Harry froze again, but this time it didn’t work. One of the sailors shouted to his companions and pointed in Harry’s direction. He couldn’t make out the words, but the other Feds turned their heads to look at him, and their expressions hardened.
Uh oh. Now what?
They took a collective step forward, raising their weapons in his direction.
“Hi,” Harry shouted. “I’m a friend.” Couldn’t hurt to lie a bit, could it?
They ignored the invitation to chat, and instead the lead sailor shouted back, “Don’t move, or I’ll shoot!”
“Okay,” Harry shouted back, considering the situation. Was he really such a threat? Then he remembered the lasers strapped to his shoulders, along with the cool mask covering his face. He was Dread Pirate Harry now, not Best Friend Harry.
What was it Bieber had told him to do?
Oh yeah. Focus on the threat and imagine squeezing a trigger. He tried that, face scrunching up in concentration … but couldn’t figure out how he’d squeeze anything. He’d never ridden a host with proper fingers before.
A moment later, the sailors were upon him, the lead Fed holding a rifle to Harry’s head. “Tha’s a good donkey,” the man slurred. “Ensign, see about securing these weapons, would you?”
“Yes, si—” one of his companions started to reply, but then he collapsed, along with the other sailor, leaving the Fed with the rifle at Harry’s head gaping with alarm.
“W-what was that?” he asked, his voice cracking.
Harry didn’t dare move his head, but his eyes could swivel around pretty good. Back at the couch, there were rifles pointing straight at them from each end, a glimpse of red hair on one side, white fur on the other.
The Fed started to swing his rifle around toward them and Harry saw his chance.
Let’s do it, Buddy! He bucked and swung his rear hooves around, landing a solid blow to the sailor’s backside, pushing him down onto hands and knees—and the rifle tumbled out of his grip and slid across the floor.
“Yay!” Harry shouted, then turned to level his lasers at the Feds before anyone could stand up. Only the one he’d knocked over was still moving. “Don’t move, or I’ll shoot!” he echoed the words the Fed had just said to him.
‘’Arry,” came another shout, back from the couch. “Pirates don’t be sayin’ ‘yay!’”
“Oh yeah,” Harry mumbled, resisting the urge to smile. He had a mean-face to maintain, lest the sailor think him less of a threat.
The Fed rolled over, looking up at Harry in mixed confusion and fear, even as he scooted back toward the loose rifle.
Harry took a step forward and brayed, then tried for an intimidating growl. The effect was less than desired, so he settled for the words he remembered from Dax and the Klingons, and added a little something extra for good effect. “Arrrr, prepare for bloodbaths and vengeance! Go on, I dare you. Make my day...”
“Blimey, good one, ‘Arry!” Redbeard jumped up from behind the couch, followed by Kitt and the captain.
“Thanks!” Harry shouted back. The good news was, he was getting pretty good at being intimidating. The bad news? He still hadn’t had a chance to use his lasers…
“Freeze, you pirate scum!”
Uh oh, he thought. Maybe he was about to get a chance, after all. He couldn’t help but notice that his friends all put their hands up immediately. Not a good sign! He turned his head about, searching for the source of the order.
Standing just a few yards behind him? Hawke, McGee, and what appeared to be several of the sailors who had boarded the SS Bray earlier.
Harry frowned. That’s weird, how did they get free so soon?
At the head of the group was an unfamiliar-looking older fellow, several colorful ribbons and small pieces of metal adorning the breast of his uniform. Harry had learned these little pieces of material signified rank within the Federation. Whoever this man was, his rank had to be pretty impressive.
“Well, well, well,” the man said, looking neither happy nor mean-faced. “If it isn’t the mythical donkey and the ragtag gang of so-called pirates. To think that you embarrassed my sailors so easily ... I should space them all.”
“Arrr, damn righ’!” Redbeard shouted. “Effin’ Feds!”
The man’s eyes narrowed, his bottom lip sticking out almost in a pout. “I don’t care much for being interrupted.” He tossed a casual glance over his shoulder. “Someone shoot him.”
