Sky Pit

The ring collapsed inward, forming a pit-like shape, and at the center of the pit, multicolored radiance composed a faint, plastic-wrap-like "lid" covering the opening.

The commander furrowed his brows deeply. This thing didn't look like any simple natural phenomenon, especially this Sky Pit—it was far too round, unsettlingly round, and its location was too coincidental, right in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

"What is this?"

"We've retrieved satellite imagery. There's a spectral shift in that area."

"A shift?"

"Yes, like light being refracted through a prism, normal light passing through this Sky Pit gets bent into what we're seeing now. The initial light that appeared resembled auroras."

Saying this, the old academic paused, organizing some technical terms into language a layman could understand, then continued: "When solar wind reaches Earth, the high-energy charged particles, under the influence of the planet's magnetic field, travel along magnetic field lines toward the poles, creating a brilliant, beautiful glow—that's how auroras form. But the central Pacific isn't the poles. As for why it's appearing there, the cause is still unclear."

"So, this massive Sky Pit is man-made?" The commander's expression darkened slightly as he asked.

"High probability it's man-made." The old academic gave his assessment. This thing was artificial; he even suspected gravitational waves had fluctuated as well.

Hearing this, the commander fell silent for a moment. Just then, the red phone in front of him rang. The ringtone wasn't particularly loud, but in the entire vast command room, it was piercingly clear.

Ring! Ring!

For a moment, the busy officers couldn't help but look toward the commander, because they all knew very well where the other end of that call was!

The commander shot to his feet, his expression grave as he picked up the receiver and placed it to his ear: "This is Command Headquarters. Please give instructions, Chief!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Understood!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Understood!"

Clack! The commander hung up the dedicated line. No one knew exactly what was said on the other end, but from the commander's reaction, it was clearly something major!

"Order the 001 Carrier Strike Group to enter Level 1 combat readiness. After nearby replenishment, proceed immediately to the designated sea area for reconnaissance and guard duties."

"Dispatch the 002 Carrier Strike Group to—"

"Deploy two Type 055 Destroyers to—"

"Move the 815A to—"

One by one, orders were sent out, and the vast naval forces of the Great East began to mobilize.

While the common people of the Great East were still asleep, phones rang out continuously. For safety reasons, the sea area around the Sky Pit was designated as an "exercise" zone. All Great Eastern vessels and civil aviation were to reroute around the area, especially coastal cities, which also received directives from the central government.

Public security, armed police, special police, coast guard, fire rescue, emergency response, power utilities, water supply, China Mobile, China Unicom, provincial and municipal TV stations—personnel from these state-owned enterprises were roused from their sleep and, in bewilderment, reported to their respective units. Meanwhile, on the roads, police, special police, and armed police moved into key traffic arteries to maintain order.

Such a massive "Sky Pit"—the news was temporarily sealed, unknown to the public. But once dawn broke, it would inevitably be discovered. To prevent chaos, preparations had to be made in advance.

Later, during the morning news broadcast, official announcements would be aired to further calm public sentiment. As the saying goes, blocking is worse than channeling, and channeling is worse than guiding. Official reporting is far more reliable than those unscrupulous self-media outlets.

At the same time, in the Western Pacific, the Carl Vinson Carrier Strike Group, along with the Charles de Gaulle carrier that had joined en route, changed course and headed toward the Sky Pit's waters.

Inside the Pentagon, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff watched the slowly creeping blip on the map—it was the combined fleet of the Carl Vinson Carrier Strike Group and the Charles de Gaulle.

"Sir, rest assured. Our nuclear-powered carrier will be the first to arrive."

Although, purely in terms of combat capability, a nuclear-powered carrier isn't necessarily stronger than a conventional one—especially after the Fujian, sister ship to the Ford, began sea trials, posing a serious challenge to the Ford—nuclear-powered carriers have one advantage conventional ones can't match: high-speed cruising endurance. The Carl Vinson (a Nimitz-class) can sprint at 30-31 knots without needing refueling, while conventional carriers burn through fuel rapidly at such speeds, drastically reducing their range.

But ahead of them, aerial reconnaissance assets took off from both sides of the Pacific, racing toward the Sky Pit at the center of the ocean.

On the long runway, a pair of veteran H-6Ks taxied and lifted off. As speed increased, the pilot pulled back on the stick, and the Six-Master's landing gear left the ground. The two Six-Masters climbed into the sky almost simultaneously.

Under the Six-Master's pylons hung a black, flying-wing-shaped aircraft—the Wuzhen-8!

At a time like this, every second counted. They had to figure out what that Sky Pit in the central Pacific was as fast as possible, and speed was time. The high-altitude, high-speed Wuzhen-8 was perfect for this mission.

When the H-6K reached the predetermined altitude for release, the Wuzhen-8 would fly at hypersonic speed toward the Sky Pit for tactical reconnaissance. According to Command Headquarters' calculations, even though the Carl Vinson Carrier Strike Group was closer to the Sky Pit, the Wuzhen-8 would arrive before them.

However, due to its unique geographic location, the Hawaiian Islands were actually the nearest militarily garrisoned area to the Sky Pit. The first to reach it would be the Global Hawk deployed there.

Soldiers drove a tow truck, pulling the US military's primary reconnaissance drone, the RQ-4, out of the hangar and onto the runway's end. Ground crew began refueling this high-aspect-ratio drone with a 35.4-meter wingspan.

Fully fueled and equipped with the HISAR reconnaissance system, the Global Hawk began its takeoff roll on the runway. When speed was sufficient, the landing gear lifted off, and it climbed to altitude. From there, this unmanned reconnaissance aircraft would fly toward the Sky Pit at 650 km/h, with internal fuel giving it a 25,000-kilometer range—more than enough to scout the Sky Pit thoroughly.

"Sir, we've just received word that Misawa Air Base has also deployed a Global Hawk to that area."

"Hmm?"

The general frowned slightly. After a moment of silence, he said nothing. A few years ago, they had indeed provided Little Japan with three Global Hawks. If they were using them now, there was no reason to stop them. Even if they tried, the other side could just make up some excuse to brush it off.

After all, geopolitically speaking, if something really happened in the Pacific, Japan would be the first to face it head-on, compared to the Great East.

Every time he thought about this, the general felt a toothache, because the US West Coast had no barrier in front of it to shield them from potential disasters.