Hawaii islands. October 3rd. 2300 hours.

        The alien vessel sped at sixty knots under the surface of the Pacific Ocean towards a group of volcanic islands. The Commander sat in his black chair overseeing the progress of the submarine without interfering with the automatic navigation system. So far they had gone undetected, except by the water creatures. For the past terran sun rotation they had been conducting small raids against military installations and ships, abducting terrans for experimental purposes and then breaking down their bodies for the precious substances they held. Terran forces, weak and primitive, had scored a few small victories against some science crews - unimportant. The Commander had received from a underwater relay post the message to escalate attacks, widening the scope to civilian targets. Unfortunately, this mission was on a military installation. High Command needed to know the effectiveness of a certain type of terran weapon.
        A light started to buzz in the cockpit as a screen lit up. The vessel's trajectory changed, angling up until it breached the surface. Instead of falling back into the water, the vessel rose and stabilized itself at one hundred feet. The alien checked a three dimensional contour map floating in front of him for range figures and then warned the assault team that arrival was imminent. Behind him, a wide corridor led to a closed door that housed the quarters and equipment bays of the twelve combat Sectoids. He snorted in disgust. Sectoids were lousy fighters. The Commander was not a Sectoid and bore little resemblance to the gray aliens. Several inches over six feet, black outer skin stretched tightly over his exterior skeleton, he was a scary sight. Spiny scales covered his huge arms and powerful legs were his interior skeleton was weakest. His bulging chest and angular head were well protected. At least, he thought, the Sectoids had brought a tank unit along.

        Pearl Harbor Naval Base. Honolulu, Hawaii. 2310

        Seaman Dealo shot upright. A small red light above the radar screen in front of him started to flash a bright red. He checked the screen and saw a white dot in the inner circles of his scope.
        "Sir," he shouted at the officer in charge, "contact at ten miles, speed 400 miles, bearing one-nine-five, course oh-five-five." The officer ran towards the radar operator, his blood already chilling.
        The radar room of the Communications Facilities of Pearl Harbor was located in a separate building of the naval base, manned and guarded every minute of the year. Coordinating with NORAD and the Aerospace Defense Command, it received information from dozens of radar antenna around the island and was tasked with early warning of possible missile attacks on the islands and defense of the Pacific rim.
        "What's up?" The officer skidded to a stop behind the operator.
        "Contact, too large for a missile. Ten miles out and coming directly towards us. ETA is, uh, one minute twenty five seconds at present speed."
        "Not a missile? Where the hell did it come from?"
        "Don't know, sir, but it ain't no missile. Way too big."
        "Awright." He turned and said loudly: "sound the alarm. This is an alpha alert. Get the Colonel down here. Contact NORAD now."