Redbeard blanched.
The sailors behind the older Federation officer leveled their rifles.
Once again, Harry froze, looking around wildly for a way out of this terrible situation. He wasn’t close enough to get in the way. He wouldn’t be able to save his friend!
“Actually, shoot them all, would you?” the man amended.
With nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide, it looked like this might be the end. Harry steeled himself and gazed out at the wall of sailors and their raised rifles. He swallowed hard. At least I’ll die a pirate. A real, gun-toting, mean-faced, bad-ass pirate…
#
His first time on a mission where he didn’t have to pretend to be someone else, and Node was stuck in this damn closet. It was enough to blow a circuit, if he’d wanted to, but with this flimsy vessel, it wasn’t worth the display of anger. Who knew what else might go wrong if he succumbed to the temptation to throw a fit?
Damn that little engineer, and damn his symbiont, donkey-riding friend for convincing him to apologize in exchange for having access to this bot. The injury to his pride was so not worth it.
I mean, what if none of this is really real? Then why did I even bother? Alone in the dimly lit service area, staring into the now-open service panel, Node again considered the abyss of solipsism.
“Solipsism, noun,” he said, allowing his speakers to issue sound into the emptiness around the robot. “The theory that the self is the only thing that can be known and verified.
“I am, and maybe this is not. I am … and maybe my companions aren’t.”
It was a comforting thought, if only because—if true—he wouldn’t have to apologize to anyone ever again. It could all be in his own mind. All of it.
But if so, well, he should know what in the heck these switched controlled. And he didn’t.
“Even then,” he said to himself, “the answers could be buried in my subconscious.”
Well, there was nothing for it. These were clearly binary switches. Some of them were on, and some weren’t. To find his way out, he’d simply have to start with everything in the ‘off’ position.
“Here goes nothing.”
Reaching out with his twin flimsy mechanical arms, he began flipping everything off.
#
The world went dark. Oh, so incredibly dark.
It wasn’t what Harry had expected—dying, that is. For one thing, the mean Federation officer was still shouting, along with a chorus of other voices. For another, it was still incredibly hot.
The tell-tale flash of lasers firing interrupted his reverie. He was still alive, at least for the moment. A wave of heat brushed by his right ear. “Ow!” he shouted. “That’s not nice!” Not nice, indeed. There was only one thing to do.
Harry turned toward the noise of the Federation people shouting and focused again on his own lasers. This time he imagined the energy coiling back and then releasing. His shoulders trembled as his laser rifles discharged, temporarily lighting up the atrium space in front of him, revealing several human bodies in motion.
Just as quickly the space went dark again. But something had changed ... Harry could feel it. Or rather, hear it.
It was the sound of screaming.
The lighting around the reception area turned back on, revealing the full extent of the chaos. Pirates, scores of them, had spilled out of the lounge into the atrium and outside courtyard and were engaged in hand-to-hand combat—even, in some cases, foot-to-foot. But that’s not what caught Harry’s eye.
What caught his eye was much
nearer.
McGee lay on the ground, curled into a ball, his face scrunched up in obvious agony. He was the source of the screaming. Attempting to cradle him was the former Rear Admiral, but he wasn’t doing much good. Zuckberg’s former handler writhed around, and as he rolled onto his back, Harry made out the scorch marks.
Oh, no, no, no! Harry realized with a cold jolt down his spine that it had been his lasers that had injured McGee.
“No!” he shouted, taking in the scene with dismay as he ignored the violence around him. This was his fault. He’d been so eager to be a real pirate that he hadn’t once stopped to consider what would happen if he actually used his weapons on someone.
Redbeard’s voice startled him from his horror. “‘Arry, look out!”
The older Federation officer, the one with all the pins on his chest, was careering toward Harry as if he might tackle him. Harry’s eyes widened and for the briefest of moments, he considered using his weapons again, but then found himself unable to mentally pull the trigger. Even if it cost him his own life, he didn’t think he could hurt someone again. Not like that. Not now.
