Russian Amerika (24 page)

"Jesus!" he said with a croak. "What happened, Malagni?"

"Bad shit." Malagni sounded dazed. "Look what they did to my arm." Malagni's right arm hung shattered, connected only by a shred of bicep. Blood squirted in measured jets from the mangled flesh.

"Oh, God. We gotta tie that off!" Grisha pulled his belt off and looped it under Malagni's shoulder, pulled it as tight as he could and knotted it. The jets of blood dropped to a steady trickle "Medic! We need a medic over here!"

A woman ran over to them, glanced at the wound, and blew a sharp blast on a whistle. Two men appeared with a collapsible litter and the three of them rolled Malagni onto the canvas and hauled him away.

Hands pulled Grisha to his feet and led him into warmth and light. Equilibrium returned as he walked. He found himself in a large garage.

Paul emerged from a corner. "You're a mess, what happened?"

"I think they hit us with one of those antitank weapons," Grisha told him. He tried to shake off the numbness he felt, and forced himself to focus on events around him, swallowing repeatedly to ease the ringing in his ears. The place stank of gunpowder and he felt chilled to the bone.

"What's happened here?"

"Most of them have come over to our side. We got about eighty new recruits. About twenty possess a usable skill other than cleaning or killing."

"Malagni's in a bad way," Grisha said. "Where's Nathan and Haimish?"

"Operations complex, through those doors over there. Chan's there, too, along with a camera crew from California."

"A what?" Wing asked, coming up behind them.

Paul explained about the visitors from the Republic of California.

"Casualties must have been light to have a bunch like that running around," she said.

"We lost some good people," Paul responded.

The door opened and Nik came out. One look at the Russian's streaming face told Grisha that he hadn't faced all the bad news yet.

"Oh, Nik, it's Cora, isn't it?"

Nik nodded dumbly, weeping uncontrollably. The sudden lump in Grisha's throat constricted his breathing.

"I am so sorry. Was it . . . quick?"

"She said she wanted to marry me, then," he swallowed, "then she died."

Grisha hugged his friend to him and Nik's head dropped to his shoulder and he sobbed.

37

Tetlin Redoubt

A quarter bottle of vodka filled the void behind Crepov's belt and fogged his brain when someone pounded on the door. Katti jumped like she'd been burned. Her jumpiness always pissed him off.

He lurched to his feet with a growl. This time he wouldn't take his anger out on the woman. With a violent jerk he pulled the heavy wooden door open creating a minus-thirty-degrees Celsius gust of wind.

Two Special Unit Cossacks stared balefully in at him. He pulled up short, concentrated on the extreme cold, let it burn at the scar on his face to clear his head. They both towered over him.

"We must go immediately to headquarters and you must be with us," the biggest and ugliest one said.

"I get my coat." Crepov pulled his parka off its peg. He knew when to walk with the wind.

Katti shivered behind the door, ready to shut it as soon as possible. Most of the warmth in the single room had vanished along with his drunkenness. He hurried out, pushed between them, and strode rapidly toward the operations building.

The cold robbed him of anger. By the time he stormed past the sentry he had decided to first listen to the colonel before telling him to put this job sideways up his anus. He stiff-armed the office door open and jerked to a stop.

Valari wore the insignia of a major and the corporal had a third stripe. No good, he reflected, the man will always be a corporal.

The two flanked the colonel, who glowered from behind his desk.

"Good of you to come out on a night like this, Bear," he said with no hint of sarcasm. "We need your special skills."

Crepov saw the man's eyes flick over his scar before recapturing his gaze. He let himself glance at the other two. Nobody smiled in condescension tonight. He realized they didn't want him here anymore than he wanted to be there. His interest flared.

"For what?"

"Something happened at Chena Redoubt. We need you to go take a look."

"Why don't you send one of your wonderful helicopters?"

"Do you refuse to go?" Valari asked softly, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head.

Her manner reminded Crepov of an attack dog anticipating trouble. In a rare flash of insight, he realized how well she fit that description. She was just more dangerous than other bitches.

"I need as much information as possible to make judgment," Bear said flatly.

