Alibi Jones and the Hornet's Nest

By Mike Luoma

"Don't let me die – again!"

Specter? Projection? On the edge of human space floats an ancient alien derelict. A Ghost Ship? Those who get too close are visited by a glowing green translucent figure who begs, "Don't let me die – again!"

Alibi Jones was a Mediator for the Solar Alliance Interplanetary Force in the 2130's – but that's about to change. Foster son of the former leader of the Solar Alliance, the new S.A. administration makes an example of him after news gets out Alibi is partly responsible for the destruction of pleasure planet Kismet. Bounced out of his career in the Mediation Corps, Alibi's reassigned to Covert Ops. His cover: running cargo out past the colony world Depot, on the Fringe, from a new remote base – The Hornet's Nest!

Alibi Jones gets to know his new crew as they get a handle on running small cargoes and cover operations. Gluttonous planetary crime lords, alien parasites and symbiotes, psychics and scientists, galactic Godfathers, friendly free traders, astral travel - and a Business Manager Alibi married and grew old with in another life (long story) who also has something to do with that ghost (longer still) – lots going on out beyond the borders of the Solar Alliance.

When they get assigned to check out the so-called "ghost ship", people start dying. Again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Luoma
• Release date: May 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311023223

Mike Luoma

Mike Luoma writes science fiction, among many other things, somewhere off in the wilds of Northern Vermont. The Star Seeds of Earth is his newest, the fourth novel and sixth book in The Adventures of Alibi Jones, which followed The Vatican Assassin Trilogy. Mike also creates comics with artists from around the world, including issues of The Adventures of Alibi Jones and a graphic novel adaptation of the novel Vatican Assassin.An Alibi Jones short story was recently included in Always Punch Nazis Volume 2 from Pilot Comics. Mike also wrote the acclaimed title Souverain with artist and creator Ben Ferrari for Earthbound Comics. Mike's other graphic novels include Good Samaritan: Unto Dust and "Introducing... RED HOT!" from Glow-in-the-Dark Radio Comics.Mike narrates his books week-by-week on his free, long-running Glow-in-the-Dark Radio podcast, and is also the narrator for each of his widely available audiobooks. You can find his books, narrated by Mike, wherever fine audiobooks are sold.

Book preview

Chapter One

Deep space.

Reality rippled.

The void blurred, refocused, and readjusted. An ebony shape materialized amidst the glowing crimson, black and indigo clouds of a nebula. Out of nothing came a hulking alien leviathan, ancient in appearance.

The huge interstellar traveler loomed over two small cargo vessels. Independent trader Hector Ruiz owned and captained the interstellar trading ship Librecampista – had for over ten years, plying trade lanes around and across the border of the Solar Alliance near humankind's Depot colony. His long-trusted associate Bob Bond ran his other ship, the Librecampista de Dos. They'd bristle if you called them pirates – they didn't steal from others – but they didn't always operate within the law, either. Like most folks trying to make their living around the borders of the Solar Alliance, they got by.

Surprised by their visitor's sudden appearance, Bond began running every scan available on the bridge of the Librecampista de Dos – the new arrival could be a threat.

Then again? Could be harmless. Hard to know, he said to himself. The thing outside was mammoth, and glistening black. It felt like a threat to Bond. Something about it rubbed him wrong, felt like... death.

Bond called over to Hector's vessel as he surveyed the incoming data.

Holy... Hector, you seeing this? Bond asked. That's one giant, dead, old ship out there!

Seein' what, Bobby? Hector said.

Hector peered at the viewscreen in front of him on the bridge of the Librecampista, 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 far enough off to safely make the shift into Transpace. 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.

Alibi Jones let loose a bored sigh.

He flipped through news feeds, looking for something to watch. The players in his aunt's rooms on Ceres Central had every possible human news source one could find.

There was still nothing on.

Alibi could hear his aunt in his mind.

There is no such thing as boredom. Only boring people.

He didn't know who she was quoting, but he hated them all the same.

He was bored, and it wasn't his fault.

Well, he said to himself. Not entirely.

