Harry reasserted control and brought Buddy back into his lane, barely dodging around another shaggy gray jack, who was cutting a hard horizontal line across the track, completely ignoring his swearing rider.
Harry bent his focus back to the finish line, but it was getting hard to tell where it was. Donkeys were everywhere, not even remotely staying in their lanes. Their scrambling hooves kicked up dust, marring the painted lines and obscuring the far end of the track.
Harry squinted through the rising dust cloud and coughed, all the while keeping Buddy’s legs pumping forward. Gradually at first, the pain from his feet penetrated his focus. He fought back against Buddy’s overwhelming urge to stop and take the weight off his hooves.
We can’t stop now, Buddy! Come on! We’re so close!
At least, he suspected they were close. Probably.
The dust haze was getting thicker. Were any of the other donkeys going in the right direction? Harry couldn’t tell. He had no idea where he was in relation to any of the other contestants.
Another jenny came rocketing out of the cloud of dust directly in front of him, riderless, and Harry sat back on his haunches to avoid a head-on collision. The jenny laid her ears back and delivered a shocking bite to his shoulder before tearing off again out of sight.
“Ouch,” he yelled after her. “That was not nice at all!”
But she was already gone, and there was a race to win, so he shook it off and forced Buddy to pick up into a gallop, racing what he hoped was straight ahead and not backward.
He kept his eyes glued to the white lines in the dirt, using them to guide him length by length as he tore down the track.
Chaos and pandemonium surrounded him. Donkeys without humans, humans without donkeys, and a few humans still hanging onto their donkeys. Riding all over the place, running into each other, yelling at each other. Frantic braying and shouts of desperation filled the spaces around him.
All the while, the crowd beyond the curtain of dust roared and chanted with glee.
Somewhere in that crowd stood members of his crew, watching the race. His pirate tribe, if only he could be the first to reach the finish line. Redbeard. Kitt. Spiner. Back on the ship, even Node was probably tuned in to the local coverage of the event. Captain Cass was back at the starting line, too, likely covered head-to-toe in dirt by now.
They were all watching him. They were all counting on him.
His host really, really wanted to stop running, but Harry pressed him onward.
You can do it, Buddy! Come on, we have to do this!
His legs were burning, coat lathered with sweat. Dust choked him with every gasping inhale, his front hooves screaming in pain. His stretching gallop became short and choppy. It was all he could do to keep going.
Almost! Almost, Buddy … come on, hang in there...
Harry’s host had never been in such bad shape before. The arena blurred, his field of vision narrowing, and he realized it probably wasn’t from the dust this time.
His control over Buddy was slipping. Buddy was reaching his physical limit, despite Harry’s cajoling.
No, Buddy, you listen to me—we’ve got this! You are the best damn donkey in the galaxy, and we’re gonna show ‘em! We will win this race!
Buddy’s gallop slowed to a stumbling trot, and the arena grew darker still.
That’s when Harry saw it, through the dimness, tantalizingly close. A few paces ahead, a fat red line in the dirt. The area appeared devoid of donkeys. The finish line.
His heart soared. This is it, Buddy! We got this!
Hoof beats sounded behind him, drawing closer, and fast.
His excitement warred against a surge of desperate terror. He couldn’t lose the race now, not after he’d put Buddy through so much to get this close!
“Buddy,” he gasped out. “Please. GO!”
He buried himself deep into a nerve bundle and gave the poor creature one last burst of strength. Buddy staggered toward the red line, his legs tumbling forward.
The crowd thundered with approval, the ground vibrating, as host and tick crossed the threshold first.
“We did it!” Harry screamed, elation flooding through him. “We did it! We won! Buddy, we won!”
His words were lost in the cheers of the crowd.
Impervious to Harry’s elation, Buddy fell to his knees in the dirt, panting hard.
“Congratulations to Captain Cass and the crew of the SS Bray!” the announcer’s voice shouted cheerfully over the noise of the spectators. “Your donkey, Harold, has won the Irrakeen Running of the Donkey!”
