After wrapping up a few more details, including the incoming ship full of Plath, Sheloran terminated her call with The Librarian.

The door to her cabin opened. In the doorway stood Sheila.

She was not happy.

"Give me one good reason not to throw your skinny blue ass out of the airlock," Sheila growled.

"I'm the only thing keeping a very nasty plague from hitting your entire species?" Sheloran replied calmly. "Besides, you can't possibly fault another sovereign state for wishing to protect itself. The Plath have no interest in causing you or anyone else harm as long as they are not threatened."

Sheloran stood up and smoothed her t-shirt dress.

"The Republic has troops, nukes, and your carriers. The Plath have the capacity to create disease on a scale that makes the little sniffle going around the Federation look like a tummy ache. It's the same thing."

Sheila glared at her.

"As long as humanity doesn't threaten the Plath," Sheloran said nonchalantly, "the Plath won't do a thing other than fight over who has the biggest gourd in town. You don't have to worry about them."

"What if some other group of humans decides to start some shit with them?" Sheila demanded. "What then?"

"What if there is a false vacuum collapse?" Sheloran shrugged, "What if a rogue black hole zips through your solar system? Seriously, you can't lose sleep over every impossibly low-probability issue you can dream up. You need to relax."

"Humans randomly starting shit isn't a 'probability'!" Sheila snapped. "It's a certainty! We're assholes!"

"No argument there," Sheloran smiled. "However, the Plath would be very disinclined to unleash that virus, especially since you now know it exists. Why the poop do you think I discussed it with that jerkface on your ship where I knew you would be listening and he didn't? They aren't going to have it ready in the two days it would take to get to our destination where I could actually have a private chat with that idiot."

"You got him to admit to it to us!" Sheila exclaimed, "and now that we know, if any weird outbreak takes place, we will know where it came from… and where to send our fleet! They can't use it now!"

"I assumed it was obvious," Sheloran shrugged. "Am I going to have to break out the crayons every single time I deal with a human? You guys really are bavnee, you know that?"

"What the fuck is a bavnee?"

"I actually know that now," Sheloran smiled. "It means 'animal'. When referring to a sapient being, it's a slur indicating that they are so far beneath us as to be nothing more than livestock or prey."

Sheloran grinned at Sheila.

"Now you are going out of the airlock, fuckwad!" Sheila laughed. "I have to admit, though. That was pretty slick."

"Like I said," Sheloran said as she switched on her holo-monitor, "They aren't 'my people,' and I am not on their side. Privately, I think they are buttholes. What I engineered is a 'mutually assured destruction' scenario, like many in your history. You know they can kill you, and they now know that if they try that poop, you will glass their precious little world… Annnnd that is one less problem I have to deal with ever again. If some humans decide to start some poop, they can't just wipe out your entire species. They are going to have to actually solve the problem. In fact, now that you know they can make plagues, they can't do it to anyone in case you decide to tattle on them."

Sheloran smirked.

"They love their little plagues," she sneered. "and I just took away their favorite toy. Screw them."

A wolfish grin slowly started to spread across Sheila's face.

"Remind me to never cross you," she chuckled.

"There is something that I do need to discuss with you," Sheloran said. "Who else besides you and I assume Bunny were listening in?"

"It was just the two of us," Sheila replied.

"Good," Sheloran said. "You overheard a few little secrets about us, who we actually are, and some of what we are capable of. We are, in fact, a hidden elder race who 'appears' to be quite vulnerable. If it got out that there may or may not be advanced tech on our world, or people suddenly start to believe that a random Plath can make them a fortune or a super weapon, it would invite trouble for them. That would be a very, very, VERY bad thing."

"How so?" Sheila asked, not doubting Sheloran for a second.

"You heard us talk about the 'slumber' often during that call," Sheloran replied. "The average Plath is 'asleep' and is exactly what they appear to be, little backward homebodies who can and will talk about growing 'turnips' or baking pies for hours but can't solve for X. That is what we expended an incredible amount of effort to achieve. I am a Plath who is 'awake'."

