True Believer

Corvis Three was small, as colony planets went, and fairly new having only been established fifty years ago. There was the subsistent farming, of course, and a large mining operation that was the main focus of the settlement. It boasted two spaceports, one for travelers and one for shipping only, and one city which contained the bulk of the population.

It was a minor colony, in the grand scheme of things, but a great deal of time, effort, and money had gone into its creation. So when an asteroid appeared to be on a collision course with it, there was a bit of concern.

There was plenty of time for debate on how to handle the impending disaster. The arguments went on for days, but in the end it was decided that the most fiscally responsible action would be to abandon Corvis Three and let nature take its course.

Once the course of action was decided on, the evacuation was done in a timely and orderly fashion. Cargo ships carried away the equipment deemed too valuable to leave behind, and transport ships collected the disgruntled colonists. All but one.

The archivist refused to leave. As far as importance went the archives was at the bottom of the list. The colony hadn’t been established long enough for there to be any significant historical records. All of its noteworthy information had been digitalized. But the archivist refused to leave his post.

“This is my life’s work,” he told them. “I’ll not leave it behind.”

“The archives have been obsolete for ages,” they told them. “Nobody cares about it anyway.”

“I care,” he said, leveling them a look. “I’m staying and that’s the end of it.”

Sitting on the steps of the archives, he watched the last of the ships leave. When they were no more than a speck in the sky he got up, dusted himself off, and went back inside with a sigh of satisfaction.

“They’re all gone,” he called out. “It’s safe to come out now.”

There was a scuffling noise, then a short, squat figure pushed its way out from behind the file cabinet in the corner. Several slender figures with gossamer wings swooped down from the light fixture. Several diminutive figures sporting red caps sidled out from behind the bookcase.

“You sure that’s the last of ‘em?” the gnome asked.

The archivist gave a shrug. “You would know better than I. You’re the ones that orchestrated this exodus.”

“Aye, and a long and hard campaign it was.”

“We’re safe! We’re free!” the fairies chorused, swooping around the gnome’s head.

“Go away now,” the gnome said irritably. “I’ll deal with you later.”

“They don’t mean any harm,” the archivist said mildly. “They’re just excited.”

“They’re an excitable bunch, ‘tis true,” the gnome agreed. “What will you do now?”

“Me? What do you mean?”

“You’re the only human left here and as such we decided you should be in charge.”

“In charge? Of all of you Fae? I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Here,” the gnome said, reaching into his pocket. “Have an onion.”