Arctic Storm Rising by Dale Brown (android based ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Flynn and his men to parachute deep into the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Then, assuming they survived this hazardous nighttime drop, they were supposed to begin an immediate search-and-rescue operation—hunting for combat aircraft, two American F-22s, a big Russian Tu-142 recon plane, and two more Su-35 fighters, which had crashed somewhere among those jagged peaks and rocky valleys during an air intercept that had gone horribly wrong.

He shook his head angrily. There was no way in hell he would ask his soldiers and airmen to commit suicide chasing some staffweenie’s whim, not without pushing back as hard as he dared first. Without waiting to start second-guessing himself, Flynnstabbed the screen icon that would open a direct, secure video connection to Anchorage.

There was a moment’s delay while his signal was uplinked through a satellite and stabilized, and then a new window openedon-screen. A senior Army noncom looked back out of it at Flynn. “Yes, sir?” the NCO asked.

“This is Captain Flynn at Barter Island. I need to talk to—”

“Wait one, sir,” the other man interrupted. “I’m switching you to General Rosenthal, now.”

Flynn felt his eyebrows go up. Lieutenant General David Rosenthal was the top dog, the overall commander for every airman,soldier, sailor, and member of the Space Force based in Alaska. And despite that, he’d apparently just been sitting aroundanticipating this video call from a junior officer posted to the back end of nowhere? This deal looked worse and worse.

Rosenthal’s lean, squared-jawed visage flickered onto the screen. “Good afternoon, Captain. I assume you’ve got some questionsabout your orders?”

Flynn stiffened. “Not exactly questions, sir.”

The general smiled dryly. “More like a protest, then. As in, what kind of stupid SOB dreamed up this nightmare and dumpedit in your undeserving lap?”

Despite his anger, Flynn felt an answering ironic grin flit across his own face. “Not exactly in those words, sir. But I guess that’s basically the gist of it.” He leaned a little closer to the screen. “Look, General, between the crappy weather and the prevailing winter darkness, asking my guys to make a parachute drop into those mountains goes way beyond the call of duty. Risk is one thing. They all signed on the dotted line when they enlisted. But this is more like a kamikaze run. My troops aren’t even trained for combat search-and-rescue operations.”

Rosenthal nodded grimly. “I’m well aware of that, Captain,” he said. “Unfortunately, the pararescue team we dispatched firstwas ambushed shortly after takeoff. A SAM brought down one of their two helicopters, with heavy casualties.” His gaze hardened.“Which makes your team it, I’m afraid. You and your men are the only airborne-qualified force we’ve got that can reach thosecrash sites sometime in the next twenty-four hours.”

“Someone shot down one of our helicopters?” Flynn said, staggered by the news. Carrying out a missile attack just outsidethe largest military base in Alaska represented an almost unthinkable escalation. “Who? The Russians?”

“Probably,” the general said tersely. He shrugged. “Look, son, for what it’s worth, your orders come straight from the top—fromthe SecDef and the Joint Chiefs. Their assessment is that your mission is of the utmost importance. If we’re going to haveany hope of avoiding an all-out war with Russia, we’ve got to learn more about what really happened out there, both to ourplanes and to theirs. So it’s vital that you find any surviving aircrew and retrieve the flight recorders from every crashsite you can reach.”

Flynn frowned. “That’s one hell of a tall order, sir.”

“Yes, it is,” Rosenthal said flatly. “And I don’t like this much more than you do. But there it is.” His chin came up as helooked Flynn straight in the eyes. “Your country is counting on you and your team right now. I know that may sound corny ashell, but it also happens to be true.”

Shit, shit, shit, Flynn thought irritably. He really hated these kinds of appeals to his patriotism, especially since they were practicallyguaranteed to work on him. Just stick a flea collar around my darned neck and call me Uncle Sam’s Pavlovian dog, he mused in disgust. That was how they got you, he knew, by invoking the danger to a land and a people you loved. And thetrouble was, sometimes the danger was real. If the Russians were suddenly shooting down American planes and helicopters practicallyat will, it was harder and harder to see how the U.S. could avoid a major armed clash with Moscow.

“There’s one more thing that wasn’t included in the first draft of your orders,” Rosenthal continued. “But it comes straightfrom the Joint Chiefs, too. Apparently, there’s also a chance that you might run across another aircraft on the ground outthere. An intact aircraft. And if you do, you’re to report its presence and location immediately, but you are not, repeatnot, to take any further action . . . not without direct orders from either the SecDef or the JCS.”

“Exactly what kind of intact aircraft are we talking about?” Flynn asked carefully. Inside his mind, a whole new set of alarm bells were nowgoing off. “One of ours? One of the Russians? Or one made by little green men from Mars?”

The general winced. “You now know as much about this as I do, Captain.” His expression was not happy. “I’m pushing hard formore data, especially since it may have some bearing on what happened to our Raptors and the other missing planes. And onwhy the Russians are being so goddamned aggressive all of a sudden. So far, though, I’m not getting very far.”

If those internal alarm bells got any louder, Flynn judged, he’d be metaphorically deaf real soon. He scowled. “Just for therecord, sir, this sort of ‘need to know’ bullshit really pisses me off.”

“You’re not alone in that feeling, son,” Rosenthal said. A hint of frustration crept into his voice, confirming what he said.“And I fully understand your own particular aversion to this level of strict secrecy.”

That was true enough, Flynn realized. No matter how “prettied up” the orders justifying his exile to Barter Island may have been, the Pentagon’s version of the