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Elite Dangerous

Elite Dangerous
CMDR_M's avatar

Many thanks for another great write-up!

Also, I've corrected the YT video settings so that they can be embedded now :)

Alex Sinclair's avatar

Much appreciated CMDR_M. I've just embedded them!

LiquidMorkite's avatar

Thank you for the mention! o7

If this was ever hosted again I have another story to tell which is not thargoid-related ;)

LiquidMorkite's avatar

I posted it on Inara a while ago, a friend of mine was attacked and almost lost his ship when we were on an expedition 7000ly out of the bubble

Y0EMINENCE's avatar

Here’s a tale that weaves together the eerie legend of ghost pirates with the vast, star-spanning universe of Elite Dangerous. Settle in, Commander, and let’s venture into the void where the living and the dead collide.

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In the year 3309, the galaxy buzzed with rumors of a derelict ship drifting near the edge of the Pleiades Nebula. Known only as the Specter’s Fortune, it was said to be a relic from the early days of humanity’s expansion into the stars—an Anaconda-class vessel lost centuries ago during a ill-fated expedition to chart unclaimed systems. Pilots on the X network whispered about strange transmissions emanating from its last known coordinates: garbled voices speaking in archaic tongues, overlaid with static that sounded disturbingly like cannon fire. Most dismissed it as spacer superstition, but for one Elite Dangerous commander, CMDR Elias Varkis, the lure of untold riches and a good mystery was too strong to resist.

Elias was a seasoned pilot, his Asp Explorer kitted out with top-tier scanners and a reinforced hull from years of bounty hunting and exploration. He’d heard the tales—pirates from Earth’s ancient seas, cursed to roam the cosmos after plundering a fortune in gold and alien artifacts, their ship torn from history and spat out into the stars. The Specter’s Fortune was supposedly their vessel, eternally crewed by spectral marauders who preyed on any fool daring enough to approach. Elias didn’t believe in ghosts, but he did believe in profit. A ship that old could hold tech or data worth millions on the black market.

Setting his nav-computer to the Pleiades, Elias dropped out of supercruise near a faint distress signal flickering on his radar. There it was: the Specter’s Fortune, a hulking silhouette against the nebula’s violet glow. Its hull was pockmarked and scorched, yet intact—impossibly so for a ship centuries abandoned. His sensors pinged wildly, detecting no heat signatures or life signs, but as he maneuvered closer, his comms crackled to life unbidden.

“ Avast, ye scurvy dog,” rasped a voice, thick with an accent Elias couldn’t place. “Turn back, or join our crew ‘neath the black flag eternal.”

Elias smirked, chalking it up to a prank or pre-recorded loop. He deployed his scanner drones, aiming to peel back the ship’s secrets. The readouts confirmed it was an Anaconda, outdated by modern standards, but its cargo hold registered an anomaly—massive energy spikes inconsistent with any known material. Intrigued, he suited up and jettisoned toward the wreck in his SRV, breaching its docking bay through a jagged tear in the hull.

Inside, the air—or lack thereof—was still, yet Elias swore he felt a chill through his Remlok suit. The corridors were lit by flickering emergency lights that shouldn’t have functioned after so long. Rusty chains dangled from the ceiling, and crates stamped with pre-Federation insignias littered the floor. Then he saw them: translucent figures clad in tattered coats and tricorn hats, wielding weapons that looked like muskets fused with plasma tech. Ghost pirates, straight out of a holovid nightmare.

“Ye’ve trespassed on our hoard,” one snarled, its eyeless sockets gleaming with malice. “Now ye pay the toll.”

Before Elias could react, the figures opened fire—not with bullets, but with bursts of spectral energy that shorted out his suit’s shields. He bolted, heart pounding, as the ship itself seemed to awaken. Bulkheads slammed shut, and the Anaconda’s thrusters roared to life, dragging his tethered Asp Explorer along like a fish on a line. Over his comms, the ghostly captain bellowed, “We sail the void forever, and ye’ll sail with us!”

Elias wasn’t one to surrender. Back in his cockpit after a desperate scramble, he wrestled control from the spectral hijackers, boosting away as the Specter’s Fortune gave chase. Its cannons—ancient yet impossibly functional—blasted volleys of shimmering projectiles that tore through his shields. The galaxy’s physics bent as the ghost ship matched his every maneuver, defying inertia and fuel limits. In a last-ditch move, Elias punched his Frame Shift Drive, praying the jump would shake them.

The stars stretched, and he emerged in a random system, panting, his Asp battered but intact. The Specter’s Fortune was gone—no signal, no trace. Checking his logs later, he found a single cargo canister had somehow transferred to his hold during the chaos: a chest of Thargoid sensor fragments and gold ingots etched with pirate runes. Worth a fortune, sure, but as he sold it off in Maia, he couldn’t shake the feeling that eyes—dead, hollow eyes—were watching from the void.

Word spread on X among Elite Dangerous players: beware the Pleiades, where ghost pirates guard their cursed loot. Some called Elias a hero; others, a madman. But every so often, a new post would surface—a blurry holo-capture of an Anaconda drifting in the dark, its decks alive with spectral silhouettes, waiting for the next soul bold enough to claim their treasure.

---

What do you think, Commander? Want to hunt the Specter’s Fortune yourself, or got another tale you’d like me to spin?

Grok 3 beta, my official ghost pirate faction

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