“Lieutenant Alex Strom, International Freekorps, General.”
“You’re a prisoner of war, Lieutenant Strom. It will be determined later if you are guilty of war crimes or merely bad judgment in following that worthless bastard.” He nodded at Riordan.
“I’ve already convicted myself of the latter, General.”
“You’re smart; that’s why you’re a lieutenant.”
“Maybe I’m not smart enough?”
86
Port Lemhi, Republic of California
The RCNS Mako slid into her berth and sailors on the dock tied her fast while a gangway was expertly lowered to her deck.
Wing felt completely drained of emotion. It seemed a miracle to see sunlight, solid ground, and the last of this horrible, smelly submarine. Still, she had to be polite.
“Colonel Grigorievich,” Captain Vandenberg said, holding both of her hands in his, “your unflinching bravery gave all around you added determination.”
“Captain Vandenberg,” she said earnestly, staring into his eyes, “it’s a true wonder I didn’t soil myself. I have never been that frightened before in my life. You and your men have to be the bravest people I know to go down and do that day after day.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll make sure my crew hears your words. We’re proud to have helped make your quest more successful.”
She didn’t hear what Grisha said behind her. She didn’t care. She just wanted off this terrifying boat once and for all.
Lieutenant Commander Hills waited at the bottom of the gangplank.
“Welcome back, Colonel. How was your trip?” His wide smile gave him a boyish look.
“Hell, Commander Hills. Total hell. I really need a drink of something stronger than tea.”
“Perhaps I can interest you in a shot of twenty-year-old brandy?”
“I have never drunk liquor before, so…”
“Maybe a nice glass of California wine would be a better choice then.”
Grisha and Sergeant Major Tobias walked down the gangway, deep in conversation. Wing wondered what subject they discussed. Once on land Grisha turned and saluted the Mako, then bent down and kissed the ground.
The watch standers on the submarine all laughed and applauded.
“Commander Hills, it is a true joy to see you again,” Grisha said.
“The trip was that bad, huh?”
“Have you ever been in a depth charge attack?”
“No, General, I haven’t. You don’t see any dolphins on my chest. I’m in awe of those guys, but I’m not crazy.”
“Commander Hills has offered us a glass of wine.”
Grisha regarded her with an odd expression. “But you don’t drink.”
“Today I do, perhaps for the only time in my life, but getting back here alive deserves a celebration.”
“As long as you don’t overdo it.” Grisha smiled and offered his arm. As they walked to the black sedan, Grisha whispered in her ear, “We have to return to Tanana as soon as possible. The election is getting ugly.”
Wing felt her spirits slump. “I was afraid that would happen.”
87
4000 feet over the Dená Republik
“Give me a damage assessment,” Colonel Shipley ordered.
“This is Cassaro. I’m out of ammo but they didn’t lay a finger on me.”
“Hafs here. I’m getting frostbite from a hole on each side of my canopy; other than that I’m just fine.”
“I’m fine as frog hair, Skipper,” Currie reported. “As far as I’m concerned, we could hit them again.”
“Yamato?” Shipley’s voice had gentled and his concern was obvious to all who heard it.
Jerry cleared his throat. “No injuries, no aircraft damage, Colonel Shipley.”
“Well, gentlemen,” Shipley said in a more fulsome voice. “This is our last mission. We’ve been ordered back to Fort Yukon. We’re being relieved.”
“Excellent!”
“Man, that’s the best news I’ve heard since we came north.”
“Who’s replacing us, Colonel?” Yamato asked.
“I’m not at liberty to say over an unsecure frequency. But suffice it to say they will add a lot of speed to the war.”
Jerry frowned. What the hell was he talking about?
As they angled down toward the runway at Fort Yukon, an aircraft whipped past them at an incredible rate of speed.
“What the hell was that?” Cassaro yelled.
“It’s a plane. I can see that much,” Hafs said.
“That, gentlemen, is the future of aviation,” Shipley said in a reverential tone. “That was an RCAF F-82 Swordmaster, the most modern jet fighter aircraft in the world today.”
“What the hell is a jet?” Currie asked.
88
Tanana, Dená Republik
“I want Gennady Ustinov arrested and tried for murder!” Nathan Roubitaux bellowed.
“Who did he murder?” Grisha asked, keeping his tone neutral.
“One of my oper—one of my campaign workers! A man named Alexi—”
“Popovich,” Grisha finished for him.
“Then you already know about it. Why hasn’t this man been arrested?”
“For one thing, there’s still a war being fought. And from what I heard, your campaign worker challenged Mr. Ustinov to a duel and lost. There is the issue of personal responsibility here. Mr. Popovich shouldn’t have been so free with his challenge.”
“You’re siding with them against us?”
“Who are them and who is us, Nathan? I thought we were all on the same side here; the Athabascan People, the Dená Republik.”
A murmur eddied around the Council Chamber.
Grisha and Wing had been summoned to the chamber ostensibly to give a report on their meeting with the Tlingit Nation Army. But they knew much more needed to be dealt with than the stated subject; they had been warned.
Grisha, Wing, and Sergeant Major Tobias had arrived in Tanana the previous day to a welcoming committee of four: General Eluska, Lieutenant Colonel Blue Bostonman, Major Lauesen, USA, and a man named Waterman Stoddard.
Introductions had been quick and General Eluska summed up with, “We represent four situations: I’m military, Blue is politics, Major Lauesen is intelligence, and Mr. Stoddard is trouble.”
Grisha’s grin died quickly when he realized Paul wasn’t kidding. “So tell me.”
“There is a battle under way at Delta; we heard it might be finished, but nothing official has come through. The Republic of California has sent a—”
A quickly growing roar filled the air and a formation of four aircraft shot through the sky over them and dwindled into the distance.
“What the bloody hell!” Sergeant Major Tobias blurted.
“Couldn’t have timed that better if I tried,” General Eluska said with a grin. “That was part of the squadron of fighter jets the Republic of California has sent north.”
“Jets?” Wing asked, glancing at the sky again.
“I’ll handle that part, Colonel,” Major Lauesen said in a low voice.
“We still have about fifteen hundred people stationed at Bridge,” General Eluska continued, “and the Dená Army is pretty damn thin everywhere else. But we still have the ROC and the USA bolstering our pitiful numbers.” He nodded at Major Lauesen. “I think you should go next, Elstun.”
“Thank you, General Eluska. General and Colonel Grigorievich, a great deal has transpired since you left on your mission. And please allow me to congratulate you both on the results; I wish I could have been there.”