~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 A BSG Crossover Story . . .

The shuttle had been returning from a simple supply inquiry at one of the
older, more remote ships of the fleet.  Captain Apollo and Lieutenant
Starbuck had been investigating some inconsistencies in records and probing
the connections to some other problems that seemed to be stirring.  Highly
unlikely that any trouble could develop on a trip back to the Galactica from
within the Fleet.  Most unlikely.  Most improbable . . .

The blinding flash of light permeated the shuttle from out of nowhere,
enveloping it, then disappearing, taking the craft with it.  Tasting too
metallic and bland for it, though, the not-so-super-intelligent,
inter-dimensional being spat the shuttle back out as it reappeared briefly
into normal space, some 5000 light years away. . .

All systems had been scrambled by the fleeting encounter with the space
creature. The shuttle tumbled in a slow rotation end over end, powerless.
Inside, Apollo shook his head as the overwhelming dizziness settled into a
dull headache and tried to orient himself.  Yet the interior continued to
swim and turn in the darkness. . . until he grabbed hold of a seat back and
stopped his zero-gravity spinning.  Darn.  Had better strap in the next
time!  With all systems out, including artificial gravity, he and Starbuck
had floated from their seats.

"Urgh!"  Starbuck's voice came from behind.  "What a hangover!  But I don't
remember drinking - oh, wait!"  Starbuck had finally figured out his
problem, too, and had braced himself against a storage locker.  Squinting,
he could just barely make out Apollo's form at the front of the shuttle,
silhouetted by the dim star field out the viewport.  Concentrating, he
visualized where the emergency lights were stored and pulled himself in that
direction.  Donning a headlamp, he then propelled himself along until he had
reached the copilot's chair and plopped himself down next to Apollo.

Having strapped himself in with his safety harness, Apollo was busily and
unsuccessful trying to restart the systems.  Starbuck handed him an
emergency light.  "Better get the oxygen masks ready," the captain said,
glancing at his friend as he quickly pulled the strap over his head.
"We've got maybe 20 centons of breathable air, if the life support systems
don't restart.  Maybe the Galactica will located us, but we can't even send
a distress signal right now!"

"Hmm!  So what happened?"  Starbuck, secured in his seat,  took a good look
out the viewport for the first time, and blinked as he realized just what
was missing as he watched the rotation of the stars, as the shuttle
continued its gentle tumbling, in fascination and increasing alarm.   "Uh .
. . Apollo, where's the Fleet?"

Apollo glanced up.  "What do you mean, 'where's the Fleet'?"  He, too, took
a good look out the viewport.  Now, since the viewport provided a wide-angle
image of the space ahead, the 360 degree rotation of the shuttle gave them a
pretty good look in all directions.  And in all directions they saw . . .
stars, nothing else.  "Frak,"  Apollo muttered.  "I can't get a fix on our
location unless we can restart the navigational computer!"

Both Apollo and Starbuck busily began working on the control panel,
cross-wiring, cross-connecting, pleading, cursing, banging.  Nothing seemed
to be working.  Finally, Starbuck looked up and stared at the rotating stars
in exasperation.  And a huge, glowing, yet darkly grey, object filled the
screen for a moment as the view floated past.  "What the frak!"   Starbuck
grabbed Apollo's shoulder.  "We're on a collision course!"

Apollo snapped his attention to the viewport and tensed when the  massive
object filled the screen for a moment, before the shuttle nose rotated on.
"Where did *that* come from?"  was all he could say.

"Well, buddy, this is getting-"  Starbuck didn't get to finish his thought,
because they were once more enveloped in a swirling, blinding, overwhelming
light.

*****

"Oh, my head!"  Starbuck groaned, grabbing his head with both hands.  He
peeled his eyes open, blinking against the bright light that streamed
through the viewport.  He groaned again and look over at Apollo.  The
captain was just beginning to regain consciousness, with his head rocking
from side to side, eyes still closed.

"Apollo!"  he shouted at him, then grimaced against the pain that caused in
his skull.  A bit more quietly, he said again, "Apollo!"

"Hmmm."  The captain finally pulled his head up and fluttered his eyelids
open.  "Where are we?"  he said softly as he focused his gaze, squinting
through the viewport.

Starbuck looked out of the shuttle again.  They were inside  . . . something
. . . that had a shiny, new metallic gleam to it.  Through the viewport,
they could see panels, what might have been a door, and what seemed to be a
counter complete with a sink.  The lieutenant glanced at the still-very-dead
control panel, then at his chronometer.  Was the air becoming thinner?  He
thought he felt his chest beginning to heave a bit.  Might be - only about
five centons of breathable atmosphere left.  "Uh, Apollo, I think we'd
better break out the breathers and see where we are."

