A3-01 The Swordholder's First Day

You sit in the Swordholder's chamber.

The room is smaller than you imagined — about twenty square meters, five hundred meters underground. Four gray walls, a plain table, a chair. On the table is the button — red, covered by a transparent flip-cap shield. A row of screens lines the wall, displaying real-time positions of the Trisolaran probes (droplets) in Earth orbit, the status of the gravitational wave antennas, and other data you haven't yet had time to comprehend.

You assumed the Swordholder's authority just ten minutes ago.

You haven't even warmed the chair.

Then —

Every screen turns red simultaneously.

A cold AI voice fills the room:

"Warning. Anomalous acceleration detected in Trisolaran probes. Six droplets are approaching Earth at maximum thrust. Projected strike targets: gravitational wave antennas in North America, Europe, and Asia. Estimated time of arrival: fifteen minutes."

Your blood freezes.

The screens switch to a real-time tactical map of the solar system. Six blue points — the droplets — are accelerating from their respective orbital positions, trailing long trajectory lines that converge on three points on Earth.

The Trisolarans have attacked.

Just ten minutes into your watch.

Wade was right — they were waiting for this moment. Waiting for someone they were certain would not press the button to sit in this chair.

Your mind races:

If you press the button — the gravitational wave antennas will broadcast the coordinates of Earth and the Trisolaran system to the universe. Other civilizations will launch "cleansing strikes" against both exposed positions. Earth and the Trisolaran world will both be destroyed. Mutual annihilation. If you don't press — the droplets will reach and destroy all gravitational wave antennas within fifteen minutes. Once the antennas are destroyed, the button becomes useless — you'll want to press it and won't be able to. The deterrence system collapses. The Trisolarans will invade Earth unopposed. You have fifteen minutes.

But in reality, considering that the antennas may be locked on for attack before the droplets arrive, your actual decision window may be only a few minutes.

Your hand hovers above the button.

Two images flash simultaneously through your mind:

Image one: If you press it — gravitational waves tear through space, coordinates broadcast into the cosmic deep. Someday in the future, a photoid, a two-dimensional foil, or some weapon beyond imagination will descend upon Earth and the Trisolaran system. Billions of humans, billions of Trisolarans, all dead. Including you. Including everyone you've ever known. Image two: If you don't press — the droplets destroy the antennas. The Trisolaran Fleet descends on Earth. Humanity is conquered, enslaved, possibly exterminated. But at least — at least the Trisolarans might preserve some humans. Is slavery better than extinction? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Your finger hovers one centimeter above the button.

The flip cap is already open. The button's surface carries a faint warmth — probably from Luo Ji's finger resting on it for sixty-two years.

You feel the temperature he left behind.

The countdown flashes before your eyes.

Twelve minutes.