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The night sky was a deep, navy blue under the light of two small moons, one silver and one dusty pink. Surrounding them were hundreds of bright stars in all manner of clusters and constellations. One could spend a lifetime cataloging each one and their paths across the heavens. Below the stars, the moonlight illuminated a vast white city perched atop vaulted pillars. It sat still and silent, towering over miles of dense jungle as far as the eye could see. The image likely would have been quite beautiful, but it was completely lost on the city's sole human inhabitant.
Steven Taylor lay on the roof of the city, his head pillowed beneath his hands as he gazed up at the vast array of stars. It was the same sky he had seen last night, and the night before, and likely would see for many nights to come. He sometimes wondered why he even bothered to come up here. At first he had built the climbing structure as a way to keep busy and maybe even find a way to escape. That had been over a year ago. The roof had offered no escape from his solitary prison. Only the agonizing view of the stars he longed to returned to.
He had always wanted to be a space pilot as long as he could remember. To travel the vast distances between those stars and see planets and worlds beyond his own. He had met others in the Space Corp who were in it for the glory, or because the pay was good, or because they wanted to get away from something. He had joined for the joy of it. To fly and explore space had been his dream. Then came the war and the ill fated mission that crashed him here on Mechanus. Grounded for two years now with the stars just out of reach.
He had tried to stay positive at first. He was alive and the Mechanoids did feed him and give him what he needed to stay healthy and fit. He had kept to a schedule and worked on his structure to reach the roof in an effort to stay sane. He had calculated the odds of someone from the Space Corp finding his crash site at something like 2000 to 1 against. That is if they even bothered to waste resources looking for him. But he still held onto hope that someone would come, or he would managed to break the Mechanoid's code, or he would find some other means to escape.
That hope was fast dwindling now as he stared longingly up at the stars. He both loved and hated coming up here to look at them. Some nights he couldn't bear to be reminded of what he had lost. Some nights it felt like his only connection to remind him that he really was still himself. He had to hold on to that. He was Steven Taylor, Flight Red 50, and some day he was going to get back to those stars. He had to keep hold of that, because if he didn't then there was nothing left.
Letting out a long sigh, Steven finally moved to stand up. He scooped up his star watching companion, his mascot HiFi. He glanced down at the stuffed panda and squeezed it reflexively. “Maybe tomorrow something will change.” It had to change eventually. It must. He had to cling to that hope, because without it he was afraid he would lose himself. Some day, something had to change.
Hours later, as dawn broke over the horizon, an odd sound of rushing wind could be heard in the jungle below as a strange, blue box suddenly appeared.