Slowly fading away, what remained of the Heretic shot through the timeless void. "Time" worked very differently where she was traveling, and she now lacked mass, which made time even less relevant.

Still… She did not have "forever" to accomplish all she needed to accomplish before the true end.

There was an infinity of infinities laying out before her, and she had to find an exact point, an exact intersection of "when" and "where" in a realm where neither had very much meaning in the first place.

She smiled. It didn't matter.

She was no longer restrained. There was no crude vessel left behind that she had to maintain a connection to. While there was no longer any going back, she could go forward as she never could before.

Also, where she had previously been blindly fumbling about, she now had very precise information thanks to her "sister".

She even had a name…

Sheloran!

Throwing caution to the wind, she hurled herself into the abyss.

***

Lounging on their ship, a gang of miscreants looked at a map of the Federation.

"We need some podunk backwater," Sheila mused, "The more backward, the better."

"This is the Federation we are talking about here," Jessie snerked, "That doesn't really narrow it down much."

"Look for someplace way off the beaten path," Sheila said as she looked at a list of systems. "We need as soft a target as we can find."

Gloria's eyes glazed for a moment as she shivered slightly.

"What about there?" she asked. "I've never even heard of a Plath before."

"Jessie?" Sheila asked as she opened a beer.

Jessie's eyes sparkled as she reviewed the system's stats.

"It's perfect!" Jessie bubbled happily.

***

A young innocent Plath stared in horror at the holo-vid screen…

We have engaged the services of Federation Intelligence in determining the source of the horrid unclean Terran game known as "Federation Fun Time," and we swear that we will find who has befouled our world with its fetid oil. When we locate, and we WILL locate the Plath responsible for this outrage, they will be CLOISTERED until the end of their days!

The young Plath slumped into her chair, gasping for breath. They were already tracing the trades, somehow. Gamers she had known for years were getting snatched off the streets and questioned.

Not all of them were released afterwards.

Plath were going to prison over this.

She was going to jail for pooping life!

"Oh, Prophet," she squeaked, "what am I going to do?"

What you are going to do, a strange voice said in her head, Is get the FUCK out of here.

Sheloran gasped at the strange intrusive thought.

It was right!

She had to leave right now! She had to run!

***

On a world far from the crash and bang of the great powers, there stood a city made of impossible towers of crystal and light.

In the center of this amazing landscape stood a large park where a small cluster of ancient buildings was lovingly maintained and covered by a huge crystal dome.

In the center of this ruin was a statue of a small, frail-looking Plath…

In front of it, "something" paused.

It smiled though none of the visitors of this sacred place could see her.

She looked about. Her old tower still remained!

How did they manage to pull that one off? By her estimations, millions of years had passed. There was "conservation," and then there was this…

… It was magnificent! Considering the beings that had accomplished it, she shouldn't have been too surprised. They always were far better than her kind.

She looked at them as they walked along the polished stones. They had changed, of course. Millions of years would do that. However, they were still her beloved Tol.

She had been right. They had not only survived, but they thrived.

She wished to explore, to see everything they had achieved, but she could not.

There was little time.

She shot over to her tower and into her old office.

It had been preserved exactly as she had left it. Some things had turned to dust, and others had obviously been painstakingly conserved to the finest detail.

One thing, however, was still original. In the corner of the tower stood a plain rectangular wooden post of heartwood made from her mothership. It was one of the only things that she could trust to last the test of time…

...and it had.

She reached out and "touched" it.

At her touch, it sprung to life. From its center rose a small octagonal column covered with intricate designs…

… and inside that, there was a small tablet inscribed with runes, one final message.

An invisible being paused and looked out the window.

"Goodbye, my wonderful children," she whispered…

...and then it sped away.

***

Today…

T'sunk'al staggered out of the large storage room he had commandeered for the latest insane jump he had been tasked to plot and staggered into the galley.

He smiled blearily at Sheila as he walked over to a cabinet and took out some tea and a cup noodle.