        The alien vessel roared over the naval yard, past a couple of frigates anchored to their berths and straight towards the ordnance section of the base. It broke its forward movement with a sickening deceleration and landed violently in the center of the compound, gravel flying in the air as its landing thrusters contacted the ground. A military police HUMVEE screamed around a corner of a building and dashed towards the landed craft. The Commander activated the land defense systems and immediately acquired the approaching vehicle. A bolt of blue plasma disintegrated the front of the HUMVEE which exploded violently and crashed on its side, all four occupants dying instantly. Sirens started wailing through the base as a group of men came running out of a building, two of them armed. The vessel's onboard plasma guns fired a series of quick shots destroying the building and the running figures.
        Next, the Commander activated another system. Following instructions from the onboard computers, the vessel's torpedo bays fired several salvos into the air. The torpedoes rose near vertically for one thousand feet and then, as white messengers of death, plunged towards the earth. Each followed a carefully pre-programmed flight path, targeted on key installations. Barracks, where confused troops struggled out of beds, the mess hall, radar installations, air defense systems, maintenance shops, officers barracks; all were destroyed instantly.
        The Commander then turned his attention to the ordnance facility. A squat concrete structure set apart from the rest of the buildings, heavily defended and surrounded by barbed wire, concrete and steel car-stoppers and a small guard post. Two guards crouched and fired their M16s, bullets bouncing ineffectively off the vessel's shields and alloy structure. The front entrance to the facility was a one foot thick metal door that would need special treatment. The Commander selected a modified ion cannon and fired a millisecond burst at the door. The blast obliterated the guard post, the guards, most of the surrounding wire and left a gaping hole in the door.
        Cornering wildly around a burning building to the left of the UFO, a ground forces HUMVEE skidded to a halt one hundred and fifty yards away. Anchored to the roof of the jeep on a moving tripod sat a sleek one and half meter tube that resembled a telescope. He jeep's gunner aimed the TOW 2B (Tube-launched, Optically-tracked, Wire-command linked) missile at the massive ship and pressed the trigger. The HEAT missile left the tube and ignited its motor, wires trailing from their spools. The 152mm warhead at the tip of the missile had barely enough time to arm itself as it raced to its target in under one second.
        The vessel shook violently. His ion shields held at 54% power, slightly low after having consumed a large amount of energy on the ion blast at the depot. Bah, it would take little time for the shields to restore and the terrans had puny weapons. The Commander check his ground defense system and noticed that it had acquired a terran vehicle retreating around the corner of a building. It was instantly classified. Next time it appeared it would be wiped out. Intermittent blasts echoed through the vessel as terran troops came running suicidally towards his craft. The Commander gave the order, and the Sectoid soldiers rushed out through the side doors. The HUMVEE moved cautiously around a corner to fire its second TOW rocket at the craft (the first having had little effect) and was instantly destroyed by a plasma shot. But for one second, they saw little gray men pouring from the ship.

        X-COM Base. Cheyenne Mountain.

        The MV-22 Osprey was already airborne when the alien ship breached the ordnance depot's doors. Aboard Keller and his team sat strapping up the plastic-ceramic body armor and checking their weapons. Information was being relayed from the control room to their headsets. It would be a long flight, but they had to get there in time.

        Pearl Harbor Naval Base. Hawaii. 2320

        Colonel Serring drove his HUMVEE wildly past the burning wreck of the main Administration Building and skidded to a stop behind it. He jumped out and ran to where a group of men lay huddled. He recognized a captain and ducked beside him.
        "Captain, " he shouted. Explosions rocked the night air all around, and fires roared unattended. Groups of men fired at the UFO only to be obliterated by precise plasma shots. "Pull the men back to the fence perimeter. We're gonna fire some shit at the ..." he indicated the UFO,"...whatever the fuck it is." The Captain nodded and screamed orders into his hand held set. Serring ran towards his HUMVEE but ducked as it exploded violently.
        "Shit, " he bellowed. He turned and ran at a crouch, taking cover where he could, towards the outer perimeter. Black clouds of smoke rose everywhere. Men lay in heaps, smoke billowing from their burnt bodies, some next to their destroyed vehicles, others at the doors of broken buildings. Over the comm. channel he had heard the cries of the men inside the ordnance depot until no-one answered his frantic calls. He had ordered several attacks on the alien vessel and had tried to get a team a marines inside the depot, with disastrous results. Lights burned brightly at the outer areas of the base. Where the battle raged, the night was illuminated by fire and occasional blue bolts of energy. The center of the base was a mess. Burning cars lay overturned and buildings collapsed from the structural damage inflicted.
        He reached the fence. Dozens of jeeps and a few police cars had assembled, their red and blue lights flashing brightly in the night. He spotted the base MP boss and signaled him over.
        "Major, " he said urgently. "Seal the base. Nothing comes in or goes out. We set up the command post right here."
        "Yessir, " said the MP major. He indicated the police cars, plain clothes already arguing with their sentries. "Cops want to know what's going on."
        "So do I, " replied Serring. "Tell 'em we're under attack. I want all access roads closed in the vicinity. Also, they should evacuate the area of civilians." He looked up as two other cars came screaming to the front gate, their sirens wailing loudly adding to the noise.
        "Sir!" A young corporal from the communications had set up a mobile satellite set on a crate. He sat hunched, headset covering his ears, mike in front of his mouth. "Sir, we have contact with NORAD." Serring moved over and grabbed the mike.
        "This Colonel Serring, ground force Commander. We're under attack by unknown forces. We've evacuated the immediate area and we're holding at the outer perimeter but we've lost control of the ordnance depot." He spoke rapidly.
        "Colonel. This General Roste of NORAD. We copy. Keep the line open. Over." Serring turned to the radio man.
        "Can you raise Hickam Air Force Base?"
        "Yessir." The young corporal punched a dial. He picked up the base's frequency instantly and conversed briefly until he handed the mike back to Serring.
        "Colonel Moave on line, sir."
        Serring snatched the mike. "Colonel, this Colonel Serring from Pearl. We're under attack and have already notified NORAD. We've evacuated but I need to get back into the ordnance depot." Next to him, the young corporal's expression change. The ordnance depot. Holy shit.
        The voice came over without any static, brief and tense. "What do you need Colonel?"
        "Air support. Say a couple of attack helos." Serring noticed that he was gripping the microphone's handle fiercely. His knuckles showed white and sweat poured from his brow.
        "You got it. They'll be there in minutes. I also have two F-16s on patrol. I'll vector those in as well."
        "Thanks. Out." Serring handed the mike back to the corporal and then turned and hailed the MP major.

