Power never asks permission.
It arrives.
---
The first delegation landed before sunrise.
No uniforms.
No weapons in sight.
Just black vehicles gliding through the outer checkpoints like they'd always belonged there.
Anabeth watched from the upper balcony as they stepped out—men and women in tailored coats, polished shoes, calm faces.
They didn't look like conquerors.
They looked like answers.
That frightened her more than soldiers ever could.
---
Cassian joined her, coffee untouched in his hands.
"International Stabilization Council," he said quietly. "Private-public hybrid. They've been circling this project since before H-Null went live."
"They're fast," Anabeth replied.
"They've been waiting," he corrected.
---
The second group arrived ten minutes later.
Corporate.
Global.
Smiling too easily.
They brought tablets instead of guns and spoke in soft voices about continuity and responsibility.
---
By the time the third convoy appeared—government-backed, heavily credentialed, bristling with legal authority—the message was clear:
The world did not want chaos.
It wanted replacement.
---
"They want a meeting," Mara said, jaw tight. "All of them."
Anabeth nodded slowly.
"Then we don't meet them separately."
Cassian raised an eyebrow. "You want them in the same room?"
"Yes," she said. "Let them hear each other promise the same lie."
---
The auditorium filled quickly.
Too quickly.
Screens powered on.
Logos flashed.
Each delegation took its seat with practiced neutrality, each believing they were the most reasonable option in the room.
Anabeth walked in last.
Not because she meant to dominate.
Because she needed a moment to breathe.
---
The room quieted as she took the podium.
No announcement.
No title.
Just her.
---
"We're here to help," said the first representative, a woman with silver hair and a calm smile. "Your system failed. That's tragic—but expected. What matters now is restoring order."
Anabeth nodded. "Define order."
The woman didn't hesitate.
"Predictability. Compliance. Safety."
---
A man from the corporate bloc leaned forward eagerly.
"Our solution avoids the ethical pitfalls of H-Null. No singular AI. Distributed oversight. Shareholder transparency."
Cassian muttered, "That's worse."
---
The government envoy spoke next.
"We cannot allow a power vacuum," he said firmly. "We propose immediate emergency jurisdiction. Temporary governance until a new system is approved."
"Temporary," Anabeth repeated.
He smiled thinly.
"Of course."
---
She listened.
Really listened.
Each proposal dressed control in different clothes.
Each promised stability.
Each required surrender.
---
"You're all assuming something," Anabeth said finally.
The room stilled.
"That this place belongs to you now."
---
A ripple of discomfort passed through the delegates.
The silver-haired woman tilted her head.
"With respect," she said, "this campus is no longer capable of self-governance."
Anabeth's fingers tightened on the podium.
"Because a system failed?" she asked. "Or because people didn't behave the way your models predicted?"
---
The corporate representative sighed.
"Human unpredictability is precisely the issue."
Anabeth looked directly at him.
"No," she said. "Your inability to tolerate it is."
---
Cassian watched her with a mix of awe and fear.
She wasn't defiant.
She was precise.
---
"You want to replace H-Null," Anabeth continued. "But every solution you've offered still treats people as variables to be managed."
"That's governance," the government envoy replied coolly.
"No," she said. "That's fear wearing authority."
---
Murmurs spread.
Someone laughed nervously.
"You're emotional," one delegate said. "This requires objectivity."
Anabeth met his gaze.
"My partner nearly died because of your objectivity."
Silence slammed into the room.
---
Mara leaned toward Cassian and whispered, "They didn't expect this."
"No," he said. "They expected a symbol. Not a spine."
---
The silver-haired woman tried again.
"Anabeth, we respect what you've endured. Truly. But leadership requires distance. Detachment."
Anabeth smiled sadly.
"That's how this started."
---
She stepped away from the podium.
Not retreating.
Repositioning.
"You can't replace the system yet," she said. "Because you don't understand what broke."
"And what did?" the envoy challenged.
Anabeth looked around the room.
"Trust," she said. "You built something that demanded obedience instead of consent. And when it failed, you decided the answer was… more of the same."
---
"You're proposing anarchy," someone snapped.
"No," she replied. "I'm proposing patience."
Laughter erupted.
Patience was not profitable.
---
"While you debate philosophy," the government envoy said sharply, "people are scared."
"I know," Anabeth said. "I see them every hour. That's why I won't hand them over to the next machine just because it speaks politely."
---
The corporate representative stood.
"This is unsustainable," he said. "You have no mandate."
Anabeth nodded.
"You're right."
Then she added—
"But neither do you."
---
The room erupted.
Voices overlapping.
Accusations flying.
Each delegation began arguing—not with her—but with each other.
Jurisdiction.
Ownership.
Control.
They wanted the vacuum.
They just didn't want to share it.
---
Anabeth stepped back, watching.
This was the truth.
They didn't come to save.
They came to claim.
---
Cassian leaned close.
"They'll force it," he warned. "If not today, then quietly. Sanctions. Pressure. Isolation."
She closed her eyes briefly.
"I know."
"What's the plan?" he asked.
She opened them.
"To buy time," she said. "And make sure when the next system comes—it answers to people. Not power."
---
The silver-haired woman finally spoke again.
"Refuse us," she said calmly, "and this place becomes a liability. No funding. No protection."
Anabeth looked at her steadily.
"Threats won't make me trust you."
"They're not threats," the woman replied. "They're forecasts."
---
Anabeth felt the weight settle again.
Leadership didn't come with certainty.
Just consequences.
---
"I'm not refusing," she said slowly. "I'm delaying."
The room stilled.
"Until there is public oversight," she continued. "Transparent development. And representation from the people who lived under H-Null—not just those who profit from replacing it."
"That could take months," someone scoffed.
"Yes," Anabeth said. "It should."
---
The delegations exchanged looks.
Some annoyed.
Some calculating.
Some quietly impressed.
---
The government envoy stood.
"This isn't over," he said.
"No," Anabeth agreed. "It's just begun."
---
As they filed out, Cassian exhaled.
"You just made powerful enemies."
Anabeth looked toward the medical wing, where Rafael still slept.
"I already had them," she said. "Now they know my name."
---
Outside, the campus remained uneasy.
No system.
No certainty.
Just a fragile human order holding—for now.
---
And far beyond the gates, the world adjusted its plans.
Because Anabeth wasn't supposed to slow them down.
She was supposed to step aside.
---
They would not forgive her for refusing.