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Ruiz pulling a fast one on us with the Chinese, there’s no reason to doubt that he was sending supplies to the Russians too.”
    Dean shook his head. “It just doesn’t make any sense. The Russians haven’t had any global trading presence since the Great War. They’ve kept to themselves. If they were getting that much ore from Brazil, we would have seen it.” Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on the finished glaze of his desk. “Do you remember Uncle Matt’s stories of his trip west from the southeast shore?”
    “When he sailed to Europe?”
    “Yeah.”
    Jason shrugged. “Not really. I was ten when he died in the Island Wars, and he wasn’t around much.”
    “He mentioned heading down to the African continent to see if there were any trading posts he could find along the coast.” The thought connected to something else Hawthorne had tried to tell him.
    “Did he?”
    “No,” Dean said, disappointed in the memory. “But that was almost twenty years ago. Things may have changed since then. It certainly changed for us. If the Russians opened up a trading line with the Africans, then that could be where they were getting so much of their supplies. “
    “Then where have the Africans been in this war? It’s just us, the Aussies, Chinese, Brazilians, and Russians. If they had an alliance with Rodion and Delun, you’d think they’d be inclined to offer soldiers or ships, neither of which we’ve seen.”
    “We’ll have another chat with the professor when we go ashore.” But even as the words left Dean’s mouth, he couldn’t help but feel troubled by the churning pit in his stomach. If the losses were as great as Monaghan had written in his message, then they couldn’t help the Australians until they’d reclaimed the ground they’d lost. Rodion still didn’t have a navy, and as long as Delun stayed near the islands, they had time to regroup.
    Dean and Jason both ascended to the deck, and Dean’s confidence was further solidified by the might of their fleet behind them. The farther north they sailed and the closer they moved to the coast, the faster Dean’s heart beat. He couldn’t explain his nervousness or the sense of foreboding that plagued his mind. It could be the unknown of just how vast Rodion’s army was or the fact that for the first time in half a century, there were weapons greater than what his soldiers possessed. At least for now.
    The southern-coast clans had no real port to speak of, so when Dean’s fleet arrived, they were forced to anchor offshore and take the tenders onto the sandy beaches and hike their provisions up the cliffs. It was slow going, a few of the horses and men nearly losing their footing on the way up.
    When Dean arrived at the camp, his heart sank at the sight of his people, huddled in tents and huts, taken from their homes and forced into exile. The melancholy was palpable, and more than once Dean caught the nasty snarl of rage cast his way. He was losing their trust. If the deterioration of their faith continued, Dean wouldn’t have just Rodion’s army to worry about.
    “This can’t be real.” Jason snuck up behind Dean, his face and clothes already covered in a light layer of sand, kicked up from the coastal winds.
    “Governors.” General Monaghan’s was the first friendly face they saw, and he walked over with haste, accompanied by a few of his officers, all of whom kept their hands on the hilts of their swords. Dean wondered if they were already having issues with keeping the peace. “It’s good to see you alive and whole.”
    Dean clasped the old general’s shoulder. “And you as well.” He turned back to Jason and the rest of the captains he’d brought. “I want you to bring up the provisions from the fleet. Food and medicines first, then ammunition.” The people need to remember that we’re here to help.
    Jason seemed to understand the tone and quickly echoed the orders to the others, while Dean followed the general to the tent. The