Starship Ass Complete Omnibus

by Ethan Freckleton

  Captain Cass exhaled. “Corvus. Harry, what did you do to her?”

  “Is she dead?” Kitt added, sounding hopeful.

  “I, uh, I don’t know.” Harry’s head was swimming. “One question at a time, okay?”

  Redbeard nodded as if that were a perfectly reasonable request. “Sure, ‘Arry, so how’d ye do it all?”

  Cass backhanded the burly pirate’s shoulder.

  “Ow, Cap’n!”

  Harry’s gaze returned to McGee. “I promise I’ll tell you what happened, but first I need to see if he’s okay.”

  “Who?” Cass asked, looking around the courtyard at the assorted people seated all over the ground, clutching their wounds.

  “I shot someone.”

  “Tha’s great, ‘Arry!” Redbeard exclaimed, then took in Harry’s crestfallen expression. “I mean, err, I’m glad it was them an’ not you…”

  Harry ignored Redbeard, and reluctantly trotted forward. It was time to take responsibility for his part in this. That’s when he noticed an excited—or agitated—Zuckberg bounding in the same direction.

  They arrived at McGee’s side at more or less the same time.

  “Hey, assholes,” Zuckberg said, his sideways grin even more pronounced than usual. Harry noticed his eyes—what little he could glimpse of them from beneath all the hair—were extensively dilated, too. “Guess what?”

  Harry paid his question no mind as he glanced down, fearing the worst. McGee’s eyes were wide open, unmoving, either staring up at some unmoving object of interest … or dead.

  Hawke sniffled and shifted his position, still sitting on the floor next to the man. “It should have been me,” he said to no one in particular. “I got him into this mess.”

  “Maybe, but I’m the one who shot him,” Harry confessed, earning a sharp look from the former Rear Admiral.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Zuckberg asked. “Don’t you want to hear about my harem? They’re here now!”

  Harry briefly looked up, long enough to assure himself that there were no other dogs in sight. Was his friend hallucinating, too?

  McGee’s eyes blinked.

  He blinked! Harry realized with a start.

  McGee’s head turned fractionally toward the form of his old dog-walking charge. “Zuck … face ... is that you?”

  “Zuckface!” The dog barked out a laugh. “That’s a good one!” He stepped forward and leaned over McGee’s face, sniffing attentively, then unleashing his purple tongue on the injured man’s nose and mouth.

  Harry used the moment to look his victim over head-to-toe. He didn’t have much experience with laser weapons, but he was pretty certain the scorch marks on the meat of the man’s shoulder and upper-arm were from him.

  “Oomph, ack!” McGee protested, already starting to sound better. Definitely not dead. Maybe not even dying. “Get off me!”

  Hawke pushed himself up to his feet and directed a long-suffering sigh at Zuckberg. “Well, then. I guess it’s okay if you ignore me.”

  The black dog paused and turned his head sideways to consider Hawke. “You know what?” he asked. “You’re a real piece of work. You think the world revolves around you, do you? I was never your secret weapon. I’m my own dog, you dig?”

  Hawke’s face fell even further, and Harry couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Did this human have no friends? How terrible was that?

  “Sure,” Hawke mumbled. “I only meant to celebrate your capabilities. You could’ve been something special.”

  Zuckberg bristled and growled in response. “Ever stop to consider what I wanted?”

  “Easy, boy,” McGee managed.

  “Hush, you” Zuckberg ordered, then turned his attention back to Hawke. “No, you didn’t! But you know what, it doesn’t matter anymore. Cuz I got what I wanted! I’ve got a harem now, so there.”

  “A harem?” Hawke repeated, looking around. “Where?”

  “You don’t see them? You blind?!”

  Harry snorted, then tried to put on a serious face for his friend before he could get suspicious. “I see them, Zuckberg. You should probably … do whatever you do with a harem, don’t you think?”

  A wagging tail was sufficient answer from his four-legged friend, but Zuckberg had more to say. “You’re right, Harry. You know, you deserve a harem, too. You could join in, if you want?”

  “Uh, that’s okay,” Harry replied a little too quickly. “I’m a little tired right now.”