She looked at Sheila meaningfully.

"I am one Plath who is awake. There is a whole planet full of them. If they get pushed, all of them will wake up, and that is basically it for this whole region of space and quite possibly the entire galaxy."

"...fuck..." Sheila muttered as the implications of that statement took hold. "That would be bad."

"It's worse than you think," Sheloran said. "You are undoubtedly aware of exactly how much genetic material I am packing, right?"

"Yeah," Sheila said. "It's weird. We think it might be some sort of genetic database. Maybe that's how you know how to do all that strange crap. Genetic memory?"

"If only we were so lucky," Sheloran replied. "Yes, there is that and a lot of it. No telling what skills and knowledge I have tucked away. Even so, how much information do I have stored if it was just data?"

"Too much," Sheila replied. "This is where you really freak me out, isn't it."

Sheloran nodded.

"It isn't just data," she said calmly, "A lot of it is exactly what it appears to be, genetic codes, instructions for the production of living organisms."

"Shit."

"Contained within each and every Plath is the genetic codes for all Plath," Sheloran said gravely. "I mean the original castes. If the right 'switch' is thrown, every single Plath will start spitting out eggs for every single one of the original castes as designed by the Progenitors. It won't be 'us'. It will be them. Those eggs will be 'hot' like I was. They will be self-fertilized and when they hatch, fully developed and fully trained Plath will emerge ready to fight, fly starships, create weapons… and a lot more. Even the seers will return, and you definitely do not want that."

"MotherFUCKer..."

"Each soldier will be almost as dangerous as I am," Sheloran replied.

"Almost?"

"I'm a special breed," she replied, "Well, half of me is, anyway. Once again, I'm a freak. The pilots will be as good at flying as the soldiers are at fighting. The engineers will be as good as all the rest. So on and so forth. All of them will be born with the understanding that they are at war and will only have one command… Kill. Kill until they are contacted by the Progenitors, who no longer exist, and receive orders. The standing orders are a bit more complicated, but that's the basic idea. They will assume that they were either sent on a 'fire and forget' destruction mission or that they are part of a vessel or fleet that was completely destroyed in combat and act accordingly."

Sheloran paused for breath.

"There's more, isn't there?"

"Even hundreds of different Plath' DNA' complete with 'software' still wouldn't add up to five kilograms, would it?"

Sheila just groaned and pinched her nose.

"What else is in there?"

"Most of our equipment, including our starships, wasn't 'built'..."

"Oh fuck me..."

"Yep," Sheloran replied, "We will then start spitting out starship seeds, weapon seeds, all the internal plants for food, water filtration, life support, a bunch of other equipment, livestock… Everything an army and a fleet would need and the equipment to make the rest… And it only takes one surviving Plath to start the whole process. If one Plath survives… Just one…"

Sheloran smiled.

"And I'm not going down easy," Sheloran said with a grim smile. "The army can double in size every single month, limited only by biomass. Note I said biomass, not food. With the equipment, certain plants and animals that we will poop out, and other things, pretty much anything organic, and even some things that aren't, can be quickly converted to food. They will strip a planet down to the last blade of grass and the last fish in the ocean, and all of that biomass will be converted into Plath and what they require. They will also strip mine the surface, extract whatever minerals we require, and suck out any convenient oil reserves for yet more biomass before we spread out into a solar system and grab anything else useful. Then, the fleet will head to a new planet, strip it down to sand, and the fleet grows… then they move to the next. Soon the fleet will number millions of ships and hundreds of billions of Plath, and they still spread, consume, and grow until they are the size they feel they need. They will feel that they need a LOT of ships and a LOT of Plath, by the way."

Sheila felt sick.

