The sergeant pointed the binoculars at the dormant aircraft and searched for signs of life. The field was empty. Most of the men were either in the nearby town of Panaghia drinking beer, sunbathing on the beach or napping in the air-cooled barracks. Only a solitary MP guarding the main gate, and the constant rotation of the radar antennae atop its cement bunker offered any form of human presence. He slowly raised the lenses and peered over the azure sea. It was a bright, cloudless day, and he could easily recognize details on the distant Greek mainland. The glasses swung east and gathered in the horizon line where deep blue water met light blue sky. Through the shimmering haze of heat waves the white speck of a ship resting at anchor came into view. He squinted and adjusted the focus knob to clarify the ship's name on the bow. He could just barely make out the tiny black words: First Attempt.

That's a dumb name, he thought. The significance escaped him. Other markings also darkened the ship's hull. In long, heavy, black lines across the center of the hull were the vertical letters NUMA, which he knew stood for the National Underwater Marine Agency.

A huge crooked crane stood on the stern of the ship and hung over the water, lifting a round ball-like object from the depths. The sergeant could see men laboring about the crane, and he felt inwardly glad that civilians had to work on a Sunday too.

Suddenly his visual exploration was cut short by a robot-like voice over the intercom.

"Hello, Control Tower, this is Radar…Over!"

The sergeant laid down the binoculars and flicked a microphone switch. "This is the Control Tower, Radar. What's up?"

"I've got a contact about ten miles to the west."

"Ten miles west?" boomed the sergeant. "That's inland over the island. Your contact is practically on top of us." He turned and looked again at the big lettered blackboard, reassuring himself that no scheduled flights were due. "Next time, let me know sooner?"

"Beats me where it came from," droned the voice from the radar bunker. "Nothing has shown on the scope in any direction under one hundred miles in the last six hours."

"Well either stay awake down there or get your damn equipment checked," snapped the sergeant. He released the mike button and grabbed the binoculars. Then he stood up and peered to the west.