That was the soldier’s politest way of telling her to fuck off. Park wanted to resist it, to stand up to him. But she scanned his face and saw the sullen gray eyes, the tightly-curled hair, the blocky head scraped clean of fat and kindness. And she knew that it was not a conflict worth winning. He’d find some way to retaliate in the future. “Come,” she said softly to Jimex.

The android hesitated, then nodded. “Good night, Sergeant Boone,” he said.

Boone was watching Jimex with a grin on his face. “You see that, clunker?” he said, lowering his tone to a horror-story-teller’s sotto voce. “Your master knows when to leave well enough alone. Follow her example, or I might just zap you with this!”

He pulled out the gun and pointed it at Jimex’s face. Jimex looked at Park as if expecting her to tell him when to flinch. Park was speechless with horror. She felt her heel turn, felt her body hurrying itself away from the threat. There was a hot prickling between her shoulders, as if her system expected the shot at any moment; as if it was already anticipating the crackling, blood-boiling blow. Her heart thundered in her ears. Boone saw her fear, and he chuckled softly to himself as she left. Park fled down the corridor with his laugh following her, nipping at her heels like a hound.

—

“I want you to stay away from him,” she told Jimex later, after he had escorted her to her office. “In fact, tell all the androids to, if they can help it. He’s—volatile. If he does decide to shoot you with that thing, it’s game over for you.”

“I didn’t know we were playing a game,” Jimex intoned. He seemed unaffected by their encounter with Boone.

Park wanted to shake him. God damn these lower-tier models, she thought. Sometimes they were so stupid. He made her miss Glenn, and she hated that; resented it even more than the danger he kept putting himself in.

“I’ve been told by the other crewmembers that you keep bothering them,” she said aloud. “Why can’t you just clean the ship?”

“I have,” Jimex said, blinking. “Deck A is ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent—”

“Then at least stay silent when you’re done,” Park said, exasperated. “Don’t talk to anyone except me, unless you absolutely need to. It’s for your own good.”

Jimex took a while to process this. “I understand,” he said finally. His pupils focused and unfocused as his brain adapted to the new directives.

“Good,” Park said. She could feel a headache coming on. “Now, just—go somewhere, and enter sleep mode. Don’t come out of it until morning. Or unless you see Holt.”

“Understood,” Jimex said. He stood up and regarded her for a long moment, expressionless. “Thank you, Dr. Park.”