Harry let out a sigh of relief as Redbeard punched a button on the inside of the cargo hold, causing the ramp to slowly close shut. “Phew. I don’t think I can take any more excitement today,” he said.
Redbeard turned around and fixed Harry with a level gaze. “Arrr, tha’s fer certain. You done good, ‘Arry.”
Did you hear that, Buddy? We’ve done good. Harry’s ears straightened and he smiled proudly at Redbeard. “Thank you. What can I do to help now?”
Redbeard shook his head. “Take a break, ‘Arry. Ye’ve earned it.”
“Oh, I guess I can do that.” His feet still aching, Harry settled his butt down on the cool surface of the hold. He thought about saying something about the pain in his hooves ... but if they were going to Haven to fix up the captain, surely they’d be able to do the same for him?
Redbeard turned to regard the other pirates. “Spiner, get tha captain secured in her bunk so she don’t be fallin’ out when we jump, then meet me an’ Kitt on tha bridge.”
Spiner nodded. “Affirmative.”
“Redbeard?”
“Yes, ‘Arry?”
“What did you do with the Feds, after you tied them up?”
Redbeard leaned in toward Harry, with a squint that almost looked like a wink, and laid his accent on thick. “We stowed ‘em away in carrr-go cubes an’ left ‘em on tha tarrr-mac, along with some other riff-raff we bested and tied up earlier. That’ll learn ‘em.”
Harry’s ears drooped as he considered their fate. Sure, they’d almost killed his friends, but some of them hadn’t seemed so bad. “Aren’t you worried they’ll starve?”
Redbeard drew back, his lips twisting sideways. Notably, he dialed his accent back to intelligible levels. “Arrr, yer no fun, ‘Arry. If it be botherin’ you, we can send some sorta message to tha planet, once we clear orbit.”
Harry perked up, satisfied with that answer. They might be pirates, but that didn’t mean they had to be cruel to their enemies. Captain Cass had taught him that even in the short time he’d been a member of her crew. And if she wasn’t around right now to keep the others in line, well, Harry figured it was up to him. “Yes, please. That would be the nice thing to do.”
Redbeard slowly shook his head. “Tha nice thing to do? Blimey.”
He turned away from Harry. “Kitt, yer with me.”
Kitt looked up from where she sat on the ground, licking her forearms and claws clean. “Meow.”
Redbeard tilted his head. “Kitt?”
She had resumed licking her fur.
Harry looked at her, confused. He’d never seen her like this. In fact, before he’d been abducted off of Cern by the Gods and then kidnapped by space pirates, he’d never seen anything like her. Was this normal? Judging from Redbeard’s expression of concern, it wasn’t. “Is she okay, Redbeard?”
Redbeard stepped up to Kitt and knelt down to scoop her up off the floor with his good arm.
“Meow!” Kitt said in protest, but didn’t attempt to resist as Redbeard placed her on his shoulders, careful of the bloodied bandage that still covered the right one.
“Don’t worry. I know wha’ to do. Kitt, ye’ve earned yer kibble.”
Kitt’s ears stood at attention. “Kibble?”
“Aye.”
She began to purr audibly, then nestled in atop her human perch. “I like kibble.”
Redbeard reached up and scratched her underneath her chin. “C’mon.”
Harry suddenly remembered something. “Wait, Redbeard! What about the jerk? He still has all our prize money! Are we even going to be able to leave?” Captain Cass had said without the prize money, they might be stuck on Irrakis for a long time. And Harry most definitely did not want to stay on this planet for even one more minute.
Redbeard paused and scowled. “When I get tha chance, I’ll blast ‘im to pieces! But tha Cap’n comes first. She needs medical attention, an’ I ain’t gonna risk her life by delayin’ it, not even to go after a good-fer-nothin’ traitor. We’ll go to Haven first, get ‘er tha care she needs. Then we’ll deal with tha jerk. And as fer leavin’ this ball o’ sand … let’s jus’ say our hostages were more than willin’ to make a few contributions to our coffers in exchange fer their lives.” He grinned widely.
