Danny Amor's Online Library/Danny Amor's Online Library - Volume 1.iso/html/startrek/crossover/galactica/roggalacticavsenterprise

Text File | 1995-08-20 | 119KB | 2,410 lines

From [e-mail]  Wed May 30 12:34:08 1990
Received: from DRACO.ECE.CMU.EDU by ksuvax1.cis.ksu.edu (SMTP)
    (5.59++/CIS1.1) id AA09618; Wed, 30 May 90 12:34:08 CDT
Received: by draco.ECE.CMU.EDU (5.54-ECE2/5.17)
    id AA20065; Wed, 30 May 90 13:33:35 EDT
Date: Wed, 30 May 90 13:33:35 EDT
From: Roger Brockenbrough <[e-mail]>
Message-Id: <[e-mail]>
To: [e-mail]
Status: OR

ENTERPRISE vs GALACTICA, chapter 1 of 6

To anyone who, with considerable justification, might wonder what exactly this
is, let me (somewhat) explain.
I do not have access to the rec.arts.startrek bboard, but I do have some
friends on Internet who keep me posted on the latest and/or strangest on
various boards.  My recent favorite has been the running debate on the
rec.arts.startrek bulletin board about which ship could kick which ship's butt,
the new Enterprise (NCC-1701D) or the Battlestar Galactica.
  For a while we were content to simply read the debate and laugh among our-
selves that people had nothing better to write these.  (Of course, you can
only laugh about that so far before having to explain why you've been FOLLOWING
this debate so faithfully, too.)  However, in the interests of further annoying
a few people, we felt that we should write something which would not just set
the record wrong, but set it DEFINITIVELY wrong, and annoy a maximum number
of people at the same time.  This story is my own fault... but a few others,
including the poor lad posting this for me, are guilty of encouragement.
  So here's a story to that end, which you can either read or, if you DO have
something better to do with your time, discard promptly.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

OPENING SCENE: The Enterprise (the new one, yes) hanging out in space, minding
its own business, when along comes this Romulan Bird of Prey ship thing.  On
board the Enterprise, various people react badly.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard reacts like this...
PICARD: Uh-oh.  Must be another season finale.

First Officer Will Riker reacts like this...
RIKER: I sure hope we get to do some shooting this time.

Weapons Officer (and Klingon) Worf reacts like this...
WORF: Klingon honor dictates that we shred them to bits.

Acting Doofus Wesley Crusher reacts like this...
WESLEY: Ho hum, I'll probably have to save the ship again...

And the rest of the bridge crew reacts like this...
EVERYONE: Will you SHUT UP, WESLEY!!!

The Romulan ship appears not to react at all.

PICARD: What do you make of it, Will?  They're just sitting there.
RIKER: Looks hostile to me, sir.  Need I remind you that the Romulans live for
 nothing but fights, destruction, and painting neat stuff on their ships?
PICARD: You need not.
RIKER: Then let's blast them before they, uh... well, whatever mean nasty
 thing I'm sure they're planning.
PICARD: No.  Let's see what they're up to.  Open a hailing frequency, Uhura.
UHURA: I'm not in this series.
PICARD: Right.  Uh, somebody get that.  Anybody; you've all got the same
 blinking bits to push anyways.
GEORDI: Hey wait everybody.  Look what's happening on the screen.
EVERYONE: Oooh.  Aahh.  What the...?
PICARD: Interesting.  Geordi, what do you make of it?
GEORDI: Well, I see lots of vertical lines...
RIKER: That's that banana comb you've got over your eyes.
GEORDI: Oh, right.  Okay, I see pulsating swirls of strange colors, extending
 even into the invisible radiation frequencies.  Data, what do you think?
DATA: Records have many similar references, but none without the aid of
 recreational pharmaceuticals.
PICARD: Any theories?
DATA: Check what went into the crew's lunch today.
PICARD: Uhhh... any OTHER theories?
DATA: Possibly another of those space-time warp things, sir.  The possibilities
 are virtually limited only by the writer's imagination.
PICARD: Is this something the Romulans are doing?
DATA: It seems unlikely, sir.  They, too, are scanning the object.
TROI: Captain, I sense confusion and distrust on the Romulan vessel.  They are
 no doubt wondering if WE are responsible.
PICARD: Hmm... what do you make of this, Will?
RIKER: It's got to be a Romulan trick.  Let's blast them AND the phenomenon!
PICARD: No.
RIKER: We never blast anything.  I thought this was gonna be a fun ship.
PICARD: However, you COULD assemble your Away Team.
RIKER: Okay!  But what for?
PICARD: I just want you to go Away.

Suddenly the Enterprise is rocked by an attack, or at least the camera bounces
around a good bit.

WORF: Sir!  The Romulans are attacking!
WESLEY: Minor damage and extreme annoyance on all decks, sir.  Shall I save
 the ship now?
PICARD: Not yet, anyway.  Worf, status?
WORF: Red alert, shields up, phaser and photon torpedoes ready, adrenalin
 flowing freely.  I recommend immediate retaliation.
PICARD: That depends.  Will, what do you say?
RIKER: Hit 'em hard.
PICARD: No, then.  We'll sit here and take it.
WORF: Sir!! Klingon honor demands we kick their butts, sir!
PICARD: Well... okay then.  Fire away.
DATA: Sir!  The phenomenon is expanding!  It appears it will swallow both
 ships...
WORF: I think I can still get this shot off...

At this point, of course, there would have to be a commercial break.
Once the commercial break was past, we would find ourselves in a totally new
situation, which at first would appear to be totally unrelated.  This time,
hanging about in space and minding its own business, is the Battlestar
Galactica, along with a rag-tag fleet comprised of various vehicles well past
their prime and not that good to start with-- mostly Chrysler Volares.
Zipping about like mad since they have nothing better to do with their fuel
are a few small Viper fightercraft.  In the cockpits of these small craft, a
conversation is going on...

APOLLO: Well, another sector completed.  Still no sign of Cylon nasties.
STARBUCK: Yes, well, isn't that surprising.  We're flying around ahead of the
 fleet, the Cylons are behind the fleet, what did we expect?
APOLLO: You never know when the Cylons could circle around in front of us.
STARBUCK: How long has it been since they bothered?  In fact, there hasn't
 been ANYTHING exciting in quite some time.  I wonder if maybe our series was
 canceled.
APOLLO: Quit your babbling, do you see what I see?
STARBUCK: Well, I think so.
APOLLO: What do you see?
STARBUCK: Stars.  Lots of them.
APOLLO: Besides that.
STARBUCK: Uh... black space in between them?
APOLLO: Are you even looking?
STARBUCK: Well... you remember my idea for a way to get my cigars in my flight
 suit?
APOLLO: Please don't tell me.
STARBUCK: It works great except for all this smoke.  Can't see felgercarb
 through it...
APOLLO: Great.  And you're on patrol.  Well, I'll tell you what I see.
STARBUCK: Do that.
APOLLO: There's an area of swirling colors and strange, whorling patterns.
STARBUCK: Oh, so you DID try some of that drink in the rec room?
APOLLO: NO, there's something out here!  Look at your sensors!
STARBUCK: Sensors... right.  Squarish screen, lower middle of the panel,
 right?
APOLLO: Arggh.  We've got to get back and warn the fleet.  C'mon!
STARBUCK:  Right.  I'll follow your vapor trail.  At least I can see that...

Shortly, Apollo and a slightly woozy Starbuck report to Commander Adama, on
the bridge of the Galactica.

APOLLO: Commander, sir, pilots Apollo and Starbuck to report.
ADAMA: I'll have no such familiarity on this bridge.
APOLLO: Sorry, daddy. Listen, pop, while I was out in the Viper...
ADAMA: You didn't hit anything, did you?
APOLLO: No, dad, listen--
ADAMA: You got a ticket?
APOLLO: NO, we just--
ADAMA: Well, what did you do this time?
APOLLO: We saw this area of swirling lights and flowing colors.
ADAMA: That does it.  How many times have I told you not to fly right after a
 party.  You're in big trouble now mister.
APOLLO: But, I wasn't...
ADAMA: Starbuck, you I can trust.  What really happened out there?
STARBUCK: Oh.  Well, uh, we... what was it?
APOLLO: Flashing colors.
STARBUCK: Yeah, flashing colors, we saw flashing colors, and what was that
 other thing?
APOLLO: Swirling lights.
STARBUCK: Yeah, that was it, swirling lights, man you shoulda seen those
 swirling lights.
ADAMA: Where?
APOLLO: Sector 6.02x10^23.
ADAMA: Whatzat?
APOLLO: The area in front of us.
ADAMA: So we're headed for some strange spatial phenomenon, then?
APOLLO: Uh, yes sir.  We should be picking it up on the forward sensors in a
 few centons.
TIGH: Commander Alpo-- I mean, Adama, we're actually picking up some sort of
 sensor disturbance right now.
ADAMA: Put it on some screens.
TIGH: Which ones, sir?
ADAMA: Umm... pre-empt MTV for this.
TIGH: Yes sir.  Image is ready... now.
ADAMA: Hmmm... Colonel Tigh, I thought I told you to pre-empt MTV.
TIGH: I did, sir.  That IS the sensor image.
ADAMA: Oh.  Very strange.  It's growing to encompass us, too, isn't it?
TIGH: Well, yes, sir, it is.
ADAMA: Can we outrun it?
TIGH: Let me see... yes, we could, but we'd have to leave our fleet behind.
ADAMA: Where is the Council of the Twelve now?
TIGH: Here, on board the Galactica.
ADAMA: Oh well, no point in abandoning the fleet then.  Hold position here,
 and let's see what is facing us...

There is a tense moment for everyone but Starbuck, who is attempting to
seduce one of the console technicians while Athena isn't looking.  Then the
colors wash over the fleet, the bridge rocks a little bit, and the screens
suddenly clear to a whole new star pattern, somehow brighter and fuller.  And
five gazillion alarms all go off at the same time.

TIGH: Sir! We have a ship dead ahead!
ATHENA: Make that two ships!  One just appeared in our sensor scan!
STARBUCK: Well, maybe AFTER the crisis we could get together in my cabin for
 a friendly drink or two?
ADAMA: What are they?  Is it Cylons?
TIGH: Don't know, but they're firing!

A blast rocks the Galactica's cameras.  Those red lights go on that make
everything ten times harder to see.  Smoke drifts in the air, but it's mostly
coming from Starbuck's flight helmet.

TIGH: Some sort of pulse energy weapon, sir.  Moving at substantially sub-
 light velocity.  But it packs quite a wallop.
ADAMA: What's our damage?
ATHENA: We seem to have suffered no structural damage, although I don't know
 why.  We have reports of minor injuries all over the ship.  I have the
 Council of the Twelve on hold on lines three through fourteen.
ADAMA: What's the other ship doing?
TIGH: Moving off, it seems.  That ship... appears to have a bird painted on
 it.  I don't believe these are Cylon vessels.
ADAMA: No, but whatever they are, they have attacked our fleet.  Apollo!
 Starbuck!
APOLLO: Sir!
STARBUCK: Look, one drink won't make you lose any control of... uh, what?
ADAMA: Assemble blue squadron!  Get clear of the Galactica, take up defensive
 posture around the fleet, and await my orders!
APOLLO: Right!
STARBUCK: Errmm... right!
ADAMA: Colonel Tigh, open fire on the hostile vessel when ready.  Keep spare
 batteries trained on that other ship; we don't know WHAT we've gotten into
 here...

Of course, the hostile vessel is the Enterprise, whose last shot intended for
the Romulan Bird of Prey went wild and smacked the Galactica a good one.  Also
of course, Worf will never admit that he did any such thing.

PICARD: What happened?  Did we just fire at that ship?
WORF: I didn't do anything, sir.
RIKER: I didn't see anything either.  Sensors were all a jumble there for a
 second... where are we, anyway?
DATA: Attempting to get a fix on the star positions now, sir.  So far, nothing
 correlates within a reasonable radius.  Increasing the search.
PICARD: What is that ship?
DATA: Also unknown, sir.
RIKER: It could be Romulan.  They may be behind this all.  Let's blast it.
PICARD: No, I'd like to know what they're up to.
WORF: They are firing energy cannons at us, sir.
PICARD: Okay, now I know.  Red alert!
WESLEY: May I save the ship now?
PICARD: Permission denied.  Sit down and shut up.  Don't you have homework to
 do?
WESLEY: You wouldn't treat me like that if I were older.
PICARD: You wouldn't whine like that either.  Do as you're told.  Worf,
 return fire, but aim to damage, not destroy.
WORF: Damage, as in screaming pain?
PICARD: Uh... no, damage as in, cannons inoperable.
WORF: Damn.
TROI: Captain, I sense a great many beings with conflicting emotions.
PICARD: Well, there are three ships in a tight area here.
GEORDI: Four, Captain.  Another ship just appeared on the periphery.  It
 appears to be a Klingon vessel.
PICARD: What do you make of that, Worf?
WORF: I'm busy destroying that ship, sir.
PICARD: Yes, well, that's the fifth shot you've taken that hasn't made a dent
 in them so knock it off.
DATA: Actually, apart from heavy shaking, we appear to be undamaged as well.
RIKER: Data, have you found our location yet?
DATA: Well, not yet, sir.  I am still working on that as well.
RIKER: Well work on it more, and stop giving us this "undamaged" stuff.  We're
 at war here, and I don't want anything distracting us from that.
WORF: That's a Klingon ship all right, but not a recent design.
PICARD: How can you tell?
WORF: It's nowhere near as ugly as the way we make them now.  Look, it's
 mostly smooth.
PICARD: Well, how did it get here?
GEORDI: How did ANY of us get here?
WESLEY: When do I get to save the ship?
EVERYONE: Shut up, Wesley!!
DATA: Another vessel just appeared on the scanners, sir.  Once again, unable
 to identify.
PICARD: Is there a pattern to these appearances?
DATA: Yes, sir.  So far, no object has appeared inside another.
RIKER: Find our position yet?
DATA: Working on it.  So far I've ruled out the entire galaxy.
PICARD: Why is that ship still firing at us?
GEORDI: Actually, it seems that the large ship with all the cannons is
 shielding a number of smaller ships, all of varying but unfamiliar
 configuration.  At least, I don't recognize them.  We could ask Data, but it
 looks like Commander Riker would hurt him.
PICARD: So they may actually be taking a defensive posture?
WORF: Sir! Klingon honor demands that we not consider such possibilities!  We
 must take steps to destroy them!
PICARD: You tried phasers, you tried photon torpedoes, and I even heard you try
 one or two Klingon curses under your breath; none of these have done a thing.
 What do you suggest?
WORF: The Romulan ship.  We haven't tried blasting them yet.
PICARD: They haven't fired on us.
WORF: But they could.  We should try this, just to see if this new vessel is
 of Romulan design.
PICARD: How would we know that?
WORF: If our shots just bounce off, we know that both ships employ the same
 technology.  If the Romulan vessel gets trashed, however, we'll know that it
 was a mistake.
PICARD: What do you think, Will?
RIKER: I agree with Worf completely, sir.
PICARD: Good.  We will do no such thing.  Geordi, Data, I'd like you two to
 compile as much information as possible on the technology of that vessel
 blasting away at us.  What can we learn from them?  Worf, I authorize return
 fire on any vessel that fires upon us, but you will break off combat at any
 time that it appears pointless.  Deanna, see if you can sort out those
 emotions to specific sources.  And Wesley, it's your turn to take out the
 trash.
RIKER: What's my function?
PICARD: I've been wondering that since the show started.
DATA: About our position, sir... I've ruled out every known and extrapolated
 point in the known universe.  We are either thoroughly removed from any area
 known to be previously visited by man... or in another universe altogether.
RIKER: Don't be so Sappish.
PICARD: Would you care to explain that statement, Mr. Data?
DATA: I have no explanation.  It's merely a sort of foreshadowing, to keep
 this story from bogging down with all these ships that keep popping up.
GEORDI: Like that last one?  It's very small.  A comprehensive pattern search
 through the computers suggests that it may in fact be a 1987 Ford Escort.
DATA: Intriguing.  Sensors indicate that a major structural element of that
 vehicle is black sticky tape.
PICARD: A Ford Escort?
DATA: Yes sir.  An automobile, from the late twentieth century.  It is not a
 spacecraft at all.  The curious part is, there is a life form on board.  How
 anyone could be alive there escapes me.
PICARD: This is weirder all the time, but I want us to focus on that large
 ship.  All this shooting doesn't appear to be hurting us, but our shields
 can't last forever.
GEORDI: Actually, shields haven't suffered one bit.
PICARD: Oh.  Well... my feet can't take this vibration for much longer.  I'm
 not as young as I once was.
RIKER: Nor have you been for some time.
PICARD: So get cracking on that report.
GEORDI: Okay, but should it include that squadron of small fighters which is
 now attacking us as well?
PICARD: Sure, why not.
WORF: I can blast them, right?
PICARD: We can try...

