“I certainly hope so,” the sergeant said.
The door to the office banged open and two blonde men stumbled in, cursing and complaining.
“Colonel, we are in no condition to fly today, we can barely walk!” Captain Ivan Fedorov said without so much as a salute.
“My brother is right,” Captain Georgi Fedorov chimed in. “Besides, this is our stand-down week and—”
“Silence!” Colonel Romanov bellowed, not allowing himself to smirk when both men flinched in pain. “This is not the St. Petersburg Officers’ Retreat. We are in a war.”
“We know that,” Georgi mumbled, “but we—”
“Taiga 10 has not reported in since yesterday at noon. This is not only unusual, but also alarming. The only way we can contact them is by motorcycle messenger or helicopter.”
The pilots looked at each other. Ivan scratched his unshaven jaw.
“I have already dispatched a motorcycle messenger, but I want an aerial reconnaissance as well. Now.”
Ivan straightened into a semblance of military bearing and gave Colonel Romanov a weak salute. A moment later Georgi copied his brother.
“As you wish, my Colonel,” Ivan said in a ponderous tone. “We leave as soon as the helicopter is warmed up.”
“Yes,” Georgi said with a firm nod.
“The maintenance crew has already started the machine,” Romanov said. “By the time you reach the flight line, it will be ready to fly.”
Both pilots turned as one and shuffled out of the office, leaving the door open behind them. Georgi’s voice drifted back to them, “I told you we should bring the vodka with us.”
“Holy Mary, Mother of God,” Sergeant Severin said in a low voice. “How did they get through officers’ training, let alone flight school?”
“Their father is a nobleman and supporter of the Czar. Those two uniforms on his worthless sons are a gift from a grateful ruler,” Colonel Romanov said. “Therefore, they become our problem.”
“How do they fly that thing?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. All I want from them is a report about Taiga 10 or word of their deaths.”
26
39 miles south of Delta
“What are you all doing this far from home?” Major Riordan inspected Bodecia through narrowed eyes.
“Going for a walk, if it’s any of your business.”
“Forty kilometers, one way, on a walk?”
“We enjoy trekking. Now leave me alone.”
“You have a choice, madam. You can answer my questions now or after we string your husband up by his thumbs and carve on his belly for a while.”
“In a fair fight my husband would kill you in moments. But you know nothing of that; you’re just a damned grouse-hearted bully. I will tell you nothing or lies—your choice.”
“You place him in peril.”
“He placed himself in peril, I just went along for the exercise.”
“If I had three subordinates like you, I would rule the world.”
Hatred burned from Bodecia’s eyes. “You are as full of shit as a Christmas goose.”
“Lock her up, Corporal,” Riordan snapped. “Now!”
He watched the corporal of the guard usher the small woman out of his tent. Riordan felt angry enough to spit nails. Never in his life had he met such an intractable, insolent bitch.
She reminded him of his late mother.
Perhaps I should just shoot her now and get it over with.
What were they doing out here? Spying on the Russians? There was nothing else; they couldn’t have known about the Freekorps.
Lieutenant Grudzinski pushed open the tent flap. “Major, there is a helicopter out there.”
“Headed this way?”
“Difficult to tell, sir. It seems to be quite erratic.”
“Show me,” Riordan said, grateful for the distraction.
They moved briskly into the center of the camouflaged vehicles and tents. Lieutenant Grudzinski pointed north, “There, sir.”
Riordan trained his field glasses on the machine, keeping it in view with difficulty as it dipped and yawed.
“It’s Russian, but the pilot must be drunk, or very clever. Never have I seen such an unmilitary flight pattern.”
“I’d vote for drunk,” Grudzinski said with a nod.
“Shoot it down, Leonard.” Riordan returned to his tent.
27
39 miles south of Delta
Captain Ivan Fedorov pulled the stick back and the helicopter leveled out. It always took him a few minutes to get the feel of the craft after being away from it for more than two days.
“Like a woman!” he exclaimed.
“Who is?” Georgi said, continuing to stare out the side window.
“This sodding helicopter, you dolt. What did you think I was talking about?”
“I never know. What is that down there?”
“Where?”
“Over on the left there. See all those hummock thingies?”
“They’re probably hummocks, you idiot.”
“But some have barrels, big ones.”
“By the balls of St. Peter, you’re right. I’ll get a little closer.”
“If they are what I think they are and we get any closer, they will shoot hell out of us.”
“You’re right again, Georgi. So what should we do?”
“Well, if they’re Russian, they either won’t shoot at us, or miss us if they do.”
“True, Georgi. But what if they aren’t Russian?”
“Then we are already in very deep shit. We’ve been here too long.”
The helicopter abruptly leaned to one side and then leveled again. Georgi glared at his brother. “Wha—”
A high-velocity shell shrieked past them.
Georgi’s glare popped into surprise. “Get us out of here!”
Ivan already had the helicopter in a tight turn when two more shells burned past.
“Look at them, dammit, while I fly this stupid machine. How many hummocks are there? Do you see any troops, or insignia?”
“Shut up so I can think!” Georgi bellowed.
