Battlestar Red
Part 7

To Panic or Not To Panic...
        Things seemed to be humming along smoothly.
        Literally.
        Hal had picked up a new habit of "humming" while 
retrieving information for the various terminal operators. All in 
text, of course. Considering all the other weirdness going on over 
the past day or so, Adama considered this new, irritating habit not 
worth consideration.
        <All vipers clear, Hal?> Omega asked.
        <Lemmie check, okay?> Hal answered. <Hmmmm-
Hmmmmm-Hmmm-Hmmmm. Oh, okay, I see they're off! This is 
going to be _sooo_ much fun.>
        Tigh, reading over Omega's shoulder, snorted. "I can't 
believe this."
        Omega sighed. <Hal?>
        <What, Omega my man?> Hal chirped.
        <Could you _please_ keep the editorial comments to a 
minimum? We're used to the _pilots_ making jokes while beating 
up on Cylons, not the ship's computer>, Omega patiently explained.
        <Tigh getting upset?>
        Omega glanced up at Tigh, whose eyes rolled just as he 
turned away to check a new incoming report. Safe from prying 
eyes, Omega answered, <Something like that. And when Tigh gets 
upset...>
        <...Adama gets annoyed with the source of Tigh getting 
upset>, Hal finished for him. <All right, all right. I'll keep the 
enthusiasm down to a minimum. Sheesh. That man has no sense of 
humor.>
        Omega was inclined to agree, but wisely refrained 
from continuing the conversation.
        Adama paced the bridge like a caged feral feline. So 
far, so good. Nothing on their scanners. The vipers were well 
within scanner range of the basestar and word had just come in 
from Boomer and Sheba that Starbuck and Apollo had been spotted 
and were now approaching the Fleet on the pre-planned course. But 
things were going _too_ right. Since meeting the Boyz, a laser 
wrench had managed to find its way into the works and mess up 
the best-laid plans. He couldn't shake the feeling that the said 
laser wrench in this particular plan was floating dangerously 
close. No matter how many times he tried to dismiss the thought, 
its specter remained stubbornly in his mind.
        Tigh noticed the commander's unease and tentatively 
asked, "Adama?"
        The commander shook himself. "It's nothing. Anything 
new?"
        Tigh nodded happily. He loved it when a plan came 
together without a glitch. "The vipers are meeting no resistance."
        "Good," Adama remarked and then he resumed his 
pacing.
        "Commander!"
        Omega's voice reflected fear. Bone-chilling fear. 
Adama knew that at last the laser wrench had introduced itself 
and was now happily bashing the works. He fled to Omega's side 
and, with a bit more intensity than he realized, the commander 
hissed, "What is it?"
        "Hal has..." Omega began.
        Hal interrupted him, screaming at the top of his text. 
<BREAK OFF THE ATTACK! BREAK IT OFF! OTHERWISE WE ARE IN 
SMEGGING TROUBLE! STOP THOSE FRAKING VIPERS! BREAK IT OFF!>
        "Omega," Adama said warningly.
        Omega interrupted the computer. <Hal, what's wrong?>
        <The basestar! Oh, frak. The tackyon emissions when it 
blows up will affect the time hole. You've got to break off the 
attack!>
        <CALM DOWN!> Omega shouted. <Take a deep breath and 
start from the beginning!>
        For a moment, Adama was amazed and frightened. 
Amazed because, for all intents and purposes, Hal had a greater 
intelligence than a human. Well he, or it, always had that 
intelligence, but the fact is, that intelligence could now express 
itself making Hal, at least by a Galactican's definition, sentient. 
That was the amazing part.
        The scary part was that everyone who dealt with the 
computer, or Hal, on a regular basis had quickly adapted to this 
new change and had started treating the computer as if it _was_ 
human.
        Hal paused. Maybe in his electronic brain he was 
actually taking Omega's advice. Adama tried not to imagine the 
computer taking a deep breath. <Even though the basestar is at the 
edge of my scanner range, it isn't far enough away>, the computer 
finally said in a much calmer tone.