The new attackers are, of course, Blue Squadron, named after the color the
pilots would become after sitting in a cold dark spaceship for long patrols.
But this is a very active mission now.  Everyone is blasting away like mad at
the Enterprise, which continues not to look like it cares overmuch.

STARBUCK: That ship doesn't look like it cares overmuch that we're blasting
 it!
APOLLO: Possibly because we have yet to do any perceptible damage.  Let's keep
 getting closer.  And look alive; just because they're not firing now doesn't
 mean that they won't.
STARBUCK: Whoops, they just did start.  Yow!
APOLLO: Any damage?
STARBUCK: Uh... no.  But that light beam nailed me good.  I thought I was
 maneuvering better than that.
APOLLO: Maybe their computers are better than our maneuvers.  But as long as
 their weapons aren't hurting us...
EXPENDABLE PILOT: eeeyyyAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHGH!
STARBUCK: No, no, a battle cry is more triumphant than... oh.  Hey Apollo,
 we just lost What's-his-face.
APOLLO: What happened?
STARBUCK: They fired one of those torpedo things.  I don't think the weapon
 itself did any damage, but the shaking seems to have knocked the ship right
 apart.  You know our ships aren't what they used to be.
ANOTHER EXPENDABLE PILOT: aaauuuhhhhRRRRGGGGGGG!
APOLLO: I see that.  Starbuck, get back with the rest of the pilots and return
 to that defensive formation around the fleet.  I'm gonna try something.
STARBUCK: What are you doing?
APOLLO: I think they've only got those couple of torpedo launchers, I'm trying
 to get in close where they can't get me and see just how solid that surface
 REALLY is.
STARBUCK: Sounds risky, pal.  Glad it's YOU doing this.
APOLLO: So far so good, I'm in real close, coming up on the surface-- AaaaHHH!
STARBUCK: What?  What's happening?
APOLLO: Some sort of shielding, I think!  My ship is breaking up on me!
STARBUCK: Eject!  Eject!
APOLLO: What do you think this is, lower atmosphere?  Think!
STARBUCK: Pray!  Pray!
APOLLO: I think that's about it; my ship is blowing--

A large explosion which again fails to in any way affect the Enterprise pretty
well puts an end to that line of thought.

STARBUCK: Well doesn't that really stink.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Did Apollo really die?  Who will win this battle?  How many of us really care?
How many of us are already so annoyed by just this first chapter to jot off
some quick hate mail right now?

Direct hate mail to:
******************************************************************************
* Internet: [e-mail]  * For T-shirts with "Will Riker for     *
* Home address: withheld for the     * Janitor," send $25 to... well, never  *
*               sake of my life      * mind...                               *
******************************************************************************

From [e-mail]  Wed May 30 12:34:23 1990
Received: from DRACO.ECE.CMU.EDU by ksuvax1.cis.ksu.edu (SMTP)
    (5.59++/CIS1.1) id AA09627; Wed, 30 May 90 12:34:23 CDT
Received: by draco.ECE.CMU.EDU (5.54-ECE2/5.17)
    id AA20069; Wed, 30 May 90 13:33:56 EDT
Date: Wed, 30 May 90 13:33:56 EDT
From: Roger Brockenbrough <[e-mail]>
Message-Id: <[e-mail]>
To: [e-mail]
Status: OR

GALACTICA vs ENTERPRISE, chapter 2 of 6

When last we left this sappy tale, the Enterprise, the Galactica and
miscellaneous other ships had found themselves thrust together via some sort
of space anomaly thing.  In an attack by Blue Squadron on the Enterprise,
Apollo's Viper got close to the Enterprise but then broke up and exploded.

Meanwhile, on board the Enterprise...

WORF: Sir, I've successfully destroyed two of the craft.  The rest are turning
 in cowardly flight.
PICARD: Okay, hold your fire.
WORF: Sir!  You said I need only stop if it seemed pointless.  Clearly it is
 not.
PICARD: They're leaving, Worf.  Let them go.
WORF: Sir, Klingon honor demands that this insult not go unpunished.
PICARD: Funny how Klingon honor always demands whatever it is you're after.
WORF: Klingon honor now demands that I ignore that comment.
PICARD: Good.  Cease firing.  I'm going down to visit our new guest, and when
 I come back, I want a meeting with my heads of staff.

Picard hurries down to the transporter room, where several security people are
keeping a tight, phaser-ready watch on a rather dazed Apollo, who is sitting
on the transporter disk.

PICARD: Keep an eye on him.  Sir: I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the starship
 Enterprise.
APOLLO: You speak my language?
PICARD: It would appear so.  And you are...?
APOLLO: Captain Apollo, of the Battlestar Galactica.  Where am I, and how did
 I get here?
PICARD: You are on board the starship your vessels were attacking.  Further
 details can wait for now.
APOLLO: Then I am a prisoner?
PICARD: Or an ambassador to clear up whatever misunderstanding exists between
 our vessels.
APOLLO: Are you associated with the Cylons?
PICARD: I am not familiar with that name, although our ship's computers may
 have some record.  Someone will be here shortly to collect any information
 you are willing to give us, but for now I need to know why your vessels
 attacked my ship.
APOLLO: What ship is that?
PICARD: Why, this vessel.  The Enterprise.
APOLLO: You command this vessel?
PICARD: Yes.  In... our system of rank, "captain" is generally a starship
 commander.
APOLLO: Oh, I see.  Well, I think our question would be why you fired upon
 the Galactica?
PICARD: We were... engaged in combat with another vessel when both ships
 were engulfed by some form of space-time anomaly, which thrust us here.  I
 assume, then, that one of our shots was affected by this event as well.
APOLLO: You state, then, that you are not responsible for this anomaly?
PICARD: Correct.
APOLLO: Great.  We were brought here by some sort of similar event, I don't
 understand how it happened.
PICARD: Obviously we will attempt to find a way to reverse the situation, but
 at the moment our vessels would appear to be at war.
APOLLO: The other ships which were destroyed... did you somehow capture those
 pilots as well?
PICARD: No, there was not enough time to react in their cases.  Your fighter
 was breaking up slowly enough that we were able to... retrieve you.
APOLLO: I suppose there's no point in asking how that was accomplished.
PICARD: At least at this time, no.
APOLLO: I see.  So what happens now?
PICARD: You'll be taken for a complete physical examination while my officers
 and I decide how to proceed.
APOLLO: So, you're leaving now?
PICARD: Yes, that's quite enough plot development for one scene.

How to proceed is a question on other minds as well.  On board the Galactica,
nobody is quite sure what to do.

ADAMA: Well, cease fire anyway.  It's just using our energy.
TIGH: I don't understand this situation, sir.  Our weapons are useless against
 them, yet their weapons are useless against us.  It doesn't seem to make a
 lot of sense.
ADAMA: And yet we only have sustained losses in the case of a physical impact.
 Colonel Tigh, you should evaluate the possibility of using some sort of
 high-velocity battering ram.  Perhaps we could use one of the ships in our
 fleet.
TIGH: I thought you said high-velocity.
ADAMA: Relatively speaking, of course.
TIGH: Sir, "slow crawl" is nowhere near "high velocity."
ADAMA: Evaluate it anyway.
TIGH: Righty-ho, good enough for me.
ADAMA: All right, now... what's this?

A small child, Boxey, has entered the bridge, accompanied by his pet, Muffit,
a mechanical creature which moves like a monkey and makes noises like it has
serious allergy problems.

BOXEY: You wanted to see me, granddad?
ADAMA: Don't call me granddad, Boxey.
BOXEY: Okay by me, you're not all that great a granddad to start with.  When's
 the last time you took me to a ball game?  When's the last time we just sat
 on a swing and talked?  When's the last time we drank lemonade together?
ADAMA: Boxey, I have something difficult to tell you.
BOXEY: Yeah?
ADAMA: Your dad just kicked the bucket.
BOXEY: Apollo was killed?
ADAMA: Bought the farm, kid.  He's outa here.
BOXEY: Uh.. listen, I'm a bit upset about that.
ADAMA: Here, I'll show you on this monitor.  This is your dad's viper... and
 here it is, blowing up.  I think we can zoom in on that image... yeah, right
 there, that blobby thing?  Could be anything, but I'm betting it's your dad's
 major intestine.
BOXEY: Well, thanks for showing me.  So, is the ship in trouble then?
ADAMA: Yes, well, I believe it may be.
BOXEY: Ho hum, I may just have to save the ship.
ADAMA: Is it just me, or does every starship have a spoiled youngster with
 delusions of grandeur?
TIGH: Excuse me, sir.
BOXEY: Yes, what is it, Tigh?
TIGH: The Council of the Twelve is here to get all over your grandfather's
 case.
ADAMA: Oh, terrific.  Send them in.

A group of nattering idiots enters the bridge, speaking broken Bureaucracy
Babble.  They surround Adama like a squad of grade school playground monitors,
shaking their fingers and looking randomly cross.

BUSH: Commander Adama, this time we will not let you ignore us!
ADAMA: Yes, Councilor Bush.  What is it you want?
BUSH: Er, well, ummm... what was it we wanted again?
QUAYLE: Control of the bridge, sir.
BUSH: Yes, right, control of the bridge.  You cannot keep ignoring our
 demands--
QUAYLE: Opinions.
BUSH: Opinions, yes, that's right, as well as the people's opinions--
QUAYLE: Demands.
BUSH: Demands, right, you can't keep ignoring the demanding people.
ADAMA: And what is it you want me to do, gentlemen?
BUSH: Uh, well, hmmm yes, what was that again?
QUAYLE: What is it we want him to do?
BUSH: Yes, no, the answer, what is our answer?
QUAYLE: Our unanimous will, sir.
BUSH: Oh, right.  We want you to accept the unanimous will of the Council of
 the Eleven.
QUAYLE: Twelve.
BUSH: Twelve.  That's what we want.  ...Twelve?  Are you sure?
QUAYLE: Yes sir.  You're on the Council too.
BUSH: Oh right.
ADAMA: I... see.  And what is the unanimous will of the Council, if I'm not
 hurrying you along too fast?
BUSH: Uh... tell him, men!
COUNCILOR: Blast the big ship!
COUNCILOR 2: No, blast the little ship!
COUNCILOR 3: No, no, it was the ship with the bird on it!
COUNCILOR 4: I liked the motion about raises for the Council myself.
COUNCILOR 5: Don't blast anything unless it's a Cylon!
COUNCILOR 6: No, make peace with the Cylons!
COUNCILOR 7: Forget the Cylons, let's go through that neat color thing again!
COUNCILOR 8: Fire Adama!
COUNCILOR 9: Yeah, fire Adama!  At one of those ships, maybe.
COUNCILOR 10: I seconded the motion about raises for the Council.
BUSH: So, Adama, there you have it.  Do you give in to our wishes?
ADAMA: Which ones?
QUAYLE: Why, all of them of course.
ADAMA: Allow me a moment to consult with my staff.  Psst, Boxey.
BOXEY: Yeah, granddad?
ADAMA: About saving the ship?
BOXEY: Yes sir?
ADAMA: Start by siccing Muffit on the Council members.
BOXEY: You bet!

The scene of pandemonium immediately following this discussion is best left to
the reader's imagination.

Meanwhile, another meeting is taking place on board the Enterprise...

