Starship Ass Complete Omnibus

by Ethan Freckleton

  The sound of more sneezing drew Harry’s attention, and he saw Zuckberg back out of a shadowy corner. Cobwebs and dust coated his dreadlocked black hair. When his sneezing fit had subsided at last, he trotted out to the center of the room and sat with a huff. “There’s not even a trace of a dog scent here,” he pouted. “What’s the deal? You all promised me a harem!”

  Bieber turned to face the dog and shook his head. “Actually, we did no such thing. Your contract with the pirates of Haven states only that food, shelter, and veterinary care will be provided to you in return for your cooperation.”

  Zuckberg’s featureless face turned toward the engineer. “You read my contract?”

  Bieber nodded. “You are a scientific fascination to me, dog. I was interested in what had persuaded you to join our cause over the Federation’s.”

  Zuckberg’s head tilted for a second, and then his purple tongue rolled out and he panted. “Well, I don’t see any food here, either.”

  “I’m workin’ on it,” Redbeard grumbled, and everyone turned as a loud clatter came from his direction. “Ha! Found it!” he exclaimed. “This ‘ere looks like a replicator, sure enough. Everyone brace yeselves fer some tasty treats!” He pushed a button.

  The device he believed was a replicator hummed to life, building something on its output tray, all right.

  But it was not a tasty treat.

  It was a baby snake. A living baby snake.

  Redbeard shrieked, stumbling over himself as he scrambled to get away. “Oy! Argh! Snake!” He sprinted to the other side of the room and pressed himself against the far wall, pointing back at the snake, his eyes wide beneath his bushy brows. “Snake! Snake!”

  Harry’s mouth dropped open as he stared at the little black snake, which coiled itself on the device tray. That machine must be … he gasped. “Woah. Wow. Is that…? That must be the Overlord’s Anvil, where all of his Creations come from!”

  Bieber straightened from where he’d been bending over the cylindrical metal body. “Hrm?” He turned to look at the Anvil and the baby snake. “Fascinating. That might be handy…” He started toward the Anvil, but then drew up short. “No. No, I must not be distracted.” He pushed up his spectacles on his short snout. “Harry, go help Redbeard with that snake, would you, and give me some space while I work up a design for Node.”

  “Okay, sure!” Harry replied. With Kitt still back on the ship, presumably keeping any curious tribal members from clambering aboard, he supposed it was up to him to keep this area safe and secure. Which seemed like a much preferable line of work to keeping the cargo hold clean.

  Redbeard was still pressed against the wall as Harry approached, but as he got closer, the ginger giant attempted to make the pose look more casual.

  “Don’t be scared,” Harry said. “That’s just a Pantherophis obsoletus. Just a black rat snake. It’s harmless.” He was happy that his knowledge of the animals of Cern, as one of their wardens, had finally been somewhat useful for his pirate friends. Surely if Redbeard knew the snake species, he’d know it wasn’t a dangerous one, and not be so scared. Right?

  Redbeard’s eyes widened, and the corner of one started twitching. “Scared? Scared?” He unloaded a string of curses as Harry did his best not to flinch. “Me?”

  At a loss for words, Harry tried a pirate trick he’d learned from the big man himself. Trying to keep it casual, he leveled Redbeard with an impassive gaze, doing his best to keep his muzzle shut.

  The big pirate’s dark eyes squinted in Harry’s direction, and Redbeard attempted to straighten himself against the wall. “Oy, I’m fierce, got it?” he blustered. “I don’ get scared... Don’t be lookin’ at me like tha’, ‘Arry!” He erupted into a violent sigh and slumped back against the wall. “Well, okay, I might be a wee-bit nervous. Ye should see tha ice snakes back on me homeworld!” The way his eyes widened at the mention of those ice snakes suggested they were a good bit scarier than the baby black snake.

  Harry tried for a serious nod, as if he were the one in charge. “I could set it loose for you. Or try to…” He trailed off as he remembered that he could no longer jump bodies. What would have been a simple solution—getting close enough and sneaking up on the snake, then embedding himself in its spine—no longer seemed so simple. Ugh.