Harry wanted to celebrate. He wanted to dance around. He wanted to jump for joy. He wanted to run to Captain Cass and see the look on her face.
But Buddy wouldn’t move, no matter how hard Harry attempted to nudge him.
His vision was nearly black, and Harry suddenly noticed how fast his host’s heart was beating. Concern dampened the thrill of winning the race.
“Whoa, Buddy, are you all—”
He never got the chance to finish his sentence.
21
For a long time, there was only blackness.
Despite Harry’s best efforts, Buddy would not wake up. Even more concerned now, Harry withdrew his efforts to bring his host back to consciousness and instead turned his attention to Buddy’s bodily functions.
The jack was alive, definitely, but it seemed he’d reached a point of physical exertion beyond Harry’s ability to help.
His heart rate was gradually slowing, so that was good, and his breathing, too, had become slower and deeper. His digestive tract was still upset … that would need tending to when he woke up again. And his feet, especially his front hooves, were throbbing.
That’s weird. That’s never happened before.
Harry made a mental note to investigate more when Buddy woke up. But, for now, there was little Harry could do other than wait for Buddy to rest.
With a mental sigh, Harry settled in to do just that—wait. Geez, Buddy. Way to put a downer on our awesome race win….
Harry jerked awake some time later, hearing the drone of voices in the background. He blinked groggily, and then snapped fully alert. I can see again! I can hear again!
Buddy was awake! He lay on the back of what appeared to be a small flatbed truck, legs folded beneath him, ears drooping.
Harry found himself staring directly into the face of Redbeard. “Hi,” Harry said.
Redbeard leapt an impressive height for such a big man, spittle flying from his mouth as he spat a colorful string of expletives. “Blimey!” he roared as he regained his composure. “Don’t be doin’ tha’ to people!”
“Doing what?” Harry asked.
Captain Cass was there too, covering her mouth with a hand, though Harry could still see part of her grin around her fingers.
Kitt and Spiner stood to Redbeard’s other side, Spiner wearing his usual impassive expression, and Kitt’s frazzled white fur now shining brown in the sun.
“Doin’ tha’!” Redbeard shouted, gesturing wildly. “Turnin’ into a regular ol’ donkey an’ then blurtin’ out words when we least expect it!”
Harry blinked. “Oh. I’m sorry. I feel asleep while I was waiting for Buddy to wake up.”
Redbeard just stared at him.
“But hey, I won, didn’t I?” Harry jumped to his feet, then winced and laid back down. “I won, I won! Did ya see that? Huh? Did ya see it?”
“Yes, Harry,” Captain Cass replied, still grinning. “We saw.”
“‘Twas one of the funniest damn things I’ve ever seen in me life,” Redbeard supplied. “All those fat arses runnin’ wild round the place, and their riders, too.” He chuckled as his eyes grew unfocused, probably reliving the memory of the race.
“Yes, hilarious,” came Kitt’s dry tone as she stepped closer to the edge of the flatbed. “Now, can we please get our money and get out of here? This place is filthy.” She looked to her dust-coated fur in dismay.
“Soon
as the doc is done with Harold,” Captain Cass said.
Harry cocked his head. “Doc?” He looked around at his surroundings consciously for the first time since waking up. He realized with a start he was no longer at the arena.
Instead, the truck was parked on a narrow street, the pavement partially obscured by small sand drifts here and there, and rows of white buildings on either side.
Tall, skinny trees with tufts of leaves at the top broke the colorless scenery, and crowds of onlookers were gathered in the spaces between the buildings and at either end of the street.
They jostled for better viewpoints and muttered amongst themselves, held at bay by a line of men in white robes. Each robed man held a staff of black wood, with a golden circlet around their brows.
Harry perked up his ears. Who were those people? They looked fancy. And, the pressing crowds heeded their quiet warnings with alarming deference.
