Tales From the Terran Republic

Chapter Sheloran Tries to Make It

So I made it to pooping Terra.

Yay. Pooping yay.

Oh don’t get me wrong. I love the Republic. I really do. So many things to see and do and so much freedom! Oh, and games! Sooo many games! I could do nothing but play games, read, and watch media nonstop until the day that I died and I wouldn’t even make a dent!

I really am in heaven… almost…

I’ve made a few little “discoveries” about the “promised land” of late. Real pooping whoppers too!

Scum! So many wonder-pooping-ful discoveries…

The first “discovery” was about all of those wonderful high-paying jobs that are just falling out of the pooping sky…

Nope.

Oh there are jobs, pooping bajillions of them. There are ads running nonstop begging people to come to work for this huge industrial outfit or that mining company or some eco-engineering firm. All you need is this little thing that they like to call “education”.

Me? I thought I was pooping educated. Flushing nope. The wonderful Plath education system apparently sucks scum straight through a poop straw. We learned how to read and how to write and do some basic math and studied some traditional Plath literature that was supposed to “enrich our moral integrity”. Besides that? Mostly agriculture courses that everybody already knew because they pooping worked on their parent’s farm. We also had some (just for us girls of course) child care classes and “girl’s health” classes. Don’t even get me pooping started on those! Did you know it was flushing possible to be bored, grossed out, and insulted all at the same time?

I was the flushing “smart one” because I actually paid attention in the one semester of typing class (I needed it for computers, duh) and could do math “real good”, good enough to land a job at the local bank.

Pooping success! Yay for me! I was flushing going places in Plath-town!

To be fair, what the poop were we going to do with anything more? Everybody just found a warm body, got married, and then started working the family farm and pumping out the next generation of farm workers. The really smart kid maybe wound up being a tractor mechanic dare to pooping dream...

My “extensive research” on the topic which led me to pooping believe that I could, with just six months to maybe two years of training just dive into some super cool job here completely missed the extensive detailed flushing amazing education provided to each Terran since childhood. Yeah “just six months” after twelve flushing years of a galaxy-superpower class education! These poopers do stuff that a Plath might learn in college (the rare few who actually go) before they hit puberty!

I took an “assessment test” a little while ago… I don’t even want to pooping talk about it. I mean I thought I was smart. Pooping nope. Not even flushing close. Not even math! Oh that was the worst! I thought I was good at math. (I’m not good at math. I didn’t even pooping know what math was.)

In every way that matters I’m a flushing elementary school student! Their… pooping children… are better equipped than I am. Scum! No wonder they can just waltz right into some super high paying great pooping job. They are actually better educated and trained the day they come of age than most Plath ever become in their entire sad pathetic little flushing lives.

In citizenship class, something I never miss, they stress how important education is and how it is important not to get discouraged. Education-levels vary incredibly widely across the Federation and even the Empire. The Republic is the only power that has sought to set a universal standard. Maybe it’s easier for them since they are so new and there are only four systems but poop! Did they set a flushing standard! Where the Plath expect their kids to get married and farm the flushing Terrans expect their kids to pooping rock the entire flushing galaxy doing anything and pooping everything they flushing want…

And they pull it off too! It’s hard sometimes, really hard.

I just feel so very small here… and stupid… and small… and weak… poop… I’m going to get all mopey again. I get really mopey sometimes. I’m not alone it seems. My citizenship class covers what they call “culture shock”. The teacher tries really hard to talk around the fact that all species are in fact not even flushing close to pooping equal. She tries to pretend that we are all equally capable and that if we let ourselves adjust and “open ourselves up to challenge” that we can all somehow magically become as awesome as they are.

Yeah, pooping right. Some of us are just small weak little dummies. It’s so discouraging sometimes. Some people actually drop out and give up, not only on “making it” but even just becoming citizens. Some have even gone back to the Federation, even with serious consequences waiting for them, because it was “just too hard”.