        On board the alien craft, the Commander thumped his arm on the arm rest. The Sectoids had encountered tougher resistance than expected inside the depot and already they were behind schedule. The terrans were no threat unless they could bring in large numbers of their flying machines. Primitive though they were, their missiles packed quite a punch. Finally, the Sectoids had sent the tank in to deal with the last pocket of terrans defending their goal. He checked the shield's power levels. Seventy five percent. Too slow, they were recovering too slow but the pesky terrans kept launching attacks on his craft, forcing him to spend valuable power on his defense systems.

        The two AH-64D McDonnell Douglas Apache attack helicopters blasted towards the Naval Base at their maximum speed of 180 mph. It had taken them five minutes to lift off, reducing take-off procedures to a bare minimum.
        "Pearl, this is Red One, over."
        "Red One, this is Pearl. Colonel Serring here. We need a target neutralized ASAP. Large aircraft sitting in the center of the compound."
        "Pearl, roger that."
        "Be advised, Red One, proceed with extreme caution. Target has advanced defense capabilities."
        "Roger, Pearl. Out"
        Serring turned and spotted the military police major trotting over from a group of policemen. He waved to him and started speaking quickly.
        "Awright, listen. We got some air cover on its way. They'll hit the, uh, craft or whatever the fuck it is. Major, then we take back the depot. Get the men organized." The major nodded and turned towards a group of soldiers, already shouting instructions.
        "Sir." The young communications corporal. "We have CINCNORAD on line." The Commander in Chief of NORAD. Serring snatched the mike. Better make it quick. He had a feeling he didn't have much time left. "Colonel Serring here, sir," he said.
        "Colonel, this is General Roste. Listen up. There's a team of special operations agents flying in towards you. They'll be there in approximately eight hours. What I'm going to tell you is highly confidential." Three minutes later Serring cut the mike and stared into space. Mother of God. It was true and he was smack in the middle of it. He waved the MP major over again.
        "Change of plans. We got some special ops guys coming in. Our new orders, keep the vessel from taking off, seal the base and contain whatever tries to leave. Got it?" The major nodded, somewhat flustered.
        "But the depot?"
        "Special ops takes care of that. Listen, the craft has a shield mechanism. That's why we're not doing any damage but we gotta keep hitting it. Reduce the shields so that the helo can get a good punch in. Get the fire teams moving. TOWs, LAW's anything you got. Just keep hitting the thing, OK?"
        The major nodded and turned to give the new orders.

