The Capture by Robert Hanczyk #4 of the Mr. Rogers set of short stories September 19, 1997 "I certainly hope we'll get some food for this." Jolly rolled his hand around his tummy. It was savagely growling to be fed. The feeling was so intense, everything Jolly looked at turned into food. Not to mention, the occasional growl could be heard by others. Giles huffed in frustration. He believed there was never a micron to go by when Jolly was not thinking about food. It was a wonder Jolly was such a good viper pilot. "Jolly, Jolly, Jolly, if you would think with your mind instead of your stomach, you'll see an extended furlong aboard the Rising Star includes plenty of food." Jolly's face lit up as he dreamed of being surrounded by food, real food. The standard rations were not for Warriors. At least that was what Jolly believed. They said the rations had everything a Warrior needed to stay alive, but what the manufacturers never said was what was really in them. To be a fully alert and healthy Colonial Warrior, one must be granted proper nutrition. And if it was one thing Jolly needed at this micron, it was proper nutrition. "JOLLY!" Jolly snapped out of his dream state. "What?" "Hold the ladder for me!" "Oh yeah. Right." Jolly went over to the open ladder and held it in place for Giles to climb. Giles carefully cradled the bucket of glue in his arm. He ascended the ladder until he was able to reach the vent in the ceiling of the corridor. Attached to the vent was a hook to hold the bucket of glue. They had already fed a rope down the air duct to another vent at the end of the corridor. Their plan was to wait for Mr. Trolley to enter the corridor. At the right micron, Giles would pull on the rope to dump the glue on the deck. Mr. Trolley would travel through the glue and become stuck. All Giles and Jolly had to do after that was take Mr. Trolley to the Commander and claim their prize. They heard the reward was extended furlong aboard the Rising Star with more than enough cubits to gamble and no long range patrol duty for at least two full pilot rotations. By the time all the other Viper pilots completed long range patrol twice, Giles had planned to have enough cubits to pay a new viper pilot to take his place for long range patrol. It would be valuable experience for any new pilot. Giles dreamed of never doing another long range patrol. Giles had the bucket tilted at a perfect angle so the slightest tug on the rope would dump the glue. After he descended the ladder, Giles said, "Jolly, take watch at the end of this adjoining corridor. I'll get the ladder out of the way and wait down at the rope end. When that little red thing flies through here, distract it enough to make it ding. I'll dump the glue as soon as I see it." "Sounds good to me. I can't wait to eat some real food." Jolly walked off dreaming of delicious dishes of food waiting for him. Giles hurried down to his post, leaned the ladder against the wall and found himself a comfortable position to wait and spring the trap. Ten centons passed with no sign of Mr. Trolley, not even a distant ding. Ten more centons passed. Giles grew frustrated. Jolly was tired. While Giles used the nearest wall-com to find out where Mr. Trolley had been spotted, Jolly found a chair to lean back up against the wall and relax. It did not even take a centon for Jolly to fall into a light sleep. "What?" Giles asked into the wall-com. "What was it doing in the landing bay?.........That's crazy!!!.........Yeah.........How long ago?.........Thanks." Giles shook his head back and forth. He said to himself, "Twenty-five centons ago. Surely that crazy little machine must be coming here. Who is controlling that thing?" Jolly was almost at the snoring stage of his sleep. Certainly had himself well balanced leaning up against the wall. Off in the distance, steel wheels rolled at a high speed along the deck of the Galactica. The sound increased at a steady rate. Jolly's conscious mind was oblivious to it. Mr. Trolley rounded the corner and headed straight for Jolly's chair. Jolly never heard it coming. As Mr. Trolley was about to pass under the leaning chair holding Jolly in place, he dinged as loud as possible. Jolly woke up, startled. He flailed his arms in an attempt to grab hold of the chair. Too late. The sudden, uneven shift in his weight caused the chair to give way underneath him. Jolly hit the deck hard. The thud echoed down the corridor. Giles heard the dinging before he heard the thud. His snap to attention was not nearly as bad as Jolly's. By the time he grabbed the rope, Mr. Trolley was under the bucket of glue. Giles yanked on the rope causing the glue to splatter to the deck. It sprayed out in all directions. Only a little bit hit Mr. Trolley in the back end as he zipped by Giles dinging his way merrily down the corridor. Giles cursed. "GET YOUR RED DINGER BACK HERE!!! YOU OWE ME!!" He shook his fist after Mr. Trolley. That was about all he could do. Giles turned around to look at the mess of glue on the walls and deck. Jolly rounded the corner. Obviously he forgot about the glue and fell flat on his face in it. Giles was left speechless. ===== Dietra paced back and forth in front of her group of Warriors. They formed the posse for Mr. Trolley. Her women stood at attention with their capture weapons, heavy duty nets used to hold the large and strong flipping water foshers. They figured that was ample net to hold the red mail robot. After all, what chance did it have against the Women Warriors of the fleet? With the voice of a leader, Dietra stated matter-of-factly, "We are on a quest. And we will succeed at the quest. And what will happen when we succeed? WE WILL put those male pilots in their place." Dietra continued with an air of arrogance in her voice. "They think they are the best thing to hit this galaxy. They're WRONG! We'll show them who the REAL Warriors are. That's because women know how to do it. Those guys know NOTHING!" The women cheered in support of Dietra. They suddenly stopped when Dietra gave them the look to tell them she was not finished yet. "You all have your weapon and your communicator set to our special frequency. When we march out of here, we will separate into groups of two and systematically search this ship. We'll search high and low, far and wide, front to back if we have to, but we WILL capture that red mail robot as per Commander's orders. When a team spots it, that team will inform the rest of us. The groups who are closest will serve as backup. Any questions?" "What's the reward?" Bree asked. "Good Question, Bree," Dietra said in a more woman-to-woman voice. "The reward, from what I was told, will be new uniforms for all of us in addition to new civilian clothing tailored to our own tastes. How's that?" They all cheered in response. "Well then, form on me in two lines." All the women lined up behind Dietra and they marched out of the women's quarters. Bree and Airy descended the ladder from the Celestial Dome. The roar of the battlestar's engines was so loud, it penetrated their ear protection as if they weren't wearing any. It was unfortunate they had only walked around one large engine area. There was still another one to cover. No doubt this area of the search would last the rest of the secton. They approached a crawlspace connecting the two engine areas. These small access ways were designed to connect the critical sections of the engines in emergency situations. Airy and Bree looked at each other