“I wondered how long it would take you to decide.”
“Sir?”
“General Grigorievich spoke with me about putting you on his staff, said he didn’t want to go behind my back but wanted you to make your own decision. I agreed with him.”
“It’s not that I don’t love my country or honor my commitments, Colonel—”
“Nobody would believe that of you, Major, least of all me. You have been immersed in a culture that fascinates you, you have met the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, and her culture has made you part of it in a very special way. I would do the same thing you are, hands down.
“But I want you to be aware that you can be seconded to the Dená and still maintain your rank and service in the RCAF.”
“I did know that, Colonel. After a great deal of thought I decided that this might lead to more duties in the Dená Army and, to be honest about the situation, I should join them from the start. How do I start this process, sir?”
“You can end it by signing these three sheets of paper. When General Grigorievich told me of his intentions, I had the paperwork drawn up and ready for you. This is an efficient branch of the service, you know.”
“Yes, sir, I know.”
Jerry quickly scanned the papers and then signed all three. He laid the pen on the desk and smiled up at his former commander.
“If you’ll still be here on August first, I would appreciate it if you would attend my wedding.”
“I’ll make a point of being here, Colonel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Just think how many California cocktail parties I can dominate with this story.”
Shipley stood and offered his hand. “All the best, Jerry, you deserve it.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Jerry shook his hand. “It has been an honor serving with you.”
Jerry turned and left the office before the lump in his throat could progress into something potentially embarrassing.
98
Tanana, Dená Republik
The Tlingit delegation flew in on a rainy day, which pleased Grisha no end.
They’ll feel right at home.
The twin-engine propeller aircraft stopped in front of the new terminal and the whining engines slowly faded to silence. Grisha glanced over the honor guard with pride. The eight men and women all wore the new Dená Republik Army uniform, designed by two Athabascan women and manufactured by a company in the Republic of California.
The aircraft door opened just as the portable stairway rolled into place. General Sobolof stepped out and glanced at the sky which threatened heavier rain and soon. He moved down the steps followed by four more Tlingit Army officers and four civilians, three of which were women.
The Dená honor guard formed up on each side of the walkway and saluted as the group passed through. Grisha waited at the end with Wing and General Eluska flanking him. Off to the side stood Lieutenant Colonel Yamato, Captain Pietr Chernikoff, and Sergeant Major Tobias.
“Grisha, it has been too long since I last saw you.”
Grisha smiled. It had only been a matter of weeks since their last conversation. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Vincent. Welcome to Tanana, Dená Republik.”
“We have much to discuss, Grisha. But first allow me some pleasure.” General Sobolof stopped in front of Captain Chernikoff, who stood even straighter if that were possible.
“Captain Pietr Chernikoff, it my great pleasure to promote you to Lieutenant Colonel in the Tlingit Nation Army. Your effectiveness here in the Dená Republik has been exemplary. Besides, we had to keep you and Paul looking the same, didn’t we?”
At that moment Paul Chernikoff emerged from the aircraft and in quick strides covered the distance between him and his brother. The two men embraced.
Grisha heard Wing mutter to Yamato and Tobias, “My God, how will we tell them apart?”
“Would you all please join us for lunch?” Grisha said.
“With thanks, General Grigorievich,” Colonel Sam Dundas said. “I’m starving!”
Everyone boarded a dilapidated Russian omnibus for the ride to the hospital. Abruptly the sky opened and heavy rain sheeted down. Thunder reverberated through the bus, smothering conversation and causing a few apprehensive glances out the windows.
“I refuse to view this as an omen,” General Sobolof all but shouted.
Grisha nodded.
The bus halted as close to the front of the hospital as possible. Sergeant Major Tobias was first out the door and ran the few meters to the hospital doors and flung them open. Then he ran back and assisted as people exited the omnibus.
By the time Grisha got to the door, Tobias was soaked.
“Sergeant Major, don’t you catch cold. I’m going to need your energy in the next few days.”
“Not to worry, General. I have a dry uniform inside.”
Thunder rumbled again but the storm had moved west and the worst seemed to be over. Wing led everyone into the largest room in the building where tables had been arranged in a large circle with openings on two sides. Everyone would be facing the center.
Each place setting was marked with a small placard bearing a person’s name written in beautiful calligraphy. Off to the side stood the constitutional convention delegates. A pair of tables held pitchers of water and a large samovar of tea.
The groups melded and conversations bloomed and flourished. Sergeant Major Tobias, in a crisp uniform complete with all of his decorations and badges, edged up to Grisha who chatted with Paul and Pietr Chernikoff about family and friends back in Akku.
“Excuse me, sirs.” Tobias nodded to the two colonels. “General, whenever you think everyone is ready to eat just nod and we’ll ring the dinner bell.”
Grisha looked from one cousin to the other. “You two ready to eat?”
“I know our bunch is ready to start gnawing table legs.”
“Sergeant Major, ring your bell.”
“Very good, General Grigorievich.”
Moments later the ring of a small, crystalline bell cut through all talk. In the sudden silence, Sergeant Major Tobias inclined his head to the group and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, if you will take your places we will now begin lunch.”
Grisha smiled as everyone quickly found their assigned places. It seemed there had been surreptitious recons taking place. Four servers entered through the kitchen door and set platters of food on the tables.
Grisha snagged a strip of squaw candy and began chewing.
99
Klahotsa on the Yukon, Dená Republik
“I thought you were bringing a small army of mercenaries with you, Major Riordan,” Kurt Bachmann said in a snide tone to the obviously weary man standing in his doorway.
“The situation changed many times since we spoke with your agent. I have traveled a long way; may I come in?”
Bachmann nodded to the two heavily armed men flanking the major. “It’s okay. You men did a good job. Come on in, Riordan.”
As the door shut behind him, Riordan said, “Those two would make good mercenaries. I had no idea they were around until they told me to halt.”
“One used to be in the Russian Army, the other has served under arms but I have no idea where. What happened to your International Freekorps? They all following you at a distance?”
“I wish!” Riordan dropped into a chair and looked around. “You got anything to drink? Water for a start?”
Bachmann went behind his bar and poured a cup of water and carried it to the table. “On the house.”
Riordan drank it all and handed it back. “I’d be forever grateful if you could fill it with whiskey now, just this once.”
Bachmann glanced down into the cup and back at Riordan. “How grateful? You going to repair my truck?”