The Universe

Ghostship: may refer to a fictional haunted ship, or one found adrift with its entire crew either missing or dead, or one which has been decommissioned but not yet scrapped.

Examples

The Mary Celeste, found in 1872, still sea worthy and under sail in the Atlantic ocean, heading for the strait of Gibraltar . Her cargo was intact, all of the crew’s possessions were accounted for and she still had six month’s worth of food onboard but her crew was no where to be found.

The Carrol A. Deering, found run aground in 1921, abandoned after it was sighted three days earlier with a “milling” crew. The ship’s log, navigation equipment, crew’s belongings and two lifeboats were missing. The galley contained food halfway through preparation for a meal.

The Baychimo, abandoned in an ice field in 1931, she was freed by a storm. Her owners decided not to recover her, believing that she would sink during the rough winter weather. She did not sink however and was reported over the following four decades, with several boardings but unsalvageable each time. She was last seen in 1969. Fate unknown.

The MV Joyita, found adrift but heavily listing in 1955. All twenty-five crew and passengers were missing, along with three liferafts and the lower decks were flooded. The hull was found to be sound and the flooding due to a broken pipe. However she was lined with cork, making her almost unsinkable and making a voluntary abandonment by the crew senseless.



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The Dancer moved as gracefully as her name implied, as she travel through the empty and cold blackness between solar systems. Her white paint and red lettering glowed slightly, in the light of distant stars, as her hull wrapped lovingly around jet-black cargo pods. Running lights flashed down her sides, mingling with the beams of light issuing from her windows and portholes. Everything seemed perfectly normal.

Captain Theo walked lightly on the decking of his cabin, thanks to the gravity plates (which lined most the decks on the Dancer), which pulled with a force one-half that of gravity on the human homeworld of Earth. That was the setting he like, the plates out in the hallways were always set to two-thirds Earth gravity. Of course they had problems, mostly because they were cheap compared with a shipwide magnetic field generators or the like. Thaddus always seemed to be replacing plates here or there, when they burned out or just stopped working.

The digital clock above his bunk read fourteen-ten hundred hours, which meant it was feeding time for the mini-menagerie he kept in his cabin and the one next door, which he had taken over for his cold weather collection. The cabin was filled with hungry chattering and the sounds of small animals eating. He moved around the walls, a large plate of chopped up fruits, veggies and raw meat. At each of the cages, he would drop a morsel in and smile as the creature (or plant) would strike at the food.

There were also several dishes on the floor, each filled for one of the medium sized creatures he let roam around the ship. The largest of theses was an Ezrain Muscle Cat, a six-legged predator which resembles a Bengal cat, only gray in color, strips as well as spots and as big as a good sized dog. Luckily, like all of the creatures onboard, it’s tame enough not to go hunting the crew or any of the other animals.

As the last of the food was placed in the cages and a large, bright red and yellow monitor lizard-like reptile named Rex came through the open hatch, Theo’s personal computer terminal started to chime. It was connected to the ship’s scanners and supposed to alert him whenever the passive, long range sweeps found another ship. He had been aboard a ship taken by pirates before (luckily they just wanted the cargo) and vowed his ship would never be taken by ambush.

Pulling on a light blue tee shirt, which had bold black letters covering the front, declaring that “It’s Better In Low Grav”, the captain of Dancer tapped a key on the terminal and headed for the bridge.

On the dark side of the ship a man like shape hovered slightly over an open panel. The blackness of space may seem like a comforting embrace to a bystander, but one errant twitch, a single tear or breach in the bulky fabric of an enviro-suit could spell instant doom for a lonely engineer.

Spark fizzle!

"Sonuvabitch!" Thaddeus let go of the hull, allowing his cable to become taut. "Damage is localized. Mah suit appears ta be intact."

The cold void of space was not like a mother's embrace, it's only comfort was in silence. There was nothing in the vacuum and it was beautiful. Thaddeus floated aimlessly on the end of his cable for a time, allowing his body to rest, over-exertion in the vacuum was just as dangerous as a torn suit.

