[POV: Sofia Lanka]

"You’re late for the inaugural summit, Lyon. The representatives from the Neo-Pacific districts have been sitting in the gallery for twenty minutes, and if I have to listen to the delegate from the Northern Wastes explain the carbon-neutrality of his trade routes one more time, I might actually reinstate the Golden Line just to shut him up. Where have you been? Your uniform is a mess, and you smell like lunar dust and high-grade coolant."

Sofia’s voice was no longer the jagged rasp of a survivor, but the measured, commanding tone of a woman who had spent a decade stitching a broken world back together. She stood...