Rust hung like icicles from the turbine shafts. Patches of different metal covered the hull like a quilt. The arrowhead-shaped cockpit stuck out below, the windows covered in dull gold. The Captain, tall and proud, limped around the landing gear.
“This one’s it,” he said to his crew.
“Are you sure, Captain? It’s looks like a disaster waiting to happen,” said Jodie. She thrust her hands deep into her pockets, rocking back and forth on her heels.
“It matches the exact description. She might not be pretty but she has a hyperdrive, so it’ll be a quick delivery.” The Captain went back to the vendor, his hand clasped around a wad of credits.
Maris ran his hands over the hull. He’d heard of these ships – ancient recon ships that have been cannibalized and rebuilt, over and over again by insane, overzealous collectors. He chewed the inside of his cheek.
Rust flakes fell from the hull. Then again, thought Maris, Captain’s word is law.