Starship Ass Complete Omnibus

by Ethan Freckleton

  But she knew better, even with the drink humming in her system, churning her carefully-crafted self-control into something dangerously amorphous. It wasn’t gravel that ringed the area … it was ash. The ash of long-decomposed human bones.

  Even still, the thread of the thought she’d had while sitting in the servants’ quarters on the Grand COG’s ship, nursing a cup of that horrid lavender tea, came back to her.

  Why not Anasua Corvus, Grand Center-of-the-Galaxy, Beloved Leader of the United Federation of Mankind?

  “I think,” she said, to no one in particular, “I’m going to get some fresh air.”

  #

  Fresh air had definitely been in order, before she said something she regretted. But moreover, it wouldn’t hurt to do a little scouting around and get some in-person perspective on the broken relic of Federation democracy. Was there a way to get closer? Without being turned into ash?

  The few people out and about in the courtyard stayed well clear of the dusty piles littered around the golden structure. It seemed the counter-measures were still well in place, then. Hrmm.

  Anasua couldn’t rightly tell what time it was, but the dome outside had started filtering out the harsh sunlight. The overall effect reminded her of being in a smog-filled industrial swamp … at mid-evening. It was hard to imagine anyone actually enjoyed this kind of thing, but as she glanced around, she saw several underclad retirees winding their way back from the salt baths. If not for the skimpy towels around their waists, why, they’d be naked.

  Hardly model Federation citizens. And yet, these resort-goers were amongst the most elite of the elite citizens. It wouldn’t be surprising if one or more sat on the Council of Concerned Citizens.

  Anasua huffed and tugged irritably at the shirt of her uniform, soaked with perspiration almost as soon as she’d set foot outside. Circles quickly expanded from beneath her armpits into full-blown tropical ecosystems. What a miserable place. Who in their right mind would build a resort on a planet like this?

  An old man skipped by down the path, ignoring her as he passed by. She couldn’t help but notice that his towel was slipping. Full Moon, indeed. Where was the modesty? Where was the dignity? Where was the class the Federation espoused?

  “I don’t suppose this would be a good time to crack a joke,” remarked a mezzo-soprano, the voice projecting from just behind her shoulder.

  Anasua whipped around and locked eyes with a lithe, middle-aged blonde in a here-today, gone-tomorrow piece of skimpy lounge-wear that did nothing to hide her sculpted abs.

  “Careful who you go sneaking up on,” Anasua said by way of reply, feeling unsettled by how close the woman had gotten without her notice. And it wasn’t just the proximity that bothered her. The woman bore an uncanny resemblance to one of her childhood heroes. But that was impossible … this woman was clearly no older than Anasua herself.

  The woman shrugged and tilted a curious smile at the uniform. “Aren’t you hot?”

  “Of course I am,” Anasua replied, not even bothering for civility.

  “Well then, why don’t you get more comfortable? It’s clothing optional, you know.” The woman had the gall to wink.

  Anasua tried on an experimental glare, not having to try too hard. “That would be unfitting for someone of my rank.”

  The woman let out a throaty chuckle, further raising Anasua’s hackles—and not just because she was being mocked. This person laughed just like her hero, too. But it couldn’t be.

  “Come now, Acting Rear Admiral,” the woman teased.

  “How do you know who I am?”

  “Because, silly, I’m your best friend in this whole universe.” The blonde giggled and flipped her hair back over her shoulder.

  “No, you can’t be. I … I don’t even know you.”

  The strange yet familiar woman fixed Anasua with a coy smile. “You do too. I can see it on your face. You know exactly who I am.”

  “But…” Anasua swallowed. “But you’re not even a real person.” She paused and reconsidered her choice of words. “Well, okay, I guess you could be an actress.”

  The woman snorted. “Oh please. I’m no actress. I’m the real thing, girl. Well, as real as I can be, anyway.”

  Anasua gulped, only partly for air. She didn’t understand how any of this made sense, but the answer formed on her lips, regardless. “You … you’re … Barbie Rogers, Space Cadet?”

