Starship Ass Complete Omnibus

by Ethan Freckleton

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Node groaned, his eye winking out of view. “Get on with it, then.”

  13

  Tone E Robbins

  Tone E Robbins ground his teeth as space-time folded around them, and his ship, Unshakeable, jumped away just as the space station formerly known as Haven exploded into pieces behind them.

  His fingers dug into the arms of his plush leather chair as his body seemed to turn inside-out, and in that brief second of supreme discomfort, Tone E acutely felt the weight of everything he had just lost, followed almost immediately by a white-hot rage and burning desire for vengeance against the one who had taken it from him.

  But then they re-entered normal space, and the intense feelings subsided, leaving him with only a heavy melancholy and sense of loss. He swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat—partially from the jump and partially from the anger—and croaked out, “Status report?”

  On his shoulder, Mr. Burton ruffled his feathers indignantly and squawked. “Status report?” the parrot repeated.

  Dr. Bonecrusher, who had taken the XO’s station, punched a few buttons on his screen with force. “We’re in one piece, Big T. No damage taken. Haven has been completely destroyed, though it looks like all our people are reporting having made it off-station safely.”

  Tone E let out a long, slow breath and closed his eyes. “Good.”

  “Bucket!” the big, red-headed Sonia blurted suddenly, clutching at Djerke’s arm, who sat on her lap. “Bucket! Me thinks I’m gonna be sick!”

  In his moment of loss and disorientation, Tone E had almost forgotten about his improvised crew, left sitting at the auxiliary positions to the rear of the bridge. For as long as he’d known Redbeard, he’d had little occasion to ever spend time with his twin sister. According to big ol’ Red, she’d always been content to stay back and live the “good, simple life.” By contrast, Redbeard had always been … unhinged, up for adventure (or violence) at any moment. And then there was the matter of Djerke the traitor…

  Djerke was presently leaping from Sonia’s lap, looking around the bridge wildly as the giant red-headed woman groaned. The rogue had always come across as arrogant, content to lean on his good looks to make his way. It’d take more than a handsome face to keep Redbeard’s sister content, Tone E had no doubt. What could she possibly see in him?

  Tone E frowned, taking in the scene.

  Dr. Bonecrusher gave a grunt. “Jump sickness? Yeah. Get used to it. Looks like you’re just gonna have to use the floor.”

  Then there was the veterinarian. Hopefully, she had some other qualifications as well. Dr. Brenneke swiveled in her chair at the navigation station. “Wilcox, you can’t be serious?! Come on, surely you can find something? Quick!”

  Well, if she could dish it out to the moody Bonecrusher, she might be alright.

  The giant purple monstrosity that was Dr. Bonecrusher softened at her reprimand and grumbled. “Fine. I’ll go look.” He unbuckled his restraining harness and stomped off the bridge.

  Sonia leaned over in her chair, very pale, and took in deep, slow breaths, presumably to keep from blowing chunks all over Tone E’s bridge.

  He hoped Dr. Bonecrusher would be able to find something … and fast.

  “Your stalling tactics worked, Big T,” Dr. Brenneke said softly. “You kept that blustering fool of a Grand COG talking long enough that everyone was able to get away!”

  Tone E pulled his eyes away from the ill Sonia and focused on the blond-haired doctor. “Er … yes. Yes. Thankfully.” The argument may have started as a stalling tactic, sure. But regrettably, Tone E had pretty quickly lost his self-control, in what hadn’t been one of his finest moments. After all, he hadn’t worked that hard to get away from the repugnant, broken Empire of humanity (regardless of whatever it wanted to call itself) just to lose his cool at the first confrontation with the Golden Idiot.

  The self-absorbed and arrogant Grand COG had managed to take the Federation to an all-new low. How had anyone that childish and misinformed ever become leader of the galaxy? He still couldn’t comprehend it … and probably never would.

  But that was water under the bridge now. He needed to concentrate on rebuilding Haven, on regathering his flock…

  “And hiding behind that asteroid,” Dr. Brenneke continued, her face bright with glee, “sir, that was brilliant! It must have looked like your transmission was still coming from the space station. The Grand COG probably thinks he vaporized you!”

