“Our specialty: infiltration.” Fela knew she had a duty to place herself in the center of the action. Studying military forces in action, she understood how division among the ranks festered into unhealable wounds. It was a simple matrix of judgment. Action sifted character. Those who performed, who could handle anything thrown at them, earned respect. The HOVA Hellfighters regiment were legendary. Fela knew enough to know she didn’t know much, but had to project confidence around her people or she’d be the chaff and lose them forever.

Only the faintest upturn of the corner of her mouth betrayed her as Epyc Ro suppressed a smirk at the word our. “Recon?”

“Yes. The rest of the squad will hold up here, including the heavy unit, once the Hughes lands while we get a lay of the land. Literally and figuratively. Maps. Scans. Readings. And a survey.”

“Survey of what?” Robin asked.

“It appears that there’s something that might be a city seven kilometers west. We’re charged with assessing it.” Fela enlarged the telemetry projection.

“A city.”

“Yes.”

“An urban design to allow inhabitants to live and function as a society,” Robin confirmed.

“Yes.”

“That implies inhabitants.”

“Yes,” Fela said.

“That’s … a lot.” Robin pretended to study her scanner while she absorbed the totality of their situation.

Life out here was not only a possibility but a probability. The Drake equation predicted the abundance of spacefaring life a long time ago. In their galaxy, much less out here in unexplored, uncharted space. The probability that they would encounter life out in the universe once they began exploring had always been accepted, though more theoretical than anything else. It was built into their mission parameters and training—the cause of much excitement and speculation. The idea of the artificial wormhole. Landing under possible radar detection. First-contact protocols training. Cultural engagement and diplomatic training a part of all officer studies. They barely knew someone was out here; they turned a convenient blind eye that they were marching ever closer to someone else’s home. Surrounded by proof of life. That they were not alone out here. Life won out. Wild, extraordinary, adapting to circumstance. It was, after all, why Muungano built starships and communication buoys. To explore and reach out. Now they stood on the precipice of not just possible evidence but of contact. The elders whispered of the possibility. In some Code Black / Eyes Only briefings, there seemed to be a tacit race to engage in communication with rumored aliens. O.E. continued to launch probes and years ago quit sharing unabridged data with the Muungano Science Council. Fela watched the information settle on each of her gbeto. Waves of wonder, delight, fear. Possibilities.