Apollo nodded and unfastened his safety harness.  A moment later, both were
wearing oxygen masks as they descended cautiously out of the shuttle.  Their
boots clanked on the gleaming metallic surface as they stepped down.  The
floor, walls, and ceiling were all made of the same shiny, new-looking
material.  But where were they?  Lasers drawn, they walked slowly forward,
scanning all around.  The chamber was basically deserted, except for their
ship.  A glance behind revealed massive, closed doors.  A shuttle bay or
cargo hold, Apollo figured.

Both men snapped their heads around at the sound of a door swooshing open.
In the threshold stood two human males and a tall, square-ish robot, of
sorts, towering above the humans by nearly a metron.  The warriors trained
their weapons on the new arrivals and stood still, waiting.  One man had
blond hair and wore a jacket, scarf, white shirt, and pants.  The other had
rather disheveled black hair and wore what seemed to be a sleeping clothes
beneath a rather worn bathrobe . . .  The dark-haired man shrank back at the
sight of the weapons and made whimpering noises.  The other seemed
unconcerned. The large robot made low, droning voice sounds, but the words
were incomprehensible.  The tone had an almost depressing effect on the
Warriors, though.

Apollo stepped forward, lowered his weapon, and said, "We're from the
Battlestar Galactica.  Where are we?"  Both he and Starbuck slowly put their
lasers back in their holsters.

The blond looked at the robot, motioning in their direction and said several
sentences - all unintelligible to the Colonials.  Then he gave them a big
grin and walked slowly towards them, hands extended in a peaceful gesture.
He stopped within a half-metron and pulled something from his pocket - two
somethings.  And they looked like . . . small, yellowish, worm-like . . .
fish.

Starbuck made a face and Apollo just stared at the creatures.  The
lieutenant asked, even though he knew the man would not understand, "What
are we supposed to do - eat them?"  A brief glance at the door showed the
dark-haired man peeking cautiously around the robot, who was droning on and
on in the same low, most despondent voice.

The blond grinned and pointed to his ear.  Apollo shrugged and shook his
head, not understanding.  The other took a step forward, coming within arm's
length of the warriors.  His grin expanded as he slowly raised the two
fish-like things.  And tossed them at the warriors.

Startled, both flinched and ducked.  Starbuck swatted at the airborne
creature.  The small creatures seemed to wriggle and float in the air - then
zipped lightning fast toward each warrior's ear.  With a slimy pop, they
disappeared inside.  Both gabbed at their ears, surprised and shocked.
"Arrrgh!" groaned Starbuck.  "Why did you -"  He stopped abruptly when he
suddenly realized that he could understand what the robot was saying in its
constant droning.  "What the --?"

Apollo gaped at the blond man, who had crossed his arms and had a very
satisfied look on his face.  He finally said, in perfectly recognizable
words, "Greetings, gentlemen!  Welcome to the Heart o' Gold!"

Apollo finally said, "What's this fish doing in my ear?"  He shook his head,
though he felt nothing now, and wondered vaguely what the creature was doing
to him.

"Oh, that!  It's a Babel Fish.  It's the whole reason you can understand us
now.  I won't go into the boring details, though."  Ford smiled at the two
baffled looking warriors.  "Let's head back to the bridge and see what
Trillian and Zaphod are up to.  This way, please!"  At that, he turned and
strolled out into the corridor, not bothering to check to see if the guests
were, indeed, following.

Apollo and Starbuck stared at each other for a moment, shrugged, then headed
towards the door.  As they passed through, they thought they heard a voice
say, "Glad to be of service!"

************
By the time they reached the bridge, both warriors had a slight headache
from listening to the monotone drone of Marvin, as he continued his endless
monologue.  " . . . do you now how much brain power it takes to perform
these mindless tasks that they always seem to ask of me?  Zero.  Zippo.
Nada.  If I actually slept, being a robot, I could perform these tasks in my
sleep, but that would be too kind.  No, I must always be conscious of how
incredibly, numbingly bored I am . . ."

The door to the bridge opened with the chirping voice of the PPP's (Pleasing
People Personality) "Glad to be of service!"

Apollo and Starbuck followed Ford onto the bridge, but stopped at the sight
of Zaphod.  Unfortunately, Arthur did not stop, so he stumbled into them.
Regaining his footing, Starbuck, still staring, finally said, pointing,
"Hey, he's got two heads!"

