PROLOGUE

Star Command: unnamed Solar System UPP-0937Q.

A brilliant light flashed overhead, blinding Buzz Lightyear. His eyes focused. He saw turquoise-colored walls of smooth stone, as if he sat in a deep, canyon spring. No, the walls are made of metal, he corrected.

Buzz was strapped to a chair, wearing nothing save a thin gown made of plastic. When was he stripped of his trousers, hat, and boots? Where was Jessie? Buzz thought. The turquoise-colored room swam before him. Two people in white hazmat suits worked over him, speaking in a way he hadn't heard in ages.

"Identify your code please," The first person said, a metal tablet and stylus in hand.

"I'm Buzz Lightyear, an honorary lawman of Fe. Howdy, gents."

The man in the white hazmat suit wrote on his tablet.

Buzz shook his head. "No, no…Star Command ID code 01.02.0037. Buzz Lightyear, Space Ranger, sir."

The man in white scribbled more notes and disappeared from his view. Buzz glanced to his side. There was a silver metal tray and tools. His blood ran cold. Fear pricked his senses, made him more alert.

"Where am I?" Buzz demanded. He strained against the straps on his wrists. His Phaser was visible, but the light on it was silent, black. He could have sworn it was blinking not too long ago when he was with Jessie… But what happened after that?

"As you can see Commander, Space Ranger Lightyear is still disoriented. The extraction and immunization process is still on track. But his vitals indicate high levels of stress and disorientation, suggestive of trauma. The cause is unknown."

The second hazmat suit spoke to a screen that projected a grim-faced man with salt and pepper hair and a clean-cut beard. The man glanced Buzz's way. Buzz stilled. He felt respect forced out of him, out of habit. Buzz didn't understand why, but he knew this man.

"What happened to your ship, Space Ranger? Is it recoverable or compromised?" The man on the screen commanded.

The ship? It was in ruins, a black molten mess, dead and buried. It's not even worth melting into kettles or cowpokes. If I hadn't burned it, I wouldn't be here. I could have stayed. This is my fault, my fault...

Sadness washed over Buzz Lightyear. He thought of her again.

"Well?" The Commander prompted, impatient.

Buzz swallowed, his lips locked tight. How could I tell him? Would he understand at all? He didn't break his gaze from the man on screen. The Commander's eyebrows pinched. He nodded to the second hazmat suit.

"Detach Space Ranger protocols. Buzz Lightyear is on medical leave until further notice."

"Yes, sir."

Buzz felt the first hazmat suit prick him in the arm with a needle attached to a long, red wire. His arm went slack, fingers numb. The Phaser sat unblinking on the white gauntlet. Buzz couldn't feel his arm. He could barely move his shoulder. Panic set in. Cold, liquid tingles coursed through his veins from his Phaser arm, straight to his heart. Buzz clenched his teeth, strained against his bonds. The second hazmat suit blocked his vision. A clear mask settled on his nose and mouth. Buzz smelled a strange gas. His breath came fast. And then, one by one, things clicked into place. His heart and mind drifted to a different place.

A thick mane of fiery red hair. Crumpled sheets. A locked wooden door. An empty bed, in a cluttered, yet spotless cabin. Jessie's smile.

Buzz Lightyear passed out.