His radiation shielding interface began to buzz lightly, letting him know that he had only two hours before the ships rotation put him near the closest stars. Biting his bottom lip Thaddeus allowed his cable to pull him back to the ship. Careful not to grasp any sharp edges he floated lazily along the hull back to the panel.

His breath like static over the speakers near his ear, the engineer settled himself above the panel, slowly and ever so carefully he eased his bulk omni-tool from it's cradle on his back so that both his hands gripped it on either side of the interface. "Just got some exposed outer wirin' here. Nothin' I can't fix. We're gonna need some new radiation resistant plates out here 'fore the year is done. Not an entire set... as if we could afford it. "he grumbled under his breath.

After an hour's worth of work Thaddeus began the slow descent, or ascent depending on which way you were facing, to the nearest airlock. After forty-five minutes of stop and go progress he finally made it.


The long shower afterward was much deserved. Drying himself with a towel Thaddeus questioned the mirror about whether or not to trim his beard when a light above the entry way signaled his presence on the bridge. Pulling on his orange utility jumpsuit and sneakers, Thaddeus searched around his room for a bandanna that wasn't covered in sweat. He spied a red one sitting on top of his bunk. "Bingo."

He exited the living quarters humming a song to himself.

With his feet resting on the control panel and the comm channel to that little engineer Thaddeus online, Jacob enjoyed himself while listening to the man cursing through the comm. They didn't always get along, but Jacob sure as hell found Thaddeus failures funny enough to accept the man as a good and trustworthy one. Besides, it was more of a professional friendship between them rather than some annoying close-friendship. Those things always got the in the way of someones judgement when your life was at stake. That's why this pilot didn't want anyone getting too close to him. The captain seemed to trust him and that was good enough.

"Just got some exposed outer wirin' here. Nothin' I can't fix. We're gonna need some new radiation resistant plates out here 'fore the year is done. Not an entire set... as if we could afford it." The voice crackled through the comm. Jacob put down his feet from the control panel and moved over to where the communications were monitored.

"Hey, I heard that." The pilot replied with a fake serious tone before chuckling. Always funny to mess around with people. Come to think of it though, he wouldn't have much to do after Thaddeus is done out there, besides watching as the ship moves on forward by itself.

---

Two hours came and went, and Jacob had drifted into sleeping. Yet that changed when he heard a pipping sound from the computer. It was the scanner and it had picked up another ship and a large one from the looks of it. It seemed damaged as the scanners showed signs of life support failures here and there, some of the hull of it had breached and there was metal parts, probably from the ship, floating around it. Jacob wanted to explore this ship further but he had his orders and unless the captain himself changed those orders, they were heading away from this opportunity for some great salvaging.

"Guess some things should remain untouched... for now." He slowly thought as he increased the Dancers speed just a bit.

Within the Dancer, Wes enjoyed the silence that accompanied the empty cafeteria as he prepared the next meal. The kitchen almost alive as pans sizzled and timers rang. Although small, Wes found it relatively better that everything was in easy reach and quickly added a touch of spices to the mixture he was making, his hands covered in flour as he worked. He paused momentarily to wipe his hands on a dish rag, his eyes inspecting the formula for any flaws.

Satisfied, the cook turned to the cooler and withdrew several packages of meat. "Lunch today is..." He glanced at the package as he sat them next to the mixture "Breaded chicken..." Turning to a simmering pan, he gave it a quick stir with his ladle, crafted from years of constant heat and dealing with sneaking hands. "Stewed carrots..." He gave another turn, this time reaching out to input a command into the food storage computer. A hardy hiss erupted as the door slid open, allowing Wes to seize the proffered fruit and arrange it in a basket he bought a year back. "And Pears." He finished, a grin spreading across his face as he began working on rolling the chicken and popping the flour covered meat on a flat pan.

Finished, he slid the pan to cook in the ships oven. He gave the knives he used a quick wash, and in a flickering movement, had them buried in the target board he kept on the far end of the kitchen. Each knife striking dangerously close to the bulls eye.

