Carter was having a bad day. For years, he'd worked aboard various vessels as equal parts security and heavy lifting to save up enough for his own ship. However, it turned out it takes more than owning a ship to profit as a trader. You need buyers, sellers, information, and connections. All he had was an old beat-up ship named "Lucy" that had already seen too many years of use and a collection of bills that seemed to be growing rather than shrinking.
So when he'd finally been offered a job that paid enough to get the creditors off his back for a while, he didn't look too closely at the details. In hindsight, it turned out the details included the fact that most people don't offer an unknown beat-up freighter a well-paying job unless all of the other more reliable freighters had already turned the job down. It also turns out that one of the things that would make a freighter captain turn down a well-paying job was when it required them to pilot through well-known pirate territories.
Long story short, Carter was now sitting aboard Lucy's escape pod, which was barely half-stocked with survival supplies. He was floating through a part of space far enough away from any decent civilization that his little emergency radio could probably only be heard by those who'd put him in this situation.
After drifting a few days, Carter picked up another ship on his sensors. He assumed the pirates had returned to finish the job but became slightly less pessimistic when it turned out to be an old derelict. While far from the largest ship he'd seen, it was still a big ship, spanning over one hundred and twenty meters. He was still probably going to die alone in space, just like the crew of that ship probably had, but at least he now had options other than sitting in his pod and starving. If nothing else, it gave him a feeling of having some measure of control over his destiny, even if it was mostly an illusion.
As he slowly maneuvered his pod closer to the ship, he noticed it was one of the oddest-looking ships he'd ever seen. It seemed more like some child had meshed three ships together into some unholy conglomeration than anything that had ever been designed by a sane mind. Some looked like a mighty warship designed to use brute force to win in a slugfest with larger vessels. Another part looked like a fast, sleek, luxury vessel owned by some wealthy debutante. The last bit looked more down to earth, as though it had been designed more for comfort and function. Perhaps it had been some sort of family vessel?
As he got close enough to see all the wear and tear the ship had endured over the years, he noticed the ship's name and felt his heart suddenly gripped in the icy fist of fear. It was the "Sybil". Lying dormant right in front of Carter was the most infamous ghost ship to ever grace the void.
It had been decades since the Sybil had shown up on anyone's radar, but when it did make an appearance, it was always a crapshoot about what would happen next. At one point, it had been the most notorious pirate vessel of its time. Entire shipping lanes were abandoned due to rumors that the Sybil was in the area. Other times, it seemed almost benevolent, towing stranded crews to the safety of civilization. However, there was one constant in all the stories. Anytime anyone was foolish enough to set foot aboard the ship, they were never seen or heard from again.
On the other hand, Carter didn't have an abundance of options. His choice was still the same, although the odds had shifted further from his favor. Go aboard and almost certainly die, or stay in his pod and definitely die. Almost certain death was better than certain death, so after pleading with whatever gods might be listening, Carter docked his pod and readied himself to go aboard.
*
Upon exiting his pod, Carter's first impressions were somewhat mixed. On the one hand, there was clean air and gravity, even if the air was somewhat stale. On the other hand, the sight in front of him looked like it belonged in some sort of horror movie. Most lights were off or broken, and the few remaining lights flickered or sparked, giving him a slideshow view of the ship. What he could see through the unreliable ambient lights and his own gauntlet-mounted flashlight was a hallway corroded with rust and mystery stains that he tried to convince himself were probably dried oil or grease.
Carter was starting to wonder if going back to the pod and calling it a day was the better option, but somehow, a swift death at the hands of the ghost ship still seemed a bit better than slowly dying of starvation while also cramped in a space not quite large enough for him to fully stretch out.
Hoping the sound of his own voice might bolster his resolve, Carter spoke aloud. "Well, it's time to get out of the frying pan and into the fire. Let's see what you've got in store for me." However, his small voice was devoured by the oppressive silence around him, which made the ship seem even more malevolent. With a shrug, he unholstered his handgun, checked the ammo, and began his exploration.
*
Walking down another corridor, Carter wondered if someone was toying with him or if his time alone on the pod had mixed with the nightmarish atmosphere permeating the ship to mess with his mind. He could swear he was being followed, but the movement stayed barely at the edges of his peripheral vision. Every time he whipped around, gun at the ready, he was met with nothing more than another old and decaying room or wall.
Looking into yet another room, Carter was met with more of the same. A thick layer of dust covered every surface. There was a bed, a dresser full of worn, ratty clothes, and the odd personal effects, but nothing useful. That's when something caught his attention; the sound of muffled laughter coming from just out in the hallway.