PICARD: Okay, I'd like to call this meeting to order just as soon as you get
 out of my chair, Will.
RIKER: I like this chair.
PICARD: I'm sure you do but it's the Captain's chair.
RIKER: I'll be captain some day, and then you'll be sorry.
PICARD: So will your crew.  Let's get started.  Mr. Data, have you found us
 yet?
DATA: Since it is our own point of reference being considered, sir, it is not
 we that must be found.  Rather, it is our position with respect to what we
 consider home which is the unknown.
PICARD: Thanks for setting us straight on that one, and what have you found?
DATA: That we are, for all practical purposes, completely lost.  There is no
 point of reference to facilitate our return.
RIKER: That does it.  We have no idea where we are, and it's Data's fault.
PICARD: Uh-huh.  Okay, Will, it's your turn.  What did you learn?
RIKER: Weeeellll... I attempted to abduct the inhabitant of that automobile
 for interrogation.
PICARD: Why?
RIKER: He was in the only ship nearby that wasn't shielded.
PICARD: I see.  And?
RIKER: Well... I missed.  I got somebody from an entirely different ship
 instead.  It's probably that transporter chief's fault.  You know, what's-
 his-name.
PICARD: Who did you get?
RIKER: Some strange humanoid alien with two heads and incredibly tacky clothes.
 He said something about being the President of the Galaxy and that our ship
 was pretty hoopy, but I figured we needed more unrelated characters the way
 governments need spending incentives, so I had him identify his ship and sent
 him back to the same coordinates we got him from.
PICARD: Interesting.  Our transporters don't work quite properly here, then?
GEORDI: Perhaps not, but remember we picked up the occupant of that one small
 attacking ship without difficulty.
PICARD: Which brings us to another interesting point.  What caused that small
 ship to break up?  Our guest, Captain Apollo, does not appear to have caused
 its breakup intentionally, yet his ship was still outside the perimeter of
 our shields when it started to go.
DATA: An interesting possibility, sir, is that we are not actually here in a
 complete sense.
PICARD: Explain.
DATA: We may exist in this place only by temporal extension of this ship into
 some other place, and the temporal condition only extends around the ship
 itself.  Similarly, the other vessels may be here by similar extensions.  It
 would also explain why the occupant of the automobile has not suffocated by
 now.  And it would also explain why our weapons do not function properly.
RIKER: What a stupid theory.
DATA: Commander Riker, of course, has been with us in nothing more than a
 temporal extension for some time.  Additionally, the temporal effect may cause
 a distortion in our transporter coordinates as we get further from the area
 of space which can be considered "ours."
PICARD: Is there a way back?
DATA: Unknown.  Perhaps the best approach would be to determine whether any
 of the vessels here represent the agency responsible.
RIKER: I still think it's the Romulans.  Let's blast them.
PICARD: No.  Geordi, any way we can communicate with the other vessels?
GEORDI: It doesn't seem that way.
WORF: Full torpedo salvos.
PICARD: I meant, peaceful communications.
WORF: Oh.
DATA: Actually, that poses a not unreasonable possibility.  Since the shock
 waves did penetrate the temporal barriers, perhaps the best way to communi-
 cate is by sound waves, projected against other ships' barriers.
PICARD: Can we modulate our phaser banks to be the carrier for such a signal?
GEORDI: I suppose it's possible.
WORF: Our weapons, being used for communications?  I don't like this.
PICARD: Deanna, have you come up with anything useful?
TROI: Not much.  There are large numbers of conflicting emotions of all sorts
 around us.  I'm still trying to isolate individual groups.  The only isolated
 source of emotional energy around us appears to be that automobile, and all I
 sense from there is watchful anticipation.
PICARD: Hmm.  Anything else?
TROI: Well, growing frustration and impatience for some sort of conclusion by
 the readers, but I don't suppose that counts.
PICARD: Well... do we want Wesley to save the ship?
EVERYONE: NO!
PICARD: Then we don't have a conclusion just yet.  Geordi, see if you can form
 some sort of communications with our weapons system.  Data, do you think you
 could extrapolate a revised coordinate system for our transporters based upon
 the measured error in Commander Riker's attempt?
DATA: I can try, sir, but it's certain to be a risky situation.  I wouldn't
 recommend sending key personnel on the first several attempts.
PICARD: Sounds good.  Commander Riker, assemble your Away Team.
RIKER: Hey, wait a minute.
PICARD: Anything else?
WORF: Sir, Klingon honor demands that we shoot somebody soon.
PICARD: You can shoot Whoopi Goldberg if she wanders onto the bridge, how
 about that?
WORF: Good enough.
PICARD: Have the Klingon or Romulan vessels done anything?
GEORDI: Well... a little bit ago, the Klingon ship tried to move up next to
 the Romulan ship, the Romulan ship fired a torpedo at it, and the two ships
 took pot shots at one another for a while.  It didn't do them any good
 either, so they quit.
DATA: It is worth pointing out that the Romulan ship is quite possibly
 within the same temporal extension we are, and the protection we have from
 the large battleship's weapons may not exist with the Romulans.
RIKER: Great!  Let's blast them and find out.
PICARD: No.  Shut up about it, would you?  Maintain shields and defensive
 status, and let's see who we can talk to.  Worf, no phaser communications
 with the Romulans if you please.
WORF: Aww.
PICARD: I have no wish to prematurely cook our goose.
DATA: Sir, cook our goose?  What does the meal service have to do with the
 present situation?
PICARD: It's another of those old Earth expressions I like to throw in there
 to show that I'm hip, cool, and three and a half centuries out of date.  It
 means to be in trouble.
DATA: Ah, trouble.  Danger.  Precarious circumstances.  Up the creek without
 a paddle.  Looking death in the eye.  Imminent--
PICARD: That's enough.  Data, I thought you had pretty well gotten over your
 little thesaurus complex.
DATA: Sorry, sir.  I don't know what came over me.
PICARD: Very well.  Let's all get busy, everyone.  I'm sure the readers have
 other things to be doing.

On the Galactica, however, nobody is quite sure what sorts of things to be
doing.  Adama is taking a nap --wait, excuse me: resting his eyes-- when
Colonel Tigh interrupts with news.

TIGH: Sir, wake up!
ADAMA: ZZzzz grrphtthk, wha?  Hrrrmpphhh, gag, yes, Colonel?  I AM awake.
TIGH: Of course, sir.
ADAMA: So what do you want?
TIGH: The large vessel has directed an energy beam weapon at us again.
ADAMA: Doing any more than last time?
TIGH: No sir.  Less.  The beam is steady and at a lower power.  I'm not sure
 what they're trying to do.
ADAMA: Well, that's very odd...
PICARD: Attention, battleship.
TIGH: Huh?
ADAMA: Who said that?
TIGH: It sounds like it's coming from outside the ship!  How can that be?
PICARD: Attention, battleship.  This is the Federation Starship USS Enterprise.
 We would like to establish peaceful communications.
TIGH: This is interesting, sir.  They appear to be using the energy beam as
 a communications carrier.
ADAMA: Could it be that the firing before was simply a communications attempt?
TIGH: No, not unless they were trying to project heavy metal music, sir.
PICARD: Attention, battleship.  This is the Federation Starship USS Enterprise.
 We would like to establish peaceful communications.
ADAMA: Can we respond?
TIGH: Not immediately.  I think we can refit one of our cannons for this
 purpose, though.
ADAMA: Well, let's do it.  I have a thing or two to say to those people!
PICARD: Attention, battleship.  This is the Federation Starship USS Enterprise.
 We would like to establish peaceful communications.
ADAMA: All RIGHT already, we heard you!
TIGH: They've shut off the energy beam.
ADAMA: Thank goodness.  I was afraid they'd put on some Muzak or something.
TIGH: I've put some of our best minds on modifying a laser cannon.
ADAMA: How long do you think?
TIGH: A few minutes at least.  First they have to make it stop shooting those
 little colored pulses and making "kerZAP" sounds.
ADAMA: Harrumph.  We paid a lot for those special effects.  Well, Universal
 did, close enough.
TIGH: Uh, yes sir, whatever you say, sir.
ADAMA: Well... hey look at that!
TIGH: What?
ADAMA: On the screen!
TIGH: Sir, there's about fifteen gazillion screens here.  Are you pointing to
 any screen in particular?
ADAMA: The one with the ship with graffiti all over it.
TIGH: Actually, I think they painted that bird there on purpose.
ADAMA: Well, anyway it's shooting a beam just like that other one, what was it
 called?
TIGH: The USS Enterprise?
ADAMA: Yeah.  Maybe the bird people want to talk to us now.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: Attention, battleship.
ADAMA: Oh, not again.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: This is the Romulan Bird of Prey Garg'zunthicht.
TIGH: Bird of Prey?
ADAMA: Garg'zunthicht?  Sounds like a German just sneezed.  What kind of a
 name is that?
ROMULAN COMMANDER: You're probably wondering what kind of name Garg'zunthicht
 is.
ADAMA: As a matter of fact...
ROMULAN COMMANDER: Well, it's not a very good name.  In fact, it stinks.  It
 doesn't even sound Romulan!
ADAMA: Then why do they use it?
ROMULAN COMMANDER: But we use it because it was my mother's name, so anyone
 who makes fun of it, we'll just have to destroy on the spot, immediately and
 EXTREMELY painfully.
ADAMA: Make a note of that, Tigh.  No making fun of the Romulan Bird of Prey
 Garg'zunthicht.
TIGH: Noted, sir.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: We also desire communications, we just thought we should
 warn you while you make your preparations that any Garg'zunthicht jokes will
 NOT be tolerated thank you very much.  Please respond, and reply to us FIRST.
 Do not attempt to contact the Federation vessel Enterprise.
ADAMA: Why not?
ROMULAN COMMANDER: You're probably wondering, why not?
ADAMA: All right, I'm not feeding this guy any more lines.
TIGH: We'd all appreciate that, sir.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: Well, I'll tell you why not.  They are your enemies, they
 attacked without provocation, they are holding one of your pilots, and their
 ship is fairly tacky looking when you get right down to it.  You fired back
 at them, which makes you allies of the glorious Romulan empire!  Your fight
 is our fight!  Your enemies are our enemies!
ADAMA: Hmm, this could be helpful against the Cylons.  These guys seem pretty
 extreme.
TIGH: Well, the bird on their ship suggests nature lovers.  You know how
 radical conservationists can get.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: So we'll be allies, and destroy the Federation attacker,
 and maybe get together some time so our industrial spies can check out that
 technology you've got there.  Maybe some social time too.
ADAMA: Interesting.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: Reply when you get a chance, but remember: not to the
 Federation vessel.  'Bye!
TIGH: Sir, the message beam is gone.
ADAMA: Well, what do you make of all this?
TIGH: It seems we've stumbled into somebody else's feud.
ADAMA: But if one of these parties can offer aid against the Cylons...
TIGH: If either of these parties can be bothered to drop their own battle.
 It may turn out that we have nothing to gain, and much to lose, from an
 association with either of them.
ADAMA: Perhaps we should ask the Council of the Twelve.
TIGH: Sir???
ADAMA: That was a JOKE, Tigh.  Lighten up, will you?
TIGH: Sorry.
ADAMA: Is it safe to assume that the cannon modifications should be done soon?
TIGH: Yes sir.
ADAMA: So the question becomes: who do we reply to, the Enterprise or the
 Garg'zunthee... gargle'zunthick... grag'zoothich... Tigh?
TIGH: Something like that, sir.
ADAMA: Quick, replay their conversation.  We don't dare call back if we can't
 pronounce his mother's name.
TIGH: I would also like to listen to the conversation again.  Did the Romulan
 say something about the Federation ship holding one of our pilots?
ADAMA: Well, yes, but that can't be... can it?
TIGH: I don't know, but it bears further examination.  It may be that Captain
 Apollo or one of the others escaped destruction.
ADAMA: In which case the question becomes: as an act of mercy, or as a prison-
 er of war?
TIGH: I do not know... but the fact that the Federation ship did not mention
 one of our pilots does not speak well of the situation.
ADAMA: Or it is all a trick to make us distrust that ship?  I do not know,
 Tigh.  The Cylons must be on our tail somewhere, and yet we must tread very
 lightly here.
TIGH: Not really, sir.  This deck is fairly solid.
ADAMA: That's not what I meant.  Pay attention!
TIGH: That was a JOKE, Commander.  Lighten up, will you?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Who will the Galactica side with?  What will be the outcome?  Will Adama or
Tigh ever lighten up?  Will the author ever get serious?

Check the next installment for more of this nonsense...

******************************************************************************
* Internet: [e-mail] * Support the rec.arts.startrek.creative *
* Outernet: [e-mail]_way * bboard concept!  Keep idiots like me   *
*                                   * off the rec.arts.startrek board!       *
******************************************************************************

From [e-mail]  Wed May 30 12:35:04 1990
Received: from DRACO.ECE.CMU.EDU by ksuvax1.cis.ksu.edu (SMTP)
    (5.59++/CIS1.1) id AA09654; Wed, 30 May 90 12:35:04 CDT
Received: by draco.ECE.CMU.EDU (5.54-ECE2/5.17)
    id AA20077; Wed, 30 May 90 13:34:35 EDT
Date: Wed, 30 May 90 13:34:35 EDT
From: Roger Brockenbrough <[e-mail]>
Message-Id: <[e-mail]>
To: [e-mail]
Status: OR

GALACTICA vs ENTERPRISE, chapter 4 of 6

The story at this moment:  due to bizarre applications of poorly understood
physics principles vaguely remembered by this author, the Enterprise, in two
pieces, and a Romulan vessel are hurtling toward each other.  At the last
minute, Wesley's save-the-ship plan is implemented to avoid certain death.
There is an incredible crashing, the very stars seem to shake, and people are
knocked all over the place.  And this is just on the Galaga^H^Hctica.  On board
the Enterprise, in the secondary hull, it feels like the entire ship has just
been fed through a food processor.

Things stop shaking, the normal lights start to come back on, and people pick
themselves up again, very slowly.

PICARD: So, we survived.
DATA: So it would appear.
PICARD: Damage report?
RIKER: We could save some time by asking for a report on things that still
 work.
WORF: Not so.  Most of our systems are operational.  It's just the crew that
 took a beating.
GEORDI: Sir?  Sensor readings are different outside now.
DATA: It would appear we did indeed break the temporal barrier.
PICARD: How is the primary hull?
GEORDI: Drifting not far away.
PICARD: What about the Romulan ship?  Are they still after us?
GEORDI: Checking... sir, the Romulan ship appears to have sustained heavy
 structural damage to the rear.  A large part of their drive system is knocked
 in, and their power is way down!
PICARD: How did that happen?
WORF: Umm, er...
PICARD: Worf?
WORF: I jettisoned some large, heavy cargo pods just before our maneuver.
 Since they didn't warp away like we did, they struck the Romulan dead-on.
PICARD: Excellent work, Worf.
WORF: You approve??
PICARD: Just this once.
WORF: Gee.  So that's what it feels like.
GEORDI: Captain!  The Romulans are firing torpedoes at us!
WORF: Hmm, that wouldn't be so bad if our shields weren't dead.
PICARD: So we're going to die anyway?

The Enterprise shudders a little bit.

GEORDI: They got us.
PICARD: A direct hit on no shields, and we just shuddered a little bit?
DATA: Interesting.  We appear to now be in a SEPARATE temporal boundary from
 the Romulan vessel.  How convenient for us.
PICARD: This is too weird.  Can anybody destroy us at the moment?
DATA: It seems unlikely.
PICARD: Fine.  Let's get damage control parties going, let's link up our two
 hulls again and get that idiot Vader off the bridge, and let's get those
 drinks served I was talking about.  If anybody can see straight afterwards
 we'll have another meeting of the heads of staff.
RIKER: I like this plan.

On board the Battleaxe Galactica, meanwhile, pieces of the puzzle, formerly
theorized only by Data, but now required to be understood by the Galactica
bridge crew in order for the plot to progress in a direction remotely approach-
ing forward, begin to be understood.

