The report arrived on the Polar Wall not as a frantic cry, but as a cold, sterile data packet. Ivan Petrov stood in the tactical command center of Outpost Vorposten, a ghost of a man wreathed in the pale blue light of a holographic display. On the screen, the satellite footage from South Africa played on a silent, damning loop: the tear in reality, the insect-like ships, the silent, ravenous harvest.
His subordinates watched him, waiting for a flicker of emotion, a word, a command. They saw nothing. Ivan's face was, as always, a mask of carved ice. But behind the mask, his mind was a raging storm.
He watched the footage, but he was seeing something else. He was seeing the smoldering ruins of Los Angeles, the grim face of the American scientist, and the defiant eyes of the Chinese soldier. He was remembering the unspoken pact forged in the light of a bloody dawn. A global threat requires a global response.
"Colonel," his intelligence officer said, his voice tense. "A new directive from the UN Security Council. The Pan-European American Alliance is proposing a unified global command for all Awakened. They are volunteering to lead it."
Ivan let out a short, sharp breath, a plume of white mist in the cold air. The sound was as dry and mirthless as grinding stone. Of course. Thorne. The predator was using the arrival of a wolf pack to declare himself the shepherd. He would let the Star Vultures pick off the weaker nations, then absorb the terrified survivors into his new empire. The infighting, the political maneuvering... it was going to get them all killed. They were children, squabbling over pebbles on a beach as the tsunami rose.
He had the answer. He was standing on it. Buried thirty thousand meters beneath his feet, the sleeping god, Zima's Heart, waited. It was a power that could turn the tide, a weapon that could give humanity a fighting chance. His orders were absolute: it was a state secret, Russia's ultimate deterrent.
He looked at the screen, at the alien ships that defied physics. He looked at the political maneuvering that defied logic. His orders were to protect the Motherland. But what was the Motherland, if not a part of the world?
He made a choice.
He strode to his private, hardened communication terminal, the one with a direct, triple-encrypted line to the highest echelons of the Kremlin. This was an act that bypassed generals, admirals, and entire ministries. It was a soldier speaking directly to the heart of power.
His fingers, steady and sure, typed out the message.
TO: PRESIDIUM, STATE SECURITY COUNCIL FROM: COLONEL I. PETROV, POLAR DEFENSE LINE SUBJECT: URGENT: STAR VULTURE THREAT
THE SOUTH AFRICAN INCIDENT REVEALS AN EXTRATERRESTRIAL THREAT SUPERIOR TO OUR COMBINED GLOBAL CAPABILITIES. EARTH'S INTERNAL DIVISIONS WILL LEAD TO OUR SYSTEMATIC DESTRUCTION. I HAVE DISCOVERED A POWER SOURCE, CODENAME ZIMA'S HEART, OF SUFFICIENT MAGNITUDE TO COUNTER THIS THREAT. REQUEST IMMEDIATE PERMISSION TO SHARE KEY DATA WITH GLOBAL PARTNERS, BEGINNING WITH THE EAST ASIAN COMMUNITY, TO FORGE A UNIFIED SCIENTIFIC AND MILITARY FRONT. HUMANITY'S SURVIVAL MUST SUPERSEDE NATIONAL SECRECY. AWAITING YOUR COMMAND.
He sent the message. It was a colossal gamble, an act of profound faith in the reason of his leaders. He was offering them a chance to lead the world, not through secrecy and intimidation, but through a shared hope.
The reply came three hours later. It was not a discussion. It was a single, brutal sentence.
REQUEST DENIED. THE ULTIMATE STRATEGIC DETERRENT IS NOT TO BE EXPOSED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. MAINTAIN YOUR POSITION AND YOUR SILENCE. THIS IS A FINAL ORDER.
Ivan stared at the words on the screen. The faith he had placed in his leaders, in his nation's wisdom, shattered. They were just as blind, just as greedy as Thorne. They would rather hoard the key to salvation and rule over an empire of ash than share it and save the world.
He stood in the silent, cold command center, the weight of the sleeping god beneath his feet a terrible, crushing burden. For the first time, he was faced with a choice that had no right answer: loyalty to his country, or loyalty to his species. The General, the hero, the monster of the ice, was truly, utterly alone.