Ghosts of the Past...

[Kane]

The signal went out, and people noticed. Bounty Hunters debated profit over danger, pirates talked of betrayal, the Navies spread the word, and a little ripple was started.

Eventually the signal reached an enormous object, hidden within the vastness of space and exact position not known. The signal flew down and was caught by a tower protruding from the object. There, it was analyzed, discussed, pondered, then shuffled off to the interior. Deep inside the Dyson Sphere, the signal reached the ears of the one it was made for.

DarkStar merely raised an eyebrow at the message.

"Is he really that despite? So infuriated with me that he can no longer do the work himself?" DarkStar gave a vicious smile. "It would seem that our friend Luciaden is beginning to become annoyed. How fortunate. The angrier someone get's the more likely they are to screw up."

He waved the message aside. "But no matter. We have vastly more important things to consider then rivals bruised ego's." DarkStar contemplated the holo-screen in front of him. Upon it lay all the information that the Phantoms had gathered about the Miralukan ships. Not much, but just enough to formulate a plan. One that would hopefully gain them more information.

"DarkStar to bridge."

"Yes sir?"

"Prepare to get the Oblivion under way. We shall set our trap outside the Sphere, where we shall not disturb our hosts with missed shots."

"Aye sir."

"Oh, and has there been any activity from our 'guest'?"

"No sir. Not since we lost the sensor probe."

DarkStar had ordered a sensory drone sent out to find out what that strange shadowy ship was doing. The probe barely got within range before an energy spike was detected and the drone was lost. Ever since then, they had observed as best they could with long-range scanners. It wasn't much, but it was enough to verify that the ship hadn't done anything since it destroyed the probe. Thus, with little reason to retaliate, it was left alone. Even the Nomads left it alone. Something about it being completely devoid of any psychic 'presence' that the Nomads used to identify things.

"Very well. Take us to the Gate, and contact Blood and Glock. We'll be staging the trap soon."

"Aye sir."

DarkStar cut the channel to the bridge and shut down the projector. He would need quiet to establish the link he was about to forge. He concentrated, searching for that familliar presence out in the void...

Yes, Enlightened One?

"I must ask a favor."

Speak, and we shall grant it.

"I require a Surgeon."

So soon? Were the recent improvements not satisfactory?

"No, the upgrades are perfect as usual. I require one to set a trap."

For whom?

"The Miralukan."

There was silence after this one.

They still exist?

"Not exactly... Ghost ships of theirs have been everywhere lately, attacking and destroying just about anything they come into contact with."

Can you assure the Surgeon's safety?

"Yes, my lords."

Then we shall send you one.

"Thank you masters."

Be cautioned; Should our Surgeon die and you do not, then the consequences will be dire.

"I understand."

The link was broken, and DarkStar returned to the physical world.

"Now, all that is left is to make sure everything else goes according to plan."

He walked down to the docking bays, and found the assault transport he was looking for.

"Sergeant!"

The Powered Armor suited marine looked up. "Sir?"

"How go the preparations?"

"Well, my lord. We shall be ready to go as soon as you wish."

"Excellent. Where is Raf'el?"

"Inside sir, checking over the equipment."

"Very well. Be ready to move out as soon as the Surgeon arrives."

"As you command."

DarkStar smiled. Yes, this would go very nicely.

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This is the real true story of rock and roll; it was not about anything more then, how to live your life, as a gangster, in sartorial splendor, and turning the world into a place where normality would never return again...- Malcolm McLaren