A Ghost Festival

Fight or flight. One of the most basic human instincts, prevalent when a person is faced with a life endangering threat. For Captain Andrastus Plumb, fight or flight was something to be overcome. With a decade long military career behind him, months of training had all but removed this most basic impulse, and yet as he looked out into hangar I-45 of the Concord station he called home, he was gripped by an almost paranormal fear. His blood felt like ice in his veins, his breathing slow and shallow. Ghosts. Spectres. Nightmares. They had stalked him for 5 years, 5 years of sleepless nights, wracked by grief, sorrow and fear. At night he could still see them, still hear them, still feel them. The faces of his brothers and sisters, and the faces of the dreaded inhuman enemy. Ironic, he thought to himself, that he flew for a corporation called ‘Ghost Festival’, for it seemed that every night a mournful, horrifying festival occurred inside his mind. A Ghost Festival for the souls of those who died on that fateful day. A Ghost Festival for the dead of BK4.

As Andrastus felt the fear surge through his body, he closed his eyes, forcing images of that horrible event from his mind. Temporarily forcing his emotions into the recesses of his mind, he looked back out into the bay at the bloated, alien object within it. The Sansha Phantasm cruiser floated like a bad omen in the antigravity field of the docking bay, the harsh lighting glaring off reflective, curved hull panels. Sharp reflections bounced off the array of spikes arranged along the z-axis of the cruiser’s forward hull and highlighting the huge knife like blade on it’s prow.

‘Phantasm... an apt name’ Plumb said to himself under his breath, his eyes fixed upon the alien shape in the bay. He had flown a Phantasm more than once since becoming a capsuleer, an attempt to face his personal demons. The attempt served only to revitalise his nightmares, forcing him to become reclusive.

‘It didn’t help that mother had died two months before’ he thought, the memories of Malkalen still fresh in his mind. Again forcing his thoughts aside, he focused on the ship in the bay, marvelling at the twisted genius built into it’s every hull plate. When his associate had found the ship being auctioned in Jita, Plumb had used everything in his power to acquire the ship, ordering it flown out to Goinard without having the ship stripped of it’s fitted equipment. A door behind him opened, snapping Plumb from his thoughts. His associate, a young Khanid woman called River T’Urell, walked slowly and quietly into the room, her long brown hair flowing loosely over her shoulders.

Plumb nodded to her, ‘River. Thank you for helping me acquire this ship. It is of great importance to me’. The Khanid girl, a head shorter than he was, drifted over to him wordlessly, crossing her arms across her chest. They stood in silence for a few moments, both looking out at the Sansha Heavy Cruiser that commanded the bay. She finally spoke, a soft and caring voice that carried the warmth of a summer’s day.

‘Andrastus... Are you sure that doing this is the right thing?’ she asked as she looked up at him, a saddened expression on her face.

‘Yes, I need to do this. I must do this. I refuse to hide from myself anymore’ He replied, his voice carrying a faint tinge of sorrow. ‘This ship means a lot to me, more than anyone can imagine’ he finished, grinding his teeth in his mouth as he finished.

River continued to look up at him, her face still conveying the worry she felt slowly rising in her gut. ‘Why this one? Over all the others?’ she asked quickly, pausing briefly before continuing ‘Have you seen this one before?’. Her question received a small nod from Plumb, who continued to look out into the bay.

‘Yes’ he said, his voice steady, ‘This ship, designation YK-855 and I have met before. We met in battle, at BK4-YC’ he finished, pronouncing the system name with emphasis. He turned towards her, looking into her eyes as he continued ‘This ship is a link to that past, to the events of that day’ he said. His voice had started to shake, the saddness welling up within him. ‘I cannot allow this fear, sorrow and anger to dominate my life anymore’.

This latest revelation seemed to stun River, who looked up at him with a distinct look of shock. Her eyes flitted across his face, her gaze shifting between his eyes quickly. ‘Andrastus, get rid of that ship! Now! You cant have it here, gods dammit! Remember the last time you flew one?!’ Her voice had started to rise, sounding almost like she was begging. ‘You have spent the last two years trying to hide your suffering from me, but I know it is there. You go to bed for 16 hours and yet when you leave your quarters the next day you look worse than when you entered them the night before. Mortis has told me about the nightmares, Andrastus. Having that ship here wont solve anything!’ She placed both her hands on his chest, tears appearing in her eyes.

‘I... I can’t, I need to do this, not just for me, but for all the others, those who didn’t come home’ he said, looking back out at the ship.

‘You don’t serve them by mentally destroying yourself! Please, I beg of you, get rid of that ship!’ she paused for a second before saying ‘Look, Andrastus.... I know it is hard for you, I can only imagine what it must have been like, I wasn’t there afterall, but-‘ She was cut short. Plumb had whirled around to face her, moving up against her and staring down into her face.

‘EXACTLY!’ He shouted, rage arising from nowhere, consuming him, ‘You WERENT there! You have no idea what it was like! They killed my brothers, my sisters, people I had KNOWN and SERVED WITH for EIGHT YEARS! Ejected from airlocks, hacked into pieces, shot into mist or dragged away to be turned into more of those INFERNAL... THINGS!’ He shouted, his anger now fully controlling him. River started to back away, her eyes full of fear as she watched her closest friend tear himself apart. ‘I owe it to them, Miss T’Urell’, The use of her last name in such a formal tone hurting her more. He only addressed her like that when he was angry or upset with her. ‘I owe it to Pierre, vented into space when the Sansha drones overran the auxiliary damage control. I owe it to Marie, cut into pieces by a mob of mindless, evil killers! I owe it to Jaque, frak it I owe it to all them’. He managed to finally bring his anger under control, closing his eyes and taking long, deep breaths. He looked away from her, steadying himself against the reinforced glass of the viewing port as he calmed down.

‘Im sorry, I...’ he paused again, continuing to breathe heavily. ‘I can’t get rid of it, I need it. Study thine enemy. I cannot allow it to happen again, I wont allow it to happen again. We lost that battle because we failed to face facts, we failed to study the Sansha threat before blindly marching into their space’. He turned to face her, his eyes red and swollen from the emotion within him. ‘I need this ship so I can study them, know them. we made the mistake of not studying them 5 years ago. We made the mistake of underestimating a foe that has grown steadily stronger in our complacency. But it wont happen again, River, not on my watch. There will not be another BK4’.