ADAMA: I don't know what sort of battle the Federation and Romulan ships are
 used to, but it looks suspiciously like playing Chicken.
TIGH: Commander, sir.  Mr. Wizard to speak with you.
ADAMA: Oh, yes?  Send him in.
MR. WIZARD: Hello, Commander.  I have some theories to share with you for the
 purpose of advancing the plot.
ADAMA: Very good.  Er... who are you again?
MR. WIZARD: I'm the guy who synchronized all two trillion CRTs on this bridge
 to flicker in sync.
ADAMA: Ah, another genius.  Tell me, can you do something about Muffit?  He
 keeps leaving cyber-droppings in the halls, see, and--
MR. WIZARD: That's a different wizard.  Shut up and pay attention.
ADAMA: Sorry.
MR. WIZARD: Our ships here are surrounded by temporal extensions of our own
 place in the universe into this place.  The alien ships were not playing
 Chicken; their attempts to stretch the temporal boundaries too far caused
 them to be hurled back together, and may indeed have shattered the temporal
 boundaries surrounding their ships.
ADAMA: Why, thank you.
MR. WIZARD: Not at all.
ADAMA: Guards, take this man off the bridge and throw him in a small room with
 Boxey until he talks straight.
MR. WIZARD: No, wait!  This is plot!  You need this!  Aaaaaaaahhhhh.....
ADAMA: That's rid of him.  Tigh, what do we do now?
TIGH: No idea, sir.
ADAMA: Okay.  Let's talk to the Romulans.  Rig the cannon for communications.
TIGH: Got it.
ADAMA: Attention, Romulan vessel Garg'zunthicht.  Please respond.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: (gag, ack) This is the Garg'zunthicht.  Whaddya want?
ADAMA: You appear to have had your ship's butt royally kicked.  Do you require
 assistance?
ROMULAN COMMANDER: No, no, that's fine.  We're all fine here.  No real damage.
ADAMA: Yeah, well on our sensors your engines are trashed and your power
 readings are fading.  Boy did you guys get slammed.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: No, really, everything's fine.  We're just conserving our
 strength.
ADAMA: Yeah, sure looks like you'll need all the strength you can conserve
 just to get that bucket moved.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: Really.  Nothing wrong here.
ADAMA: I understand, you must be used to having the back half of your ship
 reduced to compost.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: All RIGHT already!  We suffered SOME damage.  That cursed
 Federation ship.  We'll blow them away momentarily.
ADAMA: Like, when you get one of your weapons rebuilt?
ROMULAN COMMANDER: If I could get my hands on you... er, listen, ally: why
 don't you shoot at the Enterprise some for a while, just for grins?
ADAMA: Righty ho, good enough for me.  Tigh, fire something at the Enterprise.
TIGH: For all the good it'll do...  Firing.  ...Commander!
ADAMA: What?
TIGH: Look!  We did damage that time!  We blasted a nice hole in part of the
 round saucer!
ADAMA: Our weapons are working now!
ROMULAN COMMANDER: Wonderful!  Wonderful!  Shoot again!
ADAMA: Listen, we can probably figure THAT out on our own.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: Well, don't talk!  Blast them!  Destroy the Earth ship!
ADAMA: Right!  Tigh, prepare to THE EARTH SHIP???!!!
ROMULAN COMMANDER: Er, hello?
ADAMA: Did you say, Earth ship??
ROMULAN COMMANDER: Uh... yes.  I did say that.  Why?
ADAMA: We're related to them!  That's our colony!  We've been looking for them
 for yahrens!  They're our friends!  --YIKES, what's happening?
TIGH: Sir, our new-found friends just put a torpedo in one of our launch bays.
 Shields were only partially effective; I think we'll be needing new paint in
 that section.
ADAMA: Wait!  They're FAMILY!  Why are they shooting at us?
TIGH: Because we've been shooting at them since we met?  That's just a guess.
ADAMA: Well, let's explain things!  Aim that communications cannon their way.
TIGH: Yes sir.  ...uh, maybe that wasn't a good idea.  We're melting their
 hull now.
ADAMA: Whoops.  Turn it off.
TIGH: Yes, sir.  Enterprise firing again.  ...well, so much for THAT shield.
ADAMA: We've got to let them know we're friendly!
TIGH: You mean, before we let them blow us out of the sky.
ADAMA: Right!  Oh.  What can we do to communicate?
TIGH: Shoot at the Romulans?
ADAMA: Right!  Good thinking!  Open fire on them!
TIGH: Firing.  Sir, our weapons don't appear to be affecting them, though.
ADAMA: Doesn't matter!  Keep firing!  Launch our fighters, away from the
 Enterprise, and have the rest of the fleet pull back.  If the Enterprise
 doesn't realize we're changing alliances, we're probably cooked.
TIGH: Sir, the Council of the Twelve is on the line, requesting access to the
 escape pods.
ADAMA: Do you think we can trick them into the torpedo tubes instead?
TIGH: Doubtful.  They caught on last time we tried that.
ADAMA: Well, then respectfully tell them they can get fried with the rest of
 us.  Do you think the Enterprise is catching on yet?
TIGH: I don't know.  I imagine they're probably pretty confused right now.

PICARD: I must say, I'm pretty confused right now.  What do you suppose is
 happening?
WORF: I don't know, sir, but they must realize they could destroy us while our
 shields are ineffective.  They certainly put a hole in the primary hull.
RIKER: Let's blast them.  We know we're hurting THEM, now.
DATA: Interesting.  Apparently our ships burst out of OUR temporal boundary
 and into THEIRS.
GEORDI: I wouldn't suggest provoking them to attack us again, sir.  Not while
 our shields are still a mess and we haven't regained the primary hull.
TROI: Captain, I sense a great deal of tension on the Galaga.
PICARD: Galactica.
TROI: Whatever.  It seems like they have suddenly realized some mistake, and
 are hoping to make up for it.
PICARD: Recommendations?
TROI: Seek some sort of peaceful contact with the Galactica.
PICARD: Galaga.
TROI: Whatever.
PICARD: Well, all fine and good.  But what about our primary hull?

An excellent question which deserves an answering scene...

VADER: Why is that OTHER ship firing at me?  Why doesn't anybody like me?
APOLLO: Because your outfit is UGLY.
VADER: What--?  Who are you?
APOLLO: Captain Apollo of the Battlestar Galactica.
VADER: Well, what do you want?
APOLLO: To know what's going on.  Who are you?
VADER: I command this vessel.
APOLLO: What happened to Captain Picard?
VADER: Uh... he's on the other half, over there.
APOLLO: You're part of his crew?
VADER: Uh, no... listen, why am I answering your questions?  Who do you think
 you are?
APOLLO: The man who's relieving you of command.
VADER: What??
APOLLO: The men lying all around the deck here are wearing the same uniform as
 Picard.  So you've taken this vessel by force.  I'm taking it back.  See this
 blaster in my hand?
VADER: You fool, don't you know your weapons are useless against the power of
 the Force?  Here, feel the grip of power...
APOLLO: No thanks, I'll stay right here.
VADER: Wha--?  You're not choking.
APOLLO: I'm not in a choking mood.
VADER: Well, here!  How about this-- the light saber!
APOLLO: How about this-- the Colonial blaster!
--Zap--
VADER: You sizzled my light saber!
APOLLO: Whatever powers you possessed, big and ugly, they've gone away now.
 Let's take a little walk over here.
VADER: What's over here?
APOLLO: The broom closet.  Get in.
VADER: You need me, Apollo.  You'll never figure out the controls of this
 ship without experienced help.
APOLLO: No, I'm betting the computers have context-sensitive help.  Get in
 there.
VADER: All right all right.  I'm in.  But I'll be back out.
APOLLO: I'm sure that's true.  Sooner or later, we'll need a broom.

GEORDI: Captain Picard!  A message from the primary hull!
PICARD: Very well.  Picard here.
APOLLO: Captain Picard, this is Captain Apollo.
PICARD: Huh?  What are you doing on?
APOLLO: I've imprisoned the big ugly guy in the broom closet.  All the shaking
 this vessel has received, plus the big explosion we experienced, broke one
 of the walls out in my cell, so I went to the bridge and saw that the ship
 had been commandeered.
PICARD: Excellent, excellent.  Let's hook these two hulls back together and
 see what's happening.
APOLLO: Not so quickly, Captain.  Is your vessel at war with mine?
PICARD: Uh... I'll be frank.
APOLLO: Please.
PICARD: We're not sure.  We were exchanging shots, but now they've started
 firing upon the Romulans, our enemy.
APOLLO: I see.  What do you plan to do?
PICARD: I don't know.  What would you suggest?
APOLLO: Talking to the Galactica, sir.  See what is really happening here.
PICARD: We don't appear to have any further mode of communications in common,
 though.
APOLLO: So send people over to talk to them.  You DO have shuttle craft of
 some sort, I assume?
PICARD: Yes...
APOLLO: So, if I agree to help join your ship back together, will YOU agree
 to include me on the shuttle that goes to meet them?
PICARD: Very well, Captain.  Turn your bridge computers over to ours.
APOLLO: All right, computers switched over... now.
WORF: Captain!  Now's our chance!  We can make the primary hull's computer do
 anything we want!
PICARD: Worf, why wouldn't we just do what we said we'd do?
WORF: Uh... hmm, I hadn't thought of that, sir.

TIGH: Commander Adama, there's a shuttle of some sort approaching from the
 Enterprise.
ADAMA: Train a cannon on it but don't fire.  Let's see what they do.  Could
 it be a weapon?
TIGH: How should I know, sir?
ADAMA: Don't get smart with me, mister.  I'm allowed to ask asinine questions,
 I'm the commander here.
TIGH: Yes, sir.  The shuttle is slowing down.  They've stopped, sir.  Holding
 position about halfway between us and the Enterprise.
ADAMA: Let's send a shuttle of our own.  Have Lieutenant Starbuck and some of
 his fellow lunatics go meet them.
TIGH: Right.  Uh, Commander, I'm sure the Council of the Twelve would like to
 be represented as well.
ADAMA: You're right.  Have Starbuck and the others slip out quietly before the
 Council knows what's happening.
TIGH: My thoughts exactly.

The two shuttles meet in space.  They connect.  They discover that their
docking bays are incompatible.  Several hours and several new shuttles later,
they get it to work.
  It is for reasons like this that we don't mix stuff from different shows
more often.  There's just too much incompatible technology.

STARBUCK: Apollo!  You're alive!
APOLLO: Starbuck!  You're right!
STARBUCK: Well, wait a centon; I THINK you're alive.  You seem to be alive,
 but I've had some interesting experiences before when drinking that stuff in
 the rec room.  Are you really alive?
APOLLO: (sigh) Yes.
RIKER: So, you two know each other?
STARBUCK: Who's this feeb?
APOLLO: He's Commander Riker, second in command of the Enterprise.
STARBUCK: Oh, so he's important, then?
APOLLO: I can't tell.  I got the impression that Captain Picard just wanted him
 off the bridge for a while.
RIKER: Hey, that's not nice.  ...True, maybe, but definitely not nice.
APOLLO: Well, anyway, this is a momentous meeting between two groups of humans,
 etc. etc.  Now what?
RIKER: Uh, now your fleet surrenders all its forces to our ship, and we all go
 home.
STARBUCK: He's from Earth, did I get that right?
APOLLO: Yeah.
STARBUCK: We've been looking for that colony all this time, and they're all
 nincompoops?
APOLLO: Well, perhaps.  But so are we.
STARBUCK: Good point.  Look, Commander Riker, get a clue.  We're not surrender-
 ing our forces to you or anybody.  Especially when your ship is defenseless
 to ours.
RIKER: Your ship isn't doing so hot against us right now, either.
STARBUCK: We could still kick your butts.
RIKER: Could not.
STARBUCK: Could too.
RIKER: Could not, could not, could not.  Nyaah, nyaah.
APOLLO: Wait.  Gentlemen, I hate to interrupt this witty dialog, but we're not
 here to resume hostilities, but to clear them up.
PICARD: He's right.
RIKER: AAAAGHHHH!  Who said that?
PICARD: I did, Will.  I left your communicator active so I could hear what's
 going on.  Obviously Captain Apollo has more sense in one foot than you've
 ever had in your entire life.
RIKER: Huh?  What's so great about his foot?
PICARD: Never mind.  Do you remember what it was you were SUPPOSED to do in
 this meeting?
RIKER: Uh... blow up their shuttle?
PICARD: Wrong.
RIKER: Hold them captives?
PICARD: Three strikes and you're out a rank, mister.
DATA: Three strikes, sir?
PICARD: Data, stay off this channel.  Especially if you're going to start
 playing word associations again.
RIKER: I... was supposed to welcome the visitors back to the Enterprise for
 some friendly discussion.
PICARD: See, I knew you could do it.
APOLLO: There, finally.  Starbuck, what do you say?
STARBUCK: I don't know.  Friendly discussion, did they say?
PICARD: Well, that and drinks.
STARBUCK: Ah!  Drinks!  That changes things.  Sure, we'll come.
PICARD: Good.  Stand by to beam aboard.
STARBUCK: Stand by to what?

hmmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

STARBUCK: What happened?  Where are we?  Where are the drinks?
APOLLO: We're back on the Enterprise.  This is how I got here in the first
 place.
STARBUCK: Wow.  Weird.  Too bad about those shuttles.
RIKER: What do you mean?
STARBUCK: Since we didn't know if you guys would be friendly, we rigged our
 shuttle to explode if anything weird were to happen to me, or to any of these
 other officers here without speaking parts.
RIKER: What kind of weird?
STARBUCK: I'm not sure exactly what the parameters were, but I'd say getting
 yanked away in a swirl of rainbow colors would qualify.
RIKER: Riker to bridge.  What's going on?
PICARD: The shuttles just exploded.  Wait, the Galactica is firing at us
 again--

CCRRRUMMPP!

RIKER: This time isn't my fault!
PICARD: Shut up, Will.  Worf, do NOT return fire!
RIKER: I just want everybody to understand that this time is not my fault.
PICARD: Bring your guests up to the bridge, and hurry!
RIKER: We're on our way.  Come on, you guys.
STARBUCK: Are we prisoners here, or what?
RIKER: How should I know?  Just get moving!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Is the situation Riker's fault?  Will he be blamed anyway?  Does anybody out
there like Riker's character?  These and other questions will still be
unanswered at the end of the next installment.

******************************************************************************
* Internet: [e-mail] * You think YOU need a life?  Check out  *
* Planet of origin: debatable       * the author of THIS story...            *
******************************************************************************
                                                ^
                                                |
                                                |
                                     No argument there, Marky boy.


From [e-mail]  Wed May 30 12:34:44 1990
Received: from DRACO.ECE.CMU.EDU by ksuvax1.cis.ksu.edu (SMTP)
    (5.59++/CIS1.1) id AA09637; Wed, 30 May 90 12:34:44 CDT
Received: by draco.ECE.CMU.EDU (5.54-ECE2/5.17)
    id AA20073; Wed, 30 May 90 13:34:15 EDT
Date: Wed, 30 May 90 13:34:15 EDT
From: Roger Brockenbrough <[e-mail]>
Message-Id: <[e-mail]>
To: [e-mail]
Status: OR

ENTERPRISE vs GALACTICA, chapter 3 of 6

For no apparent reason, some of you are still reading this story.  OK... the
Enterprise and the Romulans have each contacted the Galactica in an effort to
make mutually exclusive friends.  On board the Galactica, people are confused.
On board the Enterprise, there is also much to keep people's interest.

