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  “Please help me sit up,” Cermanivich said.

  Jerry grabbed the man’s wrist and hauled him to a sitting position. It took much less effort than he thought it would. Rudi gasped, sat still for a long moment, then began eating and looking around at the same time.

  “We are not in last remembered location. River is different, and ridge is gone. Who carried me here?”

  Between bites Jerry told him about the dogs and the litter lash-up.

  “You helped carry me?”

  “I told you, our war is over until we can return to our own people. Don’t you agree?”

  Cermanivich looked up from his food. “I agreed in concept, I never believe you mean it.”

  “Oh hell, Rudi, I don’t mean it. I’m going to shoot you the first chance I get.”

  “Do not believe that, either,” Rudi said with a laugh. “You are very different from other armies I have fought. I do not think you are good soldier, but you are good man, for which I remain grateful.”

  “Thanks, I think,” Jerry said, running back over it in his mind, trying to decide if he should feel insulted.

  Pelagian loomed over them before sitting next to the litter. “We will sleep in Delta the day after tomorrow, if you both can handle the pace. I realize that neither of you are Yukon Cassidy.”

  Rudi lay back and grinned. “Is no problem for me.”

  “Lieutenant?” The blue eyes gleamed at Jerry.

  “I’ve had a night’s sleep and a full meal, you bet I can handle it.”

  “Good. Today you wear the harness in front.”

  “But I don’t know where I’m going.”

  “Just follow Magda,” Pelagian gave him a wolfish grin. “You can do that, can’t you?”

  “Definitely,” Jerry said, holding the man’s gaze. “Who’s Yukon Cassidy?”

  “A warrior of legend, and he holds his own. I am honored to have him as a friend.”

  “Will I meet him?”

  “If you are fortunate.”

  A half hour later they stretched out down the trail headed north. Jerry found his stride and, in addition to watching Magda in front of him, appreciated the landscape around them. They climbed a ridge and dropped down into a wide valley.

  In the distance Jerry noticed a mountain he had seen from his plane. At this elevation it loomed even more majestically. He called ahead to Magda, “What do you call that?”

  She glanced back to see where he pointed, followed the direction with her eyes and came to a complete stop.

  “That is Denali. A holy place for our people and the heart of the Dená Nation.”

  “Oh. It sorta reminds me of Mt. Shasta back in the Republic.”

  She turned to him, eyes shining. “You also have a holy mountain?”

  “Not everybody regards it that way, but yes.”

  Bodecia walked back down the trail to them, her eyebrows arched. “May we continue now?”

  Pelagian chuckled and said in a low voice, “I wouldn’t waste any more time if I were you.”

  Jerry grinned back over his shoulder. “I thought you were in charge here.”

  “A woman is not property, and husbands who think otherwise are living in a dream world. My friend Bob told me that and he was right.”

  “He sounds like wise man,” Rudi commented. “Is permissible to sing?”

  “No!” Jerry and Pelagian said simultaneously.

  “You two worry me.”

  The lower elevations of the valley brought more water, standing and active. They forded two cold, fast-moving creeks. Jerry noticed early that they followed a trail; a mere suggestion in some places and well defined in others. Now the trail bore unmistakable wheel tracks as well as those of human and animal.

  “How much farther to Delta?” Jerry asked Magda.

  She dropped back and in a low voice said, “Just beyond the mountain you see in the distance there.” She pointed. They were going through a vast stretch of willows, more bushes than trees; the tallest stood no more than two meters.

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “Because we are very near a redoubt, and we do not wish to explain your presence to the Russians.”

  “Listen to her,” Rudi said in a low voice. “They would kill us all.”

  “Even you?” Jerry whispered.

  “I am among enemies and still breathe, therefore traitor to the Czar. The Imperial Russian Army is bereft of nuance or sentiment.”

  “Do you want to go in alone?”

  “How to explain presence in this condition? I am too many versts from my command, perhaps deserter? No, I stay with you.”

  A birdcall drifted back and Pelagian snapped, “Quiet! Get off the trail.”

