Stoney Compton: Alaska Republik

After pointing this out to Magda, he hesitated and then said, “So what else do you see?”

“Nothing. But perhaps there are things we should look for and ponder their significance.”

“You have an extensive vocabulary for a girl who was raised in the middle of Russian Amerika.”

“We call it Alaska. Both of my parents are well read and like to discuss what they read. One can learn much just listening, let alone reading. We should look for things they dropped or dragged.”

“Equipment?”

“I was thinking more in the order of oil drops.”

“Oil drops. How can that tell us their direction?”

“If they were moving at speed, the drops will point in the direction they were going.”

“Okay, let’s look for oil drops.”

“Won’t take long,” she murmured, walking past him while searching the ground along the road. “They don’t take care of their equipment.”

“That could get them in a lot of trouble out here in the middle of—”

“There!” she said, somewhat more excited than he thought she would be.

They weren’t oil drops. Someone riding in the vehicle had emptied dark liquid, quite a lot of it. The largest splash mark lay southernmost, the constantly diminishing smaller marks pointed north.

“Damn,” Jerry muttered. “They’re going the same direction we are.”

“Yes, they are.”

He looked up at her. “Thank you for teaching me that.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s go, we’re almost to the Czar Nicholas Highway.”

He followed Magda and her dogs into the brush. For an hour he silently followed, trying to keep his mind on the situation and destination rather than where her presence led him.

“Let’s stop for a while,” Magda said. She sat on a large rock, which now seemed rare. “Would you like some squaw candy?”

“The kind your father gave me?”

While opening her pack she gave him a smirk. “And what other kind would there be?”

He barked an embarrassed laugh, feeling more vulnerable than he would ever admit. “I meant the smoked fish. Don’t be silly.”

Her face went solemn and she handed him a strand of salmon. “Why would you call me silly? That’s something one says to a child.”

“My God, Magda, you are most definitely not a child!”

Her face softened and he felt his body relax. This didn’t seem to be the place to explain how attractive he found her. But it did seem like the right time.

“I think you’re amazing, beautiful, and dangerous, in that order. I would happily accept any sort of sweet you offered me.”

She grinned. “That was pretty good. Let’s go now.”

He followed her as she moved lithely down the trail, watching the land ahead of her and her feet never stumbling or stepping in the wrong place. Yamato decided her toes had eyes. With a start he realized his complete trust in her.

“Where did you attend university?” she asked in a normal voice.

“University of California at Bakersfield. Majored in history.”

“California history?”

“North American history, I think it’s fascinating.”

“From what I’ve heard and read, it seems very jumbled up, all those nations at each other’s throats, alliances against alliances yet often on the same side in a larger war.”

“Where did you attend university?” he said with a laugh.

“Two years at Metropolitan College in St. Nicholas and I took my bachelor’s from Simon Frasier in British Canada with double majors in philosophy and biology.”

“Why are you living like this if you don’t have to?” he blurted.

“Because I want to, maybe?” She gave him a long, level look over her shoulder before continuing on down the trail. “I’ve been teaching Dená children at Delta. There is no higher calling than teacher.”

“How old are you?”

She chuckled softly without looking back. “One never asks a lady her age. Didn’t they teach you that in school?”

“No.” He laughed. “But my mother tried.”

“And how old are you?”

“Twenty-eight last August. I’ve been in the RCAF for almost four years.”

“How much longer are you obligated to serve?”

“Two more years and a few weeks, if I decide to get out.”

“Why would you stay in the military? Do you like being told what to do?”

“I like the feeling that I’m contributing to my country and getting to fly planes at the same time.” He felt nettled but tried not to show it. “I think we all owe our country something.”

“So why not teach?”

He laughed again. “Not even the military tells you what to do as completely as do public school administrators. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

“Good riposte. I give you points. I left my position in January.”

“Why?”

“Bloody administrators, that’s why. Let’s just say we didn’t agree on curriculum.”

Jerry remained silent for a few hundred yards. The more he learned of her, the more attraction he felt. He decided she had to be at least twenty-four.

“So, is there a boyfriend or fiancé waiting for you back in Delta?”

“Not really.”

He nearly asked what that meant before deciding he didn’t want to know. Not yet, anyway. The next four questions that popped into his head were instantly rejected.

Throughout their trek he watched everything they passed, trying to remember landmarks in the event he had to retrace the route alone.

Well, if I can just find the trail .

Magda suddenly stopped and hunkered down into a crouch. The dogs vanished into the trees. Jerry instantly moved off the trail and into the brush before stopping.

“What?” he said in a hiss.

She held her hand up for silence and then moved. And disappeared. Try as he might, he could not see where she went. He heard a voice.

“But we have an armored column advancing from St. Nicholas, Major. How can you insist we need your Freekorps, especially at such an exorbitant price?”

Educated Russian, Jerry decided. Freekorps?

“We’re all veterans of armed conflict, Captain. We know what we’re doing and how to do it as expediently as possible. You tell us what objective you want taken and we have it for you in three days or give you fifteen percent off.”

Jerry couldn’t place the accent—Europe, maybe. He had heard the term “Freekorps” before, in OCS; the major was a mercenary.

“What would be the price of taking Chena Redoubt?”

Major Mercenary’s laugh lacked humor. “We are a company, not a brigade. But we could do it in a month for five thousand British pounds.”

The Russian captain laughed with great amusement. “Hell, for that much I would conquer it!”

“No discretionary funds, I take it?”

“Nothing like that. Besides, the Californians have deployed troops and antiaircraft batteries throughout the area. Is suddenly whole new war.”

“Yes, I know. And you’re losing.”

“We have suffered setbacks, yes. But not losing, no.”

“As you wish. It really doesn’t matter to me.”

Jerry edged forward; he wanted to see these men.

“I find your attitude offensive, Major Riordan.”

“I don’t mean to be personally offensive; tactically offensive, yes. I like to think I am a realist.”

Through the screening branches of three willows, Jerry saw them. The Russian’s field garb gave off small puffs of dust as he walked. Major Riordan wore mottled camouflage and an incongruous red beret.

“As you wish. If you don’t mind, I must return to my command. There is great battle raging near Chena and my armored scout company has been ordered to the front.”

“Very heroic, I’m sure you and your men will acquit yourselves honorably.” Riordan lagged behind the captain and put a whistle to his lips. Abruptly he pulled his pistol from its holster, and blew twice on the whistle before shooting the captain three times in the back of the head.