Into the Horsebutt Nebula

INTO THE HORSEBUTT NEBULA

by

CHET GOTTFRIED

Produced by ReAnimus Press

Other books by Chet Gottfried:

The Gilded Basilisk

Einar and the Cursed City

Einar and the Myrtledale Conspiracy

© 2016 by Chet Gottfried. All rights reserved.

The rights of Chet Gottfried to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs, and Patents Act 1988.

The characters in this novel are not intended to bear any resemblance to any real persons alive or dead.

http://ReAnimus.com/authors/chetgottfried

Cover Art by Erick Eyerman

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

~~~

To Sam Bellotto Jr., talented writer and esteemed editor of Perihelion SF, who showed me a way forward,

and to my wonderful early readers whose reviews have made this a better novel: Annie Tupek, Caryn Eve Murray, James Beamon, Marty Bonus, Richard Zwicker, Russell Adams, Sue Gottfried, Susan Crowley, and Tim Fuller

~~~

Chapter 1

Dead Bodies

Bodies . . . I need bodies. DEAD bodies. Captain Sam Baines stared forward. The stars and clusters outside were beautiful, but the view meant nothing to him. He clenched his hands into fists and hammered the instrument panel of his deep-space frigate Rattlesnake. Where—oh where—can I find DEAD bodies? He slumped backward in his chair. I mean, it’s not as if I asked to be the last human in the Milky Way. It kind of happened, but there it is. I’m the last one, and I’ve responsibilities to keep human tradition alive. Attack and destroy something. And how can I do that unless I’ve sufficient zombies to man my ship?

Impregnate them, Voss said.

Baines turned toward the alien and demanded, How many times are you going to say that?

Voss continued to study the readouts on the screen in front of him. "They are amazon-zombies. Not to make too fine a point about it: They’re women."

They’re dead! Baines roared.

That never stopped you before.

Fair enough. Baines remained quiet a few moments while he pondered his duties as an Earth Fleet captain. Lord knows I’ve tried and tried. I mean, ever try seducing an amazon-zombie? He shuddered. It calls for ropes, chains, and heavy armor. And to what end? Nothing! Absolutely nothing, but what can you expect? They may be the ‘living dead,’ but basically, our amazon-zombies are dead, dead, dead. They’re incapable of conceiving. Okay, I admit, there was an outside chance. Less than an outside chance. Think about how it would end. What would we have? Baby zombies? It would take years before they could become full-fledged crew members. What would we do in the meantime? Change their diapers? Maintain a zombie nursery? We’d be sitting helpless until they reached maturity. Even given all the downsides, I tried impregnating the amazons, and it didn’t work. Baines turned his bloodshot eyes toward Voss as if measuring him. I’m prepared to do anything to get zombies to keep Earth Fleet alive.

Voss flinched. Wait a sec, Cap. I’m your friendly little alien. Remember? You need a big, hulking human broad to be a proper amazon-zombie. That’s not me. I’m not the right species or the right sex. He adjusted his baseball cap, worn backward, one of the high symbols of Earth culture that aliens everywhere admired. The hat was Voss’s only garment, since he had a full coat of fur that he kept remarkably glossy. His tail took the most grooming time. Voss always gave it that extra effort.

Despite Voss’s many abilities, Baines couldn’t escape the thought that Voss looked like a 4-foot-tall squirrel, but the hat gave the alien a little dignity. The captain sighed and turned his gaze to the forward portal.

Amazon-zombies had a half-life of ninety days. After that, they started falling apart, losing a finger here or a foot there. Six months had already fled by without the ship obtaining zombie replacements. Its freezer was empty. Rather than the standard complement of twenty-four warriors, Baines had eighteen zombies left. The number was a downright embarrassment, as well as a foreboding sign of what would happen to Earth Fleet’s last frigate.

Voss bounced on his seat. Hey Sam! I found it!

Baines grunted, I’m ‘Captain.’ Don’t forget that. We’re on a warship, and rank deserves respect.

"Listen, Cap, our troubles are over. I found the Queen!"

Yeah. Sure. As if any alien who looked like an oversize rodent could find the long-lost starship.

Honest to god, Cap! Voss was a highly qualified engineer. His maintenance on the ship was a wonder to behold. The alien had coaxed into life various ship systems that the captain never knew the Rattlesnake had. Baines had a sneaking suspicion that Voss made it up as he went along, adding new electronics that weren’t part of the original specifications. Okay. There was some grudging admiration there, even if Voss wasn’t human. Nevertheless, the alien irritated Baines. The annoyance stemmed from the fact that Voss didn’t care one way or another about the loss of Earth. Instead Voss complained about the utter destruction of his own race, the Rodans, of which Voss was the sole surviving member. Baines shook his head. Voss had no sense of perspective. Of course Earth was more important.

