Starship Ass Complete Omnibus

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Starship Ass Complete Omnibus Page 55

by Ethan Freckleton


  Tone E cringed and hoped no one else had heard Dillbilly just say that...

  Sonia’s voice sounded from the back of the store. “Did ye hear tha’, loove moofin?”

  “What was that, dear?” replied a muffled voice. “You should probably pull my head out from your chest, if you want to chat.”

  Tone E sighed. Well, so much for that hope. Best to mitigate the situation before it got any worse. He leaned forward, across the counter, and whispered. “Shhh. It’s supposed to be a secret.”

  Dillbilly’s brow lifted and his mouth formed a big ‘O.’ “Oh, sure,” he whispered back. “Your secret is safe with me, friend!”

  “Anyway,” Tone E said, “I’m just a former Grand COG. Happily retired. Now, I’m just a simple, law-abiding galactic citizen, looking for a few illicit goods, if you get my meaning.”

  “Right…” the proprietor nodded, sharing a conspiratorial smile. “Retired or no, I always liked you. Those were the good ol’ days, I tell you what. Federation hasn’t been the same since you left. Point of fact, that’s why I set up shop out here in the asteroids! Feds don’t bother me much.”

  “That’s good,” Tone E said. “Nice and quiet, I imagine.”

  “Oh yes!” Dillbilly nodded vigorously, then lowered his voice again. “But honestly, I wish you’d come back, if you don’t mind me sayin’ it.”

  Tone E favored the green fellow with an appreciative smile. But even if he’d wanted to return to the Federation, he couldn’t. Not without a lot of firepower. He was a wanted man. And to resume his former position as Grand COG? That ship had sailed, as far as Tone E was concerned. As crazy an idea as it had been to start up a pirate colony, it was sheer madness to even consider mounting an official campaign to replace the current golden buffoon at this point.

  “Can’t see that happening,” Tone E replied at last, to Dillbilly’s obvious disappointment.

  Dr. Bonecrusher had wandered back around to the front, still nursing his bloodied fist. “Shame about that damned kiosk,” he muttered, “broken piece of crap!”

  Tone E shot him a sharp warning glance, brows lifted.

  “Err, I’m talking about the golden kiosk, of course,” Bonecrusher amended. “The Candidate Registration Kiosk.” He paused and took in the growing frown leveled in his direction. “Right, I’ll just be over in the cafeteria area, watching the news...”

  Tone E watched the big doctor move off and rolled his eyes. Nope, in the absence of a proper democracy, the pirate life was cleaner, more honest work than what passed for governance in the Federation. Plus, as a pirate leader, he didn’t have to deal with all the red tape. Not to mention the overly repressed, dysfunctional culture. He’d done what he could to try to change it from within, but despite his best efforts, he’d come up well short.

  Now … it was time to blow things up.

  Tone E nodded, then recomposed himself before shifting his attention back to Dillbilly. “So, if I wanted to, hypothetically—you understand—storm a colony, what might you have for me?”

  Dillbilly’s grin came off as more than a little unhinged. “For you? Glad you asked! Might have just the thing.” He cackled. “Oh, yes—just the thing!”

  27

  Harry

  “Is this strictly necessary?” whispered Cass to a beaming Redbeard.

  “Wha’? Of course. Very necessary,” he replied, winking at Harry. “Can’t be passin’ up a dinner in ‘Arry’s honor, can we?”

  The captain rolled her eyes. “It’s not strictly in Harry’s honor, though, is it?”

  “Oy, this whole ‘gods’ thing was yer idea, Cap’n.” Again, another wink. “Righ’?”

  Harry glanced around, making sure they were still outside of earshot of the Elder Council, who had wandered off to prospect for the appropriate sacrifice. To be honest, Harry was more than a little bit horrified by the whole idea, not least because of his prior experiences with sacrificial ceremonies. It wouldn’t take much stretch of the imagination to picture his host, Buddy, as the main course.

  “I suppose so,” Harry said, feeling much less enthusiasm than he had been earlier in the day, when he’d had an arsenal of laser weapons strapped to his shoulders in his joint-rescue of the captain and Redbeard. The elation at having been useful—even potentially deadly, in a serious pirate matter—was quickly fading.