        <Meaning?> Omega asked.
        <It's close enough that when it blows, the resultant 
radiation, emissions and all the other good stuff that comes from 
blowing up a ship the size of your average basestar will affect the 
time hole.>
        <YES?>
        <No need to shout, Omega.>
        <You started it.>
        "Omega!" Adama's warning tone was unmistakable.
        As if sensing Adama's irritation, Hal ignored Omega's 
dig. <It will do one of three things. Scenario one: There is a small 
chance, a slight possibility, mind you, that _nothing_ will happen.>
        <That doesn't sound so bad. So what are you getting all 
worked up about?> Omega typed grimly.
        If Hal could audibly sigh, he would've. <Note that I said 
it was a very tiny possibility that nothing will happen. Scenario 
two involves the following: the resulting residue of blowing up 
said basestar will alter the time hole's own emissions, thus 
destroying the pattern so that it would be impossible to find our 
guests' home frequency before it naturally closes on its own, 
which we believe will happen in a secton, thereby leaving the Red 
Dwarf and its crew on this side. There is a _much_ bigger chance 
of this happening.>
        "Oh, frak," Adama remarked.
        <What's option three?> Omega typed, praying that it 
was better than Hal's second postulation. It wasn't.
        <Scenario three, and this is the most likely outcome, is 
that the emissions from a certain destroyed basestar will close 
the time hole prematurely, thus leaving the Red Dwarf on our side. 
Now, since they're the only people who know about Earth _and_ 
since they're heading in our general direction, we'd wind up with a 
new ship in the Fleet. Are you beginning to get the picture?>
        "Lords of Kobol," Tigh whispered.
        <Now, granted, a ship the size of Red Dwarf in the Fleet 
_would_ be useful. Imagine how many people we could fit on it. 
And I imagine the landing bays could prove quite useful for 
installing a permanent squadron. The question is, do these pluses 
outweigh the cons for you?>
        Omega, Tigh and Adama looked at each other for half a 
micron. Adama then charged for the uni-com and issued the order. 
"All vipers! Hold your fire! Wait at the edge of the basestar's 
weapons range for further orders."
        Boomer's voice came in answer. "Sir? What's 
happening?"
        "It's too complicated to explain just now, lieutenant," 
Adama growled.
        "Sir? What if it launches its..." Boomer began.
        Adama cringed. "If it launches fighters, then carry out 
your original orders, but unless that happens, hold your fire. 
Understand, lieutenant?"
        "Yes, sir. Blue leader out," Boomer signed off.
        Hal had to comment. <I thought you'd see my point.>
        Adama looked around the bridge before asking the 
question burning deep in his soul. "Now what?"
        "We've got to get rid of that basestar. There's no 
telling how long the Toaster will have it's calming affect," Tigh 
answered automatically.
        Adama raised an eyebrow. "Do you seriously want to 
chance getting a new ship in the Fleet?"
        "Can't we leave them behind?" Tigh asked hopefully. 
Before Adama answered, he already knew that it wasn't an option.
        "Tempting, but in good conscience, I can't do that. 
They're human. At least one of them is. Sort of. And they're from 
Earth, or at least they know about it from Lords of Kobol know 
where. It they're stuck here, we have to take them with us," Adama 
said firmly.
        "Well, it is a mining ship," Athena interrupted. "_That_ 
would be useful to have around." The commander's daughter saw 
the conference up on the command console and decided to see what 
was happening. Judging by the conversation so far, it appeared the 
Boyz needed a devil's advocate in their favor.
        "We _have_ a mining ship," Tigh reminded her.
        "Yeah, but their ship is fully equipped," Athena argued.
        "But we'd have to take the crew that came with it," 
Omega muttered. "And Holly."
        Athena angrily spun on Omega. "You got something 
against Holly? Is it because she's a blonde, or because she's a 
she?"
