Geoff wiped a hand up over his brow, continuing up and over his thinning hair. “Jesus, man, I’m hot; are you hot?”

“Huh?” Walter shook his head. “Not really.” He lifted one meaty arm; there was a huge wet ring under it. “Maybe a little.” He went back to his screen.

A line of dots was strung up overhead – some the size of grapes, and others little more than pinpricks of light. Geoff sipped from a bottle of water. “And in twenty-four hours, when the big cheese rolls around, we’ll have them all in a line.”

Walter clapped once, and his feet stomped under his seat. “I can’t wait, I can’t wait, I can’t wait.”

Geoff stood up, frowned, and then kicked off his brown slippers. He clawed his toes on the floor – three feet of solid concrete foundation for telescopic stability. “Hey, I knew it.” He clawed his toes some more. “This is where the warmth is coming from – the floor. It feels like it’s heated.”

Walter turned and blinked at him. He stared for another moment, and then got his feet. He stepped out of his prized Australian sheepskin boots – Uggs, he called them. He also clawed his toes. “Holy shit, man; you’re right.” He looked up. “You don’t think…?”

Geoff shrugged and looked at his feet. “Why not? With that amount of focused gravity it absolutely could cause crustal friction. The displacement alone would throw up a few extra degrees.” He looked up. “Is it a problem?”

Walter pursed his lips. “One or two degrees…now. But what about in twenty-four hours when the moon lines up as well?”

Geoff winced. “We better tell someone.”

“I’m not going outside; way too much weird shit going down.” Walter sat down and went back to his screen. “So, I agree, you better tell someone.”

*

Fort Benning, Columbus, Georgia

Matt felt overwhelmed by the assembled military crowd packed into the room. Abrams had brought them directly to Fort Benning, the new command centre, and one of the largest army posts in the US, with over twenty thousand active-duty military. According to Abrams, it could deploy combat-ready forces by any delivery medium at a moment’s notice. Matt guessed if there was one place you wanted to be when preparing for a home-turf war, it was right there.

A long table had been set up on a platform at the front of the hall-like room. Abrams sat next to Matt and Andy, and along from him was the general, Decker. Hartogg had showered, shaved and was down the back. When Matt caught his eye, he nodded and gave him a you’ll-be-fine gesture.

Dozens of seats were lined up and filled by various military personnel. Most sat talking in groups or with arms folded, eyes like hawks trained on the team at the front.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Decker’s voice boomed, shutting down the chatter. “We are enacting War Plan Red.” The general’s eyes moved across the senior people in the room. None flinched at the term for a strategy to deal with a mainland invasion.