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    Smith's Monthly #26
    Smith's Monthly #26
    Smith's Monthly #26
    Ebook297 pages3 hours

    Smith's Monthly #26

    By Dean Wesley Smith

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Over sixty-five thousand words of original fiction from USA Today bestselling writer Dean Wesley Smith.

    In this twenty-sixth monthly volume the full novel Star Rain: A Seeders Universe Novel, plus five short stories, and half of a non-fiction writing book.

    Short Stories
    Not Saleable for Sale: A Poker Boy Story
    The Life and Death of Fortune Cookie Tyrant
    A Time to Dream: A Captain Bryan Saber Story
    Tumbling Down the Nighttime
    In Search of the Perfect Orgasm or How Doing It with a Giant Lizard Can Be Fun

    Full Novel
    Star Rain: A Seeders Universe Novel

    Serial Nonfiction
    Writing into the Dark (Part 1 of 2)

    Nonfiction
    Introduction: A Writing Book

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWMG Publishing
    Release dateFeb 15, 2016
    ISBN9781310482168
    Smith's Monthly #26
    Author

    Dean Wesley Smith

    Considered one of the most prolific writers working in modern fiction, USA Today bestselling writer Dean Wesley Smith published far more than a hundred novels in forty years, and hundreds of short stories across many genres. At the moment he produces novels in several major series, including the time travel Thunder Mountain novels set in the Old West, the galaxy-spanning Seeders Universe series, the urban fantasy Ghost of a Chance series, a superhero series starring Poker Boy, and a mystery series featuring the retired detectives of the Cold Poker Gang. His monthly magazine, Smith’s Monthly, which consists of only his own fiction, premiered in October 2013 and offers readers more than 70,000 words per issue, including a new and original novel every month. During his career, Dean also wrote a couple dozen Star Trek novels, the only two original Men in Black novels, Spider-Man and X-Men novels, plus novels set in gaming and television worlds. Writing with his wife Kristine Kathryn Rusch under the name Kathryn Wesley, he wrote the novel for the NBC miniseries The Tenth Kingdom and other books for Hallmark Hall of Fame movies. He wrote novels under dozens of pen names in the worlds of comic books and movies, including novelizations of almost a dozen films, from The Final Fantasy to Steel to Rundown. Dean also worked as a fiction editor off and on, starting at Pulphouse Publishing, then at VB Tech Journal, then Pocket Books, and now at WMG Publishing, where he and Kristine Kathryn Rusch serve as series editors for the acclaimed Fiction River anthology series. For more information about Dean’s books and ongoing projects, please visit his website at www.deanwesleysmith.com and sign up for his newsletter.

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      Book preview

      Smith's Monthly #26 - Dean Wesley Smith

      Introduction

      A WRITING BOOK

      Something kind of different and fun in this issue.

      Instead of serializing a novel, I’m going to serialize a nonfiction book, sort of how I did the golf book earlier in this magazine. But this is a writing book and will only be in this issue and the next.

      The writing book is called Writing into the Dark.

      My blog, for those of you who follow it, tends to be mostly about writing in various ways, although I do post collection pictures at times and cat pictures as well.

      But mostly my blog talks about the life of a professional writer.

      A few years back I did a lecture and a series of blogs on how to write a novel without an outline. That’s basically what writing into the dark means.

      Writing into the Dark has sold well and has gotten a lot of positive responses. So figured it would be fun to have it here just for two issues.

      Then in issue #28, a novel serial will start. Finally, after thirty years, I am bringing my first published novel back into print and serializing it here.

      So stay tuned for that.

      In this issue I also have three special short stories out of the past.

      All three were published in anthologies and I have had them for sale in electronic standalone for a few years now. But thought this issue would be a good one to put them together.

      Two are set in nursing homes. One is the origin story, the very first Captain Brian Saber story I ever wrote. Another is a story that sort of predated my Nebula Award-nominated story In the Shade of the Slowboat Man. This story is called Tumbling Down the Nighttime.

      The third fun story is called In Search of the Perfect Orgasm or How Doing it with a Big Lizard Can Be Fun. Yes, that’s the title, almost longer than the story.

      I do a full introduction to the short story about some various things that happened with that story. The story behind the story, so-to-speak.

      The novel in this issue is Star Rain: A Seeders Universe Novel.