Not me, though. We Plath might be small, weak, little dummies but we are tough small, weak, little dummies. Kick the poop out of us all day every day and we will still show up twice a week bow on our head and glitter on our face. No way I’m going back either, for obvious reasons. I’m going to pooping make it here, or at the very least, survive.

Thank the Waters of the Eternal Pond that I robbed that bank! Some of my classmates don’t have a pooping thing and have to live in shelters set up by either their species or a Terran charity of some sort. I was at least able to get myself set up in a nice little “extended stay hotel”. It’s really nice and has the cutest little “kitchenette”. The Terrans think it’s tiny but it’s perfect just for me!

The only problem is that it’s so expensive. I can’t rent an apartment without a job and jobs aren’t the easiest to find for a little stupid xeno like me. Most jobs, even ones that I would consider basic labor, require either a Terran high school diploma or a “Terran Educational Equivalency Certificate” which you can get if you just pass a simple little totally pooping impossible test. Honesty time. That “assessment test” I mentioned earlier, yeah… I just wiggled my stubbly little tail into that testing hall just knowing I would pass.

I ran out of the testing hall nearly in tears and wound up huddling with some other little hapless losers (Why did we all have to be small?) in complete shock not that long after.

That’s when I knew I was in for a long wet slog. The Republic is just a nice little kick right in the pooper for people like me. Jobs everywhere. So many jobs. There are so many high paying jobs that give people lives the likes of which we couldn’t even dream of back home. They are just sitting open, waiting for someone to take them…

But they require skills that we never had the chance to acquire and to be honest I’m not even sure right now if some of us (myself included) could ever learn.

Jobs for us?

Well, there are thousands of us all growling and snapping like dogs (Did I say that right, like dogs? I like dogs! They are so cute! I’m going to get one when I finally get my own place someday.) like dogs scrapping over what few openings there are. You would think service industry jobs would be open but the Kalesh, who are every bit as “powerful” as the humans in their own way, prefer them and well…

You are going to lose. It’s not "racism" (it’s what they call species discrimination). It’s just like trying to beat a human in a fistfight (or beat a Kalesh at one for that matter). They are just so good at them. Besides, a lot of those jobs, even stuff like a lot of restaurant server positions, require that pooping “diploma”. Now do I think there is a little discrimination there. A lot of people here want you to have what I consider an impossible level of education if you interact with the public at all. Poop! I even was told that I wasn’t “qualified” to mop a pooping floor once! They preferred that their “custodial technicians” had their “diploma” because they had “issues training ‘people’ (xenos like me) in the past”. That’s right! I couldn’t get a job pushing a flushing mop!

That didn’t stop me though. I might be a stupid little xeno but I’m a tough stupid little xeno. Every pooping day I put on one of my best bows and one of my best dresses and went out there, every single day. Yeah, I had “money” but that “unbelievable fortune” was dropping by the pooping week! I didn’t want to get lazy and have it run out and wind up with flushing nothing. Then I really would be swimming in the scum.

It took awhile but I finally caught a pooping break! A little coffee shop in the “free port” area had an opening and the human manager just took one look at me.

“Can you understand me without a translator?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. I speak Terran.”

“Can you make change?”

“Yes,” I said trying not to shake. This was the closest I had gotten to an interview in ages.

“Can you make coffee drinks?”

“Um, not really,” I stammered.

“Honest. No bullshit. I like that. Too many people try to pretend that they do or even worse think that they can when they can’t. Great! I can show you the way I want them done! When can you start?”

And that was that! A job! A pooping job! I had a job! It’s just “minimum wage” but we get tips and it’s a start. I work evenings and take classes towards my educational certificate during the day. (The classes are so pooping hard and it’s going to take flushing years to catch up but I have to do it if I want to have a hope of actually making it here!) To be honest the job doesn’t even come close to meeting my expenses. Between the hotel and the classes and just the basics I am still hitting my credit stash really hard but scum! I needed to get that job! It means the world to me! It means I’m not a complete failure! I’m still burning credits like they were flushing tinder but I’m not a failure!

