007 San Francisco Incident (Part 1)

The early morning light bathed the university campus in California, where the agreeable climate still allowed for some youthful and attractive female students to parade around in short skirts and shorts, vying to outshine one another. This place has always been one to showcase individuality and exuberant youth; compared to college students in China who may be more mature and socialized, American students seemed more naïve, and to put it less kindly, more clueless and dumber.

In the small classroom, the Indian-origin professor glanced at the clock on the wall and then told the students in perfect American English, devoid of any Indian accent, "Let's wrap it up for today. Remember, your final paper is due on the 12th of next month. If you have any questions, you know my office hours and where to find me. That's it."

Bai Zhongqi slowly packed his laptop into his backpack as his classmates exchanged brief greetings before heading their separate ways. Being mostly older graduate students, perhaps influenced by the prevalent individualism, the camaraderie among college mates in the United States was not as close as in China.

Class ended early today, and Bai Zhongqi felt a bit sleep-deprived, listless. Slung over one shoulder, he carried his backpack, and as he looked at the decent weather, the sunshine casting a glow on his fair face, he couldn't help but sigh; another semester was nearly over. Time was flying, and soon he would complete his degree.

Feeling an unacknowledged fear about job hunting and entering society, Bai Zhongqi decided to continue his education. People have this issue; they get accustomed to what they know and are familiar with, and fear major change. Bai had always been good at academics, so pursuing a PhD wouldn't be difficult for him. What made him slightly guilty was the damn expensive cost of higher education in America, with every undergraduate carrying an average student loan debt of $34,000 when entering the job market. And tuition fees for international students were even higher, with only families well above middle class able to afford to send their kids abroad. Bai felt uneasy spending his parents' money and tried to be frugal.

He had envied those wealthier Chinese students who would travel to places like Las Vegas or the Bahamas now and then, driving luxury cars and effortlessly picking up girls. But Bai knew that, envy aside, he probably wouldn't be so extravagant; after all, he was a fairly mature man. He also knew that the type of girl he liked couldn't be swayed by material things.

Just as he stepped out of the academic building, Bai heard someone calling him.

"Senior, finished with class?"

Bai Zhongqi focused his eyes and saw Han Jiaxue, carrying a small, chic Chloé bag, dressed in a simple and tidy outfit, with her hair tied in a ponytail, cheerfully ascending the stairs.

Seeing the girl he liked, Bai's heart couldn't help but race a bit faster. He nodded at Han Jiaxue, "Yeah, just finished class. Are you heading to yours?"

Han Jiaxue made a cute expression of complaint, "Yeah, I have six hours of classes straight, I don't even have time for lunch."

Bai was dumbstruck and could only respond with a monosyllabic grunt.

Seeing his dull reaction, Han Jiaxue felt a bit helpless. She had heard this senior was quite capable, even helping many juniors with their studies, earning a good reputation. He was also the clean-cut, proper sort. But he was just too tactless, at least that's what she thought.

Han Jiaxue waved to him and stepped through the entrance of the teaching building. Bai turned to watch her figure disappearing through the door, her slender and graceful silhouette igniting a fiery passion within him. As the image of his dream girl vanished, a sense of loss enveloped Bai.

This frustrated him immensely; normally, Bai was quite a generous guy. He was witty in conversations with friends and confident and insightful in academic discussions with classmates, but in matters of the heart, his performance was embarrassingly lacking.

Shaking his head to expel these vexing emotions, Bai decided to catch the bus home.

At that moment, he heard a commotion among a crowd not too far away.

"Oh my God, what is that?!"

Before Bai could even figure out what was happening, a loud boom rang out and a dark red spacecraft with a sci-fi metallic feel zipped across the sky overhead. Every neck craned to follow the mysterious aircraft cutting through the sky with an eerie glow.

The next instant, two F-22 stealth fighters, familiar to many, soared across the sky, chasing closely behind the mysterious aircraft.

The three aircraft sped along at tremendous velocity, flying at an extremely low altitude. Especially noisy were the F-22s' F119 engines, which resonated throughout the entire neighborhood.

Like everyone else, Bai's heart was gripped by intense panic. Even if combat jets were to engage in a close chase at low altitudes over a city of millions, it would be astonishing enough. And now, two F-22 Raptors, the pride of American technology and military industry, specifically legislated by Congress to prevent their export, were pursuing something that absolutely did not seem to be of this Earth.

