Russian Amerika

Pelagian laughed. “Do you know how long it took you to go a half mile?” He pointed back toward the destroyed tank. “Almost an hour.”

“Well, I didn’t want to hurt him any more than he already was.”

“You misunderstand, we have a better way.”

Magda reappeared from the windblown willows, leading four large dogs wearing harnesses. Under her arm were four long poles and some of the parachute shroud lines. She spoke and all four dogs stopped.

In minutes she had Rudi’s litter slung between the dogs, an animal at each corner. The sticks worked as spacers to keep the dogs in the same configuration. Jerry’s parachute harness was hooked to the front of the litter and a makeshift sling tied to the back.

“One person in front, one in back,” Pelagian said. “That way we all share the load and can go long distances.”

“I’ll bet I’m in back.”

“You can’t be in front, you don’t know the way.”

Jerry couldn’t argue with that. He looked around, wondered how far they had to travel and what they would meet along the way. He glanced at Magda and she smiled at him.

Something told him this adventure was just beginning. He smiled back.

91

Republic of California Ship Eureka, BB7 off Vancouver Island

“The Russians refuse to heave to, Captain,” the signalman second class said.

“Just what I thought they’d do. Mr. Gorin, put a shot across their bow.”

“Of which ship, Captain Llerena? There’s ten of them out there.”

“The one in front.”

Commander Gorin spoke into the microphone on his headset and one of the five-inch 38s immediately fired. The shell splash in front of the leading Russian destroyer was easily seen by all on the bridge of the Eureka.

Three Russian destroyers immediately opened up on the Eureka’s task force. One shell whistled past the Eureka’ s bridge and landed in the water.

“All ships,” Captain Llerena barked, “fire at will!”

The Eureka rocked to starboard as all twelve sixteen-inch guns on the four mounts fired simultaneously. The heavy cruisers Sacramento and Los Angeles and destroyers Hemme, Hepner, Bear, and Mitchell all fired their main batteries within seconds of the task force commander’s order.

Battleship Gorki and destroyer Severin of the Imperial fleet both disappeared in a stunning blast of explosives and flying metal as the salvos hit them with more shells than the rest of the Russian fleet combined, setting off their magazines. Gorki had flown the flag of Admiral Buldakov, commander of the Russian Pacific Fleet and chief tactician.

The surviving Russian ships, nearly in a straight line, steamed at flank speed toward the California fleet, which had formed a great C shape and was able to bring nearly every gun to bear on the hapless, enraged Russians.

The entire Battle of the North Pacific took less than an hour before the Russian destroyer Tolstoi, crippled and taking on water, lowered the remains of her flag.

“My God,” Commander Gorin said. “It was like ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’ in reverse!”

“And just as stupid,” Captain Llerena said in a tone of disgust. “I almost wanted to give them another chance after the fifth ship went down. Did we lose anyone?”

“The Hemme took three hits but is still moving under her own power, and the Mitchell is dead in the water. The Los Angeles is preparing a tow for her. Between the two ships we lost about ninety men, including the skipper of the Hemme.”

“Gary Cole was a good sailor and a fine skipper,” Captain Llerena said.

“Those ninety men gave their lives for a great victory. The Russians can’t even protect their own coast now.”

“Captain, do you think we just won the war?”

“Perhaps, Mr. Gorin, perhaps.”

92

Fort Chena, Dena Republik

Grisha carefully formed each letter as he wrote out his report. The War Council had asked he record everything about the Chena campaign while it was still fresh in his mind. He had been at it for the past two days.

Wing sat at a small desk near the door, working on troop allocations and placement. After only three days in hospital, Grisha already yearned to be in open air and talking to his troops.

“Colonel?” a soldier said from the doorway.

Wing and Grisha both said, “Yes?” They also laughed at the same time.

“Sorry,” Grisha said, “this ‘general’ stuff will take some getting used to.”

“What is it, Sergeant?” Wing asked.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but Captain Lauesen is here to see you, says it’s urgent.”

“Who?” Grisha asked with a frown.

“U.S. Army, good man, real smart,” Wing said. “Please show him in, Sergeant.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“He’s an intelligence officer, has more facts in his head than most schoolbooks,” Wing explained in a soft voice that made Grisha think about actions other than military. “We’re lucky to have him on our side.”

Captain Lauesen walked in accompanied by a second man. He stopped and came to attention, saluted.

“General Grigorievich, it is an honor to meet you, sir. Colonel, I am very happy to see you again, too. You both are truly awesome.”

“It was urgent that you tell us this?” Grisha asked, feeling uncomfortable.

“No, General.” He turned to the man with him. “It seems we have a new ally.”

The man looked familiar to Grisha. As tall as the captain, the man possessed broad shoulders, an athletic body, and dark, penetrating eyes. He wore military dungarees and a clean bandage on the left side of his forehead.

“You are Grigoriy Grigorievich, son of Anna from Akku, of the Killer Whale kwan, Raven phraety.”

Grisha stared at the man as his mind rushed back through the years to childhood. He grinned.

“You finally cut your hair, Pietr, or is it Paul? It’s been so many years.” Grisha extended his right arm. Pietr stepped forward and they grasped forearms.

“You have brought great honor to our kwan.”

“Thank you, my cousin. Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Wing.”

“My cousin has an excellent eye.” He glanced at her collar tabs. “And a woman of rank, in addition,” he said approvingly.

“Pleased to meet you, Pietr,” Wing said. “I’m Athabascan, so please forgive me if I don’t know what ‘kwan’ means.”

“Clan,” Pietr and Grisha said at the same time.

“Grisha and I used to play together at our grandfather’s house in the old village when we were boys. The last