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32

Delta, Russian Amerika

Moans of pain, the unusual sound of a man openly crying, and constant movement swirled around the operating table in the middle of the ancient cabin.

“Put your hand right there and push down,” Bodecia ordered.

The sweaty, blood-soaked, young Russian corpsman pushed down on the mangled thigh of the wounded soldier. The steady spurt of blood reduced to a dribble and Bodecia poured fresh, hot water over the wound and cleaned it as best she could. She packed the wound with sphagnum and wrapped it tightly with a bandage ripped from a sheet.

“Tape that down,” she said, moving to the next, and last, casualty.

***

Whistles out in the forest just before midnight told Bodecia what to expect. With practiced ease she had slipped from her cell and made her way to the mercenary hospital tent. The guard thought all threat would come from the forest.

When she moved up behind him with the rock held in both hands, he didn’t even look around when she bumped the tent.

“That you, Felix?”

She fervently hoped the blow didn’t kill him, but she knew it would keep him out of the coming battle. A small battery lantern glowed inside the large tent and she immediately moved to Pelagian’s side.

“Wake up, my husband, we are leaving this place.” She pinched his nostrils together and in a moment his eyes popped open.

“Wha—”

Her hand pressed over his mouth and she repeated her words.

“I’m so hungry,” he whispered.

She produced a strand of squaw candy and while he chewed, she moved over to Rudi.

“Sergeant, wake up.”

“I woke when you entered the tent,” he said in a soft voice. “Is it all going to start now?”

“Yes,” she said and smiled. “Did you hear the birds calling?”

“Other than owls and loons, birds don’t call at night. I thought it might be a message for you.”

“A message for us. Come on, get up, we need to get out of this camp.”

“What about the guards?”

“They’re not going to see us. Please help me with Pelagian.”

Rudi moved slowly but didn’t seem to be in pain. Pelagian was close to his old self.

“I’m fine, Bodecia, you don’t have to hold me up.”

“Good. Now humor me and hang onto my arm.”

The trio moved to the door of the hospital. Bodecia motioned for both men to stop. She pulled a small battery light out of her pocket and flashed it three times towards the dark forest.

A single light flashed once and then something in the mercenary motor pool exploded.

“That’s our cue, gentlemen. Head for the trees where you saw that light.”

In less than a minute they traversed the gulf from prisoner to citizen without so much as a shout being raised against them. But pandemonium reigned on the far side of the camp. Weapons of every caliber seemed to be firing as fast as possible.

“So good to see you folks!” Doyon Frank Isaac yelled as they met under the foliage. “Does anyone need help, support, wheelchair?”

“Just get us to the rear, please,” Bodecia said. “I know it’s going to get wicked lively over here very soon.”

“I have just the guide for you,” Frank said with a wide grin.

Magda appeared out of the gloom and hugged her mother and father at the same time.

“Oh, I was so worried about you!” both women said in unison.

“Where’s the lieutenant?” Pelagian asked.

“Over with the people creating the diversion. You’ll see him later.”

Heightened gunfire tore the air along with more explosions.

“Let’s go,” Magda said. “We have a support camp and field hospital set up for the wounded.”

***

Bodecia laid her hand on the last casualty, a young Russian private whose head was all but hidden by his field dressing. She couldn’t find a pulse.

“Private, are you still with me?”

No answer. She pulled off the bandage and realized he had probably died soon after being hit. They lost more troops than anticipated, but they had pulled the Freekorps’ teeth.

Over the past four hours Bodecia had taped, sewn and patched up three-dozen fighters. Four of them were women and over two thirds of the wounded were Russian. She felt confused by Frank’s alliance with Romanov. They were Dená; weren’t the Russians the real enemy?

She stepped out into the cool dawn, leaned against the wall of the building and sank to a sitting position. Given more than a minute of silence, she would have fallen asleep.

“Jesus, man, I sure wasn’t ready for them guys to shoot hell out of the forest.”

“Yeah, Arkady and Vitus were right next to me and the bullets just tore ’em apart.”

Sixteen dead didn’t sound like a lot, she thought. Except when you knew every one of them. And we’re not even fighting Russians.

“Mother, are you okay?”

She looked up at her beautiful daughter.

“I’m fine, Magda, just very tired.”

“I thought that might be the case. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

She let Magda help her to her feet and through the brightening day they walked down a familiar street. Her mother and grandmother had walked through this very same dust, yet this morning it all looked different.

“How is Lieutenant Yamato?”

“He’s fine. He’s sleeping. William said he fought like a demon last night.”

“You like that young man, don’t you?”

“He is a man, not a boy, Mother. Yes, I hold him in very high regard.”

“I already know what he thinks of you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I watched his eyes when he looked at you.” Bodecia smiled at her daughter. “All I’m going to say is this: you don’t really know him yet. But in the greater sum of things that might not matter.”

“So far I like everything about him. But I told him I couldn’t think about him and me until you and father were rescued.”

“He agreed to that?”

“Instantly. He’s not stupid or full of himself like, like other people I’ve known.”

Bodecia’s smile didn’t get beyond her eyes as she mentally supplied names for both categories.

“I know he’s not like us; he has Asian and Californian ancestry…”

“Magda, race is not a consideration here. Your father is part Irish, African, and Danish. I am Athabascan and New England Yankee.”

“As I said, he’s not like us.”

“Does this fact bother him?”

“I don’t think so, Mother.”

“Then drop the subject. It’s not worth your time or consideration.”

“You don’t have any problem with his ethnicity?”

“Was there some portion of ‘drop the subject’ that you didn’t understand?”

“No, ma’am.”

Bodecia stopped and considered. Magda hadn’t used “ma’am” since she was nine years old. She held out her hand and stopped her daughter.

“Magda, look at me. I’m on your side. I know you well enough that if you decide to do something, you have thought it out in all its complexity.

“I trust you and I love you. You do what you think is right. But I reserve the right to geld any man who hurts you in any way. Agreed?”

Magda’s beautiful grin broke across her face and she hugged Bodecia tightly.

“Agreed, Mother. Agreed.”

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Framed