Of Donkeys, Gods, and Space Pirates
The Adventures of Harold the Donkey
Ethan Freckleton
J. R. Frontera
Copyright © 2019 by Ethan Freckleton, J. R. Frontera
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
To everyone who saw ‘donkeys’ and ‘space pirates’ and immediately thought ‘ass pirates’—that’s not what this story is about; but we salute you and your brilliant twelve-year-old mind.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
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About the Author: J. R. Frontera
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1
This is the story of Harold the Ass, who would one day be known across the far-flung reaches of the galaxy as Dread Pirate Harry.
But this was not that day.
Today was just another morning on a serene, idyllic grassy plain not unlike one you'd find on planet Earth. (This planet was technically called Kepler-186f, but Harry knew it as Cern.) And on this grassy plain, a herd of donkeys grazed. Most of them were grazing, that is. A small group of about four donkeys stood off to the side of the main herd and looked decidedly uncomfortable.
How does a donkey look when it's uncomfortable? Just like any other reasonably annoyed being might. This particular group looked away from the source of their annoyance, while giving it a good several feet of standing room. The visible effect was a semi-circle of avoidant donkeys all centered on the source of their irritation: Harold.
Or Harry, if you will.
To all outward appearances, Harry was a typical young standard jack with a shaggy grey coat, offset by solid patches of white around the nose and eyes. Atypical, however, was that unlike the rest of his companions, he could talk.
“Oh come on, won't somebody puh-leeze scratch my butt? It's so itchy right now, it's driving me crazy!” He backed up slowly toward one of the other donkeys, hopeful they would oblige.
While the surrounding donkeys couldn't talk, it was very likely that Harry was the itch they couldn't scratch. But it wasn't all bad on this idyllic, grassy plain. They had plenty of land to graze upon, plenty of fresh water to drink from the streams, and little else to worry about save the standard basics of donkey survival. Given the lack of predators on Cern, life here was pretty easy. All they had to do was avoid running off a cliff … or otherwise accidentally offing themselves.
Harry's tail swished back and forth with his own irritation. “You guys are no fun. C'mon, who wants to do something? Let's play! Or ... something. Don’t you guys ever get bored of just doing the same thing every single day?”
The semi-circle of donkeys slowly walked away.
“Ahhh, fine. I'll find someone else to hang out with.” His head sagged down as he stared at the grass. A butterfly lazily zigzagged its way past his nose.
He wanted more out of life than the other donkeys. That was part of his problem.
The other part of his problem? He wasn't actually a donkey at all. You see, Harry was a highly evolved variant of what you might describe as a tick. This particular variant had developed the ability to live in symbiosis with mammals. They could nuzzle into the spine of their host and take direct control of its movements at any time.
Harry was the only symbiont in this self-contained herd of donkeys. The sole sentient being. It hadn't always been that way for our future hero, who had been recently banished from his tribe of advanced ticks. But that's another story for another day.
Now, dejected, he released control of his host donkey and let his mind wander.
After a while, a brave—or otherwise oblivious—brown-coated jenny meandered by.
Harry’s host, whom Harry called Buddy, twitched his ears for reasons Harry couldn't understand. Then, he arched his neck and pawed at the ground, prancing back and forth as he released a harsh bray.
Donkeys still held many mysteries for Harry. Like why his host always got all riled up when a jenny came near and suddenly seemed to have the urge to pee. As Harry resumed control of Buddy, he looked on in dismay as the jenny bolted off across the field.
It seemed that neither Harry nor his host had any clue how to find companionship and acceptance within their tribes.
He muttered, for his own sake as well as Buddy’s, “Just hang in there. One day, we'll find our own herd. We'll have friends who are there to scratch our butt when we're in need. Or help you pee. Although, I don't see why you need a jenny's help to pee. You do just fine when we're by ourselves. But that's okay. I'm not judging you, Buddy.”
A low rumble in the sky drew his attention. A cover of clouds had blown in throughout the afternoon, but they were most certainly not storm clouds. He drew a deep breath, utilizing the donkey's keen sense of smell to verify this conclusion. Indeed, there was no smell of rain upon the breeze ... but there was the smell of something else.
Something strange and exotic, and not entirely pleasant.
The rumble grew louder, resonating within his ribcage. His skin quivered with a ripple of fear, and Harry intensified his hold on his host, overriding his nearly overwhelming desire to flee.
The rest of the herd, however, was under no such obligation to ignore their flight or fight response, and the thunder of little hooves echoed across the plain as they raced in blind terror toward the foothills in the distance.
Soon enough, the belly of something vast and decidedly non-mammal emerged slowly from the clouds, and Harry's mouth fell open.