as to what to do. If they took a long way around, it meant they had to stay near the engines longer. Bree shrugged. She knelt down to crawl through the thirty-metron long access way. Airy had some reluctance, but followed suit. Bree was almost through to the other side. Airy was half way. Mr. Trolley came up behind Airy. She never knew he was there since she did not care to look behind her and was unable to hear anything but the engines. Airy continued to crawl along slowly. Bree exited the access way and looked around to see where they would start searching. Mr. Trolley's dings were as loud as they could be. He had to get through. Airy was almost through. Mr. Trolley, however, could not wait. He bumped himself up against Airy's feet. "Ouch!" Airy banged her head off the metal ceiling of the access way. Mr. Trolley bumped into her feet again. She picked up her pace to slither out into the accessory engine room. Mr. Trolley zoomed out past her as soon as there was enough clearance. When Airy saw him, her mouth dropped. She tapped Bree, who was still gazing about, on the shoulder. Mr. Trolley rolled back and forth out of their reach. He dinged and dinged and dinged, but they still could not hear him. Bree yanked out her communicator and shouted at the top of her lungs, "BREE TO BASE! BREE TO BASE! ROBOT IN ENGINE ROOM. ROBOT IN ENGINE ROOM." Dietra heard the sudden roar of the engines through her communicator. She activated it. "Dietra here." The only response was that of the engines. When she did not hear anyone's voice, she turned off her communicator. "BREE TO BASE!! SOMEONE RESPOND!" Nothing. She put her communicator away, hoisted her net over her shoulder and approached Mr. Trolley casually while he rolled back and forth dinging. When Airy copied Bree, Mr. Trolley stopped for a micron. He figured out what was up. He darted ten metrons away at top speed. Bree and Airy broke into a run after him. Time for Mr. Trolley to disappear. He twisted around columns, machines and corridors. Bree and Airy lost him. Bree motioned for Airy to follow her. They entered a fuse room. When Airy closed the door, the engine roar was muffled enough to speak. "Now what are we going to do?" Airy asked. "Ohoooooh, I don't know. I couldn't hear if anyone responded or not. At least we know that red robot is here." "Is he? How do we know he didn't split?" Bree shrugged. "We don't." She pulled out her communicator. "Bree to base." 'Dietra here. What is it, Bree?' "We spotted the robot in the engine room. He got away. Would you send some backup?" 'We're on our way. Sit tight. Base out.' "Let's go look for them," Bree said. Airy rolled her eyes and put her hearing protection back on over her ears. When they reopened the door, Mr. Trolley was there waiting for them. He zoomed into the fuse room past the ladies. Airy jumped in fright. Seeing Mr. Trolley so soon was the last thing she expected. Bree went into action and scooped her net around Mr. Trolley. She picked up Mr. Trolley with some difficulty. "I got him. I got him." She jumped up and down in joy. With the engine noise coming through the open door, Airy could not hear Bree, but was excited just as well. Mr. Trolley spun his wheels at top speed. The ladies did not notice. He cut his way through the net and dropped down onto the floor. Mr. Trolley spun circles around Airy and Bree. Airy tried to catch him in her net, but she was not quick enough. Bree kept turning around and around trying to follow Mr. Trolley making herself dizzy in the process. She swayed back and forth. Airy made one last ditch attempt to capture the robot. She came up empty. Bree lost her balance and fell into Airy, knocking her over. It was pure luck that made the net drop over Mr. Trolley. Airy grabbed on tight to the net pole. Even with the net over him, Mr. Trolley's wheels were in direct contact with the deck. He shot away. His front end pushed against the net. It did not give way against the force he exerted. Mr. Trolley increased his wheel RPM and began to pull Airy along with the net. "Oh no you don't," Airy said. With the pole as a counter force, she pulled her legs enough to put them in front of her. She planted her feet on the deck. Mr. Trolley continued to pull. "Bree!!! HELP!!!!!" Mr. Trolley pulled her even more. It was a tug of war. What would give first? Airy, the net pole, or the net. Mr. Trolley was not one for giving up. Airy's feet slowly slid along the deck. Her muscles started to ache. She bit down and held her grip. "BREE!!!" Mr. Trolley had enough of the little game. He activated his mini-turbo engines. The stress on the net was almost to the breaking point. Airy's arms however could not hold. She let go of the net pole and fell on her toosh. Mr. Trolley sped off through the open door with the net still over him. "Oh felgercarb," Airy said in frustration. "Bree." Bree was still woozy from the dizziness. Her eyes were closed and she could not hear anything but the engines. Airy pouted in dismay. It took some work, and bouncing down the steps for Mr. Trolley to free himself of the net. It laid on the ground behind him as he continued his race through the Battlestar Galactica. ======== Mr. Trolley zoomed down the corridor in the middle of the battlestar. Outside of the children's play area was a bag of colorful mushies. Mr. Trolley stopped to examine the bag. It seemed safe enough. He backed up and traveled in a small circle to make sure all ways were clear of people. Finally, Mr. Trolley parked himself beside the bag of mushies. Was it a delivery for him? Perhaps it was a gift for Prince Tuesday. Mr. Trolley dinged softly to himself as he tried to figure out what a bag of mushies was doing outside a door. [in whisper mode] Checking his schedule, Mr. Trolley noticed his deliveries would not begin for a few more sectons. Besides, without a label on the mushies, how did Mr. Trolley know where the delivery went? Mr. McFeely always told Mr. Rogers how important it was to have a correct mailing label so he could make speedy deliveries. (Mr. Trolley's form of pondering) The door swooshed open. Kids ran out into the hall yelling and screaming. Muffit stumbled out in the midst of all the munchkins. His olfactory unit detected the bag of mushies. As Muffit stopped at the bag, kids bumped into and stumbled over him. Muffit "barked," wagged his tail and bobbed his head up and down. Boxey tried to turn around but was carried along with the other little moppets. Mr. Trolley joined in dinging with Muffit's "barks." The other kids slowly stopped the running and screaming. They were littered all down the corridor. Boxey saw the mushies. He decided it was time for mushies. "MUSHIES!!" he yelled and pointed to the bag. Mr. Trolley rolled back and forth until all the young ones began to run for the mushies beside him. He turned to face the opposite direction, backed into the bag of mushies and sped off down the corridor away from the children, dragging the bag of mushies with him. ***** "Why do I have to be stuck with Prison Barge Duty? It's not work. It's punishment." Reese walked down the corridor with his aide, Brax. They were on their way from the landing bay to the general quarters where the average worker was bunked. Council Security, regardless of what they felt, were considered general workers, unlike the Colonial Warriors, male and female. There was certainly not enough room for private quarters. Brax obediently replied, "Yes, sir. I totally agree." "I'm supposed