[h3]The Lone Survivor[/h3]

	The woman burst out laughing at his - admittedly - cluelessness at the little drone she had brought out. It gave him a pause, during which he just awkwardly waited until she had calmed down enough to be able to speak uninterrupted once more. 
	At that point, she explained that "the only one in there was her", whatever that stood for. In any case, she had assured him that "Aitch Cee" did not have a mind of its own. The implication of actual thinking machines potentially getting into her head were no good, however... Anderekians did not possess such technology, nor did - as far as he knew - Trenians, though someone else might. And what would the consequences of that be? Could they perhaps read her thoughts and retrieve any plans of action she had overheard? Commandeer her and turn her against her own?
	He studied her face, the subtle differences between her real and artificial eye - which, on closer look, appeared to be socketed in, somehow, rather than being a functionless glass eye just there for appearance's sake. The metal box embedded in her skull she had lightly tapped with her finger. The scars on her face.
	"What is 'this'?" he inquired. "How do you control ... him? Your right eye, it is not just glass, either, is it?"
	The small drone went off flying, and Kay-Gee meticulously went over to another part of her cart, finally retrieving the aforementioned crispbread and dried meat (the latter thankfully suitably non-hostile, unlike his joking guess earlier had predicted). The former Anderekian soldier just semi-automatically held out a gauntleted hand to accept whatever Kay was handing him. 
	Feed the birds? If she said so... He hoped they found crispbread at least palatable enough. Should he break it into pieces? The one he had actually seen - and shot at - had been pretty damn big. In the end, he figured that about half the size of his palm for a piece should do (that would be, what, a beakful for one of those things), and set to snapping the thin loaves into pieces (eventually gathering all but the two pieces into one hand) as he took a few steps away from Kay and her cart, vainly scanning the trees.
	"Uh, birds?" He asked the invisible feathered fiends, who he only assumed were there, watching, judging, always. Otherwise, he was quote literally speaking to the trees. Even if present, they probably did not understand a word what he was saying, but anything that could revoke their ire... "I am sorry for shooting at one of you; I did not realize they were not a drone ... plane, a machine. Please accept my apologies, and the gift of food, and let me be at peace once more."
	He felt [i]ridiculous.[/i] But nevertheless, with those words spoken, he cast the pieces of crispbread in his one hand across the land - horizontally, lest one of them actually thought he was purposefully trying to hit one of them with a projectile of some description and they all began their verbal chastisement again. 
	"Hope you are right and they'll at least get what I was trying to do," he noted to Kay as he returned to the cart, hesitating for a second, not sure whether to just leave Kay to controlling the drone, and then opting to simply sit down next to the cart, his back to its side. "And water would be nice, I think... Ironic how you can be both soaking wet [i]and[/i] thirsty at the same time, isn't it?" He guessed it was at least [i]objectively[/i] better than drying up in half a day if left under the sun. Like a frog or some such creature. Did frogs ever actually drink, or did they just soak up all the water they needed through their skin?
	At the same time, he fumbled with some manner of connectors on his neck, until he finally could lift his helmet off his head and carefully set it down next to himself, absently trying to wipe his forehead against the back of his gauntlet and squinting his gray-blue eyes until they could adjust to the lighting conditions outside. 
	He was young - looked to be around twenty -, with medium-short blonde hair and the beginnings of stubble adorning his square jaw. In the lack of anything better to do, and to use his time optimally (never mind that he actually [i]was[/i] hungry), he took a bite of one of the dried mutton strips. 
	"How far are we?" he asked between bites. "You said the computer guys are a couple dozen kilometers from here - farther, then? Not sure the weather would hold until then - even if it won't start pouring again, static going up like that usually isn't a good sign."