Starship Ass Complete Omnibus

by Ethan Freckleton

  “Well I don’t understand this, neither,” Redbeard scowled.

  “Captain,” Spiner spoke up from his station, having slipped away unnoticed. “I’ve found an article on the Running of the Donkey contest that explains what each of those lines represents. Would you like me to put it on screen?”

  “Yes please.”

  Spiner did so.

  Harry blinked again. The text was endless, and reading wasn’t exactly his best talent. Oh boy.

  “Bollocks,” Redbeard said, and meandered over to fall heavily into his chair. “This is gonna take hours.”

  “Most likely,” the captain agreed. “But what else can we do? If knowing all of this is how we win this contest, then that’s what we have to do. So.” She clapped her hands together, seeming to draw Kitt out of a trance-like state. “Node, we at least have the specifications for the garments now. Prep the replicators to comply.”

  She turned to Spiner, Kitt, and Redbeard in turn. “You three, start measuring the donkeys, then input the measurements into the replicators when you have them. I want this done in…” she checked the nearest chronometer, “two hours tops. Meanwhile, I’ll go over all this.”

  She waved back at the pattern displayed on the screen behind her. “When the two hours are up, all hands meet me in the hold and we’ll go over this showmanship thing.”

  “What about me?” Harry asked again, a hopeful note in his voice.

  Captain Cass turned precisely on her booted heel to face him. “For now, I want you to rest up. If you really want to be in that contest, you need to be in tip-top shape.”

  Harry lurched to his feet, locking down on Buddy to hide the grimace. “Aye, aye, Captain!”

  “Meet the rest of us in the hold in two hours to go over the patterns as well. Got it?”

  Harry nodded vigorously. Well, at least he wasn’t going to be left out this time!

  “Okay, crew.” She looked to all of them and straightened her shoulders, chin high. “Let’s do this.”

  20

  Harry was all for new experiences, so when the stern human male in colorful scarves circled around him in the staging pens, the momentary panic and shock of having Buddy’s dangly bits groped and explored was only temporary.

  “Woah,” Harry exclaimed out loud, craning his head back. “Is that why gods have hands?”

  The man leaned to the side, making eye contact with Harry. If he seemed put off by a talking donkey, he didn’t show it. “If you please, try to hold still, and it will be over soon.”

  “Let the good man do ‘is work, will ya?” Redbeard stood a few short paces away with his arms folded across his chest. When the captain had asked him what he was doing, he’d mentioned something about “Keeping a close eye on the arse ta’ make sure he don’ mess anything up.”

  Following that, Redbeard had been full of personal commentary on Harry’s garments, which consisted of a sheer white material worn as a vest with straps and buckles across the chest. A matching wrap adorned his hips, with small, hollow metallic balls that jingled and clinked whenever he took a step.

  “You may call me Al-Qadi,” the man corrected.

  “What?” Redbeard asked.

  Al-Qadi’s hands continued to probe. “I have a name. On my world, it is polite to use a man’s name when referring to him.”

  Harry nuzzled into his host’s spine and managed to impede Buddy’s desire to wiggle and pull away.

  “There, you see?” Al-Qadi stepped back and walked around to face Harry. He pulled out a tablet and tapped on its surface.

  “Can I move now?” Harry asked.

  Al-Qadi inclined his head and continued to work at his device.

  Harry shook his body out, releasing the tension, creating a chorus of jingling bells. Then, he lifted his head and tried to peer at the tablet. “What are you doing?”

  Al-Qadi grunted and tapped a couple more times, the final movement with an exaggerated flourish. “I’m judging you.”

  “Judging me?”

  “He’s not the only one judging ya, donkey,” Redbeard helpfully added.

  “Yes. I get to decide if you are worthy.”

  Harry took a moment to think it over, tilting his head to the right, then to the left, then back again.

  Buddy, we don’t like being judged, do we? Last time someone said they were judging me, they “passed judgment.” Now I don’t have a tribe. But, at least I still have you.

