“Sorry. The idea of DNA as music really hit me. But, yeah, what if we could synthesize water the way molecules produce proteins? That’s what my pod will be focusing on.”

“That sounds advanced.”

“Not really. Camara Paki told us to be imaginative. The ideas didn’t necessarily have to work, just be creative. Explore our ideas. No matter how wild.”

Camara Paki. Stacia opted to let that slide. “I wish I had half your creativity at your age. Even now.”

“Thank you.”

“When did you last see … Camara Paki?” The word still stuck on her tongue. Stacia barely managed to get it out.

“This morning.”

“Notice anything unusual?”

“Like what?”

“Anything. Did he seem distracted or nervous?”

“He was … Camara Paki.” Marguerite shrugged, having run out of words that could more accurately describe the man.

Even if Maya was operational, even with her libraries of language codes, Stacia doubted they would have been much help. Still, Stacia had no problem picturing him. “So class was the last time you saw him?”

“Well, he left early.”

“Really? To go where?”

“I don’t know. He just glanced over our workstations, did that odd sniff thing he does, and booked out.”

Marguerite led Stacia around the workstations. The captain traced Paki’s steps, skimming the actual projects. Her true interest was in who was watching her. She didn’t look over at any who gathered to watch the captain at work. She had no idea who might be watching remotely; but she knew if she kept banging on walls long enough, something, or someone, was bound to scurry from the shadows.

“By the way, how’s Bek doing?” Marguerite asked.

Stacia’s chest tightened at the mention of his name, like an icicle had been plunged into her. “The doctors have him resting.”

“Can you let him know that we miss him?” Marguerite twisted her necklace and then straightened it. “That I miss him.”

“I … will.” Stacia recognized that look in her eye. The puppy dog eyes of the first blush of friendship deepening. She hadn’t expected to encounter this, nor the idea that her son’s friend was blossoming into this area of adulthood. Because that meant he was, too. But that was a path she couldn’t afford to wander right now.

What did Paki find? What trail was he on? Who did he threaten? The obvious suspect, Zenith, was a mercenary in a suit. He moved only if his masters ordered him. There was a piece missing. And she needed to rattle more cages to shake something loose.