to be the leader!" "Yes, you are our leader." "I'm a great leader!" "You are the best security leader, sir." "I need my own office!" "Yes, boss. They should give you an office." "Let me assign the duties, not Colonel Tigh. He's not even a member of the Council!!" "Agreed. Why would Colonel Tigh assign duties to us?" "I'll have to put my foot down!!! This no-good work has to stop!!" Reese made a fist and held it in a fight position. Any excuse to use it was good enough for him. "Aye, sir. You are the one." "But only after I get some sleep." "Yes, boss, you should sleep." "What would I do without you, Brax?" "Find a replacement sir?" Reese left that one unanswered. Turning the corner in front of them, Mr. Trolley screeched to a halt. His presence caught Reese and Brax off guard. After Reese recovered his mouth from its drop to the floor, he asked, "What is Hades Hole....?" "Sir, it is a red machine." "Yes, I can see that Brax," Reese said annoyingly. "But what is it and why does it have a bag of mushies on its backend?" "Stealing the mushies, boss?" "Ah, stealing mushies. That's a crime." Reese's anger at Prison Barge duty turned into glee. He unholstered his weapon and aimed it at Mr. Trolley. "FREEZE! You're under arrest for theft." Mr. Trolley was not pleased. The rampaging children would be on him real soon. The man with the laser blaster in front of him did not help matters any. Obviously, this man was too stupid to not understand what "Get out of my way" meant and to think aiming a weapon at Mr. Trolley was going to accomplish something. Mr. Trolley began to rev his engines. The sparks danced in his turbos waiting to ignite them. Reese sneered at the culprit. "You will release the mushies and slowly move away. If you fail to do so, I will have no choice but to use force." Reese thought that sounded threatening enough. Mr. Trolley, however, had other ideas. He could turn and race through the mass of kids or wait for the right micron to charge between these two guys. The munchkins were even closer; their voices echoed through the corridor. If Reese and Brax heard them, they paid no heed. Time for action. Mr. Trolley locked his brakes, ignited his mini-turbos and allowed the thrust to build. Two tiny lights marked "Turbo 1" and "Turbo 2" behind Mr. Trolley's front panel were lit. The children were only a few metrons from the corner. Reese's trigger finger was itching to be used. Brax was ready to jump up and down in excitement. The force of the turbos began to slowly push Mr. Trolley along the deck with his wheels still locked. He saw his path. To wait any longer was futile. Mr. Trolley released his brakes and streaked between Reese's feet. As soon as he cleared, Mr. Trolley cut the turbos. The lights on his board blinked off. "What in blazes....?" Reese stood aghast staring at the place where Mr. Trolley had been, still oblivious to the yelling and screaming of the moppets. "Boss. Boss!" Brax tapped Reese on the shoulder like a woodknocker pecking on the side of a tree. "What is it, Brax?!?" "Look!! The red machine's engines died. We can still get it." Reese turned around to look at Mr. Trolley racing away. He finally heard the sounds of a mob. When he turned again, the children rushed him and Brax. With all the little ones trying to charge past, they knocked the two security guards off balance. As the men fell to the deck, more kids became entangled. They all tried to free themselves, but looked more like a heap of foshers trapped on shore trying to flip their way back to the water. "GET OFF OF ME!!" Reese yelled. He pushed some young ones away with brute force hurting them in the process. Two kids wailed in pain. The others ganged up on the two mean men. "Hear that?" "Hear what?" Psyche looked at Dietra for an answer. "Isn't that the sound of children?" Psyche listened and nodded. "Sounds like it's coming from that way." Dietra flipped on her communicator. "Dietra to all. Emergency in Gamma Section, Area 21. Cease pursuit of robot and commence search for children in trouble. This is Priority Red!" She turned off her communicator and quickly fastened it back in place on her hip. "Let's go." Dietra and Psyche charged down towards the screams. They ran at top speed relying on their hearing to guide them in the correct direction. The echoes did not exactly make the search easy. They almost felt as if they ran in circles, but that was not the case. They soon found what they were looking for. Reese stood with kids hanging all over him punching, clawing, scratching... He no sooner forcibly freed himself from one when another jumped on him. Brax was on his knees. Kids jumped on Brax's back, each one sending a wave of pain through the guard. The weight of children soon caused him to lay outstretched on the floor with a dozen boys and girls trying to punch him. Dietra swiftly pulled out her communicator. "All teams converge immediately on Gamma 21, Corridor 11." She looked at Psyche as she put away her communicator. "Let's capture the prey." There was a grudge between the female Colonial Warriors and the Council Security, Reese in particular. The guards had taunted, teased, insulted, grabbed, and made other moves on the ladies they never should have. It was typically at least three men to one woman. One woman was brutally manhandled recently by Reese but had yet to report it to Commander Adama. The rest of the women decided to wait for the right time to turn the tide on him. This opportunity was prime time. Dietra moved in. She had to clear off a few kids before she could land a clear punch to Reese's jaw. He tried to defend himself against Dietra but couldn't do much with kids holding on to his arms. Besides, wrestling with all the kids was a task and a half for his out-of-shape body. Dietra threw another punch at Reese's chest and knocked the air out of him. He fell to his knees as a young boy did a flying tackle from behind. Reese gasped, "I'm......press........charge....you...." "Sure you will. I think you'll have to reconsider that option." Dietra enjoyed seeing Reese in pain. But the bout had only begun. Psyche had given Brax a few sucker punches when she could. The kids pretty much had the wimpy guard taken care of. She watched Reese go down and wanted to give him a few stiff words. After the tackling kid cleared off of Reese, Psyche yanked his head back, poked his eyes and slapped his face. To put Reese on his back, she chopped him across his neck. Bree and Airy entered from one side while Cadet Aphrodite and Xe entered from the other. They grouped around Reese who was gasping for breath. "Oh, that daggit," Bree said. "Dietra, help me make him stand." "Move it kids. We got him now." The children obeyed. They circled around the women. "1..2..3..Umpf" The two women hoisted up Reese to his feet. He looked them dead in the eyes. Bree slapped him once, twice, three times leaving the mark of her hand on his cheek. She knew it stung as the slap was heard down the corridor. Bree was happy to see the bright red glow on his cheek. Reese was able to spit out, "Damn, woman." Aphrodite tapped Reese on the shoulder. Reese turned to look. His eyes lit up, but not much else. "Aphy, call them off me, sweetie." After one date with her, Reese thought he had something going with Aphrodite. This was as good a time as any to plea to her "tender heart." "Sweetie, huh? What s'a matter? Can't take care of yourself?" Aphrodite asked in a pitiful tone. The fire burnt high in her eyes. When