Arctic Storm Rising

Late in the evening, Eastern Standard Time, Director of National Intelligence Jonas Murphy entered the ECR at a rapid walk. The room was filling up fast as Pentagon officials and senior officers representing all six uniformed military branches arrived for this hastily convened meeting. Murphy waved the two aides who’d accompanied him over to a row of chairs reserved for staff and took his own seat among the decisionmakers at the central table.

He nodded politely to Bill Taylor, the secretary of defense, who would chair this meeting. The other man’s thick, black-framed glasses and unkempt white hair made him look a bit like an absent-minded professor, but anyone who judged him on his appearance was in for a shock. A highly successful tech entrepreneur before coming to D.C., Taylor possessed a razor-sharp mind, one capable of juggling enormous amounts of detail without losing sight of the bigger picture. Murphy privately saw him as a huge improvement over the last incumbent at the Defense Department, a slick corporate type who’d seemed far more interested in self-promotion and favorable media reviews than in military readiness and the national interest.

Taylor pushed his glasses back up his nose and nodded in return. “You know anything about all this Russian shit that’s just hit the fan, Jonas?” he asked conversationally.

“I may have a few ideas,” Murphy allowed. How many of his cards he played during this meeting would depend entirely on the situation. The ECR was one of the most secure places in the Pentagon, perhaps in the whole world. But one of the most basic rules of intelligence was that secrets distributed too widely were very soon no longer secrets at all. There were an awful lot of people in this room right now, and leaking classified information to favorite journalists was an old, old game in Washington, D.C.

“Well, I just hope you brought enough intel to share with everybody,” Taylor retorted with a lopsided grin, obviously aware of the DNI’s inner misgivings. Briskly, he activated the microphone in front of him and tapped at it. “Okay, folks, let’s get started. The clock is running, and the president wants our recommendations on his desk, ASAP.” As the room quieted down, he nodded to the briefer, a Navy two-star, up at the podium. “Go ahead and fill us in on what’s been happening over the past several hours, Admiral.”

Short, trim, and fearlessly direct, Rear Admiral Kristin Chao was the current head of the Pentagon’s operations directorate. She pushed a control on her podium, dimming the lights. Simultaneously, screens lit up on the wall behind her. One showed a large-scale digital map of the entire Russian Federation. The rest showed smaller-scale maps of Moscow and its environs, the main bases of Russia’s Aerospace Forces, and the primary ports of Russia’s Northern, Baltic, Black Sea, and Pacific Fleets. A slew of icons representing surface-to-air missile units, fighter regiments, and air surveillance radars appeared across Russia’s vast Far East region. “Beginning approximately eight hours ago, our reconnaissance satellites and other assets detected a much-higher operational tempo across this area,” the admiral said tersely. “Combined with the temporary closure of Polar Route One across central Russia by Moscow, we assessed this activity as signaling the start of a large-scale air defense exercise of some kind.”

“An exercise that we were not informed about in advance, despite the Kremlin’s clear treaty obligations,” Taylor commented dryly.

“No, sir,” Chao agreed. Her expression was unreadable. “But as you know, Moscow honors its diplomatic obligations sparingly, if at all.”

“And even then often only by accident,” Taylor said with a cynical snort.

Chao smiled thinly. “So it seems, Mr. Secretary.”

“So what’s changed?”

“A great deal,” the admiral said simply. She touched another control. Dozens of new icons flashed into existence across the map of Russia and the smaller screens which showed close-up views of its most important political, military, and industrial centers. “Approximately sixty-five minutes ago, SIGINT — signals intelligence — intercepts and new satellite imagery confirmed that Moscow has ordered all of its air defense regiments, radars, and combat air units to their highest alert status. At the same time, the Russians have also closed all transpolar air routes across their territory. No new international flights are being allowed into their airspace.”

“What’s the Kremlin’s explanation for this sudden flurry of activity, Kristin?” the Air Force chief of staff, General Frank Neary, asked.