Alaska Republik-ARC

by Stoney Compton

  On one hand, it was terribly flattering. On the other, it felt frightening. What would he expect of her this quickly? Sex? Marriage?

  Jerry was the first Californian she had ever met. But she had heard stories about their excessive lifestyles and licentious ways. She had heard the same sort of stories about the French.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked. She saw nothing but concern in his face and felt touched.

  “I’m fine. This is the farthest I’ve walked at one time in my life. Anyway that’s what my feet are saying.”

  He laughed. “What a relief to hear you say that. My feet are killing me but I was afraid you’d think I was wimply if I mentioned it.”

  “What’s wimply?”

  “You know—weakling, unmanly, that sort of thing.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. I think you are a very strong, good man.”

  To her astonishment, he blushed and looked away.

  “Thanks, I appreciate that. Just let me know when you’re ready to continue.”

  Feeling a little worried, she pushed herself to her feet. The dogs rose effortlessly and moved out to flank her. Although confused, she wanted nothing more than to kiss Jerry.

  “Okay, follow me.”

  “Happily,” he said.

  She heard engine sounds in the distance and her lethargy dissipated instantly. The ache in her feet seemed to disappear and she moved swiftly down the trail. Behind her she heard the comforting tread of Jerry’s feet.

  17

  Village of Angoon, Russian Amerika

  “I would like this meeting to be extremely productive, very succinct, as brief as possible,” General Sobolof said. “For all of us to meet in one place, especially in these times, is just short of lunacy.”

  The nine men in the room followed him with their eyes; nothing else moved.

  “Captain Chernikoff, would you please bring everyone up to date?”

  Paul Chernikoff stood and glanced around at the hard eyes now intent on his face. He nodded.

  “Many of us, myself and my brother included, argued for a pact with the Japanese which we finally signed. Our shortsightedness has come home to roost much more quickly than any of us would have guessed. The Japanese are well into a conquest of our part of Russian Amerika.

  “If they win, we will not only have a new master to contend with, but a much more alien one than the well-known Russians we are struggling to escape. The Japanese are multitudes of degrees more militant than the Russians, and they will enter every aspect of our lives if they succeed in this campaign.”

  Colonel Fredrik Paul jumped to his feet and waited.

  “Colonel Paul?”

  “Do you have any suggestions on what we, as the Tlingit Nation Army, should do to prevent this from happening?”

  “We are far too small to act on our own,” Chernikoff said with a shrug.

  “Don’t the Dená have allies from the southern countries?” Colonel Gregori George asked.

  “Yes. They have an alliance with both the United States and the Republic of California. Both of which, by the way, in the persons of their military liaisons, promised us military aid if we so wished it.”

  Lieutenant Colonel Samuel Dundas shot to his feet, didn’t wait to be identified. “Then why the hell aren’t they on their way with what we need?”

  “Because, Colonel, my brother didn’t have the rank to agree to it.”

  “Paul, he was our envoy; he had our full confidence to act as he saw fit,” Dundas said.

  “That’s true, Sam, he did. But he thought if we were going to change masters, you all should have a chance to vote on which one.”

  “Change masters—what do you mean?” Colonel George asked.

  “We have to face reality, Colonel. Whichever country grants us military aid is going to want something for it. We don’t have gold like the Dená or oil like the Eskimos. All we have is salmon, cod, and halibut. How many guns can you get for a halibut?”

  “Depends on how damn big it is!” Colonel George said with a snort. Everybody in the room laughed with him, including Paul. When the laughter died down, General Sobolof cleared his throat.

  “Pietr was right on this one. They’ll want bases, treaties, more of our life than we want to surrender so quickly after winning it from the Czar.”

  “So we sit on our ass and do nothing?” Lieutenant Colonel Dundas raised his eyebrows as he spoke and then glanced around at the others.

  “No, Sam!” General Sobolof shouted. “We run out there and get our asses shot off, let ’em kill the whole TNA in one swoop. That what you want?”

