After a brief respite for water, filling two water skins given by Ghurd’s people, and to take a few small packets of food that Ghurd and his people thrust toward him, he set off to follow the light they had pointed out. The planet had a strange verdant and lush beauty. He had not been to Callisto before, and seeing the primal beauty of the planet, he enjoyed it.

Yet, there were pitfalls as well. A peculiar thing was the red flowers that grew rampant in patches and bunches of ten to fifteen. The stalks looked much like grass but thicker and topped with a blood-red bloom with an eye-like stamen in the center. What was worse was the eldritch way they followed Bors as he moved by them. On more than one occasion, he plucked one. The “eye” of the flower burst from the center of the flower to slowly drift to the ground, then burrow itself in the soft loam. On a whim, Bors grabbed at one when he saw it burst out, only to have it pop in his hand, leaving his palm stinging for the majority of the day.

There were also the panther-like creatures that stalked through the underbrush. Bors heard the first roaring cry as a kind of twilight fell on the first day. The roar caused his blood to surge with the desire to fight or flee. He set his lips in a smirk, knowing what he would do. When the black lion-like creature erupted from the underbrush, Bors was partially ready. He had been expecting the creature to leap out from a small copse of trees to his left, but it leaped out from seemingly nowhere instead. Bors let out a startled grunt as the thing fastened its teeth on his arm, bowling him over. When he slammed to the ground, he could not pull Mother from the baldric in time. His free hand went to his belt, pulling the smaller dagger from his hip and slamming it repeatedly into the throat and neck of the creature. At first, his thrusts were against a phantom creature that was not where he thought.

“Let the pain guide you, bearer,” Mother whispered in his head.

He closed his eyes and let the gnawing pain in his left arm guide his strikes. Moments later, he was able to dispatch the panther-like creature. He bound the wound as he looked down at the carcass of the creature and whispered a quick prayer to the Soul of the Mother before butchering the creature for meat.

He was thankful for it. The Callistians had provided him with fruit and fish, which was good, but the fish was small and Bors was big. He had finished it in the first meal after he had set out. The panther-like creature’s meat would help, he mused while cooking large chunks of it. He did wish he had time to salt or cure more of the meat properly, but there was not much light or heat from the Eye of Jove, and he wasn’t sure how long sun-curing the meat would take.

* * *

On the third day, Bors was in a small vale with a stream running along the center and the eye-like stalks of flowers that continued to stare at him. The flowers unnerved Bors, as though they watched and followed him, and the stinging in his hand waxed and waned if he moved closer to the different patches of flowers. He then caught sight of something shining on the slight path he found himself following and forgot about the flowers for the moment.

It was the body of a prostrate, clothed human, lying on their stomach, unmoving.

Bors cocked an eyebrow as he looked at the unconscious human. The man—at least Bors thought it was a man—was clothed in something that was red and gold. It looked shiny and form-fitting. The shininess had been what drew Bors’s eye. The man had something gripped in one hand that gave Bors pause. It took a moment before Bors realized it was much like the raygun Tosh had used in their travels, except this one looked thicker and not as streamlined. For a moment, he missed his brother Tosh again.

Bors wasn’t sure what to do with the unconscious man. He didn’t look hurt, only unconscious. Bors moved to the body, going to one knee to poke at the unconscious man with a thick finger, and the man groaned in a soft, sleepy way.

Bors shook the man’s shoulder. The red and gold clothed man jerked up and away in a burst of sudden energy. He threw himself backward upon seeing Bors, hitting the soft dirt and grass with a sudden thump on his rump. He brought the raygun to bear on Bors as he fell. Bors waited, holding his hands outward to show they were empty. The man stopped, looking around, confused. “Where . . . where am I? Where’s Al’Kara?” He turned to look squarely at Bors. “What have you done with Al’Kara?” The raygun was now held on Bors more menacingly. “Where is she?”

The words were strange in Bors’s ears. It was like the “civilized” land’s Trade Tongue, yet something sounded off. The words had a strange inflection to them. “You are on a planet of Jove’s Eye,” Bors said, pointing toward the large dark ember that was the Eye of Jove above them.

The man’s hand went to his neck. “Wait! My helmet’s gone. Damn, my suit is gone! How? What is— How can I breathe so easily?” He looked up, then around, with more agitation. His free hand went to his chest, patting around trying to find something. The man gave Bors another look, then lowered the weapon. “I’m sorry for that, training and all. Do you know how I got here?”

Bors shrugged. “I don’t know. Are you hurt?”

“No, only confused,” the man said, looking around. Confusion and fear knitted his brow over his dark brown eyes. He looked to be a head shorter than Bors, though in good health. A moment later, the man finger-raked his dark brown hair and lowered his weapon. “Protocol never covered this, though I hope the suit is still in the ship itself, wherever it is.” He gave Bors a long, appraising look and then holstered his weapon. “I wish I had my suit. I’d be able to figure out more with its instruments.” He gave Bors a smile. “Which moon of Jove?”

“You are an odd one,” Bors said with a small grin. He then offered the odd man his hand up.

“Why do you say that?” the man asked, taking the offered hand. Once he stood, he dusted himself off and gave Bors another smile. “You a native to this moon?”

Bors nodded at the raygun. “You put your weapon away even though you don’t know who I am. And no, I am from Mars.”

“If you were going to attack, you’d have attacked when I was unconscious. Or taken advantage of me while I was unconscious, and I’d never have woken up. I think I’m safe with you.” The man gave Bors a smirk. “Mars, eh? I just left there with Al’Kara.” His brows knit together. “We need to find her.”

“We will find your mate.”

“She’s not my . . . She’s a friend.”

Bors rolled his eyes. He didn’t understand why the “civilized” people had such hang-ups about bedmates or life mates. “Of course. You are honorable.” The man didn’t seem to understand Bors’s words. “Have I confused you, man?”

“You say I’m honorable because I didn’t shoot you? That sounds like good manners,” the man said with a shrug. “Plus, not my style to shoot without knowing why I’m shooting. What’s your name?”

“Bors, of the Hidden Mountain.”

“This doesn’t look like the Tharsis Plains,” the man said, looking around while rubbing at his chin.

“It’s not. We are on the dark planet of Callisto, watched over by Jove personally, but I have given you my name,” Bors said, waiting for the man to name himself.

“I’m Rick Tavish, Space Ranger,” Rick said, a hand extending toward Bors. “A pleasure, Bors.”

Bors cocked his head to the side. “I have never heard of the Space Rangers. Where does that tribe reside?” Bors clasped Rick’s hand and squeezed the thick, eldritch, metal gauntlet on his wrist.

Rick gave a small laugh. “I suppose the Rangers are my ‘tribe,’ but if you tell that to the commander, she’ll rip you a new one. Verbally, of course.” He started to tap away at a small device on his wrist. “That’s strange. I can’t get any reading of my ship. Or of any Ranger buoys.” He started to push more buttons. “This makes no sense. I wonder what . . . damn, Al’Kara.” He shook his head. “She needs to be our top priority. Have you seen anyone else?”

“No,” Bors said. “We can look.”

“I only hope Al’Kara is alive and close by,” Rick said as he started to move away from Bors.

“What are Ranger buoys?” Bors asked.

“Satellites in space that relay communications to the rest of the Consortium. Wait, I’m getting a very, very weak signal coming from space . . . and one from the mountains to the north of us.”