RIKER: Those copy cats!  Those copy cats!
PICARD: What are you ranting about?
RIKER: They stole our idea!
PICARD: Who stole which?
RIKER: The Romulans!  They saw us communicating on a phaser beam, and they
 did the same thing.
PICARD: Do we know what they said?
GEORDI: Negative.  I tried to measure the vibrations with our ship's sensors
 but they couldn't pick up the actual signals.
PICARD: Well, what good are they?
WESLEY: If you won't let me save the ship, at least let me rewire the sensor
 banks to interpret future transmissions.
PICARD: Will you stop your whining?
WESLEY: I wasn't... uh, yes sir.
PICARD: Good.  Get to it.  Counselor Troi, what do you think the Romulans
 are up to?
TROI: I sense meanness... scheming evil intended for the enemy vessel...
RIKER: Well there you go.  Let's blast them.
TROI: And that's just from Will here.
RIKER: Er, what??
TROI: But the Romulans are up to something.  I can sense that, Captain.  That
 and embarrassment about the ship's name.
PICARD: Great.  Any other good news, anyone?
GEORDI: Another vessel incoming.
PICARD: Ah.  What now?
GEORDI: Another small one.  It seems to be tumbling out of control.
PICARD: Can we ignore it?
GEORDI: Only if we move quickly.  It's going to hit us.
PICARD: Worf!
WORF: Weapons ready sir!
PICARD: No no NO.  Tractor beams.  Stop that sucker.
WORF: Oh all RIGHT, if it'll make you wimps happy.  Gotcha!  I stopped it.
DATA: With a deceleration in excess of forty Gs.
GEORDI: Well, scratch that pilot.
DATA: Not exactly scratch.  More like splatter.  Or puree.
PICARD: Once again, Mr. Data, you are babbling at the mouth.
DATA: Babbling.  Running on.  Talking excessively and to no purpose.
PICARD: Would you kindly shut up.
DATA: Shut up.  Silence.  Cease talking.  Be quiet.  Clam up.  Shut your trap.
 Seal it-- mmhmmmhhmmm.  mmm hmmmm mmm.  hmmmhmmmmmmhhmm... Oh.  Who put
 that bucket over my head?
GEORDI: Actually it looks like that pilot survived.  Sensors indicate life.
WORF: Well, I tried.
PICARD: What can you tell us about this latest ship?
GEORDI: Small single-person vessel, not long range for sure.  It seems to
 operate on ion engines, but I gather those panels on the side are for some
 sort of recharging or shielding.  A fighter, I'd say, but no configuration
 I ever saw before.  Also damaged; one of the panels is damaged and there
 appears to be structural damage to one of the engine mounts.  Power readings
 are pretty weak, too, but I don't know what's normal for this craft.
PICARD: Can we do a rescue?  Pull it into the shuttle bay?
GEORDI: Sure thing, Captain.
PICARD: Do that.  Worf, don't touch the tractor beam controls ever again.
WORF: Klingon honor demands that I defend myself.
PICARD: Well, do it in writing.  This story is too long to add more dialog.
 Where were we?
RIKER: Worrying about the Romulans.
PICARD: Oh yes.  I suppose you think we should blast them.
RIKER: Yes sir!
PICARD: How about, instead of that, you take an Away Team on board their
 vessel and sabotage their weapons systems!
RIKER: Uh, yeah, but their shields are up.  If I try to transport through
 their shields I'll arrive in a consistency like tapioca pudding.
PICARD: Drat, I didn't think you knew that.
GEORDI: The small vessel is docked in our hangar bay.
PICARD: That's good, I guess.  Uh, what about the large ship?  Have they tried
 to talk back to us?
GEORDI: Not yet, sir.  I imagine they're probably modifying one of their
 cannons for the task.
PICARD: How long would that take?
GEORDI: Hard to say.  First they'd have to deactivate the circuit that makes
 the "kerZAP" sounds.  That's always a tricky one.
PICARD: I see.  Well, I suppose I should go down and meet our newest guest,
 or whatever is left of him.
WORF: Wait, sir.  Look!
PICARD: Uh oh.  The battleship is talking... but not to us.  To the Romulans.
RIKER: Well there you go.  Let's blast them both.
PICARD: I'm getting really sick of hearing that.
RIKER: Well, then give in.
PICARD: I have another idea.
RIKER: I won't like it.
PICARD: That's the point.  I think we should separate the hulls, and send the
 primary hull away from the area, since things are looking precarious.
RIKER: So we're getting ready to fight?
PICARD: Maybe.  Oh, and Will?  By the way, I'd like YOU to command the primary
 hull in going away.
RIKER: What??!!  Aww, MAN!
PICARD: Just do it, before I do something which I probably wouldn't regret.

Meanwhile, the Galactica's bridge crew (Adama, Tigh, and two dozen people who
never get any better speaking parts then "Section Twelve, Launch Bay Alpha,
stand by to launch viper probe," truly a boring sort of bit part don't you
think?) is also considering action they may regret.

ADAMA: I don't know, Tigh.  It's an action we might regret.
TIGH: That's why you're the Commander and not me.  Somebody has to take the
 felgercarb, and frankly I don't want it.
ADAMA: Thanks all the same.
TIGH: Well, what are you going to do?  Throw in with the Romulans?
ADAMA: We have to ask what the Romulans want, though.  We've already shown
 that our weapons don't have any affect on the Enterprise.  So what sort of
 allies would we be to them?
TIGH: It's another good question.
ADAMA: Maybe we should contact the Enterprise and see what they have to say.
TIGH: The Romulans said that if they see us do that, they'll destroy us.
ADAMA: Which they may or may not have the means to do.
TIGH: Right.
ADAMA: Wait.  What if the Romulans don't know we talk to them?
TIGH: How could we do that?
ADAMA: We already took out the part of the cannon that makes the "kerZAP"
 sounds.  All we'd have to do is ALSO take out the part that makes the pretty
 bright light.
TIGH: Sir, you're a genius.
ADAMA: You mean that'll work?
TIGH: I think so, yes.
ADAMA: Gosh.  I mean, yes, of course, I knew it all along.  Colonel, see to
 this.
TIGH: Right.  Giving the orders... okay.
ADAMA: How come you never talk to anyone to do that?
TIGH: I don't have to.  I just set the engine room telegraph to "Engines Stop;
 Make Laser Cannon Colorless" and somebody will take care of it.
ADAMA: Gosh, isn't high tech neat?
TIGH: The question is, what can we ask the Enterprise to find out their true
 nature?
ADAMA: Hmmm... ask them about our pilot.  See what they tell us.
TIGH: There's a thought.  Okay, the engine room is showing "Laser Cannon Now
 Colorless."  Let's give this a try, sir...

Meanwhile, on board the Enterprise, Picard has made his way to the shuttle
bay while the rest of the bridge crew switches to the battle bridge in the
starship's secondary hull.  The pilot of the damaged fighter ship has gotten
out, and a strange looking figure this is...

PICARD: Good heavens, what sort of being is this?
VADER: I (hiss) am (hiss) Darth (hiss) Vader.
PICARD: I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard, of the Federation Starship USS
 Enterprise.  Welcome aboard.
VADER: Are (hiss) you (hiss) the one (hiss) responsible (hiss) for (hiss)
 knocking (hiss) my ship (hiss) all around (hissss)?
PICARD: No.
VADER: I guess I can quit this hissing, then.  I just do that to intimidate
 people.  Right now I could intimidate a few people, let me tell you.  What
 a day I have had.  A bunch of rebels just blew up my space station!
PICARD: I see.  Is that your natural appearance, or are you wearing some
 sort of armor?
VADER: This is my body armor.  My natural appearance is actually worse.  Or
 at least, less socially acceptable.  What manner of vessel am I on?
PICARD: A Federation starship.
VADER: Are you allied with the Empire?
PICARD: Uh... which Empire?
VADER: The Empire.  THE Empire.
PICARD: Sorry, we seem to be out of touch.  Where I come from there is a
 Klingon empire, and we're allied with them, and a Romulan empire, and we're
 not allied with them.  Does this help?
VADER: Not a bit.  Never mind, I need to get back.
PICARD: So do we, so far to no avail.  Is this your natural section of space,
 or did you pass through a brightly colored, cloudy discontinuity?
VADER: Oh, so that was real?  I was seeing lots of things after my ship went
 into a spin.  But that's not important.  I must get back to the Emperor,
 quickly, and make sure he understands that the whole ugly mess was Tarkin's
 fault, not mine, and that I should be promoted.
PICARD: When we get out of here we'll send you on your way.
VADER: Very well, I will command your efforts.
PICARD: In a pig's eye.
VADER: (hiss) What (hiss) did (hiss) you (hiss) say (hissssss)??
PICARD: I said, you're welcome as our guest while we try to resolve about
 five different problems at the same time, but you are simply that, and not
 in command here.
ADAMA: Attention Federation vessel!
VADER: What was that?
ADAMA: Attention Federation vessel!  This is the Battlestar Galactica.  Are
 you holding one of our pilots?  Please respond.
PICARD: Whoops, I've got to get to the bridge.  Security!
VADER: Whoa.  For a moment I thought it was the Emperor!  I hate it when he
 sneaks up on me with that big projection...
PICARD: Security, keep an eye on this fellow.  Keep him on the primary hull
 when we separate.  I'll be on the battle bridge...

Picard hurries to the battle bridge, where the full bridge crew (except Riker)
is present.  He presses one of the buttons which, on the last episode, was
the garage door opener, but on this episode controls the phaser communications
link.

PICARD: This is Jean-Luc Picard of the Enterprise.
ADAMA: Are you holding one of our pilots?
PICARD: We... currently have one pilot on board, your Captain Apollo.

There is a moment of silence.

PICARD: Well, what do you all think?  Did I say the right thing?

The Enterprise goes KERRRUMP as the Galactica opens fire.

WORF: I would say... no.
GEORDI: The Romulan ship is also opening fire on us, sir.

The Enterprise begins to shake about in a distinctly more pronounced way.

GEORDI: Sir, the Romulan shots are working normally.  Shields are taking a
 real pounding this time!  Nothing's blocking THOSE shots.
PICARD: Return fire!  Worf, put that cursed Klingon honor to some good use.
WORF: Opening fire, sir.  (I love this part of my job.)
WESLEY: And Commander Riker's not here to see it.
PICARD: I want the primary hull separated NOW.
GEORDI: The order is given.  Splitting now.
PICARD: How are we doing?
WORF: Shields weakening, sir.  Still returning fire.
PICARD: How are the Romulans doing?  Sensors?
WESLEY: Uh... I rewired them to monitor phaser communications links.
PICARD: All of them?  You mean the regular abilities are GONE now?
WESLEY: Well, yes.
PICARD: FIX THEM!
WESLEY: A major engineering task performed in mere minutes from two different
 bridges, and do I get thanks?  No.  Do I get abuse?  Oh, yes.
PICARD: Fix them AND stop whining or you're going to your room, where you will
 die horribly like the rest of us.
WESLEY: All right all right...
PICARD: Worf, concentrate on the Romulan ship; we'll assume that the Galactica
 isn't affected by our shots.  Geordi, did the primary hull get away?
GEORDI: They're heading out of the engagement now.
PICARD: Put me on with Commander Riker.
FUDD: Hello, this is acting bridge officer Lieutenant Fudd on the primary
 hull.
PICARD: Yes, Commander Riker please.
FUDD: Uh, he's not on board sir.
PICARD: What?  Where is he?
FUDD: He stayed on board the secondary hull, sir.
RIKER: Here I am, sir.
PICARD: Commander, what are you doing on this vessel?  Didn't I order you to
 take command of the primary hull?  You'd even get to use the captain's
 chair.  But instead you are here.
RIKER: I meant to go, really I did, but I was in the john when they split,
 and wouldn't you know it, it was a john in the secondary hull, boy was I
 upset to learn that, and... uh...
FUDD: That's not what happened, Captain.
RIKER: You shut up, Fudd!
FUDD: That's not what happened.  He did it on purpose.  I saw him.
RIKER: Nobody likes a tattle-tale, Fudd.
PICARD: Well, all I can say is... Fudd, what's the matter?
RIKER: What kind of comment is that?  Oh... Lieutenant Fudd is choking.  Well!
 Maybe next time he won't be so quick to be a tattle-tale, now will he?
PICARD: What is it?  What are you choking on?
FUDD: Acckk, gasp!  Aaaaaauuuuuugggghhhhhhh...  (thud.)
PICARD: Hello?  Hello?  Primary hull?
RIKER: I think I heard a thud.
PICARD: A fudd?
RIKER: No, a thud.  A falling-down-dead sort of sound.
VADER: Hello again, Captain Picard.
PICARD: What are you doing on that bridge???
VADER: Taking command, of course.  I have displaced your security forces and
 your bridge crew.  I can find my own way home now.
PICARD: Dammit, Will, you were supposed to BE on that hull.
RIKER: But I'd be dead now.
PICARD: Precisely.  Listen, Vader...
VADER: I'm not interested, Captain Picard.  Be glad we are now on separate
 vessels... or I would have to deal with you as well.
PICARD: Wait, Vader, there are innocent men, women and children aboard that
 hull... hello?  Hello!  He hung up.  He hung up!
GEORDI: Could be worse.  He could have called collect.
PICARD: Well, this is great.  Just great.  Anything else anyone would like
 to share with me?
WORF: Our shields are just about to collapse.
PICARD: Well thank YOU also.  Mr. Data?
DATA: Captain?
PICARD: Get us out of here.  Full speed away from the Romulan vessel.  Let's
 go after our primary hull.
WORF: Sir! Klingon honor demands that we stay and fight!
PICARD: And die?  Is that it?  Is that what Klingon honor demands?
WORF: Hmmm... maybe that's why our population tends to stay low.
DATA: Warp speed away from the Romulans: course locked in.
PICARD: Engage.