      Star Rain followed right where Star Mist left off last issue. The Seeders Universe just keeps getting bigger and bigger.

      Plus this issue leads off with a Poker Boy story, as normal.

      So I hope you enjoy the five stories and the novel and the first half of one of my writing books.

      —Dean Wesley Smith

      November 23rd, 2015

      Lenny the Leprechaun’s wife went missing and now he wants Poker Boy to find her. Not known for finding people, Poker Boy only rescues people and dogs and the world in the process.

      Mrs. Lenny’s vanishing act seems to have no connection to Poker Boy. Until Poker Boy looks deeper.

      Then Poker Boy knows he might be able to save her, if she still lives. Which he doubts.

      NOT SALEABLE FOR SALE

      A Poker Boy Story

      ONE

      Seeing a leprechaun appear in a small casino in the mountains of Oregon can make even a professional poker player like me lose my train of thought.

      I flipped my A-10 off-suit into the muck and turned to my right as the leprechaun waved at me.

      He had on the standard, leprechaun-green top hat that didn’t cover his pointed ears but sort of rode on them like they were training wheels for the big hat. He had a green jacket, brown pants, and a long-stemmed pipe in his mouth that didn’t seem to be lit. It stuck out of his scraggly red beard like a weed out of a ragged lawn.

      He wasn’t any taller than the back of a poker chair, and was as skinny as a flagpole. Somehow he climbed onto a chair, on top of an empty poker table, and then sat down, his big brown shoes with gold buckles dangling over the edge of the table like he was a kid sitting in a huge chair.

      I glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed the new visitor.

      No one had, even though there were three tables of eight going at the moment. Spirit Winds Casino in the Oregon mountains didn’t have many people in the poker room at midnight on a Wednesday.

      I was here because I was just waiting for my girlfriend to get off work at the MGM Grand Casino in Las Vegas, and I figured the plucking of tourists would be easier here tonight than in Vegas. And since, as Poker Boy, I could jump back and forth instantly with my Jump Anywhere Power, it didn’t matter where I played.

      Besides, this was my old home casino; I knew everyone here, and it was comfortable. There was a lot to be said about comfort.

      Now a stupid leprechaun had interrupted my nice evening.

      I had only seen leprechauns in Vegas at the Okey-Doke Casino out on the old highway. It was one of those places hidden with magic, so that no one knew it was there unless you were taken there. I had helped solve a big problem there a while back, so maybe this guy was just coming to say hi and thank me again.

      I doubted it. I had learned that no one could ever trust a leprechaun. And I had no plan on trusting this one, either.

      I pushed away from the table and tossed the dealer a ten-dollar chip. If I’m not back in thirty minutes, rack them and hold them for me, would you?

      The dealer nodded and rapped the chip on the felt in acknowledgement.

      I adjusted my black leather coat and zipped it up, then made sure my black fedora-like hat was on solid before turning away from the table.

      Already the little skinny guy had cost me money. My hunch was it was only going to go downhill from here.

      Where’d you leave the pot of gold? I asked as I walked past him.

      Funny, he said, his voice deep and raspy and not fitting his thin, small body at all. Very damn funny.

      Leprechauns hated being teased about their pots of gold. They had lost all of it, every damn pot, a couple of centuries before in a bad bet with a few aliens who happened to be visiting Earth at the time. It was still a touchy subject.

      I just kept walking, letting him jump down from the table and follow me. I had no intention of carrying on a conversation with an invisible man while on casino security cameras. That wouldn’t do my reputation any good at all.

      Besides, I needed a break and some fresh air.

      At a fast walk, I weaved my way through the slot machines, cutting through all the smoke and older people plugging the machines like the world was about to end and they wanted to get rid of every dollar before it did.

      As we neared the front door of the casino, the little guy finally caught up with me, his pipe in one hand, his other hand holding his hat onto his head as he ran. He was panting and swearing lightly under his breath.

      Shouldn’t smoke so much, I said as I pushed open the door and hesitated to let him go through ahead of me.

      You shouldn’t be such a jerk, the little guy said in his deep voice. He sounded more like a country-western singer and he didn’t have any accent at all.

      You’re the one who is bothering me, I said, heading out toward the parking lot to where I knew there was a small dead spot in the security cameras. The fall night air felt great after wading through the smoke around those slot machines. Clean and pure.

