“On our way here,” Captain Lauesen said, “Republic of California Air Defense told us to expect heavy friendly traffic from their direction. They didn’t elaborate.”
The door crashed open.
“What the hell is going on?” Malagni swept into the room, radiating energy. He glanced at Captain Lauesen, pinned Wing with his eyes. “Report, Colonel.”
“This is Captain Lauesen of the U.S. Army.”
“Colonel,” Lauesen said with a nod.
“He and the rest of us were assessing the situation, Colonel,” Wing said. “It seems all of North America is suddenly at war with itself.”
“What’s our situation?” he asked with a nod to the captain.
“The Russians are fielding enough men that we’re outnumbered eight to one,” Wing said. “To be truthful, I don’t know if we can hold them.”
“Of course we can hold them!” Malagni’s teeth bared under glinting eyes and Wing wondered if he smiled or snarled. He pressed on.
“Tanana Command is being beefed up by antiaircraft batteries from the U.S. and their new radar units show a large flight coming in from the R.O.C. All we gotta do is slow the damned Russians. Not that I would mind slaughtering every mother’s son of ’em!”
“Any word on Grisha?” Wing asked.
“No.” Malagni moved over to the map table and grabbed a pointer. The moose-hide shirt that covered his chest had only one sleeve. The right side flowed seamlessly over his stump. “Show me where they’re at.”
Captain Lauesen smoothly redelivered the report he had just given Wing. She edged back and watched as markers changed position on the table, strategies discussed and dismissed.
“Your people are fighting a two-front war?” Malagni asked.
“Three,” Lauesen said with a grin. “We’ve launched an amphibious assault on the big naval yards at Norfolk and Little Creek, Virginia. Our marines are ashore and moving inland, as well as up into Chesapeake Bay.”
“With that much going on I’m surprised the 77th came up to help us out.”
“President Cuomo never backs away from his promises.”
A U.S. Army sergeant moved briskly into the room and handed a sheet of paper to Captain Lauesen, who quickly read it.
“Well?” Malagni gestured at the paper.
“The Spanish are swarming across the Rio Grande into the Texas Republic from a number of positions. Everything south of San Antonio is under the Spanish flag right now.” He took a deep breath.
“The Canadians are sending two armored columns against the Republic of California, with perhaps a third cutting through the First People’s Nation.”
“They’ve actually cut through the F.P.N. twice,” Malagni whispered; Wing was sure he grinned. “The British are even dumber than I thought,” he boomed. “They’ve really stirred up a hornet’s nest now. Didn’t they ever hear about Custer?”
He stared at the map table. “This is what we’re going to do.”
69
“Ambassador Adams, Colonel Grigorievich, gentlemen, please be seated,” Republic of California Secretary of State Frank Barnes swept his arm out toward chairs in front of his desk. The secretary sank into his own leather upholstery.
“Please accept the president’s apologies for not keeping you in the picture over the past few days. The situation in Alaska has polarized our congress and nation. After forty hours of debate the Senate and House both gave President Reagan authorization to declare war on Imperial Russia.”
“So we are now allies?” Claude asked.
“Very much so,” Secretary Barnes said. He grinned. “I think the president gave the people one of his best speeches ever. ‘There’s an eagle in the woods, it has two heads and both wear a crown. It likes to eat baby republics.’ He received a standing ovation on that one.”
Grisha laughed. “Good imagery. Does this mean I can get back to my command soon?”
Secretary Barnes glanced at his watch. “Your flight leaves in a little over an hour. You’ll be flying with a squadron of troop transports carrying the Third Parachute Infantry Regiment and a Special Forces contingent to Fort Yukon. Ambassador Adams and you other gentlemen will be flown out tomorrow, assuming we all agree on our current treaty.”
“We certainly want to finish our mission before going home,” Claude said.
Grisha stood up. “Where do I go to catch this flight, sir?”
Secretary Barnes pushed a button on his desk then rose to his feet and shook Grisha’s hand. “Lieutenant Anderlik will take to your transport. I wish you Godspeed and victory, Colonel.”
“Thank you, Mr. Secretary.” He nodded to the Dena delegation and followed the lieutenant out of the room.
“Right this way, sir,” the lieutenant said. They entered an elevator and dropped farther than Grisha remembered ascending. The door opened into a large bay filled with ranked equipment and military personnel moving in all directions.
“Please follow me, sir.” Lieutenant Anderlik moved briskly through the confusion and Grisha had to pay attention to his guide rather than gawk at the activity around him. After traversing a second bay they emerged into the hot California afternoon.
A topless military vehicle with an enlisted driver sat idling while two officers leaned against it, smoking and chatting. When Grisha appeared both men stiffened to attention and saluted. The major remained silent while the colonel spoke.
“Good afternoon, Colonel Grigorievich. I’m Colonel Buhrman, commander of the Third PIR. You’ll be riding with us. This is my exec, Major Coffey.”
“I’m pleased to meet both of you, and grateful for the ride, not to mention deeply appreciative of your aid.”
“Aw hell, we’ve always wanted to see Alaska,” Colonel Buhrman said.
“We hear the fishing is fantastic,” Major Coffey added.
“Once we kick the Czar out, I’ll be happy to take you fishing,” Grisha said. “I know a lot of good spots.”
They rode three blocks to an airfield where a row of transports were filling up with men. Grisha noticed that every trooper carried far more than did his soldiers back home. To a man they looked formidable and menacing.
“How many are going north?” he asked.
“Nine hundred and sixty on this flight and we have the Fourth PIR in ready reserve if we need them.”
“The last I heard there were over twenty-four hundred Russians heading toward our lines from two different directions.”
“They aren’t there yet, Colonel,” Major Coffey said. “We also have—”
Three waves of five fighters buzzed over the field in tight formation. The paratroopers lined up outside their transports cheered and waved.
“—them,” Coffey finished. “Those are P-61 Eureka long range fighters of the 117th Attack Squadron who will provide cover for us and then seek out targets of opportunity once in the combat zone.”
Grisha couldn’t stop grinning. “This is great!”
They pulled to up the lead transport.
Colonel Buhrman looked over at Grisha. “Going—”
A scout car roared up and screeched to a stop. Colonel Benny Jackson stepped to the tarmac. He nodded at the other two R.O.C. officers. “Del, Joe, glad to see good people are going north with me.”