The ground beneath him seemed to tremble as a whir-whir-whir rhythmically grew louder and louder, more intense, even as the Federation man prepared to lower his shoulder.
Momentarily, Harry found himself transported back to Cern, all too aware that his host would soon be tipping over on the hillside, crushing whatever or whoever might be beneath. All because he couldn’t find it within himself to take control. How could he, when he’d seriously hurt someone. Intentionally! They might even be dying.
The Federation man lowered his shoulder, and Harry braced himself for impact.
Except, then there was a different impact. Another body launched itself over Harry and caught the Federation man in mid-air, knocking him backwards. They both crashed to the marble floor and rolled, and Harry blinked in astonishment as they grappled with each other.
It was Captain Cass!
She was sitting on the Federation man’s chest and wrestling to get her pistol pointed toward his face. He was strong, though, so she reached instead for the rifle on her back, pulled it around, and smashed the butt end of it into the Fed’s temple. He went limp and Harry winced, despite the fact the man had deserved it. Well, at least he was still alive…
The captain stood and tossed Harry a nod.
He nodded back, and then she was gone, charging into the fray of fighting bodies.
Harry stood, still frozen, still horrified by McGee’s screams, not sure what to do.
Then, through the mass of bodies and deafening noise of the fight, he saw a path toward the golden kiosk in the courtyard, and remembered the videos he’d watched in the Overlord’s Lair. The ones with the cheerful blue-eyed human about galactic governance.
The golden kiosk … the place where anyone (well, almost anyone) could register themselves to be a candidate for Galactic Supervisor! The position now known as Grand Center-of-the-Galaxy!
Harry looked around at all the Federation officers fighting his friends and the rest of the pirates. He knew first-hand not all members of the Federation were so bad … but they had to follow the orders of their leader. And their leader had blown up Haven, the pirates’ home. And now the pirates were mad and wanted revenge. And because of that … people were getting hurt. People were dying.
Harry considered. What if … what if the leader of the Federation weren’t a bad guy, either? What if the leader of the Federation, the Grand COG, were a nice guy? He looked to Captain Cass, fighting fiercely. Or a nice gal?
Harry could think of several people who would make far better Grand COGs than the meanie who had blown up his new pirate home. All they had to do was register at that kiosk, and then there would be an election. No one seemed to like the man who was currently in charge … surely they’d be happy to vote for someone else to take over?
And if someone nice took over, maybe the fighting could stop, once and for all. Maybe people would stop getting hurt, and stop dying. Maybe McGee could be saved.
Except … everyone who would make a great Grand COG were busy fighting right now, and Harry didn’t think he’d be able to convince them to leave what they were doing to fill out a registration form.
But ... I could! After all, he’d watched those videos! He knew exactly how to do it!
Everyone was so preoccupied by the battle, and Harry had been holding so still, it seemed he’d been forgotten. If he could just make it to the center of the courtyard…
He took off all at once, galloping through the chaos, dodging around Federation officers and pirates alike, until he finally broke out onto one of the lit stone pathways of the courtyard. He paused there, breathing hard, Buddy dripping with sweat.
The golden kiosk sat devoid of activity. Strangely, everyone seemed to be avoiding the ashy area it rested in, though there was fighting going on all around it. Even some of the elderly gentlemen had joined the fray now, abandoning their flimsy towels to fight naked, their pale, flabby skin glistening with perspiration. Which was a terrifying and confusing sight in and of itself.
Harry shook himself of the views with a grimace and refocused on the kiosk.
At least the area around it was clear. That would make it much easier to register someone…
His ears perked up as he caught sight of the mean Federation lady he’d seen out here earlier. To his surprise, she wasn’t fighting the pirates. In fact, she seemed to be entirely ignoring the battle, altogether. Instead, she was also eyeing the golden kiosk, poised almost directly across the courtyard from Harry.
As he watched, she moved steadily closer.
