Starship Ass Complete Omnibus

by Ethan Freckleton

  The private remained silent as Harry busily chatted away, trying to distract himself from the pain. “What’s it like being a Borg—err, Fed? Where do you sleep? Is it comfortable? How’s the food? Where do you go to the bathroom?”

  The private paused in front of a lone door in a long hallway. She reached out and pressed her palm against a black panel. A red light above the panel went dark, then flipped to green. The door slid open and the private waved Harry forward.

  “Woah,” Harry breathed.

  They’d emerged into a large chamber, rivaling the size of the SS Bray’s cargo hold. Planks of what appeared to be wood formed a large ring around a field of pristine, ankle-deep grass, bisected by a line of thick-trunked trees with impressive canopies. You’d like to eat some of that grass, wouldn’t you, Buddy? His host’s stomach rumbled in response. How long had it been since they’d been on real, actual grass?

  Wordlessly, the private took a gentle fistful of his stiff mane and led him deeper inside the chamber, unlatched a gate, and guided him into the middle of the field. She shot a quick glance around, then met Harry’s eyes for the first time since they’d left the docking bay.

  “This is the dog park,” she said. “Stay here. Someone will come to get you.” Before Harry could answer, she turned and fled, leaving him to his own devices.

  “Huh. Well, Buddy, have at it.” Harry released control over his host, and Buddy promptly lowered his head to the ground and began to eat. Harry quickly lost track of time, and let his thoughts carry him off into a daydream. This field reminded him of Cern. He felt a sudden pang of sadness. I miss home. If only someone back home missed him. Exile was a massive bummer. I’m a pirate now, he reminded himself. They’re my tribe now.

  Preoccupied with his thoughts as he was, he didn’t notice when the door to the chamber whooshed open again. Nor was he paying attention as the gate was unlatched.

  A sardonic baritone interrupted his reverie. “McGee, why the fuck is there an ass in my park? It’s eating all the grass and shitting everywhere!”

  “Oh, dear!” came the response.

  “McGee, do something!”

  “I don’t know—”

  “You know what, nevermind. I’ll handle it.”

  Harry shook off his musings and nestled into his host’s spine once more, re-asserting control of the body. He paused in mid-chew and evaluated the damage Buddy had done to the grass. A huge patch of nearly bare dirt was visible in the center of the field. Whoops, how’d you manage to eat all that already? He turned his head in time to see who’d arrived.

  A thick, shaggy, black quadruped of some sort dashed in his direction, a purple tongue hanging loose from his open mouth. He stopped in front of Harry and eyed him quizzically. At least, that’s what Harry assumed he was doing. All Harry could make out on the face was a mouth and black nose. Braided hair covered all the rest of his facial features.

  It spoke. “What kind of dumb ass leaves a dumb ass all alone in a dog park?”

  “Oh!” Harry exclaimed, his thoughts coming faster than he could talk. “You must be a dog. The dog. The talking dog. Wow, wow, wow, wow! Umm, hey—”

  The dog’s head jerked upward, and for a brief moment Harry thought he glimpsed its eyes.

  “Okay,” it said. “You’re clearly a dumb ass, but you’re not dumb. How odd. I’m Zuckberg.”

  “Oh no, I’m not dumb.” Harry straightened and puffed out his chest. “Actually, I’m a space pirate. Well, space pirate intern. But still, you must be pretty impressed, huh?”

  Zuckberg tilted his head, his purple tongue falling out of his mouth again. “Yeah, sure. Very impressive. You have a name?”

  “Oh yeah!” Harry replied. “How could I forget? I’m Harold, but my friends call me Harry.”

  “Harry? As in, Harry Donkey?”

  Harry nodded and attempted a grin.

  A short-haired human in a Federation uniform approached them.

  “McGee,” said the dog, “check this out. It’s a talking donkey. Harry Donkey. You get it? Harry Ass?”

  McGee eyed Harry, then chuckled nervously. “Err, yeah. Hilarious.”

  Zuckberg sat. “Say, Harry. Wanna see something funny?”

  “Sure, I love funny! Hee-haw.”

