Black Oak Media has just released the new anthology
Hunting Ghosts: Thrilling Tales of Paranormal Investigation - featuring a brand new
Alibi Jones story by yours truly!
"Alibi Jones and the Ghost In The Machine" is the new tale: A hulking, ancient, abandoned alien ship appears at the edge of human space. A ship approaching the wreck gets a terrifying visitation - a ghostly form begs them, "Don't let me die AGAIN!"
Now, the Solar Alliance Interplanetary Force tasks Alibi and his crew with an investigation of the ancient dreadnought...
Available now as an eBook - coming out in paperback in early 2013! Get it at:
Amazon Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/Hunting-Ghosts-Thrilling-Paranormal-ebook/dp/B00AQ18N3E/
B&N Nook:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hunting-ghosts-buck-weiss/1113994150?ean=2940016107608
Kobo eBooks:
http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Hunting-Ghosts/book-uGOCvbAo-kuRzyeHhop3sg/page1.html?
Here's a taste of the story:
ALIBI JONES AND THE GHOST IN THE MACHINE
By Mike Luoma
“I just saw
Mac.”
“Mac?”
“Mac. My old
boyfriend.”
“The bad ex?
Out here? What, he bothering you again? Calling you on the com? I
warned him about...”
“No. Not him.
The one before him. Peter MacDonald.”
“The SAIF
Captain? But I thought... isn't he? He died.”
“Yup.”
“So how did
you 'just' see him? Watching old footage?”
“Alibi, tell
me... Do you believe in ghosts?”
***
Reality
rippled.
Space blurred,
refocused, readjusted around an ebony shape as it materialized and
obscured the velvet black, purple-red nebula beyond it. The hulking
alien leviathan, an interstellar traveler of ancient appearance,
loomed over the Librecampista and Librecampista de Dos,
two small cargo vessels owned by the “Independent” Hector Ruiz.
Hector
captained the interstellar trading ship Librecampista, had for
over ten years, plying trade lanes around and across the border of
the Solar Alliance near Depot colony. His long-trusted associate Bob
Bond piloted the other ship. Both men would bristle if you called
them pirates. They didn't steal from other people, but didn't always
operate above the law, either. Like most people around the borders of
the Solar Alliance, they got by.
As their new
visitor appeared, surprising them, Bond began running every scan
available to him from the bridge of the Librecampista de Dos.
The new arrival could be a threat. Could be harmless. Hard to know.
Thing was mammoth and tenebrous enough to seem a threat. Something
about it rubbed Bond the wrong way. It felt like death.
Bond called
over to Hector's vessel as he scanned incoming data.
“Holy...
Hector, you seeing this?” Bond asked. “That's one giant, dead old
ship out there!”
“Seein' what,
Bobby?” Hector said. He peered at the viewscreen in front of him,
trying to make out any details in the inky black surface of the new
arrival.
“Very funny,
Hector,” Bond said.
“Space junk,
amigo,” Hector said. “Could be some serious salvage money.”
“That thing
is huge!” Bond said. “I don't know, Hec – there's something not
right about it.”
“It's dead.
Inert. Muerto. Didn't know you were so superstitious, Bobby,”
Hector ribbed his friend. “You sound like my mother!”
“Tell you
what. You want it? You can have it. We're going back to Depot.”
“What?”
Hector asked. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
“It looks...
wrong,” Bond said. “All wrong, Hector. I don't know how else to
put it. I'm sorry, Hector. You want the salvage, it's all yours.”
“If I find
something worth hauling off of there, you're comin' back to help, you
hear?” Hector warned him.
“Maybe,”
Bond said.
Hector watched
as the Librecampista de Dos turned and flew off far enough to
safely make the jump into Transpace. Then it disappeared.
“You're a
superstitious old woman, Bobby!” Hector shouted at the com. Bond
would hear the message once he crossed back out of Transpace.
“All right.
Let's see what's up,” Hector said to his crew. “Bring us in
closer to that thing.”
“Looks like
someone's been here before us,” Hector said as he squinted at an
unexpected feature mounted on the side of the shipwreck. On the
screen in front of him searchlight dots from the Librecampista
played over a small section of the alien vessel's surface,
occasionally lighting up an incongruously normal, human-sized airlock
door. “That's a portable airlock someone installed in this old
cascabillo,” Hector said.
“Work of the
SAIF Corps of Engineers,” Hector's ship's own engineer, Dr. An
Ryoshi, said from her perch on one of the passenger seats at the back
of the bridge. The trading ship's crew of six were all gathered on
the bridge. Each wanted to see more of the spooky old ship that had
appeared outside. “At least, looks like their work. From here,”
she added.
Hector brought
the Librecampista closer in to the giant old wreck. His
copilot Janice ran new scans on the anachronistic airlock as they
drew nearer.
“Definitely
SAIF handiwork,” Janice said. “Few years old.”
The lights on
the bridge dimmed.
“What the?
Janice, what's going on?” Hector demanded.
“Power
drain!” she said. “We're getting drained – power plant is down
to eighty percent power.”
