Pets in Space: Cats, Dogs, and Other Worldly Creatures

by S. E. Smith

“Nothing for me thanks, I ate earlier and I’m on duty. Coffee if you have it would be great.”

  She loved the drink as much as he did, so Owen had taught her to brew coffee their first day together in his quarters. She nodded and walked to the kitchen space to make a cup.

  Fleming drew another chair to the table and sat. “Given your injuries, Owen, I figured I should hold my final briefing on this incident here in your cabin.”

  “Before you say anything else, sir, please don’t blame Jake and his team for what I did, or Dr. Shane. Their coming to rescue us was a literal lifesaver, and I’ll take responsibility for putting them in harm’s way by my own actions. I don’t want SCIA repercussions against them.”

  Fleming took the mug of hot coffee from Tyrelle with a murmured, “Thank you,” and politely half rose as she sat down. She pulled Midorri into her lap as if to calm her nerves. “I always had Special Forces Teams as key elements of my strategy when I commanded a battleship,” he said as he sat and stirred cinna spice into his drink. “When I agreed to join the CLC Line, I saw no reason not to have a similar capacity on board. As we’ve seen in recent years with the rise in space piracy and other challenges, even a civilian vessel may need a core of well-trained operators at some juncture. Jake Dilon is one of the finest Special Forces officers I ever met, and I back his decisions. Anything he and his team did for you was under my authority. I’m the man in command, and the responsibility is mine.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Fleming turned his attention to the other occupant of the cabin. “Miss Tyrelle, while your decision to work for the SCIA as an informant was admirable and courageous, I had serious concerns with the way Agent Paterson coerced you, a mere three days after we’d rescued you, to sign her agreement. I conveyed my concerns directly to certain interested parties in the Mellurean hierarchy.”

  “You – you went above Agent Paterson’s head to the Mellureans?” Incredulous for a moment, Owen recalled all the rumors about Fleming’s connection with the mysterious, powerful alien race, leverage responsible in part for Maeve escaping termination when her original military ship host was decommissioned, and becoming the AI for a cruise liner commanded by Fleming.

  “Agent Paterson told us herself the Mellureans had an interest in the case.” Fleming sipped his coffee and shrugged.

  Although Owen thought he detected a gleam of amusement in the captain’s dark eyes.

  “I merely sent messages through my own channels. As I anticipated, the Mellurean Council wasn’t pleased to hear how Tyrelle, a priestess among her own people, and a woman with serious psychic powers, had been treated by the SCIA. The evidence you already provided, the evidence on the sensors you took into Devir Six and the evidence found in the ruins of the Combine installation is more than enough and generating significant new leads.” His eyes crinkled as if privately amused, which he explained a moment later. “I’ve been given to understand Agent Paterson has been removed from the case and reassigned to duty in an outer Sector.” He unzipped the pocket of his utilities and extracted a shiny new personal AI, which he slid across the table to Tyrelle.

  She stared blankly at the black rectangle.

  “May I?” Owen took the device and activated it for her.

  “Tyrelle Zephyr, Sectors citizen, Mellurean affiliation noted,” said the AI’s voice. It recited her citizen ID number, followed by banking details, with Tyrelle apparently being the recipient of a substantial reward for her part in bringing down the Devir Six Combine operation. “Footnote,” said the AI’s voice efficiently, “Cleared to travel to the moons of Mellure at any time, passage guaranteed, one companion allowed.”

  “Access to Mellure is a rare visa,” he said, raising his eyebrows and looking at the captain.

  “They’d like to talk to her. The Council promised to try to determine where your home world may be, but I’m afraid we all think that’s a remote possibility during the ongoing combat with the Mawreg. They also promised to forward me any intel recovered as to the whereabouts of your sister or any other prisoners from your planet.”

  “I’m grateful, and I understand we’ll probably never hear anything but just to know someone is watching for her, for them, is a comfort. Tyrelle Zephyr?” she asked, staring at her ID.

  “Bureaucracy requires a last name,” Fleming said, with a shrug. “Seemed appropriate. You can change it if you want a different surname.”

