Russian Amerika: Chapter Twenty Five

25 - Minto, December 1987

    Minto buzzed with excitement. Visitors from upriver and downriver crowded into the available guest space and spilled into the council chambers. The log building had been ordered built by the Imperial Army to serve as military quarters when needed.

    Villagers had completed the project, which gave them a sense of ownership. Grisha found the fact amusing but doubted the army would. On reaching Minto he realized Toklat had been a military operation.

    Minto swarmed with children, and the resident adults were not as enthusiastic about an impending Dena' Republik as the people who had inhabited Toklat.

    "You people are just going to bring the Russians down hard on us!" a middle-aged man bitterly informed Grisha. "They got an army, a navy, and an air force. How you gonna stop that with your fancy words?"

    Grisha parroted Hamish's answer. "Politically and economically."

    "Shit!" the man responded. "Them Russians hit this place 'cause of you - you're gonna be dead, one way or another!"

    After that, Grisha asked quiet questions of Hamish, Chan and Wing. The village was typical of the entire region, roughly thirty percent of the population were sympathetic to the cause, about forty percent seemed to tolerate it, ten percent didn't care one way or the other, and a vocal twenty percent adamantly opposed their goals.

    "What's wrong with them?" Grisha had demanded of Chan. "Don't they want their own country?"

    "They see themselves as realists who don't want to lose what freedom and property they already possess. Many of them consider themselves Russian even though they would play hell convincing the citizens of St. Petersburg of that."

    "But if they had any vision, they could see the possibilities-"

    "Did you?" Hamish snapped. "Face it, laddie, you were pushed into this by the Russian Amerika Company and the Okhana."

    "So push them."

    "Patience," Chan said with an enigmatic smile. "The day is coming when they will all choose. But they will see it as something they want to do. We won't have to push, the Czar will do it for us."

    Grisha was beginning to appreciate how well the minds of Chan and Hamish meshed. Nathan arrived two days after the Toklat people reached Minto and spent long hours with Nik. The former Czarist soldier offered his memories to the Dena' Republik, to mine for what usable ore they could discover.

    While Wing operated a cunning little tape recorder from California, Nik recounted his life from adolescence to present, with Nathan concentrating on him. Nathan asked questions that sometimes seemed pertinent, sometimes pointless. Nik answered them all.

    Grisha asked a few questions of his own about Nathan, and sometimes got evasions, sometimes pieces of answers. Chan allowed only that Nathan was a very perceptive man. Wing unwittingly revealed that Nathan had Russian, Dena', Yu'Pik, and Kolosh ancestors, she thought it common knowledge.

    Grisha tried to slip into his charter-boat camaraderie in an attempt to hear if anyone ever entertained a negative thought about Nathan. If they did, they wouldn't talk about it. Few would even allude to the possibility of feeling negative about the man.

    Slayer-of-Men told Grisha that he would never go wrong by following Nathan's orders. Finally he found one man, an old man who had weathered over 60 winters in Minto, who seemed open about the subject.

    "Nathan Roubitaux? He was a strange kid. You could be pissed as hell at him, then he'd show up and all you could do was like the little shit. I gotta admit, he's done a lot for the People."

    A faint apprehension slowly took shape in the back of Grisha's mind. In the meantime, Nik struck gold. #

    Gnady Ustinov wondered if he were wasting his time. For over a year he had heard stories about the Dena' Separatist Movement fighting the wicked Russians in order to free the Athabascan People. At first he thought it was just a drunk's bull crap.

    Then his good friend, Ambrose Ambrose had visited from Nabesna. They had only met a total of five times in the last twenty years but due to a heavy correspondence they were as close as brothers. Ambrose brought important news.

    "My cousin in Tetlin Redoubt says there's going to be a war and many of our People will be killed." His eyes had grown large with earnestness and Gnady believed him.

    "Who will kill them?"

    "The Czar's army, and cossacks, and promyshlenniks."

    "Why?"

    "The DSM has been killing many Russians and the Czar told the Imperial Army to put a stop to it."

    "I have heard the DSM is everywhere, how can the soldiers get them all?"

