"Let's just revise the points we went through in the meeting," Mehta sighed.
In the grand chamber of the United Front Assembly Hall, a quiet tension lingered like static in the air. Arjun Mehta, India's senior representative to the UF, adjusted his earpiece, tuning into the ongoing deliberations.
It has been two years since the Shift. The world is still trying to redefine itself.
"Earth, now adrift in the unfamiliar Novam System, has become a planet in flux," the secretary read aloud. "The catastrophic event not only displaced humanity across a new cosmic frontier, but forced nations into a reluctant and necessary coalition. The United Front, a governing body of thirty-four surviving major nations."
As Mehta listened, his eyes scanned the projected maps flashing across the holoscreens. Earth's climate zones had been redrawn and were now unpredictable. The old order of geopolitics had crumbled. It was replaced by a new world shaped by violent storms, radiation zones, and global food shortages.
Russia, once buried in permafrost, had become an agricultural powerhouse. South and Southeast Asia, devastated by rising sea levels and monsoonal chaos, had pivoted to labor-heavy industries. These regions now supplied most of the peacekeeping troops worldwide. Meanwhile, the Americans, Chinese, and Europeans focused on halting the terraforming disasters. They poured everything into space exploration and off-world resource extraction.
"The world has changed," the secretary concluded. "And so have its priorities."
She closed her file. "We're all set, sir."
Mehta buttoned his suit jacket. "Let's get going."
In the Conference Room
Around the massive oval table, diplomats from each major nation prepared for a volatile session.
The U.S. representative was the first to speak.
"The topic at hand: The Novam Orbital Research Initiative, NORI."
He paused, letting the name sink in.
"We propose the establishment of a centralized space research division under UF control. It will merge the remnants of former space agencies, including the decaying modules of the ISS, India's Gaganyaan, and China's Tiangong, into one unified orbital facility."
A voice cut through the murmurs.
"This is a matter of global survival," said Ambassador Wei Zhang of China. His tone was firm but measured. "Earth cannot remain isolated in Novam. A permanent orbital presence is essential. NORI is our first step toward re-establishing humanity's place in this new world."
"And who will control this station?" came the sharp response from Representative Helena Kovács of the European Union. "We will not support a system dominated by any one power. If NORI is to exist, it must be truly neutral."
Mehta watched the back-and-forth with a calm but calculating gaze.
Trust was still fragile. The war that broke out after the Shift had left deep scars. The wreckage of shattered warships still littered irradiated ocean trenches. They were grim reminders of how quickly alliances could collapse. Trade routes had vanished. Borders had blurred.
He remembered those early days. The panic. The broadcasts. The desperate scrounging for resources. Nations had acted on fear, not logic. Grid failures. Food riots. Climate anomalies. Survival had become an act of improvisation.
And now, they were expected to cooperate.
He inhaled deeply. Had the world really learned anything?
His eyes flicked to the meeting's central point. NORI.
On paper, it was ambitious. It aimed to fuse the remains of the world's space programs into a single global research station. If completed, it would become humanity's first united presence in space. A symbol of unity, or of control, depending on who called the shots.
"This initiative is non-negotiable," Zhang stated, more forcefully now. "The longer we delay, the more we fall behind in understanding the Novam system. We must act."
Mehta found himself agreeing, at least in principle.
Public unrest was rising across the globe. Cults and rebel movements were gaining traction, driven by fear of the unknown. Governments responded with questionable methods. People were desperate. They needed hope. Something to believe in.
And NORI could be that beacon.
But power, Mehta knew, was never handed out. It was seized, traded, or manipulated into existence.
"And who will govern this station?" Kovács repeated. "The European Union refuses to support any factional dominance. NORI must be governed under neutral supervision."
More murmurs followed. A few nods. Some skepticism.
Neutrality was an illusion, but a necessary one.
Across the table, Secretary James Adler of the United States scoffed.
"Neutral?" he echoed with a dry smile. "And who exactly do you trust to be neutral?" He leaned back in his chair. "This station will require funding, technology, and security. None of these come cheap. Those who contribute the most should have the loudest voice. That's how reality works."
The implication was clear. Money equals control.
Mehta steepled his fingers in thought. India had its own stake in this.
The Two-Month War had proved that old rivalries were still alive, just buried beneath the weight of necessity. Cooperation was a bandage, fragile and temporary.
He cleared his throat.
"What about the labor force?" Mehta asked. His voice was calm but deliberate. The room turned toward him.
"South and Southeast Asian nations have been the backbone of reconstruction since the Shift. If NORI is to be a global venture, our contribution in manpower must be reflected in decision-making."
A ripple of discomfort followed.
Because it was true.
While the so-called world powers clung to their crumbling empires, it was the developing nations that had cleaned the debris, rebuilt supply chains, and provided the muscle. Yet, when it came to strategy and influence, they were always left behind.
Kovács tilted her head. "A fair point, Ambassador Mehta," she said cautiously. "But decision-making should reflect strategic merit, not just labor."
Mehta's jaw tensed.
"Strategic merit doesn't exist without execution," he replied. "Those doing the rebuilding aren't just labor. They're the foundation. If NORI is to function, it will need more than just financiers. It will need hands to build it, and minds to keep it running."
Silence followed.
Even Zhang paused, considering the point.
Adler shifted uncomfortably. He glanced at his allies, calculating the optics.
And for the first time that morning, the power in the room shifted, not toward the wealthiest or most advanced nations, but toward the ones who had sacrificed the most to keep the world breathing.
End of Chapter