  “No, General, of course it isn’t. But there’s a war on and it affects us in every possible way. And we’re just sittin’ here watching it all go by like a buncha school kids.”

  “If we are to exist at all, Sam,” Paul said in a low voice, “we have to stay quiet right now. There are people out there helping us, but all we can do is absolutely nothing.”

  General Sobolof nodded.

  Sam stared at each person in turn, and then said, “Sounds like crap to me!”

  “Fine,” General Sobolof said and clapped his hands, “we’re unanimous then. How many agree we should formally ask the USA and the ROC for military aid immediately?”

  Only Sam’s hand did not rise.

  “There is also the question of unification with the Dená and the creation of an Alaska Republik,” Paul said. “Our northern brothers have agreed to send a delegation to explore the possibility. But that will all be so much star gazing if the Japanese conquer the Russians here in the panhandle.”

  “Say what?” Lieutenant Colonel Dundas said.

  Paul glanced at the stern visage of General Sobolof and felt his face go ashen. He had agreed to speak to the others!

  General Sobolof raised his hand to still the sudden buzz in the room.

  “Don’t worry, Captain Chernikoff, all is well. Gentlemen, the captain brought up a subject he thought had been presented to you before this. Due to my harried schedule, I haven’t had the time to cover the topic with any of you. I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe we could cover it now?” Lieutenant Colonel Dundas said in a sarcastic tone.

  “Colonel Dundas, I know you’re new to this military thing,” General Sobolof said with steel in his voice, “but you’re also getting close to pissing off a kwan leader. You’re stacking the deck against yourself, Sam.”

  His previous scowl vanished and Sam Dundas suddenly looked worried. “I apologize if I suggested offense, General Sobolof.”

  “Not to worry. Captain Chernikoff’s brother is on a trip to visit his cousin, General Grigoriy Pietrivich Grigorievich, Commander of the Dená Army.”

  “Grisha is in command—” Colonel Gregori George stopped himself with an effort. “My apologies, General, but you couldn’t have surprised me more if you had said he was the man in the moon.”

  “It is surprising,” General Sobolof said with a sage nod. “Especially considering the fact that a year ago he was a prisoner in one of the Czar’s penal camps. With this hiatus in fighting, the Dená are sending him and his new wife, a colonel in the same army, to us as emissaries.”

  “But we are a rebel army, General,” Colonel George said, “not a government.”

  “The Dená started in the same manner,” Paul said. “Then they had each village elect a representative to send to an assembly where they thrashed out a basic government.”

  “Why don’t we just have all the kwan chiefs decide on a government?” Colonel George said. “That would save a lot of trouble and time.”

  Paul Chernikoff and Sam Dundas were the only two men in the room who were not kwan leaders. But Sam was the son of a kwan chief and knew that one day he would lead his people. Chernikoff cleared his throat.

  “If it had been the Tlingit Army, my cousin Grisha would perhaps be a major. The Dená have traditional chiefs, but they also have legislators, a war council, and a president. Some of those people are traditional
chiefs, but the majority are not.”

  “What are you implying, Captain?” Colonel Paul asked in a frigid tone.

  “Our people have a rigid caste system. Tradition has always outweighed ability and that has not changed in hundreds of years.”

  “Our system works for us, Captain Chernikoff,” Colonel George said. “Let the Dená do as they wish.”

  “The Dená are creating a republik. Republik means equal representation for all. Every person above a certain age has a vote.”

  “Even women?” Colonel George asked in evident surprise.

  “Yes, even women. Over half of the delegates in the Dená assembly are women. And they have done an excellent job of directing, and fighting in, the war against the Russians.”

  Silence settled on the small room. One by one, all eyes found General Sobolof. Chernikoff kept his silence and waited; he had done his part.

  “Like it or not, we are in the midst of change,” General Sobolof said. “We wish to govern ourselves, to throw off the Czar and his cossacks once and forever. It surprises none of us that we cannot do this thing alone; we need help from outside.”