Although officially still a part of the Solar Alliance Interplanetary Force's (SAIF's) Mediation Corps, Alibi hadn't been receiving new assignments, not since he reported his involvement in the destruction of crime lord Rene Laveillur's city of Kismet to the SAIF brass.

Though Alibi's connection to Kismet's ruination wasn't common or public knowledge, it was shared among his SAIF superiors on a need-to-know basis. Unfortunately, some of those in the Mediation Corps who supposedly needed-to-know felt compelled to act against his best interests. They didn't like him, for varying reasons, usually having something to do with privileges they felt he enjoyed as a result of his ties to his aunt. A few of them, including his commander, Brandywine, seized on his reported accident as an excuse to keep Alibi idled – effectively sidelined.

Watching the news instead of making it.

Boring!

Tired of news, he tried the history feeds, and paused when he saw an image of his aunt as a younger woman. A network was running footage from almost twenty years ago, back when she'd been Prime Representative of the Solar Alliance.

He turned up the sound. The image shifted to two men sitting in easy chairs. A somewhat rumpled looking older man sat silent while the neatly groomed young host introduced them.

"Welcome back to Newsnight. We're speaking with Marco Valerius about his new book on the world after the Eldred War, When We Were One. Thank you again for being here with us on Newsnight, Marco."

Thank you, John.

As I mentioned before the break – One of the ideas I find most fascinating in your book is the concept of the 'human diaspora', as you term it. You say it was both necessary and yet, paradoxically, detrimental to humankind, to the unity of the human race. Could you elaborate on that?

Certainly, John. When Anita Capituna was Prime Representative, it was really one of her Cabinet Representatives, Nikko Constantine, who was the driving force behind the human diaspora – backed-up completely, of course, by Prime Rep Capituna.

Of course.

"The Solar Alliance government, at the time, believed that one of the keys to keeping something like The Eldred War from happening again was to encourage exploration and colonization – spread the human race out across the stars, so we weren't so concentrated in the Solar System, so easy to wipe out and kill.

"Both Capituna and Constantine were originally from The Project, which made them interstellarists – firm believers in humankind's right to procreate and populate, planet by planet by planet. After all, Constantine was the Primary Representative for Crankshaft, one of humanity's first colonies. And, by the way, a direct economic beneficiary of the expansion plans of the human race."

Are you suggesting Constantine was economically motivated?

"Aren't we all, to some degree, John? That's a rhetorical question, don't worry. Actually? In my research I found very little evidence that money was a motivator. It was certainly a happy side effect. No, Capituna and Constantine and that first Cabinet were doing what they thought was best for humankind. It was... a different time."

Indeed. It was When We Were One – and we're talking with the author, Marco Valerius, here on Newsnight.

Nice segue.

Thank you, Marco. So, tell me, what was wrong with spreading the human race out into the stars?

"There was nothing inherently 'wrong' with it, John, it was just... well, let me back up a little. At first, it was a very good thing, although it was a little slow to start. Remember, humankind's numbers had dwindled, decimated by the Eldred Plague during the war. The early push for exploration and colonization was also a call to 'be fruitful and multiply', as it were, and in that the program was wildly successful. Our population exploded, increased exponentially, giving us what we historians call a 'post-war baby-boom'.

"Our needs shifted from humanity wanting to spread out to having to spread out, the SA government growing to view interstellar colonization as necessary not only strategically, but also necessary to relieve overpopulation pressures after the war. Plus, humanity has always had a kind of conquering aspect. The SA government in effect launched humankind's Manifest Destiny out into the stars.

Was the encouragement of the human diaspora wise? It seemed so at the time – who could argue with the idea of saving humanity? But – it ultimately fractured the unity of the human race, John. Look at us now!

I suppose.

"What I chart in the book is that fracturing, caused by the human diaspora. Corporations, nationalities, families that had long been allies became estranged. Spreading out as we have – we've made that inevitable, haven't we? And it's only getting worse. In my new edition there's an added chapter on the recent dissolution of the New catholic Church."

But Marco, humanity has rarely ever acted as one. It could be argued that during the Eldred War we only became 'one' due to the threat posed by the Eldred and their plague.

