“One gets better results with honeyed words than a vinegar voice.” - quote attributed to Hannah Lazo, World-Premier 2037-2041

The bamboo swayed in the wind. Martin’s words faded away.

Berenice, as she was called, shook her head.

“That’s your plan?”

Saying it out loud had revealed to Martin a few flaws, but surely it couldn’t be that bad?

“You don’t have a plan. You have at best a distraction. If you go around the mountain to divert the forces guarding the opening - and we don’t whether there is one - I will be alone.”

“Which would allow you to sneak inside!”

“The drone senses would-“

“-be focused at me, which would buy you time needed to get the Chassis. Being alone is the whole point!”

Their eyes locked. Martin realised that she was taller than he.

“I still think the advantage gained by a distraction is less than that provided by actual numbers.”

Martin sighed. There was no winning with someone so stubborn. “Let’s compromise and get closer, then we decide?”

Berenice nodded.

They trailed through the thicket of bamboo, pausing as an ancillary wing of Host detached from the smoking pillar that rose from the remnants of the mountain.

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Searching for something to say, Martin picked the subject closest in time.

“Why’d you do it?” He had to ask about Renaldo. Above, a bird screeched.

She glanced back. “Do what?”

“Renaldo. Everyone else just stared. But you…”

They came out of the thickets and halted before their new vista; a waterlogged meadow. The oval terminated before a ridge, where stands of pine stood sentinel.

Berenice stared at the wetland. “Do you remember what Sviratham said? About Renaldo’s courage?”

Martin dipped a branch in the shallow fluids surrounding them. He wouldn’t put it past the makers of the habitat to pour acid or something similar in a wetland that was supposed to be filled with water. The branch, luckily, was unharmed.

“Something about his mouth?”

“The other part,” Berenice curtly said, shielding her brow from errant mosquitoes.

“A fire.”

“A fire,” she repeated.

“Do you know where Sviratham sent Renaldo?”

The way Berenice stood, the lack of warmth in her voice-

-and Martin remembered the look on Renaldo’s face - that of fear, the smell of sulphur.

“Somewhere with fire. And smoke.”

“A volcano,” she corrected,”where Renaldo re-experienced one of the worst events of his life.” The conversation stopped. A rabbit made a sound, and dandelions danced in a twirl next the wetland. Martin considered a teacher that would make a student suffer, merely to make a point. If it would make them better Proxies…but he wondered whether if it only served to make them harder Proxies.

Berenice pointed. “There.”

Martin’s eyes followed one dainty finger. At first he saw a shimmering surface, a reflected twilight sky. Then, just breaking the surface, were circles. Ten of them. Through the water Martin made out their lengths. Poles.

They crossed the surface of the lake, Martin entertaining the thought that this wasn’t too bad. If one discounted the mountain, which was closer now. They made landfall on a sand beach, and began climbing the right side of the ridge.

He wondered; could one rent an habitat?

The hot wind blew a sliver of ash over the ridge and straight into Martin’s eyes and Berenice cried out. “Quiet!”

He bit down on his tongue. Slow breaths.

SHRR.

He swallowed. Berenice, who was first, had heard it before him. She peered over the ridge, instantly withdrawing her head.

“What is it it?”

“A mechaloid. Big one,” she mouthed.

“Do we go with the surprise or…”

“That thing is as big as a car. You run away from it and it will kill you midstride.”

“So, we go around it then?”

“Around, and-“

“Come and get me ugly!”

Both Martin and Berenice stopped. That had been neither of them. As one, they looked above the ridge. They crawled up to the edge, and what they saw had them speechless.

The mechaloid, a member of the Host made in the likeness of a man with indistinct, mannequin features was staring at a young woman.

She was wearing shorts and a sports-bra, using her red t-shirt to taunt the Host. Martin was pretty sure it was as confused as they were.

“Well, come on big boy! Or is it big girl?”

The woman moved, sprinting through the pine forest, up and down the ridges. The mechaloid tilted its head - muscles bunching up - and traversed a distance of two tram-lengths in a single jump.

“Still think you could have run away?”