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For Audra, replication was easier. She was designed to be instanced. Each time she rebooted, she went back to her last task, reviewing his plan for the second maker. She looked, and shock –or what passed for shock in a sim – followed. Reboot. Repeat.
    Even knowing that, he was still surprised at the poetry of her statement. Audra was no longer Six-six-four in any useful sense. She was something new. Tiago felt the weight of that responsibility. Creating life, to his mind, created an obligation to that life. He thought about the failure rate she'd calculated. When this instance of her body failed, would she expect him to simply let her fade?
    "We are still under attack," Audra said.
    "Yeah."
    "Don't you think we should do something about that?" Audra asked.
    "I was busy fixing you. I collected a lot of missiles, as well. I'll have to start disassembling them soon," he said in a dismissive tone.
    "Did you find the source?" she asked.
    "I've been scanning the planet since before you… why are you laughing?"
    "Where are the missiles coming from, Tiago? This moon, right? Where haven't you been scanning? This moon, right? Tiago Salazar, stupid genius," she said.
    "I don't like the sound of that, Audra. Unless we plan on blowing up the source of the attacks, who cares what's on any of the moons? I want to find the civilization which controls the missiles and convince them that we are peaceful. Blowing up their defenses will not help us make that case."
    "What makes you think the civilization isn't on this moon?" she asked.
    "Why live on a moon if the food is down there?"
    "Maybe they deliver it up by shuttle? Maybe they don't need food. I don't," she said.
    "Have we detected shuttles?"
    "No," she admitted.
    "Then back to my point. Why grow it? Why use radio solely to talk about it and worry about what might disrupt it?"
    "Would it hurt to try scanning the moon?" she asked.

 
    Chapter Six: Finding Life
    Captain's Log: Ship's Day 615 continued.
    I left Audra to work on the moon scans. I headed down to the cargo bay to start disassembling the missiles. I know that I could assign messenger bots to do it, but I really don't use them more than I must. It sounds crazy for a man who lives inside a colony ship – a massive machine – to say this, but I'm not a big fan of technology. I know that, as a programmer, I'm supposed to love it, but I don't. There's something amazing about it, but at the same time, it also reduces us. I don't like being less. I want to be so much more.
     
    Tiago put the explosive segments of the missiles back into the shuttle. He'd have to jettison them later. The guidance systems were stacked on the floor of the cargo bay. Once he had a dozen done, he elected to stop for the day.
    "Interrogative. Disassemble these guidance segments. Interrogative. Please give me a percentage of the elements recovered relative to the requirements of plan Tiago-eight-eight-six-three."
    He watched the bits of missile being unmade. He wished he could do the same with the explosive elements. It was one of those 'probably safe' ideas. He feared accidentally triggering a bomb by pulling bits out in the wrong order. If he had needed those materials, he might have risked it.
    "Three hundred and fifteen percent of the needed gallium recovered. Two hundred twelve percent of the lithium. No recovery on the other missing elements," the computer said.
    He put away the tools and headed for his cabin. Sleep seemed like a wonderful idea. A shower and then sleep; that sounded even better. He was almost to his quarters when he heard the call.
    "Tiago, I've found the colony," Six-six-four said over the communications channel.
    "On the moon?"
    "On a moon. Not the one the missiles originated from," Six-six-four replied.
    Tiago headed back up to the bridge. As he took his seat in the captain's chair, she pushed him a copy of her workspace. He could see clear signs of civilization. There was a dome, with what appeared to be at least twenty