by S. E. Smith
I hope you enjoyed the story and will be patient as the world continues to grow.
Recipe for Dump Cake:
1 can pie filling – any flavor
1 box Jiffy Golden Yellow Cake mix
½ cup of butter
Melt butter; pour pie filling in bottom of a 13 inch cake dish. Pour dry cake mix on top of pie filling. Pour melted butter on top of dry cake mix. Bake at 350 degrees until a golden brown. Do not mix ingredients; just dump them in the order above. Serve warm with ice cream for the ultimate enjoyment.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank my husband Steve for believing in me and being proud enough of me to give me the courage to follow my dream. I would also like to give a special thank-you to Sally, Julie, Debbie, Jolanda, Christel, Laurelle, Jackie, and Narelle, who listen to me, read my stories, and encourage me to be me.
—S. E. Smith
Also by S.E. Smith
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Excerpts of S.E. Smith Books
If you would like to read more S.E. Smith stories, she recommends Touch of Frost, the first in her Magic, New Mexico series. Or if you prefer a Paranormal or Western with a twist, you can check out Lily’s Cowboys or Indiana Wild…
Additional Books by S.E. Smith
Short Stories and Novellas
For the Love of Tia
(Dragon Lords of Valdier Book 4.1)
A Dragonling’s Easter
(Dragonlings of Valdier Book 1.1)
A Dragonling’s Haunted Halloween
(Dragonlings of Valdier Book 1.2)
A Dragonling’s Magical Christmas
(Dragonlings of Valdier Book 1.3)
A Warrior’s Heart
(Marastin Dow Warriors Book 1.1)
Rescuing Mattie
(Lords of Kassis: Book 3.1)
Science Fiction/Paranormal Novels
Cosmos’ Gateway Series
Tink’s Neverland (Cosmos’ Gateway: Book 1)
Hannah’s Warrior (Cosmos’ Gateway: Book 2)
Tansy’s Titan (Cosmos’ Gateway: Book 3)
Cosmos’ Promise (Cosmos’ Gateway: Book 4)
Merrick’s Maiden (Cosmos’ Gateway Book 5)
Curizan Warrior
Ha’ven’s Song (Curizan Warrior: Book 1)
Dragon Lords of Valdier
Abducting Abby (Dragon Lords of Valdier: Book 1)
Capturing Cara (Dragon Lords of Valdier: Book 2)
Tracking Trisha (Dragon Lords of Valdier: Book 3)
Ambushing Ariel (Dragon Lords of Valdier: Book 4)
Cornering Carmen (Dragon Lords of Valdier: Book 5)
Paul’s Pursuit (Dragon Lords of Valdier: Book 6)
Twin Dragons (Dragon Lords of Valdier: Book 7)
Lords of Kassis Series
River’s Run (Lords of Kassis: Book 1)
Star’s Storm (Lords of Kassis: Book 2)
Jo’s Journey (Lords of Kassis: Book 3)
Ristéard’s Unwilling Empress (Lords of Kassis: Book 4)
Magic, New Mexico Series
Touch of Frost (Magic, New Mexico Book 1)
Taking on Tory (Magic, New Mexico Book 2)
Sarafin Warriors
Choosing Riley (Sarafin Warriors: Book 1)
Viper’s Defiant Mate (Sarafin Warriors Book 2)
The Alliance Series
Hunter’s Claim (The Alliance: Book 1)
Razor’s Traitorous Heart (The Alliance: Book 2)
Dagger’s Hope (The Alliance: Book 3)
Challenging Saber (The Alliance: Book 4)
Zion Warriors Series
Gracie’s Touch (Zion Warriors: Book 1)
Krac’s Firebrand (Zion Warriors: Book 2)
Paranormal and Time Travel Novels
Spirit Pass Series
Indiana Wild (Spirit Pass: Book 1)
Spirit Warrior (Spirit Pass Book 2)
Second Chance Series
Lily’s Cowboys (Second Chance: Book 1)
Touching Rune (Second Chance: Book 2)
Young Adult Novels
Breaking Free Series
Voyage of the Defiance (Breaking Free: Book 1)
Recommended Reading Order Lists:
http://sesmithfl.com/reading-list-by-events/
http://sesmithfl.com/reading-list-by-series/
About S.E. Smith
S.E. Smith is a New York Times, USA TODAY, International, and Award-Winning Bestselling author of science fiction, romance, fantasy, paranormal, and contemporary works for adults, young adults, and children. She enjoys writing a wide variety of genres that pull her readers into worlds that take them away.
