Frozen Flame of Dawn - Chapter 29

Chapter 29: Chapter 14: The Shattered Network_1

There was silence in the grand hall of the Federation’s headquarters. The air was heavy with the choices that had been made during the meeting. Chancellor Helen stood at the arched window, her sharp profile contrasted with the orange tones of the setting sun.

Helen’s fingers tightened around the windowsill. The meeting was over, but her mind refused to rest. Every team had their tasks—intelligence was chasing shadows to locate the broadcast’s origin, the defense unit was bracing for the predicted spiritual energy surge, and communication teams were scrambling to keep public order intact.

Yet, despite all this, unease clawed at her thoughts, a nagging voice whispering that they weren’t prepared enough.

She let out a slow breath and turned away from the window, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she strode to her chair. Sitting down, she pressed the intercom button. “Call Prof. Peter to my office. I need to discuss something.”

The guard at the door gave a curt nod and stepped out. Helen leaned back in her chair, staring at the intricate carvings on the ceiling. The hum of distant conversations and the faint whir of machinery in the hallway did little to soothe her nerves.

Minutes later, the guard returned, followed by Prof. Peter, the Federation’s lead researcher on energy and electromagnetic phenomena. The professor was a wiry man in his mid-fifties, his silver hair perpetually disheveled and his glasses slightly askew.

He greeted her with a polite nod, his voice carrying the cautious tone of someone who knew he was about to be asked something unpleasant.

“Madam Chancellor,” he began, “you wanted to see me?”

Helen wasted no time on pleasantries. “Prof. Peter, could this surge disrupt our communication systems? Both long-range and short-range?”

Peter blinked, clearly not expecting the directness. He adjusted his glasses, his brow furrowing in thought. “Well… that depends on the nature of the surge. If it interferes with the magnetic fields in the environment, then yes, it’s a possibility. But such interference would need to be massive and—how do I put this—variable.”

Helen narrowed her eyes. “Variable? Explain.”

The professor scratched his head, clearly searching for the simplest way to convey a highly technical concept. “Imagine a lake, Madam Chancellor. If you throw a single stone, the ripples are consistent, and we can predict their pattern. But if you keep throwing stones at random intervals and places, the water becomes chaotic, and predicting the ripples—or in this case, the magnetic fields—becomes nearly impossible.”

Helen’s lips pressed into a thin line. “So, if the surge stabilizes after it hits, we can adjust?”

“Yes, exactly. We’d be able to reroute our communication channels to match the new frequencies. It would take time, but it’s doable. However…” Peter hesitated, his expression grim.

“However, if the disruption keeps shifting, we’re screwed,” Helen finished for him, her tone dry. “Wonderful.”

Peter gave her an apologetic smile. “In that case, wireless communication would be unreliable. It would be like trying to tune a radio station in the middle of a thunderstorm—fuzzy at best, impossible at worst.”

Helen leaned back, exhaling sharply. “And the solution?”

Peter’s lips twitched into a humorless smile. “Well, Madam Chancellor, we might have to dust off the technology we abandoned—Wired communication.”

Helen stared at him, her eyebrows lifting in disbelief. “You mean… running actual physical lines? Like few decade ago?”

“Precisely,” Peter said, adjusting his glasses again. “We still have the infrastructure in some places—mostly for emergencies—but most of it has been replaced with wireless systems. For now, we can focus on setting up wired communication within the capital and encouraging other cities and districts to do the same.”

Helen tapped her fingers against the desk, her expression unreadable. Then she gave a short laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Great. So, in the face of a world-changing energy surge, our grand solution is to reinvent the landline.”

“It’s not elegant, I admit,” Peter said with a faint smirk. “But it’s practical.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Fine. Do what you can. Prioritize setting up a secure wired network in the capital, and send out directives for the other regions to follow suit. If this surge knocks out all our fancy tech, I don’t want us sitting here twiddling our thumbs.”