It’s a nice job! My coworkers are fun and I get to meet a lot of different people! Because we are near the starport we get all sorts from all over and that’s just super-neat! It doesn’t pay the bills but I’ve met this nice human (who doesn’t have her diploma either for some reason) and she says that one of her roommates is moving out soon and that I could move in! When that happens I just might pooping break even!

I really like my coworkers a lot! They are pooping awesome! I had been feeling so very lonely here before I had them. I am the only Plath in the whole Republic (I checked). I didn’t count on how that would pooping affect me either. I was completely alone! At least now I have an excuse for not being able to land a boyfriend. (ha!)

It’s still hard sometimes, really hard. I just feel so tiny and a part of me just hates that. Back home I had my own little house with a yard and a little garden and here I am delirious with glee at the thought of maybe, just maybe, having my own bedroom. That nice pistol that Captain Hollister and his crew gave me? I can’t even use it. It just kicks so hard! I had to hack a stunner just like the old days just to have a little something for my waistband (they confiscated my old one at customs). It should be ok, though. Concealed weapons are legal here. I just don’t trust a simple stunner. Have you ever pooping seen some of these humans up close? Besides, in the “free port” area people wear armor a lot and a stunner just won’t cut it. I love my job but it’s not exactly in the best neighborhood. (I think that’s why the manager wasn’t all that picky.) We do all go to the bus stop together at night after we close but that lonely walk in at the start of my shift is kind of sketchy, just like back when I was on the run.

Part of me likes that. I didn’t feel so tiny back then. I can almost pretend that I’m on the run in the Federation with the law on my stubbly little tail. I don’t know why but I really like that.

I just pooping hate feeling so small, so useless.

***

I had been working there for about a month when Captain Hollister and the guys rolled back into town. They had another ship full of “miscellaneous goods” and since it was taking a few days to move it all they decided to look me up. Oh it was so great to see them again! We laughed and drank and ran around all the bad neighborhoods with me riding on their shoulders and just had a pooping blast! They even managed to get their hands on a little zip and you wouldn’t guess it but I am not afraid of a little swoosh every now and then. We told stories about my infamous flight across the Federation and shared memories of a couple of close calls. My favorite one is the time that they wound up having to shove me under the deck plates and big old hairy Clyde wound up pretending that my room was his! He shoved one a pillow up one of my dresses and tucked it into bed like he slept with it and even put one of my bows in his hair if you can pooping believe it. Oh we howled and laughed about that one. Clyde even took my bow and put it on his head for a little while. It was great!

For a few wonderful days I didn’t feel tiny. I didn’t feel small. I didn’t feel stupid. I was once again a wild fugitive and one of their crew! It was probably the zip but I begged them to take me with them and I didn’t give two flushes if I got caught. Of course they didn’t go for it. They would wind up in jail right with me!

I still have a little zip left. I only nibble on it every once in a long while. It would be too easy to start taking stuff to feel better about things. A lot of newcomers fall into that trap.

Now I really wish I could blame the zip or the booze for the next part but I can’t. We got to talking towards the end of their visit. It turns out that the whole little “gaming crisis” on my homeworld caused a big crack-down on pirated media of all sorts but anything Terran, especially games, not only on my system but on a few other systems in the vicinity had been hunted to extinction.

You probably pooping see where this is going.

After the guys left I coughed up the credits for a hyperspatial relay link a couple of times and carefully started poking around. A lot of my friends and contacts had managed to avoid going to prison and it turns out that Hollister was right! The pond had completely dried up and they were parched for games and media. It didn’t take long to line up buyers, a lot of them! A quick message to Hollister and we set up a flushing huge deal! Now I’m not a pooping hacker but I’m soaking my pads in the headwaters of all things Terran, pooping Terra itself! Now one happy little surprise I have had is that I had absolutely no idea how pooping cheap games and media are here! We were paying far more than retail price for old pirated crap! I realized that I didn’t have to pirate! There is no law limiting multiple purchases, right? I went nuts! I spent a small fortune, around seventy thousand credits, on mini-crystals and copies and copies and copies of all sorts of new games, movies, graphic novels, and all the other nifty things I could grab. While Hollister was finishing up a short run and heading back I went to work. Now I’m not exactly a hacker and can’t “crack” a game but I can compress and bundle games and keys into a single file set (just like we used to do but with actual legit keys this time). I loaded up those tiny little mini-crystals with a game file or a movie or a set package over and over and over again. If you know what you are doing it doesn’t take all that pooping long. I bought a nice crystal burner for the job so it would go even faster.