  “Suit yourself.” Zuckberg looked around, taking in all the injured sailors and pirates. “Huh, not a very romantic spot. Think I’ll take my leave for now … catch ya later, suckers!”

  Purple tongue still hanging out in a big grin, Zuckberg started to dash off toward one of the hallways, then pulled up short with his ears standing as tall as they could manage beneath the weight of so much hair. “What the—”

  KABOOM!

  An explosion sounded from the direction he’d been running to, and in the space of less than a second, the entire area went up in a concussive blast, chunks of building flying everywhere, smoke and flames pouring out of twisted doorways and holes in the walls.

  “Duck!” shouted Hawke, mirrored a split-second later by others in the open atrium. Friends and former foes alike dove for cover, many of them huddling together for protection.

  Harry knelt down over McGee, hoping to spare him from any falling debris. It was the least he could do after shooting the poor fellow.

  “Oy,” came Redbeard’s familiar shout from across the way. “Wha’ in tha blazes was tha’?!”

  Faces turned to regard the growing blaze. It wouldn’t take long for this fire to consume the entire resort, if someone didn’t do something about it soon.

  The sounding alarm halted for one blessed second, then resumed again, but with an entirely different pitch.

  Harry flinched as cold water suddenly rained down on him, coming from spouts positioned all over the resort’s ceilings.

  Zuckberg, apparently unharmed, pivoted and darted in the opposite direction, tail tucked between his legs as he whimpered continually, until he was out of view, “Not sexy, not sexy, not sexy…”

  “Who did that?” Cass shouted, after untangling herself from the now-awakened decorated Federation officer and Kitt. She leveled an accusing glare at anyone within range.

  The officer that had been leading the assault earlier shrugged his tired shoulders. “I don’t think the blast originated from here. Whatever exploded came from the epicenter of the blast.”

  Harry looked around, taking in all the carnage, hoping that no one else had been injured in the explosion. That’s when he noticed the furry little engineer, Bieber, emerging from behind a nearby couch … the same one he’d been hiding behind earlier.

  “Oh, my,” Bieber mumbled, adjusting his spectacles. He stared over in the direction of the blast, then lifted a paw to point. “Wait, what’s that?”

  Harry followed his gaze. “I don’t see anything,” he muttered to himself, concentrating. “Oh, wait...!”

  A small something was emerging from the center of the torrid flames. Something on treads.

  “Node!” Harry shouted, all thoughts of regret about hurting McGee forgotten for the moment with the happiness of seeing his AI friend again. “Node, it’s you!”

  “Node?” repeated the captain, then she raised her voice. “Node, what did you do?”

  Slowly but surely, his cylindrical robotic form emerged from the flames, the paint-job all but ruined.

  Harry galloped forward, despite the heat. “Are you okay?”

  The top of the cylinder turned and twisted around, the lenses adjusting to take in the courtyard scene. “I’m fine … now … thanks for asking. Dare I ask what I missed out here?”

  Uh oh. Harry had the distinct impression his friend had been left behind again, despite having access to a remote body. What would he do when he found out the mission was now pretty much over?

  Well, his friend would find out s
oon enough, but Harry didn’t want to be the messenger, that was for sure.

  “Oh, nothing much,” Harry lied.

  “Nothing,” Node repeated, his voice flat.

  Harry attempted a smile. “Nothing.”

  41

  Back on Star Station Alpha…

  “Thanks for allowing us up here, Vice Admiral,” said Antonio E Pluribus Unum, now the 35th Grand Center-of-the-Galaxy of the United Federation of Mankind, and the first to ever hold the office twice. Also the first to ever have a large parrot riding along on his broad shoulders.

  Mr. Burton squawked his approval, his already loud voice amplified further by the cavernous space of the bridge on Star Station Alpha.

  Harry had been sure to study up further on his civics. After all, it had been, as Haven’s former leader had been all too eager to point out, his fault that the enigmatic pirate had to serve as the Federation’s head once again. Not that Harry could’ve known Tone E had already had the job once! No one had ever told him!

