Sometimes space is not what you are used to. Sometimes creepy things happen. And pilots are a superstitious folk.
Fortinbras was at the bridge of the BMF|Hippolyth as it happened. They where hauling construction suplies on a contract from Tinkers Haven, doing the Tinkers a favour to round the deal.
He had always laughed at the stories his brother FynnMcScrap used to tell if the evening at the bar went to long. About the things you could meet in the debris fields of Texas.
About the souls of the dead, waiting in the radioactive areas. And about the cries of his lost crewmen he heared at night.
He was a miner, and he had shot at a lot of things in a lot of clouds. Some had been valuable, some had shot back. And some had undoubtly been hunting for his soul. But none had been realy incorporeal... till today.
He did not believe his eyes. Fynn has joked about some of his Crews selling a story of the eternal remains of Dallas Station wandering around Texas in an erratic orbit influenced by the tides of the solar wind. Appearing near the Haven and vanishing again. But that was NOT POSSIBLE !
It could not be...
should not...
"All engines full power, steer for the Havens dock and get ready for an emergency docking process !"
Nobody of his Crew replied. And nobody of the Crew commented anything.
But the Story had just become.... creepy.
Well, probably the ghosts again...
I missed taking a shot of the wandering station but Fortinbras covered a few good shots. And the Haven is secure, nothing showing on the hull sensors.