    Ambrose grinned. "They can't, and that's a good thing."

    "Why, my friend?"

    "Because I am in the DSM, and I think you should be, too."

    "And who would see to my store?" Gnady poked a thumb toward the structure he had built with his own hands before stocking it with a modest supply of goods he knew everybody needed or wanted. After five years he was making a good living, and he owned the land on which his store sat.

    "What about Tatania?"

    "My wife would rather talk than sell goods, I would be destitute within a week."

    Ambrose laughed. Gnady smiled with him until Tatania smacked the back of his head.

    "I can run our store just as good as you can, maybe better - people don't walk away from my bargains feeling cheated!"

    The very next week brought news of this great council along with more rumors of war. So he came to find out what would happen if there were a war, and what would happen afterward. If the Dena' drove the Russians out of Alaska, would the deed to his property still be valid?

    Who would make what sort of decrees? The Czar had always been comfortably remote even if his cossacks and promyshlennik tax collectors had not. But the system had been in place for over a century and a half, it was a known thing.

    Which Dena' would rule the new government? Some half-Eskimo from Russian Mission or Holy Cross, way down at the mouth of the Yukon? This required his personal attention.

    In the end, he and four others from their area brought two dog sleds down the frozen Yukon to Minto. He learned that news of the impending council of war had gone out to the frozen reaches of the Dena' Republik by dog sled, skier, and in two ironic instances, via Russian mail plane. Over the following week delegates and freedom fighters began arriving.

    Gnady talked with many people and learned of the recent success at Toklat. Many he spoke with didn't seem concerned about the Russian Army. There were man others who thought the DSM were a band of brigands and outlaws who in no way represented the average Dena'.

    Three weeks after the fight at Toklat, the War Council convened.

    "I will act as chairman until this assembly elects one," Chandalar Roy announced. "And that will be our first order of business, so be thinking about who you'd like to nominate. Every man and woman in this room who have reached the age of fifteen, as well as those standing outside, has a vote."

    Gnady listened closely, watching for word traps or ambiguity.

    "We'll vote on everything," Chandalar said, "including who gets to make the hard decisions about where and how we'll fight the Czar. I suggest we use the rules in this little book to run our meeting, they make sense for this many people."

    He covered the main points in Roberts Rules of Order and then grinned as shuffling feet and whispered conversations in the room began to drown him out.

    "Okay! Nominations are open."

    Chandalar was unanimously elected First Speaker. Gnady voted for him because there wasn't anyone else in the room he trusted that much, even thought he'd never met the man before this night.

    "Each representative will speak for 1,000 people. In some cases that will be two or three villages, in others probably up to ten," Chan told them.

    "So every delegate needs a voter herd?" somebody asked. They all found that funny.

    "Within your area," Chandalar pointed to a map with villages outlined, "nominate two candidates, people you trust, people you know will do a good job for you as well as themselves. Then the people from the same area will secretly vote for one of the candidates. Whoever wins will be your delegate to the War Council."

 

---

 

    Gnady joined the throng at the map. His area included Circle and Eagle as well as his own village, Old Crow.

    "There are signs with the names of the villages on them all around the room," Chandalar shouted over the din. "Go to the sign that has your village's name on it. If you can't read, ask somebody who can, we're all in this together."

    Gnady knew eleven of the twelve people under the "Circle - Eagle - Old Crow" sign. A longhaired, mustached man with somewhere between forty and thirty years, wearing well-made moose hide clothing leaned against the wall under the sign. His face proclaimed him to be angry.

    They all stood around looking at each other as the people in the room sorted themselves out. Their number stayed at thirteen.

    "I'm Waterman Stoddard," the man in moose hide declared. "I want to be your delegate."

    "Why?" Gnady asked, surprising himself.

    "I've been to university, I know how to talk to politicians no matter where they're from."

    "But how do you feel?" Gnady asked. "Why do you want this, because you can talk? Who can't?

    "Feel about what?" Clara Oldsquaw asked.