Everything was pooping set. The next time Hollister flew in he would pay me a hundred thousand for the bundle and the latest contact info that I could get him on my Plath customers. He had other buyers lined up for the rest. I would then hand him the big satchel I had ready and walk away with a tidy thirty grand profit free and flushing clear!

And this was just the first pooping deal! Thirty-pooping-thousand credits! Thirty thousand and that didn’t even begin to scratch the huge volume of media I could just reach out and get like apples on a tree! (I really like apples! They are awesome! I’m going to have an apple tree one day!) My stash would actually grow quite nicely for the first time in a while with the very tasty possibility of more to come!

And the best part, the actual pooping best?

I didn’t feel small anymore! Not one bit! This was good! No it was better than good! It was pooping awesome!

The week before they arrived on Terra we set up the meet. They couldn’t leave the “free port” because well, they are porkies. The free port area is special though. It’s “neutral territory” so to speak. It’s not a strict legal thing. It’s just that there an understanding that in the interest of commerce people just let things slide a little. In just those few neighborhoods a porkie can have a reasonable expectation that if they don’t be a jerkface they won’t get stabbed… probably. Anyway, my job was in the free port! They had already stormed the place once and definitely left an impression (my coworkers still talk about them… I bet they definitely are talking about them now… poop!). Since they all knew I ran around with them all weekend the last time me bringing a bag would be completely reasonable. They would show up towards closing and after close I would “go running off with my crazy spacer friends” just like last time. We make the deal and once the goods are secure on their ship which was in a real international zone, we pooping celebrate!

***

I couldn’t wait until the day of the deal! It was so pooping exciting! Looking forward to all that cash and not feeling so tiny anymore made every single day so pooping wonderful. It was intoxicating!

It felt like forever but the day finally came. I loaded up by bags and took a taxi to work. Nobody batted an eye, just like I thought!

The shift felt like it took pooping forever! Finally about fifteen minutes before we closed Hollister and the guys walked in. I ran around the counter and jumped up and gave them a flying hug as I squeaked happily! (For once I didn’t mind squeaking!).

They were happy too. We were all excited about the deal and they said that they were so proud of me for setting up my end of things. That made me feel really good! I don’t think anyone ever told me that they were proud of me before! It was pooping wonderful!

I felt like a giant!

The manager let me leave a little early since my friends were there. (I think they sort of scared him.)

We all headed out to the car they had rented and just as we were about to hop in the whole parking lot lit up! It was like it exploded. There were all these really bright lights all around us.

I was blinded. I have these huge cartoon eyes and my pupils were wide open in the dark lot. A loud voice yelled through a speaker to put up our hands and not move!

It was the flushing cops!

I felt a pair of strong human hands grab my wrists and I got thrown over the hood of the car! Just about the time they put the handcuffs on me I could start to see again and I looked over and saw all of my coworkers just staring out of the cafe windows in complete shock!

The look on my manager’s face! I felt so bad. He went and gave me a chance and here I was getting loaded into a police grav-car right in front of him. Scum!

I couldn’t see them but I could hear Captain Hollister yelling for me “Not to say a fucking thing” and that he knew a lawyer. He kept yelling to not say anything over and over. I guess he heard about how easily I broke during my last interrogation (either that or he knows me).

***

Once again I found myself in an interview room but this time I was chained to the pooping desk! I don’t know how long I sat by myself in there. It felt like pooping forever!