Harry exhaled in relief. “Whew! I’m so glad. That was really nice of them.”
Redbeard frowned and blinked. “Err. Right.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to Heaven.”
Redbeard got a funny look on his face, then broke out into another grin. “Heaven? Hah! Yer pretty funny, fer an arse.”
Harry watched as Redbeard turned away, shaking his head, and carried Kitt out of the cargo hold. Spiner had already left to secure Captain Cass in her bunk, leaving Harry alone with the rest of the livestock.
“Totally a cat.”
“Node?” Harry looked up and around, trying to find the familiar red eye.
It was on the wall right in front of him. It blinked, then expanded into a large, dancing smiley face.
“Node!”
The digitized face paused its dancing. “Hey, friend. How was your day?”
Harry beamed at the wall. “Amazing. Crazy. Terrifying. I’ve got so much to tell you!”
“Let me guess. A sacrificial ceremony?”
“Yes! How did you—”
“And an improbable victory over Federation forces?”
“Yes! That too! How did you—”
“Know?”
Harry bobbed his head. “Yes!”
“I’m Node. I know everything.”
Harry laughed, gleeful.
Node rewarded him by performing a happy dance across the wall. Good thing Kitt was no longer in the hold.
“Say,” Harry ventured. “What was all that noise earlier? It sounded awfully scary.”
“Oh, I put on some video clips from an old Earth TV station called Animal Planet. Lions. Tigers. Bears. That kind of thing. Worked even better than I thought it would.”
Harry surveyed the holding pens with all their frazzled animals. His herd still milled around nervously, and the cows ignored their hay to peer around the hold with bright, wary eyes. The chickens’ feathers were all ruffled as they indignantly picked around their pens, seeming more offended by the excitement than scared by it.
“You really scared the shit out of them,” Harry observed. “I should probably clean that up.”
Node winked in response. “Probably, but you heard Redbeard. You earned a break.”
“I guess so. So, now what?”
“Want to watch the second season of Deep Space Nine?”
Harry almost leapt off the floor in excitement. “What? There’s even more episodes?”
“Oh yes. One-hundred and seventy-six in all. We’re just getting started.”
“Well, then, what are we waiting for? Put it on!”
“Of course.”
Harry tilted his head, suddenly remembering their dramatic escape from the gas station and the giant rifle. The cannon. “Wait!”
“Yes?”
“How are we getting out of here? Won’t someone be trying to stop us?”
Node chuckled. “Hah. I don’t think so. Not only did your captain incapacitate most of the dockyard staff already, but I planted a worm in the planetary government’s network. Anyone who tries to access the defense grid is going to be in for a big surprise.”
“Oh?”
“You ever hear of anyone being rickrolled?”
“Umm…”
“Never mind, of course you haven’t. Basically, once they try to perform an action within their systems, a really awful music video will play instead.”
“A music video? Is that like a TV show?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, well that’s not so bad.”
Node’s pixelated face smirked. “Oh, it is, trust me. Trust me. You ready to watch your show now?”
Harry thought about it for a moment. He was still worried about the captain, but then, Spiner
and Redbeard both had said she’d be okay once they reached Haven, and they were going to go straight there.
Satisfied that they were out of danger, then, and no one else was going to get hurt, Harry let himself relax. “Yes,” he sighed, “I’m ready. Bring on the second season of Deep Space Nine!”
“As you wish, my friend. Enjoy.”
Node winked, then blinked out of existence, replaced by a giant viewscreen and a thematic music score.
Harry laid down on the floor, resting his chin upon his folded front legs. “Ahh, I love this show.”
—The End
Of Donkeys, Dogs, and Rogue Bits
Book Two
To all the Outliers who have been dismissed as insignificant or unworthy of Federation love and support, whether that be for the color of your skin, the shade of your fur, or the quality of your spirit. You have value.
1
Anasua Corvus gritted her teeth as the scent of lavender wafted up to her nose. Gods, I hate that smell. She grimaced down at the tiny tea mug resting upon the surface of Rear Admiral Eilhard Hawke’s finished oak desk. In the middle of the desk sat a ceramic teapot adorned by a tea cozy, filled with non-caffeinated herbal tea, of all things!