ADAMA: All right, disengage.
TIGH: Sir?
ADAMA: They're fleeing.  Besides which, we didn't accomplish anything anyway.
 Only the Romulan shots had any effect.
TIGH: Well... whose shots made it break up like that?  Theirs or ours?
ADAMA: A good question.  Yet both sections appeared to be powered.  Perhaps
 it was two vessels in tandem.  I wonder which one was the Enterprise?
TIGH: Probably the round one.  Who would give a name like Enterprise to a
 vessel that looks like a headless chicken?
ADAMA: Maybe somebody whose mother wasn't named Garg'zunthicht.
TIGH: Sir, the Romulans are opening communications again.
ADAMA: Okay, rig the cannon for response.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: Attention, Battlestar Galaga.
ADAMA: Galactica.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: Right, Galactica.  That battle was well fought.  The
 cowardly Federation ship turned tail and fled.
ADAMA: Thank you... but we couldn't have done it without you.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: Very true.  But let's celebrate anyway.  Lower your shields
 and we'll send over some of our officers for debriefing and partying.
TIGH: Our shields?  Sir--
ADAMA: Uh, lower our shields?  We can admit a shuttle to one of our hangar
 bays in this status.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: Yes, but we'd like to just beam over.  You need to lower
 your shields so we can do this.
TIGH: Commander, I don't trust this...
ADAMA: Sir, I'm not sure what you mean by "beam over"... but our present
 defensive posture and the number of unknown ships in the vicinity suggest
 that this would be an unsafe move.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: Look, you'll do as your told, or else crrztt pffth...
ADAMA: Don't curse at me, daggit dropping!
TIGH: No, sir, his signal is breaking up.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: zzt ckrk Sorry about that, we're having trouble with the
 communi ffrrzt link here, chkknpft hmmmmm....
ADAMA: What's the matter?
TIGH: Well, it seems the Romulan ship is drifting from its position, and their
 energy beam keeps drifting with them.  Okay, they're correcting with their
 main drive... what's going on here?
ADAMA: Don't ask me, you're the one with five dozen sensors and a Cray at
 your fingertips.
TIGH: They're moving opposite their drive!  They're starting to drift backwards
 even with their drive on!
ADAMA: That doesn't make sense.
TIGH: That's why you're the Commander, you just pick right up on this stuff.

PICARD: What's happening?  Number one?
RIKER: Why do you always ask me?
PICARD: Good question.  Geordi?
GEORDI: We've closed our distance on the primary hull... but they're slowing
 down.  So are we.
PICARD: Well, don't slow down until we reach them.
GEORDI: I'm not, sir.  We're still at full warp.  It's just that we're losing
 speed.  It's almost like we're pushing against some sort of barrier.
UHURA: Message coming in, sir.
PICARD: You're not in this series.
UHURA: Sorry.
PICARD: Open a channel, somebody.
VADER: Captain (hiss) Picard!  (hiss) I demand (hiss) you release me. (hiss)
PICARD: You're in no position to demand anything.  You are holding part of my
 ship.
VADER: (hiss...) If I knew how to work your weapons system you wouldn't be
 saying that.
RIKER: Well boy, isn't he STUPID.  All our computers have context-sensitive
 help.
VADER: Oh yeah?  Thanks.  Wait a minute.
PICARD: Commander Riker!!
RIKER: Whoops.
PICARD: Go stand in the corner.
RIKER: Yes, sir.
WORF: Primary hull opening fire.
PICARD: How are our shields?
WORF: Terrible.  Permission to return fire?
PICARD: No.
WORF: Sir!  Klingon honor demands that we return fire!
PICARD: That's OUR SHIP you want to fire on, laser brains.
WORF: Oh yeah.
GEORDI: Speed dropping off more sharply, sir.  On both hulls.
PICARD: Well, fix that!  New course, heading... er... something away from the
 primary hull AND the Romulans until our shields recharge.
DATA: I have a theory...
PICARD: And we couldn't be more excited.  Later, Mr. Data.
GEORDI: Course change entered... but we're not moving terribly fast.
PICARD: Increase engine output.
GEORDI: I did.  The engine room is calling.
ENGINEER: Captain!  Me engines canna take much mo' o' this!
PICARD: Talk normal.
ENGINEER: Sorry.  Captain, the engines can't take much more of this.
PICARD: So get out and push.  Why does everyone tell me their little problems?
 What do I look like, Dear Abby?
RIKER: Maybe what Abby will look like by the twenty-fourth century, anyway.
PICARD: Mr. Riker, I notice you're not standing in a corner.
RIKER: The bridge is ROUND, sir.  There are no corners to stand in.
PICARD: Keep looking until you find one.  Geordi, are we making progress?
GEORDI: Well... moving out of firing range, but our speed is dropping rapidly.
 We'll be sub-warp in a second.
DATA: I have a theory.
PICARD: All right already.  What is your theory?
DATA: You'll recall that the Romulans were able to fire on us unimpeded by the
 temporal effect.
PICARD: You bet your buns I recall.  And we'll all be recalling it when the
 insurance rates go up on this ship.
DATA: Bet your buns?
PICARD: Don't start.
GEORDI: We're now sub-warp.
PICARD: Go on, Data.
DATA: Very well.  We can then safely assume that the Romulan vessel occupies
 the same temporal extension as this ship, actually both parts of this ship.
PICARD: So far so good.  Is this going somewhere?
DATA: Hopefully.  So in separating the three ships, if we can count the hulls
 as separate entities, in opposing directions, we are in effect STRETCHING the
 temporal extension significantly.  The boundaries of the temporal extension,
 unless it were to break, are impeding our progress.
PICARD: So, we can't go much further, then?
GEORDI: We're now dead in space.
DATA: Actually, Captain, it's much worse than that.
PICARD: Uh... what are you saying?
DATA: It may be that tremendous kinetic energy is being transferred from our
 warp drives into the temporal barrier.  Energy which has to be transferred
 back in some fashion.
PICARD: What does that mean?
WESLEY: I know!  I know!
PICARD: Wesley, are the sensors fixed?
WESLEY: Uh... almost.
PICARD: Shut up then.
GEORDI: Captain!  We're starting to move backwards!
PICARD: Backwards?
GEORDI: So is the primary hull!
PICARD: What the devil does this mean?
DATA: It's what I was trying to say, sir.  Having stretched the boundary to
 its limits... the boundary will now snap back together.
PICARD: Huh?
DATA: And throw the three ships back at each other at warp speeds.
EVERYONE: WHAT!!!
DATA: It's just a theory.
GEORDI: Reverse velocity approaching warp speed.  We're headed back for the
 Romulans all right.
PICARD: So, this is it.  We're going to die.
DATA: Well, that's the gist of the theory, yes.  It cuts through the details
 a bit but you're essentially correct.  We ARE going to die.
PICARD: Number One, come here a minute.
RIKER: Yes sir?  What do you OWWWWWW!!!!
PICARD: That'll be all.
RIKER: You just hit me!
PICARD: You noticed.  I've always wanted to, and if we're about to die now I
 figured I might as well.
WESLEY: Captain!  Captain!  The sensors are fixed!
PICARD: Excellent.  We can watch our impending death in detail.
WESLEY: Can I save the ship now?
PICARD: NO!  Err... does anybody ELSE have an idea for saving the ship?
(dead silence)
PICARD: Frak.  All right, Wesley... what's your plan?
WESLEY: Just before impact, we engage the warp drive in a vector to just miss
 the Romulan ship, and try to break free of the temporal boundary altogether.
PICARD: That's it?
WESLEY: Pretty much, yeah.
PICARD: A simple plan like that, and nobody else on this bridge thought of
 it???!
DATA: By breaking the temporal boundary, we may be breaking whatever small
 link we have with our home galaxy.
PICARD: A plan, however, which does beat dying.  Let's do it.  What about the
 primary hull?
GEORDI: What about it?
PICARD: Could we pick it up with a tractor beam and bring it along with us?
GEORDI: No way.  We'll be traveling at ludicrously high warp.  But we COULD
 use the tractors to push it around the Romulan ship in the other direction
 from us, so at least it won't collide.
PICARD: Uh... right.  Whatever you just said.
GEORDI: We're starting to get close.  Everybody, hold tight, and hope the
 shields are still up to this!
PICARD: I'm the Captain, I get to make general warnings like that.
GEORDI: Sorry, go ahead.
PICARD: Attention, crew!  This is your Captain speaking.  We are going to be
 experiencing some turbulence, so please take your seats and observe the
 "Fasten Seatbelts" signs.  Thank you.
GEORDI: Nice.
PICARD: If we survive this, drinks will be served.  Lots of drinks.
DATA: Closing on the Romulan ship; impact in seven seconds.  Well, make that
 six, er, five really, four, let's call it three, two, uh, well, one...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What will happen next?  ...actually, we know what will happen next, how it
will happen, and why.  Despite this total lack of suspense, many of you will
keep reading anyway.  Go figure.

This story is almost exclusively the fault of:
******************************************************************************
* Internet: [e-mail] * "If 'flame wars' are the object, this  *
* Favorite color: blue              * story must be a Molotov Cocktail."     *
******************************************************************************

From [e-mail]  Wed May 30 12:35:20 1990
Received: from DRACO.ECE.CMU.EDU by ksuvax1.cis.ksu.edu (SMTP)
    (5.59++/CIS1.1) id AA09661; Wed, 30 May 90 12:35:20 CDT
Received: by draco.ECE.CMU.EDU (5.54-ECE2/5.17)
    id AA20082; Wed, 30 May 90 13:34:54 EDT
Date: Wed, 30 May 90 13:34:54 EDT
From: Roger Brockenbrough <[e-mail]>
Message-Id: <[e-mail]>
To: [e-mail]
Status: OR

ENTERPRISE vs GALACTICA, chapter 5 of 6

For any of you who did not read the preceding chapters... now is not a good
time to start.  The Galactica is at war with the Enterprise once more.
On the bridge, things are once again pretty frantic.  (Actually, the only time
the bridge of the Enterprise is a dull place to be is between episodes, which
is also when the characters usually catch up on their sleep.)  Once again,
those annoying red lights are on, but at least everyone's back to the main
bridge, the dead and injured from Vader's brief stint at command have been
cleared away, and the seats are more comfortable than on the battle bridge.
Vader is still periodically ranting from inside the broom closet, but nobody
is really paying attention to that.  (The prevailing theory is that his powers
vanished through prolonged distance from his proper space-time whatsit, but
this theory is about as muddled as the rest of this story.)

PICARD: Worf, how are our shields?
WORF: In a word: bad.
PICARD: How about, in several words?
WORF: Extremely, horrendously, unacceptably bad.
PICARD: I thought we were having Wesley fix them.
WORF: He got some back, but the shots from the Galactica are knocking them
 back down.  Can we PLEASE shoot them back, just a little?
APOLLO: Don't do it.
WORF: You, shut up.
PICARD: Riker, Apollo, guests, what do we do now?
WORF: We blast the Galactica.
STARBUCK: Oh no you don't...
APOLLO: Starbuck, put the gun away.  Listen, whatever your name is...
WORF: I am Worf.
APOLLO: Worf, then.  Whatever happened to your head seems to have scrambled
 your brain, too.  If you return fire, there is no chance for peace, and no
 chance for your vessel.
WORF: Your forces are that good?
APOLLO: They have survived overwhelming odds through vast reaches of space.
 Yes, they're that good.
WORF: Hah!  A challenge!  Klingon honor demands I beat you up.
PICARD: Worf!  Stop being such a bully.  Captain Apollo, how can we indicate
 that we are trying to be friendly, and get the message across BEFORE the
 Galactica's fire does serious damage?  If that happens, we'll have to return
 fire just to protect our own lives.
APOLLO: Well, you should have thought of that before you used that "beam
 aboard" thing.
PICARD: You're a fat lot of help, arrogant twerp.  Keep that up and I'll lock
 you up in a small room with Wesley.
VADER: I could advise.
PICARD: What?  I thought I heard something from inside the broom closet.
VADER: I said, I could advise your battle.
APOLLO: Oh, great.
PICARD: No thanks.  You haven't done so well thus far, you know.
VADER: I was a great warrior in the past, I'll have you know!
PICARD: Was that when your space station got destroyed and your ship bashed up?
VADER: No, before that.  I was a warrior in the Clone Wars.
RIKER: The what?
VADER: Clone Wars.  Mostly a battle to make the universe IBM-compatible.
DATA: Uggh.  What happened?
VADER: We won.  Then we discovered that IBM compatability is a rapidly moving
 target as well as a pain in the rear.  So we ditched them in favor of the
 Risc-2 model processors, and now we've got R2 units everywhere.
PICARD: This is NOT helping.  Is there ANY way to get the Galactica to stop
 shooting at us?

Suddenly, the Galactica stops shooting.

PICARD: Oh, good.  What did we do?  And whose idea was it?
RIKER: Mine.  My idea.
PICARD: I doubt that.
RIKER: Well, it was worth a try.
GEORDI: Captain, we've got a new set of sensor images incoming.
APOLLO: May I see?
GEORDI: Sure.  Computers can't identify them, but then, that's no big surprise
 either, at least here.
APOLLO: Starbuck, do you see what I see?
STARBUCK: In this case, yes.  I'd say that's why the Galactica stopped firing.
PICARD: What is it?
APOLLO: Cylons.  It's the Cylon fleet, our mortal enemies, coming in to destroy
 us.
WORF: Good.
GEORDI: Sensor readings indicate several large ships, and a massive number of
 small fighters.  We're showing life readings on the ships, but very limited
 brain wave traces.  It looks like that planet of network television execu-
 tives we scanned a while back.
PICARD: How long until they get here?
GEORDI: I'd say about ten minutes at the outside.
PICARD: Can we outrun them?
GEORDI: At higher warps, yes, definitely.
DATA: If we don't have more trouble with those temporal boundaries, that is.
GEORDI: Oh yeah.  And if our warp drives are still working properly at the
 moment.
APOLLO: The Colonial Fleet couldn't outrun them.
PICARD: So, the question is this: do we attempt to intervene on behalf of the
 Colonial Fleet and offer assistance, assuming we're NOT still at war with
 them?  Or do we intervene on behalf of the Cylons, assuming we ARE still at
 war with the Galactica?  Or do we sit back and watch, invoking the Prime
 Directive?
STARBUCK: Uh, personally, the first one of those was MY favorite.
PICARD: I don't know that the Prime Directive really applies here... but the
 Galactica has been a most erratic ally.  I personally lean toward staying out
 of the confrontation.
RIKER: You would.
WORF: Sir, Klingon honor demands that we fight SOMEBODY.  It doesn't matter
 who.
APOLLO: I would urge you, Captain Picard, to aid our cause.  Before the battle
 with the Cylons becomes your cause as well, and without the Colonial fleet
 as allies.
STARBUCK: Yeah.  What he said.
PICARD: I don't know.  Will, what do you think?
RIKER: Captain, I say... wait!  I've figured this out!
PICARD: Figured what out?
RIKER: Never mind.  Sir, I strongly recommend that we reject Captain Apollo's
 suggestion, and avoid this fight.
EVERYONE ELSE: Huh?
PICARD: You want to AVOID this fight?
RIKER: Yes sir, that's what I recommend.
PICARD: Frak.  Well, then.  Captain Apollo, we're prepared to aid your cause.
RIKER: Hah!  It works!
DATA: "Frak," Captain?  That's the second time you've said that.
PICARD: So it is.  Uh... actually, I don't know where I got that phrase.
STARBUCK: It's one of our curses.
PICARD: But not one of ours.
DATA: It may be that the more time we spend in these crossed temporal barriers,
 the more our thought processes will overlap, and tend to stray from their
 norms.
PICARD: You mean, we're all acting like lunatics becuase of these temporal
 whatsits?
DATA: Well, at least partially.
GEORDI: It may also explain why Data's back to being a babbling idiot.
DATA: I resemble that remark.
PICARD: We've got to get back home, and soon.
RIKER: Uh, right, let's do that, and let the Galactica rot.
PICARD: Oh yeah, we have to help the Galactica first.  Geordi, are the warp
 engines operational?
GEORDI: They SEEM to be, sir.
PICARD: How about the tractor beams?
GEORDI: Oh, they're fine, sir.  We just can't use them with the shields up,
 that's the only problem.
PICARD: Can we pull the whole Colonial fleet?
GEORDI: No way, sir.  We don't have nearly the power output.
PICARD: Okay, have Wesley redesign the power system so we can do it.  He has
 five minutes.
GEORDI: Sounds good.
APOLLO: Captain, what is it you're planning?
PICARD: Run franticly in the other direction.
STARBUCK: Sounds like good Colonial policy.
APOLLO: None of these other ships can aid us in battle with the Cylons?
PICARD: We are attempting to AVOID this battle, Apollo.  Besides, we've got
 the Romulans out there, who hate our guts, and the Klingons, who may or may
 not be willing to help, and... what other ships?
GEORDI: That Ford Escort, sir.  And various unidentified craft.
PICARD: So, things don't seem really conducive to quick alliances.  Geordi,
 has Wesley redesigned the power system yet?
GEORDI: He just finished.
PICARD: Good.  Lock the Colonial fleet in our tractor beams, Mr. Worf-- no,
 scratch that.  Mr. Data, you do it.  We'd like some of them to survive this
 maneuver.
DATA: Shields down, sir, and tractor beams locked on.
PICARD: Now, let's just hope the Galactica doesn't decide to shoot at us for
 this maneuver.