  “Thar we have it, Cap’n, straight from tha Chosen o’ tha Gods!” Redbeard clapped his hands together and stood up. “Now where’s me Kitt?”

  “Meow,” came her response from beneath the shade of the Girlboss, where she’d been inspecting it for damage.

  “Ye be wantin’ some dinner, too, righ’?” Redbeard asked, striding over, in the best spirits Harry had seen in some time.

  Kitt peered out from an open panel on the side of the ship, goggles on over her eyes. “Fresh meat? I’m in.”

  Fresh meat. Harry sighed. The idea of his crew being treated as Gods—and him as their Chosen—had been all fun and games. Up until the Council had offered to sacrifice any ward of their choosing.

  Redbeard’s vote had gone for a cow. A horrified Bieber hadn’t had an alternative suggestion, other than to mention the replicators on the ship. Cass had been indifferent, and Kitt had been, well, open for anything that moved. A sniff from Zuckberg, followed by an angry swat across his nose, had confirmed the veracity of Kitt’s preference. Spiner? Well, Spiner wasn’t planning to eat.

  “Can we at least figure out a way to cook whatever they’re going to give us?” Cass asked.

  “Cook?” asked Harry.

  Cass nodded. “With fire.”

  Huh, how would that work? Harry had only seen the pirates eat food from the replicators. He couldn’t imagine how fire would help anything.

  Only, it was worse than Harry could have imagined.

  Way worse.

  #

  He could smell the flesh of the poor cow, now well past deceased, as it roasted over a fire pit that Redbeard had assembled from salvaged boulders and twigs.

  A cow. Could it have been some sort of cruel joke by the Elder Council? A way to remind him of his failings, Chosen of the Gods or no? Judging from the wicked expression on Steve’s mole face, Harry wouldn’t put it past them. If so, it wasn’t nice. At all.

  Meanwhile, Zuckberg’s thumping tail kept catching Harry in the side.

  The pirates sat around one side of the fire, while the Elder Council huddled downwind of the flames. Seated between the two groups, bound together with the same rope that had previously been used to tie Captain Cass and Redbeard, were a sour-faced Hawke and salivating McGee.

  Grandma Ambly shifted uncomfortably, possibly from the scent of charred flesh. “So,” she remarked to her neighbors, “this is how the Gods eat. The Overlord taught that the Gods value their cows. Consider them sacred.”

  Betty echoed, “The Gods! They have returned and requested the sacred cow!”

  One of Grandma Ambly’s rear legs twitched, and Harry could tell she yearned to use it on the enthusiastic goat.

  The mole, Steve, wrinkled his nose. “This … what do you call this? Roasting? Who does this to food?”

  “The Gods, you dolt,” bleated Betty from her goat host. “And together with the Gods, we shall eat the flesh of the earth, as foretold in the—”

  Grandma Ambly cut her off. “Yes, yes, as foretold in the Prophecy of the First.” She turned her attention to the pirates—specifically Spiner, who sat motionless in the evening breeze. “What of The Word? Did you hear from the Overlord?”

  Spiner lifted his head and regarded her with blank eyes. “Yes.”

  “And?” Grandma Ambly, Harry could tell, was struggling to find her patience. Never her strong suit, as he recalled from his childhood.

  Betty bleated again. “Can’t you tell? The Word is not for us to hear tonight. If the Green-skinned God wanted to share, he would!”

  “A’righ’!” Redbeard bellowed, returning to the fire with a fresh bundle of branches. “Who be read
y fer some proper red meat?”

  “Yay!” exclaimed Zuckberg. “I’ll eat anything!” He shared a lopsided tongue-lolling grin with the Elder Council. “This whole place is great … even without a harem.”

  Bieber shuddered, hugging himself. “Pass.”

  “Can I have some?” asked Zuckberg’s former handler, the one named McGee.

  “Hush, you!” Redbeard reprimanded, glowering at their prisoners. Then he rounded on Hawke. “An’ don’ even think of openin’ tha’ mouth!”

  The Federation officer’s shoulders sagged.

  “Can’t we all be friends?” Harry asked, earning himself an assortment of looks from the gathered company, ranging from optimistic—McGee—to confused, to indifferent … to livid.

  Redbeard scowled. “Friends, ‘Arry? C’mon, they’re tha Effin’ Feds!”

