Redemption (The Boris Chronicles Book 4)

by Paul C. Middleton

  They had fallen out some about twenty years ago when Boris refused to send Olaf on missions with any real danger. Things had been cordial but cool between them. It had taken a large serving of crow, but Boris was making an effort to reach out to Paul now.

  For the last twenty-five years, Paul had been responsible for arranging the critique of every operation and training exercise. He also made good use of his schooling in psychology, helping troopers deal with the effects of battle fatigue and combat stress.

  Boris longed to see the jester again, the laughing warrior he had known, but events had changed most people. He only had to look at how he had coddled his son. He shied away from the thought.

  Paul answered firmly, “Top score this year. Ninety percent. By taking the risk of using an existing and probably known roadway to circle behind the enemy force, he was able to assault a day earlier than most manage. The regulars played the wrong odds on this one. They sent their extra company to screen and ambush along the other side.”

  “His second in command organized a highly successful assault from her side after his started. By the time the third op-force company arrived, he had two companies manning the fortifications and two patrolling to trap the third company. No criticism of the third op-force company surrendering when they found ‘friendly' fortifications occupied by enemies and another force approaching their rear. It was the smart option.”

  “The only things I find fault with is the casualty rate. Twelve percent killed or wounded is on the high side, even if the ratio was weighted more heavily towards wounded than usual. Also, he should be reprimanded for throwing his command group into the fray as early as he did. It helped… this time. Most of the time, retaining the command group as both a reserve and to improve control of engaged forces is a greater advantage.”

  Boris sighed and said, “So, he’s deployable?”

  Paul laid a hand on his friend's shoulder and said, “It would be better if he were deploying as a captain or even a major. Someone who can get it stuck in. But yes, he is deployable as a lieutenant colonel. He claims he only went in with his command group due to no other unit being in position. From where they were positioned before, the fortifications reserve boiled out of the hidden bunker, it is plausible. He has been reprimanded, but he chafes at watching combat without taking part in it.”

  Boris sighed and turned his face from his friend, saying, “All Weres do, old friend.”

  Paul put a hand on Boris’s shoulder and said softly, “Boris, it is well past time he was sent into the fire. That’s the only way to find the mettle of the man you raised. We both know that. You didn’t raise a scientist or a farmer. You raised a soldier.”

  Paul paused and took a deep breath, “He’s more likely to survive than most who go into combat, thanks to his heritage. Just trust he will come home.”

  Boris nodded, but Paul could still see the fear in his body language.

  “We all carry some scars, us who lived through the Great Fall,” Boris answered softly.

  Sighing, Boris flicked his thoughts away with an odd hand movement. “I must go. The representatives will be here soon.” Paul nodded. Viktor was from all reports a psychopath. He had inherited command of the realm his father, a successful warlord, had carved out after the disaster.

  Viktor’s realm was faring poorly after they had been taken over by the psychopath. To maintain it, he’d resorted to raiding. That was causing issues for others with more stable realms. Boris, having the resources to attempt an assault on fortifications without horrendous casualties, had been asked to help by the Finnish Confederation Council.

  St Petersburg was a mix of ruined buildings, half-repaired occupied sections, and newly built docks. It would be difficult to take no matter the force. Boris needed to get his game face on for the negotiations.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Boris slammed his fist on the conference table. “No! I will not agree with your plan. You want my forces to take the brunt of the fighting and for Finland, Sweden, and Estonia to divide all the spoils,” he roared. “Go find another ally. I know that I can secure my borders—if needs be, against all your forces combined! I am willing to help, not get screwed.”

  There was silence in the room at his explosion. To be fair to Boris, they were asking for him to supply three regiments and his artillery, while the Swedes blockaded the St. Petersburg dock. In exchange, they would provide a regiment each and ‘Administer the realm.’ Boris had the strong feeling that would mean ‘squeeze the realm for our own advantage.'

  The Swedes were happy to have their dominion over the Baltic Sea confirmed if they blockaded the port to prevent Viktor escaping. From the edge of a three-mile fishing zone, all shipping would be under their protection and tolls.

  All that had been offered to Boris for his commitments was some land he didn't want or need and a minor concession on trading for copper and zinc. While brass case ammunition was nice, he could use steel cases. In fact, a significant portion of his captured stockpiles was steel cased ammo in vacuum packs.

  “I suggest you come up with a better deal for my people, who will be paying in blood, than a swathe of land that has little value after what Viktor has done.”

  There was silence all around. The Estonian was fuming, but the Finn, a Major Nyland, was nodding in agreement. When he spoke up, he said, “And your proposal is?”

  “Mutual administration of the entire area, including St. Petersburg, until they can form their own neutral state between us all. I will even offer to provide cadre to train a force to protect its southern border for us, recruited from the local populace. While Sweden would not be involved with the overall administration of the region, they should have a say in St. Petersburg. I don't want a failed state between us, but perhaps we can encourage something like the old Swiss canton system.”