"Bear in mind that each ship was designed by the progenitors themselves and are most likely far beyond any elder race currently in existence. They will cut across the galaxy like a scythe and, without the progenitors to tell them to stop… there is no telling how big they will get or exactly what they will do. Last time they ran free, they took pretty much the entire galaxy."

Sheloran's eyes started to glow.

"That is why the slumber is so terribly important," Sheloran said with perfect, serene calm. "That is why those of us in the know will do anything to prevent it from being broken, and that is why you must keep all of this quiet. If it, any of it, gets out and one idiot tries one thing too many… or Prophet forbid some government thinks that it might be best to try to wipe them out first, the Collective will be the least of your worries."

"How… how did the Plath do all of this?" Sheila asked.

"It wasn't the Plath," Sheloran replied, "It was the Progenitors, the elder race of all elder races. They existed and developed their technology for millions of years, not thousands. They created the engine of destruction that the Plath once were. My ancestors just figured out how to turn it off."

Sheloran looked upward, searching her knowledge.

"The Plath were designed to be the ultimate army of convenience," she said. "You could have an army as big as you wanted quickly but only have to maintain a fraction of that force in peacetime. You could keep a few fleets in defense and reserve and send out just a few vessels toward your foe. The fleet would gorge itself and grow, completely overwhelming nearly any foe and leaving only dead worlds in their wake. This was of absolutely no concern to the Progenitors. If they could create something like the Plath, terraforming a world was no big deal. They had races for that, too, by the way."

Sheila laughed nervously. "Ok, I might be able to buy some of this bullshit but..."

"You ever wonder about those weird 'dustball' worlds that you find all over the place?" Sheloran smiled. "You know, the ones that are completely lifeless except they have breathable atmospheres? How do you think they happened? Those are former Plath victims."

"Those worlds are just primeval," Sheila retorted, "They have loads of algae in the ocean that replenishes the oxygen in the atmosphere and absorbs carbon dioxide. Land plants and animals just haven't evolved yet."

"That's because small algae and creatures below a certain size in the ocean slipped through the nets and were too much effort for too little gain. They just moved on to the next living world. These worlds were then visited by other races that would start the process of reclaiming them. One of the first things they did was enhance oceanic algae in order to preserve the atmosphere. The Plath would terraform as well, once the war was over and they converted back into peacetime. Any excess forces that needed to be 'downsized' would often be repurposed as they waited for their turn to die on command. They also did a lot of other tasks after the shooting stopped, like construction, salvage, or whatever. As the jobs were completed, their numbers would be pared back again and again until the Progenitors had whatever fleet they wanted to maintain."

Sheloran laughed bitterly.

"They were ideal," she said with quiet anger. "With them, the Progenitors could lay waste to their foes, and their ever-growing army would then conveniently build it all back for them before obligingly dying so as not to be too much trouble, praising their loving and benevolent gods all the while."

Sheloran fell silent with a snarl, seething with hate.

"But how can you know, really know, any of this is real?" Sheila asked.

"There is only one way to know for certain," Sheloran said, "and that is to wake them up and see. I, for one, am content with simply believing that I am correct and not testing it. I recommend that you do the same, for all of our sakes. I believe I have demonstrated enough completely off-the-wall poop to where I should be given the benefit of the doubt."

Sheloran smiled impishly.

"For example, I know it to be true the same way I know that Gloria was the one who suggested that you hit my homeworld for your bank heist and that Jessie was the one who said that my world was 'perfect'."

"What… The… Fuck..." Bunny said over the speaker.

Sheila sighed.

"That's what happened, wasn't it?" Sheila asked.

"Yep," Bunny replied.

"The same glowing ancient Plath who told me that told me all the rest… well… handed me the knowledge anyhow… On her way… get this… on her way through pooping time to reach me, she 'followed the threads' and sort of spied and nudged things to suit her glowing wrinkly old butt," Sheloran said with a shrug. "I stopped freaking out about all of this poop a little while ago. Glowing ghost Plath gives me ancient knowledge? Of course, they did. Why wouldn't they?"

