Carla If Serina dances through the Round Robin, is she doing the fox trot or the Time Loop? Lisa As long as no one gets the Time Trots, we're okay. Carla Starbuck goes running for the turbo-flush, 'Time Trots!', he cries as he . . . suddenly disappears. 'Do you smell something?' Apollo turns to . . . 'Hey, you're not my wife. Where's Serina?' Sheba smiles, like a temple cat who has just eradicated some vermin, and drops the half-empty packet of /Temperal - Lax/ in a nearby reclamation unit. Lisa "Tigh, where are our forces? By all the Lords, we're under attack!" "Time Trots." Tigh replied with a scowl, clutching his abdomen and lurching for the Executive Officer Turbo Flush. Carla "This is getting too gross for me," Adama cried, feeling an 'ooky' feeling deep in his abdomen, "Omega, flush all turbos simultaneously!" "Will that cure the Time Trots, Sir?" "No, but it will make the water in Uri's turbo-/wash/ get suddenly cold." Lisa "This is the Zykonians fault!" Boomer groaned, lying on his bunk, his knees drawn up to his chest and his stomach aching like someone had just reverse thrusted a Viper through it. "How do you mean?" Starbuck asked, from his own bunk with a groan. Maybe it was a potassium deficiency, but he wasn't following the other's line of reasoning. "Xlax." Boomer replied with a moan. "Xlax." Carla "Please, Commander," Omega clutched Adama's knees in panic, "Don't make me deal with an angry Uri in a towel. It's inhuman, Sir!" Lisa "What was that about a trowel?" Rigel asked with a smirk. Carla "This is getting out of hand," Adama clutched the rail around the command platform as he tried to shake free of Omega's grip, "Rigel, put down those tools and relieve Omega!" Lisa "Yes, sir!" Rigel replied smartly, tossing a bottle of thick, pink liquid to Omega. "Here's the new and improved Fibron. We'll bulk you up!" Carla "Cassiopeia," Doctor Salik picked up his med-kit, "It's a nasty epidemic of, well, /you/ know. Eeeew. Hurry up. We'll take the shuttle and hole up on another ship until the worst is over. There isn't enough currency in the Fleet to make me stay on duty for this one." Robert "And if that doesn't work, I have some Plop Plop, Fizz Fizz." Rigel grabbed her towel from under her console, ran up to the command dias, twisting the towel as tight as it could be twisted, and... "EEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" Lisa "Oh, what a relief it is . . ." Tigh murmured returning from the Executive Officer turbo flush. Robert The Brown Alert Klaxxon began blaring through the Battlestar. Adama groaned, "Now what?" One of the bridge officers yelled out, "Danger! Danger! Turboflush overflow! Call the plummers! Call the pipemen! Call the... Call Lysol!" Carla "Felgercarb, Omega!" Adama cried, "No. Wait. On second thought, don't do that! Just let go of me." Lisa "Boomer! Starbuck!" Apollo yelled, running into the billet. He grabbed each man from their bunk, propelling them to their feet. "What are you doing? Don't you hear the klaxon? We have a Code Brown!" "And I should care . . . why?" Starbuck moaned, knees shaking as the captain propped him up against a bulkhead. "What's wrong with you?" Apollo hollered, staring into the hazy blue eyes as the warrior slid down the wall. "Too much catharsis therapy." Boomer replied, as he crawled under the nearest available bunk, trying to escape. "Yeah, just because Boomer is muscular and I have a dazzling smile that could heat a small planet, doesn't mean we couldn't see the hip waders and buckets you left in the corridor, Captain." Starbuck pointed out. "I . . . uh . . ." Apollo stammered. "Yeah, go find a couple other patsies. How about Sheba and Athena? Aren't they always complaining about us guys stealing all the limelight?" Boomer hollered out from under the bunk, turning a little green when he found Giles' boots by his nose. "That's telling him, Boom-Boom." Starbuck nodded. "I'm grouchy when my guts are cramping, Bucko." Robert A little boy ran into the room with an orange box that had a picture of Starbuck on the front. "Guts cramping? Try Wheaties - The Breakfast of Colonial Champions. It is a very healthy mixture of wheat and bran, enough to chase the cramps away." "I'm not chasing no gramps away. I don't have no gramps here," Boomer bellowed. The boy was still smiling. "Not gramps, cramps. This will chase the cramps away." Boomer growled and looked over at the little boy from under the bunk. In a very low, slow, rumble, he said, "I... will... be... chasing... someone... else... away.." And finishing very quickly, "if he doesn't get out of here with that Starbuck box." The little boy turned and ran. "Daddy!!!!!!!" Lisa "Well, Valkyrie