"Time for Drinks." Wes announced, and turned to began his work anew.

In other parts of the Dancer, Aquia was learning how to use the different equipment in the doctors quarters. No body was around so she was playing around with the computer to see what all it could do. The Dancers equipment had a little bit more technology then the other ships she had been on except for one, The Gemini. But, she was glad that she was downgrated a bit because now she could really learn how to help people.

Aquia rounded the corner to one of the vacant beds and was again working on the computer that went with it. "The technology around here isn't that complicated" Her voice was a soft whisper but it was still song like and velvety. Her portable device was being upgraded with new technology. It made Aquias life easier then having to go through all the archives herself.

Last on her list was to wander over to the doctors desk again and to make sure everything was up to date and right again. She was starting to get bored so she thought about creating another device that could help mankind, or at least herself. She grabed a portable sheet and started designing her little device.

"What should it have?" She thought quickly and as she got more and more into her design the outside world started to disappear around her...

Alethea pulled her hair back, pinning a few of the shorter pieces, so that they wouldn't get in her way. Slipping on some shoes, she walked down to the medical bay. A few other medical officers milled around the room, idly straightening already straightened equipment. "I could be doing more back home." She said under her breath. There was no going back now, though, so Alethea set out to find something to do.

Finding the medicine cabinet, she started to organize them all. At the questioning look of a fellow victim of nothing to do, she replied; "It'll help...when we need...medicine." She let out a half sigh, half laugh. Leaning back in her chair, she decided she wasn't sorry she come aboard the Dancer. Just sorry they didn't have more accidents...

The ship's gymnasium, situated towards the farthest ventral reaches of the Dancer, whistled with the song of blades being swung and shouts being uttered.

The large room was occupied by a man and an android, a specially-programmed training robot that Kenneth Deladrier, mercenary, had paid a hefty sum on the black market to obtain for the purpose of keeping his fighting skills sharp. Thus far, it had performed its job admirably, and in the process of keeping Deladrier's combat instincts well-honed, it also kept him from having to follow the standard exercise regime for a man of his size in a low-grav environment. He parried away a straight thrust from the robot with Clarice and pulled it arm-first onto the padded gym floor, holding the arm behind its back in a subduing hold. The robot eventually shut down, declaring Deladrier the victory after a short fight, for little more purpose than to get Deladrier's blood flowing. As he returned Clarice to its scabbard, the comms unit on Kenneth's belt buzzed, telling him that his presence was requested on the bridge.

The bulky mercenary grunted. It was rare that the entire crew was called up to the bridge, so Deladrier was mildly intrigued when the call came through. Stowing his blade away on his back, Kenneth climbed into the turbolift from the under-decks and headed for the bridge.

As Theo walked to the bridge, which was a short jaunt from his cabins, he all but tripped over the Muscle Cat. Laughing softly, as much at his stumble as from the critter’s mew of annoyance, he bent down and picked up his newest pet. After he lifted the cat to his chest, the predator climbed up and wrapped it’s long body around his shoulder, hanging on with three pairs of sharp claws. Wasting no more time and with what could be compared with the cocky attitude of a king in his own palace, he strolled on into the bridge.

“Whatta we got” he asked, all but hopping into his captain’s chair and sitting just so that the cat wasn’t squished against the headrest. He didn’t really need to ask, the scanner screen above the window was already showing an up close view of the speck in the distance. It looked beautiful and mysterious at the same time, just the thing he loved most of all. It was a ship and it appeared abandoned or at least in need of help, although the comm. terminal wasn’t chiming about picking up a distress call.

As the captain continued to study the scene, thoughts started to flying around in his mind. If the mystery ship was abandoned, then she could be salvaged and even selling that big thing for scrap would net enough dollars to make the crew very very comfortable. He thought of how the Dancer had left port with only three-forths of the fuel she could carry (although that was more then enough to make the run) and how many of the systems within her jury rigged or equipment mismatched. With the haul from a salvage like that, he could afford to refit the old girl or just buy a new ship.

