Russian Amerika: Chapter Fifty Nine

59 - Chena Redoubt

    Three weeks inched by unattended by conflict. The sudden absence of the enemy proved more worrisome than coping with solitary fighters or squadrons of gun ships. Grisha sent out more and more scouts, posted double sentries, constantly anticipating the sudden appearance of another Russian armored column or more camouflaged ground troops.

    Where were the Russians, Grisha wondered, reading the pamphlets the Dena' propaganda department printed by the bale?

    The Dena' Army constantly worked on rebuilding Chena Redoubt. More recruits drifted in to be turned into soldiers and the bitter truth of February softened into the false promises of March.

    Bodies recovered from the broken redoubt were placed in an unheated building to wait for thawed ground later in the year. For three weeks four men worked from dawn to dusk building coffins. Unless hers was one of the unidentifiable charred bodies, Valari Kominskiya did not number among the dead.

    Grisha chafed and worried at the interminable waiting. "Anything from the diplomatic front?" he asked Wing for the third time that morning.

    "Same as yesterday - the Czar's representative insists this is an internal matter for Russia to settle, and the NATO countries are saying it's a revolution. We should be thankful that the Yanks, the First People's Nation, and the Californians have such an independence-minded history."

    "There's more to it than their history," Grisha said, "I'll give you odds on that."

    A truck roared up next to the building and labored in unmuffled cacophony for a long moment before shutting down. Doors slammed and Wing smiled over at Grisha. "I think we've got company."

    The door to the outer office slammed and a loud indistinct voice could be heard through the wall. Knuckles rapped briskly on the office door and Sergeant Major Tobias appeared.

    "There's a woman here to see you, colonel. She says to tell you she's blue." His eyebrows arched for a moment in disbelief and he whispered, "But she's no more blue than I am, sir. Should I call the guard?"

    Grisha and Wing burst into laughter and the sergeant frowned. Describing himself as a "clerical mercenary," Sergeant Major Nelson Tobias had appeared at the front gate of Chena Redoubt a week before. With his expert assistance they put order to the command structure and the sergeant major became gate keeper for both Wing and Grisha. The man was a military treasure but knew nothing about the Dena' Republik or the Council.

    "Her name is Blue Bostonman," Grisha said once he could speak again. "Do show her in, and treat her as if she were a general."

    With a muttered, "Very good, sir," he disappeared and moments later Blue hurried through the door.

    "Where did you get him?"

    "Where do we get any of them?" Wing said, crossing the room and hugging the older woman. "How are you?"

    "Tired." She glanced at Grisha. "And the bearer of news."

    "Good or bad?" Wing asked.

    "Both. What do you want to hear first?"

    "Bad news first," Grisha said, coming to his feet.

    "You've been accused of war crimes by the Imperial Army. Armistice negotiations have broken down in San Francisco. The Russians refuse to continue until you are produced to answer their charges, or you're relieved of command and imprisoned by us."

    "War crimes! What war crimes?"

    "You're accused of throwing a Russian major, a woman yet, out into minus 60 degrees without clothing." Blue measured him with her eyes. "Claude maintains that you wouldn't do such a thing but we need you to go south, immediately."

    "It happened," Grisha said softly and sat down in his chair. "But I didn't do it."

    "Benny Jackson did it," Wing said flatly. "I was there."

    "That's true," Grisha said. "I wanted to just kill her and get it over with. They want me to go south?"

    Blue nodded. "The Californians are sending an aircraft for you."

    "What does the council say about it?"

    "The war seems to be in a hiatus while the negotiations proceed. We're eager for a resolution and a treaty. We feel very close to victory. There's a lot of pressure being generated in Europe and even Imperial Japanese warships have been sighted off Kodiak Island."

    "It stinks," Wing said flatly. "There's more to this than meets the eye."

    "I asked the council to let me be the messenger. We figure no more than three days down there should do it. Think of it as a vacation, Grisha."

    "Am I being put on trial?"

    "You're to answer questions put to you by a panel of representatives. Two representatives from each member nation of the North American Treaty Organization as well as Imperial Russia and the Dena' Republik. They have no true authority over you, this is all politics and propaganda. Smoke and mirrors."

    "Some vacation," Wing muttered.

    "You need to come back to Tanana with me. They're going to pick you up in the morning. We'll have to drive all night."

    Grisha felt his resolve waver. All of his instincts screamed in alarm but he could see no alternative. "I will obey the council's wishes."

    "Grisha!" Wing moved between him and Blue. "Didn't you hear me? This stinks, dammit. There's something going on that they haven't told us."

    "Who is they?" Blue said, sudden ice in her voice.

    Wing swung around to face her. "This smells like a sacrifice to me. There are at least five witnesses still alive who could tell them that Grisha wasn't the one who threw that bitch out into the cold. Has anyone asked the Californians about it? Has anyone asked Captain Jackson about it?"

    "He's a colonel now," Blue snapped. "This is a delicate political situation. We have to give every indication of complying with the wishes of the NATO countries in order to maintain their backing, the ones we have that is. We're dead without them, don't you see that?"

    "All I see is that Grisha didn't do what he's accused of, that he's doing a hell of a job and he's needed right here until this whole thing is finished once and for all."

    "I have orders," Blue tapped her pocket, "for Grisha to return to Tanana with me immediately. If you wish to question the council's intelligence I suggest you accompany us back to Tanana. But one way or another, Grisha is going with me."

    "What do you mean, 'one way or another?'" Grisha asked.

    "This wasn't my idea," Blue said. "But they sent a squad with me as security and escort."

    "A squad!" Wing shrilled. "Do you realize this garrison would die for him if asked?"

    "Yes." Blue seemed on the verge of tears. "So please don't push it."

    "Am I under arrest?" Grisha asked quietly.

    "No. We'd never go that far. But we need you to go south and talk to these people, Grisha. Will you please do that?"

    "Didn't I tell you once that I'd do anything for the Dena' Republik? Let me collect my things."

    "You said something about good news?" Wing said.

    "Malagni!" Blue shouted.

    The big man pushed through the door. The absence of his right arm in no way diminished him. He grinned fiercely.

    "Two of my most favorite people in the world. Things must be tough to make you a colonel. But I have to tell you, your little ambush out there on the RustyCan really impressed me. That fancy-ass colonel your guys captured is a cousin of the Czar, and he's blabbing his ass off."

    Grisha and Wing embraced him, patted his back. Wing reached up and kissed his cheek. "We were so worried about you."

    Grisha stepped back, looked up into the man's face. "Are you returning to duty?"

    Malagni glanced at Blue. "You didn't tell them?"

    "Not all of it."

    He turned back to the others. "They made me a Lieutenant Colonel. I'm taking over Southern Command until you come back, Grisha. That okay with you?"

    Conflicting emotions warred in Grisha's mind. He tried to smile, wasn't sure if he made it. "They couldn't have chosen anyone better. Lieutenant Colonel Demoski is the best executive officer you could ask for."

    "I know. I want you to know that I'm doing this for you - when you get back there's no question as to who's the skipper."