Reese faced his whole body towards her, she put her hands on his shoulders and lifted her knee to where it hurt. Reese doubled over and rolled into a ball on the floor. "Why?" he asked in a very, very high tone. Aphrodite turned and walked away, not saying a word. Airy looked down at the pour soul. Reese had the audacity to invade her privacy while she was taking a shower. He claimed a villain was on the loose whom he had to capture. She had screamed before he was able to get too close. Reese took off before the other ladies could arrive. "Hey, big boy, think you need to get a sonic shower?" Airy asked. Reese merely turned his eyes up towards her. "Send him to me, girls." Bree and Dietra began to pick up Reese. His knees were buckled as he still bent over in pain not daring to say a word in his new pitch of voice. It felt like spikes driven through every nerve of his body. Airy took a half dozen steps back as Bree and Dietra had Reese on his feet and held him firmly in place, squeezing his arms tight enough to cut the circulation. "I'm ready for him," Airy said. "Give him to me." Bree and Dietra pushed Reese towards Airy. When he was two steps away, she lifted her foot high and fast to deliver a high kick under his chin. Reese stood there dazed. Airy lowered her leg enough to deliver another high kick. The second one was enough to make him fall backwards. She pounded her foot down on him to make his voice increase another few levels in pitch and raised her hands in the air to celebrate her revenge. More of the female Warriors converged with nets in hands. Other Council Security arrived to see what the noise was. Everyone joined in on the action and made it the biggest brawl ever aboard the Galactica. Well, the brawl included everyone but Reese. He was incapacitated for the following centon or two or three or ... ***** Jolly could not wait to clean himself up. Any thoughts of food left his mind the micron he fell into the glue. How despicable it was. Giles blamed him for botching up the trap. Jolly tuned him out. He didn't need to hear it. He only wanted to remove the glue from himself. Jolly walked through the door into the Officer's Quarters. "Jolly, what happened to you?" Cree asked in astonishment. He never saw his superior officer in such disarray. Jolly merely grumbled in response. Giles walked in after Jolly and answered the question. "Let's say he was in a sticky situation." Cree along with the few other warriors in the room broke out into laughter. Jolly rolled his eyes and hurried to the showers. The warriors stifled their laugh, but only for a micron. They had to laugh again. ***** Starbuck casually strode into one of the service rooms on a lower deck of the Galactica. He had a dark green satchel tucked between his arm and hip. He saw Boomer sitting on a stool. On the work table in front of Boomer were wires of all colors and thickness'. Starbuck quietly approached Boomer from behind. He looked over Boomer's shoulder to see him meticulously connecting two tiny wires into a small metal cylinder of some sort. Starbuck had no idea what it was. Boomer was the one who had a knack for electronics. Boomer soldered the second wire into place and let out a deep sigh of relief. "How's it coming?" Starbuck asked. "I-yah." Boomer was startled. He turned to face Starbuck. "Don't ever do that again." "Sorry, Buddy." Starbuck put on the most innocent, sorrowful face no one else in the fleet would ever see, except maybe Cassiopea. Well, there was that one time in the women's quarters when Athena was about to remove her G-Suit... "Well, how is it?" Starbuck asked again. "Put together the outside frame. Paint it. Test it. It'll be ready. Do you have what I sent you for?" "Yeah, it's in here." Starbuck handed over the satchel to Boomer. He opened it to examine the contents. "Good," Boomer nodded. "With this, we'll have one fine machine." Starbuck nodded in acknowledgement. "Let me tell you, that took quite a bit of persuasion to get. The owner wasn't exactly willing to give it up if you know what I mean." Boomer saw a feigned look in Starbuck's eyes. "And what did you have to do?" "I'll tell ya, Boomer. It's almost as bad as a date with Siress Belloby." He paused. "I had to promise Siress Gerta to, ah, fulfill her 'needs' for three full sectons...THREE FULL SECTONS at which time I must not be on duty." "And you objected?" "Well, ah..." Starbuck left it hanging before he flatly said, "No." He became a little finicky. "Not really. I mean it took some serious negotiating to get it down to three sectons. And I didn't like the looks Sire Gerta was giving me." Boomer restrained laughing. "Does Cassiopea know?" "Ah, I haven't exactly told her yet." Boomer shook his head. "Starbuck, you never cease to amaze me." "What was I supposed to do?" Starbuck asked defensively. Boomer replied very bluntly, "Say NO." Time for reasoning. "Boomer, old Buddy, how could I?" Starbuck started talking faster. "If I had refused, you wouldn't have this part. If you didn't have this part, the machine would not work. If the machine doesn't work..." "Relax." Boomer tried to calm his friend. "That's a good boy." He waited until Starbuck took some deep breaths. "I'm sure you'll find a way to break the news to your other half." Boomer laughed and jabbed Starbuck lightly in the arm. Starbuck did not at all find it humorous. Boomer continued, "Now let's get to work. You have a mighty long paint job to do." Starbuck looked towards the heavens, but remained silent. Boomer turned back to him for a micron. "It was your idea in the first place." "Boomer, old buddy, old pal, I think you should really be doing this work. You have the steady hands for it." "Nope! Sorry! I'm the one who has to assemble this. I have to get all the pings and pongs for it to work properly." Starbuck shrugged. "I don't know. This may not be very convincing." "You'll do just fine. Trust me." Starbuck looked at his detail paint job yet again. Give him a viper to fly or a weapon to fire on any secton. That's what he did best...besides women and gambling. But painting?!? He's lucky he did not depend on it for a career. Starbuck could not paint a small steady line if his life depended on it. The door swooshed open just as Starbuck was about to add another fine line to his work. He jumped and streaked the brush across surface. "Frack!" "Problems, Lieutenant?" Rigel asked as the door swooshed shut behind her. "Nah. Whatever gave you that idea?" Starbuck let the brush drop to the work bench. He had enough painting for the time being. With practiced ease and grace, he pulled a new fumerello from his pocket. After a long sniff of the tobacco roll, Starbuck bit off the end and lit it up. He took a big puff and slowly blew it out. It was time to relax. "I didn't think you were going to make it," Boomer told Rigel. "Commander Adama requested a few extra items be taken care of for the next long range patrol." "What a micron! What's she doing here?" Starbuck asked, in a tense state. The blood rushed through his veins. "Relax. Starbuck, you're much too jittery. I asked her to help us. She is after all, one of the few who can talk to Mr. Trolley without him going bonkers." Rigel casually walked over to Starbuck with a smile on her face. Standing behind him, she rested her arms on his shoulders. "Don't worry, Starbuck. I don't bite." She bent over and growled in his ear making him jump again. With a laugh, she rejoined Boomer. Starbuck watched every move she