    "About this new government, about the old government!" Gnady threw his hands up. "If you think it's worth fighting the Czar, and for what? What do want to have happen when this is over? We know people by what they believe. So what does he believe?"

    "Gnady's right," Clarence Oldsquaw said in his slow way. Gnady completely ignored Clarence, as was his custom. "And where do you live and how long have you lived there?" He stared at Waterman Stoddard. "I sure ain't never seen you before now."

    "I've lived outside Eagle for about five years. I'm from down in the Confederacy, originally."

    "The what?" Clara asked.

    "The Confederate States of America. They're just south of the United States and east of the Republic of Texas."

    "Never heard of none of 'em," Clarence said, staring at the floor in a thoughtful manner.

    "I know where they're at," Gnady said. "You come a long ways, Mr. Waterman Stoddard. Why?"

    "No room down there for someone with an itch to be their own person and not bend into what's expected of you. I'd do a good job for y'all, and that's a promise."

    "How do you make your bread? What is your work?"

    "I hunt, trap, and fish. Never been hungry nor naked, want for naught."

    "There is a problem, however," Gnady said quietly.

    "Problem? What problem?"

    "I, Gnady Ustinov, wish to be delegate." Stoddard opened his mouth but Gnady hurried on. "I am a property owner from Old Crow, where I was born. I have four years of Father Petroska's school so I can read, write and cipher. I own the only store in town and everyone knows I do not cheat them."

    Heads nodded within their small circle. Shouts echoed through the spacious room from larger, more divided groups. Gnady hoped these people liked him, which was something he had never before considered.

    "So why do you have a Russian name?" Stoddard asked.

    "My father was Russian, my mother is Dena'. Many of our people have Russian blood, and English, and French, and Eskimo, and Tlingit... even Yankee and Rebel blood. I was born in fish camp in the middle of the dog salmon run."

    "Why do you want to be delegate?" Stoddard asked, continuing to work his mouth after he finished speaking.

    "Who knows what these downriver people will demand of us? We need a delegate who can see things as they are, not what might be."

    "But if you don't have a glimpse of the future, aren't you stuck in the past?" Stoddard's eyes seemed lit from within. "This is all about the future. That's what y'all have to realize. We have a chance here to make something none of us have ever seen; a representative government that listens to our needs." The hunter chewed his invisible cud for a few heartbeats. "We need a delegate with vision, not just fear."

    "That is easy for you to say," Gnady snapped, more stung than he wished to admit. "You have nothing to lose, no family to consider. Be a radical on your own account."

    Catherine Alexander spoke for the first time. "Enough. We are to pick two people out loud and vote for one in silence. The rest of us have heard you both," she glanced at the others. "I nominate both you."

    "So now what?" Clara asked.

    "Somebody has to second the nominations," Waterman said.

    Incomprehension stared at him from all eyes.

    "Somebody has to agree out loud with her."

    Gnady wondered if Waterman's obvious knowledge about how this meeting worked would take votes away from him. He nudged Clarence.

    "Sure! I agree with her," the old man said and lapsed back into silence.

    "Okay." Waterman looked around. Picked up a piece of paper off the table. "You write down who you want to be delegate on a piece of paper and then put the paper in here." He tapped a birch bark basket next to the stack of paper and box of heavy Russian pencils.

    "What if I can't write?" Clara asked.

    "Not a problem," Gnady said instantly, again surprising himself. "Mr. Stoddard and I will make little pictures for you. If you want to vote for me, you make an x beside my little picture, if you wish to vote for him, you put your mark next to his."

    "What kind of little picture?" Solomon Dundas asked.

    "Well, Mr. Stoddard hunts and fishes for a living, so I'll draw this little fish picture for him." Gnady looked into Stoddard's eyes. "That work for you?"

    "Sure. What you gonna use for yours?"

    "How about a pipe, the kind you smoke." he quickly drew a simple outline, like that."

    "I like this way," Solomon said. "It ain't confusing or nothing."

    "I'll make thirteen ballots and we can get on with it." Gnady sketched them out quickly. There was a part of him that had yearned to create art, but he didn't know where to begin, so he ignored the tiny voice.

