Hawke tsk’d, pacing around the confined space of what served as the commons area on Bambi’s former corvette, now deeded to him. “Now, now. This lack of manners simply won’t do.” He paused and looked around. Something was missing. Oh, yes! “McGee! Corporal, where are you?”
A reply came from somewhere beyond the open ramp, “Oy, be right there, sir.” A moment later, McGee poked his head in. “Sorry, sir. Had a bit too much caffeine, if you catch my meaning.”
“Never mind that,” Hawke said, gesturing at the prisoners, who were all tied up. “Did you find their cat? Or anyone else?”
McGee visibly paled. “No, sir.”
If Hawke were a more cynical sort, he might seriously entertain the possibility that the man hadn’t even tried to look. Some claimed that the cat-people, commonly employed for unskilled labor, had a vicious side to them. In his own experiences, he had no reason to accept the veracity of such rumors. Even a dog-handler such as the corporal could surely handle Bambi’s fluffy crew member. What use she possibly had for such a creature was beyond him. The pirates claimed to be above such things as having servants. Pure nonsense.
“Look again,” he ordered. “We can’t afford any loose ends.”
McGee stiffened, then saluted. “Yes, sir.”
Beyond the secret weapon and the cat that always traveled with Bambi and her red-headed brute, he wasn’t quite sure who else might be with them. Previous reports about the crew she kept on-hand were so far-fetched as to be ridiculous. An incapable android. A donkey. A donkey, really! Like the docile creatures roaming the fields outside the ship, along with bovines and other harmless, mindless nothings?
Bambi finally deigned to speak, for the first time since her initial capture. “You’re wasting your time.”
“Perhaps, but one can never be too careful.” He wasn’t able to forget what had happened the last time they’d been together. His ship had spontaneously decided to self-destruct. Of all the improbable things. Could she have somehow been responsible? After he’d accepted her back into the fold … surely, there was such a thing as coincidence. How could she have even pulled off such a thing, anyway? It was beyond improbable.
As he’d learned back in the Academy days, once you eliminated the improbable, whatever remained must then be impossible. The universe was a cruel place, given to an infinite number of random events that happened for no reason at all. There was no reasoning with bad luck. Bad luck, that’s what caused the self-destruction of my flagship and loss of the fleet…
In no way could Hawke fathom that any event of such magnitude could be of his own doing.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he said, pausing to acknowledge the sneering giant of a pirate. “It’s not in your best interest to goad me. Give me the secret weapon, and I’ll be sure to make a note of your cooperation.”
The man let out a distressing laugh as he flexed his beefy digits. “Untie me hands, an’ I’ll be sure n’ show ye a secret weapon.”
Hawke did his best to appear unmoved, holding the big man’s gaze, determined to win any staring contests. He was the one in charge here.
A shout of surprise from outside broke the spell. “Oy, mother zuck—”
“Don’t be talking about my mother!” replied a second voice. “I thought we were friends! Why’d you capture my other friends? Can’t we all just get along? They’re looking to hire a poop scooper, you know.”
Is that...? It was, had to be. “The secret weapon,” breathed Hawke. “Hah!”
Bambi frowned up at him, while the big pirate unleashed a string of curse words.
Hawke let the feeling of triumph wash over him. So what if the pirate wanted to utter profanities? Let him. There was a victory to attend to. He began to march toward the door, then paused in mid-stride.
McGee was backing into the ship, hands held up in the universal sign for ‘oh shit.’ Language, Hawke chided himself, even as he braced himself for whatever—or whoever—was coming through the doorway next.
A black mass surged past the corporal, whose hands were still stiffly up in the air, even with the dog bounding by.
“You’ve come back,” Hawke breathed, hoping McGee was just overreacting.
The dog glanced up at Hawke. He looked different. He was wearing some sort of weaponized harness. “Oh, it’s you. Thought you’d been blown to bits, hah! Too bad...” It didn’t wait for a response, instead moving on to circle around the bound pirates, tail wagging. “This looks fun,” it announced in its droll baritone. “I’m tempted to pee, just on principal.”
The brutish pirate growled in response. “Do it an’ I’ll ring yer neck!”
Bambi rolled her eyes and gazed past McGee expectantly.
Right. Hawke steeled himself, suddenly wishing he’d held onto a weapon instead of stowing it away under his bunk after tying up the prisoners. Hospitality was his preferred approach to such things, after all.
McGee took another step back, stumbling into Hawke.
“Dang it, Corporal, watch your step!” Hawke barked, losing his clammy grip on his composure even as he kept his eyes trained on the entry. Be prepared to act, he thought, ready to inflict violence if it had to come to that.
But no amount of training could have prepared him for what came next, as he found himself staring down the unmistakable twin sights of heavy-duty laser guns, mounted to a … a … donkey?! Not just a donkey, but a donkey armed—and armored—to the teeth. “What the actual fuck?” he blurted, to his own absolute horror.
McGee’s breath caught in his throat, and Hawke felt the corporal’s judging eyes on him. “Sir!” McGee gasped.
Hawke was so distressed, he barely registered the green-skinned android, white-furred cat-being, and squat beaver-man as they all stepped into view behind the warrior donkey. What had he ever done to deserve this improbable run of bad luck?
“Impossible,” he breathed.
“Hi!” exclaimed the donkey, leveling him with an upsetting display of teeth. “I’m Dread Pirate Harry, and you are not my friend.”
26
Tone E Robbins
Even the best laid plans were sometimes waylaid by … well, needing to get gas.
Fortunately, Dillbilly’s General Store was en route to the Grand COG’s favorite resort, Full Moon, and was even rumored to be stocked with the latest and greatest contraband and black market weapons … if you knew how to ask.
And Tone E did know how to ask.
He was pretty sure, anyway.
Plus, the Spaceway fueling station tenants were always up-to-date on the latest Federation gossip, making this little pit-stop a three-way win, really. Tone E could fuel up his ship at competitive rates (driving a starship sure wasn’t cheap these days), stock up on some much-needed kickass weapons for his imminent strike on Full Moon, and get updated on all the most recent Federation news.
If he was lucky, he might even get an update on where his arch-nemesis—that pompous golden asshat, The Grand COG—might be lurking at the moment. As if there was much doubt. The man had a reputation for blowing the Federation budget on non-stop vacationing at his resort.
Thus prepared for a resourceful and efficient stop, Tone E marched through the airlock of his ship and into the long, curving tunnel that would lead him to Dillbilly’s shop itself…
And came face-to-face with the pay terminal.
He scowled and hesitated.
Doctors Bonecrusher and Brenneke came up behind him, followed shortly by Sonia and Djerke. He’d wanted Djerke to stay aboard the ship, safely locked in the brig, but Sonia would have none of it. She’d claimed his trial had not been completed, and so he was not officially a condemned criminal. Not yet. Not ever, if she had her way, as she was more than happy to point out. Repeatedly.
Tone E had been forced to admit she had a point. The trial had indeed been put on hold.
So he’d put her in charge of the traitor. Her honor was at stake if Djerke tried anything else unsavory, and Tone E was quite certain—given
what he knew of her people—that alone would be enough for her to keep the man on a short leash.
And Djerke was, in fact, on a short leash. Literally. Curiously, the collar was black and studded with spikes. He’d thought about asking, but then decided some mysteries were better left unexplored.
Tone E turned to the pair of doctors and nodded toward the pay terminal. “You two take care of fueling up, would you? I’m going to go in to procure some … supplies.”
Dr. Bonecrusher’s bright blue eyes narrowed. “I do not have a good relationship with pay terminals,” he muttered.
“I’m sure we can handle it,” Dr. Brenneke assured.
Tone E’s ego did a momentary flex. Still got it, said that damnably smug inner voice. He covered for the internal struggle by channeling some gratitude. With an exaggerated flourish, he smiled. “I appreciate that. It’s good to have you on my team.”
Not waiting for any further argument from Dr. Bonecrusher, Tone E turned and went quickly through the tunnel. To his dismay, Sonia, with Djerke in tow, was quick on his heels. But he supposed he had no real reason to prevent them from coming along. Sonia did seem to have better manners than her brother, after all—Djerke too, for that matter.
They entered the general store proper to a rush of warm air and the aromas of over-fresh goods, hot dogs and pizza chief among them. Tone E inhaled deeply, the smells reminding him of his carefree youth. Those were the days…
He shook himself before he could get lost down memory lane. Focus, Big T. Focus!
Beside him, Sonia stopped in her tracks, her eyes going wide and mouth falling open at the sight of so much merchandise. “Blimey!” she muttered. “I ain’t never seen so many … things … in one place!”
Djerke only rolled his eyes. If he was sore about being kept on a leash like a disobedient animal, well then, he’d done it to himself.
The drone of screens mounted all around the place added to the ambience. Some were recounting Galactic News, others were playing reruns of Judge Judy the Fifty-Second: (Even More) Lessons on Life and the Law.
“Feel free to look around,” Tone E told her. “Just … be careful. Don’t break anything.”
Sonia gave a grunt. “Wha’ makes ye think I was gonna go around breakin’ things?”
Tone E glanced at her sideways, wondering if he should tell her all the stories about her brother. In the end, he decided against it. They didn’t have that much time, anyway. “Right,” was all he said. “Anyway, I’m going to have a chat with the proprietor. Meet me up front when you’re done looking.”
“Aye, aye,” Sonia said, but she was already walking away, fixated on what looked like ropes of licorice as big as she was, and dragged Djerke along after her.
Tone E headed for the front counter, where a tall, cylindrical, green being stood decked out in a yellow shirt and orange overalls. He had long, thin arms, which he opened in welcome as Tone E approached.
“Welcome, welcome!” the green thing cried, its voice sugary with good, old-fashioned southern hospitality. “Welcome to Dillbilly’s General Store, where you’ll find everythin’ y’all need and even more! I’m Dillbilly, owner and operator of this here station. Tell me, good sir, how can I help you today?”
Tone E put on his best, most charming and charismatic smile. “Well, I’m so glad you asked!” But then he paused, suddenly noticing the poster tacked to the wall behind Dillbilly’s head. It was a WANTED poster.
Of Redbeard.
It had also been obsessively doodled upon, with what appeared to be vehement and violent threats scribbled all around the big pirate’s scowling visage, with big, fat arrows pointing at him. His eyes had been crossed out with thick black marker.
“Errr,” Tone E said.
Dillbilly noticed the direction of his gaze and turned to regard the poster. “Oh, that,” he said. “Yeah, that’s a no-good pirate, it is. Came into my shop awhile back. Damaged a lot of goods, stole some merchandise. I almost had ‘em dead to rights, but he had a donkey with ‘em. A talking donkey.” Dillbilly’s eyes glazed over a bit, as if he were reliving the scene in his head. “I was gonna make that donkey a star…” Then his gaze refocused, and he sighed and shook his head. “Anyway … you ever heard of a talkin’ donkey before?”
Talking donkey? With Redbeard? That must have been Harry! Tone E blinked. “Uh, no, can’t say that I have.”
“Yep, mighty peculiar thing, walked right in here. A talkin’ donkey, and I was gonna make him a star, tell you what.” Dillbilly’s wistful expression turned sour. “But the no-good ass threw it all away. Decided to side with the pirate. Kicked me in my backside, he did. Knocked me out cold and the pirate bastards got away. Can you believe it? Poor ol’ Dillbilly!”
Tone E fought to keep a straight face. Well done, Harry, I knew you were pirate material! “I’m sorry to hear that,” he managed, the smile starting to feel strained.
Dillbilly shrugged his thin shoulders. “Ah well. I filed a report to the authorities and all. They’ll take care of it, I’m sure. But I swear, if I ever see that ginger giant of a pirate again—” he stopped abruptly and gasped, then groped under the counter and pulled out a shotgun.
Tone E ducked away as Dillbilly leveled the weapon, twisting simultaneously to see what the store owner aimed at. It was Sonia! He lurched to his feet and knocked the gun sideways just as Dillbilly fired, obliterating the case of pizza slices on the counter.
“Blimey!” Sonia shrieked, taking cover behind a shelf of dill pickles. Djerke swiftly ducked behind her.
Dillbilly swore, trying to yank the shotgun’s barrel away from Tone E’s iron grip.
But Tone E wouldn’t let go. “That ain’t Redb—er, that ain’t the same pirate!” he grated.
Dillbilly paused in his struggle for control of the gun. “Huh?”
“That isn’t the same pirate,” Tone E said again, calmer now. “She ain’t him.” He nodded toward the poster.
Dillbilly frowned and squinted, leaning forward over the counter to study Sonia from where she peeked out from behind the shelf of pickles.
“Are we under attack?” she shouted out. “I left me bow and arrow on tha ship! All I got is me knife!” She pulled the aforementioned weapon, made of bone and wickedly curved, and brandished it in the air. “But I can do plenty a’ damage wif me knife, aye, jus’ point me at ‘em!”
“Huh,” Dillbilly grunted. “Uh … sorry about that, friend.”
Tone E exhaled quietly and released his hold on the barrel of the gun.
Dillbilly set the shotgun away under the counter and looked at his shattered pizza case morosely. “Oh dear.” He cleared his throat and said, louder, toward Sonia. “My deepest apologies, ma’am. I thought … well, I thought you was someone else.”
“Oh?” Sonia straightened. She tucked the knife away again beneath her layers of fur. “Aye. I get tha’ all tha time. No hard feelin’s.”
Dillbilly breathed a sigh of relief and nodded, then smoothed at the front of his overalls nervously. “Ha, oh good. Good. Now, uh, yes … where were we?”
“I need to purchase some supplies,” Tone E offered, gradually beginning to relax again.
“Oh yes, yes! Very good, sir. So, what is it you’re looking for?”
Tone E started with the general, mundane stuff. The legal stuff. Better to warm Dillbilly up first, let him know how much money they would be spending at his establishment.
And indeed, Dillbilly seemed very pleased at Tone E’s list, pointing him in the direction of engine lubricant, fresh food ration packs, and laser-pistol charge packs with enthusiasm.
Tone E was just about to broach the subject of the less-than-legal items when the door chime sounded, and heavy footfalls stalked into the store. He turned, with some irritation, to see Dr. Bonecrusher enter.
He wasn’t sure if he should be more irritated or less irritated. Depended on whether or not the doctor had already carried out orders, he supposed. “Doctor? I thought I asked you to deal with fueling
up?”
Dr. Bonecrusher froze like a corpse in the vacuum of space, but then blinked and relaxed. “Yes. Uh, yes. I told you, I do not have a good relationship with pay terminals. I left Dr. Brenneke to take care of it.”
Tone E heaved an exasperated sigh. “Fine.” That was probably for the best, anyway. Dr. Bonecrusher did not have a good relationship with devices, overall, it seemed. “Well then … go ahead and grab anything you need. But be careful, would you? No handling any of the electronics.”
Dr. Bonecrusher gave a stoic nod. “Aye, aye, sir.” As he turned and moved off down an aisle, Tone E caught a glimpse of the purple man’s bloodied knuckles and frowned. Well, that couldn’t be good…
But he could ask about it later. Thinking it best to keep the trigger-happy proprietor occupied, Tone E turned back to Dillbilly and flashed another of his charming, white-toothed grins. “Right, so … now down to some real business…”
Dillbilly’s eyes had wandered off to Sonia again, tracking her every move with an intense look of concentration on his face.
Tone E paused, watched the green man for a moment, and then snapped his fingers in front of Dillbilly’s face.
The cylindrical being blinked. “Huh?” Dillbilly focused back on Tone E, his eyes widening as if taking in the big pirate for the first time. “Say, friend, you look mighty familiar, if you don’t mind me sayin’...”
Uh oh. If this proprietor knew about Redbeard, it stood to reason he might know about the pirate leader, at least by reputation. After all, the Federation had been out for his head for years. Whatever bounty they had posted on Redbeard paled in comparison to what Tone E’s capture could net.
Tone E winked. “I get that all the time.”
Dillbilly’s mouth dropped open. “Wait a minute … wait just a tootin’ minute! I know you!”
“Oh?” asked Tone E, preparing himself for rapid violence in the event that shotgun came swinging back up.
“Yeah!” Against all odds, the green fellow appeared to be relaxing instead of getting worked up again. “Why, you’re the Grand COG!”
Starship Ass Complete Omnibus Page 54