        "No. It's because she's crazy," Omega said. "Besides, Hal 
told me that Holly was once a he and decided to perform a head sex 
change operation on himself."
        "You believe everything Hal tells you?" Athena asked 
archly.
        <Hey! At least I do something more useful than act as a 
glorified vid phone operator>, Hal shot back.
        "Stay out of it, Hal!" Athena and Omega shouted in 
unison.
        Tigh muttered under his breath, "It's madness like this 
that leads me to believe we should just blow up the Red Dwarf 
when we manage to get the crew back on 'er. I think we've caught 
whatever they've got."
        "STOP IT!" Adama shouted. The bridge went silent. "No 
more bickering! We need to stay calm. Options."
        "We sit here and do nothing," Omega said.
        "We sit here and order the vipers to come back and then 
run away as fast as we can," Athena offered.
        "We sit here and order the vipers to blow up the 
basestar and then get whatever's coming to us when the Red Dwarf 
officially becomes part of the Fleet," Tigh grumbled.
        Adama sighed. "Pros to blowing up the basestar," he 
said wearily.
        "One less basestar on our tail," Omega said.
        "We'll get a fully equipped mining ship in the Fleet 
along with its library about the Earth's solar system and culture," 
Athena said slowly.
        "The crew would probably be a real menace to anyone 
who gets in our way. That is, when they're not a menace to us," 
Tigh grumbled.
        Adama nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. 
"Anything else?"
        Tigh, Athena and Omega looked at each other. Hal piped 
up. <At least I'll have another intelligent computer to talk to.>
        Omega typed, <You can't seriously mean Holly.>
        <Hey! I gotta take what I can get. Those on-board 
computers on the vipers are as dumb as fence posts>, Hal sniffed.
        "For the sake of argument, let's put that in the plus 
column," Adama said. "Now the fun part. Cons to blowing up the 
basestar."
        "We'd get stuck with the Red Dwarf!" Athena, Omega 
and Tigh shouted in unison.
        "Anything else?" Adama asked.
        You seriously need a better reason?" Tigh asked.
        Adama thought about that. He didn't need a better 
reason, but he needed more of them. "Yes."
        "We'd need to leave Lister in charge of the Red Dwarf 
and make the others the executive crew," Athena said. When they 
looked at her, she added, "They know the ship best and there's no 
telling what Holly would do if we didn't leave them in charge."
        "But making the crew the commanders would mean that 
they'd have to become part of the Colonial Service," Tigh yelped.
        Athena smiled evilly. "Exactly."
        Omega came up with a second good reason. "Their 
technology is completely incompatible with ours."
        "We could refit," Athena ventured.
        "On a ship that size? It would take _yahrens_ , and 
even then there are no guarantees because we don't know about 
their technology and I think it's safe to say that they'll _never_ 
know anything about ours," Omega said. "That's assuming, of 
course, that they know anything about their own technology."
        "Are you seriously saying that your estimate of 
_yahrens_ to refit the Red Dwarf is optimistic?" Adama asked.
        Omega said one word. "Very."
        Tigh came up with a third good reason. "The Council of 
Twelve would have the entire military lined up and shot."
        "Why?" Athena asked.
        "When they find out that the Red Dwarf is an Earth 
vessel, people are gonna mutiny and force us to turn back to the 
Colonies because anything, including tangling with the Cylon 
Empire, would have to be better than what little we know about 
life on Earth," Tigh said.
        "Actually, I can think of another con," Adama said 
slowly.
        All eyes turned to him.
        "We'd have to deal with Lister's clothes on a regular 
basis," the commander finished. His head snapped up. "Tigh! Order 
the retreat!"


Getting Religion...