  Magda spoke to the dogs and they followed her into the brush. She led them down into a small depression and spoke again. All four dogs quietly lay down, tongues lolling. Pelagian slipped out of his sling and pulled a hatchet from the pack Magda had carried.

  “You all wait here quietly,” he said. He disappeared toward the trail.

  Jerry unbuckled the harness and gratefully let it slide to the ground. Not since flight school when he was a cadet had he expended this much effort on a continuous basis. He eased to the ground next to Rudi’s litter and fell into a light doze.

  Something pressed firmly over his mouth and his eyes popped open to see Magda holding her other hand up, index finger over her mouth. He nodded his head and she took her hand off him. She handed him his automatic.

  He dropped the clip enough to see it was still full. As he quietly pressed the clip back into the pistol butt, he looked around, finally catching Magda’s eye again. He elaborately shrugged.

  She knelt down beside him and pointed toward the wall of brush between them and the trail. Suddenly he heard the voices. Unknown voices, speaking Russian.

  Jerry slowly pulled the barrel back on the automatic until he could see the round in the chamber. He glanced around.

  Rudi lay belly down on his litter, holding a huge revolver in both hands and aiming toward the voices. Both Pelagian and Bodecia were nowhere to be seen. Jerry’s heartbeat increased and his mouth felt dry.

  The summer sun beat down from a cloudless sky and mosquitoes circled round them. Sweat stung his eyes but he didn’t move. The voices were no more than fifteen meters away; he could hear boots scuffing the small rocks and dirt on the trail despite the breeze high in the willows. The constant wind wasn’t strong enough to get down to where he crouched.

  Time hadn’t slowed this much for him since he had to watch an ice cube melt when he was a child. Back then he had been restricted to a chair until the ice turned to a puddle. Now he had no idea what was required of him other than staying alive.

  The voices receded slightly and Jerry’s heartbeat slowed. He smiled over at Magda just as she unsuccessfully tried to muffle her sneeze.

  One of the unseen voices said something short and sharp. Silence grew and Jerry’s heartbeat increased. The barrel of his .45 trembled and he wished he could stop sweating.

  “Yaaaahhhhh!”

  Three Russian soldiers burst through the brush, nearly overrunning them. Two held rifles at high port, the third led with his machine pistol pointed forward.

  Jerry, Magda, and Rudi all shot the man with the machine pistol, who fell flat in front of them, instantly dead. The other two soldiers jerked their weapons down toward the three. Multiple shots rang out and both men lost all coordination and collapsed, dead before they hit the ground.

  Silence reigned as dust motes drifted and settled.

  A hoarse shout in Russian from beyond the brush: “Shout out, comrades!”

  More silence.

  Abruptly a heavy weapon opened up, spraying the area with large caliber rounds. Three rounds hit the dead Russian directly in front of Jerry, causing the corpse to jerk as if it felt the damage.

  Somewhere out in the brush Pelagian said, “Damn, they hit me!”

  “Father!” Magda yelled and started to her feet.


  Jerry grabbed her arm and jerked her back down.

  She turned on him with bared teeth. “What do you—”

  Thick fire stitched through the brush over their heads, blowing the small trees in half with single rounds. The sharp scent of sap and cut wood joined the light haze of cordite in the air.

  “We have to put an end to that one,” Rudi said with a growl. “You go left, I’ll go right.”

  Before Jerry could say anything, Rudi grabbed the machine pistol out of the dead corporal’s hands and wriggled into the brush, grunting with effort. Jerry grabbed one of the fallen rifles and quickly made sure it was loaded.

  “Stay here and shoot anyone who comes crawling through the brush. We’ll be on our feet.”

  Magda stared at him with wide eyes. “Da.”

  Jerry crawled through the dust and weeds, slowed when he came to an opening in the brush before him. This was another reason he hadn’t joined the infantry: he hated being dirty.

  He stopped in front of the opening, listening intently. Panting, he heard pain being unsuccessfully suppressed.

  “It’s Yamato,” he whispered and pushed through the opening.