Peter gave a short bow. “Understood, Madam Chancellor. I’ll get on it right away.”

As Peter went out she gave few instruction to her guard. After the her guard went out to deliver the messages, she leaned back in her chair, but the stress in her body wouldn’t go away. It was clear that wired communication networks needed to be set up in all cities, towns, and districts.

Now, it was up to the provincial leaders and mayors to keep things stable in case communication broke down.

She glanced at the clock. 4:00 PM. One hour left. The prediction loomed over her like a storm cloud. Helen exhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus on the reports in front of her. Each document was a jumbled mess of contingency plans, technical readouts, and logistical updates.

Her eyes scanned the words, but her mind kept drifting. Was it really going to happen? Or was this some elaborate prank?

The clock ticked relentlessly. Each second seemed louder than the last. She looked at it again. 4:57 PM. Just three minutes to go.

With her heels clicking on the shiny floor, she pushed herself out of the chair and walked toward the large window. The city stretched out before her, deceptively calm.

The normal buzz of life went on as if nothing had changed. People walked quickly and cars drove through the streets. Helen let herself think for a split second, “Maybe it’s all a hoax.” Possibly, the broadcast was only meant to see how paranoid we were.

Then all of a sudden, something like a tsunami hit her. Her throat got tight, and she stumbled. To steady herself, she grabbed the edge of the window frame. The air itself felt heavier, thicker—almost alive.

She gasped as if she had been dropped into a vacuum as a smothering wave crushed across her chest.

The guards outside her office rushed in, looking pale and tense. They were not immune either; their motions were sluggish, and their breathing was difficult. One of them went to her aid. “Are you okay, Madame Chancellor?”

Despite the fact that her hands were shaking, she said, “I’m fine.” The words came out sharp, more of a command to herself than an assurance to them.

This didn’t convince the other guard. He said as he walked toward the door, “I’m calling the doctor.”

“No,” Helen snapped, forcing herself to straighten. “There’s no time. Get the teams mobilized instead.”

Even though she protested, one of the guards insisted and went to get medical help while the other helped her sit down. Heather held on to the armrests so hard that her fingers turned white as she tried to control her shallow breathing.

Things were going badly outside her office. Not long ago, the streets looked pretty normal. Now, they were full of chaos. People stumbled and fell over from the weight that they couldn’t see. Some people clutched their chests and gasped for air, while others lost their balance and fell to their knees.

The elderly and children were hit the hardest. Many of them passed out right away because their bodies weren’t strong enough to handle the surge.

Hospitals were flooded with calls for help, but even the medical staff struggled to move through the oppressive atmosphere. Ambulances stalled in the streets, their engines refusing to start, and the few that remained functional couldn’t navigate the panic-stricken crowds.

The intercom on Helen’s desk crackled, snapping her out of her daze. A shaky voice came through. “Madam Chancellor, all wireless communication systems have been disrupted. There’s no network—nothing’s working.”

Helen steadied herself against the table, her breathing still labored but her resolve hardening. “We knew this was coming,” she said, her voice sharp, cutting through the panic like a blade. “Deploy all defense teams immediately. Activate every emergency protocol. Equip everyone with wired communication lines and establish a central hub to manage coordination between teams.”

The officer on the other end hesitated. “And the public, ma’am?”

Helen’s jaw tightened. “The communication unit needs to focus on calming the masses. Get the medics to prioritize the vulnerable first. We’ll deal with the rest as it comes. Now move.”

As she ended the call, her breath steadying after the whirlwind of commands she had just issued. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on her, but she forced herself to focus. One step at a time, Helen, she thought, though the reassuring mantra did little to soothe the storm brewing within.

The dim glow of the lights in her office caught her attention. They blinked erratically, stuttering like a faulty signal. Her eyes narrowed. “Even the power grid isn’t immune to this mess,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief. “Of course, it’s not. Why would it be?”