lot of trees, and they’d barely grown back in the harsh winters. Just saplings in this pathway now, easily ground into splinters by tracked vehicles. Farther north, the work was being continued by army engineers, making a path to the new gold find, and beyond that to the oil discoveries on the Arctic Coast. When they got that far, the Chinese would find a good road, ready-made for a mechanized force to exploit. But it was a narrow one, and the Chinese would have to learn about flank security if they kept this path up.
Aleksandrov remembered a Roman adventure into Germany, a soldier named Quintilius Varus, commanding three legions, who’d ignored his flanks, and lost his army in the process to a German named Armenius. Might the Chinese make a similar mistake? No, everyone knew of the Teutonenberg Forest disaster. It was a textbook lesson in every military academy in the known world. Quintilius Varus had been a political commander, given that command because he’d been beloved of his emperor, Caesar Augustus, obviously not because of his operational skill. It was a lesson probably better remembered by soldiers than by politicians. And the Chinese army was commanded by soldiers, wasn’t it?
“That’s the fox,” Buikov said. This was the other officer in the Chinese unit, probably the subordinate of the gardener. Similar in size, but he had less interest in plants than he had in darting about. As they watched, he disappeared into the tree line to the east, and if he went by the form card, he’d be invisible for five to eight minutes.
“I could use a smoke,” Sergeant Buikov observed.
“That will have to wait, Sergeant.”
“Yes, Comrade Captain. May I have a sip of water, then?” he asked petulantly. It wasn’t water he wanted, of course.
“Yes, I’d like a shot of vodka, too, but I neglected to bring any with me, as, I am sure, you did as well.”
“Regrettably, yes, Comrade Captain. A good slug of vodka helps keep the chill away in these damp woods.”
“And it also dulls the senses, and we need our senses, Boris Yevgeniyevich, unless you enjoy eating rice. Assuming the Chinks take prisoners, which I rather doubt. They do not like us, Sergeant, and they are not a civilized people. Remember that.”
So, they don’t go to the ballet. Neither do I, Sergeant Buikov didn’t say aloud. His captain was a Muscovite, and spoke often of cultural matters. But like his captain, Buikov had no love for the Chinese, and even less now that he was looking at Chinese soldiers on the soil of his country. He only regretted not killing some, but killing was not his job. His job was watching them piss on his country, which somehow only made him angrier.
“Captain, will we ever get to shoot them?” the sergeant asked.
“In due course, yes, it will be our job to eliminate their reconnaissance elements, and yes, Boris, I look forward to that as well.” And, yes, I could use a smoke as well. And I’d love a glass of vodka right now. But he’d settle for some black bread and butter, which he did have in his track, three hundred meters to the north.
Six and a half minutes this time. The fox had at least looked into the woods to the east, probably listened for the sound of diesel engines, but heard nothing but the chirping of birds. Still, this Chink lieutenant was the more conscientious of the two, in Buikov’s opinion. They should kill him first, when the time came, the sergeant thought. Aleksandrov tapped the sergeant on the shoulder. “Our turn to leapfrog, Boris Yevgeniyevich.”
“By your command, Comrade Captain.” And both men moved out, crouching for the first hundred meters, and taking care not to make too much noise, until they heard the Chinese tracks start their engines. In five more minutes, they were back in their BRM and heading north, slowly picking their way through the trees, Aleksandrov buttered some bread and ate it, sipping water as he did so. When they’d traveled a thousand meters, their vehicle stopped, and the captain got on his big radio.
Who is Ingrid?” Tolkunov asked.
“Ingrid Bergman,” Major Tucker replied. “Actress, good-lookin’ babe in her day. All the Dark Stars are named for movie stars, Colonel. The troops did it.” There was a plastic strip on the monitor top to show which Dark Star was up and transmitting. Marilyn Monroe was back at Zhigansk for service, and Grace Kelly was the next one up, scheduled to