Starship of Fools

By Nara Strete

National lampoon meets Star Trek meets hitchhikers guide meets Monty Python meets, well, Francis Flattener.

Francis Flattener, twenty-five, unmarried, unemployed, and a burden on her family. And Royalty (with a capital R). Having, among other things, bankrupted planets, caused wars, poached endangered species to near extinction, and (allegedly) caused the great sewage backup of '43, the royal court of the planet Kodargan and Supreme Council have decided that Something Must Be Done. That Something is either to exile her to the guano mines of Flatulanto 5, or to assign her as Captain of a starship with crew of other adorably deranged misfits and task them with finding something unfindable, to wit, the End of the Universe. Based on the title of the book, you're welcome to take a guess which. Or you can read the book and laugh your ass off. Your choice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ReAnimus Press
• Release date: Oct 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005151997

Book preview

STARSHIP OF FOOLS

by

NARA STRETE

Produced by ReAnimus Press

© 2021 by Nara Strete. All rights reserved.

https://ReAnimus.com/store?author=Nara+Strete

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.

Table of 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 1

Captain Francis Flattener

In the year 2045 on planet Kodargan the supreme council of the Durgans had assembled for what most historians call the most pointless case in all history.

It was the case of Francis Flattener. Francis was twenty five years of age, unmarried and unemployed. Francis had become such a burden on her family, who happened to be Royalty with a capital R, that they called a council meeting in order to deal with her.

However not much good ever came from that meeting, since nothing good had ever come from Francis to begin with. The result of the court’s ruling would actually prove to put the safety of the galaxy in peril several times over.

The case went as follows:

It was around 3:30 in the afternoon when the royal guards roused Francis, who was late for her trial, from her sleep. There was a slight delay when she refused to dress for the court.

Francis said, Bunny slippers and a bath robe are more than appropriate for the occasion.

But the guards didn’t see it that way.

There was a bit of a struggle and a chase that led out into the palace garden. Eventually the guards coaxed Francis into climbing out of the royal Durga tree in her yard and getting dressed.

The guards placated her with a bar of chocolate. They removed two blasters and a machine gun. Only when they had removed a hidden hand grenade and a pen knife with a laser beam, did her guards feel confident that they could bring her safely to trial. Just to be sure though they gave her a weak tranquilizer to keep her from hurting anyone.

Francis’s goody-two-shoes nephew Fred Flattener was forced to accompany her to the trial. He was the King and Queen’s favorite. Fred was the most cultured and well behaved of the Royal princes. It was his job to play a role model to those in the family who were more than a little rowdy. It was the King’s hope that he could make Francis act a little more civilized in front of the council members.

The guards finally dragged Francis Flattener into the courtroom and sat her down and the trial began.

King Kaan addressed his council wearing the traditional kilt of the Durgans. He farted once loudly to bring them all to attention.

Lords and Ladies of the Supreme Council I thank you all for coming here on such short notice. I would also like to apologize for making you wait. It is unfortunate that we have encountered a few difficulties.

At this point he was interrupted by snickering from Francis. Fred elbowed her in the ribs to shut her up and Francis stomped on his foot in reply. This elicited a disapproving murmur from the nobles in the council. The king cleared his throat and spat on his niece who was well pleased by the attention. The king continued, As I was saying I apologize for the delay but Francis Flattener is an idiot!

The king signaled to the Head of The Supreme Council who stood up with his head held snobbishly high and cleared his throat extensively. He too spat on the king’s nice so she was evenly spit on.

Your Highness, it is at my understanding that Miss Francis Flattener has become quite a problem for our planet.

He unfurled a scroll of complaints that rolled out like a red carpet at the Oscars only twice as long.

Ahem, according to these records our nation’s deficit problems are all thanks to Miss Francis. She has bankrupted the entire planet with a giant ponzi scheme based on ping pong balls as food. She seems to be responsible for causing the Wextilian War, not to mention she has wrecked five royal military craft. Francis kidnapped a foreign diplomat from the planet of the Slaughtering Rat People and poached an endangered species of space wasp to near extinction. He looked up from the scroll he was reading and then looked back down at it. He continued. It is also my belief that she caused the great sewage backup of ‘43, he drawled. And that’s the smelly version.

Francis thought it would be responsible to comment on that. She clapped loudly and boisterously. She was perhaps a little overmedicated.

The list goes on and on. It is my belief that Miss Francis Flattener should be exiled from this planet for the sake of our well-being!

Well, what do you suggest we do? Who would want her? the King inquired.

The Head Councilman glared at Francis. Well, if this was still year 2005, I’d say a good lynching was in order; however, times have changed. So instead, I think it would be advisable to send her off to the guano mines on Flatulanto 5.