  “Oh, I like the name,” she said. “I’m honored. But where will I go now? What happens to me?”

  “Which brings me to the final reason I’m here this evening,” the captain said. “Owen, you’re the finest Cargo Master I’ve ever met, and I’m intent on keeping you on the ship’s roster, working for me. I’m not a fool, I know wherever Miss Zephyr goes, you’ll go.”

  “Damn straight.”

  “CLC isn’t running this ship as a charity. I can’t take on nonpaying, noncontributing sentients on a long-term basis. Fortunately, I happen to have several openings in the hydroponics section, and I’d like to offer you a job, Miss Zephyr, as a senior specialist on my direct staff. I’d like you to concentrate on the ornamentals, seeing if you can improve our profit margin there by upgrading the product. The new chief of Hydroponics will report to you and to me, once we hire someone.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Chief Takkei and I would also take it as a personal favor if you’d be willing to assist with the meditation garden.”

  Eyes glowing, she said, “Yes! I accept with pleasure. The solution is wonderful!”

  “Welcome to the crew.” Fleming extended his hand across the table, and Tyrelle awkwardly shook on the deal. “The Purser will get in touch with you about salary and benefits. The position comes with a private cabin—”

  Owen cleared his throat.

  “But since the Cargo Master here has one of the largest officer’s cabins on board, other than mine, I’m assuming you won’t need separate quarters. Tell the Purser if you do.” He drained the last of the coffee, set the mug aside and rose. “And by the way, the Mellureans assure me the Combine won’t ever bother you again, nor will the SCIA attempt to contact you. I have a personal guarantee from the highest levels of Mellure.” He smiled. “You’re safe, Tyrelle. Maybe we can’t get you home again – yet -”

  “This is my home now, with Owen. How can we ever thank you, Captain?”

  He shook his head. “No thanks required. My job is to take care of my ship, my crew and my passengers, even the inadvertent ones. Thanks for the coffee, can’t remember when I’ve had a better brew. Good night.” He was out the portal and gone.

  Tyrelle threw herself at Owen, sitting on his lap with arms around his neck. “Free and clear is what your people say, yes? Both of us. Your captain accomplished much on our behalf.”

  He kissed her. “Fleming’s one of a kind all right. I’m proud to serve with him. I’m proud to serve with you – welcome to the crew. I didn’t see that coming, but I like it.”

  “Truly Thuun must have heard my prayers and diverted my cargo container to this ship, so you and I might meet. He showed me the way to regain my honor, to be able to stand next to you, my warrior, and take down the evil ones together.” She gave the table a cursory glance. “Are you hungry? Or would you like to skip dinner and let me sing the blessing for your leg? I’m too excited to eat now.”

  He kissed her neck, scattering little caresses on her soft skin until he reached her lips. “I could go for dessert first, finishing dinner later,” he whispered in her ear, one hand rising to cup her breast.

  Blushing, she rose and took his hand. “Energy treatment first, and then we’ll see.”

  As they walked to the bedroom together, Owen heard the dishes clatter as Moby and Midorri jumped onto the table to investigate the remnants of the abandoned meal. They were welcome to it – after all, the pets were the ones who found Tyrelle for him, that day in the cargo bay.

  Enjoy the treat, you earned it!

  Also by Veronica Scott

  SF
Sectors Romances

  Escape From Zulaire

  Wreck of the Nebula Dream

  Mission to Mahjundar

  Star Cruise: Marooned

  Star Cruise: Outbreak

  Hostage to the Stars

  Lady of the Star Wind

  Trapped on Talonque

  About Veronica Scott

  Best Selling Science Fiction & Paranormal Romance author and “SciFi Encounters” columnist for the USA Today Happily Ever After blog, Veronica Scott grew up in a house with a library as its heart. Dad loved science fiction, Mom loved ancient history and Veronica thought there needed to be more romance in everything. When she ran out of books to read, she started writing her own stories.