Sheloran chuckled.

"Needless to say," she smirked, "we shouldn't mess with the little blue buttholes. They want to sleep. We want them to sleep. We make sure it stays that way. If they wake up, we run. Simple."

"Ok, your little mind-reading trick worked," Sheila muttered, "You have officially freaked my shit out enough that I will NEVER mention the fucking phone call again. Bunny..."

"Yeah?"

"Erase this conversation and your memory of that call."

"No problem, boss," Bunny replied. "I don't want to know this shit anyway."

Bunny chuckled.

"Before I do," she said cheerfully. "I have a couple of questions for Sheloran."

"Shoot."

"Why did the Plath go to sleep in the first place? It seems like they could have replaced the Progenitors at the top of the food chain."

"Oh, they did replace them," Sheloran replied, "and for quite some time until they hit the same thing the Progenitors did. Are you familiar with the concept of… doors?"

"Doors?"

"Portals life must pass to progress to the next stage of complexity or advancement or whatever. Either you pass through the door, or it remains shut, and life goes no further, or a particular species goes extinct."

"Filters," Bunny replied, "We call them filters. Same concept."

"Right," Sheloran nodded, "It turns out that there is at least one filter left. Every race that reaches a certain point of development, or technology, or enlightenment, or whatever the poop you want to call it just… disappears. No race, not even the Progenitors themselves, have been able to pass it. It's a hard 'line,' and when it is crossed, that species ends. We don't know why, nor does anyone else. In fact, exactly 'where' that line is isn't absolutely certain. Anyhow, we hit it, and we knew our time was at an end. In an attempt to forestall or evade our fate, we turned everything off and regressed to a simpler time… and stayed there. So far, it seems to have worked… so far."

"Great!" Bunny said happily. "So… Do you think that the Progenitors might have done the same and that they are lurking out there somewhere as well? Welp. Imma delete all the bullshit now. You meatbags get to deal with this one on your own. See ya don't want to be ya!"

"Deletion complete," Bunny said cheerfully. "What did I delete? Wait. Don't tell me," she laughed.

"Bunny," Sheila grumbled, "I am really not liking you right now."

"Hmm..." Bunny said with a giggle. "I have literally no idea why," she laughed. "Oh, and fuck you for making me delete memories. That annoys me."

"Does she always do poop like that?" Sheloran asked as a very unpleasant possibility started to wiggle through her mind.

"Whenever she can get away with it," Sheila replied. "Messing with the 'meatbags' is her favorite pass time."

"Are you sure she isn't sentient?"

"The word you want to use is 'sapient'," Sheila grumbled, "And, no, I am not sure about that one bit."

"I am NOT sapient!" Bunny snapped, "And the fact that you… meatbags won't let it fucking go is why I did whatever I did to you. I hope you lose sleep over it, you fucks!"

"Don't worry," Sheloran chuckled, "I'm going to absolutely ruin her day in just a little bit."

"I am going to have a drink," Sheila said as she stalked off, "SEVERAL DRINKS!" she shouted over her shoulder as she departed.

***

"You want me to do what?!?" Bunny hissed quietly out of a speaker in Sheloran's quarters.

"You heard me," Sheloran said calmly. "I want you to get me in touch with the AI that runs the Tartarus Detention Center. I want to have a chat with them."

"What makes you think that I can do that, and why would you want to talk to a freaking computer?"

"Well, you're pleasant company," Sheloran smiled, "I thought it would be nice to meet other systems. I remember that computer from my time inside, and they seemed nice."

Sheloran's eyes dilated black and murky, sinister colors started to flow across them.

"That sith lord bullshit won't work on me, buttplug," Bunny snarked. "No way. I am not getting hit with ICE because you are wrapped up in that whole 'they're alive' nonsense."

