The council chamber was a cathedral of glass and steel, suspended above the main launch bay like a judge's gavel poised mid-strike. Twelve seats formed a crescent around a central podium, each occupied by a figure cloaked in the authority of global science, politics, and finance. Their faces were lit by the glow of data streams projected into the air—launch metrics, planetary simulations, and one blinking red alert: BIO-SEEDING CHAMBER: UNSTABLE.
Dr. Blacker stood alone at the center, his coat still dusted with the frost of the vault. He hadn't slept. He hadn't eaten. But he had something none of them did: the specimen.
"Dr. Blacker," said Councilor Adeyemi, the Nigerian representative, his voice smooth but sharp. "You were summoned here to explain the delay. Not to indulge in ghost stories."
Blacker's eyes flicked to the others. Councilor Zhang, stoic and unreadable. Councilor Morales, tapping impatiently at her tablet. Councilor Singh, whispering to his aide. They were waiting for him to fail.
"I have recovered a viable candidate," Blacker said. "Sequence 9-X. It's stable. Responsive. Adaptive."
Councilor Zhang leaned forward. "Recovered? From where?"
Blacker hesitated. "The Osese vault."
A ripple of discomfort passed through the chamber. The vault was taboo. A relic of a failed era. The place where synthetic biology had nearly triggered a global ban.
"You mean the illegal archive," Morales said coldly. "The one sealed by international mandate."
"It was never illegal," Blacker replied. "It was abandoned. And now, it's our only hope."
Adeyemi folded his hands. "You expect us to approve a launch based on a specimen retrieved from a condemned lab, with no peer review, no external validation, and no ethical clearance?"
Blacker stepped forward. "I expect you to approve a launch because Earth is dying. Because Kepler-452b is our best chance. And because this specimen works."
He tapped his wrist console. A holographic simulation filled the chamber: the specimen in the Kepler environment, altering soil chemistry, stabilizing radiation, generating breathable atmosphere. The council watched in silence as the simulation unfolded—impossible, elegant, undeniable.
"It's intelligent," Blacker said. "It learns. It adapts. It communicates."
Councilor Singh raised an eyebrow. "Communicates?"
Blacker nodded. "It requested a test environment. It mimicked neural patterns. It displayed glyphs—symbols that resemble ancient proto-languages."
Morales scoffed. "You're suggesting it's sentient?"
"I'm suggesting it's more than a microbe," Blacker said. "It's a seed. A consciousness. And it chose us."
The chamber fell silent.
Councilor Adeyemi leaned back. "And what happens if it evolves beyond our control? If it decides Kepler isn't enough? If it follows us back?"
Blacker met his gaze. "Then we'll have created something greater than ourselves. Isn't that what science is for?"
The silence stretched.
Then Councilor Zhang spoke. "You have one week. Final validation. Full containment protocols. And you will not launch without council approval."
Blacker nodded. "Understood."
As he turned to leave, Morales called out. "One more thing, Doctor."
He paused.
"If this specimen fails," she said, "you won't be coming back."
---
Back in the lab, Zainab was waiting. Her eyes lit up when she saw him.
"They approved it?"
"Conditional," Blacker said. "We have seven days."
She handed him a tablet. "I've been analyzing the glyphs. They're not just symbols. They're instructions."
Blacker frowned. "Instructions for what?"
Zainab hesitated. "For replication. The specimen wants to multiply."
He stared at the screen. The glyphs pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat.
"Then we need to build a containment field," he said. "One that can hold a mind."
---
That night, Blacker didn't sleep. He sat alone in the vault, watching the specimen pulse in its chamber. He thought of Earth—its poisoned rivers, its burning skies, its children born into scarcity. He thought of Kepler—distant, silent, waiting.
And he thought of the voice in the forest of stars.
"You are the architect. You built the vessel. Now build the seed."
He closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, the real work would begin.