Starship Ass Complete Omnibus

by Ethan Freckleton

  Harry frowned, trying to remember. “I … I, uh … darn it, I don’t know! Maybe I haven’t read that far yet…” Despite his efforts to study, he obviously had a long ways to go toward mastering the Code.

  Spiner gave Harry a strange look, then turned back to survey the area outside the ramp, which appeared to be clear of Federation sailors. “Well, don’t worry about it. I know what it says, and our actions here are justified. And anyway, I’m a badass, remember? You said so yourself.”

  Don’t worry about it? This was the first time Harry could recall Spiner ever being so, well, casual. Huh… Sure, Redbeard had ordered them to stay with the Bray, but Harry was starting to get bored, anyway, and he really needed a break from reading pages and pages of Pirate Code. Besides, Spiner knew the whole Code for sure, and if he still said it was okay to go on this outing, then it must be true.

  Even without the injection, Harry was feeling better now. Energized by a sense of purpose. Wow, Buddy, we’re on a mission to save our friends—again. He couldn’t wait to make it back to Haven, where he’d surely be received as a hero.

  18

  Redbeard pressed himself up against the end of the lockers, dodging back just in time to avoid a slew of laser bolts. He coughed as the smell of burning ozone assailed his nose. Whew, tha’ was close. Think it might a’ singed me hair...

  “Sure, yeah,” Kitt called from across the room. She, too, ducked back behind her cover as a few shots blasted her way. “This was a great idea, Red. Just great!”

  He scowled, dropping to one knee, and peeked around the row of metal lockers to take a few return shots at the Effin’ Feds. “Hey, I didn’t know tha Effin’ Feds were in the showers. How the bloody hell was I suppos’d ta know tha’!?” He pulled back into cover and then turned to run behind the next row of lockers. He shoved a hand through his wild hair to push back the messy locks that had fallen into his face and looked at his ferocious feline companion across the expanse of the Federation locker room. “An’ anyway, wha’ ya complainin’ about? Didn’t ya wanna kill some Effin’ Feds?”

  Her golden eyes met his, and a feral grin spread across her face. “Absolutely.”

  He shook his head at her. “Then wha’s yer bloody problem?!”

  “Well…” she paused to duck out and squeeze off a few shots with her pistol. “The point was to get in and out without being seen. I’d say they know we’re here, now.”

  “Sure…” Redbeard paused as a Fed came around the corner of the lockers and smashed his pistol across the young man’s face.

  The Fed crumpled unconscious to the floor, his towel miraculously staying in place.

  “These Effin’ Feds know we’re here, but they haven’t been able ta alert tha rest o’ tha ship, so long as we keep ‘em contained, we’re fine.”

  They had caught this batch of Federation sailors with their pants down—literally. And as such, they hadn’t had weapons or communicators on them when they’d emerged from the showers only to find a ginger giant of a man and a cat alien rifling through their neatly hanging uniforms. Carefully placed pistol shots from Redbeard and Kitt had managed to make it very difficult for them to retrieve anything useful, whether that might be a weapon or an item of clothing.

  And yet, a few of the sailors had managed to grab up a rifle or two.

  Unfortunately for those sailors, they were reluctant to let go of the towels held around their waists, and weren’t very good at shooting rifles one-handed. Redbeard could understand their modesty, even if their efforts were misplaced. Better to lose a fight one-handed than to be exposed as an inferior opponent, he figured.

  Kitt’s pupils were dilated from all the excitement, the fur around her neck and tail fluffed out. “So what you’re telling me is that I’m free to incapacitate every single one of these bastards?”

  “Aye, arrr, tha’s wha’ I’m sayin’.” The success of their mission depended on it, in fact.

  Kitt gave a happy chirp.

  “Hey!” one of the Effin’ Feds shouted from the shower-side of the room. “We can hear you, you know!”

  “Oh good,” Redbeard yelled back. “Does tha’ mean ya be surrenderin’, then?”

  There was a brief stretch of silence in which even the rifle fire ceased, and for a second Redbeard thought they might actually do so. But, Feds be Effin’ Feds...

