Alaska Republik

by Stoney Compton

  Applause rose from all quarters.

  General Grigorievich stood at attention until the applause died down.

  “I present the elected delegates to the first Alaska Republik Congress.” He called their names as they stepped up on the stage in front of the podium.

  After all twelve were called and identified, he added, “These are the first generation of lawmakers selected by the People. Honor them, and watch them carefully!”

  Laughter mixed with the applause.

  “Among these twelve, we must elect a First Speaker, which falls to those present.”

  Grisha called out the names of all twelve legislators, but only two elicited more than moderate applause: Pelagian and Nathan Roubitaux.

  Once the noise died down to conversational level, Grisha announced, “By universal acclaim, the two candidates for First Speaker are Nathan Roubitaux and Pelagian Haroldsson.”

  The applause built and transcended what had gone before. Grisha wondered who was the true recipient. He saw Jerry and Magda in the crowd; they both looked radiant.

  The applause finally died down.

  “Who votes for Nathan Roubitaux?”

  Hands shot into the air and Grisha waited while official counters made a tally. Finally one waved him on.

  “Who votes for Pelagian Haroldsson?”

  It seemed to him that more hands shot up than previously, but he also realized he may have seen that which he wished to see. He rubbed his face with his left hand and waited along with the crowd for the verdict.

  He had known Nathan for a longer time but he had taken to Pelagian immediately upon meeting the man. Nathan always seemed to have an ulterior motive for everything that he did, whereas Pelagian seemed to do what was needed at the moment.

  Up on the stage the two candidates stood next to each other, smiling and staring at the crowd.

  The chief counter came over to Grisha. “General, as far as we can tell, they are within ten or twelve votes of each other. We’re going to have to do a paper ballot to make sure.”

  “I thought that would happen.” He walked back to the middle of the stage. “We can’t get an accurate count by a show of hands.”

  Somebody booed and others shushed him.

  “We have four ballot boxes ready to go and a booth at each corner of the area.” He pointed. “Look for the white flags. Each person is given a piece of paper and if you want Nathan as First Speaker write an ‘N’ on it. If you want Pelagian as First Speaker, write a ‘P’ on the paper.

  “When you put the ballot in the box, you will have the back of your right hand stamped with ink that takes a few days to wear off. You must show the back of your hand before you will receive a ballot. All right, citizens, let’s vote.”

  Pelagian turned to Nathan and held out his hand. “Good luck!”

  Nathan shook his hand and smiled. “Good luck to you, Pelagian.”

  Grisha got into the shortest line and chatted with the woman in front of him who happened to be from Sealaska.

  “This won’t sit well with people from other states, General. The crowd here is almost all Dená. I would wager there aren’t even any Aleuts at all, and damn few Tlingits other than you, me, and my husband.”

  “No argument. I doubt that our two candidates would get the same acclaim in Akku or Kodiak. But this is a beginning for us on which to build. By the next election we will have a capital city and no doubt a variety of political parties.”

  “Yes,” she said. “A lot must happen in the next four years. I think Sitka would be a good capital. It’s worked for three centuries.”

  “For the Russians,” Grisha said with a small laugh. “But all of their administrative offices were in St. Nicholas on Cook’s Inlet.”

  She smiled. “Perhaps we need regional capitals.”

  “You may have something there. You’re next to vote.”

  131

  150 meters from the platform, Tanana

  Timothy Riordan decided that Bachmann had been barking mad if he thought thirty men could stop this government thing with the Indians. Yet here he was, twenty feet off the ground in a tree, rifle with telescopic sights and all. He had seen his old guest, Pelagian, through the scope.

  If it had been Bodecia, I probably would have fired!

  The thought made him grin. He actually admired her even though she had been nothing but a pain in the ass for him. He suspected the attack on his camp had been a direct result of his capture of the three of them.

  He winced at the memory of how little he had regarded the military prowess of the Dená. The Russians were what he feared then.

  Good old 20-20 hindsight.

  He glanced down at N’go, stationed at the bottom of the tree in a clump of bushes. The huge black man was staring at something in the opposite direction of the village.

  Riordan twisted around to see if he could spot the distraction. His sphincter clenched when he saw the line of armed men moving slowly downslope toward him approximately five hundred meters away. They kept a six-or seven-meter distance between them, and if he could see six men there were probably more.

  How did they know he was out here? Did they know he was out here? Perhaps this was just a security patrol?

  No, that’s too organized for this lot. Even the Freekorps wasn’t this military.

  He knew he had to move; they would be here in less than ten minutes. He untied the rope holding him in place. It went over the limb above him and was firmly tied to the harness he wore.

  With a flick of his wrist the coiled rope dropped and the end landed next to N’go, who looked up and nodded. Carefully, Riordan slowly slid his butt off the branch and eased himself down the tree, inch by laboriously slow inch. Quicker movement would catch the wrong eyes.

  Applause erupted in the village. The Alaska Republik had its first president, or whatever they called it. He wondered which of the men won the vote.

  A quote by Ben Franklin surfaced from somewhere in his memory: “We have built a republic, gentlemen, we must endeavor to keep it if we can.”

  Riordan shook his head. I don’t have time for this kind of crap; I must be losing my mind!

  N’go grabbed his ankle and steadied him as he lowered the last couple of feet. He pulled the rope over the limb and caught it when it dropped from the tree.

  “We gotta get out of here, my friend,” he whispered.

  “They have us hemmed in,” N’go whispered back. “All we can do is hide in this bush and hope they don’t see us.”

