For a moment he saw two of everything and squeezed his eyes shut. The scent of flowers suffused him and he didn’t know if he should enjoy the incongruity or worry about brain damage.
He had to get to Janeki before the colonel got all of his comrades killed. He wasn’t going to argue with the man. He would just shoot him.
A roaring grew and for a moment he thought it was part of the concussion. It turned out to be aircraft, and this time they were firing. Provost Marshal Kubitski swiftly crawled under a truck and prayed it didn’t take a direct bomb hit.
77
Village of Kilsnoo, Russian Amerika
“What do you think their answer will be?” Wing asked, staring at the closed conference room door and doing her best not to fidget.
“In my opinion, there can only be one answer: to agree with us or something very close to agreement.” Grisha wished he had something to do with his hands. For a brief moment he envied cigarette smokers until he also remembered how they smelled.
“We don’t have a lot of time left bef—”
The door opened, breaking her sentence along with her train of thought. Colonel Sam Dundas gave them a slight bow.
“General, Colonel, we would appreciate your presence.”
Wing studied the man. She didn’t know Sam Dundas like Grisha did, and therefore found his face unreadable. Grisha took her arm and they walked through the door.
She desperately didn’t want this mission to fail. Not only did it signify the possibility of a unified Republik of Alaska, it also returned to her beloved Grisha the status of which he had been robbed. She didn’t think these people gave him much respect and that put her hackles up.
All five men stood when they entered. General Sobolof indicated the two chairs on either side of him at the head of the table. No one spoke as Grisha held Wing’s chair and she sat. The others sat when Grisha did.
Wing tried not to hold her breath. From somewhere inside her she heard Blue say, “Don’t ever show ’em that it matters.” She forced herself to relax, give the men around the table her best “I’m on your side” smile, and wait.
“General Grigorievich, Colonel Grigorievich,” General Sobolof said in his most ponderous, official tone, “we sincerely appreciate and salute your presence here, and we further understand what personal danger you endured in making this visit.”
He’s going to send us packing, Wing thought.
“To that end we wish to assure you that your efforts are not in vain. We have agreed to most of General Grigorievich’s suggestions and are certainly open to further debate.”
“You are?” Wing blurted.
All of the men except Grisha broke into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” she snapped, trying not smile.
“You thought we were going to turn the whole thing down, didn’t you?” Sam Dundas asked, wiping a tear from his eye.
She gave them her full grin. “General, I will never play poker with you, or any other game where I might lose money.”
This time Grisha laughed too.
“Now that we’ve had our fun,” General Sobolof said, “let’s get down to business.”
Two people, a woman and a man, came in through a side door.
“This is Captain Pletnikov and Lieutenant Davis. The captain will record our conversation on this machine, and Lieutenant Davis will transcribe everything said with her incredible command of shorthand.”
Wing nodded in tandem with Grisha. The captain sat down and glanced at the lieutenant. She opened her tablet on the table and nodded back. He snapped a switch on the machine and it began to hum.
“This is General Vincent Sobolof of the Tlingit Nation Army. I am officiating at a meeting between members of our War Council and delegates from the Dená Republik. I will now have each of these people identify themselves, beginning with our guests.”
Wing waited while Grisha spoke and then she identified herself and stated her rank. While the men around the table spoke, she allowed herself a glow of pride. They were making history here, and despite what happened later, this would be remembered, and matter.
78
Battle of Delta
Magda peered intently where she had seen the Russian troopers fall back. At least the artillery had ceased. The Russians were probably worried about hitting their people. Private Clarence Attla, hunkered down to her right, nudged her.
“Somebody is coming around that rock over there, Magda.” He gestured with his chin and aimed at the spot.
“Could it be our people?” she whispered.
“Ain’t we the right flank?”
“Supposed to be, but you never know who might have gotten off course. Don’t shoot unless I say so.”
“You’re the sergeant,” he whispered through a quick grin.
They both watched the slab of rock. The firing had died down to intermittent shots. They could both clearly hear someone moving slowly through the scree around the base of the rocks.
A head popped up and then down again. Magda glanced at Clarence. He shrugged. The head edged from behind the slab at a different spot.
She realized the person wasn’t attacking; they were trying to make contact or surrender. She shared the thought with Clarence.
“And how do you know that?” he asked.
“If they were attacking, they’d just lob a grenade over here and charge in when the thing went off.”
He stared at the slab and scratched his jaw. “That’s good thinking, Magda. I agree.”
“Be ready to shoot anyway.” Her mouth went flat. “It could be a trick.”
“Okay, you take it from here.”
“This is the Dená Army,” she said in a loud voice. “Stick your rifle straight up and ease around that rock if you want to live.”
A rifle speared into the air. “Okay,” a voice called. “Don’t shoot, okay?”
“Okay,” Clarence replied. “Get yer pokey butt over here.”
Magda thought the rifle looked like a California carbine.
“Clarence? Is that you?” A man wearing ROC dungarees edged around the slab and moved toward them, keeping low behind the rocks.
“George? What the hell you doing out here? I thought you were still fishing down at Russian Mission. Get over here, man.”
Clarence and George pounded each other’s back and grinned.
“Magda, uh Sergeant—”
“Magda’s just fine,” she said through her smile.
“Uh, this is my cousin, George Hoyt from Russian Mission. I ain’t seen him for years.”
“Hoyt? What kind of a name is that?” she asked.
“My great-grandpa was one of them Moravian missionaries. Great-grandma sorta absorbed him into her way of life.”
“What you doing out here, George?” Her voice went crisper than she intended.
“Yeah. I’m with Major Smolst from Chena and we got a bunch of California rangers and paratroopers with us. Them California guys want to hook up with the people at Refuge and coordinate an attack.”
“That would be us,” Magda said. “Anybody else with you, George?”
“No. Just me.”
“Clarence, you stay here. I’m going to take George to Pelagian.”
“Yes, Sergeant Magda.”
George followed her along their line of soldiers. “You’re a sergeant?”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“Not at all. It’s just that you’re the prettiest sergeant I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re a flirt, George. It must run in the family.”
Pelagian was suddenly in front of them. “Magda, who’s this?”
“Father, this is George Hoyt from Russian Mission. He’s Clarence’s cousin. He’s also a scout for Major Smolst and the Californians.” She stepped aside.