[ WP ] Sailors have always been a superstitious bunch . In the long stretches of darkness and isolation between stars superstitions still run high . So let 's hear a ghost story from deep space .

`` Boys, you ever hear of...'' Old Scar furtively looked left, then right, as it was bad luck for the Captain to hear the old story, `` the Madness?'' 
 
 The reactions were mixed, the older and more seasoned freighter crewmen were somber as their most venerable elder told the story. Men who had been on the ship long enough to see the blackness of space chuckled. Half the crew were greenhorns, virgins on their first deep space run. They looked nervous. 
 
 Old Scar wrung his hands, leaning in so the dim chemlight cast a frightening glow on his gaunt and protruding features. From the top of his forehead down to his chin was a thick white scar. No one ever knew the old engineer's name anymore but he knew the ship better than anyone alive or dead. 
 
 `` They say that in the darkest corners of space, at the edge of the Void, men go wild with fear and uncertainty. They see the eternal dark and just -'' he raised a hand and snapped his fingers, causing everyone to jump `` -lose it. Forty years ago a cruise ship ventured there, thinking it was the stories of fearful old men and'crazy' old sailors like me. Ten thousand people, staring into the Void. Ten thousand souls. According to legend they still float out there, mad and cannibalistic. The Madness. Every now and then we lose contact with a ship or settlement and find it empty.'' 
 
 `` The stories of an old engineer with too much time and not enough sanity!'' the Captain said it, entering the room to callous laughter of the crew as the tension was broken. 
 
 He glared at Old Scar who looked up with one milky eye, his face stuck in a perpetual scowl. 
 
 `` Get back to work, no more children's tales! We've got cargo and no time for this nonsense!'' 
 
 Grumbling and muttering curses, the crew returned to their posts while Old Scar limped on one half useless leg down the metal corridor. Each footstep clanged and echoed in the grimy light. 
 
 He remember his time on that cursed ship. The legend continued but no one believed. No one understood. 
 
 Past the starboard porthole he paused, staring out into the inky blackness. It was beautiful in it's own way. Some people were terrified by the darkness. Others fell in love with it. 
 
 Old Scar was indifferent. 
 
 The glimmer of metal caught his eye, a long way off. 
 
 It was white. 
 
 Hundreds of portholes and viewing windows. As the vessel closed the gap he recognized it. 
 
 A cruise ship. 
 
 Old Scar's scowl broke, a wry smile breaking across his leathery face. 
 
 They had come back.
