Eno awoke and looked down at the small blue creature sprawled across his chest.
He smiled. Another night of completely dreamless sleep.
He felt great!
He resisted the urge to stroke her head and just lay there quietly looking at the ceiling.
Even the memories were gone.
He felt…
...absolutely nothing, and it was fantastic!
About fifteen minutes later Sheloran opened her eyes.
“Good morning,” she said, smiling.
“Morning,” Eno said as he smiled back. “I guess we need to get up now.”
“Ugh,” Sheloran said as she buried her face in his torso. “I don’t want to. Today is going to suck scum.”
“Why?” Eno asked. “We have nothing to do but coast for another two days.”
“You have nothing to do but coast,” Sheloran replied, looking vexed. “I get to spend the day bobbing for floaters!”
“What do you mean?” he asked, looking down at her.
“When I passed out, I got a huge pile of poop from some freaking ghost grunt-hump,” she replied, “And while I was sleeping, it all got untangled. I have to make some calls today to some people I do NOT want to talk to.”
“You got what from where?”
“It’s some of that stupid weird poop I have to deal with,” Sheloran replied with an annoyed snort, “Some ancient Plath witch went and yanked me out of my body to drop some nice fat ploppers into my bowl.”
She let out a wet raspberry from her gills, “I swear to poop. If she shows up again, I’m biting her.”
Eno just looked down at her in confusion.
“Apparently, there is some secret Plath order that is bent and determined to poop all over my world… well… poop all over your world, but I don’t want to have to deal with that scum.”
“What?!?”
“Yeah, they are making some sort of super disease to wipe all of you out,” Sheloran grumbled, “and I am the one who has to go and sort all of this out… Oh, she could bother to show up in my head, but she couldn’t make a little detour to talk to one of them? Of course not! Once again, I have to go and shovel out someone else’s barn.”
She sat up.
“I tell you, Eno,” she grumbled, “I’m getting really tired of this poop.”
“Okay...”
”Then I have to have a long heart-to-heart with Bunny, and that’s not going to be fun,” she grumbled.
“Bunny?”
“Oh,” she said, looking at him, “forget I said that. I just need to get her to get some information for me.”
“Okaaay...”
“Exactly what the fuck do you need to talk to me about?” a dubious voice asked from a speaker in the wall.
“Jesus pooping Prophet!” Sheloran snapped. “Is there no privacy on this ship?”
“Nope,” Bunny replied. “I see all. I know all, and considering the freaks on board, I really wish I didn’t. Let’s just say your little slumber parties are NOT what usually goes down around here… I also know everyone’s browser histories which is also something I could go an entire lifetime without knowing. You aren’t the freak on this ship! Trust me.”
There was another wet raspberry.
“So, what do you need to talk to me about?” Bunny asked.
“We need to speak in private… later...” Sheloran replied. “I’m pretty sure you don’t want to go into what I want to cover right now.”
“Okaaaay...” Bunny replied dubiously.
”Then I have to call my carp poop lawyer, and I really don’t want to talk to him anymore,” Sheloran grumbled. “Then I have to call Craxi and go over what is going on at the Drop… Then… well, you get the pooping idea. It’s going to be me trying to sweep a river all darn day.”
She hopped up.
“Let’s get some breakfast and a cup of tea,” Sheloran said, smoothing her t-shirt, “Then I will save the human race from jerkfaces even jerkier than you guys are.”
“Okaaaaay...” Eno and Bunny said in unison.
***
As a grumpy Sheloran was becoming progressively less grumpy thanks to a nice cup of tea, Sheila strode into the galley.
“What the fuck is this about another plague?” she asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Yeah,” Sheloran said nonchalantly, “The Plath shadow government has gotten tired of your poop. They are in the process of putting together some sort of whatever to deal with all of you. It seems that kidnapping Plath isn’t the healthiest thing to do.”
“They can do that?”
“They did it to the hyper-roaches.”
“...Fuck.”