Francis launched out of her seat and dropped to the Head Councilman’s feet. Oh please, don’t send me to the guano mines! I got so much to live for! I got hopes! I got dreams! I’ve still got frozen burritos in the freezer! Ya can’t do this too me, she sobbed. The noble rolled his eyes and sighed in an exaggerated fashion.

"Perhaps your nephew has a less harsh suggestion. Since you have sooooo much going on for you in your life," the noble said, his voice oozing with sarcasm.

Well, I think Francis just needs something to keep herself busy so she won’t have the time to cause trouble, said Fred in a very persuasive tone. Let’s give her a job where she will be out of harm’s way.

Fred was a very kind person but perhaps a little too kind when it came to issues such as this. The king frowned at the young prince.

Are you sure that would be wise? It is Francis we are talking about here.

Well, I have a rather special job in mind, said Fred. One where she won’t be a bother to us anymore. Let’s revoke her citizenship and assign her as a starship captain. We’ll send her to the end of the universe. She can’t wreck what she can’t find. The end of the universe is unknowable. Let her confusion be our consolation. It’s a lose-lose situation and she belongs there.

The council murmured amongst themselves for a few minutes.

Well? Has the council come to a decision? asked the King. Or should we just call the whole thing off and have her be forever a poop pumper?

As much as we all would like to see her shoveling feces for the rest of her life, we have unanimously agreed that the life of a starship captain would be much more suitable, they said. After all, she is still royalty and with the end of the universe as her final destination, now she is royally screwed!

And with that fateful decision the council unwittingly put the entire galaxy’s future at stake. But the king was not that stupid as to let Francis do anything on her own.

As much as I hate to do this, I am going to send Fred Flattener along with her to make sure she stays out of trouble. Frederic Flattener, you are welcome to return to Kodargan in the event that Francis is somehow killed on the job or dies of old age. However until the crazy captain drops dead, you are to remain in her service no matter what.

Fred sat in stunned silence as the council was adjourned. There must be some mistake! He made his way out the courtroom doors with the harried look of a laser-burn victim. He was equally screwed and he knew it.

Hey, isn’t this great? Francis Flattener said with a big stupid grin on her face. We’re gonna be star shippers! She playfully slugged Fred in the gut and he slumped onto the ground.

Yeah. Just peachy, he gasped. I’ll iron my best bulletproof suit. I’ll need it where we’re going.

And so Francis was given her own ship and a crew of assorted losers. Her ship was an old Yarrafian junk ship that was constructed to look suspiciously like a giant nose. It smelled like one too.

Francis named it The Starsniffer.

Francis and Fred went to meet their crew at the royal ship port. Captain Flattener was dressed in full napoleonesque attire, complete with a napoleon hat and an eye patch over her left eye just for cinematic effect. An odd gaggle of characters stood before the ship, anxiously waiting and uneasily shifting in place as the captain’s eye roamed across their faces.

She was a rather threatening figure with wild wavy green hair. Her pale blue skin was marred with lewd tattoos. There was a spark in her one visible eye that somewhat unnerved the crew. Also, when Francis smiled her irregularly long canines and slightly crooked razor-sharp front teeth gleamed like those of a rabid dog.

There was a noble waiting with the crew and as he saw Francis, he cleared his throat to get her attention. When this failed to work, he pulled a bullhorn out of his robes and let it blast straight into the captain’s ear. She stood and just blinked for a moment, apparently stunned. Then she turned her gaze in his direction, only to be distracted by a shiny medal on the noble’s robe.

"Greetings, captain Flattener! said the noble, no longer speaking through the bullhorn. I would like to introduce you to your crew. It is essential that you know a little background about your crew. It is certain that you will spend the rest of your life with them so PAY ATTENTION."

Hey, yeah, okay. Sure, Francis said, her gaze still fixed on the shiny medal.

This is Julian Hork, the ship’s mechanic and also the cook. The noble gestured to a big slow-looking fellow who appeared to be some cross between a steer and a dinosaur. I can assure you that he has ample experience in both fields.

Pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain, Hork boomed. Whether I’m cooking or fixin’ up the ship, either way I’ll be up to my elbows in grease.

Next is Giggles. He pilots the ship.

Giggles was a man who resembled an angelic donkey but only because of his wings. For the most part he was filthy and unwashed with an apathetic look to him that could make an over-caffeinated hummingbird feel lethargic.

Yes, what a wonderful, joyful day, working for yet another genius like yourself, captain. His voice was nasal, sarcastic and suspiciously British sounding. I am thrilled, no less.

When he talked his big, crooked, yellow teeth seemed to ooze saliva filled with chewed-up potato chips, which he was constantly munching from a big bag he kept at his side at all times. He was being sarcastic and he didn’t care who knew it. Francis was an idiot.