Beyond respecting Voss’s engineering talents, Baines had little regard for the alien’s ability as a navigator. Voss couldn’t plot a course through the celestial harmonics to save his life. On the other hand, the alien had an uncanny ability to find anything misplaced aboard the Rattlesnake, but locating the Celestial Queen would take far more effort than locating a cache of almonds. From talented astrophysicists using the most sophisticated instruments to rogue pilots flying suicide missions, people had searched the galaxy from one end to the other for the Celestial Queen. The end result was the same for everyone: no sign of the impossibly huge liner. How could anything that large disappear? Did the ship stumble into a star, crash on a planet, or suffer internal damage?

"Lavinia knew everything about the Celestial Queen," Baines said. "If the Celestial Queen was anywhere to be found, she’d have found it. She had a knack for inspired guesses that others, relying on instruments, couldn’t comprehend. He glanced at Voss to see whether the complaint went home. Lavinia had a hunch where the ship would be, but she didn’t have the chance to put her plan into operation."

They both stared at the bottle of Bass ale hanging off the rearview screen and over the instrument panel.

A tear formed in Voss’s eye. Poor Lavinia. She tried too hard.

Baines shuddered. He tried blocking, but the memory persisted. Maybe in time he’d forget, but the disaster had occurred too recently, only a month or so ago. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask her. Lavinia did it as a surprise for my thirtieth birthday.

~~~

Baines first met Lavinia a few weeks after Dr. Titus had rampaged through the solar system. The meeting took place in a deserted bar on one of Jupiter’s moons. Which one? Ganymede? Io? All the bars on those moons looked alike: savage and primitive. By that time, apart from Baines himself, every single human and most aliens in the solar system were dead, but Lavinia had avoided the slaughter.

While walking through the bar, Baines saw an unbroken bottle of Bass ale. Not only unbroken but unopened. He needed a drink more than anything else that day. As soon as he touched the bottle, Lavinia switched into the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She clung to him and asked for a safe passage—to anywhere. From that day to the present, Lavinia remained with him. She was the most talented shape-shifter he had come across.

Later, Baines learned that her favorite technique when in danger was to switch to a bottle of beer. With the possible exception of encountering rogue teetotalers, being a bottle of beer was as safe as anyone could be.

Lavinia came aboard the Rattlesnake, and life was good. Her cheerful demeanor in the face of any and all adversity meant a great deal to both the captain and Voss.

Until last month.

Thirty-two days ago, Voss had led the blindfolded Baines to the main cabin, which housed the amazon-zombies. The captain was wondering what in all the universe possessed Voss to bring him blindfolded anywhere near the zombies. The difference between being ripped apart and enjoying breathing was the heavy-duty titanium chains that kept the zombies locked into position.

The aroma in the main cabin was something other than the typical zombie stench that would overwhelm the ventilation system on most days. Today was different. The captain sniffed chocolate. That didn’t make any sense until Voss found a stool to stand on and removed the captain’s blindfold.

The sight stunned Baines. Lavinia had transformed into Marilyn Monroe wearing a low-cut white dress. In front of her was a fresh-baked chocolate cake. He suspected that Voss had more to do with preparing the cake than Lavinia, but he had eyes only for Lavinia who sang Happy Birthday. His heart beat faster while he listened to her. She had Marilyn’s voice down perfectly. Naturally, Baines admired all of Lavinia’s aspects. The shape-shifter did a superb Marie Curie too, but he preferred Marilyn Monroe as a birthday treat.

Could it get any better?

Yes it could.

Before his eyes Lavinia did an ultimate transformation. She became his all-time favorite historic aircraft, a Supermarine Spitfire Mark IIa, beloved from the Battle of Britain. He’d be happy to sit in the cockpit and shoot anything, but of course he’d refrain from doing so. He knew Lavinia too well by that time. Every single part and feature of the Spitfire was a part and feature of Lavinia. To shoot a single round would mean that Lavinia would subsequently lose a fingernail or the equivalent when she resumed her own shape. Not that the captain had any idea of Lavinia’s true shape. He wondered whether Lavinia would ever tell or show him that. It didn’t particularly matter. He was too busy glorifying in her magnificence as a fighter plane.

Look at the size of the propeller! It was nearly twice as tall as Baines himself.

He slowly approached the Spitfire. The tan and green camouflage was equally remarkable. The curves of the wings and tail were every bit as graceful as the original.

Tentatively, Baines reached out his hand and touched a wingtip. He wanted to feel the metal, but the act of touching produced an unanticipated result. Before the sensation of metal could reach his brain, Lavinia metamorphosed into a bottle, which spun round and round on the gangway that ran along the center of the main cabin.

The captain cried in horror, but Lavinia remained a bottle, rocking back and forth as the spinning subsided. He picked up the bottle and stared at the label: Bass Pale Ale.

It’s worse than before, he groaned. At our first encounter, she became human. Now, she’s a glass bottle again.

Voss’s fur stood out on end. Lavinia!

She’s shape-shifted one too many times. Lavinia extended herself too far and has collapsed back into her species’ base form.

That can’t be. Let me check.

Baines refused to relinquish the bottle to him.

Hold it closer to me, Voss asked. There. You see. It’s full. And I bet the cap is on tight.

So what?

Don’t you see? If Lavinia went into her own shape, she’d be an alien bottle of beer, not Bass. The ale is a tradition from way back on Earth.

Yeah, Thomas Hardy mentioned it in one of his novels.

Actually, Cap, that was Rider H. Haggard.

Ha! You aliens think you know it all. The name is H. Rider Haggard. Inasmuch as Voss was always throwing Earth culture at him, Baines decided to show him who knew best. Furthermore, Monet included some bottles of Bass in one of his paintings.

In point of fact, that was Eduard Manet, but it’s easy to mistake Manet and Monet. Their names are so similar.

Whatever, the captain said. He caressed the bottle and then placed it in the position of highest honor, hanging off the rearview screen, and with a view out the forward porthole. Baines knew that Lavinia would like that. She had always enjoyed the view of outer space speckled with stars.