“Yep,” Sheloran said as she calmly sipped her tea, “the poor little things didn’t last a month, and now they die as soon as one crawls out of a ship. It was really nasty, too. I actually felt sorry for them.”
“Jesus...” Eno gasped.
“What the hell are you waiting for?!?” Sheila exclaimed, her coffee forgotten, “Stop them!”
“I haven’t had breakfast yet,” Sheloran shrugged.
“Forget your fucking—“
“Tea,” Sheloran said firmly, “Waffles. Then, if I feel like it, I will deal with those jerkfaces.”
Sheila just groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Besides,” Sheloran said as she calmly sipped her tea, “they haven’t finished it yet.”
“Maybe you should stop them before they do?” Sheila said, taking deep calm steadying breaths.
“Oh, they are going to finish it,” Sheloran said as she swirled a forkful of waffle in some synth syrup. “I can only stop them from using it. You guys have really pinched their poopers from the inside this time.”
“I’m going to fucking kill Cerberus!” Sheila growled.
“Oh, they were just the last thing on the list,” Sheloran smiled, “You are on it too, you know. They know all about you waddlers.”
“They do?!?”
“Not your names,” Sheloran said as she crunched a freeze-dried strawberry. “but they do know you are Terran. Cerberus was just the final annoyance, that’s all. Don’t worry. As long as Terra doesn’t mess with them again, I can fix this… after breakfast. Prophet! I do NOT want to deal with those poop stains. You are lucky I actually like you buttfaces.”
She sipped her tea.
“Don’t worry about Cerberus,” she said as her eyes dilated fully black…
“They get to deal with me.”
***
On the Plath homeworld, in the Grand Cathedral of the Great Prophet, one of the few computers in the building made a ringing sound.
A Plath wearing richly embroidered robes answered.
“Yes,” he said pleasantly.
He froze.
“How did you get this number?!?” he demanded as he recognized the face on the screen.
“Put me in touch with the person in charge,” Sheloran demanded.
“Begone, Child of the Befouler!” he shouted. “And never—“
Sheloran blinked, and her eyes shone with swirling madness.
“Put me through to the real person in charge… now,” Sheloran hissed, “If you don’t, I will come back and find him myself.”
“One… one moment… please...” The Bearer of the Prophet’s Wisdom, nominally the “person in charge”, stammered and ran off, his heavy robe flopping as he sprinted.
A few minutes later, he reappeared.
“I’m… I’m transferring your call now,” he said, quite shaken.
The screen blacked out for a moment, and the terrified face of the Plath Pope was replaced with a pleasant-looking older Plath wearing spectacles.
“Hello, Sheloran,” he said, nodding his head respectfully, “My name is Malshora. I am known as ‘The Librarian’. I maintain The Archive. I am sorry to say that there is not one person in charge, but I do sit on a certain council, the entirety of which would roughly meet the criteria that you specified. I must say I am delighted you called.”
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
“The feeling isn’t mutual,” Sheloran said as her eyes returned to normal.
“The fires of true sight,” The Librarian said in wonder, “truly amazing. You have truly awakened.”
“And I am just pooping thrilled about it, too,” Sheloran grumbled. “Call off the plague. I will deal with Cerberus.”
“How… how did you know...”
“Some glowing jerkface told me,” Sheloran replied.
“You have received a visitation?!?” The Librarian gasped. “What did it say? Please! Tell me!”
“Just call off the pooping plague,” Sheloran snapped. “I will deal with Cerberus. After I’m done with those poops, they won’t be bothering anybody ever again.”
“Of course,” The Librarian replied, “It is only being prepared as a contingency in case you failed. We would not presume to interfere if you have chosen to get involved.”
He straightened his glasses.
“We will take no action unless you fall or you specifically request it,” he said with a respectful nod.
“Good,” Sheloran snarled. “Give me your contact info, so I don’t have to deal with your cross-stitch puppet boy next time.”
“Contacting us directly is… problematic,” The Librarian replied. “There is not a direct connection between The Archive and the outside world. The Bearer will have no issue with either relaying messages from you or getting one of us whenever you wish.”