  “See,” replied Barbie, holding out her hands. “You do know! The reason you joined the Federation Navy. Your role model. Your best friend in the sky!”

  “But—”

  “I’m imaginary?” Barbie asked.

  “Well, yes…”

  Barbie rolled her eyes and waved a hand around in the air. “Since when has that ever stopped anyone?”

  Anasua frowned and blinked. As far as she knew, being imaginary was certainly a rather large obstacle to getting anything done. Of course, Anasua herself was very much real, and she’d still had a hell of a time getting anything done. She’d fought and clawed for every rung of the ladder she’d climbed through the ranks of the Federation, only to be blocked or set back time and time again by the incompetent fools who outranked her.

  Barbie sidled up closer to Anasua and let her gaze settle on the COG’s honor guard. “See those poor miserable saps in their golden armor? They must be baking in there, keeping the Center-of-the-Galaxy safe from all threats, imagined or otherwise.”

  Anasua looked at the guards, posted two to each entrance in the courtyard, and was hard-pressed to disagree. How they even managed to stay standing for any length of time in this unbearable heat was beyond her. And why they’d do this job, protecting that golden ass, day-after-day, she couldn’t begin to fathom. The pay would have to be really good.

  If she were COG…

  “You know,” said Barbie, keeping her tone conversational, “if you were COG, I bet you wouldn’t make those poor men linger in the heat like that.”

  This was a dangerous line of conversation. How could this woman, hero or not, know what she was thinking?

  Barbie leaned closer. “Psst, I have a secret for you. I’m not exactly an imaginary friend, but I’m not what you’d consider to be a real person, either.”

  “Say again?” asked Anasua, feeling a creeping wave of nausea as she thought back to that floral drink. Just how strong was that swill?

  “It’s not the booze,” Barbie assured her. “I’m inside your head.”

  “What? Like I’m going crazy?” Anasua froze and glanced around the courtyard, hoping no one else was listening to her carry on a conversation with her imagination.

  The apparition giggled and then, of all things, ran forward and performed a series of enthusiastic cartwheels, her long legs flashing white in a thoroughly non-ladylike fashion.

  She wasn’t even breaking a sweat as she came upright again and turned to face Anasua, grinning brightly. “Come on, lighten up!”

  Anasua swallowed the lump growing in her throat. Barbie Rogers had been a character in all sorts of entertainment programs. The Space Cadet. The face (and legs) of humanity’s future. Her parents had even gone so far as to license the persona for use by their household AI-slash-housekeeper.

  Once Anasua had reached adolescence, she’d realized just how insulting it was that Barbie had never once earned a promotion. Like her hero, Anasua had joined the Federation Navy. But unlike this Space Cadet, she’d determined early on that she’d earn her way to the very top—no matter what. And while her career had been littered with ranking officers who’d been all too eager to claim credit for her accomplishments, at least she’d still been able to make some progress along that ladder. To think that her one-time hero had been content to stick with her entry-level station in life….

  Anasua glanced again at the kiosk, sucking on her lip as she considered. So close. If only...

  Barbie giggled again as she walked back on her hands, all the way to Anasua’s side, then flipped herself up onto her feet. “You know
, friend, you’ve got ambition. I’ll give you that.”

  “I shouldn’t be talking to you,” Anasua decided.

  Surprisingly, Barbie nodded her agreement. “You’re right. It’s dangerous to confide in friends, imagined or real.” She paused and let her gaze drift to the golden structure at the center of the courtyard. “Especially when you’re considering … that.”

  Treason. That was the word that came to Anasua’s mind, even though it wasn’t technically an act of sedition to register oneself as a candidate for the top position in the galaxy. It’s just that it wasn’t a very safe idea. For one’s career ambitions … or general well-being. Suddenly, Anasua’s thoughts darkened, and she found herself regarding her former hero with deadly intention.

  Barbie held her hands up, still wearing the ghost of a smirk. “Whoa, there, I’m your best friend! You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?”

  Anasua locked eyes with the bombshell, and decided that she’d stick with her earlier assessment. Either it was something in the drink, or she was having a mental breakdown. Either way, she had no time—or need—for friends.