"Give the man the I-can-state-the-obvious award!"  Zaphod said with just a
trace of sarcasm.  He swiveled his chair around to face the visitors,
lounged back, legs crossed, and slipped a hand behind each head.  A third
hand held a drink, which he waved in their direction.  "Hey, Trillian, how
'bout a drink for our guests?"

"Perhaps, Zaphod, we should deal with large number of approaching ships,
which seem to be on a collision course."

Both warriors turned their stares to the other, much more human-looking
human, a blonde woman, wearing a tight, silvery suit.  Starbuck's mouth
opened and closed several times.

Zaphod appeared unconcerned.  "Just engage the Infinite Improbability Drive
and let the ship handle it."

"IID is off-line.  Thirty ships approaching at 300,000 kilometers and
closing. It wold appear that a coupling has come loose.  It will need to be
repaired from the exterior."  Trillian's voice was equally calm.

"What are we going to do?"  Arthur Dent's voice was not.   The view screen
suddenly illuminated with a fleet of menacing-looking, dark grey ships, all
rapidly expanding in size as they rapidly approached.

"Marvin, get out there and fix that coupling, will ya?"  Zaphod waved his
drink in the robot's direction.

Marvin threw up his arms.  "Why not?  It might feel good to be blasted into
a million tiny pieces.  Certainly would feel better than my current
mind-numbingly dull existence . . ."  The robot ambled out of the bridge.
Everyone looked relieved.

Trillian touched a button, and suddenly the approaching fleet vanished.

"What the -?"  Apollo stammered.  "What happened to those ships?"

Zaphod grinned with one head while taking a long drink with the other.  "Oh,
that was just a recording.  An amusing way to get rid of Marvin for a bit."

"Oh."  Apollo stared around at the assorted humans.  "Look, could someone
please tell us what's going on?"

Trillian stood and walked slowly, deliberately, hips swaying, over to a
dispenser, making sure that Starbuck's eyes were still glued to her form.
Slowly, she filled two glasses and flowed gracefully back to offer the
warriors a drink.

Zaphod whispered, "Trillian, you didn't, did you?"

Starbuck was too enraptured to notice the comment.  Still staring at the way
Trillian had draped herself over her copilot seat --- legs crossed, chest
arched as she leaned back, arms behind the seat, cleavage poised to sprout
from her partially-unzipped suit -- he was about to take a sip.

Apollo slapped the drink out of Starbuck's hand.  "What do you mean, 'you
didn't, did you'?"

Starbuck was about to protest, when he noticed the spilled beverage was
sizzling and bubbling on the floor, making a black, scorched-looking mark.
He jumped back, the spell broken.  "Hey!  What are you trying to do?"

Trillian was laughing.  "I'm sorry,"  she said between sobbing breaths of
laughter.  "I just couldn't resist . . ."

Starbuck was still staring at the now dry but obviously burned spot on the
floor.  Apollo tossed his drink aside and glared from Trillian to Zaphod and
back. "Look, just what in Hades is going on here?"

"A bit of feminist sense of humor, dear gentlemen.  That was the
Pangalactica Garglebaster.  Most deadly, unless you're a Tritanium Goolabeth
from Areus, or the President of the Galaxy."  Zaphod point a finger at his
chest.  "Me."

Prank forgotten with that last statement, Apollo said, "You're the what?"

"The President of the Galaxy, gentlemen."

Trillian cleared her throat.  "Ah, make that the ex-,
now-wanted-criminal-for stealing-this-ship President."

"Technicality!"

"Look, why do you guys look like something out of a 1970's TV show?"  Arthur
Dent had finally found the presence of mind to speak.

"We what?"  Apollo threw up his hands.  "Okay.  We surrender.  Can someone
please explain where we are and how we got here and how do we wake up from
this absurd dream?"

Trillian stood and approached Starbuck seductively, ready to run a finger
under his chin.  The lieutenant pulled back.  "Would that be dream or
nightmare?"  he asked Apollo.

Satisfied that he had learned his lesson, Trillian zipped her suit front
back up to her chin, then said, "You have been brought aboard the Heart o'
Gold spaceship, the first ship to be fitted with the new Infinite
Improbability Drive.  Zaphod, of course, cool, hip ex-President that he now
is, had to steal it to take on a joyride."

"But how did *we* get here?"  Starbuck had recovered enough to think again.

"When the IID is engaged, all things impossibly improbable become routinely
possible and almost certain."

"Huh?"

"You were transported aboard by the ship when we last engaged the IID."

"So where are we?  And can we get back home?"