made. "How's it coming?" she asked Boomer. "Here. Listen to this." Boomer set down his tools and picked up a small, gray box. It sat in his palm with room to spare. On the box were two buttons, each with a light above it. One was red, the other - blue. Boomer pressed the button corresponding to the red light. Rigel shuddered and stepped back from the awful sound. "Eh, Boomer, that's a little too harsh. Tune it down and add a little more romance to it. You want it to sound sweet to the ear." Boomer set the gray box on the table, picked up his tuning tools and gently adjusted the speaker circuit board inside a box half the size of the gray box. The movements of his hands were very precise. Rigel's heart raced a little as she saw the steadiness Boomer displayed. Starbuck, however, continued to puff away at his fumerello as he drifted into his own thoughts. Boomer set down his tools for another try at the sound. "What the devil..." Starbuck sat at attention at the sudden, awful noise he heard. His fumerello had fallen to the table beside the small bottle of paint. Boomer politely smiled. "Sorry about that." He went back to work. Determination was painted all over his face. Rigel watched quietly. Starbuck pushed the paint and his metal "art piece" away from him. He wanted to be prepared for the next earful of noise. "A bit too sharp," Rigel said. "Pick up the box and press the button when I nod my head." Rigel responded, "Too flat." "That's It! A little higher." "A little more........ a touch more...... Great!" Boomer let out his breath he had been holding. He set the tools down and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was proud of what he had accomplished in such short a time. "One down, more to go," Rigel said. "What?!?" "That's only one. To be effective, we need more." "But..." Boomer protested. Rigel shushed him. "Believe me. I know what I'm doing. Now listen..." Boomer rolled his eyes and heard what Rigel had to say. He could not argue with her; she had a point. They set to work to add more sounds tuned to Rigel's satisfaction. As Boomer added more buttons and other fine electronic pieces, Rigel helped Starbuck straighten his paint lines and touch up other places. Boomer assembled all the pieces a couple centars later. The end result was well worth their time. Starbuck and Boomer shook hands and patted each other on the back. Rigel hugged them both. They were proud of their work. It was a thing of beauty and song-like sound. Starbuck asked, "Think it will work?" "Like a charm," Boomer replied assuredly. The trio tested out Miss Trolley in the corridors. Starbuck took the lead to be on the look out for Mr. Trolley and any possible signs of trouble. A few metrons behind him was Rigel followed by Miss Trolley. Boomer was at the end of the line handling the controls for Miss Trolley. Along the way, Rigel tutored Boomer on the ways to move Miss Trolley. She had to make him think like a lady. Rigel swung her hips to be very provocative. Miss Trolley did not exactly have hips. After numerous attempts, Boomer made Miss Trolley do a slight wiggle. It was not an easy feat to master. But he kept working on it until Rigel thought Miss Trolley's wiggle was convincing enough. While Rigel strutted down the corridor swinging her hips, with Miss Trolley wiggling, she turned her head back towards Boomer, raised her shoulder a little, and with a smile, she batted her eyelashes at Boomer. He almost dropped the controls and fumbled to regain his composure. Rigel had to stop in her tracks and stifle a laugh. "Boomer, you have to make Miss Trolley wink her light as I just did to you." "Yeah. I think I can, ah, manage that." Boomer thumbed the light switch on the control box. He turned Miss Trolley's front light on and off at a slow pace. The landing strip lights blinked faster than Miss Trolley's wink. "Speed it up and shorten it," Rigel told him. "Blink. Blink. Blink." She waited until he brought Miss Trolley's wink up to speed. "Now, can you wink and wiggle?" Rigel strutted her stuff. "Watch this," Boomer said to himself more than anything. Boomer put Miss Trolley in motion. He began with a wiggle in Miss Trolley's roll. The wink was added. Miss Trolley sped past Rigel to show off what she had. Rigel was impressed by Boomer's control of Miss Trolley. Alas, he had one thing to add. "Can you do a taunting ping along with her wiggles and winks?" "Sure thing." "Fantastic!!" Rigel was elated. Her smile went from ear to ear. "Are you two done fooling around?" Starbuck asked in a loud whisper. Rigel and Boomer hurried up to stand by Starbuck. Boomer shut down Miss Trolley's control box as she was idle against the corridor wall. "Something wrong?" Boomer asked his buddy. "Listen." Off in the distance echoing down the corridor was a series of dings. They sure did not sound like happy ones. Some hollering followed. The trio were unable to understand what was happening, but they got the gist of the event. Mr. Trolley confronted some unhappy men. He seemed perturbed by their remarks. A shot was fired. If it was aimed at Mr. Trolley, it missed. The dings were louder than before. In fact, the dinging continued to grow louder along with the shouts. "Get back and hide," Starbuck instructed. "I'll stop them if they come this way." Rigel and Boomer nodded. Rigel led the way down the corridor into a dark supply room. She scurried around to find the light switch. The light from the corridor only penetrated a little past the doorway where it hit shelves filled with boxes, tools, old uniforms, and more. There was so much up against the walls, Rigel was not sure she would find the light. Had to be there somewhere. It was supposed to be right inside the door. If it was, it was hidden behind crates too heavy for Rigel to pick-up. There was a second switch somewhere. She took a few more steps inside searching around, not paying attention to what was directly in front of her. Rigel tripped over something on the floor and fell into a pile of boxes, knocking them over. It caused a domino affect with what little room there was for boxes to fall. Boomer picked up Miss Trolley and quickly followed Rigel's lead. He entered into the dark room and closed the door behind him. It was pitch black inside the room. "Rigel?" "I'm over here." "Over where?" Boomer looked in the direction of the voice but could see nothing due to the absence of light. "On the floor." "Where's the light switch?" "That's what I was looking for." "Did you find it?" In a very sarcastic tone, Rigel replied, "Of course I did. That's why I'm on the floor in the dark. Such a great view from down here." "Sorry," was all Boomer said. Starbuck waited around the corner, peeping out to see if the trouble was coming his way. Sure enough it was. Mr. Trolley sped down the corridor "burning up" the deck and raced past Starbuck. Two Council Security guards ran at top speed trying to keep up with the red machine. They carried their blasters in their hands. Fortunately, the men ran much too fast to think of firing another shot. Their faces were almost as red as Mr. Trolley. They huffed and they puffed. Starbuck smiled. This was going to be fun. Right before the two guards turned the corner where Starbuck stood, he jut out his foot. They never saw it. One guard tripped over Starbuck's foot while the other stumbled over the first one falling. They were a mess. Starbuck grinned at them and said, "Sorry about that fella's. Did it hurt? It sure looked mighty painful hitting the deck. Could we see that again to film it for training classes?" "Why you....." The first guard pulled out the blaster from underneath himself. Starbuck was quick. He whipped his weapon out and had it pointed at the two men before the guard could aim at Starbuck. "Uh, uh, uh." Starbuck wiggled the index finger of his left hand. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. One shot is bad enough. When the Commander finds out, you'll be scrubbing the deck where you lay. Just think how much fun you'll have cleaning each and every deck on the Galactica. If you're good, maybe the Commander won't make you clean all the decks on all the other ships." It did not seem possible, but the first guard's face became even redder. Fury filled his eyes. He ground his teeth together ready to blow up at any micron. When Starbuck waved his blaster showing he meant business, the guard very reluctantly threw aside his own weapon. Starbuck went over and picked it up. With one hand, he stowed the guard's blaster at the waistline on his back while keeping his own weapon focused on the guards. "You too." The second guard sat up and tossed his weapon towards Starbuck. Starbuck picked it up and aimed it at the guards. "Good boys. Care to tell me what you're doing?" "We were instructed to stop that thing!" the first guard answered. "By whose orders?" Starbuck inquired. "Reese." "Uh-huh. Why?" "We weren't told why," the second guard answered. His face was a little less red, but not much. "Well, why don't you go back there? Maybe I'll forget about this little matter for now. But if I see you again....." The guards knew what would happen. They stood up and quietly walked back in the direction from whence they came. The first guard grumbled underneath his breath. "What was that?" Starbuck asked. He stowed the second guard's weapon at his waist in front. The first guard refused to do anything but continue walking away. When they were out of sight, Starbuck turned to looked for Rigel and Boomer. He kept quiet so his voice did not carry any further than it should. The first door he came upon was the supply room. He released the door lock and the door swooshed open. Boomer was standing there holding Miss Trolley under one arm with her controls in the other. Rigel stood beside him with a little smudge mark on her chin. "I won't even ask. The machine headed down that way." Starbuck pointed. "Let's go follow it." Again he took the lead as Boomer and Rigel fell into step directly behind him. When Mr. Trolley noticed he wasn't being chased anymore, he screeched to a halt and did a 180 degree turn, parked and kept watch. This gave his engine a chance to cool. It was good the bag of mushies had long since fallen off. It was such a "drag." Shortly after he turboed past Reese, the heat from his turbo engines heated up the glue enough to make it lose grip on the bag. Surprisingly, the bag did not melt from the turbo heat due to the special compound used in its manufacture. However, the mushies inside were little more than mush. Waiting, Mr. Trolley detected no stomps from the men chasing him. In fact, at that micron there were no other sounds out of the ordinary. The only thing he detected was the gentle deck vibration from the Galactica engines. All of a sudden there was a flash of light. It appeared on the far wall for only a half-micron. Maybe it was nothing. Mr. Trolley had been a little overworked lately with everyone chasing him. He could definitely use some lubricant. At least everything else checked out to be fine internally. There it was again. Mr. Trolley ventured forward at a very slow rate. He was a little curious as to what had caused the flash. There were so many things he did not know about this ship. To be a fully versatile, multi-purpose machine, Mr. Trolley had to know his new territory. And to know, he had to discover the source of the peculiar flash. It did not take long to discover the source. It peeked out around the corner. Mr. Trolley did not believe it. He rolled closer to the source. It peeked out again. Regardless of what Mr. Trolley believed, the source of the flash was very similar to himself, but pink instead of red. If Mr. Trolley had a head, he would have shook it. He asked himself, "Self, is it possible there is another trolley on board this big ship?" "Must be, Self. Go get acquainted." Mr. Trolley increased his speed to meet a fellow machine. By the time he arrived, the pink trolley was gone, all gone. He turned down the next corridor and saw the tail end of it. Mr. Trolley raced after the evasive pink trolley. He came up to a T-junction with no trace of his new counterpart. It spoke! Mr. Trolley heard it!! No response. Which way had the sound come from? It was hard to tell. Mr. Trolley had to make a choice to go left or right. There was a 50/50 chance to pick the correct direction. Nope, no response echoed through the corridor. Left or Right? Which way was right? Right! That's it. The pings had to come from the right. Why didn't Mr. Trolley figure it out sooner? He had to go right. That was the right direction. Mr. Trolley sped off to find ... --- that other trolley. He was in Hot Pursuit! ****** "It worked guys! It worked!!!" Rigel shut the door and ran over to give Boomer and Starbuck a hug. Boomer still had the controls in his hand during the quick hug. "That's only Phase 1," Boomer replied earnestly. "Yeah, well, I think it's going to work out for us. Hey, we got 'him' ah, ..... chasing 'her' like any other man." Starbuck held his feelings in check for the time being. He'd celebrate when the task was completed. Although he did hesitate to refer to the machines as "him" and "her." It felt awkward, yet revived plenty of memories from his young, pre-academy sectons. "Let's set up Phase 2." Rigel asked, "You ready for it, Boomer?" "Yup." Starbuck picked up the pink machine. It gave him time to admire his work. With the help Rigel gave him on touch-ups, it sure was a fine piece afterall. No wonder the red one was so interested in the pink one. Rigel made sure the corridor was clear. They hurried down to the next area in their itinerary. Based on where Mr. Trolley had been and which way he went in pursuit of Miss Trolley, Starbuck figured they had a 63% chance of being in the right place. Those were not the best odds, but they weren't too shabby either. Of course, this wasn't like playing Pyramid. ***** Mr. Trolley began to backtrack some of his traveled routes since the T-junction. It seemed the right path was not right after all. Must have been left. But was left really right or was right right and if he continued to travel right, would he find the pink trolley? No, it must be left. Good. He had to discover who the mystery trolley was and from whence it came if at all possible. Mr. Trolley passed by the laundry areas. It certainly was a large area to accommodate clothing from the regular compliment of crew in a battlestar. Ever since the Holocaust though, the area was overworked around the clock. There were simply too many people on board and not enough machines. Repairmen were on stand-by in case any machine broke down. If more than one ever malfunctioned, the facility became a room of pure chaos. It was a dangerous place for a trolley to navigate. Mr. Trolley was fortunate clothing was not in his job description. A search of this area was futile. No trolley in its right gears would even think of rolling through an area like this. A rumble noise came into