    "There, one for each of us." He picked up a square of paper and walked over to a windowsill where he could brace the paper so only he could see it. Carefully, he put an x in front of the pipe.

    Three other ballots already lay in the basket when he dropped his on top. He rubbed his hands together and, feeling self-conscious, moved over and leaned against the wall. He hadn't been this nervous when he asked Tatania to marry him. But, he thought wryly, she had been pregnant at the time and he would have been amazed if she'd turned him down.

    He wiped sweat from his forehead as he looked around. Nobody here was pregnant.

    "Who's gonna count them up?" Clara speaks louder than she needs to, Gnady thought, wondering if her hearing was deteriorating.

    Catherine Alexander said, "Let's you and me do it, Clara.

    Waterman Stoddard wiped his large forehead and leaned against the wall next to Gnady. "If I win, I want you to help me do what I need to do," he said so only Gnady could hear. "If you win I'll do everything I can to help you."

    Gnady held out his hand. "Done."

    They shook.

    Catherine looked up from the two small piles of paper. "Mr. Stoddard, I'm sorry, but you didn't win."

    Gnady's spirit soared upward from the abrupt dip it made when she first called Stoddard's name. One glance at his opponent told him Stoddard had just made the same trip in reverse. They both glared at her.

    "But you only lost by one vote." She fanned the ballots out on the small table. "Everybody can see for themselves."

    Gnady surveyed the room. Other winners and losers were being declared. Some of the winners looked more dejected than did the losers.

    "Congratulations, Mr. Delegate," Waterman shook his hand. "I meant what I said. If I can help."

    "Between us," Gnady said, "we know a great deal. I would that you help me watch them," he nodded toward the noisy room, "to make sure our people are not meanly used."

    "Sounds like a good idea to me." Waterman moved off through the crowd.

    A bell rang and the room went silent.

    "Would the delegates please come up here by me?" Chandalar called out.

    Gnady felt many eyes on him and wondered if the other delegates felt as embarrassed as he did.

    He found himself in the middle of the line. It felt as though a thousand people crowded the room, staring at them.

    "This can stop any time soon," a woman next to him muttered.

    "From my right, over here, please introduce yourselves to the People." Chandalar made it sound like an order.

    "I'm Blue Bostonman," the large woman said. "From Aniak." Gnady could see that she would be a difficult customer if she felt the goods were shoddy.

    "Fredrik Seetamoona, from Elim."

    "Ain't that an Eskimo name?" someone shouted from the crowd.

    "My dad was Yu'pic, but my mom was Dena'. How many of you are Dena' and nothing else?"

    Gnady liked Fredrik's sand.

    "I'm Paul Eluska, from Kokrines, and my granny was Eskimo from up at Anaktuvuk Pass." He nodded at Fredrik. "Hell, me 'n' him are probably cousins."

    The crowd laughed and the tension in the room, which Gnady hadn't realized existed, broke.

    "Eleanor Wright from Nulato." She tossed her head and the long, black-shot-with-silver hair fanned briefly behind her stocky body. Her eyes defied one and all to cross her.

    "My name is Claude Adams," the small, slightly built man said. As he looked around at the crowd, light flashed off his spectacles. He spoke in a soft voice and Gnady knew this one was smarter than himself. "I am from Holy Cross and am part Russian, Eskimo, Aleut, Yankee, and Dena'. I don't how much of which, but it doesn't matter because I am here tonight."

    Applause seemed to burst from the air.

    The bell rang again.

    "We have much to do," Chandalar said. "Next."

    "I am Nicole Grey from Tanana. I will do the best I can."

    Gnady had seen her before, but not in Tanana. He couldn't remember where it was, but he remembered she had the situation well in hand. It gnawed at him. Then he realized he stood next to her and all were waiting for him to speak.

    "I am Gnady Ustinov from Old Crow. My grandfather was a promyshlennik who built an odinochka and settled down. The rest of my family is Dena' and I was named for my grandfather. I own a trading post in Old Crow."

    He stopped and allowed himself to breathe, waiting for someone to object to his presence. The crowd now stared at the man next to him. He smiled, everybody on the Yukon knew Andrew.