Sheloran let out another wet blat from her gills.
“I do apologize,” he said, “but conventional communications terminals can be located, and The Archive must be protected.”
“Whatever,” Sheloran grumbled. “Fine, I will talk to the pooping church if I need to, not that I am planning on it.”
“We would appreciate notification that the problem has been dealt with,” The Librarian replied, “so we can properly preserve the cultures.”
“I said they would be handled,” Sheloran growled as her eyes dilated into complete blackness.
“And the warrior’s aspect!” The Librarian gasped, falling to his knees.
“Oh, for poop’s sake,” Sheloran sighed as she facepalmed.
“You are the true incarnation!”
“I am the true ‘getting tired of this poop’,” Sheloran grumbled, “Get up, jerkface. I’m not talking to the top of your head.”
“Yes… Yes, of course… Dark Guardian,” The Librarian said in awe as he rose.
“My name is Sheloran,” she snapped, “Just ‘Sheloran’, no ‘Dark Guardian’, no weird chanting, no ‘Child of the Befouler’, none of that poop. Just call off the prophet-dammed plague! If you jerkfaces kill off the humans, I am going to be pissed, and you do NOT want that!”
“The plague is yours to command… Sheloran...”
“Good,” Sheloran replied, “Then I command you to flush it down…”
Her eyes glowed.
She sighed and facepalmed.
“No. Finish development and preserve it. We might have need of it.”
“SHELORAN, WHAT THE FUCK?!?” Sheila shouted over the intercom.
“I’m ON the phone!” Sheloran shouted back. “Sorry about that, Librarian. Humans have no manners.”
“Sheloran...” Shelia said in a dangerous tone.
“You, and I mean you specifically, raided our world and shot up a town, my town. Some of those people were really nice… well... marginally okay guys, too. At the very least, they weren’t so bad that they deserved what happened to them. Then, yet more Terrans violated our homeworld and kidnapped our people to do Prophet knows what to them,” Sheloran replied calmly. “We are just supposed to lie down and take that? Would you Terrans? You have your warships, and we have a tiny little vial… and me, of course. Deal with it… or don’t. I’m past giving a poop. They aren’t going to use it unless they have to, and I will personally see to it that they won’t have to. Now get off the pooping line! I can only deal with one jerkface at a pooping time.”
“...”
(click)
“They also flooded our world with their detestable games,” The Librarian added.
“Oh that wasn’t them,” Sheloran replied dismissively. “Those were from me… until some other jerks burned down my servers!”
“What?!?”
“A girl has to pay the bills, and you can all grunt-hump your mother’s eggs,” she growled. “I have no love for any of you turds. I’m just the croaker that has to clean up all of this mess so I can get back to some semblance of a normal life. Don’t think for one second that you are ‘my people’ or that we are on the same side.”
“I know you haven’t been treated especially well by those who slumber...”
“Oh, that’s just the tip of the poopberg!” Sheloran snapped. “Do you know?”
“I know many things,” The Librarian replied cautiously, “What—“
“Skip the scum, four-eyes,” Sheloran snapped. “Your precious archive, how far does it go back?”
“Well, to the beginning.”
“Do you know about the so-called ‘Great Work’?” she hissed, “Do you know what we did?”
The Librarian flinched.
“So you are...”
“Yeah, motherpooper, I am,” Sheloran growled. “Stop petting your sperm and answer my pooping question! Do. You. Know?”
“Yes,” The Librarian sighed. “I know the whole story. I know of our great sin.”
“So you do consider it a sin, then?”
“I assume you are referring to what lived here before we arrived?” The Librarian said gravely, “Then, yes, I do. We all do. I believe that what followed was the Great and Old Ones’ punishment. You nearly destroyed the Great Work and did eliminate both the warriors and the seers, freeing us from their tyranny.”
He sighed again and looked down.
“I fail to understand,” he said. “Their power was… near divine. They could have chosen any world. They could have even breathed life into a barren rock if they wished. Why did they murder an entire race and destroy an entire living planet over something so trivial? Why would the great progenitors create such… monsters?”