  The Estonian ambassador snapped, “Why should we let you have a say in the administration of St. Petersburg? You are hundreds of kilometers away!”

  Boris looked at him with disgust on his face, and contempt shaded his voice when he answered. “I only involve myself because of the suffering Viktor has already inflicted, you little rat. His forces have not crossed my borders. But I know my history. I know what a threat he could become. I would rather fight him with allies now, but if I’m going to, it is not to divide what was until a couple of years ago a stable area. Military empire always finds itself on rocky shores, it seems to me.”

  The Swede grinned openly at the final sentence. Major Nyland’s face twitched, suppressing a slight smile. Both Finland and Sweden were based on a different concept to military empire. True, the Swedes were empire building, but a trade empire. The Finns were an almost democratic confederation in most ways.

  The Swede said, with a hint of humor, “You have the proposal already written up, don’t you?”

  “Yup,” Boris said, and pulled out a sheaf of papers, passing the copies round the table. Calmly, he said, “I will consider the changes you propose, but this is my concept of what is needed. I suggest you talk amongst yourselves.” Looking around the table, focusing on the Estonian in particular, he finished by stating, “The Finns and the Estonians came to me for help. Don’t try and dictate to me the terms on which I will help.”

  <<<>>>

  His proposal had undergone some modification. Like himself, the Finns were more concerned with refugees and harassment from the expansionist Viktor. The Estonians had demanded a strip of land, including a large proportion of the cleared farmlands closest to their current borders. The Finns had grudgingly accepted so long as the Estonian borders moved no farther north, only east.

  That would still leave at least a seventy-five kilometer buffer around St. Petersburg, and there was forested land and reverted farmland that could be used by the new realm. Their grudging acceptance made Boris suspicious of their motives. Still, it was an agreement he could live with, assuming everyone held to it.

  “What is worrying you, Love?” Janna asked him, flicking her long,
braided red hair.

  “I wish we had a better feel for the Estonians. The Finns have a traditional hatred of Russians, but since the Fall, it has been exactly that. Tradition, not something they would act on, especially against us.” Boris was worried. He was sure that with the abuse Viktor’s people had faced, the mythological short victorious war was possible.

  But he wasn't counting on it. He had planned for a three to six-year war and was using it to expand his military forces. The fortunate capture of that town, with supplies, to the south, had helped. There had been more there than Danislav's estimates.

  Still, something was bugging him about the Estonians. Janna just nodded calmly and said, “I'll get some of my people onto it tomorrow. At least we should get some more information by the time our force reaches the edge of lands Viktor controls.” She stopped and pointedly removed the sash of the robe she was wearing. “Now, come to bed. I'm sure I can think of something to take your mind off the worry.”

  Boris smiled and reached for the buttons on his shirt as he followed his love's instructions.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Two weeks later, New Romanovka was a picture of organized chaos. There were a total of five regiments—one more than Boris had planned for. A large number of mercenaries Boris had known ended up settling in Arkhangelsk after the Fall. With the resources he had made available to assist them, they had ended up considering him their effective commander, as did their children today.

  Somehow, their town council figured out that Boris was going on campaign. Boris would have preferred for their forces to stay in place. Instead, he received an entire regiment from their paramilitary policing force. They kept telling him they were under his command. They wanted to show their determination to be part of his realm.

  To be honest, despite the manufacturing he had set up with them, he never wanted them to integrate into his realm. That choice was now taken away from him. They were making a statement to anyone who could see that they were a part of his domain. He wanted to protect the Romanovkan people more than anything. Providing a base for Bethany Anne to return to was a close second. Creating a kingdom or an empire was not his goal.

  As Janna had put it, he was a leader worth following. People would choose to follow him even if he tried to set them up as an independent realm.

  Boris had shown a concern few leaders had after the Fall. Rather than hoard resources to those he was already protecting, he had spent resources, time, and effort to settle people across a large area. To secure that area, and to secure the machinery and factories that would be needed and move them to a place they would be useful. With that forethought and Lilith's help, he had made their survival in these times easier in his domain.

  The new crop types that self-fortified made his people healthier and probably more populous than almost every other area on the planet. Akio's Japan would be the only place that was better off than his realm. Lilith's crops allowed more time for education by outcompeting weeds. They also produced higher volumes of grain.

  All this resulted in the foundations for an education system. Children were not needed to pick the weeds out of the field. That freed them for school. The food surplus that the improved grains provided gave adults the freedom to pursue other tasks than farming and hunting—like teaching, for instance.

  Those children who excelled in school could eventually study under scientists, mechanics, and Lilith. Boris had made special trips to ‘rescue’ many of the scientists and mechanics from areas that were hardest hit. It was the last time he had used the pods, before today.

  If Boris were honest, the Arkhangelsk troops would be a great boon. They had a focus on house to house fighting in their training that no other unit did. They even trained to clear buildings from the top down. With his shuttles, they would be able to put those methodologies into practice.

