Jupiter's Ghost (eBook)

David Gwinn (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
236 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3178-0451-0 (ISBN)

Infos

2025 Storytrade Award Winner for Best Science Fiction When alien pilot Jóre joins a nebula whaling crew aboard a cursed starship, he must survive sabotage, monsters, and a mythic beast that's already destroyed one vessel-and isn't done yet.

Award-winning author and screenwriter David Gwinn grew up in rural Ohio, where his sense of adventure and imagination were sparked. His country boy upbringing and military experience fuel the stories he writes, from high-stakes thrillers to intergalactic warfare, crafting worlds where one feels like it is man against nature. With over 15 years of experience spanning action, sci-fi, fantasy, and thriller genres, David has built a reputation for powerful storytelling and sharp dialogue. His works include major studio features to indie gems. David holds a Master Screenwriting Certificate and a Professional Screenwriting Certificate, as well as an MBA from the University of Texas and a B.S. in Manufacturing Engineering Technology from the University of Dayton. When he's not building new worlds or punching up scripts, he's probably somewhere with a notebook in hand, chasing the next wild idea with the loving support of his family.

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In the Orion Nebula, death is written in the stars. Jore, an alien outcast, joins the nebula whaling ship Jupiter's Ghost a vessel haunted by loss and hunted by something far worse. Whispers speak of the Great Blue, a monstrous whale that shatters steel and devours entire ships. In a crew bound by desperation and old grudges, trust is scarce and survival is a thin hope. As Jupiter's Ghost sails deeper into Orion Nebula, the line between hunter and hunted fades, and Jore must decide how much of himself he's willing to sacrifice for glory and for revenge. Not all who sail into the nebula will return. Some dreams are meant to be swallowed whole.

Textauszug

Chapter 1

Space Station Avalon

 

On board shuttle two-four-one, Jóre gazed out one of the large viewports as the sleek, white hull of Avalon Space Station filled the frame, its sprawling modules and docking bays glinting like a miniature city in the darkness. The station’s rotating sections created a mesmerizing pattern of light and shadow. Yet, as Jóre beheld the station’s grandeur, a creeping sense of doubt began to erode his excitement. Nearly three months of travel, and now his destination was within reach, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was making a grave mistake.

The shuttle’s speakers crackled to life, interrupting Jóre’s introspection. “All shuttles, be advised. There is a tow operation underway. Stay clear of platform six. Repeat, all incoming vessels, stay clear of platform six,” the voice of the station’s traffic control echoed through the cabin, the words laced with a hint of urgency.

“What in the name of the cosmos happened there?” a woman said quietly as she looked out the viewport on the other side of the shuttle.

Jóre’s head swiveled to the only other passengers, a mother with her young daughter who was jumping around with her stuffed animal, eager to visit her father on Avalon Station. Most of the shuttle was filled with cargo.

Jóre walked over to the other side of the shuttle. Surprisingly, they had gravity on their large shuttles. He gazed out the viewport, where the Luminari’s tow cables stretched out like delicate threads, holding the crippled Cosmicari in a gentle yet unyielding grasp.

Curiosity gaining the better of him, Jóre poked his head into the cockpit, his purple-tinted iridescent skin catching the pilot off guard. The pilot’s eyes widened, and he let out a startled yelp, his hand instinctively reaching for the comms panel before he relaxed, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Sorry, didn’t know you were back there. I guess I should look and see who I’m transporting once in a while, right?” he said, his voice tinged with embarrassment. Jóre’s large white eyes took in the cockpit’s array of instruments and displays.

“Forgive the intrusion, but could you tell me what happened to that ship?” Jóre asked politely.

The gruff pilot shook his head, his double chin jiggling like a bowl of gelatin as his neck twisted in a slow, sweeping motion. “By the size of that mark on the bow, I’d say they took on a nebula whale and lost,” he growled, his voice like a low rumble of thunder.

Jóre’s gaze snapped back to the ship, his eyes fixed on the mangled hull as it filled the front viewport. “Nebula whale? That big?” he asked, his voice a mix of awe and skepticism.

The pilot nodded, a sly grin spreading across his weathered face like a crack in a worn leather saddle. “Yep. They say there’s a monster of a whale lurking somewhere out there, a behemoth with a hunger for ships and a taste for steel,” he finished, snapping his stained teeth together for emphasis, the sound echoing through the cockpit like a pistol crack. His eyes glinted with a knowing light, as if he’d seen the horrors of the deep himself and lived to tell the tale. “You Fralie?”

“Yes. I’ve come to join a whaling ship,” Jóre explained, causing the pilot to laugh.

“Whaling, huh? Well, good luck. Whaling is a dangerous business. Make sure you serve on a ship with a good captain or you might end up like that charred hunk of metal,” the pilot warned.

