76: Chapter 76 Ship Tickets? What ship tickets?

The morning sunlight began to dispel the chill, casting warm patches of light on the carpet.

US President George held a cup of freshly ground Blue Mountain coffee, his mood as bright as the clear sky outside.

He flipped through a poll report on his desk, the corners of his mouth unable to stop curling upward.

Support ratings were warming up again.

All it took was one perfectly timed display of muscle to turn this recovery into an absolute celebration of approval ratings.

"According to the plan, the USS Reagan should be approaching its designated waters right about now," George said casually to the White House Chief of Staff beside him.

"I imagine our friends in the East have already received our friendly greetings."

The Chief of Staff smiled and nodded: "Yes, Mr. President. The headlines for the next few days have already been reserved for you."

The World's Police were patrolling the globe once more.

Nothing could soothe the public's restless anxiety over the economic downturn better than this.

Just then.

"Bang!"

The thick oak door of the office was violently slammed open, and Secretary of Defense Holman rushed in.

He paid no attention to anyone; his graying hair was slightly disheveled.

His eyes, usually as sharp as a hawk's, were now bloodshot, and his face was so gloomy it looked like water could be wrung from it.

The relaxed atmosphere in the office instantly froze.

George's brow furrowed.

He put down his coffee cup, his tone carrying a hint of annoyance at being disturbed: "Holman, I believe my secretary told you I require quiet this morning."

"Quiet?" Holman's voice was as hoarse as shattered stone.

"We might never have quiet days again!"

George's heart skipped a beat, an ominous premonition surging through his mind.

He waved, signaling the Chief of Staff to leave first, and the office door closed softly.

"What happened?" George asked in a deep voice, "Was there an accident during the exercise?"

Holman stared intensely at George, squeezing out a few words through clenched teeth, one by one.

"The fleet... is returning."

"What?" George froze, suspecting he had misheard.

"Mission completed early? Not bad efficiency."

"No!" Holman's volume suddenly spiked.

"They were forced to retreat!"

"Under the command of our own fleet commander, Rear Admiral Williams, they turned tail and sailed back like a pack of stray dogs!"

George shot up from his chair, the color instantly draining from his face.

"Forced back? By whom? The Chinese? They dared to make a move against the USS Reagan?!"

He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"What did they use? The entire Eastern Theater's air force and navy? Why didn't Williams fight back?!"

Holman gave a grim smile mixed with fear and absurdity.

He walked to George's desk and slammed an encrypted combat briefing report onto the surface.

"Fight back? Mr. President, you tell me, who are we supposed to fight back against?!"

George snatched the report and quickly scanned it.

"...The USS Reagan Carrier Strike Group arrived in international waters at 125 degrees East longitude, 28 degrees North latitude..."

"...At 20:13 Beijing time, the Bridge Command Center received the highest level combat alert..."

"...Multiple unidentified high-speed flying targets sighted visually, painted dark gray, bearing the red military insignia of the Chinese Air Force on their wings..."

By this point, George's breathing had become ragged.

He continued reading, his pupils suddenly contracting.

"...The Aegis system radar, carrier-borne early warning aircraft radar, and satellite detection network... all reported no signal feedback! Repeat, the radar displayed the airspace as 'clean'!'"

"...At 20:15, our USS Reagan aircraft carrier, the cruisers USS Princeton and USS Normandy, and the destroyer USS Chung-Yun... a total of seven major warships had their fire control radars locked simultaneously!"

"...At 20:16, Rear Admiral Williams ordered the strike group to abandon the exercise mission and immediately turn around, returning at full speed, to avoid 'unpredictable devastating strikes'..."

George threw the report onto the floor, his chest heaving violently; he felt the blood rushing to his head!

Visible to the naked eye, yet undetectable by radar!

They could lock onto you, but you couldn't even find a shadow of the enemy!

What did this mean?

It meant that this invincible fleet, costing hundreds of billions and hailed as the 'unsinkable sea fortress,' was nothing more than a line of defenseless targets floating on the water in the eyes of the adversary!

An unprecedented wave of humiliation and terror instantly washed over George.

He suddenly looked up, glaring at Holman with bloodshot eyes, his voice trembling with rage.

"This is what you guaranteed me—that military power is the ultimate bargaining chip?!"

"This is what you meant when you said the ship pass for the new era was still firmly in our hands?!"

George's voice grew louder with each word; he grabbed the crystal globe from the desk and smashed it violently onto the floor!

"Crash!"

The crystal globe shattered into pieces, scattering across the floor.

"Ship pass? Holman! They don't even want the ship! They flew their ghost planes right over our heads and defecated!"

George pointed at Holman's nose and roared hysterically.

"And you! You arrogant fool! You delivered our most elite fleet right to the doorstep of their slaughterhouse!"

Holman's face cycled between pale and ashen under the verbal assault.

His proud military judgment, the belief in absolute power he had built his entire life, was shattered in this moment.

"I don't know... How could I have known they possessed something like this..."

He muttered to himself, his eyes filled with confusion and unwillingness.

"This doesn't conform to logic! This is impossible! Something must have gone wrong somewhere! Maybe it was Russia..."

"Enough!" George roughly cut him off.

"Can't you see the Chinese military insignia on the report?! You, the Secretary of Defense, what else can you do besides leading the fleet out to show off?!"

"Then what do you want me to do?!" Cornered, Holman also exploded. He slammed his hand on the table and roared back.

"Declare war on them?! Using our 'blind' radar systems?! Or send our pilots to dogfight with ghosts?!"

These words were like a bucket of ice water, instantly extinguishing George's anger.

Yes.

Declare war?

And then what?

Sit back and watch our fleets and bases be erased from the map one by one by attacks from unknown directions?

The office fell into a deathly silence.

The sunlight outside was still bright, but these two most powerful men in the world felt as if they were trapped in a bitter cold night.

For the first time, they realized how pale and powerless their proud 'truth'—their aircraft carriers, nuclear bombs, and military bases—were in the face of a new, incomprehensible power.

After a long time, George slumped back into his chair, looking as if he had aged ten years in an instant.

He waved his hand, his voice tired and hoarse.

"Recall Williams. Find an excuse. Don't let this escalate."

"Announce publicly... that the exercise was ended early due to severe weather."

This was an incredibly humiliating decision, but it was the only way to save the last shred of dignity.

Holman opened his mouth but ultimately offered no rebuttal, tacitly accepting the shameful plan.

"And one more thing!"

George looked up, his former sharpness and confidence completely gone, replaced by deep apprehension and lingering fear.

"I need to know where they... got these things that don't belong in this era!"

George's voice was kept low, but it carried an unquestionable command.

"Also..."

"I need other targets to divert attention and save my approval ratings!"

Holman quickly agreed.

"I understand, Mr. President!"

"It's time to clean up the thorns in South America!"