89: Chapter 89 Worst-Case Plan

Inside the conference room, hearing the President's question, the Secretary of Defense said solemnly: "The conclusion is, if they decide to act, from Manhattan to the White House, at A-Zu's speed, it would take less than thirty seconds at the fastest."

"Thirty seconds isn't even enough for me to use the bathroom," the President said.

But no one present was amused by the President's joke.

"Our air defense network's reaction time, from detection to interception, is about forty-five seconds, provided the target is a ballistic missile with a fixed trajectory and a calculable impact point."

"But A-Zu has no trajectory. He could stop halfway to drink a cup of coffee and then continue flying; our radar operators would think it's equipment failure."

The Secretary of Defense pushed a document over: "By the time our interception order goes through the layers of reporting, A-Zu could have already turned the White House into a pile of rubble from the air."

"Then what if we strike first?" the President asked.

"That would mean betting on their reaction speed with a nuclear bomb." The Secretary of Defense turned to the next page of the plan: "A Trident missile carrying a W76-2 low-yield nuclear warhead, launched from an Ohio-class submarine."

"Five to six kilotons, locking onto the location of the Planet Wuhu shop, completing the strike within their reaction time window."

"But there are too many variables for success. How strong is this A-Zu's biological early-warning system? Can an A-rank Esper withstand the first shockwave? Have their body structural units reached the level of atomic-level defense? Although A-rank is lower than S-rank, I don't know how steep this downward curve is."

"Are you telling me that whether our most effective nuclear weapon can kill them or not, we won't know until we throw one?"

"Yes." The Secretary of Defense did not try to lie. "But if we don't strike first, it's not a question of whether we can win, but that we won't have a chance to fight at all."

The office was dead silent. The Secretary of State's hand, holding a pen, hovered over his notebook, unable to bring it down.

In this gap, Cole spoke up: "Mr. President. I want to ask a question that perhaps we shouldn't ask, but I feel it must be clarified first."

The President made a "speak" gesture.

"We are discussing bombing the Planet Wuhu people with nuclear bombs, but these Planet Wuhu people were let in by Ball Chief Chen Mu. Their leader calls Chen Mu 'Commander', their businesswoman shuts up after Chen Mu coughs once, and their S-rank King is locked in a gravity prison by the Guga Civilization."

"If we take action against the Planet Wuhu people, whether it's a nuclear bomb or some other means, how will Chen Mu react?"

"Let me phrase it another way: If we successfully bomb A-Zu and his dozen or so clansmen to death, will Chen Mu applaud us? Or will he turn around and flatten the White House?"

No one could answer this question.

Cole continued: "I am not against the Secretary of Defense's plan. I just think that before anyone presses the nuclear button, we should do one thing first."

"What thing?"

"Test Ball Chief Chen Mu's attitude."

"We can manufacture some small conflicts with those Planet Wuhu people, then bring it to the Interstellar Court established by the Ball Chief. When the time comes, no matter how he rules, we can clearly determine his attitude towards both humanity and the Planet Wuhu people."

The President's eyes lit up. This plan could be said to be very stable; it was the Eastern military tactic of "throwing a stone to ask the way."

"Cole, you are a fucking genius. I will leave this matter entirely to you. Be sure to ensure the conflict does not escalate."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Cole did not smile. "But I still need to say one more thing. Since we are discussing the nuclear button, as the National Security Advisor, I have an obligation to ensure one thing."

She turned to the Secretary of Defense: "If A-Zu decides to act, he can reach the White House within thirty seconds. What is our emergency evacuation plan? Can the President enter the underground bunker within those thirty seconds? What is the Secret Service's reaction time?"

The Secretary of Defense flipped through the folder in front of him: "The Secret Service's standard reaction time, from the alarm sounding to the President entering the underground bunker, is seven minutes."

"Seven minutes, but A-Zu only needs thirty seconds."

Cole turned back to the President: "So before we discuss any counterattack plan, we need to sync the fact that A-Zu can behead the President at any time into the Secret Service's threat assessment system."

The President's smile faded: "Cole, are you here to give me a security assessment, or to tell me I'm dead?"

"No, Mr. President, I am just preparing for the worst-case scenario," Cole analyzed. "This A-Zu may not be able to defeat our entire United States or even the entire human civilization, but he absolutely has the ability to destroy all human governments. We must have a backup plan."

This sentence had more penetration than any sarcasm. Everyone subconsciously looked at the Vice President. After all, once something happened to the President, the Vice President would temporarily take over command and decide whether to launch nuclear missiles.

"Ahem!"

The CIA Director, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, coughed, breaking the awkwardness first. Only then did everyone come back to their senses.

"Mr. President, I have been thinking about one thing. If a nuclear bomb can't kill that A-Zu, then we can only find other ways. Is it possible for us to find cracks within them?"

He opened the folder with a blank cover in front of him.

"I reviewed the video of the mall negotiations repeatedly today. A-Zu basically didn't participate in the trade negotiations at all. Kara was the one doing the negotiating, and Kara was the one giving the quotes."

"And the others basically didn't dare to speak throughout the entire process, but their expressions were different. This is enough to show that their thoughts are not integrated, but like humans, everyone has independent consciousness."

"This consciousness may be the gap where we can insert a needle. I apply for a budget of 100 million US dollars to establish our own intelligence channels among these aliens."

The President was silent for a while. He certainly knew the importance of intelligence, but establishing an interstellar intelligence network was a first for him.

He leaned his whole body back into the chair and rubbed his temples: "Alright, let's do it, but I want to see results as soon as possible."

"No problem!" the CIA Director agreed immediately.

The President turned to the door: "Secret Service, call those ten soldiers in."

The door opened, and the Secret Service agent gestured outside. Neat footsteps came from the corridor.

Ten soldiers filed into the Oval Office. They were wearing camouflage combat uniforms, but their shoulder patches were different, all elites belonging to various units.

The President stood up, walked around the desk to them, his hands behind his back, and looked at them one by one from left to right.

"Do you know why you were called here?"

The ten soldiers answered in unison: "Yes, Mr. President."

"Good, then I don't need to waste my breath. Tomorrow morning at eight, you ten go to the Planet Wuhu store in the interstellar mall. Each of you drink a few bottles of that potion. The government has already negotiated with them."

"What reaction you have after drinking, what you feel, whether it's effective, whether there are side effects—when you come back, report it word for word to your Commander, and then report it word for word to me. Is that clear?"

"Understood, Mr. President!"

"Wait a minute." Cole walked up from behind the President and lowered her voice to say a few words in the President's ear.

After listening, the President turned his head back to face the ten soldiers.

"One more thing. Your Commander has already been chosen. I will choose one person from among you, you, the Ranger, Sergeant Barnes."

"If anyone among you exhibits abnormal behavior during the experiment, Sergeant Barnes has the right to take control measures immediately. In addition, there is a medical team on standby outside the door. If the situation escalates beyond his control, there is also a team of snipers on the roof next door."

"You are soldiers, you know what this means."

Sergeant Barnes saluted: "Understood, Mr. President. Any unauthorized aggressive behavior will be regarded as a hostile act, and I will stop it immediately."

"Very good." The President waved his hand. "Dismissed."

The ten soldiers saluted, turned around, their boots stepping on the marble corridor with a rhythm as neat as a phalanx of infantry walking toward an unknown battlefield.

The conference room screen went dark. The President looked in the direction of New York at night. He understood in his heart that the outcome of this game between their Blue Star and the Planet Wuhu people was never in the hands of the two sides on the chessboard, but in the hands of Chen Mu outside the chessboard.