might have worked, but at that point, Eel was unwilling to bet his life on
it. And glad he hadn’t been required to.
“You mind giving me a fly-to point for home?” the pilot said harshly.
“I think there are some folks on the ground who are going to be mighty
interested in talking to us.”
Eel returned to his console, automatically running the configuration
of speeds and distance vectors necessary to take them back to their home
base in Adak. That done, he punched in the communications circuit of their
home base and began trying to raise the operations officer. After a few
seconds, he broke off, and called up the USS Thomas Jefferson, asking them
to come up on the same circuit. He had a feeling that the carrier battle
group to the south would be at least as interested, if not more so, in what
he had to tell his boss.
1658 Local
East Side, Aflu
White Wolf crouched behind the ice and rock, hugging up close to it.
He felt the vibrations from the explosion radiate through his bearskin
parka, felt the intricate crystalline structure of ice and rock tremble
beneath his sensitive fingers. Some small part of him reached out to the
surrounding cliffs and rocks, searching for any sign of instability. Long
experience with avalanches and earthquakes had bred into the native Inuit
population an uncanny ability to sense the movement of the earth around
them.
White Wolf glanced at his grandson, Morning Eagle. While the younger
man had less time treading the frozen tundra of their homeland, four years
of service in the United States Army Special Forces had brought his earth
skills up to par with his grandfather’s.
Their eyes met, and agreement passed between them. No, there was no
immediate danger–at least not from this explosion. The earth around them
would stay secure and stable, but neither was certain that the same could
be said for the people crawling around Mother Earth’s surface. White Wolf
made a small motion with his hand, barely a movement. The other man
nodded. They moved out silently, wraiths against the barren arctic
landscape. Forty paces down the path, a bare trail that no one except an
Inuit could have spotted, White Wolf paused. Morning Eagle stopped five
paces behind him, far enough away that they would not both be immediately
caught up in any break in the thin crust of ice ahead. Then the younger
man heard it, too.
They moved to the edge of the path, climbed two small shelves, and
peered down at the campsite below them. The sharp glare of light was
almost painful to their eyes, accustomed as they were to the gentle days
and long nights of the arctic winter. Fire ringed a crater in the ice, the
center of which was burning a hellish red-gold in the midst of the
blackened, crusted circle.
White Wolf pointed at the men assembled below. Four of them–five
counting the dead body they’d seen further down the trail.
After watching the intruders for ten minutes, the Inuits slipped
silently away, back to the other side of their island and to their boat.
The noise of the outboard motors couldn’t be avoided, but they decided that
the safety distance from the island would bring was worth the risk. Even
so, White Wolf surmised, the white men arguing on the ice on the other side
of the small island would probably not even understand what had happened.
But the Inuits did–oh, yes, they certainly understood this latest skirmish
in the ongoing battle between two giant nations laying claim to the Inuit
territory.
And, given half a chance, the Inuits would have a say in their own
destiny. That they would.
CHAPTER 6
Wednesday, 28 December
0800 Local
Adak
Tombstone Magruder held the radio receiver away from his ear. The
voice screaming on the other end of the encrypted circuit was clearly
audible to everyone in the room. He watched his chief of staff frown, his
junior officers struggle to maintain their composure.
Finally, when the voice paused for breath, Tombstone put the receiver
back to his mouth. “Yes, Admiral,” he said mildly. “I understand your
position. But I’m not certain that there’s anything-” Tombstone stopped