I don't deny that, John. It was certainly a factor. For a brief moment in time, humankind put aside its differences and actually came together. Afterwards? Without that threat? Sad. The bigger question for me is why? Why were we so quick to fall apart again? Was it because we had literally spread ourselves too thin? With humankind spreading out physically further and further apart? Even so, ultimately, even interstellar boundaries were too limiting for some.

And, you can find out Marco Valerius' answer to that question of 'Why?' in his new book, When We Were One, out now. Marco, thank you again for joining us on Newsnight.

My pleasure.

Theme music started to play as the segment finished.

Alibi realized he'd zoned out. The interview's end woke him up. A little.

Usually don't let that stuff play, he mumbled, blinking away sleep.

Not always easy hearing about recent history.

Weird the way they talk about my aunt.

It's not like she's dead, Alibi said, finishing the thought out loud.

He was glad they didn't mention his father.

Their talk of colonizing space made Alibi long for his Cruiser, and the peace and quiet of travel among the stars. His inactive status made that impossible at the moment.

He searched for something else to watch on the feeds to distract him from himself.

Would be nice to get out there again.

Looks like someone's been here before us, Hector Ruiz said, squinting at an unexpected feature mounted on the side of the ancient 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-looking, human-sized airlock door.

Someone installed a portable airlock in this old cascabillo, Hector said.

"Work of the SAIF Corps of Engineers," Hector's engineer Dr. An Ryoshi said. She leaned forward from her perch on one of the passenger seats at the back of the bridge as she studied the airlock on the viewscreen. The crew of six were all up on the bridge. Everyone wanted to get a look at the spooky old ship outside.

At least, looks like their work, Ryoshi added. From here.

Hector brought the Librecampista in closer to the giant old wreck. His copilot Janice ran new scans on the anachronistic airlock as they drew near.

"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 rose from her seat and 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 a bit more.

Seventy-five... and still dropping, Hector! Janice warned.

If it's that ship that's draining us, we're not detecting it, Ryoshi said. There's nothing connecting us to them. And there's 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.

Chapter Two

The Librecampista turned around and began to pull away from the old hulk.

Tell me when the power drain stops, Hector said to Janice.

The engines' subtle thrum throbbed throughout the ship, thrusters pushed to their limits as the trader raced away from the ancient vessel.

Is the power drain slowing down as we go? Hector asked, his attention taken up in teasing more acceleration out of the rear drives.

Yeah. Looks like, Janice said. Hard to be sure.

Hector swore under his breath as he tried to put more distance between his ship and the vampiric old hulk behind them. The engines strained, vibrating the entire vessel – he could feel it in his teeth. Hector hoped the ol' Librecampista didn't shake apart.

The thought made him swear again.

After a long, juddering minute, Janice spoke up.

Okay, it's stopped, Janice said. The draining effect has ceased. We're at sixty-eight percent power, but we're not losing any more.

Hector eased back on the engines. Their thrumming dulled down to its more usual low-pitched hum.

Nor are we gaining power back, Ryoshi said, nodding at the controls in front of her. We should keep going so the power reserves can build 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 dim bridge.

'Neither are you," the other grunt, Pearson, snarked at his fellow Security and Handling Officer.

Shut it, you two, Hector said. I need to think! He was beginning to feel the same sense of wrong Bob Bond had described. An uneasy feeling something wasn't right.

He felt cold.

A pillar of sickly greenish yellow light blinded them as it appeared in the center of the bridge.

As their eyes adjusted, they watched the light blur and become a strangely shaped man. It then seemed to focus, and in the middle of the room stood a translucent green astronaut in a helmeted SAIF EVA suit.

Hector couldn't 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!

Is it a matter of life or death? Doctor Krishnavurti – Krish – asked as he drew his presentation on time travel to The Project's Executive Board towards its close. "I would say it most definitely is."

The elderly scientist and his assistant, Doctor Alexandra Shinosay, were fighting with the board to continue funding for their projects and their time lab on Rigel Four. This presentation was one of their final chances to make their case.

