[Lady]

"And that's when they disowned me," the Old Man said. "None of you know what it's like! You didn't even have families. What would you do if the whole First Order told you you were a filthy traitor, huh?" H-482 gestured expansively with the hand that wasn't holding his second bowl, in the uncoordinated manner of one who was drunk. "How 'bout we go in and ask that guy in there? Huh? I'll bet he knows!"

CL-0745 was standing there silently, head cocked, watching him. His diction had shifted. She could hear some of the Outer Rim twang in his accent, but wasn't familiar enough with the rest to place it. It wasn't the way people sounded when they'd grown up in the Order, that was for sure. There was no way he was drunk. Punch-drunk, maybe, from exhaustion, but she'd never seen anyone this active in such a state. He acted wound up. She really wasn't sure what she was looking at here.

He was loud. Everyone out here was listening to him. Even the closest guard had turned to watch him instead of his quadrant. She needed to stop this. "Old Man, are you going to finish your food or just wave it around?"

"It tastes funny."

The Wookiee made a noise she suspected was a laugh. It actually sounded like he'd literally said, "Har har." It was enough to make her wonder if he could speak Basic if he tried.

Teller's indication of mirth was more recognizable – a few quick shakes of her shoulders and a sway side to side. Kaydel and FL-2216 were more subdued, with a snort from Kaydel and nothing from FL-2216. Teller said to him, "After how much you said you were looking forward to this stuff?"

"What's wrong with it?" CL-0745 had had her portion. She knew what it tasted like, which was like nothing else she'd ever eaten. It had a metallic bite to it that the sensors confirmed. The stuff wasn't healthy to eat long term, but if the wing worked, they needn't worry. Short term, it would fill their bellies. She didn't think they had enough meal bars to feed everyone even one more meal. It was also tough and chewy, which was a struggle the Resistance people didn't seem to share. They weren't as accustomed to processed foods.

"I dunno," H-482 said. "It's plain. It needs some golderoil and salt. Hey, wait, does that survival kit have salt tabs?"

"If I get you some, you'd better finish eating," CL-0745 grumbled as she went up the ramp. "General's orders."

Behind her, she heard Teller ask, "What's golderoil?" and get the answer from H-482, "It's flower oil." Which only prompted, "What's flower oil?" and then from H-482, "It's like basin oil. You don't know what basin oil is either, do you?"

CL-0745 didn't hear the rest. She carefully edged around the sleeping form of DL-8192 to access the survival kit, then dug through it for the little first aid pack that came with it. It wasn't much of a first aid pack, including gauze, tape, a wrap or two, and a couple tubes of ointment. But it came with several types of pills – for purifying water, combating radiation poisoning, supplementing for vitamins, and providing basic minerals. Which was where the salt came in. She located the packet.

She made the slightest gesture to close the pack before noticing something. She picked up the stims container instead. There were two to a cartridge. There was only one in this one. The other was missing – the seal cracked on the plastoid and the vial missing. Her cheeks tightened in a grimace as she knew why H-482 was still awake and acting so odd. If he'd dosed himself at dark, then the stuff would be wearing off about now. And while he'd be crashing into exhaustion soon enough, post-dose jitters and peculiar behavior were normal enough that even CL-0745 had heard of it.

(It helped that her squad did internal security and dealt with substance abuse more often than any front-line combat troop would ever need to bother with.)

She put the stim cartridge back and returned the survival pack to the cabinet. It occurred to her that before she rushed to accusation, there was another option – someone else who had been unsurveilled and awake for a very long time. She looked over at where General Hux was sitting side by side with Commander Dameron, both of them on the same sleeping mat.

(Hers, incidentally. She'd put it off to the side to keep it out of the way after the Jedi quit using it, but someone had swiped it. Dameron, she assumed. She wasn't sure where the other one had gone.) Dameron had slumped over with his head on Hux's shoulder. Hux's head was lolled back in slumber. Their eyes were shut. So … not awake anymore.

But.

The general had declined dinner the night before. Suppressed appetite was a normal side effect of stimulant use. He'd then stayed up all night on overwatch. It let everyone else get some sleep, which was a big help when activated later. CL-0745 and Kaydel had stayed up with him for most of an hour, before he ordered them both out so he could better focus on how to repair the shuttle. It wasn't the same degree of extraordinary effort that the Old Man had put in, but he shouldn't be discounted as a suspect.

At least he was resting now – with the Resistance pilot leaning against him, possibly drooling on him. Yet General Hux had sought him out. He hadn't rested until they were back. His agitation, she realized, didn't have anything to do with stims after all.

She headed back outside and made for a direct confrontation with H-482 after handing over the salt tabs. "Did you take one of the stim doses last night?"

"Stims?"

"Don't play dumb."

"No. Huh-uh." He crumbled the salt tab over his bowl and stayed very focused on it.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Lying to your superior officer is a far bigger offense than taking controlled substances without authorization. You were told to prepare the packs." Which could be argued was 'authorization', although even then he should have told her.

"Um. Yeah. I did." He looked confused and uncertain. Like he was desperately trying to think and failing. It reminded her of that second lieutenant they'd busted who reeked of death-stick smoke, trying to pull her drug-addled wits together enough to think of a good excuse for the stench. "But, uh, not, not lying," he said. "I wasn't playing dumb."

"Ah. The technicality defense," she said in disapproval. "I wouldn't have expected that of you." He hunched a little. She went on, "Finish your food and rack out in five, or I'll ask you the direct question again. Got it?"

He straightened, realizing she was giving him an out. "Sir. Yes sir!"

She rolled her eyes at the sir sandwich and turned to Teller and Flag. "Start cleaning up. Smother the fire." She turned to the perimeter guard who was still allowing himself to be distracted by them. She snapped at him, "Private, eyes on your quadrant!"

"Yes sir." FN-9048 jerked around and faced the right way.

Behind her, she heard the musical sound of Kaydel laughing. She turned to see the woman collecting up plates and heading in. Kaydel shot her a friendly smile that made the back of CL-0745's scalp itch in a weird, creeping pleasure, like getting a compliment that embarrassed you. She turned back to her squad and said gruffly, "Perimeter guards, pull it in."