To learn more about Susan and her books:
@sesmithfl
se.smith.5
sesmithfl.com
Stray by Susan Grant
About Stray
Interplanetary Marine Lt. Lukas Frank has a lot in common with a street dog named Bang-Bang; they both started off as scrappy orphans fighting to survive—and beat the odds. Things change when Bang-Bang leads Lukas to starpilot Capt. Carlynn Riga. The tough war hero learns what it means to surrender—his heart. Lukas’s struggles with PTSD threaten to tear the three of them apart, but nothing threatens them more than when Carlynn goes missing on a mission. Now the scarred Marine and his canine partner must find Carlynn and bring her home, or risk losing everything he has finally found worth fighting for.
Welcome to the worlds of the Star Series and the Star World Frontier series of books, which feature characters from both Earth and the Vash Trade Federation, a benevolent, galaxy-spanning civilization. All the Star stories are standalone with happy endings. Stray is the first “Star World Glimmer”. These shorter tales offer a glimpse into a couple’s life at a point in their relationship rather than a telling of their entire story. I look forward to bringing readers more Star World Glimmers to give peeks into the lives of people who live, work, play, and love amongst the stars.
Prologue
Running…always running…
He ran to evade the kicks or sharp sticks of the Tall Ones, or to follow the dizzying scent of food. If he ran fast enough, he could sometimes devour a precious morsel or two before Others moved in, snarling, snapping, willing to kill to win what was left. He had been running for as long as he could remember, ever since his mother chased him away from her milk teats for good.
The aches of hunger and loneliness were constant. Sometimes, miserable and alone and afraid in the night, he would feel a howl rise up from deep inside. Then the howls of Others would join him, and for a time the chorus made him feel part of a pack—surrounded by companionship and security. But shouts and a barrage of inedible objects thrown by the Tall Ones almost always silenced the howling too quickly. Curling up in the shadows, he would rest until light when the need to survive compelled him to abandon a temporary shelter. Weariness and waning strength were soon forgotten in the urgency to find something to eat.
After finding no food for almost two days, he returned to a Tall One that fed him a few times in the past. Impelled by hunger and hope, he approached daringly close.
“Git,” the Tall One said, waving hands that quivered.
Nonetheless, he dropped to a submissive, ingratiating crouch, wagging his tail as he crept ever forward. The technique had worked before with this Tall One, who was a weaker, slower version of its kind.
“Have ya lost your craggin’ hearing? Git, I said! Go on! You’re too big now, too scrawny. Your pretty eyes saved ya before, they did; but I should’ve wrung your neck while ya were still tender enough to eat.”
Numerous Others padded around, drawn by the
heady aromas and the understanding that this Tall One sometimes offered nourishment. But the Tall One ignored them, waving a piece of food at a soft fat pup that still smelled like mother’s milk, and lured it away from the rest of the group. When it was close enough, The Tall One lifted it off the ground. The pup wriggled its legs and tried to lick the Tall One’s nose. “But you’ll do nicely though.” The Tall One pushed it into a wire box, where it gobbled down a bowl of food.
A full bowl! Trembling with longing, he watched the sight, strands of drool hanging from his mouth.
“I told ya to git!” The Tall One shoved him away with a sudden kick. Pain burst along his side. He staggered sideways, skittering out of the way of another kick. “Don’t come back. I won’t have nothin’ for ya.”
He backed up and ran, slowing to limp along twisting alleyways, tracking scents, keeping close to the walls and out of the way of the Tall Ones. Some of the scent trails he followed were days or even weeks old but an alluring new aroma led to a reeking pile of fresh trash. Others were already there. They protected their find with teeth bared and hackles raised.
