Jerry noticed the headquarters building consisted of a variety of gray stone. The dark gray stone floor bore hundreds of scuff marks with stolid endurance. Medium gray walls, broken with elusive splashes of color in military posters, remained otherwise unforgiving and impermeable.
The colonel’s door, at least, was dark brown oak. Jerry knocked on it twice, and then waited.
“Enter,” said a loud voice rigid with authority, never doubting instant compliance on the part of the listener.
Jerry opened the door and stepped into a comfortable office decorated with lace curtains; an oriental rug covered most of the stone floor, and the colonel rose to his feet behind a beautiful cherrywood desk.
“First Lieutenant Gerald Yamato reporting as ordered, sir.” He gave him the best salute he owned.
The colonel stiffened to attention and returned the salute. He smiled and gestured to a chair in front of Jerry.
“Please sit, Lieutenant Yamato, enjoy being off your feet while you can. I am Colonel Stephan Romanov, late of the Imperial Russian Army. Even though a number of my men and I have joined the Dená Republik Army, I have been left in nominal command of our little band of volunteers.”
“Yes, sir,” Jerry said, waiting for the real reason he was here.
Romanov smiled. “I understand that you are new to the area, flew in from California?”
“Flew most of the way, walked the rest.”
Romanov laughed far more than the situation warranted. After a few moments of deep breaths, he said, “Thank you, Lieutenant, I needed to laugh at something.”
Jerry had remained deadpan throughout. “You’re welcome, sir.”
“We’re faced with overwhelming odds. I’m sure you’ve been told we have the remnants of an angry, defeated army coming at us from the north and a fresh, fully complemented army of retribution coming at us from the south. Unless we fade into the bush, where the remains of a band of pissed-off mercenaries still lurk, we have nowhere to go.”
“What is your plan, sir?”
“Who said I had a plan?”
“You and Doyon Isaac did great quite recently. I know, I was there.”
“Yes, so I heard. In fact you showed great courage leading the infiltrators and sappers. If I was still in the Russian army I would decorate you for your actions.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jerry felt a wave of astonishment sweep over him; the colonel actually meant it!
“No, I thank you. I need your help again: what should we do here and now?”
“I’m a first lieutenant from another nation’s military; I don’t even know the country. Why are you asking me?”
“For some of the same reasons you just mentioned as well as the fact that you are a warrior. Perhaps I was at one time, but for the past eleven years I have been an administrator.”
“Have you spoken to Doyon Isaac about this?”
“Yes, he recommended you as an advisor.”
“Oh.” Jerry thought for a moment. He had sorted things out, but he needed to put them in the right order. “We need reconnaissance, on the ground and in the air. Do you still have aircraft?”
“We have a Sikorsky helicopter, which is almost repaired, and an old Grigorovich fighter.”
“A Grigorovich. How old is it?”
“I think it was built in the late ’40s.”
“Does it fly?”
“Beautifully. But our last fighter pilot left three years ago and our drunk—our helicopter pilots won’t touch it.”
“Does it still have armament?”
“A 20mm cannon on each wing and 7.62mm machine gun in each wing root. Our mechanics have kept it in perfect condition, as a pastime more than a duty. They run the engine up each month just to keep it functional. Have you flown such a plane?”
“We trained in old fighters for months before they would let us touch a P-61 Eureka. Would you allow me to take her up and see what’s going on in the neighborhood?”
“Provisionally. First we must make contact with your people so they don’t shoot you down. Then you must convince the chief mechanic that you won’t hurt his pride and joy.”
“Lead me to him, sir.”
35
Delta, Russian Amerika
“I’m fine, I tell you! Please stop this incessant questioning,” Pelagian said.
“It’s only been a few days, my husband,” Bodecia said as contritely as she could. “I wanted to be sure your wound had knitted.”
“Frank is making deals with Russians, there are armies advancing on us from both directions, and I have been completely out of the action for a week!”
“You know Colonel Romanov is an honorable man. Why are you doubting his sincerity?”
“Because he’s a Russian! They have no more control over their emotions than a Frenchman does, they just look at the situation in darker terms.”
“Pelagian, the man is part Yakut. He’s only part Russian.”
“They’re more like Eskimos than they are like us.”
“Stop talking like that this instant!” she snapped. “It’s beneath you. Where is your head?”
“I’m angry, damn it! I have worked for years to create a sovereign nation for the Dená. And when it finally starts to happen, I get winged by a damn ricochet and am on my back for a whole week.”
She shrugged. “Ricochets happen if you’re around guns. It’s not your fault, nor mine. It’s kismet, why not accept it?”
Pelagian opened his mouth, frowned, and then closed it. She watched him think and felt more in love with him than ever.
“You’re right, I haven’t accepted this for what it is.” He gazed into her eyes. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit of a shit. You’ve done an incredible job of getting Rudi and me through this. You are the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever known and I’m so happy you married me.”
She hugged him tightly. “That’s one of the reasons I love you—you know when to retreat.”
They both laughed.
“I am so transparent to you,” he said.
“But I like what I see.”
The door opened and Naomi Jim filled it. “Hey, looks like my patient is much better.”
Bodecia released her husband and moved across the room to her friend. “That’s because you’re such a good nurse, Auntie Naomi.”
“Well, Auntie Bodecia, that’s because he had a healer with him. He’s a very lucky man.”
“You’re both right,” Pelagian said. “Now I have to get out of here. Where’s Frank?”
“Doyon Isaac is over at the redoubt,” Naomi said with a sniff and gave him a slight curtsy. “And you’re welcome.”
“Thank you, old friend,” he said, suddenly hugging her to him. “You know I love you.”
He vanished through the door.
“He just wanted to get around me,” Naomi said with a chuckle.
36
Port Lemhi, Republic of California
“No, Wing,” Grisha said with a sigh, “you can’t move your rook like that.”
“Damn! I thought you said this was a war game. How can soldiers only move in certain ways? It doesn’t make sense.”
General Grisha Grigorievich laughed at his wife’s expression until she impaled him with her “you’re walking on thin ice” look.
He coughed. “Look, it’s just a silly game, don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worried, I’m pissed! This game is too formalized to be a true depiction of war. Why did you think I’d like it?”
“You said you wanted to learn chess…”
A brisk knock rattled the door.
“Come in!” they shouted in unison, him grinning and her glaring.
Sergeant Major Nelson Tobias stepped through the door, assessed the situation, and snapped to attention. “General, Colonel, our next transport is here and they are ready for us to board.”