        While the debate raged on the bridge, a certain raider 
was speeding back to the Galactica. The occupants were very busy 
whooping it up. Lister broke into a chorus of "Carry Me to Titan," 
the rude version. Though Starbuck and Apollo were utterly 
mystified by most of the song, what little they could actually 
understand was enough to make both warriors blush, even though 
they were no strangers to such classics as, "Onwards Randy 
Warriors" and the "Masochism Tango," sung to the tune of the 
Caprican Military Academy of Military Arts and Sciences school 
song. 
        The Boyz, for their part, were in such a good mood that 
no one reminded Lister that he couldn't sing. In the cramped 
quarters of the Cylon raider, the Boyz hi-fived each other. Even 
Rimmer got into the act. He didn't seem to mind, or even notice, 
when the flesh-and-blood hands passed uselessly through his own. 
At one point he demonstrated how he threw Baltar off his nut by 
sticking his arm through Kryten's torso. He even threw in a "two-
fingered salute," to the hilarity of the others.
        It was a rare moment of unity for the Red Dwarf Posse.
        Starbuck and Apollo prepared for landing, afraid to 
interject any comments of their own for fear that it would be 
twisted by their mad passengers. As they worked in silence, 
Apollo noticed something was wrong. "Now that's odd," he 
remarked.
        "What is it?" Starbuck asked.
        "Well, the vipers have reached the basestar and, as 
anticipated, there's no response. But instead of attacking, the 
squadrons are turning around and heading back this way."
        Starbuck blinked. "But I thought the plan was to 
destroy the basestar."
        "So did I. I wonder what my father is thinking," Apollo 
said quietly.
        Up on the bridge, Adama was thinking that leaving the 
basestar intact for now was infinitely more preferable to blowing 
it up and getting stuck with the Red Dwarf crew forever.
        
        Rimmer, who was always finely attuned to such things, 
noticed that Apollo and Starbuck looked distinctly worried as he 
and the others stumbled out of the raider and collapsed into a 
hysterically laughing heap of jelly on the floor. He crawled through 
Lister (a feat that he hoped _never_ to repeat in this lifetime) and 
catwalked up to the apprehensive pair of warriors. He cleared his 
throat and they slowly turned and fixed him with an intense stare. 
He swallowed hard and almost walked away. Then it occurred to 
him that whatever was wrong couldn't possibly be connected to 
him because no one was yelling at him yet. He found his voice, 
sorta. The question came out in a squeak. "What's wrong?"
        "What, ah, makes you think anything's wrong?" Starbuck 
asked in a nonchalant tone that sounded entirely _too_ nonchalant.
        The tone was enough to quiet the other three Boyz. 
Lister especially began to be nervous. Life since getting out of 
stasis had also attuned him to noticing when something looked 
distinctly wrong.
        Rimmer sounded more sure of himself when he pointed 
out the obvious. "If nothing's wrong, then why do you look so 
smegging worried?"
        Lister shot to the hologram's side, eyes narrowing in 
suspicion. "'E's right. Somethin' is wrong. What is it?"
        "Really not your problem," Apollo hastily answered.
        "Look, Granite Cheeks..." Cat began.
        Apollo looked at Starbuck. "Granite cheeks?"
        "Actually, a very opt observation. I'll have to remember 
that," Starbuck muttered.
        Cat ignored them. "...I don't know if you've noticed, but 
we happen to be on this skiing-ant-in-space and if something's 
wrong, just tell us. I can take it."
        "No he can't," Lister said.
        "Well, I know _I_ can't," Rimmer said. "But I want to 
hear it anyway."
        "Oh, nothing major. The squadrons aren't attacking the 
basestar. They're coming back here instead," Starbuck explained.
        The Boyz blinked in unison and demanded, "WHAT?!"
        "_Lieutenant_," Apollo hissed angrily through his teeth.
        "I'd rather they'd panic over a real problem than 
whatever their imaginations could cook up," Starbuck shrugged.
        "There's gotta be a reason," Lister said thoughtfully. 
His head snapped up. "I bet the Toaster has something to do with 
it."