Francis, being naturally daft, mistook his sarcasm for a true compliment. She gave him a good-natured slug in the shoulder. Her fist was immediately smeared with grease and donkey hair, which she wiped on his already filthy tank top.

Giggles’ tank top was white when he bought it sixteen years ago but now it was sort of one big all-consuming stain made of god-knows-what.

The noble moved on to introduce a less nauseating character. In fact, he was quite the opposite of nauseating, unless he started reading his poetry out loud.

This is Socks, an Earthling. Apparently, he’s doing some time as a crew member for minor crimes on his planet. The noble pulled out a clipboard with several disorganized pieces of paper attached to it. Let’s see here, he said, rustling through the sheets of paper. Ah, here we go. You should keep an eye on this fellow. It says here that he’s been arrested for reading poetry in public places, using long poetic sentences, littering and sodomy.

Every male there involuntarily took a step back from Socks, except for Giggles who lived by the philosophy of whatever happens happens.

Oh, um. The noble placed a pair of reading glasses upon his nose. "I’m sorry, that last one’s a typo.... that would be: poetry in public places, poetic sentences, littering and theft of a small keychain from a gift shop in Connecticut. My apologies!"

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief with the exception of Giggles and Francis, who was always up for an opportunity to make jokes that were politically incorrect.

Socks, as one can only imagine, was of course immensely relieved too. With all the rumors that had gone on in high school, the last thing he needed was more rumors at his new, forced job. He was thin and rather non-masculine with his long blond hair and his sensitive poetic personality. A lot of horrible things had been said about Socks, more so by his family than his friends.

It was hard living in a tough, manly family when one was so sensitive. His father was a police chief. His seven brothers were all policemen, construction workers or football players. His sister was a lumberjack.

What exactly does he do? inquired Fred.

He restocks the pork rinds in the vending machine, the noble said.

Ah, said Francis. It explained a lot.

There’s one more crew member arriving shortly.

At that very moment two burly men in white brought in a figure in a straight jacket.

Oh good! The ship’s doctor is here. I’m pleased to introduce, Dr. Mew.

The figure’s face was obscured by her long, stringy, pink hair as she stood hunched over like a circus freak. The men in white removed the jacket and stepped back cautiously.

Dr. Mew stood up to her full height and brushed the hair from her face. She was a Fennkarl, a sort of feline creature with features very similar to those of a Siamese cat. Her eyes were almond shaped and slanted in such a manner that her eyes were almost always crossed. It gave her a comically deranged expression.

She moved over to where the rest of the crew was standing and took her place silently amongst them. Dr. Mew was not one for fancy introductions, since most already knew her legacy. She had a well-known reputation for beings the least successful mad scientist in the entire universe.

All her attempts at crime had ended in failure. The only place she had ever been able to effectively cause mass destruction was when she was in the Academy for Mad Scientists. Because this mass destruction was caused in the cafeteria, she was kicked out of the Academy. Finally, she was arrested for her counterfeiting machine. Not because the machine worked but because the police felt sorry for her, since she was the only mad scientist who was unable to start up an arrest record.

Not a single hundred dollar bill had been duplicated. However, the machine was very good at changing twenty dollar bills into giant acorns. Mew was able to pay the bail after selling her machine to the Squirrel People of Rodentia 4.

Now, after spending a small amount of time vacationing at an insane asylum, she was back to commit more crimes. Or attempt them anyway.

Well, said the noble, now that you’ve met the crew, you can all sod off.

Aren’t you forgetting something? said an elegant, educated voice. A handsome reptilian with a haughty expression stood impatiently awaiting his introduction.

Oh, yes, you’re right. I would like to remind everyone that the vending machines only takes exact change, said the noble.

With those last words of advice the noble left to get sodding drunk. Contact with his unequals had been extremely unpleasant.

This poor, ignored fellow was Hirtesque Nomello Waterbury-Heathcliffe III. He was a respected reptilian in his early thirties of good breeding and character.

Hirtesque had expected more from his life when he had signed up to be the Translator for a Royal Captain. He was fluent in over three hundred languages, a graduate from the esteemed Kingsleydale Intergalactic Academy and a proud member of The Snobbish Gentlemen’s Society. His father was a rich and respected lawyer, his mother a professor at Omicron Sectai 9’s Yale, and his family descended from a long line of venerable doctors, lawyers, scientists, psychologists and child molesters.

He at least deserved a proper introduction to his new colleagues, Hirtesque thought.

He was used to getting a lot of attention, so it hurt him deeply that no one had even acknowledged his existence since he arrived. His intelligence and beauty were impeccable and his ego was swollen. Hirtesque was a tall reptilian of a medium frame with a toned muscular body. His skin