That transport was jammed with boxes and people. It was nice of the RCAF to stop and pick us up; don’t know how we would have made it otherwise.”

  Bodecia admired their similar dresses in the mirror. Both were made of split moosehide so thin it could have passed for silk. The hide had been worked until attaining a pearl sheen. The beadwork on both enhanced their individual forms. A band of beads began at the neck, ran down the slope of the shoulders and dropped to the end of the short sleeves and then continued from the armpit to the hem on both of them.

  Bodecia’s dress featured intricate florets across her bosom that seemed to twist and drop to the midriff. Magda’s dress featured a jagged, lightninglike design that shot out from
the band beneath the armpits and curved down and across her midriff as if to hold up her bosom. Both dresses were stunning in their simplicity and rich from the beadwork.

  Nobody can bead better than an Athabascan woman! Bodecia thought.

  “General Grigorievich asked Colonel Shipley to stop for you. I’m glad he agreed. But I was surprised to see Rudi.”

  “He said he wouldn’t miss this wedding for all the gold in St. Petersburg, even if he did have to take his life in his hands and fly here.”

  “Is everything ready? How much time do we have left? Are the—”

  “Magda! Calm down. Everything will be fine. You have to trust that all is going according to plan.”

  Wing hurried through the door; her flushed cheeks set off the sparkle in her eyes. “Are you ready, Magda? There are a lot of people out there waiting for you.”

  Magda turned from the mirror and stared at Wing. “Did they do a good job with the hangar? I always thought I would get married in a church!”

  “Oh, my dear, just wait until you see it. What they have done out there couldn’t be attempted in any church I’ve ever seen. And you look so beautiful!” Wing’s facial muscles twitched and Bodecia realized she barely maintained her composure.

  Bodecia felt so full of emotion she couldn’t speak. Her only child, her wonderfully close friend for so many years, was going to leave her house now. This was a natural thing, even a needed thing, she knew that, but it still didn’t dampen the ache in her heart.

  How can something be so right and yet so painful at the same time?

  Through the wall came the strains of fiddles, accompanied by at least two flutes, a balalaika, and William Williams’ accordion. Bodecia had to concentrate for a moment before she recognized “Blue Skies of California,” the RCAF anthem. How on Earth had William got his accordion clear up here?

  “That’s our cue, ladies,” Wing said brightly, stifling a slight sniff.

  “Mother?” Magda said, holding out her hand.

  Bodecia moved next to her daughter, carefully held her face in both hands, and drew her face down so she could kiss her cheek.

  “I am so proud of you, Lieutenant Magda Anton Haroldsson, and I love you with all my heart. Now let’s go begin your future.”

  She took Magda’s arm and they walked through the door held open by Wing and into the largest hangar at Tanana Aerodrome. Immediately the organ segued into “Lower Yukon Waltz.”

  Bodecia and Magda gasped at the same time. The hangar had been transformed into a military fairy tale.

  Two gleaming P-61s had been parked at an angle to each other and festooned with ribbons and long ropes of braided flowers that crisscrossed in a net pattern. The ribbons and braided flowers from each aircraft met over a small dais that was flanked by the flag of the Republic of California on one side and the new Alaska Republik flag on the other. Behind the aircraft were deployed white silk parachutes lending the suggestion of clouds.

  Vivid floral bouquets lined the carpeted aisle that stretched from where they entered to the dais behind which stood Pelagian in a formal suit so ancient he looked like an illustration in a fashion history book.

  “Where did he get that suit, Mother?” Magda whispered out of the side of her mouth.

  “He’s had it for years. Where I don’t know, else I would have destroyed it and found him a new one,” Bodecia whispered back. She could feel Magda laughing but nobody else seemed to notice.

  Pelagian seemed to be a mélange of emotions. Bodecia could see his pride in a wonderful daughter, his happiness for her happiness, the fear that her safety was now out of his control (as if it ever was under his control!), the honor he felt for being the master of ceremony on this memorable occasion; and yet there was something else.

  It took her a moment to recognize his use of theater in this ceremony. Bodecia felt her throat tighten and willed it to relax. Pelagian knew if he made a hash of this for any political reason, he would never live it down in his own home.

  That gave her a sense of peace and she walked the carpet with her daughter between rows of folding chairs mostly occupied by military from a number of nations on one side and a wonderful assemblage of Aleuts, Athabascans, Kolosh, Haidas, Yup’iks, Sioux, Cheyenne, Pawnee, Tsimpshean, Malemiut, and other Peoples she did not recognize, all in their best regalia.

  During the Russian surrender at Delta, one of Colonel Buhrman’s men had taken a photo of Magda, surrounded by her exhausted troops, looking behind her at the sudden appearance of the Republic of California Army and the men under Lieutenant Colonel Smolst. Not yet aware they were allies, her expression is one of combined disbelief, despair, and anguish. Once the photo was printed in the Sacramento Bee with the caption “Beauty among the beasts,” it went all over the world.

