Wraiths of Viking

[Hilfy]

Observation logs: 04-25-29474 – Viking hunter ship ISV Celestial Nomad IV
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Kirin sat tapping out the seconds as Trinity's Gamble inched its way towards the zone boundary. The converging lines blinking on Nav-Com systems indicated 12.8 minutes until they were outside sensor range of Viking's last ring of buoys.

"We're not going to make it." Marcus muttered.

"Shut it Marcus." Kirin snapped. The man was starting to seriously annoy him.

They had a good run in the Viking zone. The place was ridiculously low tech even for an asteroid mining colony, a pit stop in space. One station, two old station wrecks and a few buoys marking the lanes for out-system haulers. A hidden gem for raiding with long distance supply ships stopping over. Best of all, no one else was operating in the area.

"They know!" Marcus whined again from his post.

Kirin threw a sideways glance at his Nav-Com operator. Bloody hell, next port, the guy's having an accident.

"Ya see anything on your screens?" he asked.

"N-no" Marcus stuttered out, sweat glistening on his forehead, a white tautness around the mouth. The man was actually shaking.

Kirin cursed under his breath. The guy was making the rest of the crew nervous, he could see the sideways glances. For fucks sake, it was affecting him too. He felt like someone was watching, cold fingers slowly running down his spine. He felt nervous, like the first time he did a raid. He'd been all of 19 when they picked off a small luxury goods hauler and... He shook his head to clear it before checking his displays. Nothing near their plotted path, 9.7 minutes to the border. Marcus kept muttering at his station.

"Kirin, they're here. They know."  He insisted.

"That's it! Out. Belt down in cargo. Now!"

He punched in the code to transfer all of Nav-Com systems to his own display as Marcus scurried away. He looked over the scans again, nothing. He was on edge, he clenched his hands to keep them from shaking and tried to rein in his temper. This was easy, they'll be out of the area before anyone finds the ship. An accident, it just got off course and into the asteroid fields. Nav-Com systems failure. It happens, accidents happen. He was very good at making accidents happen.

His mind wandered from the Viking miner to the job just before it, and the one before that, and he shook his head to clear it again. Glancing around, the rest of the crew looked equally on edge. Nervous glances going all over, hands clenched white knuckled on the controls, heads occasionally shaking. They looked spooked.

The cold touch ran down his spine again and he shivered. His mind focused on the Viking miner, a small family run ship heading out with full holds for a 6-month mining run. Medical, food, a few small luxuries all with good resale value further out in space. Easy kill, fun time.

The cold feeling of being watched intensified. He turned on exterior cameras squinting at the displays. No ships on sensors or cameras, just a wide expanse of pitch black space. He let out a nervous chuckle, bloody ghost stories were getting to him. 5.2 minutes. He paused staring at the screen again, at an empty blackness devoid of stars.

"Bloody hell..." he swore and shivered again as the cold dug deep into him.

Kirin blinked smelling the burning insulation and blood from his memory. The wheezing sound of life support about to fail on a small mining ship. Droplets of blood tumbling slowly around a corpse in zero-g.

He sat lost in his memories as proximity alarms screamed their protest at the decloaking ship. A soft impact and the hull breach warnings added their own voice to the cacophony of alerts. Lost in memories, Kirin sat staring blankly at the screens.

A voice came through the communication systems, cold smooth and efficient.

"Trinity's Gamble. This is the ISV Celestial Nomad IV. Consensus reached. You have been found guilty of piracy in Viking space."