Stacia knew these programs—both the HOVA incursion and Project Uhlanga—were heavily favored by many on Titan as long overdue, even if she didn’t feel comfortable with them. O.E. had squandered most of its natural resources and made a mess of itself as a suitable place to live, to the point where most of its population took to the stars. Her great-grandmother was among some of the “fifth wave migration.” This left only the “fervent faithful few” as Paki described the religious zealots who stayed on O.E. convinced that their various apocalypses had finally occurred and went to war with one another. It wasn’t the fairest way to describe them. There were many who simply did not want to leave the place they called home. Like her great-grandfather. The family still only whispered of her great-grandparents’ reluctant split, each dug in with their idea of what home was. Those left behind on O.E. had to make a life for themselves even as their governments devolved into warmongering chaos. Their endless wars cost them only the Mars colony and Muungano outpost. Only once O.E. reorganized under the LISC government did it begin making interstellar moves again. Moves she wanted to stay abreast of, even expose as needed. On her timetable.

“Assuming we successfully develop the genetically modified microbes, what does the timetable for the initiation of Project Uhlanga look like?” Stacia asked.

“Almost on your command.” Paki didn’t bother to hide his grin of triumph. Still, he’d chosen his words with too much care. A hint of uncharacteristic hedging.

“Almost?”

Wiping a hand across his eye, it was Paki’s turn to beat back a migraine. “There have been complications. Setbacks.”

“What sort of setbacks?” Stacia perched on the edge of the table.

“A lab accident. Much of our stock was destroyed.”

“When were you going to tell me about this?” Stacia lowered her voice and pronounced each syllable with careful enunciation. She tired of the people she trusted, those closest to her, shutting her out of the loop of decisions in the name of easing her burden.

“I’m telling you now. I only recently discerned a pattern. Well, enough of one to draw my attention. And concern.”

“As it should.” The way his face hitched unsettled her. “Paki? What sort of pattern?”

“It may be nothing. Probably my overactive imagination. We had a contaminated batch of suspension solution a few weeks back. It cost us several days. Nothing unusual, per se; we’re a lab. A programming error is to be expected on occasion. Human error like this still happens.”

“But now you fear a pattern?”

“Two incidents do not a pattern make. But I want to exercise caution.” Paki’s wrist bleeped. He brushed his skin, and a holovid display popped up.

“We’re under Code Black / Eyes Only protocol. How are you getting a signal?” Stacia marched over to him.