  Magda immediately became the face of the Alaskan War of Independence. She felt embarrassed by all the undeserved attention, but Pelagian said there was no harm in being lauded, especially when it kept their struggling nation in the eyes of the world. Her promotion to first lieutenant for her actions in the Battle of Delta gave her pride.

  Bodecia thought her daughter deserved every ounce of praise that came her way. Ahead of them, Jerry stood in full uniform to the left of the dais. Rudi stood beside him wearing an impeccably tailored Russian Army uniform displaying his old Russian Command Sergeant Major rank complete with five rows of impressive decorations. She thought both men looked very handsome and striking.

  They arrived at the dais and Bodecia released her daughter’s arm. Magda gave Jerry a dazzling smile. Pelagian cleared his throat.

  “Family and friends, we have come together today to hear these two people pledge their troth to each other. As witnesses we sanctify and give their union recognition so they may face the future together with honor. Both Jerry and Magda have prepared their own vows.

  “Jerry, tell your bride what you vow.”

  Jerry turned to Rudi and took a ring that he slid onto Magda’s finger as he spoke. He stared into Magda’s face and Bodecia saw he was close to busting with emotion.

  “I pledge you my love, my fidelity, my trust, my fortune, and my unending companionship from this moment forward. You are my dream come true, my future ennobled and blessed. I vow to always stay with you in heart, mind, and body through all trials, tribulations, and blessings. I love you without reservation.”

  Pelagian had to clear his throat. “Magda, tell your groom what you vow.”

  Bodecia carefully put the ring into her hand. Magda took Jerry’s hand and slid the ring firmly on before she spoke.

  “I will always love you for the man you are, for the warrior you have become, and the protector you promise. I vow you my faithfulness, my support, my strength, and all my love. You have given my heart limitless horizons and a new world to explore by your side. I thank you for your honesty, your fidelity, and the hope that rages within me for our life together.”

  “What these two people have pledged today, let no one doubt or deny.” Pelagian sounded hoarse. “Jerry, you may kiss your bride.”

  Bodecia noticed that the ensuing cheer made the parachutes ripple. Then she had to wipe her tears.

  General Grigorievich stood and seven other officers, some RCAF and some ARA, all in full dress uniform, also shot to their feet. The eight men had been strategically seated so that they were all an equal distance from each other. In a flash there were two rows of four standing at attention facing the newlyweds.

  “Center face,” Grisha ordered. The two rows now faced each other.

  “Arch sabers.” With a fluid motion all eight of them pulled sabers from their scabbards, and as they lifted turned their blades in a clockwise motion so the sharp edge presented skyward and created an arch of brilliant steel.

  Jerry and Magda walked back down the aisle, their smiles nearly as bright as the honor through which they walked. As soon as they passed the last two men, Grisha said, “Carry sabers.”

  All blades returned to their scabbards.

 
; “Rear face.”

  The eight men pivoted and followed the happy couple.

  “They had to have practiced that a lot,” Bodecia said to Pelagian who had come up beside her.

  All of the other witnesses in the hangar broke into applause.

  Abruptly the parachutes rose like so many curtains to reveal long tables filled with food and drink. In the center was a three-tier wedding cake.

  Jerry and Magda leisurely ambled over to the cake and waited as their guests left their chairs and surrounded them.

  Bodecia took hold of Pelagian’s arm and pulled him over to where a somewhat bewildered couple stood slightly away from the others.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Yamato, would you please come with us?”

  Both nodded and smiled.

  “I’ve never seen a wedding quite like this one,” Mrs. Yamato said.

  “Me either,” Bodecia said with a chuckle. “Magda and her friends planned part of it and Jerry and his friends planned the other part.”

  “Let me guess,” Mr. Yamato said. “Jerry and his pals came up with the sword part.”

  Pelagian chuckled. “Actually, General Grigorievich and Colonel Buhrman planned that part. Jerry and the other pilots of the 117th designed the aircraft displays and the parachute curtains.”

  “We have very talented children,” Mrs. Yamato observed.

  “Yes,” Bodecia said. “We are truly blessed.”

  They all watched as Jerry and Magda cut the cake with Jerry’s saber. Then the party began.

  130

  Four Months Later

  Tanana, Provisional Capital of the Alaska Republik

  “This is a test.” The sound of the microphone rose to a shrill squeal and everyone held their hands over their ears. Warm breezes wafted through the summer afternoon beneath a flawless blue sky.

  “Sorry about that,” General Grigorievich said. “We’re all new at this stuff.”

  The huge crowd chuckled. Tanana was jammed with people from all over the Alaska subcontinent. Official requests for space were more than triple what was actually available. One local man had made his fortune selling tents at three times what he paid for them originally and renting space on his property in which to pitch them.

  “Never in the history of this planet has an event like this taken place. Much will transpire this day that will affect our lives and the lives of our children and their children. It is my incredible honor to preside over this assembly.”