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Not many people know this – even among those who I’ve let on board.

This ship is haunted. It is haunted by the thirteen men and women who formed her first crew under the Liberty Rogues. Those same thirteen people who joined the Maelstrom in death, accompanying her into the dark, freezing expanse of space, where she drifted for years in peaceful slumber.

Upon the ships resurrection under my authority, I became almost immediately aware that she had brought back something of her own from the grave.

The very first incident I recall occurred within the dry-docks of Puerto Rico’s Vieques Shipyards. A young welders’ apprentice had been removing panels on the lowest deck of the craft, where behind one such panel he found a small utility room which had blown out during the decompression. The boy found the body of one of the original crew members – eyes blown out, frozen blood still stuck to the persons’ face, the source being, quite clearly, their eyes, nose and ears. The person had been literally exploded by the vacuum of space, before being almost perfectly preserved by it.

The lad, having of course dealt with such an unsightly thing many times before in his career as a Junker fixer, sought assistance at once by running out through the maze of hallways and rooms making up the destroyer’s body to collect his superiors. Upon returning to the room, the boy and his assistants found nothing. The body had vanished. There was absolutely no trace of it ever being there, except, however, the grotesque blood stains covering the entirety of the room.

The young worker was denounced as a prankster at the time and his story dismissed, however other things would come together to add weight to - and eventually make canon - his claims the ship had some paranormal presence within.

Soon after, during the refurbishment of the vessel, a variety of strange incidents occurred - ranging from things like mysteriously re-located tools, doors and hatches opening and closing without input from anyone, to voices with no body to accompany them and unexplainable cold chills throughout the decks of the ship.

I, of course, was sceptical at first. Just the ramblings of some crazy Junker fixers with not much to keep themselves occupied. I stayed on board one day.

One day.

I am now certain beyond any doubt the ship still bears the souls of those who went down with her that day all those years ago. The thirteen men and women who followed the Maelstrom to the grave rejoined her in this life at the same time as their proud vessel.

These people are not hostile to me; I believe they are thankful that I have given the Maelstrom the life she deserves. Although they cannot be here in physical form; their souls ride with me and the rest of the ship’s current crew as silent watchmen, looking over us.

If you travel to the lowest deck of the ship, you might be able to hear them. The voices of the men assigned to fuel the engines, or those tasked with manning the gunnery platforms. When the ship is silent, if you stand still, in the dark, they will talk to you. They will not scare you; rather nonchalantly engage in the sort of meaningless banter that would have been the daily routine during their lives. You can feel them moving through the ship - stirring up breezes which should simply not be possible in such an environment - disturbing the fine layer of dust and leaving behind tell-tale evidence of their passing. The unnamed navigator still resides on the bridge, guiding me and my own crew as if he were corporeal himself.

Every so often, whilst meandering through the less frequented areas of the ship’s core, I may find an ancient photograph, as if deliberately placed where I will encounter it. I have nine such photographs now, each one containing a blurred and grainy image of one of the original crew. Far too many images, in far too many seemingly random locations for this to be a coincidence. Each such photo has the full name, age and role of the person written on the back. They are communicating with me. It is their wish to be known as the crew of the Maelstrom and I shall see it fulfilled.


"This ship has twenty people on board, including yourself, Eva Jones. Do you still wish to fulfil our wager?"

With a bing, the old metallic elevator doors shuddered open and Eva Jones stepped out with a slight limp, clutching a flashlight in one hand and her thigh in the other. "Thank God for elevators." She muttered to herself, moving the flashlight around to obseve a narrow view of her surroundings. The sound of the engine churning echoed through out the lower decks. Eva had been onboard the Maelstrom many times before, but mostly the living quarters, more specifically, Eva's bedroom. But she had never explored the entire ship, and it was quite vast indeed. She limped forward slowly, the layout down here was different to the Ambient Morality, Eva guessed it was either because the Maelstrom was from an earlier production line, or the entire levels had simply been revamped when the ship was being repaired.

Eva had not even had the time yet to explore all the lower decks of her own ship, let alone the Maelstrom. She contemplated how much more interesting this would have been if she had bargined Eva to join her on this little bet. Her mind deffinately would not be on the supposed ghosts of the Maelstrom if that were the case. Bah, Ghosts, she laughed inwardly. She didn't believe it for a second, Eva was just trying to scare her. She probably even turned all the lights off to create a spookier enviroment. This would be the easiest hundred credits Eva ever made.

She limped over the wall and put her back against it, grimicing slightly as she slid down the wall until her butt hit the cold metal floor. She pulled her legs up and reached into her pocket to pull out a bottle of pills and unscrewed the cap. Eva tipped a few pills into her hand and tipped her head back as she popped them into her mouth. She massaged her aching leg gently, the pain was really getting to her lately. She sighed and rolled her shoulders before placing her arms in the sleeves of the overalls that hung around her waist and pulled the garment up to her shoulders, and then zipped up the front. Wasn't going to be a comfortable night, but she'd slept in worse places.

"I give her a couple hours at the most. How long do you think she'll last everyone? Perhaps we should contract our own wager.

The closest without going over wins. They will be relieved of all non-essential duties for a week and be served breakfast in bed by the person of their choosing for the same period. The fact she refuses to acknowledge the crew's existence is only going to make them upset. They've never set out to frighten us but I think they'll go to town on Miss Jones. I actually kind of hope they do. It would be quite amusing. I hereby place my bet at two hours from now. How about the rest of you?"

"She looks tough on the outside, but the way she acts around you betrays her. I give her an hour at the most."

"Three hours."


"..."

"..."

""Three hours and one minute!"

"Two hours, twenty-seven minutes and forty-five point zero-two seconds."

"Where did that come from....? Not that it matters. Bets are in and remember: It's the closest guess that doesn't go over that wins! The clock starts now!"

The groaning of metal woke Eva Jones from her state of light slumber. The hull of the Maelstrom creaked, probably from some ship passing by too close. Eva opened her eyes slowly, how much time had passed? About half an hour. Eva was good at keeping track of time, even in an unconcious state. Eva fumbled around for her flashlight for a few moments before spotting it's little light floating around the ceiling. "Damn it, Eva, you need to get a gravity drive for this damn thing." She muttered to herself. The ceiling was far too high for her to reach, and so Eva unbuckled her magnetic gravity boots and got to her feet, giving herself a light push off the ground she effortlessly floated out of her boots and slowly up towards the ceiling. She cushioned herself with her arms as she reached the ceiling and grabbed the flashlight before pulling herself up to crouch upside down on the metallic roof. The hull of the Maelstrom groaned again, the lack of ambient sound amplified the noise, echoing it throughout the lower levels of the ship. Eva flashed the light down the hall.

"Eva?" She called out. She waited a moment, but there was no reply. Eva pushed herself off the roof, and preformed a half flip as she floated back towards the ground and slipped back into her boots to regain her footing. She buckled up her boots and began to walk down the hall slowly, holding the flashlight out to shine the way ahead. She could have sworn she heard a noise from down the hall, not just the eerie creaking of the hull.