"We cannot put an aircraft closer than a kilometer to Chena Redoubt," the colonel said tiredly. "They get shot down."

"What!" Bear's brain reeled with implications. "Chena Redoubt is not under the control of the Imperial Army?"

"Nor is Tanana Redoubt. Bridge Redoubt is under heavy attack and the
odinochkas
around Fort Yukon, Huslia, and Koyuk do not answer us at all. We believe the Dená Separatists are responsible. Either that or a well-organized mutiny."

"It must be mutiny, a very large mutiny," Bear muttered, more to himself than to anyone else in the room. "The Indians aren't organized enough to pull off something this big." He regarded the three of them thoughtfully.

"You can get me within two kilometers, can't you?" He added a smile for the pure spite of it.

"Of course we can." The colonel wouldn't rise to the bait. Crepov finally noticed the purple pouches under the man's eyes. "Can you leave immediately?"

"Yes. Within the hour."

"Would you like company?" Valari asked neutrally.

"You would be welcome," he said slowly. "But only if you left your pet corporal here."

"I'm a sergeant," the man said through clenched teeth.

Crepov gave him an amused look. "Your arm says that. But we know differently, don't we?" He turned and hurried back into the night.

Maybe he would find Grigoriy Grigorievich at Chena Redoubt. That would make it all worthwhile.

He grinned fiercely as the cold burned at his scar.

38

Chena Redoubt

Grisha huddled in the corner, nearly asleep, listening to the everlengthening interview.

"So this is a civil war?" Jackson asked Chan.

"No. We have never been part of Russian society, we have always been a subjugated people." The old man's eyes twinkled. "This is a revolution, we are finally striking back at a power which has oppressed us for centuries."

"Can you rig me a patch, Jimmy?" Jackson asked his technician.

"Ain't no way we're gonna get a radio signal out of here," Scanlon said.

"Only one way to find out, Jimmy, baby. And that's to try it."

"What is it that you wish to do?" Chan asked.

"Hook into our network down in California."

"Network," Haimish said. "You can communicate with California from here?"

"Let ya know in a few minutes," Jimmy said.

"Can you patch us through to the U.S.?" Haimish asked.

Jackson studied Haimish with an air of assessment.

"It might not be impossible," he said slowly. "But what's in it for us?"

"A place in history as a participant rather than a bystander."

"I need someone to help me," Jimmy said.

"The Russians have the technology to pick up any transmissions we make," Jackson said. "I sure as hell don't want to start any diplomatic hassles between them and the Republic of California just yet."

"I'll help you, Jimmy," Grisha said, pulling himself to his feet.

"Every time I drop off to sleep I start having dreams."

"So you're just up here to make a few bucks and that's it?" Haimish said with barely concealed contempt. "Open up a new market and cash in?"

"And what the fuck are you doing here, Yank?" Jackson spat. "Founding an orphanage?"

"We need to put this on the roof, man," Jimmy said. "How do we get up there?"

Grisha picked up his parka and shrugged into it. "This way, I think."

"I'm a military advisor," Hamish said flatly.

"From the U.S.?" Jackson asked quickly.

"Does it matter?"

"If I'm putting my ass on the line, it does."

Grisha hesitated at the door, feeling the tension in the room.

"I'm a colonel in the United States Army." Haimish's voice carried urgency. "This situation has moved much faster than our intelligence people anticipated. If I don't get through to my superiors I'm afraid the Russians are going to flatten this place and smash the movement before it gets its wind."

"Get the antenna set up, Jimmy," Jackson said through a grin, "while I talk turkey with the colonel."

"C'mon, man," Jimmy said tiredly to Grisha. "I want to get some sleep tonight."

The cold stabbed through his parka and Grisha realized he was more weary than he thought. He held parts together while Jimmy clumsily fastened bolts without taking off his heavy mittens. At this temperature warm skin would be instantly frozen by metal.

"You guys are more than you're saying, aren't you?" Grisha said casually.

"Isn't everybody?" Jimmy said with a snort. "Hand me that wrench."

As he pondered the man's words, Grisha became aware of a pulsing in his ears.

"Helicopter!"

