The smoky old glass bulb purchased atop the communications terminal slowly shimmers to life with the warm radiant glow of amber light. Hunched behind it, the pallid grey colour of the ghost crew’s face is illuminated starkly against the vast blackness of the nearly empty room. It is strewn with crumpled pages of notes, coordinates and reference books. The centuries old communications terminal is tucked back in an alcove out of sight of all the rest of the SIGINT personnel in the cavernous terminal bay. With a grunt of satisfaction the ghost slumps back into his chair. The leather is cracked and worn, the stuffing pulling free from the seat cushion. Long ragged pulls of raspy leather can he felt roughly under the ghosts finger tips. Endless hours spent worrying the leather has resulted in a palm sized gash on both arm rests. The steady glow of the lone bulb bathes the man in a dim liquid honey light. With deep black and purple bags under his eyes, and a puffy pair of dry red eyes the man has almost nothing left to give. Well beyond the extremes of his physical training, and straining to the core of the depths of his synaptic brainwashing the ghost is flickering between fits of haphazard wakefulness and brain damaged illusion. Over the last eight weeks of searching, not knowing exactly what he is looking for something has returned his radio ping.
The e-field releases an incredible charge of static energy into the near void as the monolithic behemoth known as Kelvin materializes into the Sol system after an unknown quantity of time. It has crossed vast distances of time, space, dimensions and reality. The ablative writhing skin of the vessel reflecting much of the radiation and energy back out catches a fleeting tingle of something old, and unfamiliar. With little thought it bounces these modest radio waves back into the ether with nary another thought.
First contact has been made. Like the breath of a gnat on the back of a humpback whale, it goes unnoticed. Now the real struggle begins.
Part eight: Ghost of the Dirty Starling.
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