      I glanced at my watch. Still over two hours before I had to pick up Patty at the MGM Grand.

      Patty was also called Front Desk Girl, and she was a superhero in the hospitality part of the gambling universe. We fit together perfectly and made a great team. She had long brown hair and wonderful brown eyes I loved getting lost in. She was only a few inches shorter than I was, but when she wore heels we seemed to be the same size.

      I just came to ask for help from the great Poker Boy, the leprechaun said.

      Sarcasm just won’t get me doing anything, I said. So what’s your name?

      He glared at me. I knew that knowing any magical creature’s name gave me power over them. And he knew I knew it. He had no intention of giving me that kind of power.

      So what do I call you? I asked.

      Lenny, he said. He clearly must have already figured that’s the name he would use with me.

      Lenny the Leprechaun, I said, shaking my head as I reached the dead area in the security cameras and stopped, sitting down on the edge of a planter to be more at his level. Got it.

      I’m an elf, he said, getting red in the face and spreading his thin legs into a fighting stance in front of me. Old elves who wore green and smoked pipes for some reason never liked to be called leprechauns. No one had explained that to me yet. Someday I would ask Stan, the God of Poker, why that was.

      Sorry, I said. So what can I do for you?

      Lenny took the pipe out of his mouth and stuck it in his belt, then adjusted his tall hat and then his green vest. Then he went to pacing in front of me, two steps, turn, two steps. With his short legs he didn’t go far in either direction.

      He clearly didn’t want to tell me why he had come to find me.

      I clicked on my Trust Me super power," added a little Calming Power and aimed it at him.

      He suddenly stopped pacing and faced me.

      Nice magic, he said, taking a deep breath and clearly relaxing. Thanks, I feel better.

      I had never thought of my powers as magic before, but I suppose they were. And I had never tried them on a magical creature before now. Learn something every day, even from a Leprechaun.

      You’re welcome, I said, switching off my power. Now, what’s happening?

      Mrs. Lenny, my wife, is missing.

      TWO

      Now, of all the things a leprechaun might come to me for help with, I sure would have never thought it would be to find his wife. I didn’t even know where leprechauns lived. I had heard that the ones around Vegas lived in magically hidden forests and glens in valleys up by Lake Mead. But I would have to ask someone above me in the ranks if even that was right.

      And besides, I was a superhero in the world of gambling, specializing in poker, thus the name, Poker Boy. I wasn’t Missing-Persons-Boy, although I wouldn’t be surprised that a superhero with that name actually existed. Gods and superheroes seemed to exist for just about everything on the planet.

      So he had to have a special reason for coming to me.

      I’m sorry to hear about your wife, I said, actually being sincere. But not sure what you think I can do to help.

      I was told you would be the best person to help me, he said, looking very worried.

      Who told you that? More than likely this was just a joke being played on me, and so far I had fallen for it and taken the little guy a little too seriously.

      The general manager of the Okey-Doke Casino checked around and found out you were the best. He asked your boss if it would be all right if I contacted you, and he said sure.

      My boss? I asked, now stunned. Who do you think my boss is?

      The little guy sort of shrugged. Some guy named Stan I think.

      That was enough. I looked up into the air and shouted Stan!

      An instant later Stan, the God of Poker, appeared beside me in the parking lot. He had on his normal brown slacks, short-sleeved business shirt that matched his slacks and loafers. He had nothing at all distinctive about his face and his brown hair was cut short, but not too short. Perfect camouflage for a poker player. He could walk down the street and no one would notice him.

      Stan glanced around and nodded. Dead camera area, huh?

      And fresh air, I said.

      A little chilly, he said and a brown sweater appeared on him.

      You know Lenny here, I said, indicating the leprechaun.

      Stan nodded. Never met, but heard of the problem. Sorry to hear about your wife. If anyone can help you, it’s Poker Boy.

      Okay, so now I was convinced that Stan was in on this joke as well. Gods were well known for pulling pranks and practical jokes. And Stan had done his share over the years.

      I stood, adjusting my leather coat. Okay, so tell me the punch line so I can get back to my game.

      Lenny the Leprechaun looked pained and Stan just looked puzzled. After a moment Stan seemed to catch on to what I was saying, and he shook his head and looked at Lenny.

