Stacia sank against the wall in a moment’s respite. Still the captain, all eyes followed her, but she needed to have a moment for herself. To feel. To allow her emotions to wash over her if only for an instant. Though in that instant, she also wanted to retreat to her room, close the door, and absorb the realities that she had few if any friends left. Her thoughts drifted to Amachi. The buzzing returned as a dull roar. Her anger flared in order to quell it.

“What was he working on?” she snapped.

“I don’t know, Captain. He was scanning through a shit ton of reports,” Hondo said.

“Do we have a presumed assault weapon?”

“No. Probably an object of opportunity, one they took with them.”

“What do we know?”

“That Paki is missing,” Hondo said.

“Are you trying me right now?” Stacia reared toward him.

“No, Captain. I mean we just discovered him missing. We haven’t had a chance to process the scene, collect any stories, or collate any data. Not even enough for a preliminary report. It literally just happened.”

Stacia rubbed the bridge of her nose. After a calming breath, she blinked at him. “You’re right. You’re right. Raise alert status to red. Double the guards at all junctures. I want status reports every half hour.”

“Yes, Captain.” Hondo stepped back again.

One of Kenya’s security team flashed an anxious, skeptical look to her, hoping Stacia would miss it.

She didn’t.

“I want every log Paki filed, every crew member he talked to, hell, every panel he touched brought to my quarters.”

“Every … panel?” Hondo asked.

“You get what I’m saying. I want thoroughness and excellence. One of our own is missing and may have been killed. Another may even be a murderer. I’m not resting until the appropriate party has been caught and I understand why things have unfolded this way. Which means you’re not resting. None of you are. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Captain,” they said in unison.

“Close down this area for investigation and then clean it up.”

The aloneness stalked her, out the room and down the hallway. Swathed in a darkness, she tried not to focus on the possibility of his death for fear of tumbling into it and drowning in its waves. Stacia never experienced a death under her command before. Accidents, certainly, but not a death. The community’s mood and morale already ebbed dangerously low. Her heart ached at the thought of her people going through another grieving service, so soon after Xola, with them reeling from another blow while barely recuperated from his loss. She didn’t know what words to offer to her people to make things better. To give them hope. There were not enough words in any language to do that.