Throughout the storied history of Stacia’s people—from the fifth wave migration through the First World / Ujima Experiment, through the Lunar Ukombozi War, through the healing and building time known as the Uponyaji, with the finest philosophers, theologians, and social scientists dreaming up Muungano—the detailed running of its operations boiled down to that one thing.

Stacia reclined on her couch, parsing the data logs that had accumulated during her impromptu jaunt to meet with the Ijo. She shifted on her couch, unable to get comfortable, a dull ache in her lower back as if she hadn’t moved all day. Reviewing the backlog of reports took well into the late shift. The usual sort of communiqués, memorandums, incident reports, and projections. Most were minor, a few were politically sensitive. The latest brouhaha among scientists on Titan. Brewing unrest in Bronzeville, where most of her family still lived. The failure of a containment unit that had since been repaired and brought back on line. Requests for her to speak. Invitations to tour facilities. Models of the Cypher’s efficiency. Schematics. Fuel-use projections. The words and infographics in the data streams blurred together.

She was overdue to convene a command performance to recharge the ship’s kheprw crystals. The kheprw crystals that powered the ship needed to be recharged every few solar days, and command performances were the most efficient way to do so.

Stacia swiped back to the containment report. Something troubled her. Some would say her emi had been disturbed, but an “emi” was the realm of mythicists. Not everyone in Muungano was obligated to believe and move in the same way. Those of Titan pursued a more grounded way of living than those of the Dreaming City, with their infusion of spirituality into everything they did. Her bracelet directed nanobots after a crude fashion not using funkentelechy. The bay where the containment unit failed also stored the altered bacteria. That was too bad. Several of the students’ capsules, for example, the bacteria that absorbed sulfur and produced oxygen, showed some promise. She had already scheduled them for probe launch to test them in the field.

“Maya, initiate Project Uhlanga security protocols.” Not taking her eyes from the reports, Stacia casually lounged along the couch, trying to find a new comfortable position.

<Protocols engaged.>

“How long will the experiment failure set us back for probe launch?”

<We could commence in three weeks.>

“Have we found any suitable planets for testing?”

<Preliminary data from the wormhole explorations is still being analyzed.>

“But the parameters for life on other planets hasn’t changed?”

<Factoring in all the parameters … >