With the end of the Time War and the disappearance of The Devrizium, Krish had to remind the Board that it had been time traveling by the Ancient Enemy, not The Devrizium, which first created the need for temporal research. He also wanted to remind the younger scientists and executives on the Board that what goes away doesn't necessarily stay away.

He brought it back around for them.

"As they have disappeared, The Devrizium are also fading from our memories, Krish said. But there is no guarantee they will not come back again. And they do not think well of us."

At this, Krish pressed a playback button on the table. A giant, glowing armored bust appeared floating in their midst, an alien torso clad in crimson plate sealed together with pitch black seams that seemed to glow with an almost negative light.

It began to speak in a strange, metallic voice.

"Consider the humans of the so-called 'Solar Alliance'," Madone of The Devrizium said in the projection. Krish looked around at the confused reactions of the board, as they remembered the Devrizium. "This offshoot of our Ancient Enemy developed in ignorance of their true heritage. Tamer, more empathic than their progenitors, these humans do not possess the same mental or physical powers. They do possess a drive to dominate, procreate and spread unlike any we've seen in any other race. Perhaps the Ancient Enemy bred a biological imperative to conquer into the star seeds that birthed this pale offspring."

The alien disappeared. Krish let its words sink in for a moment, the board's memory of the Devrizium hopefully rekindled.

Krish then went for his strong finish.

"That was a communication we intercepted between The Devrizium and another race, as yet undetermined. There are races still that consider us little better than a virus, Krish told the board. We'd do well to remember that. And as I said, regarding the Ancient Enemy, we still do not know where Azhumet is, or if any other additional members of his race will – or have already – come forward ahead into our time as he did, possessing new bodies. With all this in mind, Doctor Shinosay and I hope very much that you'll continue at the very least to fund our temporal research efforts at present budget levels, as we are currently the only branch of The Project addressing these important concerns. Thank you!"

Krish smiled at the board as he finished.

Alibi woke up.

He'd nodded off watching the news, and then dreamed about Krish making some presentation or something. Seemed real.

Wonder what Krish would say about that? Have to ask him next time I see him. No telling when that'll be, though, with me not going anywhere.

Wonder how he's doing?

Old friend of the family, Krish had been a true friend to Alibi, there when he needed him. Always tried to help Alibi when he could. Early on, the old scientist told Alibi he had a gift, telepathic potential passed down to him from his father, Bernard Campion.

Krish gave him a piece of an alien shipwreck, a small chunk of the hull of an Eldred ship, and Alibi had a vision as he held it – a remote sighting, Krish labeled it. The scientist had Alibi describe the surrounding stars in the sky in his vision and, with that, they were able to find an old Eldred outpost Alibi sought.

Krish had helped Alibi in the Time War against the Devrizium, too.

The Time War. Strange how people are forgetting the Devrizium ever existed.

Time wars. Funny things.

The news feed grabbed his attention back.

The grinning man's face that now filled the screen made Alibi grimace.

"Wish he never existed," Alibi muttered. The young politician on the feed had been making life hell for his Aunt Anita of late. He'd gone after – and gotten – her old job.

He looked nice enough, in a well-tailored old-fashioned business suit. His bright, white smile, brown eyes and dark hair made many describe him as traditionally handsome.

He looks like a weasel. Don't care what they say.

The weasel was talking to an older, respected newsman Alibi recognized.

Les Something, I think.

He turned up the volume.

"Hello, this is Wes Tinslow, and with me today on Newsmakers is the new Prime Representative for the Solar Alliance, young Nikko Constantine. That's a pretty famous name you've got there, Nikko. Tell me, what exactly is the family connection?"

"The original Nikko Constantine was my uncle – my great uncle. Grew up hearing many a story about ol' 'Uncle Nick'."

I see. But aren't you from a so-called 'bastard branch' of the family? I mean, according to your 'cousin', Electra Constantine – the original Nikko Constantine's daughter?

The politician laughed off the slight.

Electra has a colorful way of speaking, doesn't she? As our politics do not match, I am not surprised that she constantly tries to undermine my political credibility and sabotage my goals.

So – that's just politics?

