“What sort of situation?” Hondo interjected without allowing her time to continue. He filled any pause with the resounding thrum of his own voice because he couldn’t help himself. There was always an undercurrent of wariness to working alongside a mzungu man in the Muungano space. As if by his very presence he touched a collective memory the community hadn’t fully healed from. Even he struggled with being one of the few wazungu faces in the space, especially laboring under the idea that, as a member, he represented Muungano. Never quite grasping that each member of the community spoke for themselves. Whether by training or nature, he tended to try to take charge of any room he entered. It was probably that aspect of him that produced everyone’s hesitant caution.

“An investigation,” Paki said. “To be fair, it may be nothing.”

Between Hondo and Paki, Stacia calculated the cost of cutting the next slick-talking man undermining her authority. Lacking anything approaching a poker face, she glared until the thought of any of them interrupting her again—unless she directed them—fled their eyes. No title of command could do what her I-wish-you-would stare could.

“I want you to go over the latest inspection and status reports. Track any glitches. Run diagnostics on every instrument,” Stacia said.

“Yes, ma’am.” Removing the mask of her navsuit, Dina’s hair was shorn low. Though comically short next to Hondo, she was the boss in their relationship. Everyone knew that, especially him.

“That doesn’t sound like a situation we need to be ‘read in’ on. It sounds like a routine maintenance check.” The sardonic note to Hondo’s voice signaled his inability to move without slowing to listen. Critique as commentary.

“And yet, I don’t want you to report to anyone outside of this circle. Check and record any equipment operating outside of design parameters, no matter how small.”

Dina shot Hondo a glance. Despite his higher rank, Hondo hadn’t figured out how to navigate the work space through the lens of his love life. He lowered his head, mumbling, “Yes, ma’am.”

“That could take days.” Paki turned to her, with a sniff of being offended that she didn’t run this part of her request past him first.

“Then you’d better get started. I’d hate to have any more … inefficiencies to my leadership.” As the words drifted from her tongue, Stacia offered up her silent prayer: Lord forgive us our pettiness as we forgive those who have been petty toward us. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, Captain.” The venom Paki attached to her title pleased her.