1:00 a.m. · Deep Desert · A Bald Eagle Base
Radar monitor Johnson finished his last cigarette and stubbed it out in a cola can.
At one in the morning, the desert night wind carried a chill, making him yawn.
He stood, stretched lazily, and gave the radar screen a routine glance.
Everything was normal. There was nothing.
He turned and walked toward the next room, where lights were on and faint music drifted out.
He pushed open the door. Smoke hung in the air, and beer cans lay scattered across the floor.
Several comrades were gathered around a table playing cards, with loose change and a few porn magazines piled on it.
"Hey, Johnson! Get over here, this hand's interesting!" someone called, waving at him.
"That one we played last time was seriously wild."
Another sergeant, his face covered in stubble, took a swig of beer and smacked his lips.
"You guys should try it next time. Guaranteed to blow your minds."
"Oh, spare us your taste." Everyone burst into laughter.
Johnson smiled and sat down, casually taking the cards handed to him. The door closed behind him, and the music once more drowned everything out.
The radar beeped in the next room. The sound was monotonous, repetitive, just as usual. Only its frequency was growing faster and faster.
No one heard it. On the radar screen, densely packed blips were rising from the horizon, growing from a hundred to two hundred, from two hundred to five hundred.
They covered the sky like a swarm of locusts. The beeping became increasingly frantic until it finally merged into one continuous shriek.
The laughter in the room drowned out everything.
1:20 a.m. · Base Commander's Quarters
A piercing telephone ring jolted the commander awake.
He shot upright, his heart pounding. A