Dateline

New Year's Eve, 2347 local / T plus 7 hours, 47 minutes

Camp Bastion, Afghanistan

It was chaos in the situation room. Soldiers of all ranks from many different nations were running to and fro, shouting instructions and orders across the room; different languages conflicted with each other as protocol went out the window and everyone reverted to their natural tongue in the confusion and panic.

It was easy to know why, less easy to comprehend. In one corner, a large monitor was sectored into four screens, each displaying a satellite news channel; CNN, BBC, Sky and Al Jazeera, all showing the same story, all as confused as each other and grasping for an explanation. Thirty minutes before, footage from a recorded skype conversation between a man in America and his sister in Auckland, New Zealand had been uploaded on YouTube, and by now all the news outlets had got a copy and were playing it over and over on repeat.

Claire tried hard not to watch again as the crowd of revellers enjoying a warm evening celebrating the start of another year just ... evaporated ... seemingly into thin air. What could do such a thing? Was is a weapon? Whose? The Russians? North Korea? ...Someone, or something, else?

Analysts had already downloaded a copy and were poring over the content. Futile gesture, she knew. They were bound to be doing the same thing back in Washington, and they had much better image processing and analysis techniques there than they did out here in the sticks.

"Major, you're wanted on the high-phone!"

The high-phone - camp slang for satellite comms unit, so called because it linked directly to a satellite in geostationary orbit directly above them, bouncing an encrypted clink across to another relay sat and back down to the Pentagon - a direct line to home.

"I'll take it on the mobile."

The technician nodded and transferred the call direct to one of the camps secure wireless handsets, which meant she was free to roam wherever she pleased on the camp. Her first move was to get out of SitCom, another camp slang term - short for Situation and Communications.

"Major Soames speaking."

The voice on the other end was deep and gravelly; an assuredly commanding voice belonging to a commanding personage. "Major, it's General Taylor."

"General. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Are you free to talk? Can you get outside the base and stay connected? I need you to do something for me."

Claire frowned at the question, pulling a face that expressed her confusion and surprise. "I can. The question is, should I? Kind of busy here at the moment." Surely the General must know what was happening?

"This is important Claire."

He'd used her first name. That hardly ever happened. That was a bad sign. It either meant sh had done something wrong, or ... no, push that thought aside.

"Give me a second." Leaning back into the SitCom, she shouted for her second in command to take charge while she took an important call, then went outside and requisitioned the nearest Humvee. Gunning the big vehicle through the camp towards the exit, she put the phone on speaker. "Okay, what's going on, General?"

"Will this phone work outside the camp boundary? It's important we stay connected."

"As long as I don't go too far, yes."

"Good, I want you to get outside, away from the lights. I need you to have an uninterrupted view to the east."

"The east. Got it."

At the main gate, she showed her pass to the guard, who tried to argue she shouldn't be leaving the compound without an escort.

"It's okay soldier, I'll be back in a minute." Flooring the Humvee once more, Clarie took the vehicle out and around the camp, bouncing over low scrub and sandy desert floor. After a few minutes she stopped the Humvee and killed the engine, then got out and stood in the darkness. Behind her, to the west, the faintest hint of light still kissed the horizon , but to the east, the darkness was absolute, the sky full of stars that reached down like a curtain to the mountains.

"Okay, I'm out here. What am I to do now?"

"I want a report. Nothing too complex. Just your observations as it happens. I should tell you, I have the president listening to this conversation too. You understand?"

Holy cow. For the first time, the bad feeling that had been milling around in her stomach at the events of the last couple of hours came to the fore and caused her to break out in sweat.

"It's really happening, isn't it? This is it, right?"

The generals voice was low with regret and sorrow. "I think it might be, Major. If our intel is correct, this could well be our last conversation. But it's important we get some corroboration; an on the ground view. You are the only person I can trust to do so objectively. Can you do that for me?"

She tried to hold back the tears, but they came anyway. "Yes. You can count on me."

"Good. It's almost time. What can you see?"

"The stars are fading. I could see them fine a few minutes ago, now the ones low down I can't make out.

It's getting lighter on the horizon. All the way, north to south..., a kind of golden glow, richer in hue lower down, fading to nothing high up.

I can make out the mountains real easy now. And ... I can smell something like ozone ... a sharp smell in the air, and there's sound now too. Not loud, but I can hear it. Like static electricity, but deeper in sound. I can feel it in my stomach and through my feet.

Coming closer now, I can make out movement. I think ... I think it will be here any second."

On the other end of the line, Claire heard the general's breathing pause, a catch in the rhythm betraying emotion.

"I love you daddy."

"Love you too sugar-pie"

The phone remained connected for several seconds, long enough for the general to hear the whistle of desert wind over the static of the line.