201: Chapter 201 Diplomatic Denial Ignites Security Council Conflict

Douglas Hawthorne, the Lighthouse Country Permanent Representative to the United Nations, this veteran diplomat who had served for over thirty-six years and previously served as the chief representative of the missions of the five permanent member states, gently placed the compilation of proposals pushed over by the previous speaker, which his aide was just about to collect, on the corner of the table.

He crossed his hands on the tabletop, raised his eyes, his gaze gentle yet hollow, and his tone as steady as if he were reading a voice response recorded thousands of times.

"The United States of America thanks the representatives of all member states for their various proposals regarding the Zeta Star fleet issue."

"Regarding the 'Deep State' mentioned by everyone, as well as the so-called advanced civilization technological assistance, the government of the United States of America does not possess relevant information."

"We do not know what the Deep State is, nor do we know what the Longevity Faction and the Tech Faction are."

"We have never received any advanced civilization technological assistance from unknown sources."

"All the above accusations are without factual basis."

Hawthorne gently closed the document in front of him, pushed all the proposals back to the center of the table, and repeated this passage word by word in a slower, calmer, and more impeccable tone than the previous round.

Then, he repeated it once more.

No matter how Representative John pressed him,

no matter how the Russia representative raised the evidence list of Diana casually piercing through several battalion-level defense lines in the military restricted zone near Moscow one by one in front of the camera,

no matter how the India representative repeatedly chanted in a voice close to a roar, "The complete blueprints you got from the Deep State to build the 'Gravity Trap' and 'Protocol Deception Broadcasting Tower' have already been mostly leaked on the market by Prant himself,"

Hawthorne maintained that standard diplomatic smile throughout, remaining as calm as a stagnant lake where people kept throwing stones, yet never stirring up the slightest ripple.

The Russia representative threw another thicker stack of evidence onto the table and abruptly stood up.

His left hand, with joints enlarged by the perennial Siberian cold wind, clenched into a fist and slammed against the edge of the proposal on the table, jarring the agenda folder of the India representative to the side.

"Enough! You guys have had enough!"

"Above the Hoover Dam, two Space Fleet formations have already appeared and engaged in crossfire twice!"

"The first time was an infighting of 100,000 against 100,000 by your own domestic Deep State!"

"The second time was a direct fight between you and two thousand UFOs of the Zeta Star!"

"All these materials exist!"

"And now in the Security Council, in front of the whole world, you say you don't know?"

"Why don't you go jump off this building!"

Hawthorne tilted his head slightly, looking at the Russia representative with eyes honed to be flawless by the diplomatic system, his tone steady as if reading a white paper that would not have a second signature:

"The United States of America maintains its previous position."

"We do not know what the Deep State is."

The Russia representative withdrew his fist from the table and was about to continue roaring when Hawthorne had already crossed his hands on the tabletop again and continued speaking, his tone calm to the point of being nearly mechanical:

"We do not know what the Longevity Faction is."

"We do not know what the Tech Faction is."

"We have never received any advanced civilization technological assistance from unknown sources."

"All the above accusations are without factual basis."

No matter how others pressured him,

no matter how anyone sitting behind this circular conference table joined forces to apply pressure, presented more evidence, and escalated their tone from entreaty to warning, and then to an ultimatum bordering on a falling-out,

Douglas Hawthorne remained seated upright in his position, repeating round after round those responses he had already silently recited from beginning to end countless times, with the same steady frequency bordering on mechanical.

What others did not know was that Hawthorne was clearer than anyone else about the heavy truth behind every single word in his mouth.

Lord Zhang Long of the Longevity Faction had explicitly issued an order:

It is forbidden to reveal the existence of the Deep State to the outside world.

He had once personally entered that sub-space floating city constructed by correct spacetime along with Biden,

seen the energy core of the levitating rail with his own eyes,

and heard Biden give earnest personal instructions right in front of Zhang Long.

That was a true advanced civilization, possessing absolute power that crushed humanity's technological level!

And as for what the consequence of defying the Longevity Faction's orders would be, it went without saying.

Therefore, for Hawthorne, let alone this level of verbal pressure, joint pressure, and displaying of evidence, even if a blade were held to his neck, he would only say he did not know.

Therefore, he could only say he did not know, and must say he did not know.

Virginia, Shenandoah Valley, Federal Supreme Command Center.

This secret facility, transformed from the Federal Emergency Management Agency's backup command center, had now been officially renamed the "Federal Supreme Command Center", with authority equivalent to the White House.

To evade the all-spacetime monitoring capability of the Zeta Star vanguard intelligence device "Yuanzi",

all routine work and confidential meetings of Washington's top officials were completely transferred here.