Ryoshi stepped
up to the console next to Hector. She appropriated one of the
floating viewscreens and began looking through incoming scanning
data.
The lighting
dimmed more.
“Seventy-five...
and dropping, Hector!” Janice warned.
“If it's that
ship that's draining us, we're not detecting any connections,”
Ryoshi said. “And no sign of an energy build-up over there.”
“Dios mio...
if?” Hector said, exasperated. “Something's draining our power!
Bet it's that ship. Easy bet!” He punched at the bridge controls.
The
Librecampista turned around and began pulling away from the
old hulk.
“Tell me when
the power drain stops,” Hector said to Janice. “Is it slowing
down as we move away?”
“Yeah. Looks
like,” Janice said.
The trading
ship continued pulling away from the old wreck.
“Okay, it's
stopped,” Janice said, after just over a minute had passed. “The
draining effect has ceased. We're at sixty-eight percent power, but
we're not losing any more.”
“Nor are we
gaining power back, however,” Ryoshi said, nodding at the controls
in front of her. “We should keep moving so the power reserves can
build back up.”
Hector nudged
the controls to keep the ship moving away.
One of the
hired muscle spoke up.
“Not getting'
any brighter,” Mercer said as he looked around the dimly lit
bridge.
'Neither are
you,” the other muscle, Swenson, snarked at his fellow Security and
Handling Officer.
“Shut it, you
two,” Hector said.
He was
beginning to feel the same sense of unease Bob Bond had been
describing. Just an uneasy feeling that something wasn't right.
Something was wrong.
He felt cold.
Their eyes were
blinded as a pillar of light appeared and glared a sickly greenish
yellow in the center of the bridge. The light became a blurred and
strangely shaped man, and then seemed to focus. In the middle of the
room stood a translucent green astronaut, in a helmeted SAIF EVA
suit.
Hector could
not make out any details of the phantom astronaut's face inside of
the helmet. If the ghostly astronaut even had a face. The figure
raised its right arm, as if grabbing for the crew of the
Librecampista.
“No!” The
figure rasped in a rough mechanical voice. “Don't let me die! Don't
let me... die again!”
“Dios Mio!”
Hector gasped. He turned back to the ship controls.
Hector punched
in a Transpace jump and prayed they were far enough away from the
gravity footprint of the old ship to make it clean. As the engines
complained at the sudden demand for Transpace, Hector also prayed the
ghostly green astronaut would go away when they jumped.
“No!” the
glowing green apparition cried. “Don't let me die AGAIN!”
***
Alibi Jones sat
on the bridge of his Cruiser watching footage from the mission
package sent by SAIF Command. His Covert Ops team's members were
posing as independent contractors to work openly with the Project and
the Solar Alliance Interplanetary Force on this current
investigation, as a favor to his aunt Anita. His Cruiser was
masquerading as the Free Trader A.D. Foster, working the Depot
trade routes.
The recording
in front of Alibi alternated between a humorless man with a severe
crew-cut in a SAIF Commander's uniform and an Independent Trader
dressed in flamboyant maroon, gold and black.
“A haunted
ship? Are you kidding me?” Garrison Commander Sharkovski asked.
Alibi knew the
man was still new to his post, appointed a few months ago after a
corruption scandal cleaned out the old SAIF hierarchy on Depot. He
obviously didn't suffer fools.
“You want me
to believe there's some kind of old, haunted ship out there?”
Sharkovski said.
“Look, man, I
know you're new there, I get it. Respect. You don't have to tough-guy
me,” Hector Ruiz said. “Maybe you don't realize this, but I'm an
Independent – ain't my habit to call in to the SAIF garrison to
chit-chat. Just trying to tell you there's some sort of old alien
husk floating out at those coordinates I sent ya. And some kind of
spaceman ghost with it that appeared on my bridge, saying 'don't let
me die'! It was messed up!”
“What sort of
cargo are you carrying, Independent?” Shakovski asked.
“Hallucinogens?”
Alibi laughed
as he switched off the footage. His feline-like Dakhur co-pilot Kat
appeared on the bridge and made his way up to his flight seat on
Alibi's right.
“What are you
watching?” Kat asked. “Some more of your human com-eh-deeee?”
“Not
exactly,” Alibi said. “The mission package. The first report of
the 'alien derelict' – our 'ghost ship' – at least this time
around.”
“This time?”
Kat asked. “I did not realize there was another time.”
“Yeah,”Alibi
said. “It appeared before. About five years ago. No talk of any
ghosts back then, though, according to the reports. No talk of
anything, really.”
Kat cocked his
head to the side, inquisitive.
“None of it
was made public knowledge. I never heard anything about it, myself,”
Alibi explained. “Another covert ops team investigated back then.
But most of them didn't make it back. Commander of the mission
actually got ripped in half.”
“Yeoewerrr,”
Kat growled.
...
CONTINUED in the anthology Hunting Ghosts!
Available now as an eBook - coming out in paperback in early 2013! Get it at:
