The Bear

Alaska Command

General Allan Foxx, Alaskan Theater commander was back at his office trying to make sure everything had settled down. Nothing else had shown up across the Bering Sea, nor had any traces come over the poles. He had two E-3 Sentry aircraft, each with a pair of F-16C Falcons patrolling north of Barrow and Point Hope, watching the Santa routes. What else, he thought? What else? He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest as he looked at the giant map of the northern hemisphere that covered the wall opposite his desk. He followed the coast, tracing along the nautical boundary claimed by the United States. Some aspects were in dispute, as were many boundaries around the world, but most were generally respected. Maybe this was just one of those tests.

But it didn’t feel that way. What was he missing? A deep exhale allowed his eye to fall to the bottom of the map. That was it! He was only seeing part of the picture; his part. There was an entire world he was missing and his vision stopped at the State of Washington. This could only be the tip of the iceberg, as it were. His hand immediately went to his phone as he punched up a number directly to the DOD, Air Force Chief of Staff.

“General Richter’s office.”

“This is General Foxx, Alaska command. I need to speak to General Richter.”

“Yes sir. It’s kind of hectic around here, General.”

“I could have guessed that. That’s why I’m calling.”

“I’ll put you right through, General. He’s in the command room.”

“General Richter? You have a call.”

“Richter.” The command center was a beehive of activity. The Air Force Chief of Staff stuck a finger in his ear to help block out the noise.

“General Richter? Alan Foxx.”

“So this is all your fault, Foxx.”

“Afraid so, sir.” Foxx swallowed hard. He wasn’t high on the list of Richter’s favorite people, having clashed early in their careers. “I can barely hear you sir.”

“Not surprised. This place is a beehive. There’s more brass here than at an antique dealer.”

“Sir, I know the trouble started up here with the Russian incursion, but is anything happening anywhere else?”

“What’s on your mind, Foxx?”

“Sir, I was wondering if this is just a diversion; if something else was going on that I can’t see.”

“That’s what we’re looking into, Foxx. Just keep your end covered up there.”

The line went dead, and the theater commander just looked at the receiver. He should have known better. DOD. was probably looking at the same questions he had. But he needed his own answers, and he needed them quick. What did he have at his disposal to find them? There’s a broader picture here somewhere. But where?

“Yes General?” The aide turned in his chair as Foxx came out of his office.

The General looked out over the room like he was searching for something. He stepped to the large table pushed up against the far wall and summarily shoved everything on it to the floor. The sounds of lamps, plants and bric-a-brac hitting the tile stopped everyone in their place.

“General?”

“Get me maps. Lots of maps.”

“Maps to what, sir?”

“Everything. I want maps of every place you can find.” He turned to the aide sitting at the desk, placed his hands on his hips and just stared him down.”

“Uhm, yes sir. Right away sir.”

Within the hour, the table was covered with every type of map anyone could find, maps that spanned the surface of the globe were taped together forming a hodge-podge earth. Someone even brought a map of the near side of the moon. Hey, orders were orders. The commander of the Alaskan theater pulled the table away from the wall into the center of the room. Then, he began to circle. He walked in silence for several minutes before someone summoned the nerve to ask what he was doing.

“Give me a marker, Lieutenant.” A nod from his junior officer was quickly supplemented with a large, black Sharpie. “What’s your name?”

“Lieutenant Tonney sir.”

“Lieutenant, you a smart cookie?”

“Top of my class, sir. I’d like to think so.”

“Well, mister top of my class, you’ve got a new job to do.”

“Sir?”

“Tonney, you’re about to get access to some very important information.” General Foxx leaned over and put a big, black X on the coast where the bomber went down. “I want you to co-ordinate all the incidents of Russian incursion over the last six months.

“That shouldn’t be too hard sir. There can’t be too many of them in Alaska.”

“I’m not just talking Alaska, son,” Foxx said as he leaned in over the table. “I’m talking, everywhere in the world.”