However, the crew did need to be consulted on this matter. Getting close to wrecks like that could be dangerous. Besides, exploring, claiming and towing the wreck would cost them time on the run, which would cut into the profit (not that the cargo would die, all the pods were carrying enough feed and water for a five month voyage) and they might not be able to claim or tow her at all.

Smiling, he touched a button on the right arm of the chair. It sent a basic, none verbal message to very comm. unit on the ship; “Get your butt up to the bridge!”.

Alethea had begun to read through the medical histories of all the people on board, about a third of the way through, she heard a call to the bridge. "I wonder..." She said, looking at the few people around her. One of them shrugged, as clueless as Alethea, and then they all left as one. Down the twisting corridors, Alethea saw many of the other crew members on the same trek. She recognized a few from their medical reports.

Stepping onto the bridge, she saw the captain sitting in his chair (not to mention a strange animal wrapped around his neck), staring at the screen - a lopsided smile plastered on his face. Looking at the screen, Alethea saw a ship that looked as if it had seen better days. Filing in with the rest of the crew, she looked expectantly at Captain Harwood.

Beep Wes looked in surprise at the light indicating his presence. His hands paused in the middle of stirring as he thought of anything evil he did in the past. He came up with nothing, having already been reprimanded on nearly killing someone for trying to sneak in for a snack by throwing a steak knife at him. Mildly annoyed at the interruption, he shoved the large pot back into the fridge to preserve it and hung his apron from a peg on the kitchen door.

Sneakers whispered on the gravity boards as he made his way to the bridge, ladle swinging dangerously in his right hand. Nodding to several crew members as he passed, He entered the bridge quietly (Wondering how the captains newest pet would taste if cooked) and noted the ship hovering onscreen.

His first thought was relief, this was followed by the second thought of how big the thing was, and the money it could bring in if salvaged and sold. With eyes of wonder, He began to study the ship, awaiting the captains response.

The ship was magnificent to say at least but it still made one suspicious. What was a ship of that size doing out here? Were there still anyone in there? Would the hyperspace engine still work? If not, what else could they salvage? So many questions and so little interest. Upon further scanning and reports, Jacob discovered that most of the hangar bays was closed shut except two or three of them, that there were hull breaches very close to what Jacob believed was the bridge of the ship and to no ones surprise; there was several life support failures around the ships many sectors. Jacob began to doubt that anyone was still alive in there and also that they were going to be able to salvage anything from it. That ship was a dead one and those should remain untouched.

Soon he was joined by other crew members and the captain himself. Jacob spun around in his chair and faced the captain who had just asked a simple question.

"Here we got a massive ship that from the looks of it is barely holding together and there is no sign of any crew on board it. What do you say capt'n? Wanna move on or drop by and say hello to our new dead neighbours?" The pilot reported with his usual joking voice with a big grin under the helmet.

Thaddeus entered quietly behind everyone, he had seen a few things that needed re-adjusting on his way to the bridge. As he craned his neck over the heads of a few med-techs he saw a magnificent ship, abandoned, and from the look of a few lights on what appeared to be the engine still working. Thaddeus rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

Jacob's voice could be heard cutting through the low murmur of the crew, "Here we got a massive ship than from the looks of it is barely holding together and there is no sign of any crew on board it. What do you say, capt'n? Wanna move on or drop by and say hello to our new dead neighbors?"

"I hafta agree with Jacob here, Skipper. I see at least three dozen radiation-resistant plates out there in better condition that our newer ones. From the look o' that beauty we might be able to not only get the Dancer lookin' like home-comin' queen but make a buck or a couple thousand. With yer permission, Skipper I'd like to see if I can salvage any o' those plates."

The burly engineer winked at the med-techs after shouting over their heads, "Sorry, ma'am, 'scuse my manners."