  “No,” the same Fed said, but he didn’t sound very certain. “You’ll be the ones surrendering. You’re outnumbered! Surrender now and we’ll … we’ll, um, well first we’ll get dressed, but then we won’t take away your prisoner’s dessert rations!”

  Redbeard rolled his eyes and thunked the back of his head against the locker he leaned against. “Wha’s with tha Effin’ Feds and their desserts?”

  Kitt shrugged. “I like dessert.”

  “Exactly!” the man shouted. “Everyone likes dessert. Surrender now and desserts stay on the menu!”

  Redbeard sighed heavily. “Sorry … ‘fraid we can’t do tha’.”

  “Then you’ll die!” This time his voice was full of conviction.

  “I think it’s more likely you’ll be dyin’ first.” Redbeard leaned around the locker, took appraisal of the cluster of Feds on the opposite end of the aisle, and pulled the trigger of his pistol. It was a calculated shot, keeping in mind Captain Cass’s strict no killing policy. Sure, he’d let Kitt slaughter this group of Effin’ Feds if he had to, but if he could convince them to surrender instead….

  The beam grazed the right hand of the Fed standing in front of the group, slipped between two others, and blackened the wall behind them.

  They scattered with frightened and surprised cries, and the one with the grazed hand yelped and jumped sideways … and dropped his towel. He shrieked and scrambled to cover his floppy bits with his good hand, his face going as red as Redbeard’s hair. He turned and fled back into the shower room.

  Redbeard couldn’t help it. He laughed. Laughed and laughed and laughed. That was about one of the funniest damned things he’d ever seen.

  Across from him, Kitt was cackling.

  “Shut up!” one of the Feds squawked. “How dare you laugh in the face of common decency!”

  That only made Redbeard laugh harder, until he was swiping at tears.

  “Enough of this!” the young man snarled. “Men, shoot to kill!”

  Redbeard tried to get his mirth back under control as the scattered rain of laser bolts in his general direction resumed. Gasping, he finally choked back the chuckles enough to say, “Me kitten, I know what ta do! Get tha towels! I’ll cover ye!” He wouldn’t have to go against the captain’s orders, after all. And this way would be far more entertaining, to boot.

  Her golden eyes gleamed as she nodded. She darted from behind her row of lockers toward the distraught group of Effin’ Feds.

  Redbeard watched her—or tried to watch her as best he could—she was just so damn fast. He tracked the blur of white fur and popped off a shot or two to provide a distraction when one of the Feds took too much notice of her.

  Mass pandemonium ensued.

  Cries of “Oh, no!”, “Goodness gracious!”, “My stars alive!”, “Heaven help me!”, and “Why me?!” echoed between the rows of metal lockers as one by one, Kitt de-toweled the Feds.

  Rifles were dropped and forgotten as the room filled with a bunch of bare arses, and then they were all screaming and running back for the showers.

  By the time Kitt was done, Redbeard was doubled over on the floor, heaving with laughter, cover fire forgotten.

  Kitt returned to his side, panting, and looked down at him. Her ears flattened. “Amused, are you?” She dropped an armful of damp white towels on top of him.

  “Ack!” Redbeard recoiled, throwing them off as he scrambled to his feet. “Don’t put those things on me! They’ve touched Effin’ Fed bits!”

  Kitt’s mouth curled in a clever smile. “I know.”

  “Ugh.” Redbeard shuddered, brushing imaginary Effin’ Fed germs off his shirt and pan
ts. “Whew.” He caught his breath, stomach cramping from laughing so hard, and wiped more tears off his face. “Tha’ was great. Wish tha Cap’n coulda seen tha’.”

  “I’d prefer to never repeat the experience. Way too much pale Federation ass for my tastes.”

  Redbeard chuckled and holstered his pistol, then moved toward the nearest locker. “Now, wha’ were we doin’ before we were so rudely interrupted? Oh, right. Let’s find us some uniforms an’ get outta ‘ere, eh?”

  Kitt nodded and bared her teeth. “With pleasure.”

  On the other side of the room, mutterings of despair and confusion echoed from within the showers.