  More applause sounded from the village. An amplified voice said something and more applause drowned it out.

  One of the men coming through the trees yelled, “Okay, guys, let’s wrap this up and join the party!”

  The men dropped discipline and all hurried toward the village.

  Riordan and N’go both huddled on top of their weapons, hoping their camouflaged clothing would blend with the shadows in the clump of bushes.

  Out of the corner of his eye Riordan saw the boots of the man closest to them as he hurried past. The men had not found them; he and N’go were safe.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Riordan whispered. “We have a long way to travel before we can stop looking over our shoulders.”

  “Agreed!” N’go mumbled.

  They crawled out of the bushes and, watching the men hurry toward the village, stood up to stretch.

  “Drop the rifles or you’re dead!” a voice ordered.

  N’go released his weapon and raised his hands.

  “Shit,” Riordan said as he let his rifle fall into the decomposing leaves from last year. He looked around. “Oh hell, not you!”

  Yukon Cassidy, Roland Delcambré, and Colonel Del Buhrman all smiled, but their weapons did not waver.

  “Roland,” Cassidy said. “Would you do the honors? They’re in my pack.”

  “My most distinct pleasure!” The diminutive man handed his weapon to Colonel Buhrman and reached into the pack on Cassidy’s back. He pulled out chains.<
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  “You don’t have to do that,” Riordan said. “We’ll go quietly.”

  “Yeah, you would,” Cassidy said. “But how long would you stay? We’re not going to give you the opportunity to kill another gullible, young guard.”

  Riordan seethed inside. They might chain his arms but he could still run like the wind given the opportunity. Delcambré seemed to have an awful lot of chain for just two men.

  “Turn around and face the village,” Cassidy ordered.

  “Damn,” N’go said softly as he complied. Riordan did as ordered.

  “Riordan, put your hands behind your back.”

  Cassidy was beginning to get on his nerves.

  Metal clicked around one wrist, then the other. Both manacles were tightened to the point of pain, but he was damned if he would give them the pleasure of hearing him whine.

  “Now put your feet together!”

  Riordan’s heart sank as Delcambré snapped leg irons on his ankles just above his boots.

  So much for running. He wondered if they would hang him.

  Delcambré went to work on N’go. As a final insult, the little bastard chained him and N’go together.

  “There we are. They can shuffle but they can’t hide!”

  All three of the captors laughed.

  “Start for the village. You first, Riordan.”

  He almost fell with the first step. His feet could only move a foot from each other. Now he was very sure that he hated Yukon Cassidy and, if the tables ever turned, would kill him in an instant.

  It took forever to reach the edge of the village. A utility waited and four armed soldiers watched him hobble up to them.

  “So this is the bad-ass Riordan?”

  “That’s him, Heinrich. Do not give him a chance of any sort. He has killed two men in cold blood to escape and been the cause of the deaths of many others.”

  Heinrich looked around at his men. “You all heard the man. Now put these two where they can’t get into any more trouble.”

  The men grabbed them and threw them into the back of the utility. Two crawled into the bed with them and, once the others got into the cab, rapped on the roof. The vehicle lurched off over uneven ground throwing Cassidy and N’go about like unsecured crates.

  After an eternity of painful buffeting and slamming against the metal sides, the vehicle stopped. Riordan and N’go were slid out and pulled upright. The heavy log building boasted welded steel bars at the three windows Riordan could see.

  “Move out,” Heinrich ordered.

  “How long will we be here?” Riordan asked, biting off each word.

  “Until your trial. And after that until they hang you.”

  He felt like weeping.

  132

  Tanana, Provisional Capital of Alaska Republik

  “Mr. First Speaker, we captured Riordan and N’go. They are the first prisoners in the new jail.” Cassidy grinned. “So how do you feel, Pelagian?”

  “Euphoric and hopeful. I know this is going to be a tumultuous four years. But since we’re all brand new at it, I think we can pull it off.”

  About the Author

  Stoney Compton has had novelettes and short stories published in Universe 1, Tomorrow, Speculative Fiction, Writers of the Future Vol. IX and Jim Baen’s Universe. His novel, Russian Amerika (Baen Books), was published in 2007, and Alaska Republik is the sequel.

  He is a native of Grand Island, Nebraska. He served an enlistment in the U.S. Navy where he had the honor of being a crew member on USS Yorktown, CVS-10, as well as in VR-24 Det in Naples, Italy.

  During his thirty-one years in Alaska he worked as a produce apprentice; shipping & receiving clerk; gandy dancer for the USAF/Alaska Railroad; emergency firefighter for BLM; school bus driver; cameraman and film editor for KTVF-TV in Fairbanks; media specialist for Tanana Chiefs Health Authority; art director for Tundra Times, an Alaska Native weekly newspaper; freelance artist in Fairbanks and Juneau; and art director for KTOO-FM&TV public broadcasting for Juneau. He operated Ptarmigan Ptransport & Ptours in Juneau, was a Motorcoach Commander for Princess Tours, and worked for the Alaska Departments of Fish & Game, and Health & Social Services. For a year and a half he worked for the National Oceanic & Atmospheric Administration at the Alaska Fisheries Science Center in Seattle. His fine art has been in juried shows from New York to Hawai’i, and Alaska to California.

  He now lives in the Las Vegas, Nevada, metro area with his wife Colette, their ever-changing number of cats, and Pullo, their energetic Australian Blue Heeler. He is an avid hiker and velocipede enthusiast. He is a Visual Information Specialist at the 6th Combat Training Squadron, Nellis AFB, Nevada.