to his home, too much time would have passed. What they’d seen on the
island was important–so important that a few minutes might make a
difference.
White Wolf tugged on the line once, making sure it was still solid and
secure, then settled into a brisk walk toward the structure fifty feet
away. At one time, it might have been a simple Quonset hut, but years and
the necessity of surviving in the frigid climate had worked modification on
it. Now, packed over with ice and snow, the best insulator available, it
looked more like an igloo than a conventional structure. The two smaller
buildings, housing a generator and some spare parts, were similarly
encrusted with snow and ice.
He walked up to the front door, tugged it open, and pulled it shut
behind him immediately. Morning Eagle walked off in the direction of the
small outbuilding that housed their generator. A few moments later, White
Eagle heard the steady rumble of the generator kick in. He flipped a light
switch, and the overheads came on. He waited a few minutes, to make sure
the power was stable.
Finally, when it appeared that there were going to be none of the
unexpected current fluctuations that wreaked havoc on electronic circuitry,
he walked over to the far side of the small hut and flipped on a master
power switch. Two gray metal cases crackled to life. He patted one of
them thoughtfully and smiled. Army equipment, built to last and survive in
even these spaces. He ran his finger lightly over the metal equipment
property tag riveted to one side. It had been years since he’d last fired
this equipment up, too many years.
Or maybe not enough, depending on how you looked at it. He wasn’t
even sure if the old frequencies, call signs–and circuit designations that
he’d memorized so long ago would still work.
As he waited for the circuits to warm up, he heard the front door
open, then slam shut, and felt the brief blast of frigid air circulate in
the small space. Morning Eagle walked over to the gear and stood beside
him.
“I didn’t think we’d need this again,” Morning Eagle said finally.
“But under the circumstances-”
“There are not many choices,” White Eagle said mildly. “We both know
they would want to know. Whether or not they’ve had the foresight to
continue to monitor this net is up to them. We can only do our part.” He
stared at the row of green idiot lights, all brightly assuring him that the
gear was still operational. “We won’t know until we try.”
Morning Eagle nodded. “That’s all we can ever do.”
1705 Local
cvic, USS Jefferson
“Sir!” The enlisted technician looked up. “I think you might want to
come back here.”
“Can it wait?” Commander Busby asked. He glanced over at the aircrew
he was debriefing and shrugged apologetically. He already knew that it
couldn’t from the tone in the technician’s voice.
“No, sir,” the enlisted man said grimly. “I think this has probably
waited too long,” he added cryptically.
“Which circuit?” Commander Busby asked.
“I think you’d better see for yourself, sir. I’m not sure I believe
it myself.”
Lab Rat made his excuses, and moved quickly back toward the top-secret
EW surveillance vault. The technician waited at the heavy steel door,
holding it open for him.
Lab Rat stepped inside the space, noting the small cluster of EW
technicians located near one particular piece of gear. He snapped his head
back to stare at the senior enlisted man who’d called to him. “You must be
joking.”
The technician shook his head. “Wish I were, sir. But it’s for real.
They’re broadcasting in the clear. They tried coming up on the last code
they had, but it was so old we can’t even break it. Then they just went
into the clear, without even asking permission.”
“Damned civilians,” Lab Rat muttered. He walked over to the circuit
and picked up the microphone. “What have they told you so far?” he asked
before depressing the transmit key.
The intelligence specialist looked up. “They’ve given us two code
names, which I’m having verified by Third Fleet. I think they may have to
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