Jóre’s gaze returned to the viewport, his eyes drawn to the crippled Cosmicari. Small explosions erupted across the ship’s hull, casting flickering shadows on the surrounding space. The bursts of sparks illuminated the extent of the damage, displaying the grisly and horrific scene that happened within.

Yet, even as the destruction unfolded before him, Jóre felt an inexplicable pull, a deep-seated compulsion to press on. It wasn’t too late to turn back, to abandon his decision and possibly not face the same fate. But something within Jóre, a spark of curiosity, refused to let him leave.

The shuttle docked at Avalon Space Station. Moments after his departure, Jóre found himself in the middle of a hurried, mostly human, crowd. He walked further into the station, scanning the people as they walked past, trying to determine where to go next. His skin shimmered under the harsh docking bay lights as he moved swiftly across a bridge leading to the station’s security checkpoint.

Jóre wore a sleek black, almost military-like suit to help him blend in with the others around him, yet it didn’t help. In his right hand, he carried a charcoal gray, well-used sport-sized bag. His eyes, unnaturally white, sparkled under the station’s harsh lights above. Though his face bore no expression, his demeanor exuded an air of superiority that he was different from the humanity around him.

Jóre continued, pausing when he heard a loud, screeching alarm from the deck below. He peered over the side of the bridge, watching several personnel in blue medical uniforms rush toward the designated nebula-ship docking bay. People around him all paused, all gossiping about the ship that was being towed into base.

Jóre watched the crowd grow around him as the medics on the level below raced survivors to safety. No one looked the least bit interested in his exotic appearance, their attention solely on watching the horrors unfold below them. He might have been alone among the crowd, but for that moment he felt like just another person. The crowd erupted in horrific gasps as the medical crew began to carry out black bags filled with the remains of the dead crew.

“Come on, people. There’s nothing to see here. Move along,” a security officer called, forcing the gathering crowd to disperse. The officer paused when he reached Jóre, who was anxiously waiting to speak to him. “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice hard and his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Jóre retrieved a badge from his breast pocket, flashing it at the guard. The officer scanned the badge with his security scanner, and a green light flashed, indicating that all was well. His stern eyes turned back to Jóre. 

“A badge like that doesn’t come cheap. What’s your purpose on the station?” the officer requested.

The badge was typically only issued to high-ranking military or politicians on Jóre’s world. His family happened to be highly placed in society, which allowed him to attain one with ease. It certainly made traveling as an alien a lot easier. And even though Jóre knew he didn’t need to answer the officer’s question, he said, “I am seeking a position on one of your whaling ships. I was informed they often dock here.”

“Well, they’re not mine. But, by all means.” The officer raised an amused eyebrow. “Try deck seventeen, in the Nebula Section. That is, once all this chaos has subsided. You’ll find a lot of the crews from those whaler ships unwinding in the taverns there,” he replied, vaguely waving his hand in the direction.

Jóre nodded his appreciation and continued toward the Nebula Section of the station, not wanting to get in the way of the commotion on the deck below. As he hurried through the station, the recycled air within was tinged with the scents of humanity, from the foods they ate to the perfumes they wore to mask their natural and unnatural odors. 

On the port side of the station, Jóre found the Nebula Section. The area wasn’t as seedy as most Jóre had visited in the past, not that he made a habit of visiting those types of areas. The area was designed to resemble old whaling taverns of Earth. Images of nebula whales and whale bones adorned the taverns. Some of the images were moving, especially the signs that hung above the taverns’ doors, but most were murals painted onto the walls. The bones from long-dead creatures added an authentic touch, many of the large ones being used as signposts. However, the view of Saturn through the thick, meteorite-proof windows was a constant reminder that this was no ordinary corridor.

Jóre paused at the doorway of a pub, having been enticed by the loud celebration of voices within. He hesitated, if only for a moment, before entering. Within, the bar and tables were crafted from natural wood, harvested from Earth, and brought to the station when it was under construction. However, the dark wood felt out of place with a backdrop of stars directly behind it.

Inside the tavern, the crowd differed from those he had encountered in the promenade. Most sat around tables, drinking and playing cards. They all look as if they had been born in space and never experienced the light of day or smelled air that hadn’t been recycled. Two rather large men sat in the back of the tavern, engaged in an arm-wrestling competition as a crowd gathered around them, betting on the outcome.

Jóre continued over to the bartender. He was a thick man with a heavy belly and more white hair around his chin than on the top of his head. When he noticed Jóre, he immediately poured a blue-colored liquid into a double-shot glass without being requested. Jóre was about to refuse, but the man insisted.

“This one is on the house, my fine purple patron. I’m Peter, the humble owner of this here tavern,” he introduced, his voice friendly yet slightly curious.

“I am called Jóre. Thank you,” he said, taking a sip of the drink.

Peter stared at Jóre with a curious gaze. “We don’t see many of your kind around these parts. What brings you to the station?”

Jóre cringed as he felt the liquor roll down his...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 23.5.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Science Fiction
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3178-0451-0 / 9798317804510