The larger aircraft, much bigger than the F-22s, displayed an incredible degree of agility, performing speed changes, rolls, and tight-radius turns without breaking the sound barrier. Both F-22s were futile in their attempts to get close.

The most crucial aspect was its shape. Although the overall form of the flying object still bore some resemblance to winged aircraft, with a central cockpit and fuselage, its cockpit and fuselage were integrated seamlessly, with no discernible boundaries, which made one suspect if it were an unmanned drone. Its pair of wings curled downward, resembling the design of a Trisolaran ship. To human understanding, such aerodynamic shaping would be incapable of generating sufficient lift. Furthermore, people could not see any jet engines ejecting hot gases outward; the propulsion principles of this craft were beyond human comprehension.

Only when it made extreme maneuvers, such as sharp turns beyond common sense, could one see that the craft seemed enveloped in a bubble-like layer on the outside. This shape was not spherical but flattened; anyone with some knowledge of aerodynamics could tell it was a lifting body with a strong lift effect.

Bai Zhongqi almost immediately realized upon seeing the aircraft that it was definitely not something humanity could create at the current stage—it was a creation from an extraterrestrial world!

The cool alien fighter jet and Earth's top aerial combat weapons were performing an unparalleled spectacle for the onlookers below. Students from the USF were excited, whipping out their smartphones to shoot at the sky nonstop, quickly turning the area into a sea of mobile phones.

While most people were enjoying the show, Bai Zhongqi felt a tremendous sense of crisis. No matter where this mysterious craft had come from, it could be very dangerous. Although it hadn't shown any aggression yet, Bai Zhongqi sensed that the F-22s would be unable to contend with this mysterious aircraft; should a real conflict arise, the F-22s would surely be the ones to fall, and an aerial battle over such a bustling metropolitan area would inevitably result in collateral damage.

Bai Zhongqi had no desire to become a casualty.

Thus, he planned to escape far away to avoid any potential danger.

——Switch Scene——

"Raptor-1, do not engage lightly, I repeat, do not engage lightly."

Frazer, piloting the F-22, was tense all over. Nearly every cell in his body was straining as he shouted into the microphone of his flight helmet: "Control Tower, I confirm the command. But, even if we wanted to take down this unidentified flying object, we couldn't do it—there's not a single signal of this thing on radar!"

There seemed to be a small stir in the control tower, and they radioed back to ask: "Are you certain it's not interference from ground clutter due to the complex terrain?"

Frazer responded: "Impossible, this thing doesn't reflect any radar waves at all. Even if it were to climb to high altitude, we still wouldn't be able to detect anything."

It wasn't only the F-22's passive phased array radar that couldn't detect the mysterious craft; the ground-based radars were equally blind. Initially, the United States Air Force thought the aircraft was flying too low and was heavily affected by ground clutter, plus the curvature of the Earth was hindering visibility. But now, since even the F-22s confirmed radar detection was impossible, the craft most likely had stealth capabilities exceeding those of the Raptors.

The thought was terrifying: Raptor jets pursuing the craft within visual range could not see it on radar, like clearly seeing a person who was absent in the mirror's reflection—devilishly baffling.

The two F-22 pilots, highly focused, also had no time to deal with the control tower's situation. In the tower itself, the high ranks at Edwards Air Force Base were in disarray.

Colonel Harris cursed, "If this were a Russian jet, we'd have brought it down by now."

Commodore Connell said seriously, "The Russian fighters wouldn't dare fly so freely over San Francisco. What we're dealing with now is an unknown enemy."

The door to the command center opened, and a high-level intelligence officer from the Pentagon hurried in, clutching a document bag. He approached Commodore Connell and said, "General, this is secret intelligence from the Pentagon. Please come to the office with me. You and your officers need to sign a confidentiality agreement before you're allowed to know the intelligence."

Harris grumbled discontentedly, "At a time like this, they still have to do this."

Connell, however, remained much calmer. He nodded his head and followed several important military officers and staff into the command center's office. The Pentagon intelligence officer's assistant lowered the blinds, then handed out the confidentiality agreements and pens to everyone present.

Connell didn't even read the paper; he just swiftly signed his name on it.

The intelligence officer quickly gathered the signed confidentiality agreements. Then his assistant connected the projector while the officer plugged a USB drive into the computer. The screen lit up with images.

"19 hours ago, NASA's solar observation satellite on its near-Sun orbit detected an Interstellar Fleet that might come from an extraterrestrial civilization..."