He stifled a high-pitched whine. He would die if he did not eat soon. Darting forward into the snarling mass of Others, he pushed his muzzle between furry legs, far enough to snatch a prize. With a paw-sized chunk of rotted meat clamped in his teeth, he ran.
And ran. The teeth of pursuers tore at his tail and hindquarters. One tried to pull the meat from his mouth. But he was faster. More desperate. The alley opened unexpectedly into a large expanse of blinding light packed with more of the Tall Ones in one place than he had ever seen before.
He dove under one of the Tall One’s parked boxes-that-moved. The temporary hiding place provided enough shelter to gobble down the piece of meat, uninterrupted. Then, he realized he was not alone.
The whimper of a pup caught his attention mid-chew. She was tiny, and wobbly on her feet—too young to be separated from her mother. Yet, she was. With ribs protruding like wings, she was not the sort of pup the Tall One with the quivering hands would have taken to feed in the wire boxes, either. As she inched closer, her thin legs trembled, her whipping tail tucked between her hindquarters.
Recognizing a desperation so like his own, he did not bare his teeth or chase away the starving pup. The pup was too weak and her milk teeth too small to eat more than a crumb or two, anyway. Besides, he was so weary of being alone. With his nose, he pushed a small morsel toward the pup—
BANG BANG! Two loud, ear-splitting booms shook the shelter under which he and the pup cowered. They each darted out from underneath it, fear driving them in separate directions.
In an instant, he was lost in a maze of Tall Ones’ legs. Which way to safety? He had never been around so many Tall Ones at once. Foul, acrid odors from the liquids they consumed filled his nose. Their many voices were rowdy and loud, sending him running one way, then the other. No direction led to escape. Fear chilled him. Run! Run! His stomach felt ready to lurch and spill the contents of the precious meal. Then he saw a pair of Tall One hands lowered to eye level, palms up. Here.
He aimed for those hands with the sense that this was where he needed to go.
He barreled into the Tall One, then whirled around, his eyes back on the crowd. He nosed the air for threats and competition as he pressed the side of his body hard against the legs, expecting his pursuers to steal this safe haven, too.
The Tall One kneeled down. “Hey, hey…”
He sensed power in that huge frame. Kindness in those hands.
“Easy now. What are you? Boy or girl? Ah—a boy. You’re a good boy… Good boy.”
He trembled harder. Maybe because he was so weak. Or because the memory of the Others who chased him for the piece of food was so fresh.
“He can’t be more than three or four months old,” said the Tall One.
“Hard to say, Sir,” came another Tall One’s voice. “They’re nothing but sacks of fur and bones. They eat them down here, you know. Puppies. That’s pretty sick.”
“Or desperate, yeah. Either way, sad state of affairs.” The hands scratched behind his ears now. He almost fell over sideways the pleasure was so overwhelming. “But Earth’s in charge of the colony now. We’re here on Barésh to fix things. Right, boy?”
He dared a glance up at the Tall One, the source of this unexpected bliss, and their eyes met. He shrank back, expecting the worst. Making eye contact with another was most often dangerous; he had spent his life avoiding it. But the Tall One leaned closer, almost face-to-face, strengthening their connection. “Hey. I get it. I know what it’s like to run scared in the street. I know what it’s like to be all alone, to be so hungry it hurts. You won’t have to worry about that anymore. You’ve got me now.”
He thrust his muzzle upward and licked the Tall One on the nose, who then reacted with a sound he knew at once was a happy one.
“There’ll be no getting rid of him now, Sir. You’re gonna have to name him. How about Kabob? We can call him Bobby.”
“Kabob? What the f—?” The Tall One sounded unhappy.
He cowered all over again, tucking his tail.
“Because the Baréshtis like to eat street dogs—”
“That’ll be all, Staff Sergeant.” The Tall One turned back to study him. “A backfire sent you running—straight to me. I could call you Backfire…” Then he shook his head. “Nope. Doesn’t fit. It was more like a double bang. A bang, bang.” A hand ruffled his fur. “That’s it. Bang-Bang. A good name. Come on, boy. You’ve just been recruited to be an Interplanetary Marine. Bezos Station could use a few good dogs.” The Tall One hoisted Bang-Bang high off the ground into his arms. “But first, dinner and a bath. Definitely a bath.”
