Russian Amerika: Chapter Thirty Seven

37 - Chena Redoubt

    Grisha huddled in the corner, nearly asleep, listening to the ever-lengthening interview.

    "So this is a civil war?" Jackson asked Chan.

    "No. We have never been part of Russian society, we have always been a subjugated people." The old man's eyes twinkled. "This is a revolution, we are finally striking back at a power which has oppressed us for centuries."

    "Can you rig me a patch, Jimmy?" Jackson asked his technician.

    "Ain't no way we're gonna get a radio signal out of here," Scanlon said.

    "Only one way to find out, Jimmy, baby. And that's to try it."

    "What is it that you wish to do?" Chan asked.

    "Hook into our network down in California."

    "Network," Hamish said. "You can communicate with California from here?"

    "Let ya know in a few minutes," Jimmy said.

    "Can you patch us through to the U.S.?" Hamish asked.

    Jackson studied Hamish with an air of assessment.

    "It might not be impossible," he said slowly. "But what's in it for us?"

    "A place in history as a participant rather than a bystander."

    "I need someone to help me," Jimmy said.

    "The Russians have the technology to pick up any transmissions we make," Jackson said. "I sure as hell don't want to start any diplomatic hassles between them and the Republic of California just yet."

    "I'll help you, Jimmy," Grisha said, pulling himself to his feet. "Every time I drop off to sleep I start having dreams."

    "So you're just up here to make a few bucks and that's it?" Hamish said with barely concealed contempt. "Open up a new market and cash in?"

    "And what the fuck are you doing here, Yank?" Jackson spat. "Founding an orphanage?"

    "We need to put this on the roof, man," Jimmy said. "How do we get up there?"

    Grisha picked up his parka and shrugged into it. "This way, I think."

    "I'm a military advisor," Hamish said flatly.

    "From the U.S.?" Jackson asked quickly.

    "Does it matter?"

    "If I'm putting my ass on the line, it does."

    Grisha hesitated at the door, feeling the tension in the room.

    "I'm a colonel in the United States Army." Hamish’s voice carried urgency. "This situation has moved much faster than our intelligence people anticipated. If I don't get through to my superiors I'm afraid the Russians are going to flatten this place and smash the movement before it gets its wind."

    "Get the antenna set up, Jimmy," Jackson said through a grin, "while I talk turkey with the colonel."

    "C'mon, man," Jimmy said tiredly to Grisha. "I want to get some sleep tonight."

    The cold stabbed through his parka and Grisha realized he was wearier than he thought. He held parts together while Jimmy clumsily fastened bolts without taking off his heavy mittens. At this temperature warm skin would be instantly frozen by metal.

    "You guys are more than you're saying, aren't you?" Grisha said casually.

    "Isn't everybody?" Jimmy said with a snort. "Hand me that wrench."

    As he pondered the man's words, Grisha became aware of a pulsing in his ears.

    "Helicopter!"

    Jimmy lifted his head sharply and listened. "Yeah. About two klicks away, wouldn't you say?"

    "But just one." Grisha frowned up at the brittle stars. "Why would they have just one helicopter up this time of night?"

    "Reconnaissance," Jimmy muttered to himself. "That's the only reason I'd have a bird up in this deep freeze!"

    "You're right. Are we done here?"

    "Just about. Hold this cable up so I can hardwire this thing."

    The sound of the helicopter receded.

    "You got people out there?" Jimmy asked. "Patrols and all that?"

    "I think that's where Slayer-of-Men went when he found out about his brother."

    "I hope he's awake and on the job. Shit, this thing wants to fall over."

    They grappled with aluminum rods and tie-downs as the Aurora Borealis rippled above them.