The command bunker was a cacophony of klaxons, digital alarms and panicked shouting. Rast yelled into his microphone, adding to the din.

“Base to First Contact One! Colonel Seifert has flatlined. Report current status immediately! First Contact One, please resp—” Rast broke off as the vital sign monitors for Gygax, Acklin and Burkhart fell flat just like Seifert’s.

“Shit.” Rast switched channels, his voice tight but calm. “Base to defense forces. We are at Condition Omega. First contact team is down; unidentified life forms are considered hostile. I repeat: We are at Condition Omega.”

The scientist in Rast didn’t agree with the Omega Protocol—a massive retaliatory strike if the first contact team was disabled. Still, he was soldier enough that he held to procedure. It was not his place to rewrite NATO policy on the fly.

As activity around the Hadron crater escalated to fever pitch, Rast’s eyes stayed glued to the vital sign monitors. Show me something. Before it’s too late.