CCRRUMMPP!!!

PICARD: Zarking fardwarks!! Captain Apollo, when we get out of this, remind me
 to find the commander of the Galactica and punch him in the face.
APOLLO: That's my father you're talking about.
PICARD: Really?  You'll do, then.
APOLLO: OOWWWWWWWCCCHHH!!!
PICARD: I'm starting to really enjoy this episode.
GEORDI: Cylons closing fast, Captain.
PICARD: Right.  Warp engines, thattaway, engage!  Floor it, Geordi.
DATA: Floor it, sir?
PICARD: Go very fast.
DATA: Ah.  Floor it.  Go very fast.  Accelerate.  Punch it.  Get it in gear.
 Positive delta vee.  Hit the road, Jack--
EVERYONE: SHUT UP, DATA!!!
DATA: Oh, right.  Shutting up now.  Sorry about that, I don't know what came
 over me.  Intriguing.
PICARD: Data, I mean it!
DATA: But I am shutting up, sir.  I'm shutting right up now.  You don't have
 to worry about me, when I'm told to shut up I just shut right up.  Some people
 don't know when to shut up, but not me, no sir.  I just shut right up without
 any problem at all.  Pulling away from the Cylons now; I mention this just to
 keep you informed, but really I'm shutting up now so you won't have to listen
 to any excessive chatter or have anything distracting you from the fact that
 the other vessels around us seem to be pulling in closer to us, yes indeed,
 now that I know that you want me to shut up, I'm just shutting right up, and
 I don't think you have anything to worry about as far as me shutting up,
 because like I already told you, I'm good at shutting up.  So I'm done, now.
 That's it.  ...where did everybody go?
VADER: Battle bridge.
DATA: What was that?
VADER: They went back to the battle bridge again.  It's quiet there.
DATA: Why are you still here?
VADER: I'm locked in this stupid broom closet, WHAT DO YOU THINK?  Are you
 STUPID?
DATA: Well, yes, apparently.  Shall I talk to you for a while?
VADER: AAAGHH!!  SOMEBODY LET ME OUTA HERE!!!

On board the Galactica, for variety, the stress is from entirely different
sources.  For example:

ADAMA: I seem to have misplaced my bifocals again.
TIGH: Commander!
ADAMA: Yes, Tigh, what is it now?
TIGH: I think what the Enterprise is doing is pulling us, and our entire fleet,
 out of range of the Cylons.
ADAMA: Oh, so they ARE on our side after all?
TIGH: At least for the moment, that seems to be the case.
ADAMA: This is getting very weird.  I'm having a lot of trouble keeping track
 of when we like them and when we don't.
TIGH: I just hope our men are okay.  Starbuck alone accounts for 37% of our
 audience share in the single young women category.
ADAMA: So, we're currently out-running the Cylon fleet?
TIGH: Correct, sir.  We ought to steal that ship just for their engines.
ADAMA: Maybe we can learn from it from here.  Send Mr. Wizard back in.
TIGH: Just a moment, sir.
MR. WIZARD: You sent for me, Commander?
ADAMA: Yes, I did.  Can we derive the basic technology basis for the engines
 of that ship out there pulling us, and build our own engines like that?
MR. WIZARD: Well, yes but no.
ADAMA: Why but why not?
MR. WIZARD: I've studied the ship out there through my instruments, and have
 come to the basic conclusion that that ship cannot possibly function.
ADAMA: What do you mean?
MR. WIZARD: They seem to be powered by the release of energy from a crystal
 structure which is impossible to our physics.
ADAMA: You mean, we don't know how to do it.
MR. WIZARD: No.  I mean it is physically impossible.  Molecules do not combine
 like that.  Anywhere.
ADAMA: Obviously you're mistaken.
MR. WIZARD: And obviously you're a clueless old geezer who ought to be doing
 dog food commercials.  Listen.  The structural elements of their ship, and
 everything, all show similar molecular structure.  And it's ALL physically
 impossible.  Those materials cannot exist.
ADAMA: What are you saying?
MR. WIZARD: That that ship does not belong in this UNIVERSE at all.  Or else
 we do not.  Or maybe, both.
ADAMA: That's stupid.  They're from EARTH.  Our lost thirteenth colony.  They
 have to be from the same universe.
MR. WIZARD: I didn't write this episode, so don't ask me to explain it.  I'm
 just telling you: the Galactica and the Enterprise do not belong in the same
 universe at all.

On board the Enterprise, back on the battle bridge, other concerns are brewing.
So is some coffee.

GEORDI: Captain, there's something that's bothering me.
PICARD: What, Geordi?
GEORDI: These chairs.  They're nowhere near as comfortable as on the main
 bridge.
PICARD: Well, we've got Wesley working on a volume control for Data, and when
 he's done we can all go back.
RIKER: I like this, keeping Wesley busy making stuff all the time.  It keeps
 him out of sight.
PICARD: It pains me to agree with you, Number One.
RIKER: Don't I know that.
GEORDI: Actually, Captain, there's something else that's bothering me.
PICARD: What is it?
GEORDI: The way the other ships have been pulling close around us.  I mean,
 we're under high warp, and they don't appear to have their engines on at all.
 And that automobile.  I don't think it has a warp drive at all.  But it's
 pulling close too.
PICARD: I see.  Theories?
GEORDI: Maybe the temporal boundary things are doing some weird thing.  I
 don't know; do I look like Data?
RIKER: No.  For one thing, your face doesn't look bleached.
PICARD: What do sensors say about the other ships?
GEORDI: Well, that's weird too.  The sensor readings keep changing subtly.
 It's like they keep drifting out of focus or something, but that's not it.
PICARD: Counsellor Troi, can you tell us anything useful?  For a change?
TROI: I sense lots of people having no idea what's going on.
PICARD: This is not news.
TROI: I also sense someone, or several people, I can't tell where, with a
 sense of anticipation.
PICARD: Could it be the Cylons, perhaps?
TROI: I don't think so.  But it's hard to pin down.
PICARD: Keep trying.
GEORDI: Captain, I have a theory I don't like.
PICARD: Keep it to yourself, then.  We've got enough stress here as it is.
WORF: Sir!  The Romulans are opening fire.
PICARD: Big whoop.  They can't hurt us.

CCRRASSSSHHHH!!!!  (snap, crackle & pop)

GEORDI: Actually, that was the theory I didn't like.  I thought maybe the
 temporal boundaries were combining together.  We're all in the same arena
 now.
PICARD: Great.  Any other good news?
GEORDI: Sure.  That shot there just blew out our main power system.  Warp
 drives inoperative.  We're slowing down.
PICARD: Kill the tractor beam.
GEORDI: It's dead all on its own.
PICARD: Raise our shields!
GEORDI: Actually, we have no shields left.
WORF: Sir!  Permission to blow the Romulans away?
PICARD: Will, what do you think?
RIKER: No way.  Leave those poor guys alone.
PICARD: Permission granted, Worf.  Blow their buns off!
DATA: Blow their buns off, sir?
PICARD: Oh no.  Data, what are you doing here?
DATA: I came down to assist in the mad panic and screaming.
PICARD: If you start running off at the mouth again you're getting re-booted,
 you hear me?
DATA: Yes sir.  Can I assist with anything?
PICARD: We'll let you know.
APOLLO: So what happens now?
PICARD: Well, one well-placed shot and we all die, that's what.  Hey, what is
 the Galaga doing?
APOLLO: Galactica.
PICARD: Whatever.  Where are they going?
APOLLO: It looks to me like they're pulling between you and the Romulans, what
 does it look like to you?
PICARD: So, then, we're allied with the Galactica again?
WORF: Sir, the Klingon ship is firing at us!  What is going on?
PICARD: So, the Klingons are allied with the Romulans for some reason.
GEORDI: But the Romulans just shot at the Klingons.  Now the Klingons are
 returning fire on them.
PICARD: Okay, so the Klingons are back on our side, and the Romulans are
 fighting them.
WORF: Galactica opening fire on the Klingons.
PICARD: Oh, so the Galactica is allied against the Klingons, who are allied
 with us, but also with us, who are against the Romulans, who were allied
 with the Galactica.  No.  Wait, do I have this right?
GEORDI: Doesn't matter, the Galactica switched back to shooting at the
 Romulans.
STARBUCK: I think I need a score card.
APOLLO: I think I need an asprin.
PICARD: I think we need a peace conference.
RIKER: Aw, man, he ALWAYS does this.
APOLLO: Yeah, but if we can't outrun the Cylons, we need to all turn and fight
 them.  So we have to be allies first.
RIKER: My head hurts.
PICARD: Small wonder.  I don't know about this fighting the Cylons bit, but I
 think we need to stop this battle or there'll be nobody left of any of us to
 ever go back home.
DATA: Sir, I find it interesting that we've done almost nothing since coming
 through that space discontinuance thing but battle amongst ourselves in
 various combinations.
PICARD: I find it interesting too, in a MORBID and SICK sort of way.
DATA: What I mean, sir, is that I have to wonder if this wasn't set up delib-
 erately in some way.
PICARD: You mean, that awful "Q" character again?
DATA: Not necessarily.  But the possibility exists that some sort of higher
 intelligence has staged this entire situation.
PICARD: Not again.  Don't these so-called "higher intelligence" types have
 anything to do but mess with people?
DATA: Insufficient data to comment, sir.
PICARD: Well, whatever the cause, we certainly need to come to terms with one
 another.  Now, how do we contact them?
RIKER: How about the radio?
PICARD: Don't be stupid.
RIKER: I am NOT being stupid.  Why do you always assume I'm being stupid?
PICARD: It's true 99% of the time, that's why.
RIKER: Well, in this case it's not.  We can communicate with the Romulans and
 the Klingons, I would think.  The Galactica is already prepared to be at
 peace with us if we can avoid scaring them again, and the other vessels in
 the area just watching all of this appear to be unshielded to transporters.
 So we can have a meeting right here, on the Enterprise, with EVERYBODY.
PICARD: He's got a good point, doesn't he?
GEORDI: Seems that way, sir.
PICARD: I hate that as much as I hate Wesley saving the ship.  Oh well.  Let's
 get this peace thing underway.  Captain Apollo, would you like to take a
 shuttle and go back to the Galactica?
APOLLO: Sounds great to me.
PICARD: Tell your commander that we'll beam him over here, and not to get all
 bent out of shape this time.
APOLLO: Righty ho, good enough for me.
WORF: Sir!  Klingon honor demands that we shoot some more people!
PICARD: Hang on, Worf.  The story's not over yet.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Only one more installment to go, and then you can start flaming in ernest!

Since I don't get rec.arts.startrek in my neck of the Internet woods, post
the really nasty stuff directly to:
******************************************************************************
* Internet: [e-mail] * Any resemblance between the characters *
* Novell Network: network 00000001, * in this story and the original ones is *
*  node 00000000000A (like this is  * entirely coincidental, and DEFINITELY  *
*  helpful somehow)                 * not intentional.                       *
******************************************************************************

From [e-mail]  Wed May 30 12:35:40 1990
Received: from DRACO.ECE.CMU.EDU by ksuvax1.cis.ksu.edu (SMTP)
    (5.59++/CIS1.1) id AA09670; Wed, 30 May 90 12:35:40 CDT
Received: by draco.ECE.CMU.EDU (5.54-ECE2/5.17)
    id AA20086; Wed, 30 May 90 13:35:13 EDT
Date: Wed, 30 May 90 13:35:13 EDT
From: Roger Brockenbrough <[e-mail]>
Message-Id: <[e-mail]>
To: [e-mail]
Status: O

GALACTICA vs ENTERPRISE, chapter 6 of 6

We're on the home stretch here... Picard has decided to hold a peace
conference between the various warring, observing and even disinterested
parties in this story, and find some common ground before the Cylons reach
them and start killing people at random.  (Worf is disappointed by this.)
  After a number of long and tedious conversations we won't report (not to be
confused with all of the long and tedious conversations already part of this
story), an uneasy truce exists on the bridge of the Enterprise (yes, the main
one AGAIN) as representatives of the various ships hang out together and eat
tasteless little hors d'oeuvres.
  The Klingons, however, refrain from this.  Worf is attempting to talk to
the officers from the Klingon ship, and although they are howling at each
other in the manner of badly wounded dogs, they don't appear to understand a
word each other is saying.  Finally they break it off.