        "Mr. Lister, sir, how would the Toaster infect..."
        Lister said two words: "Dr. Langstrom."
        Rimmer visibly paled. The warriors had, of course, seen 
Rimmer pale several times in their short acquaintance with him, 
so much so that they were tempted to ask if he was anemic. 
However, they had never quite seen that particular mixture of 
mortal fear and abject horror. They were not comforted in the 
least to see the same fear and horror reflected in the eyes of the 
others, even on the hard-to-read-the-expression-on-his-
rubberized-face Kryten.
        Rimmer prayed. "Dear God...if that's true..."
        "And me without me luck virus," Lister mumbled.
        Starbuck ventured hesitantly. "Ah, I don't suppose you 
could fill us in on this particular worry of yours?" He added 
mentally, *And I don't suppose I really want to know.*
        "We've got to get to the bridge. We've got to make sure. 
We _could_ be jumping to conclusions. _God_, I hope we're jumping 
to conclusions. I mean, we're wrong about lots of things. We're 
probably wrong about this, too." As he said this, Rimmer started 
pacing.
        "You're right. We gotta be wrong," Lister echoed, but his 
voice seemed less sure. He looked at the two warriors. "Let's get 
to the bridge. We'll explain on the way. Rimmer, stay away from all 
communications equipment, just to be on the safe side. Let one of 
us handle any talking that might be needed."
        Rimmer emphatically nodded and, for good measure, hid 
behind Cat, since Kryten _was_ a mechanoid and might very well 
be another means of infection if they were right.
        On the way up to the bridge, Lister related how Rimmer 
had contacted a holovirus in their travels that nearly killed him. 
He wasn't terribly clear on how a hologram could die because the 
reasons were simply to technical for either warrior to understand, 
which fueled their suspicions that Lister was nowhere near as 
dumb as he pretended. Suffice to say, the infection was 
transmitted by radio waves. With the mechanical technology of an 
_entire_ basestar at its disposal, there was no telling what, 
exactly, the Toaster would be capable of. It could very well have 
sensed the danger to its own existence, since they had stupidly 
failed to take out the scanners, and infected the vipers with its 
own mad programming. From there, if wouldn't be that big of a 
step to infect Hal and the computers of all the other ships in the 
Fleet.
        Starbuck and Apollo tried to picture how Boomer, 
Sheba and the others would react if their vipers started to 
chirpily offer them tea cakes and bagels. They gave up when they 
began to picture squadrons of infuriated warriors returning to the 
Galactica and gunning for their scalps. The only safe place to hide 
would be  -- <gulp> -- on the Red Dwarf!
        They became more and more worried the longer they 
thought about it. On any _normal_ day, both would have dismissed 
the idea as totally preposterous. However, it had been anything 
_but_ a normal day. They'd been exposed first-hand to the 
RedDwarf Effect, which will be explained more in a bit. Leave it at 
this: the RedDwarf Effect guaranteed that _anything_ could 
happen. And since the Toaster had belonged to Lister, it stood to 
reason that, due to familiarity, he would be the expert on what the 
insidious kitchen appliance was capable of. As the warriors and 
the Boyz approached the bridge, they mentally prepared 
themselves for the worst. Upon their arrival, all eyes turned 
toward them.
        For the first time in his life, Starbuck squeaked. "What 
happened?"
        Adama clasped his hands behind his back. "We can't 
blow it up."
        Apollo sounded marginally calmer. "Why?"
        Adama fixed the Boyz with a look that said nothing. 
"Hal tells us that if the basestar blows, it will affect the time 
hole, leaving the Red Dwarf here with us. Since we don't want to 
be stuck...I mean...keep them here against our...I mean...their 
will...we thought it best to recall the vipers."
        Rimmer looked to heaven. "I will never doubt You again. 
There is a God, there is a God, there is a God..."
        "Rimmer!" Lister growled. He looked at the commander. 
"Now what?"
        Tigh leaned over the railing of the command console. 
