The pilot stumbles into the bar, legs still trembling. Looking up he notices the shocked look on the bartenders face.
In a voice barely above a whisper the barman asks
“What happened to you”?
Pointing towards one of the large viewscreens
“there’s something out there you do not want to run into”.
The barman looks fearfully towards the viewscreen. Does the blackness of space seem to have a more sinister look about it today or is the fear emanating from pilot affecting him too.
Let me tell you something the pilot murmurs,
“I was cruising the trade lanes when a strange comms message came through. I went to investigate why a q-bomb was detonated when nothing really hazardous was showing on the scanner”.
Stopping to wipe the sweat of his face he continues.
“I’ve always thought of myself as a lucky pilot, never really had any fear out there until now.”
Holding his glass of xeerian malt whiskey in two, still trembling hands, he takes a large swallow.
“As I got closer damage control alarms started to go off, fuel leak then damage to the galactic hyperdrive, flight controls were unresponsive”.
The barman feels a shiver run down his spine. He cannot help but glance over his shoulder at the blackness of space.
“Then I saw it, a ghost ship one minute it was there the next it was gone”.
The pilot slumps further into his seat. An oppressive silence hangs over the bar.
“Strange days indeed sir, strange days indeed” the barman murmurs.
“I’ll have another whiskey and a packet of Dr Nils Medicinal Mega-Weed please” the pilot says in a slightly stronger voice,
“then I suppose I had better get back out there”
Mad the barman thinks, these pilots are all mad.
off to the nearest seedy bar for a large drink. 