Ivan turned hard and flew directly at the encampment. Several large shells whistled past, aimed where the helicopter might have been had they not changed course. Ground fire, some of it larger than hand-held weapons, winked up from the camouflaged equipment.
Suddenly the canopy perspex starred in three places and small bits of the heavy plastic danced across the floor. Rounds buzzed past their heads and the helicopter jerked with the hammer blows.
“That’s what I wanted to know!” Ivan twisted the flight path into a “U” and pushed the throttle to maximum. “Took them by surprise, didn’t we?”
“Mostly,” Georgi said slowly, staring down at his feet. “We took a few hits.”
Ivan snapped his head around. “Are you injured?”
“Perhaps a little. A bullet went through my thigh.”
“St. Michael preserve us! Put a tourniquet on the damned thing, Georgi.”
Georgi fumbled around, peering around in the cockpit as if looking for his other dress glove. “What should I use, d’ya think?”
“Shit, you’re going into shock, damn you. Georgi, listen to me. Take off your belt and tighten it around your leg above the wound. Do it!”
Georgi pulled his belt off in one move and wrapped it around his leg and tightened it as hard as he could. “The thing is, my brother, every so often I require some direction. The amazing part is that you always seem to know when that moment arrives.”
Ivan banked and roared in a straight line for their aerodrome at St. Anthony Redoubt. “Are you still losing blood?”
“No, the flow has ceased. But I seem to have leaked a great deal.”
“It’s all that alcohol in our blood. We’ve thinned ourselves to a dangerous level.”
“My God, you’re right. We could bleed to death twice as fast as anyone else with the same wound.”
“P
robably four times as fast,” Ivan said, glancing sympathetically at his brother.
“Get me home.”
“What did you see back there?”
“Four, maybe five tanks, six or seven trucks. Over a hundred soldiers in a position to shoot at us when you went insane back there.”
“You know as well as I do, if you don’t scare the game it won’t flush.”
“Or fight,” Georgi said agreeably.
“Exactly. And as reconnaissance pilots, we need to know how many will fight.”
“I think I remembered that part, Ivan. But I don’t remember discussing the part where we charge the enemy in a helicopter with only one gun which you didn’t see fit to use.”
“To tell the truth, I forgot we had it. It probably isn’t even loaded.” He thumbed the cover up and pressed the trigger mounted on the stick.
Rapid roars boomed in front of them and the helicopter slowed near stalling speed. Ahead of them the tops of several large trees blew into flinders.
“Stop shooting, give this thing some petrol!” Georgi screamed. “The goddamned cannon is loaded. Now get me home!”
28
38 miles south of Delta
Rudi peered through the mosquito-net-covered slats of the hospital wall. The Freekorps numbered about two hundred effectives. It reminded him of the Russian Troika Guard: multiple shades of skin, a variety of languages, and they all spoke English when on duty. Except in the Troika Guard, the language had been Russian.
But what are they doing here? Had the Czar hired mercenaries to bolster his odds against the Dená and their allies?
Somehow Rudi didn’t believe that. This outfit reminded him of the vultures in Afghanistan, except the Freekorps smelled both death and profit.
As near as he could tell, all of the effectives were cross-trained. He wouldn’t wager against any of them in a target-shooting contest. They would not be an easy foe to conquer.
His cot jiggled which meant someone had just walked up the steps of the hospital. Rudi sank back on his pillow and closed his eyes. He hoped they would not change the huge bandage they had wrapped around his torso; he had almost worked the stiffness out.
“Your hands and arms are torn and bruised, your whole body has been battered, and you have internal injuries which should have killed you,” the doctor had told him after a thorough examination. “Yet you seem to be healing at a much faster pace than if you were in a modern, well-equipped hospital. How do you account for that?”
Rudi had grinned at him. “Perhaps because I lead an exemplary life?”
The doctor laughed all the way to the door, where he called a nurse in to help him bandage Rudi. The nurse was a hulking man with surprisingly gentle hands. It still hurt when they tightened the bandage around him.
The floorboards creaked as someone approached. Rudi wondered if they were visiting him or Pelagian, or just checking on both.
“Sergeant, are you awake?” Bodecia asked.
“Awake.” His eyes flew open and surprise filled him to see her alone. “Have you evaded the guards?” he whispered.
She nodded. “It’s easy if you know how. Has Pelagian wakened yet?”
“No. They gave him an injection and he went into a deep sleep.”
“Good, he’ll heal quicker that way. How much have you observed?”
“I would put their number near two hundred, give or take twenty. They have six tanks and four armored personnel carriers, some with Russian Army markings, and a fleet of trucks.” He stopped, thinking hard. “Oh yes, and one motorcycle.”
“Very good, Rudi. Our numbers match. Now I am worried that since they have allowed us to see so much, what do they plan to do with us?”
“Ransom is the only thing I have heard. I do not believe they have a political stake in this war, only an interest in money.”
“But surely they realize our side has no money. We are all at the end of our possibilities. That’s one of the things that has precipitated this war.”