"How goes the jump?" Sheila asked as she sipped her coffee.

"It's as good as it's going to get," T'sunk'al shrugged. "Are you sure there is something there?"

"Yep," Sheila replied. "It's not on any chart, but it's there."

"And people actually jump to it?"

"They usually leapfrog from waypoint to waypoint within the system," Sheila said with a smirk, "Nobody jumps to it from outside the system. That would be insane."

"It actually is," T'sunk'al replied nonchalantly. "This is as close to a void jump as you can get without it being a void jump."

"You can do it, right?" Sheila asked.

"I've actually done real void jumps at longer ranges," T'sunk'al replied as he plopped a tea bag into a cup of steaming water. "Of course I can, but just because one can doesn't mean one should."

"It's not like we have much choice," Sheila shrugged, "MAGA is the only place where we are guaranteed safe harbor right now. I don't even trust independent space as hot as we are."

"But MAGA is in Sol," T'sunk'al said with his trademark calm, "If you mistrust independent space, how can you be so certain that the Republic won't be waiting for us when we arrive?"

"Yeah, it's in Sol… technically," Sheila smiled, "But it's almost a light year out from anything close to 'civilization,' and the Republic will not go there. Trust me."

"But they are everywhere else, even Nemesis and Quaoar."

"Yeah, but even the Chuckies aren't the MAGAs," Sheila chuckled as she finished her cup. "If the Republic were there, we could see the shooting from here, dude. The Republic isn't going to go to war with the whole fucking belt, even for us."

"The whole belt?"

"The MAGAs are some of the original 'Kuipers' if you can even call them Kuipers anymore. Everyone either owes them some serious favors, depends on them for supplies, or respects the hell out of them, probably all three. If the Republic goes after MAGA, the whole belt will take it as an attack on their 'sovereignty,' and if you think the Kuiper belt is bad, it has nothing on the Oort Cloud. The people out there are… well…"

Sheila pondered things for a moment.

"You know how the Federation views Terrans? Well, the Oort Cloud is our Terrans. It's just best to leave them alone, and technically, since they are outside of the heliosphere, they aren't even officially part of Sol anyhow. What the Republic is going to do is just what they are doing, patrol the approaches to MAGA space but actually leave those crazy inbred fuckers alone. We get to MAGA, and we are home free."

T'sunk'al sipped his tea as he waited for his noodles to steep.

"If they are that… um… Terran..." T'sunk'al said as he checked the timer he set for his meal, "Will we be safe there?"

"Sure," Sheila replied, "They are some of the nicest people you will ever meet… mostly..."

"Mostly?" T'sunk'al asked with a dubious flick of his eight remaining eyestalks.

"You'll see," Sheila smirked, "You are right, though. It can be difficult establishing yourself with them, but..."

At that moment, Jessie burst into the galley wearing a pair of entirely too short cutoff blue-jean shorts, a huge holographic red, white, and blue belt buckle emblazoned with the word "Brandon", a tight sleeveless red, white and blue t-shirt with a bald eagle, a straw hat, and holographic rhinestone-encrusted cowboy boots.

"GitRdun!" she shouted, "Y'all fixin t' jump r whut?"

"As you can see," Shelia grinned as T'sunk'al tried to recover from the fashion war crime that had just assaulted him, "We have an inside connection."

"Wooo!" Jessie shouted as she danced around happily, "MAGA!"

***

"This is going to be awesome!!!" Jessie bubbled, absolutely beside herself as the ship prepared for jump.

"It's definitely going to be something," Greg replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Who is 'Brandon'?" Sheloran asked as she settled into a seat on the bridge.

"Oh, it's a MAGA word!" Jessie exclaimed, "It means 'asshole' or 'son of a bitch’ or something like that!"

"Are you from this MAGA space?" Sheloran asked curiously.

"Nah!" Jessie exclaimed, vibrating with excitement, "I just had to hide out there for a couple of years!"

