Date: Mon, 26 Jun 1995 From: rogue@netcom.com Subject: Re: Babylon 5 Kirk A. Troy wrote: > Oooo, just think if the Cylons allied with the Shadows. Yep, I definitely have been mulling over the possibilities. ;) The biggest concern I have with doing a B5/BSG crossover is that, on the whole, your average B5 story tends to have a lot more depth than the norm for older SF TV (including BSG), so I feel compelled to ensure that any crossover would strive to be of equal calibre. No easy task, that. In fact, various ruminations concerning more, er, "comical" BSG/xxx crossovers (BSG/Blackadder, BSG/Discworld, et al) probably resulted in the dream I had last night, of which the slight memories I retain will probably result in a much lighter (and easier to produce?) crossover than BSG/B5... . . . . . Baltar stood outside the building, studying the sign. Peculiar, he thought. A tusked mammal that exhibits nesting behavior? This indeed was an alien world, for all its alarming familiarity. He approached the entrance, hesitated a bit, holding onto the cloak of night a little longer. He shrugged, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. The dim light was still enough to require his eyes to spend a few millicentons adjusting. "How may I help you?" a throaty voice said in front of him, in that charming accent that seemed to be the norm on this planet. Baltar blinked, and his eyes adjusted, and widened in brief alarm. No, not Athena, Baltar told himself, as he quickly resumed his calm. Thank the Lords, that would have been too much. Attractive... "Sir?" Baltar shook his head, clearing his mind of the sudden onset of human frailty. I must remember my mission, he told himself. To the woman, studying him with a remarkable concern, he replied, "I'm looking for the proprietor of this establishment." "And you are?" She studied him with a rather unsettling gaze. "Baltar." He tried to curb the annoyance he automatically felt at the question. Of course this--this *alien* wouldn't know who he was. Wouldn't know *what* he was. No! He suppressed the surge of long dormant human yearnings, building up so long inside him these past few months of imprisonment. I *must* remember my mission! "Mind if I ask what it's about?" The voice again broke his mental torrent. "His manufacturing facility. It's a matter of... business." His eyes pushed away from hers, glancing around the establishment. Smoke drifted here and there, apparently from the slender white cigars that seemed to be prevalent. A few people clustered at scattered tables, some more lined up at a bar to one side of the room. Nursing drinks, a lingering despair flitting amongst the smoke. Baltar knew very well places of this sort. "Okay, I'll go tell him." The woman turned and walked towards a doorway set in the far wall. Baltar could not help but follow her graceful, determined movements. As she moved away, his gaze ran down the curves of her mostly exposed legs. He had not seen a woman dressed so--so *minimally*--in many a yahren, or so it felt. No! He forced himself to look away, studying instead a disc of concentric, patchwork circles set on a wall. He noticed a random sprinkling of ornaments protruding from the disc, and walked closer to investigate. "You play darts?" The woman's voice, from behind. Baltar turned around, pleased that he had not been startled. The woman was looking at him, smiling. Darts. Perhaps a parlour game, involving the disc he had been studying? "Not in some time." He chose a conservative lie. "Ah." The smile diminished somewhat, and Baltar couldn't help but feel a bit anguished. "Anyway, he'll go ahead and see you now." She turned and walked towards the far doorway. "Right this way!" Baltar followed, close enough that he would not be tempted to let his gaze stray downward. "Right in here." She gestured at the doorway, then placed her hand on his back as he stepped through. Baltar's mind raced at the unexpected contact. "Good luck." She pushed him slightly, then her hand disappeared. He quickly cleared his mind before it had a chance to read further into that touch. I must remember my mission! With that firmly enmeshed at the forefront of his thoughts, he stepped fully through the doorway. This was a private dining chamber, a large table littered with food at its center. At the far end of the table sat a somewhat rotund man, dressed all in white. A bib was tied around his neck, and he seemed to be busily ripping morsels of meat from the bones of some tiny animal, tossing the carcasses onto a rapidly overflowing platter of bones. He was the only one in the room, and the slurping sounds of his eating frenzy were painfully too audible. He seemed oblivious to Baltar's presence. After a few millicentons, Baltar cleared his throat, none too softly. The fat man looked up from his feeding, grunted, made a motion that Baltar interpreted as "move closer," then returned to his food. Baltar approached the man, suppressing the feelings of disgust that swelled inside him. My mission! Not much consolation now. He was now at the far end of the table, not enjoying the close-up view. The fat man tossed another pair of bones on the pile, slid his chair back, and stood up, facing Baltar. The large bib did naught but contribute to his overall comical appearance, and Baltar forced himself to only smile politely, rather than laugh uproariously. "Mr. Baltar, I presume?" the fat man inquired. "Yes. And you are..." "Jefferson Davis Hogg," the fat man answered. He grasped one of Baltar's hands, shook it firmly. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Baltar." Hogg then wiped his hands on the bib, leaving greasy, reddish-brown smears of sauce behind. Baltar glanced down at his soiled hand, and quickly but unsuccessfully glanced around for any quick but subtle means of relief. "Now tell me, Mr. Baltar," Hogg was saying. He had removed the bib, and was wiping his face clean as he spoke. "What do you want with my factory?" His face more or less clean, Hogg tossed the bib onto the table and straightened, his suddenly cold and calculating eyes meeting Baltar's. Baltar smiled again. He could see that this Hogg was not to be underestimated, and he quickly revised his plan accordingly. "It's a long story..." he began. . . . . . Ah, nothing like excerpting from a tale yet to be written! (And sorry 'twere such a long "excerpt," but I tend to get carried away at times.) Now I guess I'll have to write the whole thing... ;) Yep, the Battlestar Galactica/Dukes of Hazzard crossover! Coming soon (-er or later)! Will Apollo and Starbuck team up with Luke and Bo, or will the clash of their "hero" natures prove to be too much? Will Cooter be able to fix Apollo's Viper in less than three or four days? Will Adama find a kindred spirit in Uncle Jesse? Will Starbuck find himself diving through the window of the General Lee? Will the General Lee be able to find ramps for those zany jumps everywhere... including the depths of space? Will an entire squadron of Cylon Raiders manage to wreck themselves in hot pursuit of the aforementioned General Lee? Will Luke and Bo Duke try to dive through the window of a Colonial Viper? Will Bo at least dive over the hood of a Viper? Will Boomer and Colonel Tigh test the racial undercurrents of Hazzard County? Will Roscoe and Enos find themselves at the helm of Hazzard County Sheriff's Department Raiders, chasing the Duke Boys and the Galacticans through the cosmos? What exactly does Baltar need with Boss Hogg's factory? Where did Boss Hogg get a factory? Does this have anything to do with the lotful of Hazzard County Sheriff's Department replacement police cruisers they must have? Is this just another of Boss Hogg's crazy schemes to get the deed to Uncle Jesse's farm? Wait a minute... Baltar and Daisy Duke?!? Isn't it bad enough he allegedly put the moves on Athena?!? Oh well, if I ever *do* write the full BSG/DOH crossover, I'll be sure to let y'all know... ;) -- R. Cliff Young