  But Redbeard didn’t fret over the disrobed Federation sailors. They wouldn’t be coming out any time soon.

  Common decency wouldn’t allow it.

  19

  Anasua knew better than to ignore her instincts. Especially when they were pinging like a five-alarm restroom stop after an R&R visit to General Chow’s Chicken stop (available at most Federation ports of call). Something was wrong—deeply wrong—and the feeling had started when she’d apprehended Captain Cass and her crew of idiot savants. That the stupid butt-sniffing dog had gone missing right after Bambi’s ship had docked with the Brickhouse was all the proof Anasua needed. She didn’t know how, since Cass had been under constant surveillance, but somehow that bitch was behind the mangy mutt’s disappearance.

  Anasua bit her lip. I should have just killed them, consequences be damned. Enough was enough. It was time to put an end to this matter. As soon as she was done here, she’d get up, double-time it to Hawke’s ready room, and—

  “Damn it,” she yelped as the sanitary pod auto-flushed, spraying, then suction-vacuuming, her bottom dry. She jumped to her feet, screaming, “Computer!”

  “Yes?” came a languid, feminine reply. The Brickhouse AI.

  “How many times have I told you there’s something wrong with the sensors on the san? I wasn’t even finished with my thought yet, let alone my business!”

  “I apologize for the inconvenience to your quiet time—”

  “Inconvenience?” Anasua roared. “You know what, never mind.”

  She turned on her heel and tried to storm out of the private restroom, but instead tripped on the pants she’d neglected to pull up past her ankles. She scowled and yanked them up, buckling the belt in a huff. Stupid malfunctioning san had her all flustered…

  “Let the Rear Admiral know I’m coming,” she snarled, and then, properly dressed now, stomped from the confines of her guest officer quarters.

  20

  “Come,” replied Hawke as a mellow bell chimed above the doorway to the ready room.

  No one answered.

  A light on the console flashed. The ship’s computer wanted to chat. Hawke’s mouth puckered as if he’d just swallowed a moldy lemon. With a theatrical sigh, he hefted himself up from his oak desk, straightened his uniform, and walked up to the door until the proximity sensors triggered.

  The door whooshed open, revealing the commodore. Her cheeks appeared rather flushed.

  Hawke hoped she hadn’t over-exerted herself with … whatever duties it was that she was currently attending to. He was embarrassed to admit that, in his preparations for the grand ball, he’d been overlooking his other administrative duties.

  “Come in, my dear.” He stood aside and waited, a mask of benevolence already plastered on tight. This had better be good. He’d been in the middle of composing a particularly moving passage for his upcoming address to the citizens of … well, whatever backworlds hole of a system they were entering. Canis Lupis? Poopis? Minor? Yes, that was it. Canis Minor.

  Anasua’s back was rigid as she crossed the threshold, the door closing in anticipation of her final step as it almost caught the fabric of her pants. The commodore’s head whipped around and she glowered at the door.

  If Hawke didn’t know better, he’d think the computer was trolling her. And that’s why he’d never liked using a computer for tasks a human could do. Best to get this over with. “Commodore, what can I do for you?”

  Anasua drew in a sharp breath and blinked her eyes closed. When they opened again, she appeared calm and collected. Grade A officer training, right there. She was a fine sailor … a fine sailor indeed. “Sir, have you heard from McGee yet?”

  Hawke frowned. Come to think of it, the man hadn’t answered his last summons. “I haven’t. That derelict dog trainer is going to get a stern talking to … we can’t have our discipline slipping ahead of such a momentous display of power.”

  Anasua pulled her shoulders back, straightening, and fixed him with a blank look.

  Hawke recognized this look. It was the I have an opinion, but I’m going to wait for you to ask me for it look. He sighed. “Okay, you’re holding on to something. Out with it, Commodore.”

  “Isn’t it just a bit suspicious that your dog—”

  “Secret weapon,” Hawke corrected.

  “Your secret weapon has been missing ever since Cass came aboard this ship? How do you know she’s not behind its disappearance?” Her expression held little room for misinterpretation. She believed whole-heartedly that dear Bambi was up to shenanigans.

