Colonel Casferro and his colleagues gathered at the Pentagon and determined that the behemoth was in a fixed position, perched less than five hundred kilometers behind the moon. When the moon moves, it moves with it, using the moon as a shield to block the view of Earthlings. After repositioning the three satellites, the U.S. Space Command can see the thing more clearly. Three cameras transmitted images of the object back to Earth, which is now under close surveillance. "Colonel!" A soldier shouted. "You'd better come and see this!" Casferro flew over and saw a composite infrared photograph. Something was changing beneath the behemoth. "The elephant is exploding." Casferro observed and said, "It's more like a mushroom scattering its robe." The person on the screen said. Large chunks of scattered objects are breaking away from the mother body, spinning and flying into the near air. After a few minutes, the debris formed a circle. Only then did Casferro and the others realize what they were seeing. It was time to call General Grey, who had crossed the Potomac River to the White House. Cornie tried to squeeze through the side door of her office, but couldn't. A group of colleagues plus a dozen White House attendants were cluttering the hallway, and she was pushed around as soon as she stepped out. The notepad in each of their hands was full of urgent questions. Throughout the morning, the telephones became like boiling teapots, ringing loud and non-stop: parliamentarians, foreign ambassadors, queens and kings, Whitemer's family and important business figures who could normally speak directly to the president. No one knows how to answer these people, and every caller has something important on hand. Cornie knew people wanted answers, but she didn't have time to talk to them. She was five minutes late for the president's regular meeting, which had never happened before. She had been doing this job for a long time and knew how to deal with such occasions. With a charming smile on her face, she ignored anyone and walked straight through the crowd. Her first deputy supervisor, Fran Jeffrey, saw her, stepped in front of her, and said urgently: "CNN said they are going to broadcast the news that the United States is going to conduct a nuclear test in outer space, unless you call now to deny it." Connion shrugged, "If they're not afraid of falling into a trap, listen to them." Everyone shouted out their own problems to her. "NATO was spinning around behind my ass all morning," complained a sleepy assistant. "Can you read their manifesto? Very short, agree on the line. "Our official position is," she told him, "that we don't have an official position." Constance was still smiling and looking directly at the portrait of Thomas Jefferson hanging at the end of the corridor. When she got there, to her surprise, turned left and didn't take the stairs, where more people had more questions waiting for her. She pulled the button on the old elevator, which had been specially installed for Franklin Roosevelt. Senior Agent Jill Rhode saw that she was about to escape. He cried out in a loud voice, "Connee, what happened?" She pretended to be hurt by the question, "Well, I want to know something, I won't keep it secret from you." The door closed just right at this time. In the Oval Office, the president has announced a meeting. Beside him sat Chief of Staff Geman Barnes, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Gray and Secretary of Defense Albert Nimziki. For a variety of different reasons, Whitemer trusted each of them. "But I want to draw attention," Gray said halfway, "that our satellites have been reliable so far." Whether the object wants to enter Earth's atmosphere is unclear. But the odds of it not getting any closer are still high. For example, it doesn't want to try our Earth's gravity. "That's right, Mr. President," Nimziki said approvingly, "as the Commander-in-Chief said, this thing will pass." But it is our responsibility to prepare for the worst. Without any prompting, we must assume that the object is hostile. I strongly ask you to adjust the targeting of several ICBMs and take a preemptive strike. Nimziki was tall, thin, in his sixties, nicknamed "Iron Buttocks." He was a miracle in Washington, the government changed like water, but his position was unstable and he sat very steadily. Whitemer is his fourth president, the second Democratic president. He wasn't a likable man, but when he spoke, everyone had to listen. A few years ago, the Post wrote: "No one has accumulated more power than Edgar Hoover and never cared about the election." Although he was an authentic political animal, Nimziki always wanted to show a transcendent attitude above politics. He never lets people see that he is behind the scenes. To put it bluntly, he is political and can do whatever it takes. His advice is purely cut first and played later, and this is exactly what all of you here try to avoid. "I'm sorry." Gray interjected, "Since we don't have any materials at hand, blind firing may be a big mistake." If we don't succeed, we'll anger them; or, if we succeed, one danger will become multiple. I agree with what Nimziki said about reorienting the missiles and being prepared, but—" Constance walked in and saw so many senior officials, and she shuddered. "Nothing, right?" Whitemer asked her, beckoning her to join the discussion. "How are people reacting?" "Hello gentlemen." She nodded in greeting, and nimziki sat down. "The press has made up its own story about it. CNN threatened to make the truth about our nuclear experiments public. I have arranged for an answer to a reporter's question to be held at six o'clock, and it will calm them down, fortunately, no one is alarmed, and the situation is not serious. Nimziki, impatient with being interrupted, said to Gray over the table, "Will, I think you should contact Atlantic Command." Let the Third Fleet get into action. Others immediately pointed out that this was a very immature idea. The majority of opinion is that it is wrong to sound the alarm and create panic before the object of confrontation is clear. Nimziki tried to defend himself, but was finally persuaded. Chief of Staff Barnes said: "Moreover, with two days to go until Independence Day on the fourth of July, fifty percent of the troops are on the weekend. Not to mention the military parade of all the officers in Washington on Sunday. The quickest way to recruit personnel back to the base is through television and radio. "Exactly." Constance said. The door opened again, and General Gray's liaison officer in charge of contact with the Pentagon came in with a bomb casing. "The latest findings suggest that the object has receded into a stationary orbit, located on the far side of the moon, and cannot be directly observed." "It sounds like it wants to hide." Gray said. "It sounds like good news at the moment," Barnes said hopefully. "Maybe it wants to observe us." Gray's liaison had something to say, "I'm sorry, there's more." At 10:53 a.m. local time, the object established a new orbit, and at 11:01 a.m. the debris on the object began to detach from the main body. "Fragments?" Huai Zhi asked silently, and he didn't like the word very much. "Yes, sir, it's a fragment." The man continued. "We estimate that there are thirty-six fragments, which at all look like saucers. Much smaller than the main body, each still has about fifteen miles in diameter. "Is the direction of motion the Earth?" Whitemer asked, apparently having the answer in mind. "Looks like yes, sir. If they operate in their current orbit, Space Command estimates that within twenty-five minutes, they will begin to enter the atmosphere. The president stared at the young man in the Air Force uniform and froze. For a moment he felt that it was like a joke that someone else had made with him, a well-planned prank to see how he reacted at this point. However, this heavy fact made him sober up a little. What was ridiculous and impossible hours ago is about to become a terrible reality. The fear buried deep in human beings' hearts began to stretch their legs. The Earth's Journey will be visited by something from another world, or invaded. Nimziki broke the silence: "Probably the enemy's thirty-six spaceships are coming towards Earth, Mr. President, like it or not, we must activate the Third Fleet." Even if panic is created, we must bring back troops into a state of readiness. No one in the room objected.