Bang-Bang let his chin bounce on his Tall One’s shoulder as he was carried away. A deep, shuddering sigh escaped him, and soon his eyes drooped closed. For the first time since he found himself alone, he fell asleep without feeling afraid to wake up.
One
Personal Log, Lieutenant Lukas Frank
First thing they do when you come back from combat is make you visit the shrink. Since talking to the over-educated dweeb won’t change anything, he insisted I tell someone, even if that someone is only me…and managed to convince my CO of its importance in my “healing process”. Fine. He thinks this log will help. I think he’s full of shit.
Hell. Everyone has their own concept of what it might look like. Me? I saw hell up close and personal on a space station called Glenn-Musk…
When I think of it, I always hear it first. Alarms wailing. People screaming. Me, bellowing evacuation instructions to keep personnel focused and streaming into shuttles. The main blast had taken out the command center of the station. The brains. The CO and his staff. An unknown number of people were dead. Others were gravely wounded. Severe burns. I got them off first. I directed my two surviving Marines to search for stragglers while I funneled hundreds of civilians into shuttles. By then, the station’s rotation had slowed. Gravity was almost nil. We all felt the onset of space sickness or maybe the effects of toxins. It stank of smoke. Visible particles hung in the air. But an impassable corridor blocked me from where I could get my hands on an emergency pressure suit. Like everyone else around me, I had to go without.
“Go! Go!” I grabbed the arms of anyone close enough to shove forward, to keep them moving. Fire on a space station is about as dire of a scenario as you can get. With only one useable shuttle bay, I kept my focus narrowed to getting as many personnel evacuated as I could. “Inside! Grab a seat.” When there were no seats left, I’d tell them, “Sit anywhere. And hold on.” They piled in. Then the starpilot radioed that they were over max weight.
Way past. All of us knew it. No one wanted to be the one to say, “No more.”
“There’s only fifty or so left,” I said. I felt the crush of their bodies behind me, jostling and stinking of fear. I heard their demands to board the shuttle. They wanted on, whether or not it was crammed to capacity.
&nbs
p; “That’s too many,” the pilot said.
“A few are kids,” I told them.
After a few beats they gave in. “Roger. The kids only.”
But that generated unholy screeches as the kids refused to be torn from their mothers’ arms, and the adults acted helpless about it. I put them all at risk if I wasted time arguing. “That’s a negative, shuttle. Go ahead and depart. We’ll get them on the next one.”
I manually rotated the hatch closed. I was now crammed into a sardine can of a compartment packed with a lot of desperate people. Barely controlled chaos. “Listen up,” I said and pointed outside the porthole. “See that? That’s your shuttle. It’ll dock as soon as this one departs.” The sight of the shuttle floating in the reassuring glow of planet Earth calmed them some. “Go back to the waiting area. I’ll signal when it’s safe to board. Form a line, families with kids at the front.”
They obeyed me without question and half floated, half walked back to the shuttle transport waiting area. I was the voice of reason, of authority. I wore the gray-and-black uniform of the ESF Marines. I was big and I was armed. Their protector. They listened.
As soon as they were safely out of the way, I felt a vibration in my boots. The sound that followed was nothing like I’d ever heard. The stuff of nightmares. It turns out that the fracturing of the metal bones of a space station has a particular, terrible sound. Almost like moaning. Then it all went to shit.
An explosive roar and hurricane-force winds engulfed me. An icy white mist. I felt a lancing pain inside my ears. Everything went cottony quiet. The wind stopped blowing. I couldn’t hear my own heartbeat.
Inches from me a pressure door had automatically slammed closed. I had no awareness of it happening. It blocked my compartment from the waiting area. A safety measure designed to protect passengers from a shuttle bay decompression. But in this case, it was the transport waiting area that lost its structural integrity, not Shuttle Bay Three. The pressure door protected me, not them. Through a slab of frosty glass, I watched the people I sent to the waiting area sail out through a gaping hole where an airlock used to be. Backpacks spilling their loads. Shoes that had been torn from their owners’ feet. Hoodies and other articles of clothing. Phones. A doll.