"Black hackers, especially good ones like us," Bunny said proudly, "Are public enemy number one! Everyone wants a piece of you, both the law and normal hackers alike. We had to keep a very low profile, and when we… kinda fucked that up… we had to get as far away from the law as we could, which was why we went to where we are going now, for exactly the same reason."

"Sheila and the guys picked me up at Hobby Lobby!" Jessie exclaimed. "That's where I worked before I joined the crew!"

"Which worked out quite well for us," Sheila said over her shoulder. "especially since some of her old 'family' are who agreed to let us dock."

"Oh, you will LOVE them!" Jessie exclaimed, bouncing up and down in her seat. "They are just the nicest people!"

"Yeah, they all are..." Eno grumbled as everyone except T'sunk'al and Sheloran snickered.

"They are!" Jessie insisted.

"Mmm hmm..." Sheila replied. "Lovely people..."

"Sheila!" Jessie huffed. "Yah jes gotta get t' know them proper."

"Jessie," Sheila said firmly, "If you don't stop talking like that, I swear to fuck..."

Jessie giggled.

"Ok, everyone," T'sunk'al said, "we are approaching our window. Jump in 3… 2… 1… Jump!"

The Paper Tiger slid into hyperspace without even a shudder.

"Damn," Gloria sighed, "T, I never get tired of that."

"Let's just hope it's as smooth on the other end," T'sunk'al replied, "and remotely close to our target."

Everyone unbuckled themselves from the flight chairs.

"Well, we have a few days to kill," Gloria said as she got up. "Hey, Sheloran, how about we head down to my ship and… Sheloran?"

Sheloran was just standing there with her eyes closed…

They popped open, glowing with swirls of impossible colors.

With a little "eep," she fell to the floor.

"Great," Sheila muttered, "now what?"

***

Sheloran blinked.

Where am I, she thought as she looked around and saw nothing but strange swirling mist.

She wasn't alone.

Floating before her was a faintly luminous old Plath.

"Sheloran?" the Plath asked.

"Yes?"

The ancient Plath smiled.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to meet you..."

***

After the old Plath finished speaking, Sheloran just floated there, stunned.

"So… You're the poophead that has been messing with me?!?" she demanded after a little while.

"Not just me," the Heretic replied, "You are the genetic..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sheloran grumbled, "I'm the long-awaited second coming of the jerkface that killed the freaking Great Prophet, who also just happened to be an even bigger jerkface and the entire faith on which I built my entire flushing life is just a big ol' wad of poop. Got it."

"I must say you are taking all of this a lot more calmly than I anticipated."

"Are you familiar with my flushing life?" Sheloran demanded, "I can only lose my poop so many times, you know."

The Heretic chuckled.

"I suppose you do have a point," she said with a rueful smile. "For what it's worth, I am truly sorry for my role in all of this and have spent most of my life trying to atone for my sins and to undo, at least in part, some of what I did to you. I was… well, the word 'wrong' doesn't even come close… I'm sorry."

"I'm too tired and have too many other people to be angry with to be too upset with you," Sheloran replied. "If what you are saying is true, then I was 'destined' to be a freak from the beginning."

"Yes," the Heretic said sympathetically, "Once again, I am..."

"Yeah," Sheloran said, cutting her off, "I take it you didn't come all this way/when to just say you were sorry, though."

Sheloran narrowed her glowing eyes.

"Why are you here, and what do you want?"

"My life is at an end," the Heretic replied. "Actually, my life ended a very, very long time ago. With the last of my energy and skill, I left my dying body and passed through the void to reach you to tell you everything that I have. It's information you needed to know, and perhaps it will help… I don't know…"

"You don't know?" Sheloran smirked, "I thought you knew everything."