  “But…” McGee tried again, “c’mon, Zuck. Didn’t I always take good care of you? I thought we were pals…”

  Zuckberg looked over the fire at his former handler. His head tilted sideways, his ears perked up beneath the weight of all the dreadlocked hair. “Yeah, well, being in the Federation was boring, man. All I did was sniff asses, day in and day out. Being a pirate is way more fun. I get to sniff all kinds of stuff, not just asses. And the asses I do sniff are at least all different!”

  “Hey,” Captain Cass cut into their conversation, stepping in front of McGee to tower over him. She pointed two fingers at him, then at her own eyes. “I’m the captain of this crew, understand? You want to talk, you talk to me. Don’t talk to my crew unless I say you can, got it?”

  McGee looked up at her for a moment, then sighed and nodded.

  “So?” she prompted. “Anything to say?”

  McGee shifted in his bonds. “Well … could I please have some of that steak? It smells so good.”

  “No. But be a good boy and I’ll think about it for later.”

  McGee slumped.

  Hawke cleared his throat. “I have something to s—“

  “Not you,” the captain snapped. “You keep quiet.”

  Hawke looked crestfallen.

  Kitt mewled, clearly annoyed. “Can we eat now?”

  A few minutes later, everyone had a portion of charred meat at their feet, courtesy of Redbeard. As the big pirate settled down next to Cass, he took a sniff at the large, sinewy leg of meat in his hand.

  “Know wha’ this needs?” he asked, then answered his own question. “Barbeque sauce.”

  Kitt pinned her strip of flesh to the ground, and used her teeth to peel off a precise mouthful. A moment later, she let out a contented purr. “Speak for yourself. This is purrfect.”

  Harry stared down at his piece of meat. His stomach squirmed with discomfort. “Umm…”

  Already having chowed down his portion, Zuckberg’s muzzle was practically touching Harry’s food. “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it!”

  “Go for it,” Harry replied, deciding it would be best if he stuck with the strict diet prescribed by Dr. Brenneke.

  Zuckberg was already swallowing it down before the words had finished tumbling out.

  Looking across the fire, he could tell the Elder Council were also reluctant to eat the charred meat. Well, except for the rooster, whoever that was … it was ripping into the flesh with its beak and making a mess of it, too.

  “Eww,” complained Steve.

  “Tell me of this barbeque sauce,” asked Betty. “Is this another of the Gods’ wonders?”

  Redbeard nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, aye, it be one of arrr greatest inventions!”

  Betty’s eyes shone. “Then someday I should be honored if you would allow me to behold this barbeque sauce!”

  Redbeard shrugged, fully focused on his slab of charred meat. “Aye, arrrr, sure, someday. Why not?”

  Betty bleated again and bounded around in a happy circle, kicking up her heels. She came down from one leap and ended up running smack into the bound Hawke and McGee.

  McGee grunted, and Hawke tried to recoil away from the goat, his eyes wide with disgust, but Redbeard had tied him tightly and he hardly moved.

  Betty paused her celebrating and turned her attention to the captives, nuzzling up alongside them. “Why have they tied you?” She sniffed at Hawke’s face. “Are you a bad God? We have heard tales of such evil Gods…”

  “No!” Hawke insisted. “No, I’m not evil! I’m … I’m a, uh…” His gaze flickered around the circle of Elders and pirates, as if checking to see if anyone would refute his claim. Currently, Redbeard, Captain Cass, and Kitt were all staring hard at him, indeed. He dropped his eyes and swallowed visibly. “I’m a good God,” he mumbled.

  Captain Cass snorted and shook her head. “Oh, that’s rich.”

  “Good God,” Betty repeated with a nod. “Good God.”

  “Good God,” the other tribal elders muttered. “Good God. Good God.”

  Harry eyed the Federation man skeptically. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of him quite yet. On the one hoof, he’d captured the captain and Redbeard just earlier today and tied them up. That didn’t seem very nice of him. But on the other hoof, he had allowed the pirates to have regular snacks and meals—including dessert—when they’d been prisoners aboard his ship, and he had invited them to a very nice dinner party….

  Steve the mole did not join in on the chant, but instead waddled his way toward the center of the circle. But not too much toward the center, because he didn’t want to get too close to the fire. He focused his beady black eyes on Hawke. “Oh really? And why would they tie up a good God?”