Jimmy lifted his head sharply and listened. "Yeah. About two klicks away, wouldn't you say?"

"But just one." Grisha frowned up at the brittle stars. "Why would they have just one helicopter up this time of night?"

"Reconnaissance," Jimmy muttered to himself. "That's the only reason I'd have a bird up in this deep freeze!"

"You're right. Are we done here?"

"Just about. Hold this cable up so I can hardwire this thing."

The sound of the helicopter receded.

"You got people out there?" Jimmy asked. "Patrols and all that?"

"I think that's where Slayer-of-Men went when he found out about his brother."

"I hope he's awake and on the job. Shit, this thing wants to fall over."

They grappled with aluminum rods and tie-downs as the
aurora borealis
rippled above them.

39

A Kilometer From Chena Redoubt

As the helicopter receded into the distance, Bear Crepov smiled at Major Kominskiya.

"I didn't think you'd really get off the machine. I thought you'd turn rabbit on me."

"This is not the first time you have misjudged me," she said, shrugging into her pack. "Shall we get to work?"

"We have much to do, you and me," Bear said carefully. "And not everything involves enemies."

She turned and looked at him. All he could see inside the ruffed hood of her parka were twin points of starlight reflecting off her eyes.

"I agree," she said, and pushed off to the northwest, toward Chena Redoubt.

Crepov tightened the hood down around his face and followed her. The cold burned in his scar and nipped at his nose.

Experimentally, he sniffed at the air. His nostrils tried to stick together. He immediately knew it was at least minus thirty-five degrees Celsius.

The survival habits of three decades unconsciously took over. He slowed his pace to avoid working up a sweat, yet skied actively enough to stay warm. He pushed out the fur ruff on his hood to its maximum in order to create a barrier of warm air between his face and the subarctic night.

He thought only of Valari Kominskiya's body and what he planned to do with it at his first opportunity. And there would be an opportunity.

The rest of his training kicked in and he studied the land around them. Chena Redoubt had been home to him more than once. He'd hunted caribou, moose, wolves, and men in this oblast. Bear knew this countryside as well as he did the streets of Tetlin Redoubt.

Valari skied ahead of him at the same speed he maintained. Good. There was nothing he hated more than worrying about someone else, whether he had to or not.

The fact clicked in his mind that she wasn't breaking trail, she followed one.

"Major!" he hissed. "Stop."

She slid to a halt and looked back over her shoulder.

"Yes?"

He pulled up beside her.

"This trail you are following must be known to the rebels if they have put out even one patrol."

"My God, you're right." She glanced around. "What do you think we should do?"

He grinned deep inside his parka hood. She was beginning to really interest him. Capable but submissive, he liked that in a woman.

"Follow me. I'll break trail and we'll come in behind the redoubt. There's a place where worthless items are thrown in winter and avoided in summer."

"Lead."

The
aurora borealis
flared into existence, danced and capered above them. Bear had to slow considerably as he broke trail. If one sweated heavily inside arctic coverings the chances of freezing to death attained unbeatable odds.

Between the dark, scattered cabins whose presence proclaimed the outskirts of Chena, the kilometer-long stone wall of the redoubt loomed before them. Nothing moved, no sound issued from the cabins around them. Starlight on the bright snow gave enough illumination to see they were alone outside the fortress.

"Perhaps everyone is dead?" she said.

"No. They are either tired or lazy. A lapse like this will not last if they know what they are doing."

"And?"

"I do not think they are lazy."

"They also seem to know what they are doing. Now what?"

Good question.

After a moment's thought, he stabbed his ski poles into the snow, unslung his weapon and carefully propped it against them, creating a pyramid. He shook the pack off his back and dug out the rope and anchor hook. He silently measured the height of the fortress wall with his eyes.

If anyone guarded the parapets above, he and the major would soon be dead or captured. He preferred death. Bear looked back at Valari.

"Step back, give me some room, and cover me."

He swung the hook in an ever-widening circle. Abruptly he released it and the metal claw sailed up and over the thick, slightly inclined wall. By the time they heard the soft thump as it landed, both their gun muzzles pointed upward.