  At the side of a wounded Pelagian, Bodecia held a machine pistol, pointing at Jerry. As soon as she saw his face she aimed at the brush in front of them.

  “He’s hit in the side,” she said a low, emotionless tone.

  “I need the automatic weapon.”

  They silently traded weapons.

  “Thanks, I’ll be right back.” Jerry crawled as quietly as he could away from the couple before turning toward where he knew the enemy lurked. The heavy willows moved in the breeze and were easy for him to negotiate but he knew the top portion of the branches signaled his advance. He backed up and moved down into a small swale before stopping to rest.

  The hammer of the heavy weapon followed the bullets chopping down willows wholesale, right where he had turned back. He shrieked, “Ahhh!” and hoped for the best.

  The fire ceased and he immediately squirmed down the leveled path, appreciating how much the downed willows suppressed the dust. If the Russian gunner believed his cry, Rudi might believe it too, and do something foolish.

  But what if the Russian didn’t believe his cry, what if he was waiting for a stupid first lieutenant to stumble through the trees so he could cut him in half?

  His heart hammered and Jerry found it difficult to swallow. Heat suffused the entire universe and he tried not to think about water. Suddenly he ran out of the downed willows and stopped. With his mouth hanging open, he desperately listened for any sound beyond the bluish-green leaves screening him from the threat beyond.

  The rattle of a machine gun belt carried through the dusty air. Jerry decided the gunner was reloading. He sat back on his haunches and rose to his feet, hunched over and terrified. He decided it was now or never.

  He charged through the willows and into the open.

  2

  90 miles east of St. Anthony Redoubt

  For at least the thousandth time, Lieutenant Colonel Samedi Janeki wished the Imperial Russian Army would line tank hatches with rubber or something softer than steel. His kidneys were taking a beating as the Imperial 5th Armored rumbled toward Chena Redoubt from Tetlin Redoubt.

  The Russian Amerika Company could certainly profit by making the Russia-Canada Highway more travel friendly. The smallest stone in the semi-packed surface looked larger than his fist. But then his column of 30 tanks, 15 trucks and assorted other vehicles were tearing along at 15 kph, which made it impossible for his driver to avoid the larger rocks.

  As his Zukhov jarred over yet another small boulder, his radioman broke in on his comm channel.

  “Colonel, communication from St. Nicholas Redoubt!”

  “Patch it in, Kerenski.” A click transferred him to a different frequency. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Janeki of the 5th Armored.”

  “Janeki,” the voice came through scratchy, “this is Skalovich.”

  “Georgi, my friend, how are you?” They had been friends for over twenty years and Georgi, a full colonel, now sat behind an impressive desk in St. Nicholas Redoubt as deputy commander of Northern Land Forces in Russian Amerika. Georgi would get a star before Janeki did.

  “My health is good, thank you, Samedi. But I must make you aware of bad news.”

  “I’m being replaced?”

  Colonel Skalovich forced a laugh. “No, nothing like that. In fact at the moment you are irreplaceable. Lazarev and the Flash Division have been destroyed crossing the Alaska Range.”

  “Destroyed, by whom?”

  “The Republic of California Air Force.” Janeki could hear the disgust in his friend’s voice. “They’ve also cut the road. Now everything must go through Tetlin first.”

  “Don’t worry, Georgi, the 5th Armored can handle the mission.”

  “I am not finished with bad news, Samedi. Tetlin Redoubt is under armored attack from the east.”

  “California again?”

  “No, the First People’s Nation. They have taken the British Army out of the war and are hitting Tetlin with at least three dozen tanks. You took all our armor with you, didn’t you?”

  “As ordered,” Janeki said, angry that his voice had tightened along with his jaw.

  “I know those were your orders, I issued them. This FPN thing caught us flatfooted. We do have artillery and infantry there, and they are offering a stiff resistance.”

  Janeki instantly felt mollified. “Do you want me to stop my advance and return to Tetlin, Colonel?”

  “No. You should be linking up with your old mentor Myslosovich within twenty-four hours. He has lost his ass at Chena and will be full of doom and gloom. Turn him around and hit Chena again, we need to be as deep into Dená territory as possible when the cease-fire order comes down.”