Certainly. I am a Constantine. Born to rule, no doubt! Or I wouldn't be our new Prime Rep, now, would I?

Tinslow frowned. He looked like he'd eaten something that disagreed with him.

I see, Tinslow said. Now, you call your coalition the 'Human Destiny Party', which begs the question – what do you consider humankind's destiny?

"Heh, well, we don't presume to know that, now – that would be presumptuous of us, wouldn't it? No, we do not presume a destiny for any human being. We merely believe the Solar Alliance government should strive to create conditions where human beings can live out their destinies to their fullest potential."

So – you don't have some sort of 'grand vision' of humanity's destiny, then?

Well, Wes, as I think many of us do, I believe humanity's destiny lies out among the stars. But beyond that, we in the Human Destiny Party believe that each man and woman has a right to explore that destiny on their own terms.

Now that you're in office, tell me – is it true you plan on reaching out to some of the criminals and outlaws, crime lords and independents 'beyond' human borders?

"Now, Wes, they're not beyond human borders, just beyond the current political boundaries of the Solar Alliance. That's not the same thing. More's the pity."

Excuse me?

Well, it is a shame we exclude them. The human ones, I mean.

"You want them in the S.A.?"

Why not?

"Well... they're criminals, for one. Most of them are engaged in some kind of illegal activity, or they'd be working within the borders of the S.A. Some of them even modify people."

"And tell me, Wes, why is that illegal? Some arbitrary rules some ancestors of ours put in place? Isn't it time that we looked at those laws anew? Why limit human potential? Why not allow people to modify – to improve themselves?"

I'm not sure most people will agree with your definition of 'improve', Mr. Constantine.

That's Prime Representative Constantine now, please.

Indeed. Yes. It is, isn't it? Well, then. Thank you for your time.

I thought we were scheduled for the full half-hour?

We were. But we're done now. Thank you.

"Hey! This is my time!"

Not any more. Goodnight, Ladies and Gentlemen.

The picture shifted back to the presenting announcer.

"Right. A rather abrupt end, there. Well. Thank you, Wes Tinslow and Prime Representative Constantine. Up next, our profile of the colony that's trying to live up to its name – Paradise! No, excuse me, wait, we interrupt our usual..."

CLICK.

Alibi turned off the media feed.

Nikko Fucking Constantine, Alibi said, still angry at the radical politician who'd managed to rise to the top. He didn't want to hear about Paradise, either. Alibi had been there. The name reminded him of folks he cared for who didn't want to be around him.

You should forgive him. It's stupid, Katie said to Kit. You've forgiven me. She looked over at the cat-man, to make sure she had his eye. "I mean, you have forgiven me, right?"

It was a topic she raised every few days, whenever she bumped into Kitrafundlergrundler... Kit.

Katie Ramsey was staying on Hur, under the protection of the Diplomatic family of Kit's father, Rahkar. She'd been volunteering at the family headquarters, and her chores sometimes lead her downstairs to the basement archives where Kit toiled.

Kit's unpaid work there was inspired by a different motivation. Rahkar had assigned him community service for his part in what Rahkar called The Kismet Affair.

That is different, Kit said. Do not ask me to explain.

Why not? she prodded. "Because you can't!? He didn't bring me to your Joining. We weren't together anymore – we'd already broken up. Trish invited me. For you to blame Alibi is stupid."

I find it odd that you are championing his cause, Kit said. After all, you stayed on Hur to get away from him yourself.

Well, sure, she admitted. "But that doesn't mean I don't care about him still. A little. I care about both of you. It isn't doing you any good to hate him, either. That emotion hurts you more than him. You should forgive him."

Here is the archival crystal, Kit said, as he handed her the old Dakhur record-keeping device. You may now cease lecturing me and return to Rahkar.

"Oh, may I, now? she said. Thank you for your permission, your majesty."

Kit growled, a low, annoyed grumble.

Thank you, King of the Crystals, she joked.

I find it odd that even when he is not here, we find ourselves talking about Alibi Jones, Kit said. It is quite annoying.