In the conference room embedded deep within the granite mountain, the four walls were lined with electromagnetic shielding copper mesh and multi-layered wave-absorbing materials, and the ventilation ducts were equipped with ultrasonic jammers. Any form of eavesdropping would completely fail here.

At this moment, in an oval conference room named "Sunrise",

President Joseph Biden sat at the head of the conference table, his hands crossed on the tabletop, with several latest briefings freshly and synchronously delivered from the Department of Defense and the intelligence system spread out in front of him.

Vice President Kamala Harris sat to his left,

Minister of Defense Lawrence Graves and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Mark Milley sat on the right side respectively.

National Security Council Chairperson Evelyn Strauss, Secretary of State Victoria Monroe, Madeline Rasmussen, National Security Advisor Ronald Sawyer, and Director of Intelligence Alan Holt were all present.

In front of everyone lay the exact same document:

A detailed observation report of the Three-Body Star System being instantly crushed into a singularity by a Black Hole Bomb from the Zeta Star's million-strong fleet.

Biden picked up the cup of cold black coffee in front of him, took a sip, put the cup back on the tabletop, and said in a tone steady to the point of being casual:

"Everyone present has already seen the news of Trisolaris being destroyed."

"Five light-years away from the Solar System, the Zeta Star million-strong fleet used one of the most inconspicuous attack UFOs to launch a Black Hole Bomb, completely erasing a Level 2 civilization from this universe within a few seconds."

"They are currently advancing toward the Solar System at maximum transition speed, and are expected to reach Neptune's orbit in less than three months."

He gently pushed the observation report half an inch to the side, crossed his hands on the table again, and his gaze swept across every face present,

"But for us, this is no big deal."

His tone was like stating a physical constant that had been repeatedly verified countless times.

"The Gravity Trap Project has been fully deployed."

"Eight gravity well generators have been installed at eight coordinate points outside Neptune's orbit, and the regular octahedron grid has formed."

"The formula for superconducting materials, the extraction of osmium isotopes, the deployment of centrifuges—every single link has been precisely landed according to the engineering blueprints given by the Longevity Faction."

"As long as the Grey Aliens' million-strong fleet enters the Solar System, the gravitational fields will superimpose simultaneously from eight directions, instantly raising the gravitational constant by three thousand times. They won't even be able to push their engines, let alone launch weapons."

He untied his crossed hands, picked up the coffee cup and took another sip. His tone remained steady, but every word carried a heavier certainty:

"They blew up Trisolaris five light-years away, and they did it in a place without a Gravity Trap."

"When they arrive in the Solar System, what awaits them will not be the launch button of a Black Hole Bomb, but the gravity coffin we paved for them."

No one in the conference room retorted.

Mark Milley nodded slightly.

Graves exchanged a brief, unspoken glance with him.

Ever since Diana first pushed that engineering blueprint onto this table, the Gravity Trap Project had been repeatedly deduced, cross-verified, and implemented layer by layer.

Every coordinate, every parameter, and the load-bearing capacity of every material had undergone countless simulations.

This months-long massive military engineering project had been completed,

and the Zeta Star's million-strong fleet was still in the void at this moment, unknowingly accelerating toward this gravitational cage.

Biden put the coffee cup back on the tabletop, his tone suddenly sinking, switching from the previous calmness and certainty to a clear irritability.

"So what really gives me a headache now is not the Grey Aliens' million-strong fleet at all."

"It is Prant."

He reached out, opened another document marked with "Domestic Public Opinion Summary" in front of him, and tapped gently with his finger on a few highlighted lines of data,

"Prant's leaks are escalating every single day."

"Aliens, technological assistance, Solomon's Crane Family... he has said everything he could say."

"He doesn't directly mention the four words 'Deep State', but he uses other ways to dismantle all related intelligence and throw it out."

"Now, the online public opinion is cursing us everywhere, saying that I am blocking news, deceiving the public, and doing nothing in the face of alien threats."

"And what about Prant?"

"He is a hero, a warrior exposing the truth, a fighter seeking justice for all mankind."

"Some people even publicly organized crowdfunding on social media to raise security funds for him because they were worried he would be shot again."

Biden closed the document, pushed it aside, crossed his hands on the tabletop again, and his gaze swept across everyone present.

"The Longevity Faction has issued a ban on us, forbidding us from revealing the existence of the Deep State to the outside world, not even a single word."

"But the Tech Faction doesn't seem to have issued the same ban to Prant."

"The more he says, the more passive our side becomes."

"Every time he leaks a new piece of news, we endure another round of scolding."

"In a few days, if he also leaks the origin of the floating combat boots he wore at his campaign rally, then we won't even be able to respond."

"Because the Longevity Faction does not allow us to respond."