  Real or imagined.

  32

  Harry

  Harry tried to act like a serious, badass pirate … but the excitement of the upcoming mission was making him nearly quiver with glee, and it was hard to stand still. So instead, he trotted around the SS Bray’s mostly empty hold, trying to occupy himself while Captain Cass holed up in the commons area to discuss a battle plan with Tone E Robbins and the other pirate captains via “conference call.” Whatever that meant.

  The pirates of Haven who had answered the Big T’s summons had amassed in the system nearest to Tau Bootis—home to this Full Moon resort—hiding their ships on the dark side of a gas giant with a magnetic field strong enough to scramble any sensor readings. Harry was trying his best to pick up all the technical pirate speak, and he was continually amazed at just how smart his captain was. When he’d asked about the scrambled sensor readings, Redbeard had been quick to explain that the Effing Feds could still be looking for them, and it wouldn’t do to be found before the surprise party.

  So far, so good, according to anyone within asking distance. There had been no reports of any Federation activity in any of the nearby systems, save for the area immediately surrounding Full Moon itself.

  The Grand COG was throwing one hell of a party, or so it had seemed to Redbeard. Harry hoped he’d be able to party, too. It sounded like a lot of fun.

  He checked on their Federation prisoners from afar, but it seemed both Hawke and McGee were doing as well as they could be, having their wrists and ankles tied and currently sitting morosely in the middle of one of the animal holding pens, complete with humming fence and all. Harry didn’t want to get too close to check on them, though … any time anyone got within earshot, the one called McGee started insisting he’d be happy to join their cause if they’d just untie him.

  Then, without fail, the one called Hawke would get upset, and they’d start bickering.

  Harry felt bad for McGee. Even a little bad for Hawke. But Captain Cass had made it clear that both of them had to stay where they were until the Grand COG was dealt with. And Harry knew better than to test her, especially right now.

  But maybe later he could make the case for everyone to be friends again…

  He moved on to where Bieber and Kitt were fussing over Node’s new mobile unit. The two engineers were arguing. Node’s red eye watched them both from the wall above. As Harry approached, the eye shifted to follow him.

  “I made a simple request for an arm,” Node said. “An arm with digits to grab things. Nothing fancy, even for a pair of morons, you’d think. And yet, this is the result…”

  Harry startled as Kitt hissed, the fur around her neck standing on end.

  Bieber yelped and backpedaled away from the robot so fast he toppled over. Scrambling backward on all fours, he clambered to his feet and gave Kitt an indignant glare. “Well!” he huffed. “I never!” He straightened his spectacles on his nose and whirled, nearly marching straight into Harry. Then he paused, blinked, and shook his head, adjusting his course to go around. “Homo lyncis sapiens!” he muttered as he went. “Never met such stubborn, head-strong creatures in my life!”

  Harry watched him go, perplexed, and then looked back to Kitt.

  She was also muttering to herself, but already had a panel on the remote bot open and was peering into it, paying Harry no heed.

  Harry had learned much in his time amongst pirates, such as when it was polite to interrupt someone’s private moment. This seemed like one of those situations he should avoid sticking his head into, lest he draw Kitt’s ire.

  “Uh, well, good luck with that,” he said to Node, and trotted off again.

  Zuckberg lay next to a stack of supply crates, busily chewing on a hollowed-out bone the captain had cooked up from the replicators. It was lined with something called peanut butter and it’d kept the dog busy for hours. If only they’d figured that out sooner … before Zuckberg had “marked his territory” by peeing all over the cargo hold, or earned himself several smacks across the nose for sticking it where no one wanted it.

  Satisfied his canine friend was happy for the moment, and that the hold was momentarily still safe from being peed all over, Harry continued toward the workbench Redbeard had set up in one corner. What weapons were not kept on the pirates’ persons at all times were generally stored there. Harry’s own harness, with its shoulder-mounted laser guns, was there, along with Bieber and Zuckberg’s ramshackle armaments.

  Spiner had taken his with him on his mysterious mission, and the absence of it, along with the memory of how the four of them had been totally badass when they’d rescued Captain Cass and Redbeard, brought a sudden lump of emotion to Harry’s throat.