~~~

Baines’s thoughts returned to the present, and he shook his head. Lavinia was the most beautiful woman, whatever she was.

Voss sighed, and Baines guessed that Voss had his own private memories, perhaps of Lavinia being a Rodan. She had a way of pleasing everyone no matter the species. He wondered whether she could become a zombie. He wouldn’t want to waste her as that, well, not for a long time, but if there were a pressing emergency, no doubt she’d be willing to cooperate.

Captain, I miss Lavinia as much as you do.

Don’t be foolish. You’re not human.

Voss did not exactly respond to the remark, but the captain heard him grinding his incisors. Of course, Voss often ground his incisors. That went hand in hand with being descended from rodents. Voss’s teeth would always keep growing.

Whatever you say about her abilities versus mine, Voss snapped, "I have the Celestial Queen onscreen."

Baines snorted. He didn’t think that Voss could tell the difference between an intergal, or intergalactic, liner and a shuttle. Consequently, the chance of putting Voss into his proper alien place proved too attractive to miss. All too often the Rodan had airs of superiority. The captain would be able to tell the alien how useless Voss was and how lucky he was that the captain was willing to give him a berth on the Rattlesnake. Baines jumped to his feet, and three swift paces brought him behind the engineer. Over a furry shoulder, the captain had a good view of the ship in question.

Baines had mixed feelings at the sight. The desire to tell Voss exactly what he thought of him was overwhelming. He hadn’t had a good screaming fit for ages, not since Lavinia became a beer bottle. Shouting helped restore bodily systems. It aided digestion and gave his lungs a terrific workout. He was on the verge of letting go, but a little fact took all the fun out of cursing the alien. The ship was the intergal liner Celestial Queen, the largest spaceship successfully launched and the size of a small planet, like Pluto. Or planetoid, the captain thought, whatever they’re calling Pluto these days. Over the centuries, Pluto’s status kept switching back and forth between planet and planetoid whenever there was a demand for new textbooks and field guides.

Built in the shape of a sphere, the Queen was capable of transporting millions of people along with all the trimmings: factories, homes, farms, pets, and cosmetics.

It’s glorious, the captain said quietly.

Nature’s perfect shape.

What are you talking about? What’s perfect about a sphere, Voss? Have you tried embracing one? Strictly speaking, I’d like something with arms and legs. Preferably two of each.

Two centuries ago, a break-away republic wanted a fresh start on a new planet that wasn’t totally polluted. Or did it want to get rid of troublesome neighbors without having to kill any? Or did it try to kill the neighbors but discovered the neighbors had better weapons? No matter, the republic had the money and skills necessary to build a ship in orbit around Earth, until authorities complained that the ship was pulling Earth’s tides out of whack. With its full load of passengers, cargo, and crew, the Queen took off earlier than its builders had anticipated: They hadn’t finished the ship’s navigation system, or so it was rumored.

Which republic? Baines tried to remember. Uruguay? Moldova? He recalled they couldn’t speak English. Maybe they were from Wales? None of the stories about the Queen agreed on the details of its first flight or of the people who were aboard, but all the sources confirmed the essential facts: The ship had millions of people—humans—and disappeared two hundred years ago. No one from any of the known star systems or deep-space ships had an inkling as to where the liner might be. Did the Queen implode, a black hole swallow it, or pirates ransack the immense ship? The Celestial Queen was the ultimate mystery—until now. It appeared in reasonably good shape, with hardly any visible scarring on its hull.

