Rick Tavish stepped off the last rung of his personal Space Ranger rocket ship. The puff of red-orange dust settled to the ground as he took his first step onto the planet. Some of it stained his off-white boots. His eyes sought the bent landing strut from his landing. Knew that landing felt wrong. He shrugged. Any landing you can walk away from. The bent landing strut would be a mark on his record of his first solo patrol. He was away from the main Space Ranger Station surrounding Luna. Excitement buzzed in his chest like bees. He was ready for his first solo patrol. Go by the numbers, stick to the schedule, and the rest of the solo patrol will succeed.

The Plains of Mars were cold and barren. Rick scanned the horizon with his suit’s instruments, which gave him details on the surrounding area. The air was thin but breathable. With the dust settling from his landing, none of the rust-tinged dust would affect his breathing, his suit’s movements, or diagnostics. He would have to test himself every night to make sure, but he would only be on the planet for a few days before he was on to the next leg of his patrol. The bubble helmet lit up with a soft green fluorescence to assure him that the air was breathable before he removed it. By the numbers. It was a regulation that he wanted to respect, not tearing his helmet off like he did in training. And he had been given demerits for it. He touched the sides of his helmet and hit the catches. There was a hiss of pneumatic air, and then the dry, thin air of Mars struck him hard. His mouth and nose felt the sudden dryness, and the sinus pain was enough for a quick headache that made him blink back tears.

It was strange, breathing air on another planet. A range of foreign smells struck him. The rust-tinged air was something his brain would filter out soon. The incredibly dry air already robbed his throat of moisture, causing him to grab his canteen and squirt a dose of water into his mouth. Then he turned his mind toward getting his patrol under way.

Turning to his ship again, he smiled. Let’s get this started. He hit a button on his left gauntlet. A side hatch in the rocket’s sleek silver exterior split open. A large multi-hinged robotic limb lowered his large silver and red gear pod to the red soil.

The gear pod opened when it touched down, unsealing itself like a gift that unwrapped for Rick. It was a standard-issue pod, one that any Space Ranger with basic training could use to survive the in the climes and environs of the Known Worlds that the Space Rangers patrolled and protected. Several small shelves split open and slid out and up, creating a multi-levelled shelf for him to choose from. It reminded him of his grandfather’s ancient carpenter’s toolbox that he carried whenever he went to make a repair. When asked why he took the whole thing for a simple job, his grandfather said, “Never know what tool you might need.”

Rick’s eyes skipped over several rows, since those held items or replacements needed for planets like Venus or the Jovian and Saturnine moons for air units and rebreathers. He would need those for the later legs of his patrol, but for now, he could ignore them. His eyes then went to the food rations and the water converter and purifier. He took up the purifier, an oval attachment that clipped to the back of his suit and attached to his belt. Then, he heard the internal clicking of his suit. It would draw excess moisture from the air to help fill the small emergency canteen, even recycle any other moisture expelled from his body. Once it had been an all-in-one system, but when the modular design had been found to work better, the Rangers took to keeping the compartments separate until truly needed. Then he slipped food ration packets into their compartments at his lower back. Finally, he took up his Tellic ray pistol, a sleek pistol with a blunted muzzle and a DNA scanner in the grip. It connected to his space suit’s gauntlet, which had an override to the scanner. Yet he still needed to activate it or the ray pistol wouldn’t work at all.

He initiated the sequence for the Tellic, felt the suit’s right palm buzz with a slight electrical field as the DNA scanner readied itself to scan the weapon. He detached the Tellic from his gauntlet and took up the grip. A green dot appeared on the butt end of the Tellic. Ready to use, if I have a need to. He slipped the raygun into the holster hanging a few inches below his right hip. It was a quickdraw design, though the Space Rangers weren’t to draw without need. Without a great need, his instructors had drilled deep, deep into his head.

But he was on a planet torn apart by civil strife. It was one of the reasons he had chosen Mars to start his solo patrol. It would need the help of a Ranger. The nearest city was Gods’ Rest, over a thousand miles from where he was. It was nestled in the shadow of Olympus Mons, And it would be one of the last stops of his patrol. The human cities of Gods’ Rest, Janden Gap, and Pyrrc needed the help from the Space Rangers once and again to help with the Green Martians and Golgoro kingdoms. He was here to mediate and to protect. The patrols were mandatory, and Rick felt proud to be on Mars. It had been his dream to come to the red planet for so long, and he was finally here. The way the missions were set up, Ranger Central Command weighed every decision and every need versus what a Ranger was capable of. Even with that in mind, Rick wasn’t positive he was the right one, deep down. He still felt too green, though his enthusiasm and courage pushed those doubts aside when he was first given the mission.

No, I’m ready. Command wouldn’t have given me this patrol if they thought I wasn’t ready.

Standing alone on the planet’s surface, knowing that the only one he could rely on was himself, was when the true gravity of his position hit him. I’m alone on this planet. There were contacts in the human cities, true. Even in the two kingdoms, there were contacts Rick could tap if he needed to. However, he had to rely on himself as uch as possible while on the planet.

The communicator blinked on his right gauntlet. He tapped the icon, and it created a bust holo with the striking facial features of Tsan Xi, the head of Ranger Command. “Everything going according to regulations, Ranger Tavish?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, giving her a salute. “I have the gear pod unloaded. Was about to break out the rocket sledge.”

“And the rocket pack backup?” she asked, arching a thin eyebrow.

“Yes ma’am, was about to attach that too.” His cheeks heated over having to be reminded.

Without missing a beat, Xi said, “Rangers lead the way.”

“Rangers lead the way,” Rick said as the holo disappeared.

With help from the rocket’s other loading arm, he settled the rocket sledge to the sand. All the while, the phrase he and Commander Xi had spoken rang in his head. He knew the origins of the Rangers, or at least where the phrase had come from, was during the dark days of World War II and the landing on Normandy. A unit of Army Rangers had lost their captain during the first onslaught of landing under fire. A general, Norman Cota, had found them, told him who they were, and he’d said, “Rangers lead the way.” The phrase became the Rangers’ motto.

After the war, and after the eventual forced peace with the Communists of the U.S.S.R. against the common threat of the invasion of squidheads from Europa, Earth had been united in a single vision within ten years of the end of World War II. All were focused on one thing, to reach for the stars. And the Rangers led the way. Today, a hundred years after Normandy—almost to the day—they still led the way to the stars beyond Pluto to the other Known Worlds. His patrol was one small part of a larger destiny of the Rangers and the Coalition in general.

He took a step toward the sledge but had forgotten about gravity for a second. His movement launched him forward a good foot more than he wanted, barking his shin against the sledge. His suit absorbed the impact. The embarrassment still stung. Why are you being so green, ranger? Shaking his head, he muttered to himself, “Head in the game, Rick.”

Turning to focus on the sledge, he attached the rocket pack rig to the harness and settled onto the sledge. He took a quick sip of water from his canteen, took a deep draught of the dry and dusty air, and replaced the helmet. Once it locked on, he tapped a series of codes into his left gauntlet, and the ship locked itself up tight. Even the gear pod wrapped itself back up and waited for him to return from his patrol.

Try to remember where you parked, he thought to himself with a smirk. He laughed at the small joke and settled onto the sledge. He twisted the throttle of the rocket sledge and shot off toward the first stop on his patrol.