Deladrier arrived on the bridge shortly after the second beep on his communicator. The chief of security moved his considerable bulk across the threshold of the turbolift, his heavy boots thumping on the gravitised floor as he made his way to the captain's chair. Once there, Kenneth squinted hie eyes at the viewscreen before him, scrutinizing the large vessel that consumed it. The ship's hull appeared to be mostly intact, but signs of damage were present. Nothing that couldn't be explained by a sudden trip through an asteroid field or a hydrogen cloud, but the fact remained - it was there.

Also, there was the lack of a distress signal, or indeed any signal at all (with the exception of the nav-beacon). This was a disturbing thing; most stranded ships this far out at least had a repeating broadcst with their co-ordinates, condition and need of rescue. To find a ship in a similar situation gone completely dark was disturbing.

The hair on Kenneth's neck prickled. He wasn't a superstitious man, but he had heard stories in several bars throughout his life of ships a lot like this one. A particularly backwater specimen of spacer had a pagan name for them, in his quaint little religion - 'Wuroboks', or 'devil ships' in Trade. Cursed to forever stand silent at the edges of the universe, these ships were supposedly the vessels of demons from Hell. Anyone who attempted to enter such a vessel would surely die a terrible death. It wasn't an encouraging philosophy, and Deladrier didn't put much thought into it. But now he was facing a completely dead vessel, on the edge of known space, with no communications, no life signs and no distinct purpose to being there. His mind dug up the wurobok story again, as it clamored for an explanation, and Deladrier harshly put it down. But no matter how hard he hit the theory, it always came back, a low chant in his ears: 'Devil ship, turn back. Devil ship, turn back. Devil ship, turn back.'

Kenneth growled under his breath, and the thought subsided. "Captain," he said in his low, gravelly voice, "while I'm sure that vessel would be great for salvage, it's giving me some really -" devilshipturnbackdevilshipturnbackdevil- "bad vibes. If you really want to go for it, I would suggest being very careful."

Theo couldn’t help but smile. Good old Thaddeus, he caught on to the plan to ask the crew about salvaging the mystery ship so fast, he hadn’t even gotten to mention it yet. His pilot wanted to know if they were gonna cruise pass the wreck or stop on by for a visit and security was advising caution. The rest of the crew remained silent, letting any thoughts they had go untold and waiting for him to issue orders. Well if they didn’t want to speak up, they better not whine.

“I think” said the captain, reaching up to pet the Ezrain Muscle Cat, “It is our duty, as honest spacers, to board this derelict and search for survivors. Of course if the crew has abandoned ship or they’ve already expired, we will of course tow the vessel to our port of call.”

A wicked sparkle gleamed in his eyes. While he wasn’t lying, that wasn’t the reason they were going to approach the wreck. It was a much nicer reason though, to enter into the log, then to record that they came running to the corpse of space to loot her. Besides, the claims court would ask each of the crew why they had gone aboard and with the damage the wreck had, someone might try to claim they were pirates. Better that everyone sing the same song when they reached Sihnon.

“Jacob” continued Theo, “Bring us in close here.”

His fingers worked the controls on the arm of his chair and the view on the screen closed in on an airlock on the derelict’s starboard. It was bigger then any of the airlocks on the Dancer but contained a smaller airlock within it, much like the ones on military transports or big cruiseliners, which allowed those vessel to load a greater number of personal, quicker then the smaller, standard airlock. They could easily attach their matting tube to it.

“Everyone else” finished the captain, “Get suited up and assemble at the port airlock. We have a….rescue mission to pull.”

