The paneled walls of the Cabinet Office conference room made the panic feel smaller, more concentrated, like heat trapped in an old boiler. Papers were spread across the table — printouts of spectral logs, copies of DEFRA bulletins, internal memos stamped URGENT, and a red folder marked simply:
INTERNATIONAL COMMUNICATIONS — PRIORITY.
The Home Secretary was already pacing when Isaac, Julie, Nathan, and Ina were ushered in. The Foreign Secretary stood rigidly at the table, both hands braced on the wood as if trying to keep the room from tilting.
A tall MOD liaison closed the door behind them.
“We have a situation,” the Home Secretary said, voice too loud.
“Several,” the Foreign Secretary corrected.
He slid a document across the table.
Nathan picked it up.
It wasn’t even subtle.
UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF STATE
REQUEST FOR TECHNICAL COOPERATION — URGENT
Julie read over Isaac’s shoulder. The wording was diplomatic, but the intent was unmistakable:
…given recent environmental anomalies detected through UK systems,
we request immediate bilateral briefings on AGPI protocol and FAEI architecture…
with expectation of coordinated oversight frameworks…
Nathan let out a low whistle. “They didn’t waste time.”
“They’re not the only ones,” the Foreign Secretary said, sliding the next envelope across the table.
COUNCIL OF THE EUROPEAN UNION
NOTICE OF STRATEGIC SCIENCE CONCERN
It was shorter.
Sharper.
Julie skimmed it.
Her throat tightened.
The EU message pointedly referenced:
- shared environmental risk
- cross-border regulatory obligations
- “dangerous asymmetry in technical capability”
- and “expectation of reciprocal transparency.”
And then the third envelope.
This one bore no seal — only a white card with a line of characters printed in meticulous black ink.
China.
Ina opened it before anyone else moved.
She read it silently, eyes steady, mouth tightening just once before she laid it flat on the table.
Nathan scanned it next.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “They’re implying parallel development.”
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“No,” Ina corrected gently. “They’re implying preemption if we don’t cooperate.”
Julie looked at Isaac.
He looked faintly ill.
The Home Secretary resumed pacing.
“We cannot — cannot — let this escalate. We can’t hold FAEI alone, not with these three circling us.”
“We told you this was coming,” the Foreign Secretary muttered. “The moment DEFRA filed that bulletin, every intelligence service in the world started sniffing the air.”
“And they all saw the same thing,” Ina said calmly. “A general experimental intelligence architecture that can classify actinide signatures, optimize hazardous systems, and possibly—”
She nodded toward Isaac and Julie.
“—accelerate scientific discovery in ways no nation can afford to let another nation control.”
Silence.
Then the Home Secretary slammed his palm on the table.
“We’re cornered.”
“No,” Ina said.
Not raised.
Not sharp.
Just correct.
“We’re not cornered. We’re central.”
Everyone turned to her.
“If multiple world powers want the same thing,” she continued, “that means none of them can act first. They’re not going to strike. They’re not going to sabotage. They’re going to negotiate. Hard. Loudly. And with far more leverage than we’d like.”
“But that gives us something invaluable.”
She folded her hands atop the table.
“Time.”
Nathan smiled faintly.
He had seen this game before — just never on stakes this large.
The Foreign Secretary exhaled through his nose.
“And what exactly do we do with this time, Mrs. Halberg?”
“We use it to decide the terms,” she replied. “Not whether we share. That decision has already been made for us. But how we share.”
The Home Secretary frowned.
“Are you saying we bow to pressure?”
“I’m saying,” Ina answered, “we shape it.”
She nodded to the envelopes.
“If we refuse transparency, the US will force bilateral agreements. The EU will escalate through science sanctions. China will pursue parallel development. All three paths destabilize us.”
“So, what then?” the Foreign Secretary asked.
Ina looked at Isaac.
Then Julie.
Then Nathan.
“An international body,” she said. “A council that oversees FAEI research and all AGPI-derived scientific work.”
“A UN thing?” the Home Secretary said, skeptical.
“Exactly,” she replied. “A multilateral scientific council. One that preserves UK credit, maintains Halberg’s technical authority, protects Isaac’s research lineage, and prevents international conflict.”
The Foreign Secretary’s eyes narrowed.
“But that means giving it away.”
“No,” Ina said.
“It means ceding stewardship.
Not ownership.”
Nathan’s shoulders relaxed.
He could sell that.
The Home Secretary swallowed.
“You think the world will accept that?”
“They’ll insist on it,” Ina said.
“But the form of it—the structure, the mandate, the safeguards—those we can still shape, if we move quickly.”
The MOD liaison finally spoke.
“And what about the… dangerous discovery?”
Isaac flinched.
Everyone in the room knew what he meant.
Ina didn’t hesitate.
“That,” she said, “never leaves this building’s highest classification. And when we negotiate, it will become the first condition of cooperation.”
Nathan nodded once.
“The Americans will agree.”
“The Europeans will agree harder,” the Foreign Secretary added.
“And China,” Ina said softly, “will insist.”
Julie squeezed Isaac’s hand under the table.
The Home Secretary looked around the room, ashen but steadier now.
“So… we begin negotiations?”
Ina nodded.
“Yes. And the first meeting will be contentious. Possibly hostile. But if we manage it correctly, the outcome will be the same.”
“And what outcome is that?” the Foreign Secretary asked.
Ina’s voice was calm, level, unquestioning.
“A global science council with FAEI under shared stewardship, the UK credited as originator, Halberg Systems as its technical backbone…”
Her gaze flicked toward Isaac.
“…and the world prevented from tearing itself apart trying to get to you.”
The Home Secretary sank into his chair.
“God help us,” he murmured. “This is bigger than anything we’ve ever dealt with.”
Nathan straightened his cuffs.
“Then we handle it like it is.”
Julie looked at Isaac.
He didn’t speak.
He just nodded once—slowly, reluctantly, but with the quiet certainty of a man who understood the gravity of what had begun.