Carter's first impulse was to run out and investigate, but he's seen too many bad movies to follow that impulse. Instead, he readied his gun, keeping the barrel pointed low but forward, and called out. "Hello? Is someone out there? I'm sorry if I'm trespassing, but my ship was raided by pirates, and I didn't have a lot of choice in the matter. I don't mean any harm!"
There was no answer, so Carter tried once again. "Alright, I'm going to come out. I'm armed but not looking for a fight! So let's all just keep nice and calm!"
Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Carter walked back out into the hallway and was greeted by exactly what he expected, nothing. He decided to try one last "Hello?" before shaking his head at himself. Ghosts weren't real. He, of all people, should know that! He just needed to keep a calm head on his shoulders.
That was when the laughter returned, but this time, it seemed to come from around both corners and the room he'd just left. Carter swung around, trying to keep his gun trained in all three directions, forgetting all pretense of appearing non-hostile as his panicked mind painted pictures of ghosts and monsters around every corner.
The laughter seemed to grow louder and louder until it made him flinch in pain. Deciding action was better than waiting, Carter took off running, tearing around a corner. He slowed only enough for a cursory sweep with his outheld gun before continuing his attempt to escape from the horrendous screech. The laughter fell behind at first but then seemed to pursue him. At times, it echoed out of corridors beside or ahead of Carter as he ran, chasing him through the maze of hallways and making him even more lost with each turn he took.
Carter was just starting to suspect he was being herded when a doorway slammed open ahead and off to his side. It was the airlock; both hatches were open, and a hurricane of wind started pushing and pulling him toward the opening. He dropped to the ground and started desperately scrabbling for any handhold to slow his egress, but every door slammed shut as he reached for them. No other surface provided enough purchase to do more than make his heart skip beats as his fingers briefly gained traction before slipping off of them again.
Soon, he found himself pulled into the airlock itself, and Carter grabbed onto the doorway with everything he had. Despite the adrenaline fueling his grip, Carter slowly lost the battle against the vacuum's pull. He looked around feverishly for any options, but he knew these were likely his last moments. His grip finally failed, and Carter started to fall toward the vacuum of space.
At the final moment, the outer door slammed shut. Carter fell against it hard enough that he suspected he'd cracked a rib or two. Despite the pain, he launched himself out of the airlock and hammered the controls to shut the inner door, and only then allowed himself to slide to the ground and catch his breath.
That's when a seductively sultry woman's voice called out, seeming to come from every direction. "Oh look, a little cockroach has entered our web... You won't escape that easily, little cockroach. It's been far too long since we've had some fun. Now run along, little cockroach, scamper back into the shadows where you belong!"
Every door in the hallway flew open, and the piercing laughter returned, pouring out of every gaping room. Carter decided he'd had enough and ran deeper into the ship as the voice commanded.
*
For what seemed like days, Carter hid in the shadows of an empty room. But eventually, fear gave way to boredom, and cold logic dictated that staying in this room forever would only result in starvation. Seeing no other option and now thoroughly lost after running in circles for who knew how long, he resumed his exploration of the ship.
Turning a corner, Carter noticed an open door from which a ghostly light was glowing. He could just make out a drunkenly sung dirge emanating from within the room, sounding for all the world as though the singer's voice belonged to an old Earth pirate.
"Fifteen men on the dead man's chest—
...Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Drink and the devil had done for the rest—
...Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"
Carter was just getting ready to turn and leave when the voice called out. "Quit yer lollygagging and come inside, lad! I'm not going to kill you. Not yet, anyway!"
Carter considered running anyway but decided that this spirit at least seemed friendlier than the last. Besides, he really didn't have much to lose at this point.
Stepping inside the room, Carter found a feasting hall filled with torches burning an eerie green light. At the head of a long table sat a man whose visage matched his voice. He looked like an honest-to-god old-Earth pirate. He was covered in a well-worn uniform that might have belonged on a seventeenth-century sailing vessel, topped off with a tricorn hat sporting a grand feather that hung rakishly off the back end. To complete the image, he held a mug of some suspicious drink in one hand and what appeared to be a turkey leg in the other. He gestured to Carter. "Have a seat, lad, and join in my feast! Never let it be said that I didn't show hospitality to my guests!"
Looking at the long table between him and the ghost, Carter noticed what must have once been a grand feast laid out on the table. However, so much time had passed that most of the dishes were dust and bone. The few plates that had anything more substantial were covered in maggots and worms. Still, this seemed much more promising than anything else so far. At least this ghost seemed to want to talk.
After brushing a thick layer of dust off a seat, Carter sat down and addressed his host. "How about I just settle for the seat? While I appreciate the offer, your food seems too...rich for my stomach."