A ... a starship! It must be! He'd heard of such things, of course, through the lore passed down among his tribe's elders, but he'd always considered them more objects of myth than anything real. A machine that could withstand the grand distance and pressures of space ... it seemed unreal.
And yet, here was a thing right in front of his eyes that met all the criteria for being a spaceship. At the very least, it was none of his species, nor a donkey, nor any species of bird he'd ever seen. Its hull was a patchwork of metals, glinting dully in the muted afternoon sun. As he watched, it picked up speed and arced downward ... straight in his direction.
All four of his legs locked up in a moment of panicked indecision.
Run! Run? No, stay. Yes, stay! No, run! But ... no. It's a spaceship! I have to see the spaceship!
He stood rooted to the spot, unmoving, unblinking, as the spaceship loomed closer, then settled heavily into the long grass mere steps away. Harry swallowed hard, and his heart throbbed in the long veins of his ears. By the mercy of the Overlords, I'm going to see some aliens! I'll be the first donkey ever to make first contact—no, the first Assrider of Cern to ever make first contact! I'll go down in the history scrolls. I'll be famous. Every tribe will be fighting to count me among its members!<
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Vaguely, he noticed that the other donkeys were now running back in his direction, and that a faint, shimmering blue wall had appeared around the perimeters of the plain. The sight brought a second's confusion, but then a seam in the ship’s rear hissed open, and his heart leapt as his attention snapped back to the aliens at hand—er—hoof.
A long ramp extended toward the ground and made landfall with a thud. Harold jumped as the ship released pressure with a hiss, steam clouding around the opening. He heard the thump of heavy footsteps from the gloom.
Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
His ears twitched. He stood up straight and puffed out his grey-furred donkey chest, flicking his tail. He would show these aliens he was not afraid, that he was the best damn donkey on this entire planet—
A dark form parted the curtain of steam, halting at the top of the ramp.
Bipedal. No ears or nose to speak of. Apparently hairless. Encased in some kind of suit with a ridiculous bubble-looking-thing for a helmet. Its legs looked longer and larger for its body than they should be. He tilted his head as he studied it.
Harry gasped. Wait a minute, no. Yes. No way! It couldn't be, but why not? In Harry's tribe, they had told stories of The Beginning. In The Beginning, the Gods had sent the Overlords out on spaceships to seed the Galaxy. In appearance, the Gods had two arms, two legs, and one head. Precisely matching the description of the being in front of Harry at this moment.
The God blinked in the daylight, then its close-set eyes landed on him.
Oh my gosh, I'm going to talk to a God. Seizing his chance, Harry stepped forward and offered a smile. “Hello there, God! Good afternoon and welcome to the planet Cern!”
The bipedal creature startled at his words, then brought up a large object half its size that Harry also recognized: a rifle. A very large rifle.
A squeak of surprise escaped him as he scrambled backwards, his panic merging with that of his host to deliver a powerful shot of adrenaline. No sooner had he braced to flee, to join his fellow donkeys in their terrified stampede, then a sharp prick of something hit him in the chest.
He stumbled, trying to look down at the spot of pain. Trying to see what he'd been hit with. But curse the donkey's anatomy! It was not built to see at that particular angle.
His legs were going numb. Harry fought to stay conscious even as the body of his host shut down, the pull of a deep, heavy sleep weighing on him. He fell to his knees in the grass, the afternoon light dimming, the sound of the other donkeys stampeding past muffled and distant.
“Well,” he husked, voice and tongue thick and clumsy. “That wasn't very nice. Not very nice at all…”
Buddy collapsed into blackness, leaving Harold with no way to experience the outside world. With his host entirely unconscious, Harry fought back a brief flood of panic, remembering that he had seen a God. Perhaps this was just their way of ascending their chosen into Heaven.
Thus assured, Harry settled himself into a muted awareness, straining to register the faint physical impressions of Buddy's unconscious body. He heard the other donkeys braying frantically, and wished he could say something to reassure them, too. He was jostled a bit, then felt his body laid flat upon a cool surface. Some vibration ... a sense of movement ... gravity increasing and smashing him down against a hard floor.
That was rather unpleasant.
He sent impulses to Buddy's brain, trying to wake him up. He wanted to see what was happening, goshdarnit!
Buddy jerked and stirred, and his ears twitched.
Slowly, more sounds filtered through to Harold, and he latched onto them eagerly. There was a series of bumps and thuds, some clicks.
Come on, Buddy! Wake up, would you? He sent more impulses to his poor incapacitated host, but whatever tranquilizer the God had hit him with was strong. Buddy remained comatose.
Voices drew near, and Harry paused his efforts to wake his host. He listened hard, but Buddy wasn't awake enough to process languages. Still, Harold was certain the voices were the Gods talking. And laughing. And grunting as Harold felt Buddy's body being moved again.
