Cal’s hut was nearby the cave entrance. It was a small brick structure that extended out from the face of the dome. It reminded me of those mushrooms that grew on the trunks of trees.

  It was a single room; simple and clean. The place smelled of spice— something close to cinnamon but also floral. I liked it.

  One whole wall was a glass-less window that looked out on the jungle. At the right angle I could see the dragons darting above the tree tops.

  Below the window was a rough-cut wooden table spanning the whole length of the wall. On the windowsill sat clay pots and cups and other small hand crafted things. I could picture him sitting there, eating, and watching the dragons wheel through the open air.

  There was also a bed and a fireplace.

  The hut looked straight out of some ancient civilization with one exception: the stack of electronics sitting in the furthest corner. The panels glowed with power. I saw several comm arrays, old but workable. What his power source was I could only guess. And did all that come with him on that little probe?

  I had more questions for him.

  “Peaceful isn’t it?” Cal said. He sat his basket down on the table.

  “You built all this? In two years?”

  “Sure. What else was I going to do?” He was at the fireplace, building up twigs for a fire.

  “Can I make you some tea?” He held up a rough looking kettle. “I’ve entered the bronze age over on this part of the rock.”

  “Sure. Thanks”

  Once the fire was lit, and the kettle over the flames, he went about the room lighting short stubby candles. They were a welcome light against the strange blue lights of the cave.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “There’s a stool there.” He pointed by the bed. “You can put your helmet over there.” He pointed to a hook by the door.

  It felt good to sit. My legs ached. My whole body ached.

  Blueboy sauntered in and lowered himself down to the middle the room. He took up most of the room in the whole place.

  Cal was at the table. He laid out a leaf three times the size of my hand, then pulled out a fish from the wicker basket, placing it down on the leaf. Nothing looked at all alien about the fish.

  “What is this place?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” he said, after a while. He had a knife and was gutting the fish. “I was told it was a science expedition.”

  “Are you a scientist?”

  He shook his head. “I wasn’t alone. There were three scientists. They pretty much kept to themselves. Me and four others were sent as the muscle.”

  I swallowed. “And they’re…” I let the words drop.

  He nodded but kept working on the fish. “Buried out down there. This is a pretty place. But dangerous.”

  “But that USC probe,” I said. “Back where we crashed. There was just one.”

  He looked up at me frowned. “That was just one of our cryo-sleep pods. You must know about that.”

  I nodded, still not wanting to tell him that space travel changed quite a bit in the last hundred and fifty plus years.

  “We were each jettisoned out individually,” he continued. “Our gear came in on several other containment units.”

  “And you just dragged them all down here?”

  “Not here,” he said, swallowed. “Another place. A few hour hike from here.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  I now had a thousand other questions. But I asked the most important.

  “Can you help me get back?”

  The tea kettle was hissing then and he was at it. “After dinner,” he said, puring two cups. “That sound alright to you?”

  He handed me the hot cup. I smelled it and grimaced.

  “What is it?”

  “Its a root. It’s safe. I’ve been drinking it for over a year. It tastes a lot better than it smells. A good digestive. You hungry?”

  I realized I was starving.

  He clinked my cup and drank. I did the same. It did taste better than it smelled. But barely.

  He turned and went back to the fish.

  “You got anymore fish in there?” I asked. I think I could eat a whole one easily.

  He smiled, pulling out a second fish. “My horoscope said I’d meet a mysterious stranger today.”

  “Your howo-scope?” I said. My mouth turned to mush and I slid from the stool and hit the ground. Blueboy swished his tails once. I could barely feel it on my face.

  Cal stood over me. He face hard set. He held the knife in his hand. “Boy, you’ve got to wake up awfully early to get one over on old Cal Richard.” He put the knife to my throat. “You hear me, son? I know what you want and you aint getting it.”

  “I just want to find Buzz,” I said. But I think it came out more like eye-jush-wan-ta-fin-buz.

  And then there was just darkness.

  I woke up. It felt like a tank had rolled over my head.

  I tried to move but I was tied up. Bound to a tree maybe? I couldn’t quite tell in the darkness or though the pain of my aching head.

  Torches blazed about some makeshift perimeter. But that’s all I could really gather. My vision slid as if I was drunk— like really, really drunk. I shut my eyes. But it was too late. I felt the bile rising up into my chest. I puked. A lot. It got all over me. I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like I could bend over and hack it all up. But I didn’t care. I had more to worry about than some vomit all over me. I was tied up by some military manic. Besides, it actually made me feel a little better.

  I saw then I was stripped down to my skivvies. What the hell, Cal?

  I pulled at my bindings but it did little good.

  I started shouting. I thought of the dragons overhead. Would they hear me? Would they swoop down and pick at me like birds picking at a dead carcass? Were there other things in the jungle? Alien spiders and Alien snakes?

  I wondered these things but barely cared. I felt awful. I puked again and after I leaned my sweating, pounding head back. I thought I would pass out again. Maybe I would have but when I saw the figure there, standing in between the torches, I was jolted back to waking, nearly screaming. I was certain it was Cal even though he wore a strange looking helmet or mask. It was made of metal and must have been handmade. I’ve entered the bronze age over on this part of the rock, he had told me. So he spends his time making bronze tea kettles and bronze masks that look to be fashioned like old totem heads? Though what animal it depicted (if any) I couldn’t tell.

  He walked up to me. Towering over me. I didn’t like anything that was happening.

  “Let me go,” I said. “Please.” It hurt my head to talk. It was like the worst hangover I’ve ever had.

  “Why are you here?” he said, his voice steady, almost ringing through the metal helmet.

  “I told you. To pick up the missing probe.”

  He knelt down to be at my level. “Why are you lying to me?”

  “I’m telling you the truth.”

  He wiggled a finger in the air. “When I told you I’ve been here for two years, why didn’t you correct me?”

  Fuck. “I don’t know,” I said after a while. “I thought it would be a shock or something. C’mon man, just untie me.”

  “You think I’m stupid,” he said.

  I shook my head. That was a bad move. It made me want to puke all over again.

  “I don’t think you’re dumb,” I finally managed.

  “Then tell me, why you’re here.”

  “To pick up the missing pr—” He slapped me. Hard. I saw little white spots in my vision.

  I spit on the ground. I couldn’t see it in the flame light but I tasted blood. Probably a cut lip.

  I glared back at him— I’m actually kinda impressed with myself that I didn’t just shit my pants like I thought I would in a circumstance like this. “Why don’t you tell me why I’m here,” I said in my most bad ass, if-I-was-untied-you’d-be-in-a-world-of-hurt voice I could muster.

  I couldn’t see his face through the holes in the mask, it was too dark, but I imagined that he didn’t quite care for that response. But he didn’t slap me again. It was stupid of me really. This dude was bat shit crazy, he drugged me, tied me up, could do anything to me that he wanted, and I wouldn’t be able to raise a finger to defend myself. But I had a bad day and all I wanted to do was find my friend. Fuck this dude.

  After another moment Cal stood, turned and went out past the circle of light.

  It took some effort not to shout to him to stop, to come back. But the man was crazy. It wouldn’t do any good trying to reason with a maniac.