“If you touch the bark, do not lick your fingers afterwards,” are the first words of advice out of Lynne’s mouth.

They’ve been walking for nearly an hour and Myrha thinks it was a phenomenally bad idea to go exploring with a machine that is possibly not programmed to feel fear.

“Thanks ever so,” Myrha grumbles.

Lynne doesn’t rise to the bait; she’s too busy checking the ledger that denotes access to the campsites. They’re stopped at campsite four and it seems that Spinner didn’t touch this place either.

“He has not checked in at any of the first four campsites.”

“Well good for him, he wants to make a new one.”

“Then he should have at least left tags on the trees so that others could follow his path, in case something did happen.”

Lynne begins to lead the way to campsite five. The entire jungle smells completely disgusting, and Lynne carefully tells her which plants to avoid touching (“that one causes painful blisters on human skin”), and what creatures to look out for (“if you hear a sound resembling chimes, quickly cover your ears; that is the sound of a bird of prey that puts its victims to sleep with its song, and then eats them where they lay.” “That’s messed up.”).

Everything is bright green and red and orange and the bark looks slick and sticky. She has pants and an elbow-length jacket, so she watches her wrists to make sure no strange bugs decide to land on her and eat her skin. Myrha’s wishing she wore gloves. Or maybe she should’ve just come in a complete protection suit.

There’s a trail between the campsites, however, something Myrha’s grateful for, though she wasn’t expecting it.

“I thought this place was all about solitude and isolation and exploring new frontiers?” Myrha asks as she tramps along the flattened ground, “Don’t trails and campsites defeat the purpose?”

“This is also an island that has been relatively unexplored and has been the site of past chemical contamination. The hotel must conform to safety standards for insurance purposes, as it owns some of the land and rents out equipment. When venturing into the rest of the preserve, explorers should heed safety procedures.”

“Wait, preserve?”

“Yes. After the ban was lifted and colonization efforts failed, Bartin campaigned to make the rest of the jungle, and indeed the rest of the island, a preserve for wildlife and exploration. The only part of Lieval that can be colonized now is the south beach strip, where the refueling station and hotel are.”

“When you say you do research…you really do research, don’t you?”

“It is part of my job to know as much as possible to better inform passengers of their destination.”

“You didn’t say any of this on our flight!”

“No one asked.”

Myrha gives her a shrewd glance, “But wouldn’t it be more efficient to anticipate the needs of guests and mention some of this during the flight? Especially the part about the chemical contamination?”

“How would I know what information to impart and what to keep to myself? I have a wealth of information; to recite all of it could possibly take hours.”

She’s not sure if androids have ‘common sense’ or not, but they can surely judge the importance and relevancy of certain types of information. Can’t they?

“You know, that sounds suspiciously like a load of shit. I think you like to learn just because you’re curious. It’s not about being knowledgeable for guests at all.”

“Believe what you want,” she says loftily.

“I will, thanks.”

When they get to campsite five, the ledger reveals that Spinner hasn’t been there either.

“Since Fossam is staying at campsite six, it seems he was right: Spinner has just…disappeared.”

Myrha doesn’t think it’s as dire as all that, “Maybe he went to take a leak and got lost?”

“Then we should attempt to locate him.”

“What are you: a rescue droid?”

“It is my duty to ensure the comfort and safety of all guests.”

“Yeah, on the shuttle.”

“Then I will stop pointing out dangerous life forms to you.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

Lynne’s already walking down the path to campsite six, and Myrha doesn’t even ask why they’re going there, just scrambles to keep up.

“I mean, you should keep telling me these things,” she says, “about the dangerous life forms. Like the snake that disguises itself as an exposed root.”

“Yes, you did almost trip over it, didn’t you?”

“Exactly. You saved my life,” she bats her eyelashes.

“Oh, I thought since you weren’t on the shuttle it wasn’t my duty to ensure your safety anymore, isn’t that right?”

“No, you definitely should. Because you like me.”

“I do?”

“Yes. I am extremely likeable and very pretty. You want to keep me alive.”

Myrha’s sweating and panting, but she does her best to throw Lynne a rather sexy, convincing smile. Lynne glances at her out of the side of her eyes, her stride not pausing.