  Still, it had thrown his logistics into chaos. Adding around two thousand troops to his force was not a simple thing. Even with the extra logistics specialists they had sent, Boris had to bring in the additional supplies above what he had already collected. It would delay his departure by at least a week. He would still send the first two regiments, his regulars, to the border.

  For the rest, he needed to get the supplies organized before he would be happy moving them, and he didn’t want to run the two militia regiments and the Arkhangelsk troops independently. While they would be a boon assaulting St. Petersburg or defending any fortifications, they could be vulnerable on the march.

  They had limited training in forests and on the plains. He also wanted to give them time to familiarize with the AK-74Ms he was equipping them with. While only slight variations on the AK-74, the improved grenade launchers that could be attached to their barrels were critical to his decision.

  He decided to visit the training range. At least Mark was the leader of the St. Petersburg force. The son of one of the leaders of the mercs who had initially settled Arkhangelsk, he had trained with Boris’s regulars. He knew how they operated.

  Mark spotted Boris’s approach and came out to meet him.

  “How goes the training?” Boris asked the stoic man.

  Mark looked much like his father. A stocky five-foot-eleven, he was in many ways like a nephew to Boris. While training had been offered to many of the Arkhangelsk officer candidates that met his standards, Mark was one of the few Boris had requested. He excelled in the training and his official position. He was currently the third most senior military figure in Arkhangelsk.

  “The men were a little cautious at first. You know the M’s grenade launcher adds a different flight profile to the basic 74’s rifle grenade. I think they are getting the hang of it now, though,” Mark said confidently. “I think that they will be confident with their new weapons once we head out. I appreciate the thought. A better weapon is always a boon.” The gratitude in his voice was clear.

  Boris shrugged and said, “What is the point of keeping something I have a surplus of away from a trusted ally? I wouldn't offer it to the Estonians. Too much risk of it being captured en-route. Besides, there is something fishy going on with them. They are more concerned about expansion than the threat. I'm worried there is something under the surface there. Janna has sent a family team that knows the southern dialect to investigate.” Boris' tone had turned grim. He'd also sent a group of ten Werewolves to shadow the Estonian forces in wolf form and report on their movements

  The roadmap of history showed that the current circumstances were ripe for betrayal. Social upheaval, combined with the small territories and the competition for resources, would push people to think of strange alliances. Similar alliances riddled both the Napoleonic era and the post-Roman era.

  Still, Viktor needed to be removed.

  Boris had to admit he was more confident of doing that with the Arkhangelsk regiment than without them.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It had taken six weeks, a time frame the trench diggers of World War One would have been proud of, but Olaf had his forward base complete. The nearby woods had sacrificed a significant amount of timber, but his operational headquarters was as good as they were likely to build.

  Dug-in bunkers with overlapping fields of fire on three sides, nine of them, covered the large hill. Each had attached dugouts as sleeping quarters. One was close to the stream that ran along the base of the hill and had a well excavated into that bunker's center. This gave the base as secure a water supply as Olaf and his troops could hope for.

  The Militias had been a great help in building the base. Used to creating housing, they had the skills needed to dig in the bunkers. They had only needed to take extra care lifting the turf. Most farmhouses in Boris's realm were dug into the ground for cooler, indoor conditions in summer and warmer households in winter. It also helped with the very short nights of summer. People still needed to sleep.

  They wouldn’t have been able to build it without the help of the shuttle. It seemed plebian to use it to haul split logs, but it enabled them to dig in their
bunkers with logs split lengthwise on the logging site. This avoided leaving a trail to the base.

  Now, his troops were secure, Olaf could start scanning the region to the west. With the two weeks of travel to the site of the forward base, they were near the old Belarusian border. Without the shuttle, they were at least three weeks on a bicycle from New Romanovka to the southwest of the town.

  “Headquarters, assemble. We are going to mount up in the shuttle and scan the surrounding region for energy signals. Every theory of the weapon, from both the scientists and Lilith, state it has to give off a large energy signature. Unless it's on something like a nuclear-powered tank, which we should be able to track as well, it has to emit an etheric or dimensional energy signature.

  “If it seems viable, we will raid the site to capture the weapon, so pack heavy. Otherwise, we return. Then, leaving a company on site to protect our forward base, the rest will equip for travel and mount a raid in force. Either way, we will leave a squad of Were volunteers on site to observe and report along the line of advance.”

  “Major Petrova, you will have command of the forward base. In the unlikely event communications are lost with the shuttle, you are to report the event to New Romanovka and move in on the last reported location.”

  The Major nodded unhappily at that. Although Olaf would have twenty-four people on the shuttle, if it was taken out, she didn't want to be the one to tell Boris and Janna. Someone would have to, though.

  “Sir, I must request that someone else lead the scouting expedition, again. I know that you wish to be there, and that you believe that seeing the landscape we may need to fight across in person is important. But...” She paused and took a deep breath. “Boris is sure to be furious if you die on a scouting mission. In fact, it is arguable that neither you nor I should go on the first flight to assess an unknown threat that could take out the shuttle scanning for it.”