  “General, if I may interrupt a moment?” Colonel Paul said. “Would it be worth destroying our culture in the process of freeing our people? The kwan is the backbone of our people—”

  “But not the muscle!” Chernikoff blurted. “The people are the muscle, and the chiefs and leading families have always been the brains. It is time the whole of our people had a say in their lives.”

  “That is a very radical statement,” Colonel Paul snapped. “This is not the time for radical deviation from the way our people live.”

  “Throwing off the Czar and the Russian government isn’t radical? They have been our masters for over two hundred years—is that not tradition by now?”

  “Captain Chernikoff,” General Sobolof said, “I think we all get the point of your commentary. Please allow us the courtesy of debate.”

  “Of course, General.”

  “You may leave the room now.”

  18

  Tanana, Dená Republik

  “No,” Wing said as sternly as she could. “We aren’t taking any large weapons.”

  “But this is the rifle General Grigorievich used in the Second Battle of Chena, Colonel!” Sergeant Major Tobias’ eyebrows went as high as his tone of voice.

  Grisha laughed. “Don’t worry, Sergeant Major, I’m sure I won’t need it in Akku.”

  “Very good, General.” Tobias left the room.

  “He’s like a mother hen!” Wing said in a low voice as she sat down beside him. “Sometimes I feel I’m a rival to him for your affection.”

  Grisha put his arm around her shoulders, pulled her over and kissed her.

  “If that’s the case, he lost.”

  “Well, I wasn’t worried about him winning!”

  “Neither was I.”

  She peered at him. “Grisha, you’ve changed somehow. You don’t seem as uncomfortable as you once were with what you’re doing.”

  “I finally realized that I was no longer a charter boat skipper in chains, but rather I was a person of authority in charge of the lives of many good people. The thing that has saved me in the past, and now, is my ability to change: to assess the situation correctly and embrace it completely. I have accepted the fact that I am now a general and must think far beyond myself if I am to do the job I have been given.”

  “I think I’m who I always was.” She looked at him with new eyes.

  Two knocks sounded on the door and Sergeant Major Tobias stepped though.

  “Guess who?” Wing muttered.

  “Colonel Jackson wishes an audience with you, General. What should I tell him?”

  “Show him in, Sergeant Major Tobias.”

  “Very good, sir.” He shot Wing a glance and then exited.

  “I think the sergeant major and I shall have a little chat,” Wing said, “about his chances of promotion.”

  “There’s no higher enlisted rank than sergeant major,” Grisha said.

  “True. But he might be a corporal, soon.”

  “Grisha!” Benny Jackson strode into the room and then stopped short. “Sorry. General Grigorievich, how good to see you again.”

  Grisha smiled and reached up from his wheelchair. “Benny, it will always be Grisha to you.”

  “Thank you, sir!” He shook Grisha’s hand and looked over at Wing. “And the most exciting woman I know, such luck I have. How are you, Wing?”

  She embraced him. “It’s good to see you, Benny,” she said into his ear, “what do you want?”

  He pulled back with a laugh. “Damn, I hate it when a woman is smarter than I am.”

  “Another woman, you mean.” She smiled again.

  “Wing!” Grisha said with a frown.

  “No,” Benny said in a more somber tone, “she does have a point.”

  “I know you’re a busy man, Benny,” Grisha said. “What can I do for you?”

  “In a way, it’s something I can do for you. Do you, personally, have a problem with the Republic of California rendering aid to the Tlingit Nation?”

  “Christ, no!” Grisha tried to sit up straighter, but the full leg cast kept him pinned to his chairback. “I couldn’t be happier! They will be under the Japanese yoke within weeks if they don’t get help, and we can’t help them.”

  “I don’t trust your current government, but I trust both of you. We’ve all shared privation, defeat, and victory together. There is no stronger bond among humankind.”

