It all started in space, 160 kilometers far above our heads.

The Solaris satellite numbered as "SOLM-07" and named as "Foch" orbited over Europe. Its role was to be a militarized version of Solaris satellites, smaller yet more nimble and more flexible in its role as a military satellite. It mounted self-defense weaponry, unlike its civilians cousins like the Cassini and the Kepler. It was launched without any problems, however, when it came to orbit, its propellant tanks and three of its station-keeping arcjets were damaged by an unknown debris collision, and it suffered significant orbital decay in the process. The original plan called for crashing the satellite either in the Atlantic or the Pacific, but the French was unable to make contact with the autonomous satellite.

Fourteen hours, seventeen minutes and thirty seconds after a botched orbital insertion, the satellite crashed in Anchorage, Alaska.

****

"Attention!"

The mood inside the A400M cargo bay was deathly tense. The men, from 2e REP of the French Rapid Reaction Force, did not know their mission yet, but they know it is serious enough as to call them off from a scheduled general training exercise.

"You men," their debriefer called Dubois called out, "This mission is must be letter-perfect. And when I mean letter perfect," He paused for emphasis. "I mean something that would put the Russian Spetsnaz to shame."

Silence reigned in the men, leaving the monotone drone of the engine as the only noise.

"Why, you ask? That's because I have a feeling that you're going against them."


****

Several miles from Provideniya Bay Airport, an Mi-26 was cruising along the vast Bering Strait. Inside, the men were huddled together, while the officers were chatting along inside their single BMD.

"Colonel Tupolev, what do you think of the mission?"

Tupolev looked at his sergeant. Although he is technically a superior to him, he learned to value the old man's questions and suggestions.

"I am confident, tovarishch serzhant. You?"

"I am worried about this mission, polkovnik. We fight Europeans in American land. Are you not bothered by the sound of that?"

"No," Tupolev replied defiantly. "I'm not."

Very interesting premise and appropriate so far. Do carry on.

EDIT: Changes made.

"Our mission, men," Dubois continued, "is to eliminate any evidence of a crashed Solaris satellite in its crash site. Any questions?"

One hand raised almost immediately. Dubois already knew the question.

"Where exactly is the crash site, commandant?

Dubois smiled, and replied fancifully, "In Anchorage, Alaska, of course. We're going to America."

No further questions were asked as the A400 traveled over the frozen Arctic.

****

"All right, soldiers!" Tupolev shouted as he and the Sergeant disembarked from the BMD. "You all have been given the briefing papers, and you were given time to analyze the mission parameters carefully. Any questions?"

One hand raised. "What is the opposition, sir?"

"Most probably civilians or police personnel, but we must also include contingency plans if the Alaska National Guards respond." Tupolev replied.

"What are the mission parameters for us? It isn't elaborated much, sir." A member of the sniper team inquired.

"Shoot only in self defense. No f*cking around." The Sergeant answered for Tupolev. He smiled mischievously, and said, "Even if you see an entire platoon of Amerikantsi whores wander before you."

Small laughs answered the Sergeant's rough sense of humor. Even Tupolev, who was a serious man, smiled at the thought.

****

"Holy-"

A loud BOOM crashed near Collin Creevy's house as watched his large pasture light up, burning some of his moose in the process. After gathering his wits, he called the police, and several minutes later, the Anchorage Police was in the scene.

****

"Sheriff, would you look at that?"

The Sheriff came over and saw a large piece of a wreckage sunk in the ground. After looking at it, he responded, "What the hell..."

The Sheriff only spent a small time of his life in the National Guard, but he knew what a PDL looks like when he sees one.

Minor detail: If those are French paratroopers talking to each other, it would be 'commandant'. Germans would 'spell' it with a K.

"Say again, Sheriff?"

"I said," The Sheriff spoke for the third time, "I think a military satellite crashed here in Alaska, sir."

"Mmm-Hmm." The captain on-duty of Fort Greely was both surprised and not surprised at the same time. He was surprised, since any American satellite that crashes down everywhere would be covered by media hype and whatnot, and not surprised, since if this was not an American satellite, then they wouldn't have been able to track it anyway, given the Army's general lack of funding.

"All right. I'll be sending some of my tech weenies there. Out."

****

"Thirty minutes until zero-hour, gentlemen."

The men inside the A400M immediately rushed to landing positions. Dubois dutifully stood at the back, watching the paratroopers line up, their steely nerves hiding their fright.

"Twenty-eight minutes."

"All right men," Dubois shouted, "Let's show the Americans that we French don't surrender!"

****

"Polkovnik, ten minutes until feet-dry."

"Da, da, coming forward." Tupolev grumbled as the pilot reminded him of where they are.

"How long until the drop?"

"We might need more than an hour, give or take."

"An hour?" Tupolev inquired with a menacing voice. "Why that long?"

"Tovarishch Polkovnik," The pilot replied calmly, "The Americans have stationed many radar sites in this part of their country. It would be foolish to fly over them, so we will fly in a zigzag pattern, flying low and staying on the fringes of Amerikantsi radar."

"Fair enough." Tupolev grumbled. No one wants to be a waiting soldier.

****

"Twenty minutes. Starting descent."

The A400M started coming down from its cruising height and went as low as possible, to avoid American radar. There was minimal turbulence; the night was clear, cold and dry. The A400M came down at a height of seven hundred and fifty feet and a speed of only two hundred and fifty knots, lest they crash in a mountain unexpectedly. Due to the low height of the plane, constant course corrections were needed, which put a toll on the pilots, who were fatigued already by the long journey.

"What the hell is that thing?!"

The Sheriff was torn away from looking at the PDL and went to one of his policemen. The policeman was pointing at something that was glowing brightly, though the fires are already extinguished by the snow.

It was something circular, aglow with a yellowish hue.

The Sheriff scratched his stubbly beard and remarked, "Well, that's new."

"Sheriff!" Another policeman remarked. "Those guys from Fort Greely is here!"
****

"Five minutes until zero-hour, gentlemen."

The drop door of the A400M opened, exposing all of the people in the cargo bay to the cold, Alaskan air.

"Remember, no firing until fired upon! Well then." Dubois reminded the men.

"Five." The cargo technician counted. The howling air made it hard for the men to speak among themselves.

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"Wait-" The pilot said on the speakers.

"One."

"DROP!"

And with that, the men jumped off the plane, their parachutes at ready.

"Captain Dubois! There's men on the site!"

But Dubois was already jumping the air before he heard that.

****

"Sergeant Lewis, from Fort Greely's liaison team. So, Sheriff, what's going on?"

"Well," The Sheriff started to speak, "As you can see, something crashed down here and started a big-ass fire. Then-"

They were interrupted by sudden whoomphs, the sound of something landing soft in the snow.