  A half-hearted smile tugged at Tone E’s mouth. “I’m sure he does.” The buffoon.

  A breathless Bonecrusher re-entered the bridge at just that moment, carrying a small trash receptacle, which he handed to Sonia.

  “Oy, thanks,” she muttered, and then she promptly buried her head into it and puked.

  Tone E grimaced and turned away from the stomach-turning sight, only to see that Djerke had been slowly inching his way toward the bridge’s exit over the course of his conversation with Dr. Brenneke. He glared at the man. “Hey. Just where do you think you’re going, mister?”

  Djerke startled and attempted to look innocent, though he was doing a fair terrible job at it. “Me? Uh, I wasn’t going anywhere. Was just ... uh, going to make myself useful.” He sat in the chair at the science station. “Was going to … take this station.”

  “Right,” Tone E said, unconvinced.

  Mr. Burton wasn’t either, turns out. The parrot squawked again, turning his head sideways. “Bollocks, me thinks. Bollocks!”

  Dr. Bonecrusher turned to fix Djerke with a menacing glare of his own. “You better watch it, traitor. I’ve eaten bigger men than you for breakfast. Literally. I’ve literally eaten homo-sapien before.”

  Umm, what?

  There was a heartbeat’s pause. “Well, okay. Not homo sapiens. But a species very closely related. And I ate them. For breakfast. Tasted like a good steak. I’m not kidding.”

  Djerke only stared at the huge, purple humanoid.

  Tone E cleared his throat, certain that this conversational dead-end wouldn’t get them far … wherever they might be going. “Doctor, that’s enough, thank you.”

  “Yeah,” Sonia said weakly from her chair, “you … you better not eat … me loove moofin’!” But then she retched and buried her head in the trash can again.

  “We’ll escort Mr. Hoff to the brig for the duration of our journey soon enough,” Tone E assured Dr. Bonecrusher, nodding toward the empty XO’s chair. “But first, we need to figure out where we’re going.”

  Dr. Bonecrusher gave Djerke one more warning look, then marched over and threw himself bodily into the indicated chair.

  Tone E regarded the large man for a moment. The doctor might have to do double-duty as security as well during this trip. Not that Tone E couldn’t handle things himself, of course—he was no stranger to the weight room—but he really did prefer to use words and wits to resolve conflicts these days instead of violence.

  They’d all need to be sure to stay calm enough for the time being, and that was the end of it, as far as Tone E was concerned. At least until they could establish a new Haven and resume Djerke’s trial properly. Until then, justice would have to wait.

  Haven … Damn. It was gone. All gone. Tone E lapsed into brooding silence.

  Dr. Bonecrusher cleared his throat. “Well then.”

  Tone E nodded absently. “Well then.”

  More silence.

  Dr. Bonecrusher shifted in his chair, looking a mite uncomfortable. Tone E’s attempts at teaching the doctor mindful stillness had yet to take hold. “So much for that, eh?”

  So much for stillness. Tone E gazed out the front viewscreen. Haven. That place had been his rock for so long. His anchor. The True North of his internal compass. Gone. Utterly destroyed.

  “Yeah,” he mouthed.

  “Still,” Bonecrusher said, glancing in his direction, “I suppose you’ve got a plan.”

  Tone E lifted an eyebrow. Ah yes, the burdens of leadership. One t
hing he’d learned, over and over. There was little that couldn’t be solved with an air of confidence. Project an aura of having a plan, even if he hadn’t the slightest idea how to proceed at this moment, and everything would turn out all right. Eventually.

  Mr. Burton squawked and shuffled on his shoulder.

  Tone E sighed, remembering the way the kids had run around playing hide and seek among the crates of stolen Federation gear on his space station. And the nighttime entertainment … oh, pirates were the best at that! And their wonderful presentations of Shakespeare in the Park. And movie night. Movie night had always been his favorite.

  And now … now it was all gone.

  Taken by that pompous golden ass.

  His fists clenched on the arms of his command chair. Rage and vengeance bubbled up inside again, coloring the edges of his vision red, his heart pounding in his temples. Calm, where are you?

  Oh, fuck off, replied his inner voice. Calm? You want calm? What right did that golden idiot have to destroy everything you’ve worked so hard to build?