Daeryk had arrived late to the meeting, and geared up in an enviro-suit he had beggared off of Thaddeus several weeks previously. He found the suit very useful when mucking out the cargo-pods with their walking hamburgers jammed inside like fish in a barrel. The suit was irreversibly soiled due to much trudging around in their filth attempting to make the pods sanitary, at least in part, by scraping up their constant supply of manure, and feeding it into specially designed incinerators that had been mounted on the sides of the pods. He had hated every minute of it since Theo had handed him and his crew a score of shovels, and after the first day he found it easier to promise Thaddeus double the worth of a suit than to stand the stench of this particular task.
He had been halfway through a particular pod that had gone unnoticed the day prior when the buzzer began ringing in his ears, the sound magnified by the closed confines of his helmet. He reached up to touch a button on the side of his ear-piece to mute the annoyance. He didn’t have the time to go running about while these hamburgers continued to pile everything up.
“Honestly, how can this man expect the lot of us to keep this mess cleaned up? We have to work all day just to manage, and when the slackers we have want to joke around or break for an hour I have to pick up the pace. I’m gonna give that man a piece of my mind the next time I see him!”
Of course he stopped what he was doing, and sighing, walked back towards the airlock at the other end of the cargo-pod, and commenced through it into the corridor. He knew he must go to the Captain’s call, or face losing a few of his cargo handlers to “guard-duty”. Much good that security officer did, in his opinion, he spent more time playing grab-ass with that hunk of metal than anything else, and Daeryk had soon grown to dislike him in the short amount of time they had been around each other.
He had just walked into the back of the crew, smelling horrid no doubt, and he glanced at the heap of rubble in the distance. Knowing, without a doubt, what Theo would want, and listened while the others chimed, making the decision for him. Daeryk had never much liked interfering with these things, not from superstition or any such nonsense, but just from his own solitary frame of mind, in his view if it wasn’t bothering you then it didn’t need to be bothered with.
“Everyone else” finished the captain, “Get suited up and assemble at the port airlock. We have a….rescue mission to pull.”
“Theo” interrupted Daeryk, “Don’t you think this is a little risky? I mean what are the chances that no one else has come upon this wreck and left well enough alone like we should? This isn’t exactly a barren stretch of space here, and we can’t chance harm to any of our ship, crew, or cargo. If ya beg my pardon for saying so, somethin’ ain’t right.”

Aquia was wandering around the hospital wing with her little gadget when the announcement came on. "Oh dang." She placed her gadget on the master computer table and raced to the bridge. She hoped she didn;t miss to much seeing as she didn't know the ship very well. She excited the doors and headed down the hall "They need a map in here" Se said a few moments later after getting lost.

Soon she found someone in which she asked where she might get to the bridge, thankfully he quickly pointed out where she should go. She headed to a small elevator and headed up to the specific level the man had told her to go. Now all she had to do is head down the hall and walk in, thats pretty simple...right? She reached the floor and it made a small ding sound. "Ok relax."

Aquia pulled her hair up into a bun and fixed her shirt. She walked swiftly but with purpose her steps looking like she was wearing heels. She blew out a long breath and entered the room.

As some of the crew talked about the ship a man walked in, giving his two cents about the matter. He begged pardon, and winked at Alethea. She gave him a quick smile and returned her attention to the discussion. Moments later, another man, who reeked of...something, walked in. So, he advised against it? Alethea was only a med, she didn't know much about mechanics or ships or distress signals. Alethea simply listened as different people chimed in, and then as the Captain announced that they would be boarding the abandoned (or is it?) ship.

Just as he finished speaking, the doctor, Aquia, walked in. Of course, Alethea and her had met, seeing as she would be under her orders in the medical bay. She smiled at her and offered a small wave. As Aquia walked away, Alethea thought about the mission that lay before her and the rest of the crew. It was mandatory for med techs to go along, seeing as any number of the crew could get hurt, and dying people may (though unlikely) be on board.

She went through a mental check list of all the equipment she would need to bring, and, lost in her thoughts, bumped into the man that had winked at her earlier. "Oh, uh, sorry."

Thaddeus was going through a mental check-list of all the things needed for transport when he almost stumbled into one of the Med-techs.

"My bad, darlin'" He grinned at her sheepishly, "Maybe you could gimme a hand with this, could you bring some carry on medical supplies to airlock B-17? I'll meet you and the rest o' the crew there. I gotta make sure our dockin' mechanism is up to snuff. 'Member that skirmish we had with them Red Scorpions? Probably not, any way I've been puttin' off fixin' the attachments. They scarred 'em pretty bad... Heh, listen to me; ramblin' on. See ya at B-17."