  “Try ta wha’...?” Redbeard prompted, almost looking encouraged. Then he let out a shrill scream, “Ahhh, blimey, it’s comin’ fer us!”

  Harry turned back to look, feeling a brief prickle of alarm.

  The baby snake had fallen off the Anvil’s output tray and was slithering around the floor, aimless.

  “Umm,” Harry started, “I’ll just go see about doing … something.” He took a couple tentative steps forward, wondering, Can snakes be herded and rounded up—like cows? Just as he’d worked up the resolve to try it, the snake disappeared into a narrow gap in the floor and disappeared. “Oh, good. It’s gone.”

  Redbeard gulped. “No way I be sleepin’ ‘ere. Keep yer eyes out! It could get us when arrr guards be down.”

  Harry stepped gingerly around the gap and peered in, but it was too dark to see anything. No telling if the snake was still there or had moved on.

  “Look out, ‘Arry,” Redbeard called in a harsh whisper. “It could jump out an’ bite.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Hello!” someone—or something—boomed from just feet away from Harry, the voice as authoritative and engaging as the sales people in the TV commercials.

  “Woah!” If Harry could have jumped out of his host, he might have. Instead, he leapt backward, hardly noticing how much ground he covered as he landed unsteadily several steps back from the gap in the floor. He pulled his hooves underneath him again and looked around. “Who’s there?”

  He followed the direction of Redbeard’s finger, which was pointed at a large monitor a few paces away from the Anvil, that had up till that point been drab and lifeless. Currently motionless on the screen was a human male with a puffy, pale face framed by short, side-swept blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a big grin. He looked like he was waiting for Harry to say something in return.

  “Uh, hello?” Harry said. “Are you the Overlord?”

  “Hello!” boomed the man again, as if Harry hadn’t asked a question. He came to life, gesturing grandly. “Welcome to the Colonization Starter Kit—your resource for all things related to starting, running, and maintaining your first colony on behalf of the United Federation of Mankind.”

  “Thank you,” Harry said, already wondering if the man was going to give him a chance to talk and ask questions.

  But instead, the man continued to seemingly ignore Harry. “If you’re watching this video, it’s because your planet’s designated Overseer system signaled habitat-readiness, alerting us that we should send a colonization ship to seed your assigned sector of the Galaxy. And here you are, at your destination planet, safe and sound … what a miracle! Sure, our scientists said you could do it—but what do they really know?

  “Speaking of the United Federation of Mankind, we’ve included several Constitutional and procedural references for your eventual participation within the Federation … assuming you survive long enough to care about such things as Galactic Governance, of course!” The man barked out a short laugh, his blue eyes sparkling. “Would you like to learn more about that?”

  Harry started to open his mouth.

  “Oh, but of course you do! By mandate, this next info dump is one-hundred-percent mandatory for all appointed colony leaders. Would you like me to continue?”

  “I—”

  The man laughed again. “What am I saying? Of course you’d like me to continue! It’s not like you have a choice. It’s in the contract you signed, after all!”

  Redbeard, still at the back wall, growled on Harry’s behalf. “Want me ta blast ‘im?”

  Harry glanced back at Redbeard and considered the possibility for a moment. He was, after all, a full-fledged pirate now. Isn’t that what they did? O
n the other hand, he hadn’t been able to catch up on Deep Space Nine reruns in quite some time. With everyone else busy, maybe this was a good time to catch up on some TV, even if it wasn’t the show he really wanted…

  “Right,” boomed the man, before Harry could answer Redbeard. “Let’s begin, shall we? Module One, Galactic Governance. Section One, eligibility requirements for Galactic Supervisor.” The man paused to wink. “We jokingly call this position,” he leaned in and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “the Center-of-the-Galaxy, hah, because who in their right mind has that big of an ego? Supervisor of a whole galaxy!? Hah hah, am I right, or am I right?”

  “Umm,” Harry replied, despite the fact the man clearly wasn’t going to interact with him.