  Years of building a little slice of paradise, all wiped away in an instant.

  Well, that golden bastard had no right, of course. None at all.

  Tone E swallowed hard, forgetting to breathe. If only there was a way he could take something from the Grand COG in return…

  If only he could take everything from that insufferable bastard…

  Wait, implored the inner voice he’d spent decades cultivating, until he could finally trust himself to do something of true benefit for this universe. But that inner voice wasn’t having any of it. This ship is built for infiltration. Maybe you can make use of that. Maybe you—err, I—can find a way to throw a big fat wrench into the Grand COG’s operations. (Good save, inner voice.) Not content to leave it there, his inner voice raged on. Or better yet, take him down once and for all. Yes. Yes! You’ve—I’ve—been trying to live in peace all this time, but he can’t just let us be. Well, we’ll show him what happens when he pokes the bear!

  “Yes,” he muttered aloud, finally, a plan forming in his mind at last. “Yes, we will.” He straightened and glanced about the bridge. No one was looking at him funny. That was good. Deep breaths, Tone E, deep breaths. “I have some ideas...”

  Dr. Bonecrusher grunted in satisfaction and settled back into his chair. “Good. Well then, let’s get on with it!”

  Tone E entered a new set of nav coordinates into the computer from the screen at the side of his chair, sending the rest of his rag-tag crew a sideways glance as he did so. You all aren’t going to like it much, though….

  14

  Harry

  I’m important, I’m important, I’m important! For the first time since his recovery, Harry didn’t think about his prosthetics as he jogged all the way to the bridge, a chorus of metallic and organic echoes ringing from his plodding hooves. The captain wanted him on the bridge for an important matter, just minutes after their escape from the Federation!

  He drew up outside the door to the bridge and attempted to compose himself. This was a serious matter ... whatever it was. He tamped down on the impulse to doubt himself.

  “You’ve got this, Harry,” he muttered aloud. That felt good, so he tried repeating it one more time, louder. “You’ve got this, Harry.”

  “Blimey,” sounded Redbeard from the bridge. “Didja hear, Cap’n? ‘Arry’s got this.”

  “Yes,” came a cool, snappy response. “Harry had better get this onto the bridge.”

  Harry’s ears drooped. Oops. So, he’d failed to notice the bridge door sliding open. Oh well. He tried for cheer and confidence as he crossed the threshold. “Right, here I am!”

  Kitt stared at him from her station, arms folded, gaze impassive.

  Instinctively, he gave her a wide berth as he passed. “Uhh, right…”

  “Get up here, already,” the captain commanded.

  Harry trotted to the center of the bridge, until he stood right in front of Cass and Redbeard. Right, I’m important, he reminded himself, even as he noted their mean-faces were on. That’s when he also noticed a wet nose bumping up against his posterior.

  “Zuckberg,” Captain Cass snapped, “I don’t remember ordering you up here.”

  “Me neither!” Zuckberg exclaimed, sidling up alongside Harry, then sitting on his hind legs. “So, what’s our donkey friend in for?”

  “In for?” Harry glanced around the bridge, reconsidering the situation. Kitt ignored him, as usual. Spiner appeared lost in his own thoughts, staring into a section of wall that contained neither console nor readout. Redbeard’s scowl was impressive, but not generally directed at him. The captain appeared almost distracted, too, come to think of it. So what could he possibly be in for?

  The captain rolled her eyes and let out a sigh, apparently deciding to let Zuckberg stay for the moment. Her gaze returned to Harry. “Do you have any idea what just happened, Harry?”

  A quiz, then? “Umm.” He glanced around; checked out the viewscreen, which was currently blank. “Well, Haven was being attacked by the Federation, so we had to leave in a hurry. Did we escape? I mean, it looks like we’ve escaped...”

  “Yes, we escaped, Harry.”

  “Well, that’s good, right?”

  “Nuthin’ good about it,” Redbeard muttered.

  The captain’s lips pressed together tightly, her fingers tapping the arm of her chair. “Haven’s destroyed, Harry. Our home...” her voice cracked and she paused, then cleared her throat.