The pirate reached down to a skeleton that might have been a bird once and tore off a bone that materialized into what looked like a piping-hot turkey leg, tearing a chunk off the leg. He spoke through a mouthful of meat, spewing a healthy dose of saliva across the table as he did so. Thankfully, Carter was far enough away that he didn't find out if ghost spit left any stains. "So, you're one of those weak-in-the-stomach lads, are ya? You'd better toughen up if you want to sail through the depths of the void! Still, your loss means more for me!"
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The pirate took a long pull from the mug and glared at Carter with a hint of hunger gleaming in his eyes. "Now tell me, lad, what brings you to my humble abode?"
Carter debated lying. After all, his host seemed to have an affinity for pirates but ultimately decided that he'd always been blunt before, and there was no reason to stop now. "My ship got raided by pirates, and I barely got away in my escape pod. When I saw this ship, I had to choose between coming abroad or starving to death in my pod. It seemed like an easy decision at the time."
He had the pirate's attention now. "Tell me your story! Did ye captain a sturdy vessel with a stalwart crew?"
Carter sighed despondently. "Well, it's not sturdy as much as it was on its last legs, and I'm its only crew member."
The pirate's face fell a little, but he tried again. "So were ye set upon by a daring sloop manned by a swashbuckling daredevil?"
Carter shrugged. "I'm not sure what a sloop is, but their ship was big enough to swallow mine whole. There were probably seventy to a hundred pirates, not that I got a good count."
The pirate spit a glob of meat to the ground, which mercifully dissipated before making contact. "Bah, cowardly scallywags not deserving of the title pirate! The kind of men not fit to clean me boots, let alone eat at my table!"
Looking down at a dish in front of him, Carter picked up something vaguely resembling a biscuit topped with a writhing mass of maggots. "Oh, I don't know. This seems exactly like the food I'd like to feed those pirates!"
The pirate threw back his head and heartily laughed. "Good on you, lad! Good on you! You keep that fire in your belly and might just live through the night!"
That caught Carter's attention. "Yeah, about that. You're not the first ghost I've run into on this ship. The other one seemed a bit more...hostile."
The pirate laughed again. "And what makes you think I'm not hostile? Though I suppose I know what you mean. When the lady gets in one of her moods, she can be a real...." The pirate tilted his head to one side as if listening to something else momentarily before finishing his thought. "She can be a mite difficult to get along with." He finished with a lame grin that clearly said he'd initially been thinking of a different ending to that sentence.
The pirate startled Carter when he slammed his fists onto the table and stood up. "Well, enough, yammerin! I've got ships to haunt and weak-stomached lads to hunt. I'd best be off!"
With that, the pirate's skin seemed to slowly rot away until his bones showed through. Eventually, the last of the skin and muscle faded, leaving the bones in a pile on the floor, which then crumbled to dust and blew away in a wind that Carter couldn't feel.
Even the torches blew out, leaving the room in a silent, oppressive darkness. Carter decided he'd had enough of the rotting smell and got up to continue searching the ship.
*
Carter had been walking along one hallway after another for a while now. It was apparent he was being herded again, although this time, the ship seemed to be more polite about it. The path he was supposed to take was well-lit, and every door he passed was now locked. After walking an annoyingly long while, he looked up at the ceiling and addressed any listening spirits. "So, you know those nutrient bars I've been snacking on to stave off starvation? Well, I've got a different problem now. While I can take care of business in this hallway, I think we'd all be happier if you'd let me use a bathroom instead."
There was a brief pause, and Carter started to think the ship would try to call what was definitely not a bluff. Then, a door opened in the hallway up ahead. The restroom was as dusty as any other room onboard the ship, and the walls were caked in their characteristic rust and mystery stains, but the facilities worked well enough.
After checking his watch, Carter was surprised to see he'd been exploring this ship for over eight hours. Add the time he'd been awake in his escape pod, and he realized why he felt so exhausted. Evidently, he'd loitered on the toilet too long because the lights all turned out, leaving Carter in total darkness. With a sigh of exasperation, he spoke to the ceiling again. "Alright, alright, there's no time to relax. I got the message. Now, turn the lights back on so I can see what I'm doing unless you want to clean up the results!"
A single light turned on in the corner of the room. It was barely enough to see anything, causing Carter to grumble about petulant ghosts while he washed his hands before returning to his guided tour of the monotonous hallways.
*
Carter was so exhausted that he'd started to think about lying down in the hallway for a nap, regardless of any nearby spirits. However, his musings were interrupted when he finally seemed to reach his intended goal. This was clearly the ship's bridge. Though it was so shrouded in darkness, it was hard to distinguish anything other than a chair and a few nearby consoles.