  In fairness, he’d registered more than one candidate for the office, including the captain, Redbeard, Kitt, and even Node. Of course, the latter’s registration hadn’t gone through. But the others? They’d had a chance.

  After the giant fire had been doused at the resort, others across the galaxy had gotten the memo about the registration kiosk being open for business—though many had thought it just a ruse to kill off more political opponents.

  In the end, Tone E Robbins had been the run-away favorite for the position. Which was fine by Cass and the other nominated pirates, none of whom had wanted the position, anyway. Not that Tone E had either, of course, but at least he knew how the job worked.

  As for the former Grand COG? Well, he hadn’t garnered much support, but there had been pockets of voters out there who were quite vocal in their dissatisfaction about the recent turn of events. Harry hoped they hadn’t been serious about threats to turn “revolutionary.” More violence was the last thing anybody needed right now.

  As a condition of accepting the nomination, Tone E had vowed in a big speech (broadcast across the galaxy) not only to work with the Council to change the Constitution so that there could be term limits to the position, but also to engage the Federation in a soul-searching conversation about its naming conventions. After all, the Federation didn’t just represent humans, nor was it only comprised of men. The galaxy was a large, large place, full of all sorts of beings, binary and otherwise. It was long past time to acknowledge that fact.

  Hawke inclined his head as they strode the walkway along the center of the bridge. “Of course, Beloved Leader.”

  “Squawk! Beloved leader, squawk!” repeated Mr. Burton.

  The newly-elected Galactic Supervisor nearly choked. “Dear lord, Vice Admiral, please don’t call me that.” Among his many first acts, Tone E had accepted Doyle’s resignation, then reinstated—and promoted—Hawke, much to Commodore Corvus’s consternation.

  She’d been so upset that she’d resigned on the spot. Tone E had tried to refuse her resignation, wanting to promote her to real Rear Admiral of the Federation fleet, but in the end she had claimed she was done with the rank and file and taking orders from other people. She wanted to be her own boss for once, she’d said. The sweet song of self-employment was calling her name, where she could finally choose who she worked with, instead of being forced to suffer fools day in and day out.

  Rumor was, from those who’d been in the docks when she’d left, she’d taken several other dissatisfied officers along with her, all of them grumbling and muttering about a “new era” of piracy. Whatever that meant…

  Meanwhile, Zuckberg was busy cavorting around in a real, actually populated dog park down on the lower levels of the station. He’d shown little interest in galactic governance, far too occupied with his harem.

  McGee had returned to duty … sort of. He was last sighted hanging out at the dog park, which wasn’t much different from any other day. There were whispers that he’d deserted The Federation Navy—but if that were true, he wouldn’t be here now, would he?

  In fact, a lot of pirates had declined to take the trip up to the bridge of the Federation station. There were still a lot of sore feelings to work through and it would take time to heal. Though as Redbeard had mused, some pirates were probably busier working on their “friendships” than healing. Sonia and Djerke came to mind … as did the purple Dr. Bonecrusher and Harry’s vet, Dr. Brenneke.

  Maybe even, Harry thought, Captain Cass and Redbeard. They’d come along with him to the station’s bridge, and as Harry followed after them on the tour, he noticed they were walking side by side, really close to each other. Every now and then, their hands would touch, and they seemed to be frequently whispering back and forth and smiling.

  It warmed his heart to see them like that, and he couldn’t stop his own smile from spreading across his face.

  Harry’s metallic hooves clattered on the walkway as Tone E and Hawke led them forward toward the massive array of displays and control consoles at the front of the bridge, along with an impressive viewport that offered a beautiful view of open-space, as well as planet Earth below.

  Earth, Harry mused with no shortage of wonderment. Birthplace of the Gods, Anvil of Creation for the Overlords. Only, he knew by now that the humans weren’t gods. They were as imperfect and mortal as he or any of his former tribe back on Cern. And the Overlords? Their disappearance from the galaxy was still one of its great mysteries.

  The thought made him think, more than a little sadly, of his adventuring friend, Spiner. Where was he now?

  “Harry, are you paying attention?” Tone E was speaking, looking a little impatient despite his cheerful manner.

