Book sat alone in his bunk, deep in thought. He was deep in thought over his job profession, namely; a Shepard of the faith, a leader of the faithful flock. Of course, he wasn't always a Shepard, that had happened after he turned thirty or so. It had happened as such:

He was living it up as an Operative, getting every mission done at whatever expense. This had been his schedule for the first three decades (or so): Wake up, eat breakfast, brush teeth, shower, do mission, boss around any troops that happened to be about, point and laugh at any clergy-person who happened to be around, repeat steps two and three twice, then go to sleep. Then, he had an apiphany, or, rather, someone had it for him. A shining white, beautiful ship came down out of the sky, landing right in front of him. A ramp extended downward, and the double doors opened, revealing a blinding light that blinded him blind for one single, blessed, blinding moment. Then, when his vision cleared, he saw a figure, impossibly tall and skinny. The figure stuck his finger under Book's nose, and asked in a etheral voice, "Are you Derial Book?" Of course, Book could only nod, thinking that, surely, this must be an angel, and those venerable old geezers had been right all along! "Book, Derial Book, you are a Godless sunuvabitch, and you should go burn in Hell." With that, the angel/figure/insulting being retreated into his ship, and it lifted off and flew impossibly fast into the stars.

Of course, he really had been a Godless sunuvabitch, and the venerable old geezers really were right. Now, he was anold geezer, but not really venerable, and he was thinking that, maybe, he was doing something wrong.

Oh, well, lets leave him to brood, shall we?

***

The ships new A.I., which they had affectionately nick-named Shutup, was starting to get on Simon's nerves. It/He/She(?) reminded him of a rather peppy dog. He hated dogs. You see, when he was still training to be a doctor, he had taken frequent walks around his neighborhood, to releave stress. B