"We honestly don't know. We should clear the area, but that would 
leave you four and your ship alone. Since you're an unarmed 
vessel," here Tigh shot Adama a dirty look since he obviously 
disagreed with this point, "Ethically, we can't leave you in the 
vicinity without protection."
        "Besides," Adama added, "The basestar isn't doing 
anything. It's just sitting there."
        "So you have no idea what's happening?" Rimmer asked.
        Adama merely shook his head.
        Cat, Lister and Rimmer all looked at Kryten. The 
mechanoid shrugged. "Don't ask me, sirs. All I know is that the 
Toaster should disrupt the Cylons' normal operations, but I don't 
know what the ultimate affect will be, let alone how long it will 
last."
        "Great. Just smegging great," Lister said. "So we wait 
'ere until we can go back or until those nasty pieces of work wake 
up, small the coffee and come after our bonny arses."
        These were two _very_ reasonable assumptions on 
Lister's part and in the normal course of events, he'd be absolutely 
correct. Those two assumptions _would_ be the only reasonable 
assumptions, but he wasn't counting on _one_ very important 
element. _The_ deciding element, in fact.
        It was simple really. It was the RedDwarf Effect.
        What, you may ask, _is_ this RedDwarf Effect? To 
which, one might reply, 'You obviously haven't been reading very 
carefully, have you?' The RedDwarf Effect is the result of a 
special from of entropy, a localized field that seems to be carried 
along in the wake and movements of a highly improbable group of 
beings -- four beings, in fact, with whom you've already been 
exposed to at great length.
        What it boils down to is this: Wherever the Red Dwarf 
Posse goes, chaos is sure to follow. The result? _Nothing_ ever 
comes off exactly as planned.


Seeing the Light...
        The Cylons were paralyzed, from I.L. series Lucifer, to 
gold command Centurions, to their ranking inferiors to the drones 
that did the janitorial work. Nothing was moving, not even Baltar, 
who is still out cold on the floor of core control.
        Then it happened.
        A Voice came out of the darkness. A Voice with a 
Commanding Presence that made it impossible to ignore, or, 
failing that, to dismiss. Its greeting was simple and straight to 
the point. "How-doodly-doodly-do! Would you all like some toast?"
        The Cylons all along the transduction net firmly and 
rudely told the Voice to shut up. They didn't know what toast was 
and even if they did, they didn't want any. In fact, when they found 
IT, they were going to kill IT and destroy the toast, whatever that 
was, pure and simple.
        "Now, that's not very polite," the Voice chirped. The 
enforced cheerfulness sent several command Centurions into 
convulsions. "How can you not want to know about toast? Let me 
tell you all about it!" And the Voice began, starting with the 
elements of what makes _fine_ bread and how it can make 
_heavenly_ toast. 
        The Cylons screamed. They groaned. They complained 
all along the transduction net. Give them a lot of credit. The 
Cylons put up a valiant fight against the seductive Voice, but in 
the end, they were doomed to fail, simply because IT wore them 
down with ITs enthusiasm. Before long, the first Cylon fell with 
an electronic pulse that said, "Yes! I see it! I see the light tan of a 
well-made toast, with butter slowly melting into those 
scrumptious nooks and crannies..."
        Several other Cylons stopped fighting the Voice and 
tried to quiet this new source of infection. "Shut up! We don't need 
you adding to the pressure!" they shouted. However, by allowing 
their concentration to lag, the Voice insinuated ITs programming 
into their little electronic minds. Before long, they were seeing 
visions of warm bagels, tarty jelly rolls and melt-in-your-mouth 
cinnamon buns. 
        The rest of the basestar's denizens fell like a row of 
dominoes. When they had all finally seen the error of their past 
ways and the glorious future ahead, the Toaster allowed them to 
wake up to their surroundings.
        After all, there was a _lot_ of work that needed doing 
and a whole universe to conquer...

END Part 7