Russian Amerika: Chapter Forty One

41 - Chena Redoubt

    "Yes, Mr. Ambassador," Haimish said, addressing the small speaker in front of him. "I have a message for Mr. Busch, he's on President Cuomo's staff."

    "I know Keith, what do you want me to tell him?

    "Tell him that Operation Nicky is already at stage three, the stage three is very important, sir."

    "And this will do what for your situation?"

    "I'm hoping it means quick diplomatic recognition for the Dena' Republik."

    "Do you realize what you're asking? If the United States grants diplomatic recognition to the DSM at this point, every dissatisfied minority in the world would be out cutting throats in hours. I mean no disrespect to your hosts, but we have to back our diplomacy with our lives."

    "Excuse me, Mr. Ambassador," Nathan said quickly, "but you have a double investment here, perhaps triple."

    "Whom am I addressing, please?"

    "Chandalar Roy, Co-director of the Dena' Separatist Movement and President of the Dena' Republic."

    "Ah, pleased to meet you, Mr. President. I assume you have heard our entire conversation?"

    "Sadly enough, yes, Mr. Ambassador. My illusions have fled."

    "I'm glad you can assess the big picture from there."

    "As I said, Mr. Ambassador, you have quite a large investment here in Alaska."

    "Please elucidate, Mr. President."

    "You have already blown most of your intelligence-gathering network by virtue of this uplink. Even if we do not carry the day very soon, the new treaty between the western republiks and Russian Amerika will vaporize like piss at 70 below." Chan's voice hardened as he continued.

    "We already enjoy political alignment with the United States of America. Events now demand that you are either with us or against us - neutrality is no help. As our situation is desperate, I need a reply in three days time." He hesitated for a long moment before going on in a brisk voice. "We will treat the lack of a reply after that time as a negative response. You do understand, of course?"

    "Yes, Mr. President, I understand. Now if you'll excuse me-" Static gushed from the speaker.

    "Three days?" Haimish said wonderingly. "That bunch can't decide what to talk about in only three days. You've scuttled your boat, lad."

    "Haimish, for Christ's sake stop that atrocious accent," Nathan said wearily, dropping onto a chair, "it's giving me a headache."

    Grisha stared at the speaker, wishing it would tell something of California or the United States. The door opened and a group of people streamed into the room. Whatever retort Haimish was about to make died on his lips.

    Grisha looked up to see Valari Kominskiya and the promyshlennik whose face he had scarred.

    "What have we here?" Nathan asked.

    "Scouts for the Czar," Slayer-of-Men said with a slow smile. "In the form of a cossack major and a promyshlennik."

    "Where are you from?" Nathan asked the prisoners idly.

    "Tet-" Bear began before Valari's bare hand slapped his cheek.

    "Shut up, you fool! Information is ammunition for them."

    "Major Kominskiya is correct," Nathan said. "Ah, Bear is it?"

    Bear Crepov stared wonderingly at the man.

    Grisha shook his head and slowly got to his feet.

    "They were preparing to do us harm when we stopped them," Slayer-of-Men said. "Instead they made a very nice report about how Lieutenant Andreanoff and his men were retaking the redoubt from mutinous traitors. We don't have much time, Nathan."

    "Do we have three days?"

    "Probably not."

    Grisha pointed at Valari. "This woman is poisonous. She has absolutely no morals and will be your death if you trust her in the slightest." He blinked heavily, so tired he felt drunk.

    Nik stepped out of the shadows at the back of the room.

    "I'll second that. Major Valari Kominskiya is a member of the Okhana Cossacks who has attained two promotions in the past six months. Such speed through the ranks is unheard of."

    Valari gave him a burning glance.

    "I don't know about that," she snapped, "they made you a captain, didn't they?"

    Grisha almost laughed. She had more scrotum than most men.

    "She's one of the main architects behind the plan to infiltrate the movement," Nik continued. "She condemned Grisha to death."

    Valari stared down at the floor. "Would you at least put me in a cell so I can get some sleep?" she said tiredly.

    "She's hiding something," Nathan said with a rush.

    "What's wrong?" Nik asked.

    Valari and Bear began to unbutton their heavy parkas.

    "There's something hidden. On her, I think."

    Valari's hands stopped moving and she stared at Nathan. "Do you read minds?"

    "Get her parka off," Nathan yelled.

    Slayer-of-Men ran a knife down the front of the garment and jerked. Buttons hailed across the stone floor as he roughly pulled it off her. A small, flat-black box hung between her breasts on a cord around her neck.

    "What is that?" Slayer-of-Men asked.

    Nathan stood up, grabbed it and jerked, breaking the cord as well as off-balancing Valari.

    "It's a location transmitter," Nathan said and threw the box against the stone wall as hard as he could. It broke into countless pieces.

    Valari laughed. "If they paid attention, there's an air strike on the way," she said through a twisted smile.

    Something snapped in Grisha and he raised his machine-pistol to kill her once and for all.

    The walls seemed to scream. Concussion beyond sound knocked everybody off their feet. The floor sharply heaved and every light bulb in the room exploded, plunging them into darkness. They heard explosions and the roar of attacking planes.

    Screams and shouts filtered through sudden smoke. The room rocked with another blast. A light pierced the stygian blackness and a voice shouted above the din.

    "This way! Come this way! It leads to the lower levels."

    Grisha didn't try to stand. He maintained a tight grip on his weapon and scrambled toward the light on all fours. And ran into somebody.

    "Sorry, didn't see-" with a stomach-wrenching jolt, he realized the person was dead. He rolled the body over and peered at the face. Haimish stared glassily upward toward the gory cleft in his head left by a piece of concrete. Despair washed over Grisha.

    He dropped Haimish and continued moving toward the flickering light. People scrambled between him and the battery lantern, semaphoring messages of terror and flight. As he got to the door another explosion smashed them down.

    The light disappeared. Grisha's mind swam hard against the currents of concussion. Something tugged at him.

    "Grisha," Wing said with a note of anguish. "You must help me, I can't pull your weight by myself."

    The urgency in her voice spurred him into dizzy action. He moved his feet blindly, and with her tugging at him, fell down an incline littered with hard edges. Dimly he realized he sprawled on stone steps.

    "Wait," he said tiredly. "I need to clear my head a little."

    "Very well," she said, releasing his arm. "But there is fire up there and the smoke will get to this level soon."

    "I, know." He gently cupped his hands over his ears. Her voice sounded like a whisper, but logic told him that she must be talking very loudly - if not shouting. His head felt stuffed with cotton.

    One ear leaked blood.

    Shit. Maybe I'm dying.

    Fear lifted him back to full consciousness. "I'm ready," he said loudly.

    "You don't gotta scream at me," Wing snapped.

    "Oh, I thought I was deafened."

    "Come on." She turned and moved carefully down steps outlined by a glow of light from around a distant corner.