  “McGee,” Zuckberg said, his tone suddenly stern. “Where’s my ball? Go, fetch!”

  McGee bit his lip and drew in a shallow breath. “What? You’re such a pain in the ass.”

  “McGee,” the dog repeated, his voice now sounding like a warning.

  “Oh, fine.” The Federation officer sighed and turned on his heel, then trotted off to the far side of the field, where there appeared to be some sort of shed.

  “Okay, we don’t have much time,” the dog hissed once the officer was out of earshot. “Try not to be alarmed.”

  “Alarmed?” Harry asked.

  Zuckberg bounded forward, out of his sitting position, and attempted to flank Harry, who kept turning to see what the dog was trying to do.

  “Stay still, would you?” Zuckberg chided.

  Harry paused in his circling. “Okay. Why?” Something wet and soft touched him on his posterior. “Oh … is that your nose? What are you doing back there? Hee-hah, stop it—that tickles!”

  Moments later, a grinning Zuckberg trotted back to his position in front of Harry and resumed a sitting position.

  “What was that for?” Harry asked.

  “Oh, nothing. Just getting to know a bit about you.”

  “By sniffing my … bottom?”

  “Yeah. You can learn a lot from a person’s butthole. For instance, you like watching TV shows. Some silly space opera from a bygone era, by the smell of it. Also, you have an irrational fear of the Borg. And, you want to ride your captain.”

  “What? How do you know—”

  “Hey, don’t be ashamed. I get it,” Zuckberg continued. “I’ve been known to want to ride a bitch or two, myself.”

  “A bitc—,” Harry started to ask.

  “Yeah, a female dog. Also a demeaning term to humans, apparently, but I don’t mean it that way. No disrespect to your captain. Maybe I can sniff her out sometime?”

  “I, uh, don’t think she’d like that very much.”

  “No, I suppose not. Humans are a little sensitive that way. Speaking of, here he comes…”

  McGee returned, carrying a stick tipped with a slot that might be large enough to hold the green, fist-sized ball in his hand.

  “That’s a good boy, McGee,” Zuckberg said, his tail wagging.

  McGee took a slow, deep breath and forced a smile. “Thanks, Zuck. You ready?”

  “Oh, yeah. Harry, watch this!”

  McGee affixed the ball to the end of the stick, reared his arm back, then slung it forward. The ball zipped out and rolled across the field.

  Zuckberg was a black blur, his braided hair flopping wildly against his body as he ran in pursuit. Before the ball could settle, his head dropped to the ground as he ran past its trajectory. A moment later, he skidded to a stop, the green ball in his mouth. He pranced back and dropped it at McGee’s feet, then looked up. “Again.”

  McGee’s eyes grew more and more distant with each round, even as Zuckberg’s tail wagged with more and more vigor. After a few minutes, he paused at the human’s feet, then turned toward Harry and dropped the ball at his front hooves, instead.

  “I’m beat,” Zuckberg said. “You take a turn.”

  “I, uh, I can’t.”

  “Sure you can. You run and pick it up.”

  “It’s not that,” Harry said, and turned his gaze toward McGee. “Do you have a vet here? My hooves are in pain and I need my medicine.”

  “Oh,” Zuckberg said. “Aw, man. That’s too bad.” He, too, turned toward the human. “Uh, McGee?”

  McGee stepped forward and knelt down in front of Harry, peering at the special boots on his front hooves. “Huh. Yeah, that’s a bummer. We do have a veterinarian for Zuckberg, as well as for the assorted pets we have in
the crew quarters. I don’t think anyone has a donkey, though. But he might know what to do.”

  Before Harry could reply, something on McGee’s belt emitted an electronic beep.

  McGee reached down and retrieved the handheld device. “Yes, Corporal McGee here? What is it? Oh … I see, you need me to bring Zuckberg up? Yes, sir.” He tucked the device back onto his belt. “It’s the Rear Admiral, Zuck. He wants to see you.”

  Zuckberg ignored him and laid down on the bare dirt patch.

  “Hey, c’mon, we’ve got orders to go upstairs.”

