Apostolic Journey

[Ascendancy]

1:00 pm

Moscow had ceased to resemble a city.

Nikolai stood in the upper gallery of the Ivan the Great Bell Tower, a hand resting against the cold stone as the storm tore through the Kremlin. Snow blew through the open arches and across the ancient floor, catching in the folds of his coat and collecting along the stone beneath his shoes. The wind howled through the bell chamber above and around him, turning the tower into something that felt less like an observation post and more like a ship caught in a white sea.

Below, the Kremlin was already disappearing.

Beyond its walls, Moscow had become an indistinct expanse of white. Familiar towers had vanished. Streets had ceased to exist. Apartment buildings stood buried to higher floors, some with only upper windows visible above the snow.

Nikolai had watched earthquakes turn cities into ruins. He had seen fire consume buildings that had stood for centuries. He had watched governments fall and borders change and people who believed themselves invincible discover otherwise.

This was different. There was no enemy. Nothing to strike back against. Nothing to defend. No army to mobilize against it.

The snow simply kept falling.

His Deputy-Consul Chief of Staff stood several paces away, huddled in the stairwell door, one hand pressed against the earpiece through which the Kremlin's communications network was feeding him reports. A Barrier Praetor officer held the stairwell door and watched closely. The senior meteorologist had come up with them, though he seemed increasingly uncomfortable being exposed to the elements.

"How much?" Nikolai asked.

The meteorologist checked the data on the tablet in his hand. The wind was howling so loud, he had to lean in and raise his voice to be heard.

"At least nine meters in the central districts."

Nikolai looked toward him.

"At least?"

"We've lost reliable measurements in several locations. Instruments are buried or no longer transmitting. Based on the readings, twenty meters is possible in the surrounding region."

Twenty meters.

Nikolai turned back toward the city. A building he knew well had been visible a few hours ago. Now it was gone. Only a rounded white rise marked where it had stood.

"How did we get here?"

The meteorologist hesitated.

"The storm intensified beyond every model."

"That's not what I asked."

The man glanced down at his tablet.

"Two days ago, the forecast called for a severe winter storm. Twenty to thirty centimeters. Yesterday, the projections increased to over a meter in some districts. Then three meters. After that..." He swallowed. "The models stopped being useful."

Nikolai's eyes remained fixed on Moscow.

The meteorologist continued, almost defensively. "We've checked the Arctic systems, upper-atmosphere conditions, pressure gradients, moisture content, solar activity, industrial emissions. Everything. There isn't a combination of variables that produces this."

"And yet it is happening."

"Yes."

"Why?"

The meteorologist looked toward the storm.

"I don't know."

Nikolai waited. The man finally said, "It is snowing because it is snowing."

For several seconds, the only answer was the roar of the wind.

Victor, his chief of staff hurried from the door to gather his attention.

"A collapse in the northeast district. Multiple structures. Emergency services cannot reach them."

"How many?" Nikolai asked.

"We don't know."

"Find out."

"We're trying."

"Try faster."

Victor hurried back to the stairwell to relay the order out of the wind.

A minute later, another report followed.

Power instability. Then a hospital running on emergency generation. Then a communications relay that had gone dark. Then a district where the snow had risen high enough to bury the lower floors of residential buildings. People would be trapped inside. Carbon monoxide could become a danger. 

The reports continued.

Nikolai listened without moving. The Kremlin had survived invasions, revolutions, fires and wars. Its walls had stood while dynasties rose and disappeared. Now the city beyond those walls was being buried in a matter of hours.

He looked down at the snow swirling around their feet. The highest structure in the Kremlin was over 80 meters off the ground, but the snow churned around their legs then was swept away by the wind before it could accumulate.

"How much longer?"

The meteorologist didn't pretend to misunderstand.

"The heavy snowfall?"

"Yes."

"We can't say."

Nikolai looked at him. "You can't predict when it will stop?"

"No."

"Can you predict where it will intensify?"

"No."

"Can you explain the behavior?"

"No."

Nikolai nodded once.

"Then you have nothing useful to tell me."

The meteorologist lowered his eyes. Nikolai turned back toward the city. He could feel something building inside him.

Anger. This was his city.

His government had systems for almost every catastrophe modern civilization could imagine. War. Terrorism. Infrastructure failure. Nuclear accidents. Pandemic. Civil unrest. They had contingency plans for all of it. There was no plan for this. For weather of this magnitude.

Nikolai stepped closer to the open arch. The wind struck him hard enough that the Barrier officer instinctively moved closer.

"Stay there." 

The officer stopped.

Nikolai placed his bare hand against the stone rail. Cold bit into his palm just as the snow pelted his face. He closed his eyes, and wrenched enough power into his grasp that time seemed to stand utterly still. And with that power, he reached outward with it. The storm stopped.

Snow hung motionless in the air around the Kremlin. Every flake seemed suspended against the gray sky. The wind froze on its own trails through the air. The silence was so complete that Nikolai could hear the faint breathing of the people behind him. His eyes opened.

Beyond the Kremlin walls, the storm continued to rage across Moscow. But here, around the ancient fortress, there was nothing. No falling snow. No wind. Only stillness.

The meteorologist gasped, but Nikolai pushed harder. For one brief moment, the suspended snow began to tremble. Then a single flake fell. Another followed. The wind returned, and the snow came with it. Within seconds the storm was screaming through the arches again.

Nikolai withdrew his hand, closing his wet palm into a fist. Those who witnessed the failed attempt to intervene said nothing. Nikolai looked out over Moscow. Whatever this was, it was too large to simply command. That realization angered him almost more than the storm itself.

He turned toward the stairwell.

"KSOC. Now."

They descended.