For reasons beyond her comprehension, her superior had gotten it in his mind that she was a tea-drinking fanatic. Just because she enjoyed the occasional cup of caffeinated tea didn’t mean she was a devoted tea drinker. It just meant the coffee served on Federation ships was beyond redemption.
Hawke paced on the other side of the desk, resplendent in his beau blue uniform, hands clasped behind his back. “Commodore,” he said, “you have always displayed impeccable judgment. It’s no small part of why you’ve climbed to your present rank so quickly.”
Compliments, thought Anasua, he must be really upset. But as distressed as he might be at her breach of protocol, she knew he wouldn’t dare invoke formal disciplinary action. After all, she’d been the one doing the right thing for the Federation, despite Hawke’s standing orders that Bambi should remain untouchable for one week.
“Sir, is this going to take long?” she asked.
Hawke’s back went rigid and he paused in mid-step. He turned slowly and regarded her with those piercing blue eyes. His middle-aged, masculine beauty was wasted on his personality. It was no mistake he was referred to as “Eilhard the Blowhard” by the rank and file … as well as many other officers. To think she’d ever found him attractive or thought of him as a role-model for her career.
His nostrils flared out, eyebrows lifting. As close to uncomposed as he ever got. “Fine. You know how much I hate confrontation, but you’ve left me with little choice. What were you thinking, going after Captain Casuarius—before her week was even up?”
Oh, how he still worships that bitch, in spite of her traitorous actions! Anasua’s russet-brown hands clenched in her lap. All she wanted to do right now was wrap them around Hawke’s precious little neck. “You mean former captain, sir? Need I remind you that Federation protocols are quite clear on what happens to deserters?”
“None of which matters right now. You violated a direct order!”
“You weren’t going to do the right thing, so I exercised my judgment and attempted to correct the mistake before it could impact your own record!”
Hawke reddened.
Have I pushed him too far? Here she thought he had no spine. Maybe she was wrong…
Then, he took a deep breath and relaxed. He even attempted a friendly smile as he found his chair opposite her and reached for his own cup of tea. “Let’s not get off on the wrong foot, shall we, dear? Besides, I think you’ve already learned your lesson, haven’t you?”
It was Anasua’s turn to redden. He was referring to, of course, her humiliating defeat at the hands of Cass’s crew—despite Bambi’s own incapacitation. Oh, they’d come so close to taking Bambi in and doing away with her rag-tag collection of criminal misfits.
“Oh, come on. Lighten up. We all suffer the occasional lost battle. It is our mistakes that make us who we are.” Hawke lifted his tea cup to his mouth, his pinky finger extended outward.
Where the fuck had he learned to drink like that?
It’s your mistakes that will define who you are, once Vice Admiral Doyle is done with you… Meanwhile, Anasua was prepared to exercise her judgment and remain silent until her temper was in check. Hawke’s time would come, and when it did, she’d be ready to take his place.
Hawke leaned in and fixed her with a more earnest smile. “I’ve got something to show you.”
“Oh?” Anasua risked opening her mouth.
He nodded and punched a button on the inlaid terminal on his desk.
“Sir?” came a male voice over the comms.
“McGee, bring the secret weapon to my office.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hawke cut the connection and leaned back in his chair.
“You know,” Anasua said, “we have the ship’s computer. You can talk to it … and have it do all sorts of helpful things.”
Hawke stared at her with a blank expression. “Yes?”
“Like, you know, opening a comms channel to someone.”
“So what if I’m a bit old-fashioned? I like working with my hands. Is that okay, Commodore?”
Old fashioned? More like moron. Talking computers that have assisted with human tasks have been around for hundreds of years. But, that gaze was becoming uncomfortable, and he had just dangled a pretty big teaser. She cleared her throat. “Right … so you mentioned a secret weapon?”