  Zuckberg laid his head on his front paws. “I’m tired, and I need to crap first. Now, you know I have a thing about humans watching. These things can’t be hurried. Give us a few minutes, would you?”

  “Yeah, fine,” McGee sighed. “I’ll go call the vet. Don’t take too long, okay? Last thing I need is another ‘talking to’ by the Rear Admiral.”

  Zuckberg waited for McGee to step out of the dog park chamber before saying anything. “Rear Admiral. Funny title, don’t you think? Well, no funnier than Harry the Donkey. No offense.”

  Harry decided to take a cue from the dog and lied down on the dirt alongside Zuckberg. “You mean Hawke?”

  “Yeah. You know him?”

  “Sort of. He likes tea and pickles,” Harry confided. “But I’ve never talked to him.”

  “Keep a secret?”

  “Sure.” Harry was curious what he might learn from his new friend.

  “He doesn’t like tea. He only drinks it because he thinks it’ll make his subordinate like him. I don’t know why he bothers. Anybody I’ve ever sniffed out hates his guts.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He’s pretty annoying, though.”

  Harry was enjoying this moment of slow, casual conversation, but time was ticking. He couldn’t stay aboard this Federation ship forever. If he wanted Zuckberg to come with him, he was going to have to convince him quickly. If only he knew what might motivate the dog to join forces with the pirates….

  But Zuckberg solved that problem for him. The dog lifted his head and made a whining noise.

  “What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

  “I wish they’d leave me alone, sometimes. They say I’m special, but I can’t help but feel like the Feds just don’t see me for my whole self. All they care about is my nose.”

  “You are pretty cool,” Harry replied, and meant it. “I wish I had a special ability.”

  “No, you don’t.” Zuckberg shook his head and rolled onto his side, then started to lick himself.

  “Why not?”

  “Because then you’d just be stuck, like me, performing the same boring job over and over again. Every single day. I mean, there’s got to be something more to life than smelling assholes, right?” His purple tongue lapped at his own bottom, then paused. “Say, you’re a pirate, right? You tell me, is there something out there worth living for?”

  Harry felt a thrill of excitement. This is our chance, Buddy! He didn’t even have to lie. “Sure there is. The pirates are my friends. We’re like family.” He paused, thinking back to the tick family that had disowned him. “I’m accepted for who I am. The leader back at Haven, Tone E Robbins, tells me that I’m special. Not just because I can clean up poop in the cargo holds, but because of who I am. I’ve never felt so accepted!”

  “Huh,” Zuckberg replied, then got up onto all fours. “That’s pretty cool. I wish I could be a pirate.”

  The door whooshed open and McGee stepped back inside. Harry was running out of time.

  “I guess I’d better go find a place to crap. Been nice chatting with you, Harry.” Zuckberg stepped up to Harry and licked him on the chin.

  “Wait,” Harry said. “What if I told you that you can be a pirate?”

  “Nah, I’m stuck here.”

  Harry ignored the pain as he pushed himself standing. “No. You’re not. Come with me. Help me get out of here and rescue my friends. We can take you with us!”

  “Really?”

  “Really!”

  “Hush,” Zuckberg whispered as McGee approached. “Hang on.”

  The Federation man stepped up, eyeing the pair curiously. “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah, fine,” Zuckberg replied. “Say, can I have a snack?”

  McGee drew his shoulders back. “Now, look, we really need to—“

  “C’mon, McGee! I’m hungry. If the Rear Admiral wants me, you know it’s going to be to show me off again. Do you really want me distracted and grumpy?”

  “Well, not really…”

  “That’s a good boy. C’mon, let’s go fill my bowl.” Zuckberg turned and trotted slowly toward the shed, looking back every few steps to see if McGee was following.

  “Fine.” McGee eyed Harry. “I called a vet. They should be here in a couple minutes. Sit tight, okay?”

  Harry nodded, wordless, unsure of what Zuckberg might be up to. How in the world were they going to get away from the humans?

  He found out a few moments later.