The burly engineer gave a smile and a nod and pushed lightly through the crowd. His work was going to be made out for him. The curse of being a damned good engineer was the utter lack of contemporaries. "Gotta do everything by hand, if a man's afraid o' work he ain't really a man."


A good fifteen minutes later Thaddeus stood on a lift above the decompression chamber. He pushed back his blast mask with a grunt of satisfaction."None shall pass!"

"Yes, see you there." Alethea said, giving him a nod as she walked down the corridors to the medical bay. Where was Doctor Aquia? She's probably gathering supplies for her group. Alethea thought. She assembled the supplies needed, rounded up the few med techs that were under her and headed for airlock B-17.

Upon her arrival, she saw the man - what was his name anyway? - that had asked her to bring the supplies, push back his mask and announce "All aboard!" Alethea and the other three, two men and a woman, walked onto the Tiny Dancer, depositing their medical supplies and themselves in the back of the ship.

"Excuse me!" Alethea called to the man she had bumped into earlier. As she walked up to him, she noticed that he looked as if he could snap her in two. "Two things, first; what is your name? And second; would you mind clearing up at exactly what we're doing? I mean, I'm a med tech, and don't know much about abandoned ships and what they mean. I'm rather confused."

Daeryk had been insulted that Theo hadn’t acknowledged his thoughts concerning this particular venture, but knew it best not to try and push the subject any farther, if anything the captain was a stubborn and quick-tempered man that should not be cross-examined too thoroughly. So, sighing to himself, Daeryk decided it best to venture back to him quarters for a quick refresher before heading off to the shuttle that was to transport him with the rest of the crew. He listened to some inconsequential small-talk between Thaddeus and the med-techs before he stalked off, down the cramped hallways, towards his living space.

When he reached the opening to his quarters, he stopped slowly and entered his security-code into the keypad, and glancing around cautiously, walked into his room. It was standard living quarters, originally featuring only a bed, bathroom side-room, closet, and desk with drawers that inhabited all of the other cabins, but Daeryk had made it his own. He had brought along a set of micro-books, along with a 3-D display with which to view them, that mainly included digitalized copies of literature that predated Earth’s computer-age, mounted a bar into the ceiling that allowed for a restricted work-out process, he was not overly-fond of the ship’s accommodations as they were the usual haunt of the security officer, and several pictures of his childhood spent on Osiris. This all helped to ease his mind after a long hard-day’s work, especially after cleaning the tables.

He had made his shower a quick one, knowing full well that the captain wanted him along on this escapade as well, and donned the fresh enviro-suit he had brought along, smirking as he remembered scamming Thaddeus with some counterfeit to counter his greed, and began his trek to the Tiny Dancer. As he neared, he saw several crew members milling about, loading up cargo while taking further instructions from their superiors, and saw one of the medical officers questioning Thad. Smiling to himself at the uncertainty, he approached the engineer and clapped him on the shoulder.

“So Thad, is this hunk of scrap gonna be able to handle the trip? Or have you lost your touch?”

Before the man, or Thad, as the other guy had called him, could say anything, someone came and slapped him on the back. “So Thad, is this hunk of scrap gonna be able to handle the trip? Or have you lost your touch?” He said. Alethea remembered seeing his picture in the medical records, but couldn't remember his name.

"Hello." Alethea said, politely, even if the man hadn't said anything to her specifically. She was determined to make her mark in the crew, to be among the valued crew members - not just a med tech that only came out of the medical bay for emergencies. Over the uneventful weeks before this day, she had made friends with the other med techs, but few others. In fact, the only time she had talked to the captain was when he hired her.