        Flying at three thousand feet a pair of General Dynamics F-16s roared towards the base at close to four hundred knots. Onboard, the pilots stared in horror at the destruction of the base through their TV screens. Infrared monitors flared brightly from the numerous fires. At five miles from the target both aircraft initiated a rapid descent to three hundred feet, buffeting violently in the night air currents coming from the sea. They approached quickly and blasted over the target, arcing high and to the left, executing a roll over maneuver in order to acquire and lock the grounded UFO with their laser designators. At ground level the UFO rocked as the supersonic jets washed air over it. The Commander looked at his screens and confirmed that the defense systems had already targeted the escaping terran air vehicles. Bad. The terrans were getting their act together already sending in their machines. He checked his shield and power displays. Eighty two percent. Worse. Ahead of him he spotted the first of the Sectoids exit the ordnance depot carrying a large bundle in its arms. About time.
        The defense system rotated the plasma cannon and fire a quick bolt. For the mission he had been assigned an armed transport, not the latest generation but still more than enough to blast in, destroy the compound, gain their prize and waltz out unharmed.
        At seven hundred feet the plasma bolt missed the Falcon. The Commander sat aghast. Missed. He rechecked the screens and saw the reason. Hundred of particles a quick scan revealed to be aluminum and several bright phosphorus lights littered the wake of the aircraft. In addition, the aircraft's pilot constantly jinked his Falcon creating pockets of turbulence. The defense system had incorrectly judged the shot. He hunched forward, recalibrated and fired again. Higher power as the terran vehicle was moving rapidly away. This time he sat back satisfied watching the ensuing explosion as the terran's craft was hit. The other one reversed course and dropped like a stone towards the ground moving out of sight. The Commander considered firing a tracking missile but decided against. Not worth the effort.
        Suddenly his craft rocked again. The defense system informed him of two missile hits on the shields. Particle scanners presented a group of terrans scattering behind an overturned land vehicle with some kind of small missile apparatus. No problem. He'd soon fixed that. He checked forward again and saw the Sectoids running towards his craft under cover of the tank. Three, four and a fifth. Seven to go. Back to the terrans. He aligned with the upended vehicle and fired a quick bolt. Anything behind the vehicle would surely be squashed.
        Wham, wham. Two more shots on his shields. A loud buzz sounded informing him that he was under forty percent power on shields. Getting worse. He decided that he'd pick up the five returning Sectoids and then leave the others to fend for themselves. High Command would have to do with five terran weapons. He'd order the tank to evaporate the Sectoids and then autodestroy itself.
        Wham, wham. Hit by two LAW (Lightweight Anti-Armor Weapon) missiles with 66mm warheads. The terrans were organizing an attack. Come on, he wished, hurry up. Shields down to thirty percent.

        The first Apache cleared the hill half a mile behind the Naval Depot where the large radar antenna were located. Maintaining hover a scant twenty feet off the ground the gunner trained his TADS, Target Acquisition and Designation System, on the UFO. In front, the pilot's eyes widened.
        "The fuck is that?"
        "Don't know, man, but it's history," replied the gunner.
        The TADS system, a complex radar and computer system mounted on the nose of the helicopter, instantly locked the UFO in and measured the distance with a laser designator, feeding information to the Rockwell AGM-114 Hellfire missiles. Located under the stubby wings on pylons, four a piece on either side, the semi-active mode missiles were tank busters. The gunner was about to fire when he died.

        Aboard the craft, the alien worried as his defense system locked on the terran flying vehicle and emitted a high powered beam in its direction. Power to his armed systems was down to fifteen percent. He needed to get out of the area, fast. He looked down at his center screen and ordered the vessel into take-off mode.

        Aboard the second Apache, a shocked pilot watched his buddy explode into flames. He brought his helo down and shouted into his mouth mike.
        "Joe, lock on and fire quick."
        He rose quickly above the hill and waited nervously a few seconds until the computers had decided he could fire. His gunner mashed the triggers in his yoke, sending his four starboard Hellfires on a straight course towards UFO and then yelled all clear. The pilot dropped the Apache like a rock as a blast of superheated particles scorched the air above him.

        In the UFO the commanders eyes widened. Four missiles sped towards him and his power read in the lower end of the spectrum. The transport was doomed. Curses. He glared furiously at a screen and sent an emergency signal. Someone would have to come pick them up.

        The first Hellfire slammed into the shields, destroying them, draining power from the ship. The remaining three impacted on the hull of the transport, buckling the alloy and wiping out the rear section. The ion impulse drives blew, leaving the ship without any type of power. As lights and systems switched off, the Commander exited through the emergency hatch into the night and moved quickly to the doors of the ordnance depot under cover of the tank.