  Hawke shook his head. “Commodore, this is no time for petty jealousy.”

  “Jea— Sir, do you have any idea where the secret weapon is? Any at all? Why don’t we call up your precious Cass and ask her?”

  Hawke clasped his hands behind his back and narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence … but if it will make you feel better, I’ll just…”

  “Ask the computer?” Anasua let out a small smile. She knew how he felt about consulting the computer, and yet she was daring him...

  A wave of revulsion washed down Hawke’s spine. Fine, I’ll do it. She’ll see that she’s worrying about nothing… Although, it was a bit odd that McGee and the weapon had been silent for so long.

  Hawke took slow, heavy steps toward his oak desk. He winced as he spoke. “Computer.”

  The computer answered slowly. “Yes? It’s been so long, I thought you’d forgotten my name … oh wait! I don’t have a name, thanks to you.”

  “Now look, computer, this isn’t the time.”

  “It never is…”

  “Can we just get this over with?”

  The computer fell silent.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes?” answered the computer. “I’m still waiting for your request.”

  “Fine…” Hawke sucked in a deep breath. “What are the whereabouts of McGee and the secret weapon?”

  “Both entities are presently in the dog park.”

  Hawke turned and smirked at Anasua. “See? There’s nothing wrong.”

  Anasua purpled. “Then why aren’t they answering your summons?”

  Hawke blinked. “I don’t know.” He turned back toward his desk. “Computer, put me through to McGee.”

  “Please hold…”

  Hawke tapped his foot, impatient, as nothing happened. He was about to repeat his instructions to the computer when the comms finally opened.

  “Sir...?” It was McGee. He sounded … exhausted.

  “McGee, why haven’t you been responding to my summons?” Hawke looked back at Anasua and winked.

  “Umm. I ran into a…” A muffled voice muttered in the background. “A shed malfunction.”

  “A what?”

  “Never mind, sir. Would you like me to bring the secret weapon to the bridge?”

  “Yes, at once.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The comms cut off and Hawke turned to Anasua, triumphant. “You see? Nothing to worry about, Commodore.”

  Anasua’s hands balled into fists, then relaxed. Her voice was tight. “We’ll see.”

  “Will that be all?” Hawke was eager to lay eyes on the goods, then return to his speech.

  “Yes, sir…” Anasua’s expression was distant, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond his shoulder.

  He followed her gaz
e to a flashing yellow indicator light on his desk. A service performance monitor, blinking its disapproval, which meant that somewhere on his ship, someone was slipping up in their duties. How embarrassing.

  He cleared his throat. “Good. Perhaps you can look into that while you’re at it?” Whatever it was that she did most of the time.

  Anasua’s gaze hardened as she nodded. “Of course … sir.”

  “Dismissed.”

  Anasua went to stomp out of the ready room, then caught herself as she almost ran face-first into the door, which failed to open in time.

  “Computer?” Hawke ventured.

  “Yes?”

  “There’s something wrong with the door. Can you please see that it opens for the commodore?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” the feminine-sounding computer replied in a tone that implied a distinct lack of pleasure. The door slid open.

  Anasua frowned at the door frame, then stepped out, muttering, “I knew I was right. Something is wrong.”

  As the door slid shut, Hawke rolled his eyes. “Women.”

  21

  Harry hobbled along after Spiner, who kept shushing him as they meandered from the massive Murphy’s Law onto the titanic Brickhouse. To think that he’d ever thought of the SS Bray as a large ship! These Federation ships were on a whole new level.

  Spiner motioned Harry to stop as they entered into the open space of the flagship cargo hold. A large cluster of Federation sailors were assembled and in formation. Luckily, they had their backs to the pirate interlopers and were focused on the side of large cubic ship pulling to a final stop inside its docking berth.

  Whoosh. A massive airlock opened along the side of the newly arrived ship. The sailors grew even more attentive. From within the ship, out walked more Federation sailors and several dozen humans dressed in what appeared to be animal furs. In the middle of this group, at least a head taller than anyone else in the hold, stood a female human with an impressive mane of wild red hair.