  Three time winner of the SFR Galaxy Award, as well as a National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award, Veronica is also the proud recipient of a NASA Exceptional Service Medal relating to her former day job, not her romances! She recently was honored to read the part of Star Trek Crew Member in the audiobook production of Harlan Ellison’s “The City On the Edge of Forever.”

  Learn more about Veronica here:

  @vscotttheauthor

  177217415659637?ref=hl

  https://veronicascott.wordpress.com/

  The Real Dragon by Pauline Baird Jones

  About The Real Dragon

  Emma Standish didn’t think her day could get any worse. Her dad is marrying his boss, her dragon suddenly came back talking and typing, and it’s her fault the Earth, or at least ten square miles of Texas, is going to be destroyed. That’s what happens when you forget something very, very important. Luckily for her, she’s got the love of her life that she can’t remember and her dragon by her side. Who needs to worry when you’re having a day like this?

  One

  My dragon came back the day my dad told me he was getting married again.

  I found him—my dragon, not my dad—sitting on my desk with his front legs on my computer keyboard.

  Typing.

  Of course he’s not typing. Just because it sounded like he was typing, didn’t mean he was typing. His head turned my direction and he blinked. I closed the door behind me and saw what seemed like recognition in his deep, dragon gaze.

  He lifted a front leg—usually a sign of submission in a bearded dragon—and waved his claw at me, or possibly at the computer screen. “I hope you don’t mind?”

  I stepped over to the bed and sank down just before my knees gave out. Peddrenth shifted so he could still see me, his beard flaring black for several seconds, like I’d annoyed him. Bearded dragons make great pets, but male bearded dragons like to dominate, and, despite the submissive paw waving, he’d ruled our shared roost long before he disappeared. I shook my head, closed my dropped jaw and said, “I don’t…mind.”

  Minding wasn’t even on the list of what I felt. Beyond the shock, the disbelief, the awe, and freaked out, I realized the one thing that didn’t surprise me. How he sounded. Kind of gravely, with a slight lisp. Like, well, a dragon.

  He turned back to my computer and symbols began to flash on the screen. My dragon was typing.

  Gobsmacked, I stared at the screen without seeing it at first, but then I realized some of the stuff he was putting on there looked vaguely familiar, if I had time to think about it. Which I didn’t. I had all these questions bouncing around inside my head. I needed to herd them into an orderly queue before something exploded in there. I set my purse down on one side, my brief case on the other, and eased off my shoes. This familiar, post-work day ritual helped. A little. Okay, not that much. But at least my feet were happy.

  I rubbed my temple, then the bridge of my nose. I pinched myself. I seemed to be awake. If I was dreaming, I wanted to wake up. Except for having Peddrenth back. I wouldn’t mind if that was real—with or without the typing and talking. I’d missed him. He’d been my companion, my best friend for ten years, until—

  The typing stopped and Peddrenth slithered around. His paw waved, like giving me permission to speak. So I did.

  “Where have you been for the last eight years?” I sounded more curious than freaked out, which surprised me, because I was pretty freaked out.

  He shouldn’t even be alive. A bearded dragon had a max life span of twelve years. I got him for my eighth birthday and I would be twenty-six in a couple of days. You do the math. On the other hand, he wasn’t supposed to be typing or talking so the life span thing felt moot.

  “Away,” he said significantly.

  “For eight years.” He’d disappeared the same night as the accident. My fingers curled into my palms. I didn’t remember much about that night, except that when the dust settled, Peddrenth and my mom were both gone. Losing them had changed my life almost beyond recognition, but whatever. I’d moved on. Without actually moving on, since I still lived at home with my dad.

  “It is true that eight of your years have passed…” His paw waved again.

  Maybe he was trying to use the Force on me. It had that vibe. Which might explain why I only just noticed his mouth wasn’t moving when he talked. Just in case things weren’t weird enough.

  Was I having a breakdown? In which case I was hallucinating because…oh, wow, it feels lame to think I might be that upset over my dad remarrying. I considered it and decided it wasn’t the marrying part. It was the who part. My dad was the stereotype of the absentminded inventor slash scientist. And he was about to marry Iris. Of all the women who’d tried to get his attention since my mom died, he picks his dragon-lady boss?

