A/N: *pulls empty bucket out of old stone structure* Hmm ... the Idea Well's looking a bit dry these days. Must be going through a drought.
Enjoy.
Colonel Young woke up the next day to a distinct smell – a smell he recognized, but shuddered to think about being present on Destiny.
Smoke.
Quickly, he rolled out of bed and – not bothering to put his pants or shoes on – hurtled out the door. Then he paused, turned around slowly, and went back inside.
The fire was in his room.
"Hello, Pagan Leader," Tom greeted him. "I hope you are well."
Young edged closer to his pants, but Dubhghuill snatched them and tossed them on the fire.
"What are you doing?" Young snapped, finally taking note of the large amount of solemn-faced postulants in his room.
"We're holding a book burning," Tom answered.
It was a long time before Young regained the use of his tongue.
"A BOOK BURNING?" he yelped. "We have three books on this ship! You can't –"
"They were heathenistic," said Dubhghuill simply. "They were corrupting our acolytes. So with this sacred match –"
"Sacred match?"
" – We lit the fire inside the ship's very center of immorality and lust."
Young stared at them.
"My room?" he asked. They nodded. "My room is the center of immorality and lust?"
"Indeed."
Young passed a hand over his face, shaking his head slowly. "So my sleeping quarters," he said, "become hell …. Yet Rush is a religious leader?"
"Brother Nicholas is celibate," Brother Tom said gently. "We checked. Therefore, his quarters cannot possibly be a center of immorality and lust."
Young looked up at them in disbelief. "Well, I'm sure he's celibate with other people," he scoffed. The aliens stared at him blankly, uncomprehending. Greer was giving him a very disapproving look.
"You know," Young said awkwardly. "His right hand is his best friend …?"
Completely bemused, the aliens looked at their various tentacles as if the answer lay there. Young felt himself go pale.
"Look," he said, "I'm just gonna go. Try not to burn my bed down."
They made no promises.