  Buddy answered by drawing attention to a growing gas bubble in his stomach. An overwhelming sensation of pain flooded the nervous system, causing Harry’s little tick body to recoil—his control over his host nearly slipping in the process.

  “You can relax now,” said Al-Qadi. “I’m done here.”

  The captain stood over with the other donkeys. She looked up as the judge approached.

  Redbeard and Harry looked on for a moment as the captain and Al-Qadi exchanged words out of earshot of the others. Well, at least they’d managed to pass the showmanship part of the contest, which Harry was sure was the hardest part.

  “Has anyone ever judged you, Redbeard?” Harry asked.

  Redbeard grunted and peered down at him. “What?”

  “You know. Has anyone ever grabbed your dangly bits before?”

  Redbeard’s face darkened to something approaching crimson as he squinted at Harry so hard that Harry thought his eyes might burst from the pressure.

  Harry returned his gaze with an innocent expression. He’d say anything, or talk to anyone right now, just to think about something other than the stomach pains, or his aching feet. No matter what, he was going to participate in this race … unless the judging man in scarves didn’t let him, of course. The thought of not being selected was almost too much to bear.

  “No,” replied Redbeard.

  “What?” Harry replied with a start.

  “What do ye mean, ‘what?’ I answered yer silly question. No,” Redbeard said with unexpected enunciation.

  Harry bared his teeth in a smile. “Oh, okay. It feels kind of funny. You should try it sometime.”

  Redbeard snorted. “Yer pretty funny, fer an arse.”

  “Oh look,” Harry said. “He’s judging again.”

  They resumed watching Al-Qadi as he walked around the herd, groping here and there. Not all of the donkeys maintained their composure.

  Redbeard chortled when a jennie turned around and tried to bite her assailant. The man took a practiced step back, avoiding her snapping teeth with apparent ease.

  “Know what, ‘Arry?” Redbeard asked. “If it weren’t fer tha’ prize, I’d a paid money to see you bite ‘im.”

  Harry noted the giant man had addressed him by name for once. At least, he was fairly certain that was what Redbeard meant. Arry and Harry were pretty dang close to the same.

  The judge returned to the captain, who promptly looked over in their direction and waved them over.

  “C’mon, arse,” Redbeard said.

  Harry followed, doing his best to appear capable and pain-free as he trotted over.

  “Congratulations,” said Al-Qadi. “This donkey here gets to move on to the final contest.”

  Harry felt a thrill of excitement, almost strong enough to make him forget about the cramping stomach. “Yay!” he shouted. He would have pranced about, too, but he knew he needed to go easy on his host’s feet until the big race.

  Captain Cass asked, “What about the rest of our donkeys?”

  The judge shook his head. “I’m sorry. Only one of your donkeys met our exacting specifications … and that’s this one here.”

  Redbeard followed the judge’s gaze to Harry. “Wha’, tha’ talking arse? Surely, yer pullin’ us by the bits?”

  “This is the one. If you wanted more candidates to move forward, you should have fed them all as well as you did this one.”

  “You’re joking,” Captain Cass said flatly.

  “Wha’?” Redbeard exclaimed. “The race is fer fat arses only, then?” He began t
o laugh. “This I gotta see with me own eyes!”

  Al-Qadi put on a patient smile and nodded. “Just so. And now, I must finish judging the rest of the entries. Good luck to you.”

  Captain Cass and Redbeard watched the judge walk away, then exchanged glances.

  “Cap’n,” Redbeard began, “I’ve done some crazy things in me piratin’ days, but this one takes tha cake.”

  Harry groaned as the next wave of stomach pain rolled over his host.

  The captain knelt down next to him, her soft brown gaze sweeping over him head to tail. “You look like shit, Harold. I hope you can do this, because if you don’t win, I don’t think we can afford to leave.”

  “No pressure,” Redbeard added.

  The roar of the crowd vibrated in the bones of Harry’s host as he and the other race participants made their way through the dark, cool tunnel toward the racetrack.

