The vehicle's door slid aside and Chris stepped out, hands spread, giving his most godly wave to the savages crouching in the ever-present saltbrush shrubs.

The shoulder-high, spiny growth blocked Chris's view of most of the party of cavemen. No doubt the rest were creeping around him, getting behind him. Trying to ambush him? Idiots. Chris blinked, the vehicle's door shut, and his suit flexed. Let the natives attack. They'd be in for a surprise.

"There Trals is," ...