WORF: Talk proper Klingon, you fools!
KOLOTH: I AM talking fluent Klingonese, what is YOUR problem?
WORF: Fluent Klingonese from what era?  That's NOTHING like the way Klingons
 talk.  You don't look like proper Klingons, either.
KOLOTH: Oh, I suppose "proper Klingons" all look like they have lobsters
 embedded in their skulls.
WORF: As a matter of fact they do.
KOLOTH: You're no Klingon.  What are you doing on a ship of the enemy?
WORF: The enemy?
KOLOTH: Yes!  A ship even bearing the same name as our hated enemy, James
 Kirk!  Who humiliated us just two days ago at Sherman's planet!
WORF: Wait a minute, James Kirk was captain of the first two "starship
 Enterprise" vessels.  That was years and years ago.
KOLOTH: Years and years, freak?!  We just this morning finished trampling all
 those damned tribbles he inflicted on us!  We'll be picking colored fur and
 tribble guts out of our equipment for years and years, THAT's where the years
 and years come in to this!
WORF: You are obviously deranged.
KOLOTH: And you are obviously a traitor!  Serving on a Federation vessel!
 Wearing Federation pajamas!
WORF: Traitor?  Sir, Klingon honor demands I require your apology!
KOLOTH: Apology?  Fool!  Klingon honor demands I stick my thumb in your eye!
WORF: Ow!  An assault!  Klingon honor demands that I show no pain, but ram my
 fist up your nose!
KOLOTH: Mmff grmffpht mfff--
WORF: Oh, sorry.
KOLOTH: Thank you.  You dog!  Klingon honor demands that I ignore all the blood
 running down my face, and smash you over the head with this chair!
WORF: Oooooooooooofff.  That didn't hurt.  Where'd you go?  Oh.  That was
 nothing, you offspring of Milli Vanilli!  Klingon honor demands I ignore the
 chair leg sticking out of my ear, and stuff you into this tiny service panel
 here--
PICARD: Worf, now that you guys are done greeting each other, come over with
 the rest of us.  This is interesting.
WORF: Do I have to?
PICARD: Now.
KOLOTH: He orders you?  And you call yourself a Klingon??
WORF: I'll settle with you later.
KOLOTH: I look forward to it.
PICARD: Commander Adama, tell us that part again.
ADAMA: In Colonial lore, there was a thirteenth tribe that left the home
 worlds and started another colony far away.  This colony's planet was known
 as Earth.
PICARD: Curious.  Data, can that be?
DATA: It seems most improbable, sir.  Checking computer references now.
PICARD: Commander, what is the source of your information?
ADAMA: Mostly what is written in the book of Kobol.
PICARD: What else does it say?
ADAMA: Lots of weird stuff about writing extremely verbose computer programs,
 and ending every command with a period or the compiler freaks.  The book of
 Kobol isn't very popular with our young people.
PICARD: Indeed?
ADAMA: Yes.  They switched to the book of Fortran, and later the book of C.
 Sacrilegious louts.
GEORDI: How about Ada?  Anybody use that?
ADAMA: (sigh) Ada was written by our Council of the Twelve.  ...You can kind
 of tell, actually.
PICARD: Mr. Data, are you finding anything?
DATA: Actually, yes.  No solid evidence that the Earth was a Colonial tribe
 of any sort, but I did find one interesting reference.  It appears that in
 Earth's late twentieth century, the Battlestar Galactica did reach the planet
 Earth.
STARBUCK: What do you mean, "did reach"?
DATA: It's part of our history from three and a half centuries ago.
ADAMA: So, we are displaced in time right now.  Or we will be.  Either way,
 we know we'll survive this encounter with the Cylons and finally reach the
 Earth!
STARBUCK: That's great!  We're going to make it!
DATA: Er, well...
APOLLO: What's wrong?
DATA: Not by these records, you don't.  When the Galactica reached the Earth,
 apparently neither of you two young men were still alive.  Commander Adama
 here was one of the few still alive.
STARBUCK: Figure that one out, folks.
APOLLO: You mean, Starbuck and I are going to die before we reach Earth?
DATA: Yes.
STARBUCK: That's terrible!
DATA: Not really.  You, for example, were quite a hit on the A-Team, which has
 received a lot more syndication than Battlestar Galactica ever did.
ADAMA: I didn't quite follow that last bit.
DATA: Well, it's hard to tell from our records; what we have on the twentieth
 century seems to be as confusing as the century itself.  But it may be that
 the whole story of the Galactica was a work of fiction.
ADAMA: You're starting to sound like my Mr. Wizard.  In other words, you're
 making absolutely no sense at all.
DATA: What I'm saying is, to the universe from which the Enterprise comes,
 the Earth isn't a Colonial colony, and your vessel and your people never
 really existed.  Just as, in the universe from which you come, the Enterprise
 probably does not exist.
ADAMA: Amazing.  Mr. Wizard said something like that.  He said your ship could
 not exist in our universe.
PICARD: Wait just a minute.  You're saying that these people are a work of
 fiction?
DATA: As we also may be, sir.
PICARD: This explains a lot.  Will Riker must've been a typo.
DATA: An author in the twentieth century, a Robert Heinlein, suggested that
 the works of creative fiction may all have "real" existence in some other
 universe somewhere.
PICARD: And this is another two-bit sci-fi theory we have to take seriously
 now, is that it?
DATA: Basically.
WORF: This explains a lot.  Obviously the Klingons I know, and these idiots all
 bent out of shape about a bunch of little tribbles, came from different
 imaginations.  Or at least, I came from a better makeup department.
RIKER: What else did this Heinlein say?
DATA: Well, later in life he suggested that people should have sex with anyone
 and anything, regardless of circumstances, preference and gender.  I'm not
 sure what that had to do with science fiction, but he sure started to write a
 lot of it.
RIKER: I like the sounds of this Heinlein.
PICARD: Yes, well, stay away from the rest of us.  This theory is nice enough,
 I suppose, except it still doesn't answer what we will do when the Cylons
 get here to kick some Colonial butts.  How long, Geordi?
GEORDI: Another half hour and they'll have caught back up, sir.
PICARD: So, what do we do?  Maybe some of the other ship's representatives
 have some comments.  Who do we have here?
TROI: People from the Heart of Gold, the Nostromo, the Eagle, something called
 a Tardis, the Palomino, and miscellaneous extras from Lost in Space, Buck
 Rogers, Dune... sir, the list goes on and on.  I suggest, in the interests
 of keeping our already absurdly diverse cast list to a minimum, that we
 ignore the lot of them.
PICARD: Agreed.  Stop feeding them, then.
GEEK: What about me?
PICARD: What about you?  Who are you?
GEEK: I was out watching from my car.
PICARD: Oh, I see.  What do you want?
GEEK: I want you guys to get back to fighting.
PICARD: Excuse me?
GEEK: That's what I'm here for.  To see the battle.
WORF: Which one?
GEEK: Any of them, but the real important one is the Enterprise versus the
 Galactica.  A lot of us have money down on who will win.
ADAMA: What are you talking about?
PICARD: Who, exactly, are you?
GEEK: My name is not important.  I am one of the frequent patrons of the
 rec.arts.startrek bboard, and we want to know which ship can kick which
 ship's butt, the Enterprise or the Galactica.  There's been a lot of people
 discussing this, you know.
RIKER: Is he serious?
WORF: Captain Picard sir!  Klingon honor demands we blame this whole icky mess
 on this geek here, and tear him to shreds!
PICARD: No.
WORF: Huh?
PICARD: We're not going to fight any more.
DATA: Uh, sir, who are you addressing?
PICARD: Whoever arranged this event.  DO YOU HEAR ME?  WHOEVER YOU ARE,
 WHEREVER YOU ARE!  WE'RE NOT GOING TO FIGHT ANY MORE!
KOLOTH: See, he even solves episodes like James Kirk.  What a woobie.
TROI: Captain, I sense extreme annoyance from beings around us.  Captain!  The
 emotions are focusing here on the bridge--!

Suddenly, with a shimmer of light and some other neat special effects sorts of
flourishes, two figures appear, reminiscent of half a dozen episodes from The
Old Show.  They are clearly beings from a higher plane of existence, since
they are wearing Greek togas.

H.I.M.B. #1: Greetings, peons.  We are the H. I. M. B.
PICARD: Excuse me, you're the what?
H.I.M.B. #1: The H. I. M. B.  It stands for Hyper-Intelligent Meddling Beings.
 It's rather a self-explanatory acronym, really.
ADAMA: What is it you want with us?
H.I.M.B. #2: Well, some of those hors d'oeuvres would be quite nice.  Particu-
 larly those cheesy ones, please?
H.I.M.B. #1: Yes, but we are also here because we are exceedingly displeased.
 You people are not proceeding in a manner at all conducive to good, clean
 senseless violence.  We have set up a situation with conflicting alliances
 and hatreds, and what do you do halfway through shooting each other up real
 good?  You go and hold a peace conference.  You all DISGUST me.
PICARD: Well, with all due disrespect, we find the idea of beings meddling
 with the lives of others to be quite disgusting as well.  It's to avoid just
 such situations that we have the Prime Directive.
ROMULAN COMMANDER: And when somebody does that to US, we demolish them and
 make them our slaves.
H.I.M.B. #2: Say, these are DELICIOUS.  Could we have the recipe?
PICARD: I mean, just who do you think you guys are?
H.I.M.B. #1: Well... just a couple of guys, you know?  We got kicked off the
 Brockian Ultra-Cricket team, and have time on our hands to just play tricks
 on people.
H.I.M.B. #2: Yeah.  Take the Horse Head Nebula, for example.  No big deal,
 right?  But who do you think stole the horse's body?  Huh?
GEEK: I wanna know who would win!  Make them fight!
WORF: Silence!
H.I.M.B. #1: Well, it really doesn't matter, we ran a computer simulation to
 see how it would end up.  I guess that's all we have, since you guys won't
 be fighting now.
PICARD: Ah, finally.  So, you're going to return us all to our own universes,
 then?
H.I.M.B. #1: Well, not exactly.  We'll leave you here for a few centuries just
 to see if your descendants feel more like fighting.

There is one of those ominous silences throughout the bridge.

H.I.M.B. #2: You had to go tell them that already, didn't you?  I don't suppose
 I'll be getting any more food now.
PICARD: You're going to do WHAT?
H.I.M.B. #1: Don't be getting any ideas, Picard.  We're higher beings, you
 know.  We outpower you puny beings.
H.I.M.B. #2: That's right!  We're the equal of any ten or so of you!

Another silence occurs, during which time the forty or fifty people on the
Enterprise bridge count to see how many people are there.  The silence is
broken as they all pile on top of the two H.I.M.B.s.

H.I.M.B. #1: Ow!!  Oooh!  AAAAHHHH!
H.I.M.B. #2: No, please, don't rip the robe!  Hey!!!
H.I.M.B. #1: You had to go tell them that, you fool!
H.I.M.B. #2: Well, we can still wave our arms and change all this!
H.I.M.B. #1: Can you move YOUR arms?
H.I.M.B. #2: Well... no.
H.I.M.B. #1: Then SHUT UP about it!
GEEK: Who would win?  That's what I want to know.
H.I.M.B. #2: If we tell, will you let us up?
GEEK: Sure!
H.I.M.B. #2: It was a draw.  The two ships destroyed each other completely.
GEEK: Yes, but who won?
H.I.M.B. #1: Aren't you listening?  Nobody won!
GEEK: Somebody had to survive!
H.I.M.B. #2: Sure.  Data and Muffit.  Muffit then tried to bite Data, and they
 both shorted out.  Happy now?
GEEK: Not really.
H.I.M.B. #2: So, you'll let us go now?
EVERYONE: NO.
H.I.M.B. #2: Oh, hey, not fair.
H.I.M.B. #1: Oh, DO shut up.
GEEK: Wait!  Which ship would win a battle, the Enterprise or the Death Star?
H.I.M.B. #1: Kid?
GEEK: Yeah?
H.I.M.B. #1: Just GET A LIFE, would you?

All the excitement over, the two meddling beings are securely tied with heavy
cords and bundled into a shuttle from the Galactica.  With essentially no fond
farewells at all, the shuttle is programmed to intercept the approaching Cylon
forces, without any weapons of course.

The transporter room in the Enterprise is busy sending people back to their
own vessels again.  The Galactica members linger behind.

ADAMA: So, we believe that when the Cylons destroy that shuttle, this strange
 set of circumstances which brought us together will be over?
DATA: That's the theory.  And the only way of ending this story in the few
 lines of text which remain.
ADAMA: So, I suppose that we will be back to our seperate private struggles.
PICARD: It would seem so.  But it was inspiring to know that, in other,
 different universes than our own, good is still triumphing over evil so
 valiantly.  Or at least, running away fast enough.
STARBUCK: I can't tell if that was a compliment or an insult.
APOLLO: Don't worry about it.
PICARD: How long until the Cylons reach the shuttle?
GEORDI: Just another minute.
PICARD: Gentlemen, you'd better be going, then.
ADAMA: Right.  Come on, you two.
APOLLO: Uh, dad?
ADAMA: Now what?
APOLLO: Starbuck and I have decided that, on the whole, if we're not going to
 make it to Earth and you are, we'd rather it be because we stayed back here.
ADAMA: What!  That's stupid!  Are you crazy?  I'll never agree to this!
DATA: Commander Adama, we have to send you back NOW.
ADAMA: Oh.  Okay, I agree.  Bye, son!  Good luck with your new life.

Commander Adama disappears from the transporter deck.

GEORDI: That's the last of them.  Even sent Vader off in his beat up ship
 again.  I guess we're ready for whatever happens.
PICARD: Starbuck, Apollo, you are welcome in the Federation, of course.  I
 just hope you do not find yourself seperated from us and drifting in space
 once the different universes seperate again.
STARBUCK: Aren't you a bundle of cheer?
APOLLO: I'm not too worried.  With all the logical points which were stretched
 or just plain ignored in this story, I'm sure we'll get away with it.
GEORDI: Sir!  The Cylons opened fire on our shuttle!
PICARD: Well, here we go then...
GEORDI: Sir!  The H.I.M.B.s must have gotten loose!  They are blasting away
 at the Cylons!  They destroyed two of those big ships!--  Wait, the Cylons
 got them...

All the strange colors and sensations return for a moment.  But only a moment.
Please do not adjust your set.

PICARD: Bridge!  Are we back in normal space yet?
RIKER: Well, there's stars and black space.  It looks okay, anyway.
PICARD: Thank you Mr. Riker.
APOLLO: What a crew.
DATA: From here sensors show the same quadrant we were in before all this
 started.  And there's the Romulan ship again, sir.  Still pretty well
 damaged.
WORF: Bridge to transporter room!  Sir, permission to kick their butts before
 we leave?
PICARD: I don't know.  Will, what do you think?
RIKER: Let's get them!
PICARD: Mr. Data, Geordi, Wesley, etc., set us a course for starbase fifty-
 two.  It's time we were going home.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This concludes our epic tale of senseless stupidity.

On the off chance that you were not thoroughly annoyed by it, please send me
email and I'll try to correct this for you.

Once again, my legend...

******************************************************************************
* internet: [e-mail] * Klingon names start with "K" or "W".   *
*   usenet: but don't abuse net     * So do American radio stations.  Why is *
*   bitnet: tasted awful            * this?  Enquiring minds want to know!   *
******************************************************************************