“My armored company was ordered here. If the Czar tells me to fight, I obey. If he tells me to stand down and relax, I obey. This”—he gestured at the hospital walls—“is all new to me.”
“Yes,” she said. “As Pelagian says, ‘I am orating to the ordained.’ I am worried about what they will do to you and Pelagian.”
“If you can escape,” Rudi whispered in an urgent tone, “you must do so!”
She smiled and shook her head. “No, I am too much bound up in that man’s life to leave. I would rather die with him than live without him.”
Rudi looked at the sleeping Pelagian, then back to her.
“You have no idea how much I envy him at this moment.”
29
38 miles south of Delta
Bo Thomas slowly crawled backward from the ridge of the knoll before turning. Frank Isaac and William Williams leaned forward at his approach. Back at the ridge Yukon Cassidy remained on his stomach, peering through binoculars.
“They got a bunch of people down there, maybe hundred fifty, two hundred. They got tanks and them things that have big machine guns and haul troops.”
“Armored personnel carriers?” Frank asked.
“Yeah, those. And a bunch of trucks.”
“Shit,” William said in a reverent tone. “We’re in over our heads.” He eased forward to a vantage point and raised his binoculars.
“Why are they here?” Frank said.
Bo shrugged and Frank patted him on the shoulder. “Good work, Bo. Now get back to the others and tell them to stay very quiet.”
“Can I tell them what I saw down there?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. See ya.” Bo evaporated into the brush.
Frank slowly took position between Cassidy and William. “Whattya see?” he whispered.
Williams spoke first, “Same thing Bo saw. But what I don’t see is Pelagian or Bodecia.”
“Are there any large structures where they might be held prisoner?”
“Well, there’s close to two dozen vehicles where they could be held, and there are two large tents.”
Frank squinted his eyes. “I can’t see for shit any more. Are either of them marked as a hospital?”
“Yeah, the biggest one.” He pulled the binoculars away and looked at Frank. “You getting old or what?”
“Unless you’re dead, you’re getting older all the time, right?”
“Good point.”
Cassidy spoke up, “Hey, I see Bodecia.”
“Where? What’s she doing?”
“She’s walking up to the hospital tent. The guard doesn’t seem to see her. She went in.”
“I’ll bet my trap-line against yours that’s where they’ve got Pelagian,” Frank said.
“No bet,” William said. “Okay?”
“Yeah, no bet.” Frank scooted back into the dense tree line. “This is more than we can handle. It’s more than the Russian garrison can handle.”
“Hell, it’s more than all of us put together can handle,” Cassidy said, joining them.
“Not necessarily,” Frank replied.
***
“Colonel Romanov, Doyon Isaac is here to see you,” Sergeant Severin said.
“I hope this isn’t more trouble. Please show him in.”
The colonel stood as the doyon entered.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Colonel Romanov.”
Romanov shook the offered hand. “I am never too busy to see you, Doyon Isaac. Please make yourself comfortable.”
“We have a mutual problem, so I will get straight to the point.”
Romanov nodded.
“There is a small army of mercenaries up on Boris Creek, small by army standards, that is. They number around one hundred fifty to—
“Two hundred effectives,” Romanov said. “Your intelligence is very good, Doyon Isaac. But how is this your problem?”
“We are very aware of the fighting north of here between the Dená and the Russ
ian military. The fact that it has lasted over many months gives us all hope we had been afraid to admit before now. We’ve heard nothing for almost a week, but prior to that things had quieted and—”
“The Republic of California has entered the war on the side of the Dená separatists by dropping 900 paratroopers on Chena three days ago. They will be defeated by the armored column moving north from St. Nicholas.”
“Your high command hasn’t told you about the battle of Rainbow Ridge?”
“What are you talking about?”
“A squadron of ROC P-61 Eureka fighters destroyed most of the armored column, and blew large gaps in the road to the pass. The surviving vehicles are stranded until the road can be repaired in both directions.”
“Propaganda, perhaps?” Romanov countered, feeling a void in the pit of his stomach.
“I had no idea you were unaware of the battle. Over half of the attacking squadron was destroyed.”
“I knew about the battle, and the destruction of the armored column; what I didn’t know was that I had a spy among my communications people. We have other reserves in the area.” Romanov didn’t like this verbal chess match, especially since they had lost contact with their only reserve—Taiga 10.
“Good, because the Freekorps is a very real threat to this village and your garrison. If you believe the Russian Army can effectively deal with the threat, I am much relieved.”
“What other choice is there?”
“We could join forces. I don’t have a lot of people under arms, but perhaps enough to make a difference.”
“A Dená Separatist cell would aid the Russian Army?”
“Part of the Dená Republik would help foreign troops stationed here by the Czar to defend the village of Delta and in so doing also defend St. Anthony Redoubt.”
“Republiks have a sordid history in North Amerika. They’re always breaking off from each other and starting new ones. Look how ineffective they render each other south of here.”
“In fact,” Doyon Isaac said, “they’re all fighting between themselves right now. Yet the USA and the ROC have both sent troops north to help us. The Dená Republik is already fact, Colonel Romanov.”
Alaska Republik-ARC Page 11