“You are attempting to flirt with me.”

“Woah, way to kill the mood.”

They walk a few more paces and then Myrha sputters, “Wait, attempting?”

“We are at campsite six,” Lynne announces.

Myrha follows her as Lynne double-checks the ledger. No Spinner.

“What do you mean ‘attempt’? I was flirting with you. Didn’t it work?” Myrha puts her hands on her hips.

“As a stewardess, I have been on the receiving end of many such attempts, and yours was pathetic at best.”

“Well,” Myrha plants herself in front of the android, “that’s because I wasn’t giving it my all. If I was going to flirt and seduce you, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Is that so?” Lynne raises an eyebrow and says each word slowly.

“Yeah,” she gives her a cock-sure grin, “I spend most of my free nights seducing humans and alien visitors.”

“Yes, you’ve implied you’re rather promiscuous.”

“I even snagged an alien at the port.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“Yes. You’re talking to an interstellar playgirl!”

“I’ll be sure to be wary,” Lynne says dryly and steps around her.

Myrha twists her torso to watch her, “Where are you going?”

“I am going to search for Spinner.”

“Right, but he could be anywhere. Don’t you need like, supplies? Clothes? A map? Something?”

Lynne gives her a look that says ‘android, remember?’

“My internal positioning system will track my steps. I will be able to find my way back to this spot very easily. If that fails, then I can always rely on my homing device which will lead me directly to the shuttle.”

“But where are you even going to start looking?”

“I thought I’d start by going to the abandoned research facility.”

She disappears through the trees and Myrha wonders if, at this point, she should even be surprised anymore.

She races to catch up with Lynne, “You know where it is?”

“No.”

“But you just said—”

“I am able to approximate its location because I looked at a map of the island before embarking on this flight. The map was not to scale, it was little more than an artist’s rendering, but it contained landmarks and rough details of contamination zones.”

Myrha tiptoes around a particularly hungry-looking root and then scrambles to make it back to Lynne’s side. There isn’t a path anymore, and Myrha isn’t fond of all the suspicious looking flowering plants that could burn her flesh.

“But why would Spinner try to find the facility?”

“The lights,” Lynne says, as if in explanation.

“That made no sense.”

“Where else would they come from? Spinner must have found the facility.”

“Okay, Nancy Drew, that’s enough leaps of logic here—”

“Nancy Drew?”

And the way Lynne stops and cocks her head is just all kinds of adorable.

“Yeah,” Myrha flails weakly, “she’s a fictional character. A girl detective. She’s not known on Earth anymore, but she has a strong fanbase on Boes.”

“Many cultures on Boes seem to find Earth things fascinating.”

“Well, yeah, it was all a part of the cultural exchange thing that went on years ago, to promote peace after the war. Humans are obsessed with a lot of Boesian stuff too.”

“That was almost two hundred years ago,” the android frowns.

“Yeah, I know. Ever since then we’ve become bosom buddies with Boes. From mortal enemies to allies. It’s great, even if Boesians pick the oddest stuff to fixate on: like sunflower bread, really?”

“The peace you enjoy,” she continues walking, “was of course delivered, in part, by Mio Wy—”

“Yeah, nominated himself as the first ambassador to Earth and the Boesian government got pissed and tried to assassinate him twelve times—”

“How do you know this?” Lynne asks.

“Basic history, here.”

Lynne huffs, “Are all playgirls this knowledgeable about basic history?”

“First of all: you’re a judgmental asshole; just because I’m a playgirl doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. Second: Wy wrote ‘Poems for Peace’. Is there anyone in the known galaxy who hasn’t heard of it?”

Lynne doesn’t respond immediately and Myrha thinks ha, take that.

“You seem rather enamored with poetry,” Lynne says eventually.

“So do you. Odd habit, for an android.”

“Maybe you do not know as much about androids as you think.”

“Just like you don’t know that much about interstellar playgirls?”

Lynne glares at her; Myrha grins.

“I could teach you more, if you like,” Myrha waggles her eyebrows, and she’s sure she’s about to get smacked.

Lynne just laughs. Who knew androids could laugh? Myrha feels, stupidly, like she’s accomplished something.