Mr. Trolley's detection range. It grew louder by the micron. Mr. Trolley rotated around and around until he knew what monster machine headed his way. When he saw it, he did not wait around to become aquatinted with it. The monster was a huge, square, metal container. That thing had the capacity to fit one hundred trolley's with room to spare. Had Mr. Trolley waited around, there might not have been much left of him. Mr. Trolley had to return to his prior goal. Having no desire to meet the likes of that monster again, he circled around through a few connecting corridors to find the T-junction where his search began. Mr. Trolley made note to DING for improved electronics and accessories to help in this new domain. The Neighborhood of Make-Believe was nothing compared to this. The calling was off in the distance. But which way did it originate? Mr. Trolley was at a crossing in the corridors. Besides the section he just traveled, there were three possible routes to take. The other trolley was still too distant to determine which way Mr. Trolley had to go. He had to ask a different question in hopes of determining the correct direction. It was clear to Mr. Trolley that this was not going to be an easy task. Why was the other trolley being so evasive? Did Mr. Trolley ding something wrong? Fantastic! He heard a different response and almost knew which way to go. Hopefully, only one more question was needed to lead the way. Mr. Trolley did not wait another micron. He turned left and rolled down the corridor. If he were to go too fast, it may frighten the other trolley. Yet if he went to slow, he would lose her. At least Mr. Trolley knew the other was a her. He had his doubts at first not seeing or hearing enough, but now he was sure. Mr. Trolley was at another junction. He circled around to look down the other three directions as a daggit would sniff the trail. Not really confused, but misguided, Mr. Trolley took his best guess and traversed another corridor. There she was. The pink trolley, Miss Trolley, awaited at the end of the corridor. Mr. Trolley decreased his speed to avoid scaring her. He liked what he heard. Mr. Trolley continued his cautious approach towards his new friend. When he was within a metron of her, Mr. Trolley began to circle around Miss Trolley. She flashed her light at him everytime he was in front of her. In order to keep Mr. Trolley in front of her, Miss Trolley rotated on her vertical axis. She gave off an occasional ping when Mr. Trolley was least suspecting it. He returned the call with a ding. Their little serenade was like a semry circling in the air, chirping a chorus, boasting what he had to offer, courting his future mate waiting in the nearby tree. Miss Trolley stopped rotating around. It was fortunate a trolley was not capable of dizziness. Otherwise, Miss Trolley's gyros may have continued spinning chaotically. Mr. Trolley stopped on her one side to see what she would do. Mr. Trolley felt as if he floated in the heavens. Miss Trolley took advantage of his lull and raced off down the corridor. Mr. Trolley flashed his light in astonishment. He recollected his energy and went after her. Miss Trolley was not going to escape from him this time. Alas, she had the upper edge. With the headstart, she sped off, zig zagging through corridors and into an open duct at deck level. Starbuck pulled the cover closed and crawled away from it. By the time Mr. Trolley arrived, there was no one there. Mr. Trolley was shocked. He did not know if he was able to continue this chase and hide game. He felt foolish not parking real close to Miss Trolley to make sure she was not a figment of his imagination. Maybe it was space sickness. That might have caused Mr. Trolley to have delusions. Or was Mr. Trolley really in a dream? If he was, Mr. Trolley did not want to wake up. To check his state, Mr. Trolley sent a higher voltage of electricity through his systems. Yup, he was awake and lost again. It seemed Miss Trolley was not for him. He turned and began to slowly travel down the corridor. The ding was a very sorrowful one filled with much regret. Mr. Trolley did not know what to do with himself. Even though some people on board were very nice to him, it was not the same as having another trolley there. He never had a trolley to befriend. Mr. Trolley was unique. With meeting this new trolley, he was lifted to new spirits to have a friend just like him, but a her-friend. Starbuck left one corridor and walked towards Mr. Trolley. He acted as if he had other matters on his mind. Mr. Trolley certainly failed to notice Starbuck. He merely continued his low ding rolling down the corridor. There was nothing in Mr. Trolley's universe except for himself and the emptiness of space. Starbuck kept his head turned one way but moved his eyes to follow Mr. Trolley. He sidestepped to be in Mr. Trolley's path. Mr. Trolley drove right into Starbuck's boot. Starbuck looked down, but said nothing. The dings were a mixture of apologies and sorrow. Mr. Trolley knew he should have paid attention to where he went, but he did not really care to do so. He backed up enough to go around Starbuck's feet and continued his dings of anguish. "Hey! What's got your motor?" Mr. Trolley never heard Starbuck. "Hey!!!!!!" That one yanked Mr. Trolley back into this universe. He turned to face Starbuck. "Something bothering you? You sound like the Cylons stole your delivery. What's up?" Starbuck had not the foggiest idea of what the ding's meant. They were definitely far from what he heard when Mr. Trolley flung the cubits everywhere during the Pyramid game. Knowing what had happened to Mr. Trolley though, it was time to have a talk, man to machine. "Lady problems?" That sounded like a "Yes" to Starbuck. He looked off in the distance and asked, "Is she playing hard to get?" "Ah yes. That's happened to me too much. Wanna talk about it?" "Let me tell you a story. There was this girl from Virgon. I saw her floating around at the academy. I saw her in the stands at the Triad games I was in, but she always disappeared into the crowd." "Ah! So it's happening to you!" "Well, here's how I caught her. One secton she was strolling to the lounge. She thought I was in class. I stayed far back and made sure she didn't see me. When I knew she sat down, I hurried in and switched places with the waiter..." Starbuck went on to tell Mr. Trolley how he eventually captured her heart. The lounge was only the beginning. Starbuck recounted how hard he had to work to score a date with the girl. In the end, the effort was well worth it. As the story progressed, Mr. Trolley's light went from dim to bright. He eagerly listened to every word of Starbuck's story. Mr. Trolley waited in anticipation for the moral of the story. "Hey, don't get so excited. You might blow a circuit or two." Mr. Trolley spun around and saw Miss Trolley. He spun back to face Starbuck, then once again to face Miss Trolley. She "winked" at him and made circles wiggling. Mr. Trolley rolled forward then back again. Soft enough not to be heard by anyone, he dinged nervously. Starbuck knelt down and whispered to Mr. Trolley, "What are you waiting for? She's there for you." The dings were still nervous and Starbuck still had no idea what they meant. If this red machine was going to be around the ship, the scientist better come up with a translator. "Hey, look. If you don't go after her, you may never see her again. Do you want that to happen?" "Remember the story I