  The man straightened and resumed his announcer voice. “Of course, often times, we find ourselves with more than one qualified candidate. The only qualifications being, of course, that you’re a full-grown citizen of the Federation, have served at least one year of public service, and lastly, have filled out the lengthy registration forms at the Candidate Registration Kiosk.”

  “Blimey, ‘Arry, lemme blast it!” Redbeard stalked forward from the wall, drawing his pistol from his hip and aiming at the monitor. “I can’t stand no more of this idiot’s nonsense!”

  “No, wait!” Harry said, jumping in front of Redbeard. “It’s … it’s kind of interesting. To me.”

  Redbeard paused and peered down at Harry with an expression of pure disbelief. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I mean, TV is fun. Even if it’s just about governing a colony.”

  Redbeard lifted a bushy red eyebrow. “Eh. Well, alrigh’ then. I guess I’ll leave ya to it. But I ain’t listenin’ to this bugger one second more!” He holstered his weapon and turned away from Harry and the monitor, stalking over to study some dormant machinery on the other side of the room.

  Harry, for his part, looked back up to the TV just as a second frame appeared on the screen, showing what appeared to be a squat, circular, golden structure. Lines of human adults, all dressed in grey jumpsuits, stood loosely organized around the object as those at the front of the lines interacted with the console. The camera zoomed in over one of the human’s shoulders, showing a lengthy multiple-choice form.

  “Basic requirements include, of course, the ability to read and write,” narrated the man. “Also, sufficient funds to reach the registration center, which is permanently ensconced on the Earth’s moon.” The image in the second frame changed, showing a blue planet and a smaller, white orb. The camera zoomed in on the white orb, until Harry was looking at the surface, which was dotted with buildings housed within a giant bubble.

  “Pah,” grunted Redbeard from across the room, clearly still listening to the “bugger”. “Permanent, me arse. Tha Effin’ Feds relocated tha’ thing before me Nanna was even born.”

  “Oh,” Harry replied, already starting to feel lost. This was all very interesting, but also confusing. “Where is it now?”

  Redbeard spit on the ground. “Tha’ golden bastard the COG be havin’ it on lock-down at ‘is resort.”

  The narrator, unperturbed by the interruptions, continued with the lecture. “Of course, the odds of anyone who watches this video ever becoming the Galactic Supervisor are extraordinarily slim. It’s not like we’re sending you to this colony with the means of returning.” The man laughed again. “That’s up to you. Our scientists predict it could take our colonies hundreds of years to figure it out. But, hey, you’re welcome to surprise us!”

  Harry took another look around the dusty workshop and reflected upon his own experiences here on Cern. The Overlord had created his people to help tend to the planet and get it ready for the arrival of the Gods. But so far as he knew, they had never come. Well, not until those cargo herders had showed up…

  He wondered if something had gone wrong. Or perhaps their Overlord had fallen asleep? Maybe that’s why no one had heard from it in so very long.

  Maybe Spiner would wake it up?

  Well, whatever had happened with Cern’s Overlord, at least his tribe and their animal wards were generally content and happy. And hopefully Spiner would find whatever he was looking for in the Inner Sanctum.

  In the meantime, Redbeard was rummaging through old machinery, Bieber was working on Node’s remote bot, Zuckberg was sniffing out every nook and cranny and peeing on things, and Harry … well, Harry settled himself in to watch more about this colony governance thing.

  21

  Anasua

  “Acting Rear Admiral,” Doyle began, “I’ve been reading Eilhard’s notes. I understand that you like tea.”

  It’s a lie! But Anasua bit off the retort. How was it that Hawke was still making her life miserable? Seated across the narrow metallic shelf that served as a table in the servant’s quarters, the opulence that inundated the rest of the COG’s golden ship was nowhere to be seen. Defying all logic, a small blue teapot occupied the space between them, flanked by military-issue mugs.

  “You’re brooding,” Doyle remarked. “You see? I’m not the imperceptive dolt that Hawke was.”

  Anasua resisted the urge to grit her teeth. “Yes.” Best not to appear ungrateful for the opportunity, though. “That’s why you’re the Vice Admiral, sir.”

