Echo Drift -3

The sun rises over Marusara, bleeding orange light through the Martian dust. The junkyard looks like much of the surrounding landscape. Red dust covers most of the old vehicles and equipment in the yard. Like Mars was starting to consume it all.

Sojourn, not having had much sleep, removes the panel and crawls out of hiding. From the cockpit of the Interstellar, he watches the guard shift change. When the coast is clear, he slides out of the ship, moving low and slow like a shadow.

He hops the back fence, dusts himself off, and casually walks up the front gate like he’s just arrived from breakfast. He cheerfully walks to the service window “Morning!” he says.

A sign bolted to the gate reads: “NO TRESPASSING. ALL DEALS FINAL.” Behind a dingy front window sits a half-awake yard clerk, slumped beneath a blinking sign: NEW CUSTOMERS – SIGN IN. The clerk perks up, eyeing Sojourn over his steaming mug. His works come out grumpy and tired. “Good mornin’ to you, sir. What can I help you with?” He replies, “Lookin’ for a hauler with some legs.”

The Clerk responds a little more enthusiastic,

“Yeah? Let’s take a look, out back. You know I get people coming in here all the time wanting parts and random things I never even heard of. It's really rare to have someone want an entire ship! Haha, you with a company, or you flyin’ solo?”

Sojourn smirks, channeling the old memories of his father’s voice—gruff, charming, a little cocky. “No company. Just me. Someone’s gotta move the good stuff under the radar, you know?” He winks at him. The clerk chuckles. “Hah, yes sir. That’s much appreciated. Right this way.”

They walk out into the yard, sun glinting off twisted metal and half-gutted starships. And then, there she is; the Interstellar, looming like a steel relic from another age.

Sojourn pipes up after looking around. "You know what I really need is a Hauler that can pull without being automatically being detected. You got anything like that?" He thinks for a bit then says, “Well, you can’t go much worse than this ol’ beaut.” He points directly at The Interstellar. Sojourn smiles “How much she going for?” He walks over and around it a few times then says, "oh we could let her go for Two million credits.”

Sojourn nods thoughtfully, circling the hauler like it’s the first time he’s seen it. “Hmm. Does she run?” “Oh yeah. Might look like scrap, but she’s got a real heart. Older core, but still purrs.” Sojourn walks in and looks at the core. “One million.” He thinks and then says, “Nah, can’t do that. But I’ll do all the paperwork and send it over to your comm. No stress.”

Sojourn walks outside around back, taps the hull.

“No hookups back here. That’s a half mil of work right there.” The clerk frowns, and rubs his chin. “Yeah… fair point. Alright, 1.5 then.”

Sojourn: “1.2 and you got a deal.”

The Clerk says, "You got some nerve Driver. Ok let's say that you can have it for 1.4 Mil and I'll throw in those connecters." Sojourn says, "1.3 Mil and can I get a full tank as well?" He reaches into his vest and hands over a rusted ring of keys. "Sold! What’s your name, driver?" He says, “Sojourn.”

“Glad to meet you. I’m Nat. The owner of this yard. You got a good ship there. Just give her a little love. Some TLC.” Sojoun looks a little embarrassed; “Will do, sir. I didn't know you were the owner.” He hands over the credits. If I would have known…" Nat amused says, " oh don't worry kid, I will not rat you out. Besides I'm glad someone like you is taking the Interstellar off my hands. I didn't have the heart to cut her up." Sojoun pats Nat on the back and says, "Hey, she is in good hands. Oh can you send the paperwork to the Crimson Moon address. I’ll swing back there later to sign."

Nat, knowing something is up, says, “ You in Trouble?” Sojourn without turning around says,

“Let’s just say… I’m passin’ through. And I’d like to be somewhere else sooner rather than later.” Nat nods, “Got it. Just be careful. Mars remembers the ones who try to leave her behind.”

Sojourn nods and disappears back around the side of the ship. He climbs into the cabin and Molt buzzes at him. Sojoun grins to himself as he settles into the pilot’s seat, fingers brushing over old, sun-cracked controls. “They won’t be checking the freight lanes… Okay, Molt… let’s get out of here.” He puts the keys out of his pocket and turns the ignition. The core rumbles to life. He taps the accelerator. The Interstellar roars. Lights blink across the console. The floor rumbles with long-forgotten power. Molt rushes to Sojourn's arm and forms into a large bracelet.

“Core’s intact. That’s good. Let’s see if she still hovers…” He eases the throttle forward. The ship shudders once… then lifts, smooth and easy, like she was waiting for this moment. Dust swirls. Scrap rattles. The hauler rises above the yard. “Well, hello, beautiful! She is flying!" Molt buzzes on his wrist. Sojourn says, "Don't worry buddy she will hold together." Then—BEEP! BEEP!

A red light flashes. A shrill tone.

LOW FUEL WARNING.

“Damn. Should’ve known…” He glances out the viewport at two hydrogen fuel tanks tucked near the lot's corner, surrounded by cracked pavement and weeds. Sojourn drops the ship down with a gentle thump, and hops out to fuel up. He sees the Type J fuel pump and hooks it up. Nat sees him and turns it on. Sojourn waves and says, “Thanks a million!” Nat chucks “Yeah, yeah. Next time, just pay me in hard currency, alright?”.

Sojourn waves, "See you on the flip side!"

With the tanks topped off and the Interstellar humming steady, Sojourn guides the old bird low through Marasara, past the other early morning traffic. "Wow this thing is wide. Now where is that freight route?" Molt rests on the dash, dim and still, but Sojourn can feel the tiny pulses vibrating through the cockpit, like the cube’s nervous.

The city is waking up. Street vendors are rolling out carts, freight droids chug across intersections, and security drones buzz overhead. A pair of Organization patrol ships cruise far above searchlights off, but Sojourn knows what they’re looking for. As he rounds a tight turn near the southern market sector, a traffic drone pings the ship. BLIP! “Unregistered hauler. Please identify.”

Sojourn fearing the worst thinks, “Don’t talk. Don’t blink. Don’t freak out.”

The Interstellar's old codes turns on and the drone stops flashing and then moves on. Sojourn exhales, "That was close. I guess this old gal has some external drive we don't know about Molt." He cheerfully looks at the old data pads for the codes that were transmitted. "Oh well, lucky break."

A narrow alley behind a closed-down spice shop in New Atlanta is where Eleanor's data pad leads them to. The safe house isn’t marked, and that’s the point. The Interstellar sets down like a tired bird, landing gear creaking as it settles into a hidden cargo pad behind the building.

Sojourn grabs his bag, slings it over one shoulder, and opens the hatch. “Molt… lock it down. If someone gets curious, give ’em a light show.”

Molt glows briefly acknowledging. Sojourn slips out into the morning light and crosses the alley.

Just as he reaches the rusted door, a hovercar slows at the street’s edge. A figure inside mid-40s, suit, mirrored glasses turns and watches him for just a moment too long. Then the car moves on. Sojourn freezes.

“Great…” He punches in the code on the keypad Eleanor gave him. The door clicks. Opens. He slips inside the safe house just as sirens wails somewhere in the distance.