1:45 pm - KSOC

The Kremlin Strategic Operations Center occupied a secure complex beneath the Kremlin, far removed from the historical bell tower above. The transition was almost jarring as the old Kremlin gave way to the future.

The doors opened into a vast command center whose walls were not really walls at all, but continuous displays. Moscow existed across them in layers of living information. Satellite imagery, aerial drones, atmospheric modeling, military deployments, infrastructure maps, structural sensors and emergency-service feeds all moved simultaneously across the room.

Every available source of information flowed into the KSOC and was integrated into a single constantly changing representation of the city. A three-dimensional model of Moscow occupied the center of the chamber. Snow depth shifted district by district in real time. Buildings changed color according to structural risk. Power failures spread across the grid. Transportation networks disappeared as systems were shut down. Emergency calls appeared as points of light, clustering more densely with every passing minute. The system continuously generated evacuation routes, then discarded them when the routes became impassable.

Representatives from the Custody of Defense stood alongside members of the military Collective. Intelligence officers occupied one section of the chamber. Emergency management officials worked beside infrastructure and energy specialists. Communications personnel monitored national networks while scientific advisers watched the atmospheric data.

They had all been brought together because no single institution possessed enough information to understand what was happening. That was KSOC’s purpose. Intelligence and strategic defense in real time.

When Nikolai entered, the room changed.

People rose.

"Sit."

They did.

One of the members of the Collective stepped forward, the Commissioner-General of the CCD Police.

"Ascendancy."

"Commissioner. What do we know?"

The briefing began.

"Moscow is entering full emergency conditions. The metro network is being sealed. Rail service is suspended. Airports are closed. Road traffic restrictions are expanding."

"Casualties?"

"We don't have a reliable number."

"Estimate."

"Thousands are potentially trapped. Sir, maybe millions before this is over. Confirmed structural collapses have occurred across multiple districts. The number is increasing."

"Heating?" Nikolai called out.

An infrastructure official answered.

"Still operational in most districts, but the grid is under increasing stress." 

"Then conserve it."

The man nodded.

"Prioritize hospitals, emergency shelters, communications, water distribution and residential heating. Everything else is secondary."

A military representative stepped forward.

"We need additional engineering units."

"You have them."

"Tracking vehicles?"

"Every available vehicle capable of operating in this."

"Aviation?"

Nikolai looked at the storm consuming the city on the central display. "No. Ground operations first. I don't want aircraft lost trying to prove they can fly through that."

The representative nodded.

"Excavation equipment?"

"Everything."

A civil-defense official spoke.

"The roads are already completely inaccessible."

"Forget the roads." Nikolai pointed toward the city.

"Dig corridors where people are trapped. We don't need roads. We need passageways." 

Even if the passageways went nowhere, fresh air could circulate and escape routes from buildings under collapse danger could be opened. Orders went out. Across the KSOC, the displays changed as the response expanded. Military units were mobilized, shelters were opened - above and below ground shelters - assuming entrances below ground were even accessible.

Hospitals initiated emergency protocols. Power distribution was reorganized. Autonomous drones capable of flight in the wind were redirected toward collapsed structures. Communications networks shifted to emergency priority. The machinery of the CCD began moving, and Nikolai watched. For a moment, the technology was almost reassuring.

This was what humanity had built. Sensors capable of seeing through weather. Satellites mapping entire continents. Autonomous systems capable of coordinating thousands of emergency personnel. Predictive models that could calculate the failure of a power grid before the first transformer went dark.

Surely something here could explain what was happening.

"Show me the atmospheric model."

The central display changed.

The storm appeared as a vast rotating system surrounding Moscow.

Data streamed across it. Pressure. Temperature. Moisture. Wind. Precipitation. The system attempted to model its movement. The projection flickered.

"Run it again." The system did, but the prediction changed.

"Again." And it changed again.

The meteorologist stared at the display.

"The model is unstable."

"Why?"

"It isn't predicting the storm."

Nikolai turned toward him.

"What is it doing?"

The man looked at the impossible weather system filling the room.

"It’s only able to describe current conditions."

An unsettling silence settled over the KSOC as workers watched his reaction.

Nikolai looked back at Moscow before his gaze flickered toward Karim al’Shaidis, the unofficial leader of the Dominions when Vellas was deployed. A channeler? The thought came unbidden. There were people in this world capable of things that had once been considered impossible. He knew that better than anyone.  If one of them had caused this...

Who? How? Why?

His gaze moved across the displays, searching for something the machines could not find.

Victor approached.

"The summit?"

Nikolai turned.

"The Pope and the Luminar are still in the Kremlin.”

For a moment, Nikolai saw the throne room again. The three spiritual authorities seated together beneath the symbols of centuries of power. A meeting he had spent years arranging had finally happened. And now Moscow was disappearing beneath them.

"End it."

"Immediately?"

"Immediately."

Victor nodded.

"Move the Pope and the Luminar somewhere secure. Somewhere comfortable. They are not to leave these walls."

Not that they could even if they wanted to try, he thought as he turned back toward the map. The enormous displays showed Moscow from above.

His fingers curled slowly at his side. He had summoned the Pope to Moscow. He had placed the Brotherhood beside the Church. He had brought three worlds into the same room. And now something had buried his capital beneath a mountain of snow.

Nikolai looked to al’Shaidis.

"How many of the Dominions are on the grounds?"

"Six including myself, sir."

"Send word for them to get ready."

Karim nodded curtly and began to send his own orders to the other five that were on site. A brief silence had fallen when Nikolai addressed all of KSOC at once.

"Prepare for deployment. Engineering units, emergency services, military transport. Everything capable of moving through that snow goes with us."

The Commissioner-General stared at him.

"You intend to go, sir?"

Nikolai looked him in the eye.

"I intend to lead."