“Congratulations,” said Jackson. “You have now survived combat in VZ.”
“Is there a medal for that?” Talia said.
“Yes,” Jackson said. “They mail it out to you.”
“Huh,” Gilly said. “So this is what VZ feels like.”
“What does it feel like?” Talia said.
“Different. I dunno. I guess it’s not, logically. But it feels different. Don’t you think?”
“Yes,” she said, validating his feelings. “There’s something about it.”
“Feels like the same old shit to me,” Anders said. “We sit around holding our dicks while the ship takes care of business.”
“Don’t be gross, Anders,” she said, reaffirming boundaries.
“That’s enough,” Jackson said. “Engagement closed.”
* * *
—
She caught Anders before he could make it back to his cabin. “What’s wrong with you?”
He squinted at her. It had been a long time since Anders had had a haircut, and she wasn’t a fan of his beardy look, which had progressed from rugged survivalist to grizzled homeless. Even though they couldn’t send clips home, they were supposed to still be recording them, so this wasn’t ideal. “What?” he said.
“We just talked about this.”
“Gilly?”
“Yes, Gilly.”
He rubbed his face. “Beanfield, I feel like dirt. It slipped out. Can you give me a break?”
“You are not to tell Gilly. I’m very serious about this. Why do you feel like dirt?”
“Gilly hit me in the head with a ninja star.”
She stared.
“It’s fine. It won’t happen again. I just want to get some sleep.”
“I’m pulling your medical records, FYI.”
“Aw,” he said. “Don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
He rolled his tongue around his gums. “You’re going to see some hydrexalin usage.”
“Shit, Paul,” she said.
“We get serious wounds. The ship suggests it.”
“I’m banning that game.”
“Beanfield. It’s all I have. We’re in VZ, what do you want me to do?”
He had her there. The reality was, Anders needed something. He couldn’t be left to his own devices. All his devices had built-in self-destructs.
“No more hydrexalin, though,” she said. “I’m cutting that off. You need anything serious, you ask me or Jackson for authorization.”
“What am I supposed to do when I get hit? Grin and bear it?”
“Figure it out,” she said. “You need a challenge.”
* * *
—
Anders was getting hydrexalin, a lot of it. After reviewing the records, she became sure he’d constructed this new game for the primary purpose of going to Medical and getting drugged up. She went back through the timestamps of his visits and found they lined up neatly with other Anders behavioral incidents, including the time he’d dropped his pants in briefing. It was good that she’d caught this.
She tweaked her VZ plan. “Stop me if this is crazy,” she told Jackson in Con-1, a tiny conference room on A Deck, during a briefing. Captain and Life Officer only; these were for discussing crew behavior. “I’m thinking of instituting a hug program.”
Jackson said nothing for long seconds. Jackson was not completely convinced of the need for a Life Officer in the first place, Talia had picked up. She gave off an unmistakable everything-about-you-is-useless vibe. But, you know, Service disagreed, so.
“We could do it a few different ways,” Talia said. “A special event, if we wanted to make a thing of it, or a new informal routine to end regular social meetings. I’m leaning toward the latter, even though it means blurring the lines of authority. To, you know, slip it under the radar. So it’s not so artificial.”
“A hug program,” Jackson said.
“Yes.” She tried to wait Jackson out and failed. “I think we need it.”
“Why?”
Because I’m a little worried that we’re losing Anders, Jolene. That we’re going to have an engagement and only three people will call in. Some things about the crew, like Anders’s hydrexalin usage, Jackson couldn’t be told, because it would only undermine her relationship with them. Jackson was intelligent and determined and an