My New Book – The Huralon Incident

The Huralon Incident

My new book is finally available! If you attend my blog regularly, you know I write a lot of flash fiction. Well, this is my first foray into full-length novels. This more serious than my usual works, but there is still humor. I just can’t stay serious for too long. There’s a love affair as well for you romance lovers, and if you already know how I feel about politicians, well that’s in there too. I packed a lot of stuff into this, and I hope you’ll give it a read. Here’s some more about it.

“The Huralon Incident” is a tale of the first combat cruise of the ESS Springbok. Designed from the keel up to be a Q-Ship (a disguised armed merchant), the ship is packed with the finest technology Elysian engineers could muster.
Commanding her is Captain Evander McCray, a veteran of the war who ruffled too many Admiralty feathers during peacetime. He gets one last chance to redeem himself with Springbok, but the straightforward anti-piracy mission proves to be anything but simple.

McCray soon uncovers an audacious plot formed by an adversary nation and the corrupt politicians of his own nation. Before he is done, he’ll face a firefight on the ground he has no idea how to fight and the possibility of losing the woman he loves. He’ll face down the enemy’s latest and greatest warship design, a vessel Springbok was never designed to fight. McCray will employ tactics he never considered possible before, just to survive.

If you like spaceship combat, espionage, nanotechnology, and techno-thrillers check this one out.

The Huralon Incident

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Adjustment Period

Photo by: C.E. Ayr


Butch barked excitedly at the squirrel climbing a huge tree in the pet hospital’s roundabout.

“Aw!” said Gloria. “Butch’s artificial eye already feels better.”

“A word of warning,” said Doctor Pembroke. “About Butch’s military hardware…”

“I told you, don’t spare the expense,” said Gloria.

“…There will be an adjustment period.”

“Oh Butch feels just fine. Look, he’s already chasing squirrels.”

“We turned down the settings as far as we could,” said Pembroke, nervously.

“Oh just relax…”


Butch’s eye laser cut through the tree and it fell over.

Pembroke sighed. “Don’t let him chase cars for now, hmmm?”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers:

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Judging a Book

Photo by: J Hardy Carroll

Postmaster Green led Sean to the back. Green said, in his heavy drawl, “Hadda stick yer packages in these here cages.”

“Why?” said Sean. “Because they’re from Mexico?”

Green glared. “And the alien star, Wolf359, before that. I ain’t stupid, son. What’s in ’em?”

How could Sean explain? Would this hillbilly even understand? Might as well try the truth. “It’s parts for an interstellar overdrive, including a pr-257-g tachychlometer.”

“Horseshit!” said Green.

Sean sighed. “No, it really is.”

“I know,” said Green. He removed his hat and rubbed his third eye. “But you get better throughput from the px-354 series.”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers:

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Superstition is a Way

Photo by: Jean L. Hays

AP reporter Jane Swift said, “Miss Devereaux, you rose from horrendous poverty to running a top 500 fashion company in just a few years. How do you explain that?”

“The usual,” said Marie Devereaux. “Hard work. Dedication.”

“Now critics are claiming you practice black arts with voodoo dolls. True?”

Devereaux scowled. This wasn’t what was promised. “How silly. Who believes such superstitious nonsense?”

“Those same critics are dying, rapidly, under bizarre circumstances. True?”

“This interview is over,” declared Devereaux.

Returning to New Orleans, Devereaux held up some cloth to her assistant. “Doesn’t this match the skin tone of that AP reporter?”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers:

Author’s notes:

The lyrics of Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition” were an influence this story’s title.

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Do As I Say…

Photo by: Ted Strutz

Phoebe returned from school, disgusted. “Eighth marriage proposal this week, Mom. This is crazy! Am I really that pretty?”

Giselle nodded and produced a basket of old photos. “It’s time you knew. Your grandma was an alien.”


“You’re part alien, and human men find our pheromones irresistible. You’re young, but you’ll learn to control them.”

Phoebe was stunned. “Alien? Controllable pheromones?”

“But you must use this power responsibly. Be subtle.”

“Like you?”

“Precisely!” The doorbell rang, and a marching band began playing outside.

“What’s that?” said Phoebe.

“It’s only the city mayor,” preened Giselle. “Delivering my Bentley limousine.”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers:

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Keep It Simple, Stupid

Photo by: Dale Rogerson

Little Brian and a lawyer were the only people in the park when a spaceship landed. An alien emerged, held up a silvery device, and said, “With this I can grant any desire. What would you like little boy?”

Brian said, “I want an ice cream cone!”


Brian had his ice cream.

“Foolish child!” scoffed the lawyer. “I would like ultimate power.”


The lawyer disappeared.

“Where’d he go?” said Brian.

“He is now a pocket universe. Effectively a god.”

“He’ll get anything he wants?”

“Well, stars and planets need to form first. Give it a few billion years.”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers:

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Most Unusual Brownies

Photo by: J Hardy Carroll

Efrem inherited rare mystical magic powers from his father, but his true love was cooking.

The test to enter the School of Cooking was simple. Make brownies. So, Efrem put every fiber of his being into the food. When he finished, the cooking judges stared at him open-mouthed.

Efrem panicked. Something was wrong. “What is it?” he moaned.

Chief Judge Penworthy murmured, “Well, this is rather unusual…”

“Too much sugar?”


“Batter too stiff?”


“Then why do you all look like that?”

“Well, ah,” stammered Penworthy. “We’ve never seen anyone summon a fire-breathing dragon to cook brownies.”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers:

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