"He's just one of those people. People you talk about. Things – big things – seem to happen around him. It is kind of strange, she admitted. You know, Kat and Rahkar seemed to like him well enough..."

I am through talking about him, Kit said. You should go.

Spoilsport, Katie said. Killjoy!

Your translator is saying funny things, Kit said. I do not think it is conveying your meaning properly.

Never mind, Katie said. Bye Kit.

Katie.

She turned and walked up the stairs, leaving Kit alone in the archives.

As he thought about Katie and Kit, Alibi missed them, but also couldn't help but feel some relief at their absence, which then made him feel a little guilty. They complicated things more than they needed to be. He'd done as they'd wished and broken off all contact. He'd erased Katie's old messages from his Wand. Still had some of Kit's, though there weren't many. Thinking of it, Alibi picked up his Wand. There were a couple of messages waiting. He didn't recognize the sources.

Nothing important, then, I'm sure.

He turned off the Wand. Didn't feel like being found at the moment.

Restless, he left his aunt's apartment, going for a walk around some of the less populated parts of Ceres Central. After wandering for a bit, Alibi decided to drown his knot of emotions in a beer. He headed for a nearby pub.

Alibi Jones! It's him, everybody! Told ya he comes in here! Hey Alibi! Hey media star, the bartender called over as he walked in.

Alibi looked around the bar as the murmur of conversation died. The small room was popular with a regular crowd; big with the locals, residents of Ceres Central. About twenty people filled the dimly lit place. Alibi felt like every eye in the bar was on him. Some stared directly.

After a moment, most went back to their drinks. The murmur returned.

Alibi looked back to the bartender as he approached the bar.

What, he asked, grimacing.

You're famous now, kid. Or infamous, the man said to him in a lower voice.

What did I do? Alibi asked.

"Ah, they said you were playing innocent! The bartender looked smug, pleased with his knowledge. Ha! 'What did I do?' he says, the bartender said, mimicking Alibi. He chuckled. You're modest! They might not like you back on Earth, but out here on Ceres Central, anyone who takes out a crime lord like Laveillur is respected, not persecuted."

Thanks. I think, Alibi said. The man's words sank in a bit. Hey, wait a… they don't like me on Earth? Take out Laveillur? What have you heard?

Only what's been all over the news feeds this afternoon, the bartender said. "Think it was Newsnight started it about an hour ago, ran a segment all about your trip to Kismet. Said it was actually you who blew the place up!"

Oh no.

Chapter Three

Alibi stared wide-eyed at the bartender as the man explained how Alibi's world had just exploded.

The other nets have been piling on. Lots of reports about you blowing Kismet up, now, the man said. Surprised there aren't news crews swarming around you!

Turned my Wand's locator off, Alibi said. Didn't want to be found. For different reasons.

Different reasons? the bartender asked.

Stuff I gotta put behind me, Alibi said.

Stuff that's not quite as pressing as this.

He looked around the room again.

Some people were still staring. He could feel it.

With a quick decision, Alibi turned and made for the door.

Where you going? the bartender called after him.

Time for me to get lost, Alibi said.

He bounced out of the bar.

Hey! Alibi Jones! The bartender shouted after him.

Alibi ignored the man.

Probably already sending in news tips with my location hoping for scoop money.

Alibi jogged down the corridor towards the main concourse of Ceres Central.

As he worked his way back towards his Aunt Anita's apartments, he pulled his Wand from his jumpsuit pocket. He debated turning it on.

If I do, they'll be able to track me down. Find me.

But if I don't? Can't figure out what the hell is going on.

Well. Know enough about what's happening for now, really.

Alibi decided to keep out of the public eye, to get behind closed doors before alerting the news media to his whereabouts. He put the Wand away in its usual pocket, leaving it in dormant mode.

Alibi's Aunt Anita had been the Prime Representative of the Solar Alliance for its first twenty-odd years. After that, she was Governor of Ceres Central. She'd recently retired from that job. Thanks to her high profile, her apartments on Ceres Central were built with extra security precautions in place, as well as with several extra exits and entrances unknown to the general public and media outlets.

Alibi made his way to one of those lesser known