  Harry had to hang on tight to his control, as Buddy wanted nothing more than to turn around and bolt back the way they had come. He dug down deep into Buddy’s spinal cord.

  Hang in there, Buddy! When we win this race, we’re gonna be famous! You’ll see!

  Buddy did not seem convinced. He quivered with nerves.

  Harry himself was feeling rather nervous, especially given that neither his feet nor his stomach were feeling any better.

  But Captain Cass walked beside him, leading him along like any other donkey in a colorful halter bedecked with tassels along the forehead and cheeks.

  Harry felt rather fancy in all his gear, and honored that Captain Cass herself had opted to escort him, but it seemed the other donkeys in this contest did not share this appreciation of their garb nor their escorts.

  He and the captain had to side-step more than a few gnashing teeth and flying hooves as they went, the captain swearing as one small hoof clanged against the power armor protecting her thigh.

  Harry laid his ears back at the troublesome jack and bared his teeth, swinging his rear around in warning.

  “Hey, watch it!” he snapped. “Touch her again and I’ll wallop you one! You won’t wake up for a week!” Or at least a good thirty minutes, he thought, remembering Dillbilly.

  The man leading that particular jack did a double-take at hearing Harry’s voice. Then he stared, eyes bulging, going from Harry to the captain to Harry again.

  “That’s right,” Harry said, turning frontward toward the man again and putting on his best mean face. “I said, watch it.”

  The man recoiled, still struggling to control his own donkey. But, to Harry’s satisfaction, he moved hurriedly away through the crowd to put a safe distance between him and the donkey who could talk.

  Harry grinned up proudly at Captain Cass, and was thrilled to find her already looking down at him, a faint smile on her face.

  His heart swelled. Despite the shooting pains racing up his legs, he stood a little taller and stepped a little higher.

  At last, they emerged from the tunnel into the dazzling sunlight, and Harry squinted. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision as the crowds’ cheering reached a crescendo.

  Again, Buddy tried to bolt, and Harry almost didn’t react fast enough to stop him. The result was a little sideways hop, which caused Captain Cass to glance at him quizzically.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Harry squawked out. It was hard to speak and maintain such rigid control of his host at the same time. “Fine. I’m fine.”

  “Good.”

  They reached the track, which was nothing more than a large, rectangular expanse of dirt with straight lines marked from end to end with colored paint upon the ground. The dirt area was surrounded by a whitewashed wall, about the height of Harry’s head, with stacks of seats rising beyond the wall high up into the sky.

  Harry’s mouth dropped open at the sight of so many gods—humans—in one place. He had never, ever seen so many people at once.

  There must be thousands of them!

  The gods came in every color, dressed in all manner of garb. They shouted and hollered, whistled and whooped, and some waved hats, banners, scarves, or flags.

  Harry almost tripped over himself as he gaped at the crowd. He absently followed the gentle tug of the leadrope, the captain steering him toward the starting line.

  “Welcome,” a big voice suddenly boomed from the sky, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, “to the galaxy-famous Irrakeen Running of the Donkey!”

  The crowd went wild, screaming and chanting.

  The donkeys went wild too, some managing to escape the grips of their escorts and running off to who-knows-where, their humans yelling curses as they gave futile chase.

  Harry tried to ignore the chaos as best he could. Focus! Focus, Harry! Focus, Buddy! We can do this!

  Captain Cass watched the mayhem with an amused gleam in her eye. She looked down to Harry, who was the only donkey not running amok or trying to run amok.

  “Well,” she drawled, “I never thought I’d say this, but for once I’m glad you are the way you are.”

  The compliment sent a shiver of pride through Harry’s little tick body, which was echoed in a shiver from Buddy. He beamed. “I’m going to win this race, Captain.”

  She lifted an eyebrow, once more scanning the gathering of rebellious donkeys. “Yes, yes, I think you might be right.”

  “Race participants!” the big voice boomed again. “Take your places at the starting line!”