  Mr. Burton ruffled his feathers and stretched, perching precariously on one limb. “Harry—squawk!”

  “Huh?”

  “I was telling my colleagues, I think you’re due for a promotion.”

  “Promotion? What do you mean?” Harry asked, not following. Did pirates—or former pirates—have a chain of command?

  “As the appointed leader of not just the Federation, but also Haven, it is my duty to make sure that our community is served by capable officers. Captains, even.”

  “Captains? But, Haven was destroyed.”

  Tone E nodded sagely. “Yes, but there is still the matter of the Zeta Protocol to wrap up. Some day we will have a new Haven.”

  “Oh,” Harry replied, still not following.

  “Harry.” Cass pulled up alongside him and set a gentle hand down on his shoulder. “I need to finish that mission, and I’d like to consult with the last of the captains before I make a final decision.”

  Other captains, Harry repeated in his head. What were they on about? “Okay,” he said. “Well, you should probably get them together, then.”

  “You’re right,” she replied. “But first…”

  Tone E stepped in. “First we need to finish up here. Harold of Cern, it is my utmost pleasure and honor to recognize you for your many heroic achievements as part of our community. We owe you several debts of gratitude for your service.”

  Harry gulped, trying not to get choked up. He had to admit, he was feeling pretty touched by the acknowledgement. Had anyone back home on Cern ever given him a compliment? He couldn’t remember, but he thought he would, if such a thing had happened before…

  “As such,” continued Tone E, “I’m promoting you to the rank of Merchant Captain, effective immediately. Given recent events, I’d further like to bestow upon you the honorific Dread Captain, in honor of our pirate brethren—who are still without an official new Haven.”

  Harry finally remembered to breathe. “Woah. Woah!”

  “Blimey, look out fer me toes, ‘Arry!” shouted Redbeard as he tried to dance out from under Harry’s fast-moving hooves.

  “Sorry!” Captain! Merchant Captain … Dread Captain! “I’m a real-life, bad-ass, pirate captain now!” he cried, unable to help himself.

  “You sure
are, Harry,” agreed Tone E.

  “Badass!” Mr. Burton echoed, then leapt off of Tone E’s shoulders and flapped ponderously into the air, proceeding to fly circles around the cavernous space. More than one Federation sailor flinched as they peered upward.

  Hawke looked on, brows almost up to his hairline. “Well,” he said, turning his gaze onto the other sailors present. “Men … and ladies … a salute and three-cheers for the now-promoted Captain Harold of Cern.”

  “What, an ass?!” shouted one of the men from down in the bullpen. One of the communications officers, perhaps?

  “Who was that?” Hawke snapped immediately. “Stand up and show yourself!”

  A white-furred, fox-like humanoid stood from his console.

  “What is your name, officer?”

  “Fochs, sir, Junior Comms Officer.”

  “Not anymore, Fochs,” Hawke said, his cheeks reddening. “You are relieved of duty. Get off my bridge.”

  As if to punctuate the Vice Admiral’s directive, a frenetic mass of red and blue passed directly over the (former) Comms Officer’s head … and unloaded some sort of massive, loose white projectile.

  Too stunned to react, Fochs took the load on the crown of his head, a shocked frown shifting into an angry sneer. “Ugh!” he shouted. “Well … well … suck it, Blowhard!”

  The other officers in the bullpen gasped.

  Redbeard and Kitt exchanged amused snickers.

  Hawke lifted an eyebrow, somehow maintaining his composure, and only stared down the fox-like creature.

  Fochs peered up, attempting to maintain a fierce expression, then caved, his shoulders slumping as he turned away and began the long walk of shame off the bridge. Everyone seemed to hold their collective breaths until he was gone, the door sliding shut behind him.

  “Wow,” Harry exclaimed. “You did that for me?”

  Hawke pursed his lips. “No, Harold. I did that because it’s the right thing to do.” His expression grew somber as he turned his gaze onto Captain Cass. “Bambi … everyone, I’m sorry for everything that’s happened between us. I was only ever trying to do the right thing…”