The lead column sat in the middle of the road. Engines idled as men relieved themselves and slapped at mosquitoes. Bear heard the motorcycle before he saw it.
Filth caked the rider and the lenses of the smeared goggles looked unnaturally clean on his dusty face. The motorcycle came to a stop next to the command car. “General Myslosovich, we are two kilometers from the front.”
“Excellent.” He smacked the back of the driver’s seat with his jeweled baton. Bear had already heard the story how the Czar had presented it to the general for pacifying the Yakuts fifteen years before. “Vladimir, spread the word, I want an officers’ meeting in ten minutes.”
Bear absently rubbed his scar and noted the insignia on each officer as they arrived. Captain of Artillery. Major of Infantry. Lieutenant Colonel of Armor. An Okhana captain.
Bad sign. The Cossacks had a way of fucking everything up. Back in his grandfather’s day Cossacks had a reputation for being noble, honorable warriors. That was before they sold their souls to the Czar and joined his secret police.
The other officers edged away from the Okhana captain. General Myslosovich cleared his throat and all eyes fastened on his fat, red face.
Bear smiled. Put tusks under that moustache and the first Eskimo he came across would have him for dinner.
“Radio the main column to make all speed and catch up with us. We may need them to consolidate our holdings. I want an immediate artillery barrage on the barricade and everything within five hundred meters of it. Then I want armor to advance all the way to Chena Redoubt.”
When Myslosovich spoke his jowls quivered, enhancing the walrus illusion. Bear looked away so they couldn’t see his grin.
“Infantry will follow armor. Mop up anything the tanks leave behind. Short and sweet. Any questions?”
“General, I understand they have antitank weapons.” The tanker lieutenant. colonel let his voice drift away as Myslosovich glared at him.
“That’s what your cannon are for, Colonel. Besides, the Siberian Tigers are up there clearing out that sort of thing right now.”
Bear felt impressed despite himself. The Siberian Tigers were the best commandos the Czar had. They all had to serve four years in the regular army before they could volunteer for the elite force. Their training proved so grueling that, of every one hundred recruits who began the program, three finished.
Bear almost felt sorry for the Indians.
I hope they leave Grigorievich for me. Of all the people to make colonel! The Indians must be in dire straits.
The officers hurried off, shouting orders. General Myslosovich sat back with a grunt.
“I want to fight,” Bear said. Grigorievich’s visage hung in his mind like a cloud of mosquitoes. “There are Indians out there I have sworn to kill.”
“You swear a great deal, woodsman. Why didn’t you kill them when you had the chance?”
“I did kill one of them, a traitor to the Czar.” Bear let his voice carry insult. “He was a Russian Army officer.”
“Do you know his name?” Myslosovich seemed guarded.
“Captain Nikolai Rezanov, an Okhana Cossack.”
“General Alexandr Rezanov’s son? You killed him?”
“Yes. He joined the Dená. Because of him I will wear this for the rest of my life.” Bear pointed to his scarred face. “The man who did this is still alive, and I must change that.”
“You may join the infantry elements going in behind the tanks.” The walrus eyes squinted to slits. “If you try to desert I’ll have you shot.”
“If I chose to desert and couldn’t evade this band of street urchins, I deserve to be shot.” Bear stepped out and slammed the door behind him. He retrieved his gear from the boot and went looking for the infantry.