10: Chapter 10 National State of Emergency

The air in the interrogation room felt as if a layer had been sucked out. Thompson's mouth hung wide open, but no sound came out.

Maya stared intently at the face of President Trump on the television.

Chen Mu leisurely picked up the cup of cola and finished the last drop at the bottom.

"Next," President Trump gripped the podium again, "I will answer questions from the media."

The camera pulled back. At this moment, the forty-nine seats outside were already packed with people, and even more stood in the aisles. Like sharks scenting blood, they scrambled to begin their questioning.

"Let's begin."

President Trump pointed to someone at random.

It was a senior CNN reporter in her fifties with a head full of white hair.

As she stood up, the voice recorder in her hand trembled slightly.

"Mr. President, regarding the images you just showed, has NASA ruled out all other possibilities? For instance, sensor anomalies caused by large-scale solar activity, or..."

"It has been ruled out," President Trump interrupted her. "Our best scientists have verified it repeatedly. This is not a sensor failure, nor is it a natural phenomenon."

He pointed to the next person.

A young, blonde Fox News reporter stood up. "Mr. President, the Pentagon's latest military assessment concludes that once they reach Earth's orbit and launch an attack, all of the Blue Planet's defenses will fail within four hours."

"Can you confirm this conclusion?"

President Trump pressed his fingers against the edge of the podium.

"Confirmed."

When those words landed, everyone present gasped. The entire venue was filled with various cries of shock.

The third person was a thin, gray-haired man from Reuters.

"Mr. President, you mentioned that these ships are 'forming up' at the edge of the Kuiper Belt."

"Has the military deciphered the meaning of this formation? Is it an offensive formation? Or some kind of communication we cannot comprehend?"

"Regarding that, our intelligence systems are currently analyzing it," President Trump's voice was curt. "There is no clear conclusion yet. But we will assume it is hostile until they prove otherwise."

The fourth person was a dark-skinned reporter from ABC News.

"Mr. President, have we attempted to establish communication with them?"

"We have," President Trump said. "But there has been no response."

"Across all bands?"

"All bands. Radio, microwave, laser—someone even suggested using Morse code, but there has been no response at all."

The fifth person was a young, dark-haired NBC reporter; she spoke very quickly.

"Mr. President, does the executive order you are signing tonight include full martial law?"

President Trump looked solemn. "It does. Following this, I will sign an executive order declaring a state of national emergency, effective at midnight tonight, Eastern Time."

"The National Guard will be deployed in all major cities, and critical infrastructure will be placed under military control. Note that this is not a drill, nor is it a test."

The sixth reporter asked, "Mr. President, have you considered that announcing the truth like this will cause national panic?"

For the first time, a hint of raspiness appeared in President Trump's voice.

"I have. That is why I am standing here tonight—not tomorrow, not the day after. Tonight."

He lifted his hands from the podium and spread them helplessly. "Because in forty-eight hours, you will see it for yourselves."

"You won't need the government to tell you. You won't need NASA to tell you. You just need to point your telescope in that direction, and you will see them."

He pulled his hands back and gripped the edge of the podium once more.

"We cannot hide it, and we do not want to. The people of the United States have the right to know the truth. And the truth is... they are here!!!"

The briefing room fell silent for five full seconds. Then, someone in the back row who hadn't been called upon suddenly stood up.

President Trump looked in that direction, his eyes narrowing slightly.

According to the customs of the United States briefing room, only the media in the front rows are called upon for questions. If a reporter in the back row speaks without being called, they are usually escorted out by security.

But tonight, there was no security intervention.

"Mr. President," the reporter's voice was loud, "if all of this is true, and if they really will reach Earth's orbit in three months, what can we do?"

President Trump looked at him and said after a moment of silence, "We will fight until the very last moment."

"Tomorrow, I will convene an emergency assembly at the United Nations Headquarters in New York. I have already issued invitations to the leaders of all member states. After all, this is not just a matter for the United States. It is a matter for the entire Blue Planet."

He addressed everyone in the United States watching the live broadcast.

"May God bless every man, every woman, and every child on this planet, regardless of which country you live in, what language you speak, or what deity you believe in."