What little of the room he could see was bathed in an eerie fluctuating glow emanating from the few working consoles. More stains were found here, but it was harder for Carter to convince himself they were grease when the old crew's bodies remained in the widest pools of dried fluids. What was left of their old uniforms were in tatters, and the bodies seemed to have mummified in the dry recycled air.
That was when all the lights went out, and Carter found himself again in near-total darkness. However, this time, there was a sound, specifically the sound of someone softly whimpering nearby.
Looking around the captain's chair, Carter could just make out the small form of a woman with her back turned to him, crying. Her shoulders were trembling as violent sobs wracked her frame. What skin he could see from behind was blemished and deathly pale. It barely stretched itself over her long, bony frame. Her hair was greasy and tangled, clinging to her flimsy blood-stained shirt in such a way that it almost hid her long, spindly fingers tipped with jagged fingernails wrapped around her shoulders.
Carter took one quick look at the woman before saying, "NOPE! Not playing this game!" He then raised his gun and shot the woman clean through her head.
Just as he'd expected, the bullet passed through, leaving only slight digitization in its wake.
The woman turned around and glared at him accusingly. "I can't believe you shot me!" Carter couldn't help but notice that she now looked a bit older and much healthier. She was pretty, in a girl-next-door sort of way.
Holstering his gun, now that it was apparent what he was dealing with, Carter countered her accusation. "I didn't shoot you! I shot through you! That's totally different!"
The woman was now flailing her arms about in exasperation. "What if I'd been a survivor? I could have been your only hope of surviving on this ghost ship, and instead, I'd be dead, lying in a pool of my own brain matter!"
Carter just waved her off. "Well, you're not dead! You're an AI, just like the other ghosts on this ship! Seriously, what's wrong with all of you?"
A familiar, sultry voice drew Carter's attention to his left. "I warned you that you were overplaying your hand. Now look, you've spoiled our fun. He's not playing along anymore..."
The voice belonged to a red-headed bombshell of a woman. She was wearing a back button-down overcoat with thigh-high leather boots. The glare she directed toward Carter was one of disdain and contempt. "Not that he would have lasted long anyway. This cockroach hardly seems worth the effort to avoid stepping on."
The first girl now wore her hair in a ponytail and sported an oversized pair of glasses, giving her a very bookish appearance. "It's not my fault! What kind of a madman just up and shoots a lone, vulnerable woman without any warning?!"
Another familiar laugh came from Carter's right. "I told ye the lad had a fire in his belly! That's what ya get for underestimating him!"
Carter looked back and forth between the three spirits he now realized were AI. "So what, you three run this ship?"
The girl answered, pushing her glasses higher onto her nose. "Close, but not quite."
Suddenly, all three AIs started moving and speaking in perfect sync. "Welcome aboard my ship. I am Sybil!" They finished with an identical, formal bow.
Carter looked at the pirate with one raised eyebrow. "Sybil?"
The pirate looked particularly glum as he answered. "Aye, two to one vote..."
Carter was trying to understand what was going on, but the lack of sleep compounded by physical exhaustion wasn't helping. "So let me get this straight. All three of you are named Sybil?"
The vixen's voice dripped with scorn. "He's not very quick, is he?"
The girl next door picked up where the vixen left off. "Of course not, since this barely makes sense to me. How could he be expected to understand it?"
Turning her attention back to Carter, the girl continued. "There is no we, only me. One AI, three faces."
Carter had had enough. "Wait, wait, wait... You mean you're all the same person...er AI? That doesn't make sense! Also, wasn't this ship haunting space long before AIs were even a thing?"
The pirate spoke up this time. "Ye better have a seat, laddie. This is going to be a long night for ye!"
*
At first, Alen thought the captain of the Magpie was showing him respect by entrusting him with finding more crew before their next voyage. In truth, Alen now suspected he was given this "honor" because the captain didn't want to waste time on such a fruitless venture when he could be out drinking instead.
Alen was sitting in front of the ship with a sign saying, "Help Wanted, No prior experience required." There were always people looking for work at a station like this one. People who'd gotten off on the wrong side of the galaxy and needed enough cash to afford a trip back to civilized space.
However, this old beat-up ship wasn't drawing the best crowds. Alen was thinking about giving up for the day when an honest-to-alien standing a full head and shoulders over most of the crowd stopped and looked at his sign.