      You haven’t told him your problem yet?

      I told him my wife was missing, he said, defensively.

      But you didn’t tell him where, did you? Stan asked, staring down at the little elf.

      Lenny looked almost insulted. Where else would my wife go missing that I couldn’t find her?

      I shook my head and started away from the dead area of the casino parking lot. I’ve got a game to finish.

      Silicon Suckers, Stan said.

      The two words stopped me cold and I turned around and went back.

      Silicon Suckers are a very, very old race of beings that have been on Earth far longer than humans. They are often mistaken for the Grays by alien-watchers. The Silicon Suckers live in what they call castles under desert areas. They have huge, city-sized caverns and hundreds of miles of tunnels under the desert outside of Vegas on the north side of town. The Silicon Suckers control a large amount of desert all around Las Vegas. I have done numbers of favors for them over the years, so I am an honored guest in their cities.

      They also killed an old girlfriend of mine when she wouldn’t return some sacred silicon a doctor had put into her breasts. I had warned her many times that the Silicon Suckers would get their silicon back one way or another. And they did.

      I ignored Lenny and looked at Stan. I thought the fairy world and the Silicon Suckers were not on speaking terms.

      They aren’t, Stan said, clearly disgusted. But Mrs. Lenny thought she might be able to negotiate with them for a small piece of property near the lake.

      Did she ask anyone why that property would never be for sale? I asked, stunned. The only property the Silicon Suckers controlled near Lake Mead was a cliff face that represented some of their deepest beliefs and history. I was told that the cliff was the last remaining wall of their most ancient city.

      I doubt it, Stan said. Otherwise she wouldn’t be missing.

      We thought it would be a good addition to a charming pool under the wall, Lenny said. Make some slides on it, diving platforms, you know the drill.

      I just shook my head in disgust. Stan just smiled. His poker face was better than mine.

      If Lenny’s wife had tried to even make an offer on that cliff face, she was long since dead. Just the offer would be so insulting to the Silicon Suckers that Lenny’s wife would be moisture for their underground gardens.

      I was about to tell Lenny that, when it dawned on me that I knew exactly where Lenny’s wife was, and that she hadn’t even gotten to insulting the Silicon Suckers by telling them her people wanted to make a recreational area out of a scared place.

      I started laughing and both Stan and Lenny looked at me like I had gone crazy.

      Where did she try to go in? I asked Lenny between laughs.

      At the large Downtown Vegas billboard off the highway on the north, Lenny said, staring at me. And what’s so damned funny about my wife being missing?

      She’s not dead, that’s what, I said. She is a magical being, right?

      Of course, Lenny said, clearly angry, his little frame shaking.

      Then Stan started laughing as well. He understood enough about the Silicon Suckers to know that they must know a person’s true name before they will be allowed inside of their castles. And magical people won’t give out their real names unless really pressed, thus she would never be allowed into any Silicon Sucker city.

      I’ll go get her, I said to Stan. Take Lenny here back to Vegas and wait for my shout.

      THREE

      Stan nodded and I jumped to a small café on a side street in downtown Vegas. The Diner was my team’s favorite hangout, and it had the best hamburgers and milkshakes in town. It was decorated like one of the old 1960s diners, and was run by Madge, a superhero in the food service world.

      When I appeared, Madge was behind the counter and there were no other customers in the place. Madge had her hair up like normal in a tight bun, and her brown waitress dress was two sizes too small as was always normal as well.

      She turned around and smiled. I was expecting you, Poker Boy, she said. I heard that little leprechaun fellow was going to ask you to help rescue his wife from the Silicon Suckers.

      Word travels fast, I said, smiling as she placed three thermoses of hot chocolate on the counter in front of me.

      She knew that hot chocolate was the drug of choice for Silicon Suckers. It was more precious to them than gold was to humans. I had watched one Silicon Sucker take just a drop of hot chocolate and go into orgasmic shudders.

      Three thermoses full would give me some real bargaining power for Mrs. Lenny.

      Thanks, Madge, I said, dropping a hundred dollar bill on the counter. Does that cover everything?

      She smiled and picked up the bill. More than enough.

      Now I was down a hundred and ten for this adventure.

      See you soon, I said.

      I put one thermos into each pocket of my leather coat and then held

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