  “No argument,” Wing said, her eyes shining. “Finish what you started to say.”

  “We’re going to declare war on Japan if they don’t withdraw from Alaskan and Californian waters. I understand you two are the new Dená ambassadors to the Tlingit Nation. Congratulations. Be ready to move south on a moment’s notice, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “We’re supplying your transport and it’s to our advantage to have you down there right now. They trust you. Something about a kwan?”

  “Yeah, that means a lot to them,” Grisha said. “Will you be going with us?”

  “No. They pulled me out of the field to ask you about the potential alliance with the Tlingits. My government thinks we have a bond they can manipulate, so they obviously don’t know you very well.”

  Wing grinned but her tone bore an edge. “And you’re not trying to manipulate us?”

  “No, Colonel Grigorievich, I’m not. I might try that with your government, but not with the two of you.”

  “Thanks, Benny,” Grisha said. “We appreciate that. Now get back to your command.”

  19

  Tim McDaniel’s odinochka

  Although feeling the room was far too small for all the people jammed into it, Cassidy pulled the door shut behind him and stood quietly, assessing the scene.

  Timothy McDaniel’s odinochka, situated three miles outside Chistochina on the edge of the Saint Elias Mountain Range, occupied a prosperous location. The twenty-meter-by-twenty-meter building was sectioned off from the entrance by two long counters. One served as a bar, now thick with loud inebriates.

  The second counter served for dry goods and other merchandise and was populated by two patient Indian women who waited for the proprietor’s attention. A pall of tobacco smoke wreathed the heads of those who stood. Cassidy didn’t like the stink. Never had.

  Stale beer, unwashed bodies, and the sharp bite of cheap whiskey also mingled to overwhelm his nose.

  “Yukon Cassidy? We haven’t seen you around here for at least a year!” Cristina Petitesse seemed ageless. He remembered she had looked this wrinkled and jaded ten years ago.

  He had never seen her inhale her trademark Russian cigarette. It was as if her lungs filled through her nicotine-stained fingers. She blew out a cloud of acrid smoke.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Petrol for my utility, a mug of beer, and some answers.” He noticed the drop in conversation around him a
s more of the denizens quieted to hear the stranger’s words.

  “Petrol is six coppers a liter, and four coppers for the beer,” she said, waiting for payment.

  He slapped money on the bar. “And how much for the answers?”

  “That all depends on the questions.” She turned and pulled a tap handle over a smudged mug. She set it on the bar as if making an offering, but the four coppers disappeared before his hand touched glass.

  “Looking for a man called Riordan, Major Tim Riordan.”

  He drank off half the beer without examining the mug.

  Cristina frowned at the name, but Cassidy recognized her I’m thinking about it look and waited. Her eyes returned to his.

  “Never heard of him. Is he in this area?”

  “He’s somewhere in Russian Amerika, that’s all I know.”

  “Well, for once you know more about the situation than I do. No charge. I’ll have Boris top off your utility.”

  She turned away and the ambient conversation resumed its previous volume. Someone nudged his left elbow. He looked down at a small, heavily bearded man. No, small didn’t come close. This person stood barely more than a meter and a quarter.

  “Who are you?”

  “Someone you need to know!” The surprisingly deep voice held no question, only assertion. “You’ve got one chance in four to get out of this room alive.”

  “Wha—”

  “And one chance in six to get back through the gate before you bleed to death, no matter how fast you drive.”

  Cassidy glanced around. Nobody paid them the slightest heed. He tried not to grin as he lowered his gaze to the man. “Nobody seems to give a damn whether I’m here or not.”

  “Just for drill, shut up and listen. Two of Riordan’s men are in this room. They’ll want to know why you’re looking for their boss. If it’s not to give him, and them, a job, it means you’re one of the growing throng who wish to see that bastard Irishman dead. So, which is it?”

  Cassidy surreptitiously glanced around again.

  Still no detectable interest.

  He looked back to his informant, no longer feeling like smiling.