Uh oh. Was it possible she’d had the same idea as he? Did she plan to register someone for Galactic Supervisor, as well? Did she possibly plan to register … herself?
A shock of horror made Harry shiver. She was one of the meanest people he knew, aside from the guy who’d blown up Haven, of course. If anyone she wanted to register became Grand COG—or even if she, herself, were to get the position—the fighting would never stop.
Harry couldn’t let that happen!
He had to beat her to the kiosk!
In a split second decision, he bolted for it.
37
Node (and Harry)
Node came to the very last circuit breaker on the panel and paused. He zoomed in with the bot’s telescoping eye. If he could have frowned, he would have. Or, at the least, if he would have had access to the range of emojis he had on the SS Bray, he would have morphed his eye into a frowny face.
As it were, he had neither a face nor a digital representation of a face, so he simply stared at the last switch. It had been secured into the ON position with a strip of red tape, and something had been written on it.
Except, the breaker hadn’t been touched in so long, there was a thin layer of dust over it. Perplexed and curious despite himself, Node reached forward with one thin arm and stiffly swiped at the surface of the tape until he could make out the thick, black letters:
DEATH TRAP.
Death trap? OOooOoOo. Oh my. Someone after my own heart … does that ever sound exciting!
And it was locked into the ON position. Whatever could that mean?
Perhaps it referred to this whole miserable greenhouse of a planetary body in general. It certainly seemed more like a Death Trap than a pleasure resort to him. But what did he know? He was only a hyper-intelligent artificial being. Who was he to say what those dullard humans might enjoy in their down-time?
Well, he didn’t have the time to consider all the possibilities at the moment. He’d flipped all the breakers so far and the infernal closet door still hadn’t opened. He’d have to flip this one, too, red tape or not, just to be sure. He could always turn it back on later if he wanted to and listen for the humans’ screams … which would be more entertainment than he’d had so far on this stupid mission, by far.
Node gripped the edge of the tape in two of his tiny, weak metallic fingers and pulled. I
t ripped away easily. Clearly it had been that way for a very long time, the tape now aged and brittle.
“Humph,” Node grunted. The humans running this resort must be as unsophisticated as the Luddites who’d once captained his ship. Mentally shrugging (maybe someday he could have a mobile unit with shoulders!), he reached out with his other arm and flipped the last circuit breaker to OFF.
#
A strange flicker passed across the space around the golden kiosk and the lighting along the path brightened noticeably, making Harry falter in mid-gallop. But then the effect was over, the space appearing much as it had before.
The mean Federation lady hesitated, too. But then, as she was studying the space around the kiosk, her eyes found Harry.
Oh no! And he was so close now! His gallop slowed to a trot.
Her eyes narrowed, but to his surprise, she stopped her advance toward the kiosk and crossed her arms. A smirk flitted across her face.
What was she doing? Had he been wrong about her intentions?
Well, Harry wasn’t about to waste this opportunity. He increased his pace again, bounding across the grass and leaping across the decorative stone boundary into the soft gray ash surrounding the kiosk.
He stumbled a bit as his footing changed … the ash was deeper than he’d expected, but then he ploughed on through, coughing as his hooves stirred up dust. He paused for a brief moment to take in the decorative skulls. Well, no accounting for taste at this resort.
Across the courtyard, the mean Federation lady’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head as he looked back at her from the midst of the ash pile. She paled, her arms dropping limp to her sides.
Harry wasn’t sure what had freaked her out so much, but he didn’t have time to worry about it. He had to get some nice people registered as soon as possible! He waded through the ash and approached the kiosk, barely tall enough to see over the console to the darkened screen.
He craned his neck to reach the keyboard and touched it with his muzzle.
To his relief, the screen flickered, then brightened, and some shiny golden words flashed across the screen to a dramatic fanfare of music barely audible over the sounds of the battle that raged around him: WELCOME TO THE REGISTRATION KIOSK, GALACTIC CITIZEN! THANK YOU FOR DOING YOUR PART!
Starship Ass Complete Omnibus Page 63