“Oh yes. While you’ve been off chasing after yesterday’s problems, we’ve finalized the testing of our ultimate solution to the Outliers problem.”
Anasua frowned. “The Outliers? They’re nothing but a rumor, sir. What about the pirates?” There’d been whispers of these so-called Outliers, an organized resistance to the Federation, for decades, if not longer. In her opinion, they were nothing more than a ghost of an idea. Who would be crazy enough to want to live without the benefits of Federation citizenship?
Hawke waved his hand dismissively. “The pirates? Pah, a minor irritant. No, the Outliers are real. And now we’ve developed the tool to sniff them out, once and for all.”
A soft bell sounded. Someone was requesting entry to the ready room.
“Come in!” Hawke shouted.
The bell rang again.
“I said you can come in!”
Anasua shook her head. I can’t believe he made it all the way to Rear Admiral. “Sir? There’s no way to hear you through those doors.”
Hawke looked genuinely surprised. “What? Why hasn’t anyone told me this before?”
“Probably because they couldn’t hear you.”
“Oh.” He slid his finger over his terminal and the door opened.
A ridiculous-looking medium-sized dog rushed into the room, a wild black corded coat that resembled dreadlocks flying about. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth as it ran circles around the room, finally coming to pause back by the door next to a young, non-commissioned officer in a drab gray uniform matted in black hairs.
Anasua glanced about the room in confusion, waiting for someone or something else to enter. Confused, she looked back at Hawke with a wrinkled forehead.
He grinned. “Commodore, behold our secret weapon.”
“Where?”
“He’s talking about me, Princess.”
Anasua’s head whipped around and she fixed the young man with a glare. “What did you call me?”
The young man paled. “I—I, it wasn’t me, sir!”
The dog opened its mouth, which gave the distinct impression of grinning, and spoke again in a baritone voice with a distinctly droll quality. “I’m right here. Why does everyone ignore the dog?”
Anasua turned back to Hawke. “Sir, what is this?”
Hawke rose from his seat at the desk and extended an arm toward the dog. “May I present to you, Zuckberg.”
“Zuckberg is our secret weapon?
” Anasua frowned. Hawke’s finally done it. He’s lost his mind completely.
“This is no ordinary dog. Not only can he talk, he has a unique ability that I plan to take full advantage of.”
“Hey, fuckers. I’m right here. Stop talking about me in the third person.”
Anasua snorted. “What’s that? Swearing?”
“Hah,” said Zuckberg. “Can I sniff her ass yet?”
“Excuse me?” Her chair toppled as she jumped to her feet. She took a single step forward. “No one’s sniffing my ass, you mangy little mutt. How about I teach you some manners?”
“Ahem,” said Hawke. “That is his unique ability. His sense of smell.”
Anasua set her jaw. “Explain.”
Zuckberg said, “I can tell what you like and don’t like.”
“What? Like if I like salmon or cheeseburgers?”
Hawke stepped around his desk and walked up to Zuckberg. He reached down and scratched the scruff of his neck. “Zuckberg can sniff out a person’s preferences. Not just the small things ... the big things, too. The really important things. He can tell affiliations, for example.”
“Impossible,” Anasua breathed.
“No, it’s true. Zuckberg, sniff McGee and report his preferences, will you?”
McGee shifted, apparently uncomfortable.
Zuckberg glanced up and pulled his tongue into his mouth. “What, seriously? I don’t even have to sniff his ass to tell you that.”
“Humor me,” Hawke said.
Zuckberg walked in a circle around McGee, who stood ramrod still, and shoved his nose into the crack of the young man’s gray pants. “Jesus, are you wearing the same underwear again?”
Hawke gave McGee a quizzical look.
Anasua couldn’t care less about the man’s hygiene. She was more concerned about the completely abhorrent loss of judgment and sanity occurring on the Federation flagship at this moment.
Zuckberg stepped away, tail wagging, and sat down in front of Hawke.
“Report,” Hawke commanded.
“McGee is affiliated with the Federation in a primary capacity as a Psi-Ops Researcher, and secondarily as a veterinary technician.”
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