  My dad was marrying his boss.

  And mine.

  Just because I found her more personally annoying than just about anyone else in my life, I needed to not lose sight of the fact that if this happened, I stood a good chance of getting my life back—after eight years of being Peddrenthless when I needed my pet dragon the most. “Where have you been?!”

  “You are conversant with faster than light travel.”

  Ice trickled down the center of my back. “How could you know that?” No one knew about my dad’s super-secret, faster-than-light project.

  “For one thing, you have geek plastered all over your Facebook and Instagram profiles.”

  I opened my mouth to ask how he knew that, then noticed the tabs on my browser. My dragon had checked out my social media.

  “And it has long been your dream to travel in space.”

  This was true, but how—oh right. I’d told him everything before he disappeared. “I…didn’t know you understood me.”

  He might have looked aggrieved. “You told me I was the only one who did.”

  “Yes. And I meant it.” For a teenager, “you understand me” is the same as saying “you let me talk all I want and never tell me I’m wrong,” but this didn’t seem like the time to tell him that. That I knew this gave me hope I’d matured, even if I did live at home. Then I wondered why I was talking out loud when my dragon wasn’t. Can you hear me?

  No response from my dragon.

  “How come I can hear you inside my head but you can’t hear me?”

  I felt a d’oh from him.

  “You lack the implant that gives me a telepathic voice.”

  Implant. My dragon had an implant that made him telepathic. Okay. And where—it was starting to sink in that my dragon had been…I couldn’t think it. Not yet. I was a geek. I should be excited, not—

  “So you took,” I sort of managed another dry swallow, “a…a…space trip?”

  I had a sudden flash of memory. Like a movie still frame. The bright light stabbing out of the dark that put us at the center of a spotlight—but that was just a weird dream. A weird, reoccurring dream. It had to be, because if it wasn’t then…then…

  “You observed my departure.”

  I looked away. “I don’t remember much about that night.” I rubbed my face with both hands, leaving them over my eyes. Now I saw the flash of headlights. This time not in still frame. They moved erratically, the glow bouncing off the dense trees that lined the road. The sq
ueal of tires—and then nothing. Just this vast blank ocean inside my head that was awash with guilt.

  My dad had been devastated about losing mom, but it had been eight years. In the Old Testament, even Jacob had only served seven for Rachel, unless you counted the seven extra years he got tricked into serving, but I didn’t want to count those. Eight was bad enough. And I hadn’t even got a date out of my eight years, let alone a spouse or two.

  You don’t have to leave, my dad had told me today after dropping his bombshell, Iris and I want you to stay, to keep working with us.

  Yeah, sure, I’d love to play third wheel to my dad and his wife. I didn’t tell him I’d rather poke out my own eye. I didn’t have to. He was clueless but not that clueless. He’d almost seemed startled by his words, then he’d smiled at me, tempered with a bit of wry and something almost…puzzled. I’d hugged and congratulated him and came upstairs to…a typing, talking dragon. I lowered my hands.

  I had to know. “Were you…abducted by…aliens?”

  “I wasn’t abducted.” His beard flared black again. “It was an accident.”

  My next thought was totally inappropriate, but one can’t always help that.

  Why didn’t they accidentally take me, too?

  “So, you’re not dating Ted?” Peddrenth broke into what had turned into a long silence.

  It wasn’t that I’d run out of questions. I think I had maxed out my ability to process his answers. Here I sat in my bedroom, dealing with the fact that my dad was getting married again, my dragon had taken an accidental trip to space and back, and all I had were book boyfriends. I glanced around. And a bedroom that hadn’t been updated since that night. And who was Ted?

  I started to ask, but then I remembered. The me before the accident had thought Ted might ask me to the senior prom. He hadn’t, of course. I’d been in the hospital with a concussion. And our “dating” had been as imaginary as my book boyfriends.