Daeryk had not been paying much attention to the other crew members when he had approached Thaddeus, but was surprised at the tan beauty that had presented herself, and he paused for a moment, not quite sure how to proceed. He had always been an outgoing person at work, due to his complete confidence in his own abilities, but when it came to the public in general, he was actually quite an introverted person and the thought of even talking to a beautiful woman sometimes scared him, which was exactly what happened at this moment. He did not want to appear rude, however, and quickly composed himself, allowing a broad grin, nervous grin to open up on young face, and a hand reached back to scratch the back of his head, outlining the large scar with his fingers unconsciously. His next words came out quick and slightly mumbled.

“Uhm sorry miss, I didn’t mean to be rude and interrupt you like that, but anyways I’m Daeryk Santoval, chief cargo handle and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, uhm you must be a medical officer right?”

He tentatively put one of his scarred hands out, as more of a hopeful gesture than anything, and forgot himself when he unthinkingly ran his gaze over her, checking her out accidently. A blush crept up his face as he made to reach to the back of his head again, a sure sign of nervousness he had never been able to shake, and tried to hurry out another question in hopes to cover up the glance.

“So you’re going over with us? Don’t mind what I was asking Thaddeus here, he’s good at what he does, and I’m sure we’ll be in safe hands. So what’s your name if I may?”

Alethea fought the urge to laugh - he was obviously nervous. Or maybe just shy. "My name is Alethea, Alethea Warren. Nice to meet you." She smiled her best smile and continued. "Yes, I'm a medical officer, second in command." Alethea recognized him as the man who had said something against the mission. Was it dangerous? Alethea noticed scars running up and down his arms, and she thought she saw one on his neck when he moved his hand there. He looked a little uncomfortable under her gaze. "I'm sorry," She said, "I just couldn't help but notice your scars. You know, if you had had those treated properly, they wouldn't be so bad." Alethea then thought about what she said - who was she to go around telling people about stuff they could have done dealing with the medical? "Oh, I'm sorry. I guess it's just a habit of mine." She shuffled her feet and unconsciously placed her hand on her hip, a gesture she couldn't rid herself of.

Theo resisted the temptation to check the seals on his helmet, as he approached the airlock. He always did that, for some reason he was always nervous about his suit before getting out into the void of space, even when he knew for a fact, it was on correctly. It wasn’t like his checking had ever helped him, hell, once he broke the seals from checking them with every step as a younger man. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t all that important, just a tick the captain had.

Of course, he really didn’t want to be wearing the suit but given the holes in the derelict, she might not have a lot of atmosphere left inside. Plus they didn’t know why the crew either abandoned ship or was unable to hail them. Some kind of chemical leak or gas could be filling the remaining atmosphere with toxic elements. It was better to go in, carrying your own air, at least at first.

Theo was a bit late getting to the airlock. Most of the crew should be already there but he had gone back to his cabin after suiting up to fetch his shotgun and added a pouch of ammo to his belt. He had heard stories of pirates playing dead, to get ships to investigate and then pouring aboard once the airlocks were connected. Just like with the suit, it would be better to play this safe, then sorry.

Reaching the airlock, the captain gently worked his way through the small crowd of similarly dressed spacers, into the airlock itself. He glanced at the small screen by the control terminal. They were almost lined up with the airlock on the mystery ship. In a few more seconds, he would be able to send the matting tube (a series of collapsing rods, metallic cloth and a folding walkway) across. Then they would gather inside, seal the airlock and open the door on the hull. If they had been boarding a station or another working vessel, someone would be there to open the airlock on the other side but that didn’t seem likely now. However, he had acquired an illegal airlock override, so that would be much of a problem.

“A few more meters” said Theo, opening a comm. channel with the bridge of the Dancer, “And we’re golden.”

Looking up, Alethea saw Captain Harwood walk in, which meant they were about to head on over to the mysterious ship. Placing the helmet on, it snapped into place with a satisfying click. The other med techs were huddled together, all of them gripping a carry-on of medical supplies. "Ready?" She asked, after detaching herself from Thaddeus and Daeryk. With their nods, Alethea picked up her own carry-on, and awaited the Captain's order to move out.