  He swallowed hard and blinked back the sting in his eyes. He was really going to miss Spiner…

  An angry roar sounded from the corridor leading off the cargo hold and Harry jumped around to face the sound just as the door to the hold whisked open. Redbeard stomped through, beet-red in the face and blustering swear words as viciously as Harry had ever heard him. The burly pirate went immediately to the nearest stack of supply crates and grabbed one, then hurled it across the expansive room.

  The crate hit the floor, bounced, came open, and rolled, spilling ration packs everywhere.

  Harry tensed, staring at Redbeard slack-jawed. He’d seen the big pirate angry before, but never this angry. Harry wondered what had happened. Redbeard was supposed to be helping Cass and the other captains make a battle plan.

  Zuckberg yelped at the commotion and was now on his feet, the bone forgotten. He hunkered down next to his own crates, tail tucked between his legs.

  It was a good thing Bieber had left. The poor engineer probably would have wet himself.

  Kitt’s bright yellow eyes were wide, the pupils dilated. “Red!” she admonished. “Save that rage for the Feds!”

  “Tha Feds!?!” he bellowed. “Feds!? Eff the Effin’ Feds! I want me hands around tha throat of tha’ blasted traitor, Djerke! I wanna squeeze the life right outta ‘im!” He mimicked a strangling motion with his hands in mid-air.

  Kitt’s fluffed fur began to smooth. She blinked, looking as confused as Harry felt. “Djerke? What’s happened with Djerke now?”

  Redbeard let out another roar, grabbing another supply crate to send it sailing, too. Then he waved his hands around, as if groping for the right words. “He’s … he’s still got me sister under ‘is spell, damn him! She’s still defindin’ ‘im! Still smitten with ‘im! Ugh! He’s crawlin’ all over her an’ all I wanna do is break ‘is effin’ neck!”

  Harry jumped behind the workbench as another crate went flying.

  Across the hold, Zuckberg slunk behind the crates there and peeked out cautiously.

  Redbeard shook his head. “An’ Tone E—the Big T himself—is thinkin’ about lettin’ tha’ traitor live, long as he stays in my sister’s custody! It
aint’ right, I tell ye … that ain’t no kinda justice!”

  Now Harry understood why Redbeard was so angry. Djerke had been the one who had stolen Captain Cass’s original ship, the sleek, shiny one. And he’d stolen their winnings at the Running of the Donkey contest. And he’d been working with the Federation that whole time, too, sneakily following the SS Bray wherever they went so the Feds always seemed one step ahead.

  Djerke definitely didn’t seem like a very nice person.

  Harry wondered why Redbeard’s sister liked him so much.

  “Tha sight o’ tha’ traitor an’ me sister bein’ so cozy,” Redbeard went on, starting to pace. “I could see ‘em, behind Tone E.” He shuddered in disgust. “On tha’ blasted conference call. I … I may of lost me cool…”

  “Clearly,” Kitt said.

  “Tha cap’n kicked me outta the battle plannin’,” Redbeard admitted. He seemed to be calming a little now, and stroked at his wild red beard. “I swear, if I ever see tha’ bastard Djerke face-ta-face…”

  “Red…” Kitt put down her tools and went to him, dropping down to all fours to rub up against his legs and purr. “It’s all right. Tone E will see reason, I’m sure of it. Just give him time to deal with the Grand COG and clear his head.” She purred louder and arched her back as she wound around his legs. “And in the meantime … you can use all this rage on the Feds. Yes? After all, that’s what we do best, isn’t it? Shred the Feds?”

  Redbeard sighed and reached down to scratch behind her ears. Her tactics for soothing the ginger giant’s ire worked well, Harry noted. He’d have to try that, too, next time Redbeard was mad. “Aye, arrrr, me kitten. Tha’s wha’ we do best.”

  Kitt did one more round around his legs, then sprang to her feet and gave him a feral smile. “So glad to hear it. Now, since you’re here, why don’t you be a dear and go check the rest of our weapons, yeah?”