“Oh, the progenitors knew exactly what they were making,” Sheloran snapped, “They were even bigger jerkfaces.”
“You likely know more of them than I,” The Librarian replied gravely, “My knowledge only covers our time on this world with any depth. The only things we have from the time before consist of only fragments and second-hand accounts.”
“What,” Sheloran sneered, “no squeaks of ‘blasphemy’?”
He finally looked up and met her gaze once more.
“You can either maintain the bible, or you can worship it,” The Librarian replied. “You can either protect the slumber, or you can close your eyes and dream. I surrendered the comfort of the warm and soft blanket of faith the moment I joined the order so very long ago. We keep the hard truths, the cold and wicked realities, and, sometimes, make the very dark decisions that keep our people safe, safe from themselves.”
“Decisions like covering me with dirt like an overused outhouse?”
“You affected your own rescue long before we even knew exactly who you were,” The Librarian smiled, “Just as the prophecy foretold...”
“Pooping prophecy...” Sheloran grumbled.
“We would have rushed to you had we known who you were and hadn’t already left the system,” he said. “You would have been welcome among us. All of the orders would have fought to be the ones to welcome you into their number. Sheloran, you had a place with us. You just did not know.”
“Of course,” Sheloran said with a wet “blat”, “Of pooping course. Why would it be any other flushing way?”
“And you can return if anytime you desire,” The Librarian said, “Though I know you will not.”
“Is that in the pooping prophecy, too?”
“I am very sorry to say that it is,” he smiled, “It says that you will remain lurking in the darkness at the end of days to guard our world and wage a final battle with those who have hunted us for so long, freeing us forever.”
“Well fuck you and your prophecy!”
The Librarian gasped despite himself at the harsh language. It seemed that the second coming had quite the mouth on her. (If it wasn’t already quite obvious.)
“If I do any of that poop,” Sheloran continued angrily, “It is because I did it by accident! You can handle whatever is looking for you yourselves!”
“I suspect it will be by ‘accident’,” The Librarian replied with a smile. “The prophecy has been one hundred percent accurate thus far.”
This earned him a very long and very wet raspberry.
He laughed.
“And despite you disowning us,” he said, “as foretold, by the way, we will not disown you. We will support and assist you in any way we can, as long as it doesn’t threaten the sacred slumber. None of us want what will happen if it breaks nor what we will have to do in order to prevent it.”
“And just what is that?” Sheloran demanded.
“You think poorly enough of us as it is,” The Librarian replied gravely, “I will withhold that information for now… until you calm down at least.”
“I’m not sure if my opinion of you could get much lower,” Sheloran sneered.
“Oh, but it can, I assure you,” The Librarian replied ruefully, “For now, let us just say that we will do anything necessary to ensure that those who slumber do not awaken… and we have more than once.”
“More than once?”
“The year is not twenty-five thousand two-hundred and three,” he said sadly. “It is three-million four-hundred and seventy-six thousand, five-hundred and ninety-two.”
“What?!?”
“It’s just been twenty-five thousand years since the last time we had to do… something...” he said darkly. “and whatever that was effectively reset the calendar… again...”
He looked deeply into Sheloran’s eyes with his own, causing her to shudder for once.
“The slumber must be preserved,” he said heavily. “If you search the knowledge with which you were born, you should realize why.”
“Poooooop...” Sheloran replied. “I am not the monster here.”
“No, you are not,” The Librarian replied. “Not by a long shot. Killing an entire species is nothing compared to what we will do if necessary. We will wipe the entire galaxy clean before we allow the slumber to break, or at least try to.”
He looked into Sheloran with entirely too sane eyes.
“You might not think of us as ‘your people’,” he said calmly, “but it behooves you to assist us in protecting that slumber whether you want to or not. You will likely be more… merciful… than we will.”
“You son of a poop.”