Zaphod waved three hands. "Not a problem!  We'll just dump your ship back in
space when we next engage the drive!"

"And that'll get us home?"  Apollo looked doubtful.

"Oh, most certainly, since the odds of you being zapped back to the exact
same location of your part of time and space would be . . ." Trillian
punched some numbers into the computer.  "397,200,000,000 to one."

Starbuck decided to quit trying to understand it.  Instead, he asked, "So
where are we, anyway?"

"We're 3.2 light-years from the star, Alpha Centari,"  Trillian answered.

"Oh."  Apollo decided to ask the obvious question that had been on his and
Starbuck's minds.  "Do you know of a planet called Earth?"

Arthur groaned.  "Don't even mention it!"

"But that's what we've been searching for for over a yahren!"  Apollo told
the crew about the Colonies, the Cylons, and humanity's desperate search for
the Thirteenth Tribe and new home for the survivors.

At the end, Zaphod gave a bored sigh.  "Spare me the details!  I've got some
bad news for you chaps.  The Earth was blown up to make way for an
intergalactic hyper-bypass."

"What?!"  Apollo and Starbuck said at the same time.

"Yes!"  Arthur looked more suitably upset.  "It's gone!  Blown to
smithereens!  Worst day of my life here, you know."

"Now what?"  Apollo spoke softly, gazing at Starbuck.  "What do we tell the
commander?"

Zaphod grumbled, "Look, fellows, if you're going to be this boring and
serious about it, I'd just as soon you went back to your ship.  Or go help
Marvin.  Lighten up!  Have some fun!"

Ford had brought out a small, black, rectangular computer-looking device.
The words, "Don't panic" were printed on the front, the two warriors
noticed.  "Look, if it makes you feel any better, I'll see what the Guide
has to say about your star system."

"The Guide?"  Apollo gave a puzzled look, nodding at the device.

"Yeah, this."  Ford held it up.  "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Let'
s see what it has to say about your 'twelve colonies' and Kobol."  He
punched in some information.

A moment later, a smooth voice said, "A group of people who had the major
misfortune to actually believe that the incredibly one-track-minded Cylons
would accept a peace treaty.  They subsequently fled their blown-to-bits
planets in search of the legendary 13th Tribe, believing it to be Earth.
Through a quirk in the space-time continuum, events of their plight were
recorded on a 1970's sci-fi show called "Battlestar Galactica."

'Hey!  I thought you looked familiar!"  Arthur waved an accusatory finger at
the warriors.

"TV show?"  Apollo said, feeling faint suddenly.

"Well, does that thing say what happened to the Fleet?"  Starbuck was
beginning to feel simply annoyed, convinced now that this was, as Apollo had
said, just an awful joke being played on him by his subconscious mind - a
dream.

The Guide continued, "After searching for 22 years, the Fleet finally
settled on an Earth-equivalent planet, once transmissions from the real
Earth were detected by the Galactica's sensors.  Upon further analysis of
the transmissions, which mainly included TV sitcoms and advertisements, it
was determined that Earth was not worth bothering with."

"Oh."  Apollo was looking more dejected.

"Look, I hate to interrupt this fun little party,"  Trillian said
cheerfully, "but it's time to continue on.  That flashing light -- "  She
pointed to a blinking light on the control panel.  "is the Hypergalactic
Patrol (or HyPs) about to ask for this ship back.  I think we'd better take
our guests back to their shuttle, so they can be on their way, too."

As Marvin ambled back in, complaining about not seeing any approaching ships
or finding any coupling malfunctions, Apollo and Starbuck waved goodbye and
practically ran back to their shuttle, their keen warrior senses remembering
the way.  They barely heard all of the "Glad to be of service" comments, and
it was with great, great relief that they finally locked themselves in their
craft.

******

Apollo shook his head as the overwhelming dizziness settled into a dull
headache and tried to orient himself. The shuttle was dark, all systems
dead.  Starbuck, barely visible from the faintest of light slipping through
the view screen, was shaking his head, too.  Both felt groggy, as if they
had been asleep.

"Lords . . . I had the weirdest dream."  He mumbled.  "Two-headed guy who
said he was the President of the Galaxy, a beautiful girl with a deadly
sense of humor, fish in the ear to translate . . ."

Apollo froze.  "No.  I won't believe it.  There's no way that all that
happened and *that* is what awaits us."

"I don't follow you. It was just a dream. . . right?"

"Well, I had the same dream, then."  Apollo felt numb.

"Frak.  No way!  Just a shared hallucination, buddy."

Apollo gave his friend a numb look.  "Lords, I hope so . . ."

THE END