Contents ( 55)
- In Memoriam
- Epigraph
- Cast of Characters
- Americans
- Russians
- Canadian
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Weapons and Acronyms
- Weapons
- Acronyms
- About the Author
- Also by Dale Brown
- Copyright
- About the Publisher
At that moment, Takirak came gliding into view, moving across the snow on snowshoes with easy, practiced strides. Despite the fact that he had the PRC-162 manpack radio slung over one shoulder, and his own rucksack and M4 carbine on the other, he looked surprisingly fresh.
“Sorry I’m late, sir,” he told Flynn apologetically. “The wind carried me a ways farther than I hoped.”
“Glad you could finally join us, Sergeant,” Flynn replied with a slight smile to take away some of the sting of his words. Quickly, he outlined their current situation.
Takirak nodded stoically. “Well, it could be worse, I suppose,” he allowed.
Flynn saw Hynes roll his eyes dramatically and stifled a laugh. “I guess so, Andy.” He nodded to the radio the sergeant carried. “But if that thing’s still working, we need to report in.”
While the rest of the unit moved off to gather up any surviving supplies and work on the damaged sled, he and Takirak squatted down on the snow around the radio. Working efficiently, the sergeant unfolded the unit’s satellite communications antenna, angled it toward the horizon, and plugged in a battery pack.
As soon as he was done, Flynn flipped the power switches to on. They didn’t have any time to waste. The PRC-162’s batteries were rated to minus twenty-two degrees Fahrenheit, but prolonged exposure to extreme low temperatures would reduce their effectiveness. He picked up the handset. “Kodiak Six to Jaybird One. Kodiak Six to Jaybird One. Come in, Jaybird.”
A squeal of static was the only answer.
With a frown, Takirak adjusted the antenna position. Above the Arctic Circle, it was often difficult to link with communications satellites in geosynchronous orbit over the equator. The extremely low angle required meant signals had to cross more atmosphere, with all the resulting distortion and loss of power. Plus, these high latitudes also adversely affected the refraction of radio signals. The Russians had far fewer communications problems in the Arctic, thanks to their own constellation of satellites in special polar orbits.
“Kodiak Six to Jaybird One,” Flynn tried again.
This time, a static-laden voice replied. “Jaybird One copies, Kodiak Six.” They’d reached Alaskan Command, six hundred miles south at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson.
Swiftly and concisely, Flynn outlined their current status and location.
“Understood, Kodiak. Suggest you proceed to Site Alpha—” More high-pitched static squealed across their weak connection.
Flynn clicked his mike. “Affirmative on that, Jaybird.” Before it failed, satellites had picked up an F-22 Raptor’s emergency locator beacon about four miles southeast of their current position, somewhere near a range of steep hills that separated this particular valley from the next one over. It was labeled Site Alpha on their mission planning map.
“Recommend extreme caution,” Alaskan Command continued. “The Russians have already engaged in open hostilities to prevent CSAR operations in your area. Our runways here are still closed. We can’t provide any reinforcements or air support if you run into trouble.”
“Copy that, Jaybird One,” Flynn acknowledged. “Kodiak Six, out.”