Squadron, the Fleet needs us!" Sheba told her pilots, most of them outfitted in gumboots, hip waders and shovels. Brie had gone that extra parsec. She was covered from head to toe in a complete Isolation Suit. "I still think we're getting the bum rap here." Dietra commented. "Somehow the significance of the first female squadron getting stuck shovelling the mong isn't lost on me." "That's 'astrum' wrap." Miriam replied. "Sounds like a nappie for infants." Noday remarked. "Hey, that's not a bad idea. Nappies for all those infected." Athena, who had for some reason been conscripted from the Bridge, added with a glimmer in her blue eyes. "Let's start with Blue Squadron. They're the ones who volunteered us for this duty the way I understand it." "Yeah, Boomer and Starbuck." Sheba nodded with a grin. It was payback time. Robert Athena and Brie began cleaning up the dirty, putrid, disgusting muck in their assigned turboflush room corner. Athena was deliberately being sloopy. That was one way of workingn out her anger. "Hey, Brie." "Hey, what?" Athena had that snake-look in her eyes. "Hasn't it been a long time since you hugged Starbuck?" Brie thought short and quick about it. "Less than a secton after I blasted two Cylon Raiders in less than a centon." "You need to go hug him again." "Now?" Brie was puzzled. "In a centon." Starbuck was fresh from the turbowash, smoking his water-proof fumerello, trying to make himself feel a little better. Normally, he smiled when he came out from the hot turbo wash in his towel. But this wasn't a normal time. And his idea that a turbowash would help the cramps wasn't exactly working. He dressed himself in his uniform and slowly crawled into his bunk, praying a red alert would not happen tonight. He closed his eyes hoping sleep might make the pain go away. Brie walked into the men's quarters, still fully dressed in her Isolation Suit. When she saw where Starbuck was, she walked over to his bunk, stepped on Boomer's bunk below, and hopped onto Starbuck, embracing him is a hug on his bunk. "Wha...?!?!??!?" Under normal circumstances, Starbuck would be elated for a woman to join him in his bunk. But what was this.... monster? Brie lifted her facemask. "Starbuck, I heard you were in real pain. I thought I'd give you a comfort hug like you always do to me after a bad mission." "Yeah, well..." "Oh, I have to go back to cleaning. See you in the briefing room for our next mission." Brie rolled off the bunk and left the room. Something stuck. No, it reeked. Extremely bad. Starbuck looked down at himself and saw the yucky, mucky, stucky turboflush waste all over him, his uniform and his bunk thanks to Brie's Isolation Suit. "Felgercarb," was all that he could say. And he was certainly covered in Felgercarb. Robert "Felgercarb," was all that he could say. And he was certainly covered in Felgercarb. This storyline is somehow reminding me of a sound file I heard online of a cranky submariner (possibly a crew chief, I can't remember exactly) reporting over the intercom: "...down here in the lower level engine room. These damn bilges look like somebody puked in 'em!" So, what would it be like to go down and muck out a battlestar's bilges? Unfortunately, we're finding out! Lisa (Wink, wink, nod, nod to Sarah for the inspiration, or the blame, depending on how one looks at it.) Sheba slogged through the felgercarb, holding her rose scented sachee to her nose as she carried the huge hose over her shoulder that would ultimately muck out the Battlestar's bilges . . . and if they ever needed mucking out, it was now. Rose, nose, hose . . . rose, nose, hose . . . rose, nose, hose . . . Could be that the fumes were getting to her. "These damn bilges look like somebody puked in 'em!" Dietra cursed. "Well, that's certainly possible." Sheba replied, her face twisted in utter disgust. "So, I hear they're reconsidering the line up for the second season. Adama's Angels, they're thinking of calling it. Starbuck, Apollo and Boomer will all play minor parts that we get to demean regularly." "Will I be carrying my laser, or a sump pump?" Dietra asked. "Your laser. As long as your hair is always bouncing and behaving, you're in." Robert Something caught Dietra's eye. "Ah, Sheba." Sheba was busy trying to unkink a sudden kink in the blinking hose. "Yeah?" "Sheba, I think you better look to your left." Dietra added as an afterthought, "Slowly look to your left." Sheba stopped fussing with the hose, turned and looked left. She turned white as a ghost. "By the Lords of Kobol..." Lisa "Don't people know you don't put (blank) down the turbo flush?" Sheba asked, then looked over to the star studded panel . . . .