The boat of a million years by Poul Anderson. Chapter 16, 17

“You knew what was right, and did it,” Pyotr said softly. “You are braver than I.”

She wondered if fear of the NKVD had kept him from deserting. She had seen the corpses the Green Hats left along the roads by the thousands, for a warning;

“What made you join the partisans?” he asked.

“The Germans occupied our village. They tried to recruit men from among us, and killed those who refused. My husband refused.”

“Katya, Katya!”

“Luckily, we were newly married and had no children.” I was rather newly arrived there, bearing a fresh name. That has grown difficult under the Communists. I have to search out slovenly officials. But they are common enough. Poor Ilya. He was so glad, so proud of his bride. We could have been happy together for as long as nature allowed.

“Luckily?” Pyotr knuckled fresh tears. “Regardless, you were very brave.”

“I am used to looking after myself.”

“As young as you are?” he marveled.

She couldn’t help smiling. “I’m older than I look.” Rising: “Time for another survey.”

“Why don’t we each take a window?” he suggested. “We could watch almost without a break. I feel much better. Thanks to you,” he ended adoringly.

“Well, we could—“ Thunder grumbled. “Hold! Artillery! Stay where you are.”

She sped to the north room. Early winter dusk was falling, the wreckage gone vague among shadows, but Mamaev still bulked clear against the sky. Fire flickered there. The crashing waxed, widely about. “Our half-truce is over,” she muttered when she came back to look east. “The big guns are busy.”

He stood at the middle of the floor, his features hard to see in the quickly thickening murk but his voice uncertain. “Did the enemy begin it?”

Katya nodded. “I think so. The start of whatever they have planned. Now we earn our pay, I hope.”

“Really?” The question trembled.

“If we can get some idea of what is going on. How I wish we had a moon tonight.” She chuckled dryly. “But I wouldn’t expect the Germans to pick their weather to oblige us. Keep quiet.”

She shuttled between windows. Dark deepened. Thin snow on untrafficked streets was slightly helpful to eyes and night glasses. The cannonade mounted.

Abruptly breath hissed between her teeth. She risked leaning out for a better view. Cold fell around her like a cloak.

“What is it?” Pyotr tried to whisper.

“Hush, I told you!” She strained to be sure. Black blots on the next street over from this, headed straight north… A hunter could interpret traces for a soldier. Those were perhaps a hundred men, afoot, therefore infantry, but they dragged several carte on which rested faintly sheening shapes that must be mortars …

They passed. She lowered her glasses and groped through the apartment till she found Pyotr. He had sat down, maybe in his weariness he had fallen asleep, but he sprang to his feet when she touched him.

Tautness keened within her. “Germans bound for Kratoy Gully,” she said into his ear. “Got to be, on that route. If they wanted to go fight near the hill, they’d1 be headed westerly and I might never have seen them.”

“What … do they intend?”

“I don’t know, but I can guess. It’s surely part of a general offensive against our sector. The cannon—and maybe armor, attacking from the side—those should hold our people’s attention. Meanwhile yonder detachment establishes itself in the ravine. It has the makings of a strongpoint. Our headquarters was in Tsaritsa Gorge, farther south, till the Germans took it, at heavy cost. If they take and hold the Kratoy, why, troops can scramble straight through it, or their engineers might throw a new bridge across.”

“Do you mean we could lose the whole city?”

“Oh, that alone won’t do it.” We have our orders, directly from Stalin. Here, at this place he renamed in his own honor, here we stand. We die if need be, but the enemy shall not pass one centimeter beyond us. “Every little thing counts, though. It would surely cost us hundreds of lives. This is what I came for. Now I go back and tell.”

She felt him shiver. “We go!”

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