    "I am Andrew Isaac of the Dot Lake Dena'. My male ancestors probably slipped into a lot of strange beds, but I'm all Athabascan as far as I know."

    The laughter and applause died quickly.

    "Anna Samuel from Fort Yukon." She possessed extraordinary beauty and yet had to be in her middle-to-late years. She exuded self-possession.

    "I am Alexandr Titus from Minto. We got Russian blood in the family, and pretty near every other kind, too. I got cousins in every village in Dena' country. I'm proud to be here."

    "Joanne Kaiser, I have a small lodge in St. Anthony. I always give full value and I've never let anyone go away hungry. My mother was from the Republic of California and my dad was a Russian-Dena' soldier. But I'm here to help."

    "Kurt Bachmann, from Klahotsa." The large man glowered at them all, made sure nobody else was speaking before he again opened his mouth. "I'm here to protect what is mine, what I have earned. I suspect what we just did is illegal, even treasonous, and I'm going to make sure everything follows the letter of the Czar's law"

    "Mr. Bachmann," Chan's voice sounded cold enough to shatter, "this is a revolution. We no longer wish to follow the Czar's laws and the purpose of this body is to successfully throw off the Russian yoke. Do you understand that?"

    "So who's gonna run things, make the rules, enforce what laws?"

    "We're working on it. But there is no way we can allow anyone loyal to the Czar to remain in this room. You either swear to serve the Dena' People above all others, to fight their enemies, and defend their borders, or you leave now."

    "I'm not a Dena', but I live here, I own a business, I serve as leader in my village. What you just asked me to swear allegiance to is everything I believe in, but why are we fighting the Czar?"

    "You're in the fight, Mr. Bachmann, either on our side or the Czar's. Which is it?"

    "I'm with you, of course, you've got me surrounded." He laughed and looked around at the others. Nobody laughed with him.

    "Would the next delegate please introduce himself?"

    "Joshua Golovin," the big man said, looking over at Bachmann. "Chena Redoubt, where the Russians treat you like moose shit. I need help to show them the error of their ways."

    "I am Wing Demoski, from Beaver, I used to teach school with my husband until promyshlenniks killed him and thought they killed me. Soon after, I joined the DSM and killed all three of the animals that took my old life. I have been killing the Czar's cossacks and promyshlenniks ever since. I believe in the Dena' Republik!"

    Everyone in the room applauded.

    Gnady felt a thrill of pure pleasure when the last delegate spoke.

    "I am Ambrose Ambrose from the village of Nabesna, on the Nabesna River. We're all related to everyone in Northway, just across the river."

    "I thank everyone for their participation," Chandalar said in a loud voice, "and now ask all but the delegates to leave the building. We have much to do."

    "We can't watch?" an old man asked in a querulous tone.

    "I'm sorry." Chandalar's voice seemed made of stone. "But since we don't know everyone, we can't let anyone not on the council or their immediate advisors, sit in and listen. We will make reports at the end of each day. Thank you all for understanding."

    Gnady waved Waterman Stoddard over. "You're my advisor, okay?"

    "Thanks. But let's call me chief of advisors, that way we can get more people in here."

    "Chandalar's voice boomed out, "Delegates, introduce your advisors if they exist."

    Questions raised about the definition of advisor were quickly answered. During the quick debate more than one person yawned.

    "We have a growing army," Chandalar said. "We need a general to run it. If there is anyone you know who can do a better job than Slayer-of-Men, I want to hear about it right now."

    Slayer-of-Men was known the length and breadth of the Yukon and Kuskokwim Rivers. He had visited every village, every odinochka, every squalid "Indian town" clustered at the edge of the redoubts. Wherever he went, he insulted those who looked at the world differently, and recruited every malcontent he met.

    His brother, Malagni, even more fearsome and far less diplomatic, always accompanied him. When they visited Old Crow, the thought had crossed Gnady's mind that these two didn't need anyone else, they were an army. Gnady couldn't offer an alternative.

    It seemed no one could.

