by
Size: 5.50 x 8.50 in
Pages: 314
Raka Varoule is a second-rate investigative reporter, traveling between the twenty-seven worlds of the Galactic Empire exposing minor scandals. His big break comes when he weasels his way onto the Emperor’s personal star-cruiser to report live, across the galaxy, how the Emperor is celebrating his birthday. When he exposes the biggest scandal in galactic history, he narrowly escapes with the help of a drug runner, a dominatrix, and a monkey wearing ass-less chaps. Together, they search for an escape from the Empire; a barbarian world outside Imperial control. Then things get weird.
Black Swan Planet is a rare treat of a novel. A satirical science-fiction story told in a unique way, utilizing a variety of perspectives. This story will make you both laugh out loud and keep you guessing what will happen next. James Peters has woven a story you’ll never forget, even if you lack mnemonic implants or prescription vibrating undergarments
- 1 To Be Read list
Genres:
Tropes: Conspiracy, Dystopian Governments, Fish Out of Water, FTL, Galactic Civilization, Reluctant Hero
Word Count: 100000
Setting: Earth, Galactic Empire
Languages Available: English
Tropes: Conspiracy, Dystopian Governments, Fish Out of Water, FTL, Galactic Civilization, Reluctant Hero
Word Count: 100000
Setting: Earth, Galactic Empire
Languages Available: English
The next day, I convinced Gina that I had some work and she agreed to see some sights with Marco. I drove to Big Sky, stopped at the first phone booth I saw, and thumbed through the telephone book chained to the wall. Greenwalt, John. 1514 W. Main. Should be easy enough to find. Main or State streets typically run through the center of town. A few minutes of driving and I found the house, a white two story with a big front porch. As I pulled up, I saw a man rocking in a glider loveseat. He wore blue dressy pants held up by a belt adorned with a camera on the buckle, and a white shirt that had been stained multiple times, probably by photographic developing chemicals.
“Mr. Greenwalt? John Greenwalt?” I said, stepping out from the car.
“Does he owe you money? If so, he just left.”
READ MORE“No, not at all. I’m a reporter and I’m working on a story on the fifty-nine quake. A follow-up, what with the new visitor’s center and all, there’s some new interest.”
He studied me with his eyes. “Ah, I see. So what can I do ya’ for?”
“A colleague gave me a picture of yours, and I’m working on a story. By chance, do you have any more like this one.” I showed him the photo. “My colleague recommended I come to see you. We have pictures of the deceased, but we wanted to do more follow-up on the families, and those who attended the memorial service.”
“This colleague of yours. Would you mind sharing his name?”
“Well, I’m not sure if you’d know him, he said he knew you through a friend of his.”
“That’s an evasive answer. What’s his name?”
“Marco.”
“I don’t know a Marco. Where’s he from?”
“West Virginia.”
“I don’t know anybody from West Virginia. That’s a long way away. How did he get my name?”
“He’s a photography critic, very fond of your work, and acted like he knew you. Probably knows you through your pictures. He said you could see the soul of a good photographer in the tone of their pictures.”
“Bullshit. That sounds like a line I used to use to try and get the hot young girls to pose for me. I’d tell them that they were denying the world their beauty and declare how unfair to the world of art they were for keeping a perfect bosom covered up. Worked sometimes too. You want to see some pictures?”
“I’d love to. But I’d really like to see if you had any more pictures from the memorial service.”
“Follow me. You ever been in a darkroom before?”
“Just to sleep.”
“Ha. Me too. It’s in the basement.” He led me down a set of wooden stairs into a darkroom, just large enough for us both to fit. “Let’s see, in fifty-nine I was filing everything in this cabinet. I tried for a while to put the negatives into plastic covers, then ended up just leaving them in these envelopes. What do we have here?” He held a negative up to the light. “Yes, that’s it. See? Boobies!” He handed me the negative.
“Nice.”
“I remember this one. Shouldn’t show you that one, I ended up marrying her!”
“Uh. Anything on the memorial?”
“Keep your shorts on. I’m looking. Boobies, boobies, boobies. Baby pic, boobies. Memorial. Here we go.”
He handed me a stack of several negatives, I strained to look at them in the light.
“Give me those and I’ll make you a contact sheet. It will be easier for you to see them in positive form. Hit that light on the left and turn on the red switch next to it.”
COLLAPSEJames G. Riley on Amazon wrote:Great, couldn't put this book down. A fun read, not to mention hilarious. Really cool concept and a phenomenal cast. Storylines are clever, well written, and make their way to a great conclusion. A truly unique novel, the likes of which are scarcely seen. The author outdid themselves. 5 Stars for sure.
This book morphs into a fast-paced page-turner, infused with nuggets of eclectic humor. James Peters does a good job in adding credibility to the story by his plausible explanation of such things as fast than light travel, intergalactic communications, and advances in medicine. Highly recommended.