  Silence filled the bridge.

  A deep sadness welled in Harry’s chest. His ears drooped even lower and he sat down as well, mimicking Zuckberg. Home. Ever since his tribe had exiled him, he’d been searching for a new place to call home. After his recent successes with Captain Cass’s crew, he’d been looking forward to being welcomed into the pirate tribe on Haven. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Captain Cass nodded, and her hard gaze shifted into something softer.

  “Did anyone … die?” Harry ventured.

  Cass shook her head. “No casualties, thankfully. Everyone managed to make it clear of the station safely.”

  Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

  Redbeard’s teeth ground together. “Effin’ Feds. I’ll strangle the bloody lot of ‘em.”

  “What’s the mission, then?” Harry asked, jumping to his feet and silently hoping he wouldn’t be expected to murder anyone. He still wasn’t much good in a fight, but he also wasn’t convinced, after all their adventures together so far, that most of the Federation troops were, in fact, that bad. Misguided, maybe. He thought back to his own tribe, wondering how things might have turned out differently for him if they’d had a different chief at the time.

  Captain Cass eyed him speculatively. “Right now our job is to follow the Zeta Protocol.”

  Zuckberg’s wagging tail thwapped Harry in the side as he, too, jumped to his feet. “That sounds cool!”

  Harry tried to ignore the tail. I’m important, he reminded himself again. But what did important beings do when they didn’t know exactly what was going on? “Okay, right. Zeta Protocol,” he said agreeably.

  “‘Arry,” Redbeard grunted. “Ye ‘ave no idea what tha’ means, do ye?”

  “Not at all,” Harry replied. Was it that obvious? Oh well…

  Captain Cass’s fingers resumed their tapping, and she shot a skeptical glance at Redbeard. “Neither did you just a few minutes ago, remember?” she muttered.

  Redbeard’s face colored and he shifted in his chair. “Er, yeah, but I—”

  “It means we’ll be staying out of view for a little while,” Cass explained, cutting off Redbeard’s excuses. She glanced back toward Spiner—who was still gazing at the wall—then faced Harry again. “We need to lay low, in case the Federation decides to try to hunt us down. I don’t know if they’ll stop at Haven’s destruction or not…”

  Harry looked around again, wracking his brain for the right thing to say. Being important didn’t see
m to make it any easier to understand what was going on. What was he supposed to do to help? He should know, right?

  Mercifully, the captain let him off the hook. “We’ve been kicking around ideas of where to go to get off the Federation’s radar for a while, until we figure out how they were able to track us down at Haven in the first place.” She glanced sideways at Redbeard. “Some of us disagree with exactly where we should go. I need a tie-breaker.”

  Zuckberg’s tail picked up intensity, thwacking Harry even harder. “Can I vote?” he asked, his tongue hanging out. “You guys owe me, remember?”

  Cass’s eyes narrowed at the dog. “No.”

  “But—”

  “Shut it,” Redbeard warned. “Or we’ll space ya.”

  Zuckberg tilted his head, giving the impression of disbelief despite the fact his facial features were covered in hair. “You wouldn’t,” he said.

  Redbeard leaned forward in his seat, his eyes almost bulging out of his head as he fixed the dog with the scariest mean-face Harry had ever had the displeasure of witnessing.

  The tail stopped. Harry glanced sideways and noticed Zuckberg was frozen in place, his mouth now closed.

  “Harry will be our tie-breaker,” Cass stated.

  “Cool!” Harry exclaimed. So he was important, after all. “What are the choices?”

  “Me thinks,” Redbeard started enthusiastically, “since we ‘ave some money fer once, we should find a pleasure resort off-grid.” He pointed a finger at Zuckberg abruptly. “Dog, don’t even think about openin’ yer mouth.”

  “That sounds fun,” Harry said. He had no idea what a pleasure resort was, but it sounded pretty cool. “What’s the other option?”

  Redbeard grimaced and leaned back in his seat.

  Captain Cass said, “Spiner thinks we should take you home.”

  “Home?” Harry opened and closed his mouth, confused. The SS Bray was his home now. Wherever it went, as far as he was concerned, he was as close to home as he was likely to ever get, especially now that Haven was gone.