    "Therefore we declare Slayer-of-Men the General of the Dena' Army," Chandalar said in his best hard voice. "All in favor, say 'Aye'."

    Gnady truly thought every person in the room said, "Aye."

    "All opposed, say 'Nay'.'

    "Nay," said Stoddard and Bachmann.

    Chandalar glared at Stoddard. "Only delegates may vote!"

    "Oh, sorry."

    Nathan Roubitaux was elected Minister for War. Then the real work began.

    "You there in the second row, do you have a question?" First Speaker Chandalar asked.

    Gnady took a deep breath, glanced once at Bachmann, and then said, "Yes, I have questions. If we win this war, what then? Who will take the place of the Czar for us? What kind of government are we going to have in a Dena' Republic?"

    Chandalar looked blank for far too long before answering.

    "Those are very good questions, Gnady. Well, once the war is won we will convene a committee to write a constitution. Every village in the Dena' Republic will select and send a delegate and those delegates will comprise that committee."

    "What's to keep us, the council, I mean, from just taking over and running things from here on out?"

    "Our word that we won't." Chan let his gaze move over everyone in the room. "Our People put us around this table for a reason. We're fighting a war against the Czar for our independence. When we have won that war, and we will, this council will disband and go home."

    Nicole Gray stood up. "So who's going to make all the arrangements for this constitution meeting? Where's it going to be?"

    "What we have now is called a provisional government," Chandalar said. "That government will run the Dena' Republic until a new government is formed. I will remain as First Speaker until a new one is elected under the provisions of our new constitution."

    Nathan stood and waited for the room to quiet. "What we have here is something between an experiment and destiny. There are no rules yet, we have to make them together."

 

---

 

    The first War Council convened. Only the Council members and key officials were allowed inside the room.

    Grisha sat behind Wing; he had accepted her invitation to be her advisor. The 14 men and women around the long table chatted for a half hour in an effort to get to know each other better.

    Finally they debated what action to take first.

    "We have to neutralize their air force or we're done before we start," Minto's Alexandr Titus said.

    "They got a lot of planes over here, too," another added.

    "For those of you who don't know," Nathan said, "we have generous allies who have already provided us military aid. Without their Kalashnikovs the fight at Toklat could have ended very differently. We have also received three anti-aircraft batteries. What we need to do is ambush their air force."

    "What do our 'generous allies' expect in return for their military aid?" Eleanor Wright, the Nulato delegate asked.

    "There has been nothing asked in return to my knowledge," Nathan said, his voice level had risen and all registered his discomfort.

    "Eleanor raises a good point," Andrew Isaac, the Dot Lake chief said. "Why would they risk the Czar's wrath for nothing?"

    "Perhaps they have other differences with the Czar," Nathan said. His voice had leveled out and he sounded almost disinterested.

    Claude Adams raised his hand. Nathan nodded.

    "If we rely on assistance from the Lower Nine, we are merely changing masters. This has to be a predominantly Dena' operation or we are doomed to another century of servitude."

 

---

 

    "But if we throw off the yoke of the Czar," Ambrose Ambrose said, "what is to be expected in return? Can we back a military operation where the army we field takes over our lives and rules by force?"

    "Your fantasies are entertaining, but have nothing to do reality," Nathan said with heat. "For what purpose would you suggest that our army might subjugate us all?"

    "For the most ancient of reasons, Mr. Speaker: power," Claude said, fervor in his voice. "Once power is won there are few men big enough or honorable enough to surrender the scepter. This is not a concept to be ignored."

    "Nor is it a concept we should waste time with now," Joanne Kaiser, the lithe delegate from St. Anthony said. "We can decide later how we will rule ourselves, first we have to have something to rule!"

    Fredrik Seetamoona rose to his feet and waited for a chance to speak.

    "Every speaker here has brought up subjects that must be dealt with before we can become a nation. But the lovely lady is correct in her inference that we have nothing yet to rule. I live but a few versts, sorry, kilometers, from Bridge.