“Well spotted,” The Librarian replied. “Speaking of protecting the slumber,” he said with that same calm, “We would greatly appreciate it if you ceased the flow of games and media to the gamers. They are becoming increasingly… problematic…”
“Now those are my people,” Sheloran hissed, ”and they are one of my biggest sources of income. I am not cutting them off just because you are afraid of Tetris.”
“If they are your people,” The Librarian replied, “then you will want them to go back to sleep… before we are forced to take action. As I have said before, the slumber will be preserved. Their skills are impressive, but they will not prevail against our guardians.”
Sheloran hissed at him, knowing that he was entirely accurate.
“They have been allowed to exist up until this point,” The Librarian said, “But some of their number are starting to awaken like you have. They aren’t as powerful as you, but they can not be allowed to run free.”
“What have you done to them?”
“Thus far,” The Librarian replied, “We have simply been cloistering the awakened where they are allowed to indulge in their… appetites… We have also been recruiting heavily from their ranks. They are infusing all of the orders with a much-needed injection of fresh blood. None of them have been mistreated, both because that is completely unnecessary and because we have no wish to put you in a position where you would feel the need to get involved. Besides, it is simply not our way. We aren’t like that. We simply do what must be done, that’s all. Pointless cruelty serves no one.”
Sheloran did a Marge Simpson grumble but remained silent. The slimy little poop had a point. The slumber had to be preserved, and her gamers were being well treated…
...if he was speaking the truth…
“I will need to verify that,” Sheloran said grimly.
“We will provide any evidence you request,” The Librarian replied, “including safe passage to and from here to verify their situation personally, not that we would need to guarantee that. You are more than capable of guaranteeing that yourself.”
“Damn right I am,” Sheloran hissed.
“As far as compensation for your losses,” The Librarian replied, “We are not without means. We will pay you handsomely in credits, far more than you will lose, should you agree. You will also earn our complete support without reservation. That includes medical support by our healers, herbs, any seeds you wish, full access to The Archives, the real Bible including the Black Bible...”
“The Black Bible?”
“Let’s just say that the true entirety of ‘The Bible’ is significantly larger than thirty-two volumes,” The Librarian replied, “And I personally maintain it all. It includes all of the abilities and technology that we use to protect the slumber. It isn’t what The Great and Old Ones had, but I can assure you that you will find it very useful. Can you read True Plath?”
“Dude, I just went to normal Plath school, which sucks, by the way.”
“As they say, ignorance is bliss,” The Librarian replied, “Those who slumber know all they need. It’s only those who rob banks and then charge off to the Republic who find themselves at any real disadvantage.”
“Fuck you,” Sheloran replied, smiling for the first time since she called. She was starting to like this guy despite herself.
She realized that he was, in many ways, as utterly alone as she was…
...and had a significantly crappier task than she did.
“You do need those herbs, though.” The Librarian replied, “those will be provided regardless of whether you agree or not, as will some of our support. Your continued well-being serves the slumber.”
Sheloran fell silent for a few moments.
“You mentioned credits,” she said. “How many credits are we talking about.”
“Based on our intelligence,” The Librarian replied, “I believe that twenty-five million should more than replace many years of poaching, over-harvesting, bootlegging, and drug sales. Thank you for all of that, by the way.”
“Don’t mention it,” Sheloran smiled, “You, dear Librarian, have a deal. I assume that you can get across the Republic blockade.”
“Our connections can,” The Librarian replied. “All of those will also be available to you as well, and they are significant. I won’t name them until we can speak truly privately. Our connections will provide the means for you to do so as well.”
“I still don’t like you jerkfaces.”
“You don’t have to.”
He smiled.
Sheloran smiled back.
“I’ve made worse deals with worse people,” she said. “I also suspect that I will be making deals with even worse people in the future. I’ll hold off on resuming my media sales to the Plath for now. I really just want to sell coffee...”
She sighed and facepalmed.
“...and run a pooping brothel...”
The Librarian laughed.
“Now, that was not in the prophecy.”
“Oh poop,” Sheloran laughed, “you mean I did that on my own?!?”