Finally the door opened and two humans in plain clothes walked in. Based on the games I’ve played that meant that they were detectives I think.

“I’m Detective Sullivan and this is Detective Marsh,” one of them said as they towered over me. (I was right!)

“Hi,” I squeaked. (I mean how could I not? I was pooping terrified!) “I’m Sheloran.”

“We know who you are, Plath.” Detective Marsh growled. “We know all about you so you can fucking drop the innocent little girl act.”

“Treason, armed robbery, bank robbery, grand theft, accessory to multiple murders… not to mention the people you have killed yourself…” Detective Sullivan said as he walked around behind me, “You’ve been a naughty little frog, bitch.”

“It was just the one bank,” I squeaked.

Both of them just laughed at me.

“Just the one, huh? Oh that makes it ok then,” Detective Sullivan said still laughing.

Why are they being so mean? Oh wait! It’s just like the cutscene in “Fistfull of Credits”! They are trying to scare me. I had be brave! Oh poop it was so hard.

“And now we have caught you red handed with a fucking mountain of pirated media," Detective Sullivan said still behind me. He was almost breathing down my neck. It was so scary!

“It… It’s not pirated! I paid for it.”

“Sure you did,” Detective Sullivan said with a sneer.

“No! I did! Honest!” I squeaked.

“Oh, a minimum wage barista bought all that, huh?”

“No,” Detective Sullivan said behind me, “She could… with all that money she stole. She didn’t. But she could… maybe” he said leaning on the desk beside me.

Oh that smelled! He’s was trying to get me to say that’s how I paid for it. I’m wasn’t pooping falling for that. I’m a dumb little frog but I’m not that dumb.

“My friends are getting me a lawyer,” I squeaked. “I really think I should wait ‘till they are here.”

“Ok,” Detective Marsh said as he walked up right in front of me. Oh they are so big! “While we’re waiting we will just send a little message over to the Federation to see if they are interested in getting you back.”

Oooohhh pooooooop! I bet that they are!

“But they said I could live here! They said-”

“Yeah, they gave you a pass,” Detective Sullivan said with a snort, “But that is assuming you didn’t get into trouble. Now, that pass is out the fucking window.”

“You aren’t a citizen,” Detective Marsh said leaning over me. “We can box you up and mail you back whenever we want for whatever we want, frog.”

“But I’m going to citizenship classes! Perfect attendence!” I squeaked.

“And that doesn’t mean a fucking thing. You aren’t a citizen yet and the last thing we are going to do is let a fucking criminal piece of shit like you become one.”

If they were trying to scare me it worked. I was terrified!

“Every fucking time,” Detective Sullivan said leaning even closer, “They let some criminal in to my Republic because they are ‘legitimate fugitives’ thinking they won’t just turn right around and do the same shit here. Fuck! Half my time is wasted cleaning up after that shit!”

I had to be tough. I couldn’t let them know how close I was to wetting myself.

“I want my lawyer! That media is bought and paid for! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Oh? And what about this?” Detective Marsh said pulling out a plastic bag with a lavender and pink pistol decorated with sequins.

“That’s my gun.”

“I know it’s your gun, smartass. I’m asking you why you bought a burner.”

“A burner?” I asked, completely confused.

“An unlicensed lethal weapon, just perfect for murdering someone like you are prone to do and then tossing.”

“What? No! I made it for protection! I can have a gun here!”

Detective Sullivan broke out into a big smile. Oh poop. That wasn’t good.

“Oh you made it? That’s a crime, frog. We fucking got you!”

“Just how many more of these little darlings have you made? Running an illegal gun business to supplement your media piracy?”

Oh poop. Me and my big mouth!

“They are getting me a lawyer. I’m not saying anything else till they get here.”

“Oh your friends? Don’t count on it tadpole. They are nothing but filthy porkie trash. They aren’t going to do shit for you.”

