I had thought that when I cleared the atmosphere my troubles would be over. Who ever heard of a ghost in outer space? But there he is, lounging at the other end of the bar in the passenger liner’s main dining hall. He really is lounging too. No flowing robes, clinking chains or bloody scars for this apparition. Just a middle aged man in a business suit, who no one but me seemed to be able to see. That was the trouble really. I could deal with a ghost if I had some confirmation that I wasn’t losing my mind – some indication that the man I saw waving at me and giving me his trademarked sad and somewhat embarrassed little smile wasn’t just an invention of my own fevered brain.
New Sera is as far as a starliner will go without cold sleep, so I bought my ticket and here I am, contemplating a five week journey with the spectre of a businessman. That is a bad prospect because for the last five years, every time I have seen this invisible and impossible man, something terrible has been about to happen.