“We were … worried about you, Harold,” Captain Cass said, snapping Harry’s attention back to her. “When the race ended and we realized you’d passed out. The crowd was worried about you, too.” She nodded toward the spectators clustered in every open space between buildings and trees. “Turns out you’re pretty popular after winning that race.”
Harry looked back out to the crowds, causing murmurs to sweep across them like ripples on water. He did his best to smile, puffing out his chest.
The murmur grew louder.
“A doctor was summoned,” the captain went on, “and she examined you while you were asleep. She’s inside getting the results of her scans now.” This time she waved toward the nearest building, a short, square edifice with a single door and few windows.
“Oh.” Harry replied. “No need, really. I did my own check-up on Buddy, and he was just tired, that’s all.”
And his feet really hurt. For some reason. He didn’t mention that part yet. He’d figure it out, eventually. No need to report on something he didn’t have all the answers to yet, right?
“Yes, the doctor mentioned something about exhaustion,” Captain Cass said.
Spiner stepped up beside the captain. “The condition the doctor specifically referenced was…”
Harry stopped listening. He was too busy replaying the part of the conversation where the captain had said she was worried about him.
“Yes, that.” The captain rolled her eyes. “Anyway, as soon as we’re done here, we’ll be off to the winner’s ceremony, and a parade, apparently.”
Harry’s attention focused again, and his eyes widened. “Wow! A parade? Just for me?”
“Yes,” Spiner said before the captain could answer. “According to the historical data I’ve been researching, it is customary during the Irrakeen Running of the Donkey to hold a victory parade for the champion donkey. It is also customary for the accompanying festival afterward to last for a full seven days.”
“Wow!” Harry said again.
“But we’re not staying,” Kitt said, then looked to Captain Cass. “Right, Captain?”
“No.” The captain shook her head.
“Aye, arrr, soon as we be collectin’ our prize, we be blastin’ off this sandball!” Redbeard added, then tugged uncomfortably at the crotch of his pants. “I got sand all up in me bits.”
Harry took a cursory check of Buddy’s bits, but it seemed his host’s physiology was better suited to sandy conditions, for his bits were mercifully sand-free.
Before he could say anything further on the matter, a stout woman emerged from the nearest building, a flat, square device in one hand. Her smooth skin was the color of honey, and her black hair shone almost blue in the afternoon sun. She, too, wore white, but not a robe. Instead, a loose-fitting tunic and pants adorned her bustling figure, with colorful scarves wound around her neck that trailed behind her as she approached the captain.
“Ah, here,” the woman said, and Harry could only assume she must be the doctor. Her words were thick with some kind of accent, but one much different than Redbeard’s. “Here, you see? And, here.” She held the device up under the captain’s nose, pointing.
Captain Cass squinted. “What exactly am I looking at?”
“X-rays,” the doctor said. “X-rays of your donkey’s feet. Front feet.” She pointed toward the aforementioned appendages as she spoke.
“Ah, I think I see it now.”
Redbeard, Kitt, and Spiner crowded around the captain to peer at whatever was on the device.
Harry thought about getting up to join them so he could see, too, but his feet were still really sore. Instead, he contented himself by craning his neck as far as he could—which was still not nearly far enough to see anything—and listening intently.
“See this bone here?” the doctor jabbed a finger toward a spot on the screen. “And here? These are bones of donkey’s front feet. They are shifting down.”
She held her flat hand horizontal, then tilted it downward to demonstrate.
Harry jolted and looked down at his front feet. They looked fine to him. But, shifting bones sounded rather scary…
“Wait, what now?” the captain asked.
“Blimey,” Redbeard muttered.
“I believe in Galactic Standard, this condition is called laminitis,” Spiner suggested.
The doctor nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, that is it, precisely. Laminitis. Your donkey has laminitis.”
Harry looked to his feet again. What in the heck was that? Shifting bones and laminitis? Buddy’s heart picked up again, sensing Harry’s agitation.
Oh man, Buddy. Are we in trouble? This sounds serious.
“Sooo … what does that mean?” Captain Cass asked.
