10
Akku, Russian Amerika
“The Tlingit Nation Army is in a very tight place. I’m not sure we can get out with everything we want,” Captain Paul Chernikoff said, pacing back and forth in the small room. Rain tapped on the windows and wind sighed through the towering spruce and hemlock outside the building.
“Define your terms, please,” General Sobolof responded in a quiet tone.
“The Japanese have attacked Russian Amerika, but not the Russian mainland, unprovoked and without warning at the very moment the Russian Pacific Fleet was destroyed by the California Navy. We made a grave error when we signed the military aid pact with Japan—we left the option of taking action up to them. We asked for a paper tiger and got one with steel claws instead.”
“Did you not support the pact, Captain?” General Sobolof asked.
“Yes, sir, in the strongest terms possible. I think the Japanese naval attaché perhaps duped me, and I should have anticipated that possibility. I didn’t.”
“No need to fall on your sword, Captain. We all agreed to the pact.”
“It’s just that I remember being very outspoken and possibly rude, General Sobolof.”
The general grinned. “I was once your age, Captain, and had just as big a mouth. What’s past is past; we cannot change that.”
“No, sir, we cannot. My brother has secured the cooperation of the Dená people as well as that of the ROC and the USA. The US fleet is sortieing out of the Kingdom of Hawai’i, preparing to engage the Japanese fleet if all other options fail.”
“What other options are there?”
“Frankly, General, none.”
“What are the Californians doing?”
“One of their submarines sank a Russian warship in Alaskan waters; other than that they are watching and waiting. In the meantime we are completely cut off from the Pacific by the Imperial Japanese Navy.”
“Are the USA and the ROC declaring war on the Empire of Japan?”
“That depends on whether or not the Japanese pull back.”
“So what happens if the USA and the ROC save our asses from the Japs? Are they an instant enemy also?” General Sobolof poured himself a glass of water and then drank it. He slammed the glass down on the table between them.
“Are we reduced to choosing who our new master will be?”
“The Dená Nation is sending a delegation to us, to explore the possibility of an Alaskan Republik.” Captain Paul Chernikoff said it as if it were an afterthought.
“Who suggested this republik?”
“My brother did, General. It just came to him, the possibility, that is, and he ran with it.”
“I think you and your brother have just redeemed yourselves, Captain.”
“Do you mind if I sit?” His relief was evident.
“Of course not.”
Chernikoff dropped onto the chair and sighed. “The most positive thing about this delegation is they’re sending our cousin, General Grigorievich, as head of the delegation.”
“Grisha?”
“You seem surprised, General Sobolof. Why?”
“Wasn’t he cashiered from the Russian Army?”
“Yes. He also led the Southern Dená and when the truce was called, the Dená made him commanding general of their army.”
“How can that be? He’s not even an Athabascan.”
“Personally, I think they thought he would fail, and he didn’t. Our northern brothers are doing something I think we should copy, immediately.”
“What?” General Sobolof asked in a guarded tone.
“Reward ability with increased responsibility. Grisha went from a rescued slave to a general in less than a year.”
“And we don’t?”
“With all due respect, General Sobolof, we never see the individual, we only see the kwan.”
The older man blinked and looked toward the rain-soaked window. “Perhaps there is something to what you say. I will bring it up to the others. Let me do the talking; you do not have the rank to push a thing like this.”
“Believe me, General Sobolof, I am very aware of that.”