Russian Amerika: Chapter Thirty Nine

39 - Chena Redoubt

    "Getting anything?" Jackson asked with a tinge of anxiety in his voice.

    "Shit, man, would you just give me some space?" Jimmy Scanlon snapped, rolling his eyes.

    Grisha's eyes felt grainy, but he wanted to see if this little machine could capture words from 2,000 miles away. Haimish and Jackson both wore smiles when Grisha and Jimmy returned. Nathan and Chan somberly whispered in a corner.

    Jimmy turned a knob. Static gushed out of the speaker on the backpack. He twisted more knobs. The static lowered and then stopped. A low humming interrupted randomly by small beeps issued from the speakers. "That's their carrier wave," Jimmy said.

    "All right!" Jackson crowed, and slapped Jimmy on the back. Alf Rosario picked up a microphone and spoke into it.

    "This is Northern Lake, this is Northern Lake. We have a taped feed and a live feed for you. Do you copy? Over."

    What an odd way to talk, Grisha thought.

    "We copy, Northern Lake, transmit your feed."

    Grisha felt his eyes bug out. It worked, it really worked.

    "This is truly magic," Nathan said, staring down at the machine. "Are these your friends in California?"

    "Yes," Jackson said with a grin. "Squirt the tape, Alf. They can check it out later. We probably don't have much time."

    "Why not?" Grisha asked.

    "The Russians will probably monitor the transmission and either jam us or try to take out the transmitter." Jackson pointed at the machine. "This is a transmitter."

    Nik wandered in, rubbing his eyes. "What's going on?"

    "Does the Russian military have monitoring devices that can detect radio signals?" Haimish asked.

    "They have trouble picking up their own radio transmissions." Nik yawned and saw the small transmitter. "What's that?"

    Nathan told him while Alf made the machine whine at high speed. It stopped with a click.

    "Okay, Jackson, take the mike." Alf handed him the instrument.

    "This is Northern Lake with a five star performance," Jackson said. "Do you copy? Over."

    "Wait one," a voice from the machine said. Clicks and short bursts of static quickly changed to a low hum. "Proceed," the voice ordered.

    "The Dena' Separatist Movement not only exists, but is receiving military aid from the United States of America. The DSM has captured a Russian armored column and used the materiel to capture a walled fort, Chena Redoubt, near the juncture of the Tanana and Chena Rivers. Most of the Russian Amerikan fighter wing has been neutralized. Other redoubts have also been taken or are under attack as we speak. The elected government of the Dena' Nation seeks diplomatic recognition as soon as possible." Jackson stopped and smiled around at everyone in the room.

    "Can you get an ambassador out to address congress?" the voice asked.

    "Not by road," Jackson said. "We're surrounded by hostiles."

    "Wait one." Grisha couldn't decide if the voice was male or female.

    "Would you inquire about patching me through to my people?" Haimish asked.

    "We have a representative of the United States here. Would it be possible to patch him through to the nearest U.S. Army unit?"

    "Negative. But we can get someone from his delegation over here in about a half hour."

    "That would be fine," Haimish said with evident relief.

    "Please proceed on that, Five-Star."

    "Acknowledged. Your transportation scenario is being dealt with, stay on-line, we'll be back as soon as possible."

    Grisha glanced around the crowded room. People smiled at one another and hope became a palpable entity.

    This might actually work.