Available as digital download at Smashwords, ISBN 978-1-4581-9612-5
In print at Amazon
Computer viruses no longer exist, yet Vexen's medical transport is held hostage by one. The hologram engineered to combat the deadly program develops an identity crisis. An alien intruder is discovered stowed away in the cargo bay. And the evil reptilian Delphan demands immediate surrender of her ship. Can anything else possibly go wrong?
The hologram didn’t waste any time. It bent over the console, peering intently at the screen to view the virus’ progress. “You’re right. This is one damned monster.”
“When you researched computer viruses, did you find anything similar to this one?” Instantly, she caught what she said and tried to correct herself with, “I mean, when Leland --my husband-- studied those old programs, he…” Her voice trailed off as the hologram’s head turned, mouth spreading in a teasing grin. The hairs at the nape of Vexen’s neck electrified. That’s exactly what Leland would do.
“Just so there won’t be any confusion, I suggest that you recognize I am…” a gaze ran down the length of her body in an all too intimate, and eerily familiar, way, “the same as your husband.”
Vexen blinked. “You are merely a projection.”
“Of necessity I must possess his knowledge.” Returning its attention to the screen, the image added as if in after thought, “And I hold all his memories.”
“If you assume--” Abruptly, Vexen broke off. She’d never met a hologram with personality before and to think that Leland programmed this one with too much of an attitude set her teeth on edge. But the fact remained that the current emergency, and not the irritation of having to deal with a mouthy computer graphic, demanded she keep a cool head. Clearing her throat, she picked the MR off the console. “You’ll need this.”
“Care to attach it on my sleeve?”
She placed it on the left shirt cuff, but both the MR and her fingers slipped through the non-existent fabric. “You aren’t solid.”
“Ah. I see the problem. Minor interference.” Quickly, digits were punched on the keypad. “Now I’m fully downloaded.”
She tried again to attach the MR, but it dropped in a shoulder pocket. Reaching inside, her hands stilled. Beneath her touch, through the material of the covering uniform, she felt the warmth of a rock hard bicep. Her gaze flew upwards. How come the neatly trimmed beard now looked so real that it captured the lighting of the overhead lamps, the curling hairs glistening with a damp-like sheen as if freshly emerged from under a sonic shower?
*Book Cover Has Changed Since Date of Video*