  And they did. Or at least, Harry and the captain did. Then, they waited while the rest of the participants struggled to get their donkeys in place. Harry hoped they would hurry up. All this standing and walking was really making his feet hurt.

  He leaned backward to put more weight on his hind feet and relieve some of the pressure up front.

  The crowd eventually quieted, until the noise was a mere buzz of conversation.

  At last, everyone who still had a donkey in hand was more or less lined up, along the thick white line painted in the dirt.

  “Race participants!” the announcer yelled again.

  Harry put his ears back. Did the guy have to shout so loud?

  “Mount up now!”

  Harry wasn’t sure what exactly that meant, but he understood once he saw the other humans clamber clumsily onto their donkeys’ backs. He sighed, head drooping. He’d wanted Captain Cass to ride him, too, even if it was only a crude, ungainly kind of riding, but the crew had been against it.

  They’d claimed it would only slow Harry down, and they were probably right. Besides, as the captain had told him, the other donkeys were only being ridden in order to control their path from one end of the arena to the other.

  Self-aware and in full comprehension of what he was supposed to do, Harry had little need for the extra burden of a rider. He’d have to wait for some other opportunity to have the captain ride him … or him to ride her.

  Instead, Captain Cass removed his halter, looping it over her shoulder and smiling at him. “Okay, Harold. This is it. All you have to do is beat the rest of these bastards to the opposite end of the track. Think you can do that?”

  He nodded, shifting on his sore feet. Come on, Buddy. Don’t let me down now! “Absolutely, Captain! You can count on me!”

  “Good.” Captain Cass glanced up to the thousands of people in the stands, then up to the cloudless sky, so blue it almost hurt to look at. “Because otherwise … we might be stuck here a very long time.”

  Buddy slipped past Harry’s imposed control, shaking his head. As interesting as this new city had been, it was far too hot here for his host’s comfort. “Don’t worry, Captain. We’ll be off this ball of sand in no time!”

  The captain’s smile grew wider, and she patted his neck, now damp with sweat and covered with sand and dust. So much for his bath.

  “That’s what I like to hear,” she said. “Good luck.”

  With that, she stepped away, taking a place along the wall.

  A murmur rippled through the cro
wd at her action, and Harry saw the other riders nearest to him staring again. A dark-skinned woman beside him was squinting at him as she wrestled with her own mount, a pretty brown jenny.

  The jenny tossed her head and brayed loudly.

  Buddy’s attention strayed toward his female neighbor, but Harry quickly reasserted control. Now was no time to be distracted! He swallowed hard and focused on the painted lines in front of him.

  Just make it to the other end as fast as you can, okay, Buddy?

  “Citizens of Irrakeen,” the booming voice echoed out over the stands, “visitors from around the planet and across the galaxy … you’re in for a treat. Held only once every twenty years, the moment we’ve all been waiting for is finally here! Are you ready?”

  The cheering surged, deafening. Flags and banners and scarves waved wildly, filling the layers of seats with motion and color.

  The donkeys startled, throwing up their heads, pawing, braying. Some reared or bucked, tossing their hapless riders to the dirt. But the announcer didn’t wait for those participants to recover.

  “Then let the Running of the Donkey begin!” he cried. “Race participants, on your mark!”

  Harry found his mark, his front hooves directly on the white line. He set his legs, prepared to jump forward at the sound of the cannon as they’d rehearsed on the SS Bray.

  “Get set!”

  Harry laid his ears back, his full focus on the stretch of lined dirt before him. Even the thunderous noise of the crowd seemed far away.

  This is it. My chance to prove myself. My chance to win. My chance to become a real space pirate and find a new tribe!

  The boom of the cannon was much louder than Harry had expected. Buddy shot forward of his own accord, scared out of his wits. Harry let him go, adrenaline propelling his short legs on faster than they’d ever moved before.

  Go, Buddy, go!

  But then Buddy veered off to the left, wild-eyed and panicked.

  No, no! No, Buddy, wrong way!