    "I know how massive the garrison is in that place, I know we must mount an overwhelming assault in order to hold Bridge in order to deny more Russian armor from passing into the land of the Dena', the land of my mother. Therefore I implore you to first fight this war and then argue about politics. We have no time to waste." He sat down.

    The room remained silent for nearly a full minute.

    "First things first. What we going to use as bait for this attack on their air force?" the Tanana delegate, Nicole Gray, asked.

    "How about their own radio?" Grisha suggested.

    "Excellent idea," Nathan said from the head of the table.

    "But where?" Alexandr Titus asked.

    "I've asked our military people that very question," Nathan said. "Will you hear their answer?"

    Every delegate nodded.

    "Slayer-of-Men, would you share what the military has decided?"

    The tall warrior stood. "I am honored. There is only one place that is midway between the aerodromes at Teslin Redoubt and Fort Yukon." He walked over to the wall map of Russian Amerika and tapped it. "Right here. Of course it helps that we have those three anti-aircraft batteries dug in around the target area."

    A few delegates laughed, most were thoughtful.

    "That's our recommendation."

    "Does the council agree?" Nathan asked.

    It did.

    Nathan rubbed his hands together. "Now we have to choose which Russian redoubts in the Dena' Republik we will attack and in what order."

    "Hit them one at a time?" Ambrose Ambrose asked sharply.

    "Yes, but all over the Republik. Say first we hit Chena and then two days later we hit St. Anthony. If we can keep them off balance for a week or two, we might even achieve diplomatic recognition from other countries.

    "There are silent allies in many North Amerikan governments who would advocate for us as soon as we make our cause more than small guerilla actions. But we will have to hold what we take to make us viable in their eyes. The most important thing is that nobody in this room says anything to anybody outside this room about what is said here. People like to talk and we can't let that happen."

    Grisha spotted Hamish McCloud on the other side of the gallery. The small man wore a sardonic smile.

    "Do we have enough people to hit all the redoubts at once?" Tanana's Nicole Grey asked.

    "We'd have the element of surprise but hitting everywhere at once would spread our forces far too thin, especially since we have to consolidate our victories. Our army is not large." Nathan stared around the table.

    "We have to use deception and fight with everything we have, otherwise we'll fail and the Czar will see all of us dead. We are fighting for our lives. If we lose this war, the Russians will kill every one of us. The lucky ones will die fast."

    "Okay," Alexandr Titus said firmly, "how do we go about this?"

    "First we identify the targets, and then we decide how to reduce them to rubble."

    "Please explain to me that air force ambush," Gnady said.

    Nathan moved to the large map on the wall. "If we put the transmitter here," he tapped the paper where Slayer-of-Men had indicated, "with our three anti-aircraft guns ringing the target," he drew a circle on the map, "and put a few dozen Kalashnikovs here, here and here."

    "You think they're gonna send all their planes?" Nicholas Golovin from Chena asked.

    "What if this don't work?" Ambrose Ambrose asked.

    Two more hours of debate changed nothing. After the assembly officially ended, most stayed in the room, talking about points on which they differed.

    Grisha moved out into the night and stared up at the Aurora Borealis. Someone moved beside him and he glanced over to see Wing. She looked up at the northern lights.

    "My granny used to say they could come down and cut your head off if you made too much noise when they were out."

    "Did you believe her?" Grisha asked, glancing up uneasily.

    "No. But I knew she believed it, so I didn't argue."

    Grisha felt a rush of desire for her. The memory of her quick kiss weeks ago burned in his mind. He kept his gaze fixed on the glowing ions above, wondering what to do.

    She moved closer to him.

    "I think I should go back in," he said softly.

    "Why?"

    "Because if I don't, I'm going to grab you and kiss you." He looked at her then and her large brown eyes seemed to envelop him.

    "That's exactly what I want you to do. "But that's all you can do."

    "Okay," he said, pulling her close.

    Singly, in pairs, and small groups, the delegates left for their villages or joined the companies of volunteers raised by every village along the Yukon, Kuskokwim, Melosi, Black, Koyukuk, Porcupine, Stewart, and Tanana Rivers. Momentum for independence from the Czar built slowly but never faltered.