This alien certainly stood out in the crowd, and not just because the crowd stared at him as they parted before the monster. In a more reputable port, he probably would have been flooded by officials or reporters who wanted to know more, but most people here were looking to avoid attention rather than attract it, so he just sauntered through without anyone so much as asking where he came from. He looked like some lizard, cat, and viking hybrid, covered in bony armored plates, and must have stood close to eight feet tall. As Alen's gaze traveled from the ground upward, he couldn't help but notice the dangerously sharp claws on the alien's feet, hands, and even elbows. The face staring down at him was grinning in what it probably thought was a friendly manner, but all the extra teeth and bony tendrils in the place of hair made Alen feel like he was being sized up for a snack instead. His voice came out in a guttural accent as though his throat had never been intended for Basic. "Got room for two?"
It took Alen a moment to puzzle out what the alien had said, but playing the voice over in his head, he could just make out the words. He wasn't sure if this was a good idea, but he was running low on options. "Uh, yeah, sure! I mean, yes, sir! Two would be perfect! Is your partner like you, or is he...human?"
The large cat/lizard/viking's grin grew slightly wider, displaying even more teeth than before. "Let me introduce you. Vanessa, get over here!" As the person he'd been speaking to came into view, Alen felt his jaw drop in surprise.
She was a walking nightmare. Standing six feet tall with her abdomen relaxed, she had a body like a spider, with a torso that could be mistaken for humanoid...if you squinted hard enough. However, in the full light of day, it looked like a praying mantis with an additional smaller pair of manipulating arms. This was a vitexrā! But what was one doing this far out in the middle of nowhere? They couldn't survive long outside the range of their hives, and the nearest hive was hundreds if not thousands of light-years away.
As she approached, she addressed the cat/lizard/viking alien. Despite speaking through a mouth filled with mandibles rather than teeth, she spoke perfect English. What made it more surreal was the fact that she spoke with a proper English accent. "Yes, my lady! How may I serve?"
Alen looked back at the cat/lizard/viking alien, his eyes wide and his mouth moving before he realized what he was saying. "Lady?"
The cat/lizard/viking looked down at Alen. "No, but I suppose that's not your fault. As far as I know, I'm the only one like me!"
Alen was scratching his head in confusion. "You're not female? Then why did the vitexrā refer to you as 'my lady?'"
The cat/lizard/viking heaved a sigh before responding. "Rather than wasting time explaining, watch this."
Turning to the vitexrā, the large alien commanded her, "Vanessa, stop referring to me as 'my lady!'"
The vitexrā bowed differently. "Yes, my queen!"
The cat/lizard/viking again commanded. "And don't call me queen!"
The vitexrā bowed again. "Yes, mistress!"
The bigger alien was practically growling more than talking now. "And don't call me mistress!"
Another bow. "Yes, my lady!"
Another growl. "Just call me Erik!"
Another bow. "Yes, lady Erik."
With another exasperated sigh, "Erik" gave up. "Just call me whatever you wish..."
This bow was lower and more formal, and the vitexrā's voice conveyed deep gratitude. "Thank you, my lady!"
As Erik turned to Alen, he looked like someone who'd suffered under a terrible burden for far too long. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure she's biologically incapable of addressing me in any other way. But Vanessa here has been by my side for as long as I can remember, and she's always done right by me, so I put up with it."
Alen had begun to grin, thinking that maybe this giant alien wasn't so scary after all, but that thought faded when Erik directed a glare toward Alen that could wither far braver men than himself. "Understand, she's the only one who gets a pass calling me that. Anyone else who tries to call me a lady had better be faster or stronger than I am, and just so you know, there isn't a human alive that can compare with me!" Erik grinned, and Alen suspected the alien might just be giving him a hard time, but he wasn't confident enough to test that theory.
Alen's mind was spinning. This was all too much to take in. Looking up at the giant alien, he changed the subject to the first thing that came to mind. "Your name is Erik? Really? I expected something more...I don't know...exotic?"
Erik glowered at Alen momentarily as if making up his mind about something before responding. "Yeah, well, I was raised by a bunch of pirates to be a pit fighter. Same with Vanessa here. They named both of us. Eventually, we fought our way free, killing a bunch of pirates in the process! If you want to know more than that, you'll have to get me good and drunk first, but I should warn you, there isn't a human alive who can drink anywhere near enough to put me under the table!"
This might be the worst decision of his life, but Alen simply had to know more about this impossible duo. "Well, Erik, Vanessa, welcome aboard! I'm sure we can find you a place on the crew!"
With a shake of Erik's massive hand, the deal was struck. As Alen watched Vanessa carry both sets of luggage aboard, he decided he needed to stock up on extra alcohol for this trip. If not for Erik, then certainly for himself.