  “Indeed,” he replied. “Would you like me to top you off?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Doyle was a reputed man of action, as he was quick to remind anyone within earshot.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Of course, of course.” He sampled the tea, then frowned at Anasua. “Out with it, Corvus! I don’t have all day, you know.”

  She lifted the mug to her mouth, hoping for sufficient cover to bite her lip. Oh, how she loathed the sweet odor of lavender … how she loathed this entire ship. Well, not the ship itself, but definitely the company. But what to say? Doyle’s fingers were already tapping out a hasty rhythm against his thigh. Honesty with a superior wasn’t exactly the best course for career advancement. Not when it came to anything so personal as one’s feelings.

  “Can’t you drop me off back at Star Station Alpha?” she ventured at last.

  The Vice Admiral’s sharp intake of air almost hurt her ears. “Surely you don’t want to pass on an opportunity to celebrate our victory with our Beloved Leader?”

  “The Navy won’t rebuild itself, sir.”

  Doyle stiffened. Had she pushed too far? “A little advice, Corvus,” he said. “If you want to be more than Acting Rear Admiral, then you need to be seen acting the part. And that includes being at the Grand COG’s side in our moments of greatest triumph. Do you understand?”

  “Oh yes, sir, I understand.” Anasua had to keep careful measure of her tone to keep the sarcasm from leaking through. I understand, all right. Unless she was in charge, no one would ever care what she thought.

  “Good.” Doyle’s eyes narrowed as he sampled another sip of the floral tea. Then, he set the mug down and stood. “I don’t see how you can stand to drink this stuff, Corvus. It tastes like … idleness. Who has time to waste on such pleasantries?”

  With that much, at least, Anasua fully agreed.

  “You’ll attend the ceremonies at the Full Moon Resort, and that’s that.” Doyle didn’t wait around for a reply, leaving her to stew alone in the servant’s quarters.

  Not a moment later, a plain-clothed servant—no, even worse, a furry cat-person—scurried into the room to clear the tea-set, then paused. “Excuse me, ma’am? I can refill that for you, if you like?” The thing’s voice was velvety soft, full of deference, reminding Anasua that she much preferred being addressed that way.

  “Sure, why not?” she replied, idly reconsidering the arrangement on this ship. Really, the only thing wrong with it was the command situation. What if she were the one in charge?

  What if she could be the Center-of-the-Galaxy?

  They’d listen then … they’d all listen.

  It would be a simple thing. Convenient, even. The means to register herself
as a candidate was housed at the Full Moon Resort. In fact, the resort had been built up around it. Past Golden COGs had been bold enough to make the whole thing palatial.

  Want to register as a candidate? First, you’d have to be able to afford the fare to the place. Then, you’d need to pay the resort fee. Then there was that other inconvenient detail … that even daring so much as to approach the golden kiosk was lethal. The very grounds surrounding it were coated with the dust of decomposed bones from those who had been foolish enough to try over the past one-hundred-and-fifty years.

  Still, if the kiosk had counter-measures to prevent people from registering, surely those counter-measures could be circumvented. Couldn’t they?

  Obviously the right person just hadn’t yet come along. Someone intelligent enough and determined enough to get around such obstacles.

  Gripping her tea, she again allowed herself a moment to consider the fantasy.

  What if?

  As the tea cooled with the passing moments, what if slowly transformed into an even more attractive question:

  Why not?

  Why not become Anasua Corvus, Beloved Leader of the United Federation of Mankind?

  22

  Harry

  Eyes fuzzy, brain buzzing from all the videos he’d been watching, Harry felt dazed and a bit light-headed. When was the last time he’d eaten? Food could wait, though. According to the display, he was well on his way to being able to take the certification test for Colony Administrator—whatever that meant. A lot of the information didn’t make much sense, but the blue-eyed guy on the video was cheerful enough, even as he reminded Harry that there would be a quiz.

  A whoosh of air and a mechanical whirring sound announced the return of the captain from the Inner Sanctum. Harry peeled his eyes away from the monitor, hoping he wouldn’t miss anything important. The captain was alone. Was Spiner still inside, speaking with the Overlord?