The watching crowd had gone deathly silent. A slight breeze cooled Harry’s sweaty hide and rustled the scant leaves high above their heads.
“It means your donkey is truly incredible!” the doctor exclaimed.
She released the device into the captain’s hands and turned to face Buddy, folding her hands before her chest as she gave a deep bow.
Harry watched her in amazement.
“I am in awe of your donkey,” the doctor said as she straightened. “He is truly a worthy beast. Truly a champion of Irrakis!” At these last words she flung her hands up toward the sky, and the robed men watching the spectators did the same.
The crowd itself broke out into raucous cheering.
Harry’s skin prickled at such praise and recognition. For once, he didn’t know what to say.
“Um, okay.” Captain Cass’s voice was nearly lost beneath the cheers.
“Many of our champions end up in a similar state,” the doctor continued as the crowd noise gradually died down again. “This is partly due to our exacting standards for our competitors. But your donkey … your donkey is in advancing stages of laminitis. It is a wonder he could run at all, much less win. As I said, a truly worthy champion.” She gave a bow again, this time to the captain.
Redbeard shifted on his feet, looking profoundly uncomfortable.
“Uh, yes, well of course he is,” Captain Cass said. “That’s us … purveyors of champion donkeys. But, um, what do we need to do about this … lamin-whats-iss? Do we need to treat him?”
The doctor waved a dismissive hand and took her device back from the captain. “Yes, yes, we have treatment. As I said, most of our champions end up this way. Leave it in our hands. We’ll take care of your donkey after the ceremonies, no worries there.”
The captain seemed to relax a bit. “Oh good. Great. So what do we need to do now?”
“Attend the winner’s ceremony!” the doctor exclaimed, throwing up her hands again. “Join the parade. Collect your winnings!”
The crowd erupted into cheers again.
“Well, I like tha sound of tha’ last part,” Redbeard mumbled.
“That’s good,” Captain Cass said, almost yelling to be heard above the onlookers. “Very good!” Her gaze met Harry’s.
He inhaled sharply at her expression. He’d never seen her look quite like that b
efore, at least not when she had been looking at him. Was that actual happiness he saw? Pride?
Harry gulped, and despite the throbbing in his hooves, he clambered to his feet, standing tall on the back of the truck.
The crowd cheered louder.
He turned and dipped his head in a semblance of a bow, and their thunderous applause filled his heart with song.
They went then to the city square, and to Harry’s relief, he was allowed to ride on the back of the truck the whole way. The pirates rode with him, and Harry couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at his lips.
He’d won the race! And, for the first time in a long time, he felt as if he had a tribe.
A burgeoning crowd followed behind the truck, and as they pulled up behind a wooden platform erected at one side of the city square, the swarm of people spread out across the pale flagstones. More people trickled in from the surrounding streets, until they stretched back as far as Harry could see.
The grand marshal of the race awaited them on the stage, beaming down at Harry as he carefully stepped down a ramp extending from the truck. Gingerly, he ascended another ramp, up onto the stage, as the crowd’s cheering surged, echoing among the surrounding buildings.
The pirates followed him up the ramp, arraying themselves behind him as the marshal, bedecked in a sash of gold, green and crimson, stepped up to the podium.
“Citizens of Irrakeen,” he said into a microphone, his words blaring out across the square, “visitors from around the galaxy, I present to you our Champion of the Irrakeen Running of the Donkey!”
The screaming people nearly overwhelmed Buddy’s sensitive ears.
The marshal accepted a large golden trophy from a lean young woman standing to his left. He held it up before the crowd, so that it glinted blindingly in the sunlight. “I now present to the captain of the SS Bray, registered owner of the winning donkey, this trophy, in recognition of your part in the conditioning and training of such a magnificent specimen.”
The grand marshal reached the trophy out toward Captain Cass.
Tight-lipped, she accepted it, but not before glancing down at Harry.
Wait, what does that mean? Conditioning and training? I mean, I guess I practiced … is that what that means?
Starship Ass Complete Omnibus Page 18