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...

 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?

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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...