"Because in the time to come, we will need all the blessings we can get."

The screen cut back to a static image of the Oval Office.

A line of text scrolled across the bottom of the screen: The President's national address has concluded. The White House confirms an emergency United Nations assembly will be held in New York tomorrow.

In the interrogation room, the television screen was still on, the presidential seal floating quietly against a blue background.

Thompson was completely stunned. His eyes remained fixed on the television screen until it went completely black, like a man who had woken from a nightmare only to find he was still in one.

The next moment, both his and Maya's phones vibrated simultaneously.

A line of white text popped up on the screens against a jarring red background.

WARNING! THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

The President of the United States has declared a state of national emergency. All residents are ordered to return home immediately and stay indoors until further notice. Please stay tuned to local emergency broadcast channels. Repeat: THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

The red background of the phone screen reflected on Thompson's face. He looked up at Chen Mu and saw that Chen Mu was still smiling as if nothing had happened.

Thompson's hand reached for the holster at his waist. He drew his sidearm and pressed it against Chen Mu's forehead, roaring, "What the f*ck are you?!"

Chen Mu didn't move. With the muzzle against his forehead, his posture was like a sculpture placed on a pyre before it was even finished.

Although his expression remained a calm smile, it was the first time he had ever been held at gunpoint, and his heart rate climbed to 115 beats per second.

"Thompson!" Maya's voice rose to a pitch she had never reached before. "Are you crazy? Put the gun down!"

Thompson didn't move. The muzzle was still pressed against Chen Mu's forehead, but it was shaking violently.

As a veteran cop who had shot four armed drug dealers and won shooting excellence awards at the NYPD range for twelve years, he couldn't even hold a Glock 19 steady right now.

Under the influence of Micro-expression Control, Chen Mu looked at Thompson calmly. "Didn't I tell you? I am here to negotiate with the leader of your race."

His gaze passed through the black ring of the muzzle, through Thompson's bloodshot pupils, and through all the certainty and prejudice the old cop had accumulated over his twenty-two-year career.

"You can shoot now, but that will also cause your race to miss its only chance for peace."

"Do you want to try?"

Thompson's index finger rested on the trigger. The trigger pull of a Glock 19 is about two kilograms; he had pulled a trigger countless times with that finger.

Paper targets at the range, drug dealers on the streets of Brooklyn, the madman who charged his partner with a kitchen knife.

Every time, he knew why he was pulling the trigger. Every time, he knew what would happen after the trigger was pulled.

But this time, he didn't know. He didn't know anything.

His hand began to tremble violently, the muzzle tracing irregular circles on Chen Mu's forehead.

Thompson's other hand gripped the gun as well. Both hands held the weapon, just as a recruit is instructed by a drill sergeant during their first time at the range, but the gun still shook.

"Thompson," Maya's voice lowered. She placed her hand on Thompson's arm. "Calm down. Whether he's real or fake, let's report to the Chief first."

Hearing this, Thompson's hands dropped. The muzzle left Chen Mu's forehead, tracing an arc in the air before pointing at the ground.

His voice was heavy, like someone who had just struggled from underwater to the surface. "You're right, Maya. Go report to the Chief quickly. I'll watch him here."

Maya didn't wait for him to say it twice; she turned and rushed out instantly. The door slammed against the frame behind her with a dull thud.

Thompson stood in place, gun still in hand, muzzle pointed at the ground.

He looked at Chen Mu, and Chen Mu looked back at him.

"Why didn't you dodge just now?"

Chen Mu didn't answer.

"Why the f*ck didn't you dodge?!" Thompson's voice rose again. "I had a gun to your head! You didn't even blink! Anyone normal would blink when a gun is pointed at them! What the f*ck are you?!"

Chen Mu looked at him, the expression on his face unchanged. "I have already answered you."

Thompson's lips moved. He wanted to say something, but it felt as if a wad of cotton was stuffed in his throat. In the end, he said nothing.

He holstered his gun, pulled over a chair, and sat down across from Chen Mu.

The two sat across an iron table, just as they had when the interrogation began over ten hours ago, but this time, Thompson's hand was clamped firmly over his holster.