  Redbeard grunted. “Because he ain’t no good God, no siree. Don’t let ‘em fool ye. He’s done lots o’ naughty things in his past, he has.”

  Hawke’s face reddened, but he kept his gaze locked on the grass he sat on, his expression a mix between anger and confusion.

  Harry almost felt bad for him, but then, he was still too busy feeling sorry for himself.

  #

  After everyone who was not horrified by the sight of charred meat (and except for Hawke and McGee also, of course) had eaten their fill, the Elder Council bid their goodbyes to the Gods and took their leave for the night, bowing repeatedly as they did so.

  Redbeard watched them go with an amused expression, then poured water over the fire’s embers and settled himself back on the grass with a contented sigh. He folded his hands beneath his head and seemed to be watching the clouds drift by in the sky above.

  Cass stood from her seat on a stump and stretched. “Well, I have to admit, that was quite good.”

  Redbeard only grunted in agreement.

  Kitt was still licking clean a bone. She made a purring chirp, presumably also in agreement.

  Bieber had wandered off some time ago and was currently poking and prodding at the underside of the Girlboss, which rested only about twenty yards from where they’d had their camp-out meal.

  Spiner sat on another stump, much the same as Cass had been, but he’d mostly been staring out into the distance in the direction of the Overlord’s compound, and had hardly spoken at all.

  Zuckberg voiced no opinion over the meal, as he was already asleep, curled up in a matted black ball of hair not far from the fire pit. He was snoring softly. And in the resulting quiet, also farted loudly.

  Cass’s expression turned from contentment to disgust. She sighed heavily. “Why do I always get stuck with the flatulent ones?”

  Harry twitched an ear. He wondered what ‘flatulent’ meant.

  “I’m going to go check on the Girlboss,” Cass said, waving away the stench of dog fart. “Make sure these fools didn’t screw anything up.” She tossed a glare to Hawke and McGee.

  Hawke seemed to think that was his chance to speak up again. “Bambi,” he said, “I assure you, we took great care of—”

  “Shut it,” she snapped. “I don’t want to hear your voice right now, understand?”

  Hawke looked quite offended. “But … Bambi, I don’t understand. You always
were such a good—”

  “Oy!” Redbeard said, surging up sitting and reaching out to cuff Hawke upside the head. “She said be quiet, ya lout!”

  Hawke hunched his shoulders defensively and hunkered down against McGee’s side, his always-perfectly-styled hair now disheveled.

  “Yes,” Cass hissed, “be quiet. And I swear, if I hear you call me Bambi one more time, I’m going to duct tape your mouth shut. Got it?”

  Harry watched the exchange with interest. He definitely felt bad for the Federation man now. It was really no fun to have Captain Cass mad at you. Harry most certainly did not ever want her to talk that way to him. Her angry voice and mean-face were truly terrifying.

  Hawke’s eyes were wide as he stared up at her, but he only nodded silently.

  “Good,” Cass said. Then she turned and stalked away, a little extra whir to her step as she marched up the Girlboss’s open ramp with her mechanical leggings.

  Redbeard glared at Hawke a moment longer. “I’ll be watchin’ ye,” the big pirate growled, but then he laid back in the grass again and returned his attention to the clouds.

  “As will I,” said Kitt, who had stalked behind the prisoners to address them within inches of the backs of their heads, which had the effect of generating startled yelps from each of them in turn. She smiled that predatory smile at them, the one that made Harry’s skin prickle, and unsheathed her long, hooked claws. Then, she began to calmly and studiously clean them with her tongue.

  Hawke and McGee paled noticeably, even in the fading light of the setting sun.

  Under Kitt’s careful watch, the Federation captives fell motionless and silent.

  As the darkening sky began to cycle through a pleasing array of colors, Harry had to admit there was a serenity to this place that had been lacking in all the places he’d visited since his abduction. In the quiet, he let Buddy graze for his own dinner (since the meat was not to either of their tastes).

  Now that the horror (and shame) of the sacrificial cow was over—with the ticks and their wards out and about roaming the fields of Cern, his pirate crew safe, their Federation prisoners under control, and a soft breeze blowing pink and lavender clouds across the sky—Harry was feeling more relaxed and at home than he had in a long, long while.

 

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