Oh, oh my gosh! They're taking me. I really have been chosen!
But then he was dumped unceremoniously back to the floor, roughly enough for the sensation to ripple through Buddy's nerves to Harold. He scoffed in indignation.
These Gods don't have very good manners...
Buddy's senses were slowly returning, and Harry regained control in time to hear the snap of electricity, and then a low, steady electric hum. The voices of the Gods faded, and the sound of a door opening and shutting left him alone with a myriad of other sounds.
Like … frantic, harsh donkey braying all around.
The occasional melancholy lowing of a cow somewhere far off.
The constant cluck of chickens.
And beneath it all, a deep rumble that was felt more than heard. The rumble of very large, very powerful engines...
Wait ... chickens?!
Harry cracked open an eye and rolled it around, taking advantage of Buddy's nearly 180-degree field of vision perceived from one eye alone. He lay on a cold metal floor, haphazardly and half-heartedly covered with a thin layer of straw. Other jacks and jennies from his herd milled about nervously or lay similarly incapacitated, sprawled on the ground. A shimmering blue wall surrounded them, and he swiftly deducted it must be the source of the electrical humming sound: an electric fence of some kind. He'd seen them before.
So, a holding pen then.
Buddy had groggily come to by now, so Harry lifted his head and blinked sleepily, then shook off the straw stuck to his neck.
Now he could see better.
Yes, he and the other donkeys of his herd were shut inside a holding pen. One of many such pens set up in a large, cavernous cargo hold.
Bright fluorescent lights lined the top of the hold, illuminating the other denizens he'd heard earlier. The other livestock seemed well-adjusted to their new homes.
All except the newest arrivals.
Many of Harry's herd walked the perimeter of the fence in bewilderment, or brayed and brayed with fear, eyes wide to show the whites.
Harry cleared his throat and wobbled to his feet. “Hey, hey now,” he croaked. “Calm down. It's okay. Everything will be fine.”
Wouldn't it? Surely.
He looked around the hold again. This was a spaceship. A real, proper spaceship. The rumble beneath his hooves increased, vibration humming up through his legs, and the deck tilted slightly. He braced himself, feeling the slight tug of acceleration.
They were leaving Cern now, he was sure of it.
He was aboard a spaceship of the Gods, and they were taking him away. Taking them all away.
But to where?
He gulped as Buddy's fear touched his own senses. “It's okay, Buddy.” He sent a calming intention to his host. “We're in a spaceship. As long as we're inside, space can't hurt us.”
He was pretty sure that was true. He'd never been on a spaceship before, and never gone to space, either, but from the tales his tribe had always told, space was just fine ... as long as you were in a ship or a special suit, anyway.
So they were safe, for now.
There were a few doors set into the walls of the cargo hold. The Gods had left through one of them, but which one? Harry hoped they would come back to talk. He had so many questions!
Chief of which was ... what did the Gods do with their chosen? Surely this was an honor, to be whisked away by the Creators themselves. Harry could only imagine what might be in store for his future as a companion to such powerful beings.
He meandered lazily over to the large metal water trough, set in one corner of the pen, and took several large gulps. That tranquilizer had given him cottonmouth.
Well, wherever they were going and whatever the Gods' plans, Harry couldn't wait to find out what came next.
2
The legend of the Tick Ascendency had been passed down for generations. Harry's tribe considered
themselves to be the chosen hand of the Overlords. The Gods had sent the Overlords to Cern to spread their seed. But there was a lot of seed to go around, and so the Overlords quickly realized they would need help. After they had terraformed the planet and created the necessary conditions for complex life, the Overlords gave the symbiont ticks the task of tending to the livestock.
Harry appreciated being a special helper to the Overlords. He tried to take his role seriously, keeping the donkeys in good spirits and safe from self-harm, but now there were bigger mysteries demanding his attention. His herd had mostly worn themselves out running around the pen and hyperventilating. This left him time to think. And eat. And think some more.
Buddy, however, was doing his best to pass out from stress, exhaustion, and over-eating.
Harry clamped down on his host's nervous system. “Sorry, Buddy, no napping yet. Can't you see that we're the chosen of the Gods?” He glanced around the hold for what might've been the hundredth time. The doors were still closed. Nothing was going on. He stamped his hoof in irritation. “Who would've thought being on a spaceship could be so boring?”
“Tell me about it,” a mild, pleasant voice spoke up, seemingly from the ether.
Harry's head jerked up, his eyes spinning in circles as his ears twitched about, searching for the source of the sound. He felt Buddy's stomach lurch at the sudden sensory overload. He wobbled as he tried to turn, unable to find whoever it was that had just spoken. Had he imagined it? “Hello. Hello? Who's there?”
“I’m Node,” replied the disembodied voice.
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