23
Tanana Aerodrome, Dená Republik
Grisha didn’t look down as he moved on crutches toward the aircraft. For an instant, his mind flashed back to the last plane on which he had left this place—they all looked alike to him. He increased his speed as he pressed forward.
“Grisha, please slow down,” Wing said in a low voice, “or I’ll trip you and have you carried in a litter.”
He immediately slowed. He harbored no doubt his wife and adjutant would do exactly as she said. A warm effusion of affection swelled through him and he knew he was a lucky man.
“Yes, Colonel,” he muttered over his shoulder.
“General Grigorievich, welcome to our flight.”
Grisha stopped and stared at the attractive young woman standing at the bottom of the ramp.
“Anita! How is your arm?”
“Thanks to you, it is just fine. It is so good to see you under happier circumstances, sir.”
“This is my wife, Colonel Wing Grigorievich. Wing, this is Anita; she and I have traveled together before.”
Wing smiled and took her hand. “Yes, I heard all about it. So pleased to meet you.”
“And you, Colonel! Now if you will both step this way.”
“Is this the same plane?” Grisha asked, looking around.
“Indeed it is, General.”
Grisha moved up the steps at a slow, but steady, pace. He could sense Wing behind him, ready to catch him if he fell. The leg was nearly healed, but he didn’t want to jeopardize it with undo stress before it fully knitted.
“I’m not an invalid!” he barked over his shoulder.
“That’s fine, Grisha,” Wing said, “because I’m not a nurse.”
He laughed despite himself. She was absolutely the best thing that had ever happened to him. Life without her was unimaginable, and at this point, would be unbearable.
He abruptly stopped on the second-to-last step. Wing immediately grabbed his right elbow. Grisha turned and kissed her astonished mouth. Then he moved into the aircraft.
“That was very unmilitary,” she said as harshly as she could.
“And very satisfying.” He grinned to himself and took a seat, the same one, he reflected, from which he had attended to Anita.
Wing slid past and dropped into the seat next to him. “Where are they taking us?”
“I give you points,” he said. “You’ve waited over fifty hours to ask that question.”
“You mean it wasn’t a military secret?”
“Not from you.”
She punched him in the arm with painful force. “You moose turd! I’ve been going crazy wondering what I should pack for us and you’ve known all along where we were going and could have told me!”
“I’m sorry,” he said instantly. But I needed to know which came first: the adjutant or the wife. I treasure you on both counts, you know that.”
“So where the hell are we going, General?”
“To a former British Air Corps base in Puget Sound. There we will transfer to a Californian submarine which will deliver us to Angoon, Russian Amerika.”
“Aren’t the Californians and the US navies fighting the Japanese in those waters?”
“I need to tell my adjutant the answer to that?”
“At this moment, I’m a wife. So how much Japanese activity has there been in the area?”
“They’ve moved their focus south, a long way south. The RCN fleet is moving against them.”
“Good.” Wing glanced around. “Do you think the Tlingit Nation will ally themselves with us?”
“Militarily, without a doubt. Politically, I honestly don’t know. The Tlingits are an incredibly stratified society. The kwan leaders have been in power for a millennium.”
“Sounds promising,” Wing said in a flat tone. “So why are we wasting our time?”
“We may not be wasting anything. If we can get the leaders to actually join us as a true republic, they will have to change their rules. And it would be in a manner where they would not lose prestige. So in a way, it would be a double victory for them.”
“But they wouldn’t run things any more, Grisha.”
“At this moment they are facing the fact that the Japanese could easily be their new rulers. I think they’re ready for a little help into the twentieth century.”
“Are they really that devious?”
“The word you’re looking for is complex.”
“All strapped in?” Anita asked.
Grisha smiled at her. “How about you strapping in as well?”
She laughed and sat across the aisle from them.
“Prepare for takeoff.”
They all glanced up at the speaker.
The four engines revved and the plane abruptly jerked forward, sped down the runway and soared into the sky.
“What’s our flying time, Anita?”
“Depending on head winds, about six and a half hours, General.”
“Please, call me Grisha.”
“Thank you, Grisha. I am honored. Would you both like something to eat?”
“The last time you asked me that—”
“I ended up wearing your lunch,” Anita said and laughed. She sobered quickly. “I thought we were all going to die that day. You not only helped me physically, you helped me hang on mentally.”
“Not everyone gets sucker-punched by an aircraft.”
Anita laughed again. “That’s for damned sure!”
“Can I help you prepare the food?” Wing asked.
“Oh, no, but thank you, Colonel. I don’t do much on these VIP flights anyway.”
“Please, Anita, I would like you to call me Wing. Vee-eye-pee?”
“Very important persons. Like it or not, that’s how the crew regards you, including me.”
“We’re just soldiers,” Grisha said. “You’re just as important as we are.”
“Whatever you say. Now, what would you like to eat?”