This could be your big opportunity, Sam—uh, Cap—to reclaim the human race.

Huh?

You know, a fresh start. With a million or more people aboard, you’ve the stock to repopulate Earth and the other planets. The Earth Empire could return in all its glory. You might get a promotion, be made an admiral or something.

Voss’s optimism annoyed Baines, but a part of him did toy with the prospect of being made an admiral. Not that he needed the Celestial Queen or its inhabitants for that. As the sole surviving person and human officer of Earth Fleet, he could make himself an admiral whenever he wished. However, it never fit quite right to call himself an admiral until he had two warships or more. He knew that day would come.

Baines contemplated what was known about the Queen’s passengers. There were two theories about them. The first and simplest was that they—two hundred years into its voyage—were all dead. Cryo chambers weren’t up to snuff back then. The second theory was that they were fruitful and multiplied. Ideas about colony ships living from generation to generation were popular. Food and air might not be that much of a problem, given the size of the ship and possibility of having extensive greenhouses and all that agricultural equipment.

The captain was okay with either theory. First and foremost he needed dead people. Dead women, to be exact, although he might be willing to make a once-in-a-lifetime exception, given his crew’s condition, and take on dead men. If the cryo chambers kept the bodies frozen but dead, that was fine. He wouldn’t mind if there were living people as well. Earth needed help in that regard, since the present population on the planet was zero. Anyone would do, and a million wouldn’t be a bad starting number. Besides which, the captain had a handy serum that would convert a questionably live human into a productive dead one. Baines rubbed his hands. He couldn’t lose.

Earth Fleet and Earth Empire have always relied on military ability first and people second. It’s the human way. Even so, I’m willing to split the difference with you. After we get a full amazon-zombie crew and sufficient backup to stock our freezers, we can begin repopulating. No sense in repopulating without the means to defend Earth.

Great, Voss said.

The alien’s lack of inflection surprised the captain. Well, it stood to reason. It wasn’t as if there were Rodans aboard the Queen. Who’d think the little alien would be jealous? Funny that he should miss his own kind that much. Voss might be more human than he seemed.

You did a fine job repairing the telephoto lens on our screens, Baines said. "The detail on the Celestial Queen is marvelous. It’s like I can reach out and touch the ship. And look at all those small ships and rocks orbiting it. The Celestial Queen picked up more than a few friends on its journeys, wherever they were, but more important, how did you manage to locate the liner?"

"Uh, Cap, you might say that the Queen did the finding. It’s heading straight toward us—at high speed."

Collision alarms rang throughout the Rattlesnake.

Chapter 2

Amazon-Zombies

While Voss raced through the sequences to turn off the collision alarm, Captain Baines hurriedly examined the instrument cluster. The wretched alien was correct. The Celestial Queen was bearing down on them at one-quarter light speed. They had less than an hour to get out of the way of the planetoid-size vessel. The main hope was to set the Rattlesnake’s course away from the direct path of the Queen and let the liner’s gravity field pull them into orbit around it. Unfortunately, the Rattlesnake’s secondary engines did not possess sufficient thrust. The secondaries were fine for puttering through planetary systems—as long as you weren’t in a particular hurry—but not to evade a planetoid hurtling at them.

Once the ringing in Baines’s ears reached a tolerable level, he said, "Have you signaled the Celestial Queen and asked them to change course?"

No one aboard has acknowledged my transmissions on any frequency. I’ve life sign readings, but I can’t determine whether they’re from crew members, passengers, or riffraff.

Riffraff?

"Yeah, anyone aboard the liner. Given the number of ships orbiting the Queen, people have to be around, but no one is on the control deck, if it has an intact control deck. That might have been destroyed ages ago."

After an internal debate, Baines said, "We have to stimulate the amazon-zombies. They’re our only chance to meet the Queen and survive."

Voss shuddered. "We don’t have sufficient time to ready the zombies. Our only hope is getting far enough away from the Queen’s course. If we swing too far out and miss the Queen’s gravity field, we can track its course and catch up later."

The promise of dead bodies, as well as an incredible amount of loot, grew large in the captain’s mind, and he shook his head. Negative. We don’t have the velocity to avoid a collision, and we don’t have enough amazon-zombies to plot a long jump. Our girls should be able to handle a short hop, enough to put us to one side and close enough to maintain orbit with our secondaries.

A sound like the wind rushing through a cemetery stopped both Baines and Voss.

Did you hear that? Baines asked.

I wish I hadn’t.

That was Lavinia. She’s trying to communicate.

"If that was Lavinia, she’s