  “Cease-fire order? Why would they do that, we’re just getting started in this wasteland. Only a small fraction of the army has been committed to stop this piddling revolt.”

  “It’s not common knowledge yet. Imperial Command is trying to pull its fat out of the fire, but most of the Pacific Fleet went to the bottom day before yesterday, courtesy of the Republic of California Navy.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Janeki breathed into the microphone.

  “It gets worse, Samedi. No sooner than the diplomats asked for peace terms, the Japanese Navy started shelling Naval Base Kodiak.”

  “The Japanese?” Janeki shouted. “Where the hell did they come from?”

  “It seems the Kolosh are pulling the same crap on us the Dená did. Only they asked the Japanese for military aid rather than the USA or the ROC.”

  “Who isn’t up here messing in our internal affairs?”

  “As near as we can figure, the CSA, Republic of Texas, and Deseret.”

  “Well that’s a damned relief, no religious zealots to worry about!”

  “I don’t think the Mormons have an army as such.”

  “Mormons? I was speaking of the Confederacy, wild-eyed Protestants to the last man.”

  Colonel Skalovich’s laugh was genuine this time. “I’m glad you still have your sense of humor, my friend, because you’re going to need it.”

  “Any idea when this cease-fire order will come down from on high?”

  “No. We know the Baltic Fleet has steamed east to help, but we don’t know if they will be in time to make a difference. In my opinion, high command has put Alaska further down the list of important things to think about. I think they’re worried about Mother Russia’s east coast with the Japanese threat.”

  “So we are fighting a lost cause, Georgi?”

  “Perhaps, Samedi, perhaps.”

  “Not if I can help it, old friend!”

  3

  Tanana Hospital, Dená Republik

  “What is the status of our army, General Eluska?” General Grisha Grigorievich, commanding general of the fledgling Dená Republik Army asked impatiently from his hospital bed.

  Paul Eluska flashed
a shy grin and then settled back into his new role.

  “Sorry about your leg, Grisha. I sent them California paratroopers under Colonel Buhrman and Major Smolst with a platoon of our guys after the retreating Russians. Between ’em they got about two hundred men. Then Colonel Jackson showed up with his California Rangers, another two hundred men, and I told him to go find Colonel Buhrman’s group and help out.”

  “Are the Russians still fighting or just getting the hell out of Huslia?”

  “They ain’t nowhere near Huslia, Grisha,” Paul said with a frown. “They’re headed for Delta.”

  “I’m just trying to be funny or something, can’t do much else with this leg all trussed up. What’s in Delta?”

  “That’s where St. Anthony Redoubt is, with a small Russian garrison that’s never seen combat yet, all fresh and ready to go.”

  “Any idea how many?”

  “Last I heard from Doyon Williams, right at a hundred.”

  “What kind of armor?

  “I think they got three tanks, a couple small cannons and a helicopter. They just guard the RustyCan Highway, Grisha, and provide a place to stay for traveling Russian big shots.”

  Colonel Wing Grigorievich cleared her throat and put her hand on her husband’s arm. “General Eluska, have we any information on Russian movements south of Delta?”

  “All we know is what Grisha’s flight spotted on the way to Chena. The FPN Army is headed north, and there was a column of tanks and other vehicles ahead of them. I think it’s safe to say they’re Russian.”

  “That was two days ago. I thought the Russians had asked for terms,” Grisha snapped, frowning at his broken leg.

  “St. Petersburg did ask for terms.” Wing cleared her throat again and continued, “But their army has yet to wave any white flags or show signs of stopping. They’re probably trying to gain as much territory as they can.”

  A knock sounded on the closed door.

  “General Grigorievich?” Sergeant Major Nelson Tobias’ voice came through the door at a respectful level in cadence with the rap of his knuckles.

  “Please come in, Sergeant Major,” Grisha said.

  Tobias pushed open the hospital door and stepped inside, barely, before straightening to attention. “We have priority messages from the USA and the ROC commands.”