A3-03 After the Broadcast

The first hour after the broadcast.

The world hasn't yet grasped what has happened. The gravitational waves travel at light speed — by now, they have already passed Jupiter's orbit and are racing outward beyond the solar system.

But on Earth, the news spreads like wildfire.

"The Swordholder pressed the button."

Every channel, every network, every communication link — all swallowed by this single piece of news.

You stand in the United Nations Emergency Command Center, facing a room full of ashen-faced officials and military commanders. No one speaks to you. They look at you the way one looks at someone who has pressed a nuclear launch button — a mix of fear, shock, and a scrutiny you cannot bear.

A general breaks the silence: "We need an assessment — when can we expect the cleansing strike?"

The scientific advisor's answer silences everyone: "Impossible to predict. It depends on which civilization receives the signal first, and their technological level and decision-making speed. It could be years, decades, or a century. But — it will come."

"Is there any possibility of defense?"

"Unknown. We don't even know what form the strike will take. A photoid? A two-dimensional foil? A dimensional attack? An energy beam? The weapons of advanced civilizations in the universe may be beyond anything we can imagine."

Silence.

Then someone asks the question everyone is thinking but no one dares to voice:

"What about the Trisolarans? What is their response?"

The screens switch to monitoring data from beyond the solar system. The Trisolaran Fleet — that massive armada heading toward Earth — is decelerating.

Not stopping. Turning around.

The Trisolarans are retreating.

They too have received the broadcast — of course, they understand better than anyone what it means. Their homeworld is now exposed as well. They face a choice: continue attacking Earth (an equally exposed target), or return to save their own world?

The answer quickly becomes clear: the Trisolaran Fleet begins to fracture. Some ships continue toward Earth — out of inertia, perhaps also out of rage. Others turn back toward the Trisolaran system. A small contingent breaks formation entirely, heading in an uncertain direction — fleeing.

Trisolaran civilization is splintering from within.

You stand in a corner of the command center, watching it all unfold.

You have done something irreversible. You have pushed both Earth's and Trisolaris's fates toward the abyss. But — at least — the Trisolarans will no longer invade Earth as planned. They have their own survival to worry about.

Does this count as... success?

An assistant approaches and says quietly: "Ms. Cheng Xin, the people outside — they want an explanation."

Through the window, you see the distant city. The floating buildings still glow brightly, but you know that beneath those lights, billions of people are waiting in fear.

They chose you to protect them. The way you protected them — was to sentence them to death.

Perhaps not immediate execution. But execution all the same.