  Zuckberg ducked into the shed, followed by McGee. A few seconds later, a black form reemerged outside the shed. Nudging the door closed with his snout, he then jumped up and scrabbled with his front paws at the shed’s lock mechanism. Then he dropped down to all fours and loped back to Harry. The sounds of McGee shouting, and pounding against the shed’s door, drifted back across the field.

  Harry peered at the dog quizzically. “What did you do?”

  “What? To McGee? Nothing ... locked him in the shed, is all.”

  “Oh. Won’t he be mad?”

  Zuckberg licked Harry on the chin again. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get on with helping your friends, shall we? Do you think they’ll reward me with a harem?”

  “What’s a harem?” replied Harry, confused.

  “Never mind, I’ll tell you later. We’d better get out of here. McGee’s gonna be pissed.”

  11

  Cass was escorted to Rear Admiral Hawke’s ready room, where the lieutenant made a brief and completely unnecessary introduction, gave a crisp salute, clicked his heels as he about-faced just as crisply, and—with great enthusiasm—departed the room.

  She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t want to be in this room right now, either. Just entertain Hawke long enough for Harry to get the dog. Then you can get out of here.

  Of course, she had no idea how she was going to get out of there. She’d already been a deserter once. Someone would be keeping a closer eye on her, she suspected. It would be a longshot for any of her crew to escape the Feds, let alone with the extraction target, but she’d already placed her bet with her crew.

  Now, it was time to do her part.

  She clasped her hands loosely in front of her and smiled tightly at Rear Admiral Hawke, who stood from behind his desk, arms open to her as if she were a long-lost daughter. Her stomach turned at the gesture.

  Commodore Corvus was also there, Cass was disappointed to see, standing beside Hawke with an expression of barely-contained fury. Cass half-expected the woman to drop dead of an aneurysm right then and there. If she didn’t work on controlling her rage, she was going to blow a gasket for sure. Or an artery.

  Hawke seemed oblivious to the commodore’s ire as he stepped around his desk toward her. “Bambi,” he greeted. The affection dripping from his voice nearly made Cass gag. “I knew you’d return to us!”

  For a brief, horrifying second she thought he might actually hug her. “Sir,” she croaked out, hoping the formality would serve as an impromptu shield. Hawke was not usually one to stray far from Federation etiquette.

  It seemed to have the desired effect. He stopped his advance short of a hug and dropped his arms. Still, that beaming grin remained plastered stupidly across his face. “I am so, so happy to see you. You’ve made the right choice, coming home.”

  She almost winced at the word. Home.

  The Federation had never felt like home. Not by a long shot. But she had to keep up appearance
s. Had to make him believe she’d come here for that reason—to rejoin the ranks of the Federation Navy. She fixed the plastic smile to her face and gave a subtle nod. “Admiral. I appreciate your invitation to return. Truly, it was an unexpected gesture. How could I refuse?”

  “Indeed, indeed. Especially when you consider the very unpleasant alternatives awaiting you, had you not returned.” He sobered. “It would be such a shame to lose an officer with your capabilities, Bambi. I believe I’ve convinced the rest of the Fleet Admirals to see it my way.”

  You believe? Oh great. If he was wrong, she could still be tried for desertion. The punishment for that crime? Lifetime imprisonment ... or worse.

  Standing just out of Hawke’s peripheral view, Commodore Corvus gave a massive roll of her eyes. That bitch could think whatever she wanted about the situation … so long as Rear Admiral Hawke was her superior, she’d be unable to act directly against him. Not while on his own ship, at least.

  Hawke gestured at the nearest chair sitting in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat. Fancy some tea?”

  Cass swallowed hard. If she never had to drink another cup of tea in her life, it would be too soon. But now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. Now was the time to be a good little Federation officer. “Yes, thank you. That would be very nice.”

  “Anasua, would you be a dear and fetch us a tea service for three? I know how much you treasure your tea time.”

  Cass tensed at the look that crossed over the commodore’s face. Anasua appeared on the brink of losing it, right then and there, whether or not Hawke was her superior. Her fists balled at her sides, arms trembling.

  Somehow, she managed to snap off a salute. “Yes, sir,” she strangled out, and then she marched out of the ready room, her glare raking over Cass as she passed.