“Maya, defense protocols. Keyword,” Stacia paused to let Paki provide the brief.

“Uhlanga.”

<Code Black / Eyes Only protocols engaged.>

In this mode, Maya produced an enhanced shield around the room, preventing any kind of surveillance. The record of this meeting would be kept separate, archived with military-level encryption protocols in a more protected part of Maya’s memory core.

“Are we really talking about this?” Stacia ran her hand along the table, activating its holoscreens. The symbols of Project Uhlanga popped up, rotating in anticipation of her next command.

“Why not? It’s long overdue.”

“How are the probes coming?” Stacia eased against her chair as the design schematics of the probes populated the space around her.

“The probes aren’t the issue, and you know it. Maya’s encoded into each chamber. Physically. Like their own cell. The programming would search out habitable worlds.” Activating a holographic projection, Paki isolated and enlarged a probe schematic. He ran a simulation; the probe unfurled like a waking spider. It sloughed nanobots from its interior, the action appearing to leak a fluid of some sort. “It would direct the nanobots and determine what sort of organisms they would like to see evolve.”

Out of reflex, Stacia glanced up, but no interruption came from the AI. It always bothered her when people referred to Maya as it. The word sounded harsh to her ear. She preferred something more neutral, like they. She often overenunciated a correction for Paki’s benefit, hoping he’d get the hint. He made a point of never getting it. Though he never admitted it, he considered himself a gatekeeper of who was truly a part of the community, and Maya wasn’t one of them. Not a real one. “We’re programming them to be God. What does that make us?”

“Human.” Paki paused to allow his comment room to sink in.

Stacia focused on the continuing simulation. The scan of terrestrial conditions and active protolife. The construction of a terraforming chamber. “This seems an overly aggressive move as a first-contact gesture.”

“Launching a probe loaded with math and classical music to broadcast to any alien intelligence encountered was an aggressive gesture. We’re targeting lifeless planets, not annoying populated ones with our pop culture,” Paki said. “All that’s lacking for the chambers are the microbes. And the will to use them.”

“We need final approval from the Ijo.”

“Approval you could have asked for while you were just at the Dreaming City.” Paki tapped the table, discontinuing the simulation. “You’re stalling.”

“We had other pressing matters.”

“You distracted them.” Paki angled his head toward her and tapped his chin. “You knew how they’d react to news about the wormhole given the history of the Mothership Incident.”