Ad Astra :: Star Trek Fanfiction Archive ^{Beam me up, Scotty.}

Chapter Text

The Star Beagle Adventures                                                
Episode 9: Long Distance Runaround
Scene 5: Ben Urri Urri

9.5
Ben Urri Urri

Sheeux Voss Nala was the most devout of believers. She was easily the eldest Nala, and master of all the traditions. It was evident among the Minders that she was already too old to be a Nala. Given her evident intelligence, they had an assignment for her: Track down the elusive heretic Ben Urri Urri. 

Urri was bold enough to take the title Urri, meaning “despised heretic” not only as his title, but also as his given name. There was no family among the blue or the purple named “Ben,” which made the heretical writer all the more elusive. But from his writings it was clear that he was close to the center of worship, quite possibly one of the Minders.

Vosq had managed to maintain her role as a Nala well into adulthood largely because of her sweet, innocent, winning personality.

So Vosq had spent hours doing something she had never wanted to do - reading the hateful, diabolical, but dangerously reasonable diatribes of the heretic. 

And Urri’s writings were dangerous. He described the Nala submission ceremony in lurid detail. Vosq had treasured the memory of her own submission ceremony, but now, reading it presented clinically by a stranger, Vosq could feel the heat of disgust rising in her scarred throat - disgust at what had, to a much younger version of herself, seemed like a sacred, holy and life-transforming experience. It had been beautiful back then. In retrospect, it was painful, vile and disgusting. Thanks to the heretic.

One thing that had become clear to Vosq about Urri’s writing: He was good. Really good. It wasn’t just his clear reasoning. It was his crisp descriptions of things that he could not possibly have seen. But Vosq had seen those things and she could not have described them more clearly. There was also cadence, rhythm, rhyme. The hallmarks of literacy.

The Devout and the Minders only allowed the holy scriptures. No other writings were allowed on the compound and very few of the Nala were literate enough to read anything. Vosq had been given an exception because of her job to track down the elusive Ben Urri Urri. She used that exception not only to gain access to his writings, but had reached out to the unbelievers on the space station, who had given her access to the kind of literature that Urri must have read.

The Minders were quite concerned that the eldest, most popular and influential of the Nalas was now reading not only the heretic’s writings but also all kinds of forbidden works in her, admittedly Devoutly assigned, quest to locate the elusive heretic, Ben Urri Urri.

So they had assigned her to read the holy scriptures again. The holy scriptures that had taught her how to read. That had been the most flawless, amazing wisdom and literature. And now reading them again after all this time and after reading Urri’s writing and the literature that must have taught him his craft… 

The holy scriptures were crap.

There was just no other conclusion. The people who had written the scriptures must have had access to the classics, but appeared to have taken little from them. In several passages there were hints that these people had been educated. It was more like they had been drunk while they were writing. No, not drunk… Under the influence of holy rapture. Not writing about it afterward, writing while experiencing it. 

Vosq knew that rapture. Had longed for it. Had lived in it. Until it had made her sick and she had to be carried out of the catacombs and eventually, like so many others over time, banned from them. At the time it was all she could dream of. Now, thinking about it after time had passed, it seemed more like a sickness. Not a true spiritual awakening. She had tried for so long to not think about it, but the entire experience had left her finally feeling quite empty. Used. Inauthentic.

Even as she settled for the evening in her cell at the catacombs, she knew, somehow, that this would be the last night. Locking the cell door triggered the change. Sheeux Vosq, the Nala died that night. As she had died every night. But this was the last time. 

Another person sat down at her desk. In her chair. Ben Urri Urri had planned for this moment. He… no… She, had known just how far the charade could be taken. It was a dangerous experiment in psychological creation of multiple personalities. Each triggered by an event. She was not Ben Urri Urri any more than she had been Sheeux Vosq Nala. 

She did not have long. The Minders would be coming to drag Sheeux Vosq Nala to the bonfire, to be burnt with Ben Urri Urri’s books. They would never know the irony that they planned to burn Ben Urri Urri as well. But Shadow had to escape. Shadow wasn’t her true personality either, but another necessary personality created for just this moment. An illusionist. An escape artist. Shadow had no name. No voice. Would make no noise. Would seem, to anyone looking at her, to have no substance.

There was no other way out of the Nala’s cell. Shadow unlatched a secret latch on the wall near the door. She lifted part of the floor, laid down in the small space underneath and brought that section of floor back over herself. 

She didn’t have to wait long before the door opened, and heavy foot treads announced that a number of guards and, impressively, a holy warrior were searching her cell. Shadow had no idea what senses the holy warrior might have or whether her hiding place was as secure as she might have hoped.

There really wasn’t much cell to inspect. If they were to do a thorough inspection, her hiding place would be found. Shadow was counting on the simplicity of her quarters - just a single cell with a desk, a cot and a neat stack of books (which the Minders quickly removed) - to make any detailed search seem fruitless. People moved in and out of her quarters, but the holy warrior remained, slowly pacing about the room on four legs and searching the walls and ceiling with all three hands.

Shadow barely dared to breathe. She cringed each time the odd creature stepped on the lid to her hiding place, but it never moved. She had used tongue-and-groove fitting to keep it in place and had been preparing and testing it for years.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, all the creatures left her room and the door was shut and locked. From the outside. Shadow settled down for a series of light naps, conserving her strength. She had water and food stored in her hiding place. Getting through that lock on the outside of her cell door was the least of her worries in escaping from the compound. All of that would have to wait until nightfall. 

Another 5 hours.

9.5