The Watcher

Ever feel like you're being watched?
That ship's still out there. 


Did I mention this boat has a gun? 

In Transit

You get that feeling don’t you, not only when people are tired but when they’re on edge, people holding their tempers in. That’s what it’s like here right now. We’re between ports, in transit to a backwater port, to do – most likely – backwater things. The furthest out into the Reaches I’ve ever been. The theory is we’ll be safer there. I hate theories.
     

I told you I’d tell you a little about the crew, so I’ll start with Frank Pak, 42, son of a mining-sloop helmsman and our ship’s captain. He comes from a little place called Sell-One, sounds like an instruction, doesn’t it? I met him in the military when he first joined up aged 17. I expected to be bunking with the normal type of callow little brat. You know what brats are like, all me, me, me. Only Frank was a serious kind of kid. The kind who thinks he has a lot to prove but isn’t quite sure who he’s trying to prove it to. His mother maybe, since she walked out on him when he was ten, left him behind more like. Odd how she took his brother with her. Frank doesn’t talk much about his brother. Never has. I think if they ever meet up, the bar they meet in is going to be rimed with frost, if you get what I mean.

Anyhow, I suppose the short version is Frank never really lived up to his potential, never tried to, though I’d never say that to his face. He got by, he never tried too hard, almost as if that was easier than trying and failing.
When his dad got himself killed, some insurance money was due and Frank decided it was time to leave the military and buy himself a little ship. So here we sit on The Nova. She’s always reminded me a little of her owner, a nearly-there ship, an almost-there-but-not-quite kind of a deal.

Is that cruel? I don’t like being cruel, not about Frank.

I’ll ramble on some more later (and apparently old RJ has a book extract link–try not to get too excited). That blip I mentioned, well it’s a long way out but it’s getting closer. No ID on it, which means whatever it is, it’s running dark. It might well be after us, for now with no jump-gate close, all we can do is sit. Wait and see what’s she’s after. She might be a pirate; she might be something military or something from the revolution. All of which is bad news for us.

Next up something else for you to digest if you’re in the mood. Politics, not my favourite, but RJ thinks you ought to know this stuff. A little rough draft extract from the beginning of our continuing adventures, or book 2, as old sour-face calls it.

My Name Is Foley.

All right, the basics then. I’ll be running this place, my name is Foley. For those of you who have no idea I come from a ship called The Nova. I had a little adventure with a few shipmates of mine it’s all documented in a book called The Nemesis List. It’s written by some hard-done-by drunk called RJ Frith. Least that how old RJ puts it. RJ doesn’t like people getting into RJ’s precious business so best we just poke at RJ now and again and run for the hills.


The book's something the publisher calls A Space Opera, but as I’m not much of a one for singing, I say Hell to that, it’s a near future thriller, that’s all you need to know. You can buy it if you like but don’t expect me to beg. I’m not that far into old RJ’s pocket I care to hand out any favours.


I’ll run through the rest of it later, some things you maybe ought to watch out for, some things you ought to pay attention to, like, Hell, is history everything you think it is these days? The past has a habit of getting twisted into knots, you know.


Meantime, a little about me. Am I handsome? Well, I am knocking on sixty now, and maybe my hair's a little grey and my temper gets a little short and a little sarcasm gets loose now and again but yes, I am handsome, dammit. There’s no point in denying the truth. When I was a kid I enlisted, I was a carrier brat on one of the big government ships and yes, I had some attention from the ladies. Lots even. No, I’m not going to describe myself now to my nasal hair. What’s the matter with you, don’t you have an imagination? Anyhow, now I’m the ship’s helmsman employed by Mr Frank Pak. A little about him later too and the rest of the crew.


For now chew on this, it’s the blurb from that publisher place. Once things are a little quieter I’ll come back and write some more, right now the ship’s just jumped and there’s this nasty little blip on one of my monitors. We have to lie low right now being fugitives. More on that later too…

Humanity has expanded into the stars but at the price of its freedom. An autocratic and overbearing Government now rigidly controls every technical and scientific advancement. Deviation is punishable by death.

Out on the edges of space, criminals thwart the law, making money out of illegal tech, their ships jumping from galaxy to galaxy to avoid detection. Ex-soldier Frank Pak doesn’t care about politics or breaking the law, he just wants to keep his ship running. When he’s offered a contract to escort a runaway back home to his loving family – he doesn’t ask questions.

But his cargo is more dangerous than he realizes. Jeven Jones is no ordinary passenger. A result of illegal human experimentation, he’s a fast-tracked evolutionary leap into future. Thanks to his ability for perfect recall and a series of mental skills that he has no control over, Jones is a wanted man. The Government wants him dead. A fledgling revolution want to use him to unlock every advancement the Government has ever denied them.

If Jones lives he’ll start a war. If he dies the entire future of humanity dies with him…