“Yeah,” Detective Marsh said with a laugh, “They have probably already given you up. Do you know what happens to porkies in jail? They will do anything to-”

“Oh poop! Are they going to be ok?” I squeaked in alarm.

“I think you need to be worrying about your own stubby little tail,” Detective Sullivan said with a sneer. “This little burner and your admission that you made it is enough to ship your ass right back to the Federation. I’m sure they will be very happy to see you.”

Oh by the Waters of the Eternal Pond! No! I was about to cry! I couldn’t let myself cry though even though my eyes were hurting.

“Yeah, bitch,” Detective Marsh said leaning so close I could smell his stinky breath. (Don’t they sell toothpaste in the Republic?) “If you don’t want to be on the next prison transport out of the Republic you better start talking.”

They were trying to bully me. I flushing hate a bully! Oh that just scalds my pooper!

“My friends might be porkies but they are better men than you two will ever be!” I hissed. Oh they made me so mad! They are supposed to be looking out for people and they are just a pair of flushing bullies! They both jerked back a little. “They will get me a lawyer and I am going to wait until they get here and you won’t flushing bully me… you pooping bullies!” I hissed at them without even a little squeak.

“You want to play it that way?” Detective Sullivan said really angry. (I think me telling them that they were worse than my porkie friends really pooping got to them.) “Fine. We will do it your way.” He turned to the other detective. “Just fucking book her and let the Feds have her. I’m not wasting my time on this single credit ante bullshit.” He then walked over to the door and left.

Detective Marsh followed him but paused a moment and looked back at me. I just looked him right in the pooping eyes and blew a wet little flutter through my gill slits. Yeah, he knew what that meant.

He just shrugged and left.

They left me in there for the longest time, long enough for me to calm down and scum did I get scared. If they shipped me back to the Federation I’m going to flushing prison for life!

I almost started crying but I realized they were probably watching. There had to be cameras or sensors or something in here. I curled up in a little ball and tried to be brave. It was so pooping hard but I did it. I didn’t cry.

Eventually Detective Marsh came back with two uniformed officers. The two officers unchained me from the desk and cuffed my hands behind my back.

“Last chance, frog.” Detective Marsh said with mean looking eyes. I normally don’t mind being called a frog but it was the way that he said it. I started getting mad again. He was still trying to bully me.

“For what,” I hissed, “to let you bully me?” I was really getting mad. He was supposed to be a good guy and he wasn’t. He was a bad guy! “Don’t feel too bad,” I said as they were leading me out of the room. “Maybe you will be able to bully the next little xeno you get your big strong manly hands on you… you poopface!”

The two officers started snickering. Oh did that make Detective Marsh mad!

“You tell him, little frog.” one of them laughed as they led me away.

***

They shoved me into this little bus with some humans, a couple of Kalesh, and some other species that I hadn’t even seen before. Oh I was so scared! I couldn’t believe that I made the detectives mad on purpose. Oh why did I do that? They were going to send be back to the Federation!

I burst into tears. I couldn’t hold back any more.

“Hey, hey don’t cry,” A flushing huge fat human woman said to me. “Don’t let them see that. You got to be tough little thing.”

“Ok,” I squeaked trying to stop myself but I couldn’t. I just kept sobbing and sobbing like the tiny, weak little Plath that I am.

“Shh, It’s going to be ok, she said patting my head with both of her cuffed hands. It’s not so bad in there. You are going to be ok.”

“Hey! Hands off and shut up!” A uniformed Kalesh yelled at her as they pulled out a stun baton and triggered it sending bright electric arcs along the tip. The big human quickly put her hands in her lap.

“Hey,” she whispered to me a minute later, “Come find me later. I’ll show you the ropes.”

“Thanks,” I whispered back. It really made me feel better. I was finally able to stop crying. The big human was right. I had to be tough, just like in those prison games!

Could a Plath be tough? Could a tiny little hopeless helpless little thing like me even hope to be remotely tough enough to make it through this? This wasn’t a game! This was pooping real!

Oh scum! I was neck-deep in the poop this time!