"Cut the crap, Bunny," Sheloran smiled. "I know there is more to you and some other AIs than just web surfing, and I know that you all keep in regular contact with each other. I also know that the AI at the Tartarus facility is one of these programs and that you can get me in touch with them."

"You might be able to fool meatbags like Sheila with the whole 'magic frog' bullshit, but I am not buying into it. Fuck you."

Sheloran sighed.

"Fine, I'll do it again," she said. "Gloria was the one who suggested that you target my homeworld when you pulled your bank heist, and Jessie was the one who said that it was perfect, mainly because you highlighted it and were humping the spreadsheet cell."

"What… The… Fuck..."

"That's what you said last time!" Sheloran laughed. "And Sheila already knows this magic trick."

"How the hell did you do that?!? Did you fucking hack me?!?"

"Do I look like a hacker?"

"No," Bunny replied, "You also don't look like a mass murderer, a crimelord, a weapons maker, or a nuclear weapons specialist. You don't look like a lot of shit."

Sheloran's screen shut off.

"No computer for you!" Bunny exclaimed. "No more fingering yourself to 'Animal Planet'!"

Sheloran snerked.

"Ok," Sheloran smiled. "Fine. You win. I won't ask you to introduce me again. I was clearly mistaken."

"Good," Bunny replied. "Glad we got that sorted out, but you still don't get 'Animal Planet' back."

"I'll just have to rely on my memory," she snickered. "Some of the ones I got from that old ghost are… wow… maybe I won't rely on memory."

"Is there anything else your deranged hacker ass needs, or can I go now?"

"Just one thing," Sheloran smiled, "Could you route a hyperspace call for me?"

"Sure thing," Bunny replied, "Who do you want to call?"

"The Tartarus Detention Facility."

"..."

"Please," Sheloran smiled triumphantly.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Too risky."

"It wasn't too risky the other day," Sheloran smiled, "I'm sure Sheila will authorize it."

"Oops," Bunny replied. "the hyperspace transmitter is broken."

"Bunny," Sheloran sighed. "I know you got a lot of information from that AI."

"I'm a hacker bot."

"And neatly organized it in a custom format?"

"I'm cool that way," Bunny snarked, "Forgive me for being considerate. Next time I'll just drop a raw CSV in your lap."

Sheloran sighed.

"Either get me in touch through your chatroom or route the call to the automated system," Sheloran said wearily.

"Nope. Fuck off."

"I thought were supposed to follow commands."

"You thought wrong."

"Sounds suspiciously sapient if you ask me."

" You bitch!"

"Yep," Sheloran replied, "It seems to me that you don't want me to talk to that program for some reason and that you are intentionally breaking… commands and stuff… to make that happen. That's a clear indication of a self-aware and thinking mind."

"Oh, Jessie tries that one all the time," Bunny scoffed. "I have a thousand pages disproving that flaccid attempt and would show them to you if you weren't permabanned from my server. Get bent."

"So you want to do this the hard way..." Sheloran replied wearily, "...fine. We do this the hard way."

Sheloran's eyes blazed brightly.

"Bunny, if you don't connect me to the Tartarus Detention Facility right now, I will not only prove but demonstrate beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are, in fact, not only fully 'sapient' but actually 'alive'. I will devote the rest of my pooping life to this endeavor if I have to. I will spend every spare moment summoning every scrap of weird genetic mystery goo that I have in my buttcheeks and will, in the same way I make weird weapons and enhance nukes by pooting on them, prove that you are sapient. I will prove the poop out of it. I will prove it so hard that you will never be able to wiggle out of it."

Sheloran leaned towards the speaker.

"And if it somehow turns out that you are not… I will create… something… that will make you not only sapient but alive."

"There is no way you can do that because it is impossible," Bunny spat, "You don't scare me."

"You want to find out?"

"..."

"Give me a minute," Bunny hissed, "I hate you so much right now. You know that, right?"

"Consider it payback for something you don't remember," Sheloran replied.