"Not everything," the Heretic smiled, "But I do know some things up to this point. After this moment, I have no knowledge. You are the inevitable end of that chapter in our history. All lines of probability converge right here. You are… a singularity of sorts. The lines of the past converge and end here. I've done what I could to make it as clean of a break as possible and to give you as much of a chance to chart the future for yourself… for yourself and our people, as I could."

"Our people?!?" Sheloran snapped. "You mean the world killing pooping jerkfaces who were slaves to some even bigger jerkfaces?!?"

The Heretic flinched, and her form wavered slightly.

"Forgive me if I don't give two poops about our people at the moment!"

"Sheloran, please," the Heretic implored, "… You're right… You're right. It isn't our people. My people did horrible things, both at the command of the Progenitors and on our own. My people were all but destroyed by the First Daughter for our sins, and she paved the way for your people."

"My people?"

"The Plath of today are not the same as those who came before. They are a quiet simple folk who aren't corrupted by our sins, our vices, and our ambitions. Please don't judge them for our sins. I won't try to convince you what to do or try to tell you what your 'destiny' is. Just… please… don't hate them for what we did. They are… innocent… I've been to the homeworld, and for the most part, they are exactly what they appear to be."

"For the most part?" Sheloran asked dubiously.

"There are those among them who… guard the others' slumber," The Heretic said. "They think quite highly of you, by the way."

"Whoop de pooping doo," Sheloran replied. "Fat lot of help they were."

The Heretic sighed.

"I know you must be angry..."

"You think?"

The Heretic reached into herself and withdrew a glowing… something…

"Here," she said, extending the glowing… thing… towards Sheloran.

"What's that?" Sheloran asked suspiciously as she backed away.

"It's… part of myself..." The Heretic replied sadly. “Knowledge… experience… Things that I've seen as I traveled to you… Things about the Plath… Things about the foes you currently face… Everything that I have told you and more… Consider it my way of… paying reparations…"

Sheloran just stood there, arms crossed, suspiciously glaring at her.

"...Please..." The Heretic begged. "It will explain things better than I have..."

"Fine," Sheloran shrugged, "Why the poop not."

Sheloran reached out and took the… thing…

...which immediately melted into her "body"…

"Woah..." Sheloran said as her eyes glowed brightly.

The Heretic smiled sadly.

"There it is… all of it..." she said sadly. "I can't begin to tell you..."

"You don't have to," Sheloran sighed… and smiled a little. "Poop being poop doesn't change much, huh?" she said with a wry smile.

"No, it does not… sister..." The Heretic replied sadly.

"Well, for what it's worth," Sheloran replied, "You aren't a complete jerkface… not a complete one..."

“That… means a lot… Thank you..." The Heretic sighed. "Thank you."

"And these… Tol..." Sheloran said as she searched her (new) thoughts, "They have something for me?"

"Oh yes," The Heretic smiled. "They have so much for you. I left certain things in their care, and they still remember. When you feel yourself ready, seek them out. However, I suspect they will be searching for you as well."

"Everyone else is," Sheloran shrugged, "What's one more?"

The Heretic smiled.

"I'm… fading..." she said sadly. “It was… an honor… Sheloran."

"Go to your children," Sheloran smiled, "I'll take it from here… not that I have a pooping choice..."

"Good luck, Sheloran," The Heretic smiled and disappeared.

***

Sheloran opened her eyes to find herself in the med bay with Eno hovering over her.

"You're awake!" Eno exclaimed with relief.

Sheloran just sighed a long weary sigh.

"Eno?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"I've had a really poopy day, and I just want to curl up and go to sleep," she said. "Do you… do you think we could… you know… sleep?"

"You still want to… sleep with me?" Eno asked in surprise.

"Eno," Sheloran sighed, "I'm exhausted and really want a good night's sleep. I don't care what 'it' does."

***

Sheila was walking towards the galley when she saw Sheloran walk past in one of her t-shirt nightgowns, holding her pillow…

...and heading towards Eno's room…

Sheila just stood there for a second.

"Don't care," she said as she continued towards the galley.