just told you?" "Then do what I did. Go serenade her." Mr. Trolley rolled forward one quarter way towards Miss Trolley. He backed up once more to Starbuck. Starbuck shook his head back and forth. It was a very merry ding. Starbuck heard the joy in it. "If that's a Thank-You, then You're Welcome. Now get out of here!" Mr. Trolley went straight to Miss Trolley this time. They began to circle around the deck. Miss Trolley led the way with Mr. Trolley real close behind her. She changed the path to that of a Figure Eight. Mr. Trolley continued to follow. He dinged to her. She pinged back. The sound was a tad awkward at first, but soon turned into a melody. Mr. Trolley bumped into Miss Trolley on purpose. She braked and spun to face him. He backed up enough to spin around and travel in a big oval. Miss Trolley became the follower as the music from them continued. They each took turns being the leader and worked their way down the corridor. Starbuck stood in amazement as the two machines left sight. He did not know how to feel about it. Must have been a first for a machine to court another. Oh no. It was bad enough for the children to run around the ship. It was even worse from the havoc Mr. Trolley caused on his turbo crusade. Was it possible for there to be little machines zinging around the ship chasing each other? That would drive the crew insane. Did Starbuck make a monster out of the red machine? He certainly hoped not. Boomer and Rigel walked down from the wall recess where they had controlled Miss Trolley's actions. Both of them looked like they saw a ghost. It took a few centons but Starbuck finally noticed. His smile faded as his face took on a look of confusion. Their plan was working. At least he thought it was. The red machine fell for the pink machine. So what was up with Boomer and Rigel? Starbuck tried to lighten them up. "Boomer, hey that was a mighty fine control job you did. You two certainly have him falling for our machine." Boomer's expression did not change. "That's just it." "What's it?" Rigel jumped in. "He was controlling her at first, then lost control of her." Starbuck could not believe what he was hearing. "What do ya mean, 'lost control?' " "It's as she says. I was controlling the pink machine at the beginning, then it kept moving on its own. It was right about the time you heard the clash of pings and dings." "But, the dings and pings blended together and sounded real good." Boomer nodded. "Yeah, but that wasn't me who did it. 'She,' the machine, must have done it on her own." "Oh oh," Starbuck sighed. "What are we going to do now?" Rigel asked. "What can we do?" Boomer suggested, "Tell the Commander." "And with two machines on the loose, you and I will be doing long range patrol for a long, long time." The conversation continued between Boomer and Starbuck. Rigel looked off down the corridor lost in thought. Starbuck suggested, "There has to be something else we can do." "Like what?" Boomer replied. "Well, now. Maybe we can go back to quarters and act like nothing ever happened. Only us three knew about it." "And what will happen when our creation starts flying around? Sooner or later we'll have to admit we made it." "Guys?!?" Rigel said. "Hm. I'll think of something. Just give me a micron." "I hope it's better than your wagering schemes." Starbuck stood tall. "Boomer, that's not fair." "GUYS!!!!" "What is it?" Boomer asked. "Look down there." Mr. Trolley, along with Miss Trolley came merrily traveling down the corridor. They were still pinging and dinging, flashing their lights at each other. Starbuck, Rigel and Boomer formed a wall to block the little machines. Starbuck did some quick thinking and had a plan. This was a plan he knew would work. He always loved it when a plan came together. He yelled out, "I told you so." The two machines stopped about a metron from the three people. Starbuck looked at the red trolley. "Are you happy now?" He looked at the pink trolley. "Do you like him?" "Great. Now why don't we take you up to Commander Adama and introduce you to him. He'll be mighty pleased to meet you two." That was most certainly the truth, although not quite the way Starbuck expressed it. Mr. Trolley turned slightly to Miss Trolley. She turned also. Mr. Trolley turned to face Rigel. "I most certainly think you should go. You're such a lovely couple," she said. "That's it then?" Boomer asked. "That's it. Let's go see the Commander." ***** "Enter." Commander Adama looked up from his desk to see who buzzed at his door. Alas, it was Starbuck and Rigel. What were they doing together? It was better not to ask. Starbuck certainly had a way with women. Starbuck exclaimed, "Commander, have we got a surprise for you." "And you're going to be very PLEASED with it," Rigel added. She stressed the word, "Pleased." They stood in front of the Commander's desk. Adama remained very calm. He solemnly asked, "Pleased. How pleased is that?" Rigel's face was brighter than a supernova. She worked hard to contain her jubilant energy. "Sir, you are going to be very PLEASED!" "Excuse me, Commander." Starbuck walked over to the door to open it. He motioned for those waiting to enter Adama's office. Mr. Trolley came in first. "Calm down," Starbuck whispered. "Oh Heavens." Adama did not sound too happy. Rigel rolled back and forth on her feet. "Sir, you are PLEASED are you not?" "Oh yes." Adama smiled and tried to lighten up. Starbuck introduced Mr. Trolley to Commander Adama. "Commander, do you remember our little red friend here?" "Do I ever." "Well, sir, he's been a VERY good machine and is ready to begin working." Starbuck looked down at Mr. Trolley. "Right?" Mr. Trolley rolled backed and forth in synch with Rigel, dinging as merrily as a machine was capable of dinging. He kept his light off for the time being. Adama asked, "How GOOD has he been?" "Sir, he's been so good, he promises not to cause any more problems. He didn't really mean to cause any problems to begin with. It's more like he was a frightened child in an unknown area. " Adama breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, I see. I'm, ah, glad to see your ready for duty." "What did 'he' say?" Starbuck shrugged while Rigel bent over to calm down Mr. Trolley. She rested her hand on the top of his roof and whispered something neither Starbuck nor Commander Adama could understand. Nonchalantly, Rigel elbowed Starbuck in the leg. "Ow. Now why.... Oh yeah. Commander, let me introduce you to, um, his partner." Miss Trolley rolled through the open doorway and parked herself next to Mr. Trolley. Mr. Trolley began to flash his light. Boomer walked in behind Miss Trolley and closed the door behind him. "Oh, Lord. Two of them?" "Yes, sir. We have two of them." Rigel went on to explain to Commander Adama the plan Starbuck shared with Boomer, how Boomer asked her for help, and how they built Miss Trolley, then lost control of her after enough intervention with Mr. Trolley. "I see." Adama rubbed his chin and remained quiet. The tension built as all five awaited for the Commander's decision on what would be done with the two trolley's. Adama stood and walked around to inspect the machines. He showed no signs of being happy the trolley's were captured or unhappy that there were two of them to run around the ship. "Well, I'm glad we have two new crew members. Welcome aboard." Starbuck and Boomer began to breathe again. Adama continued his plan. "As new members, you will have to be briefed and sworn in. I'll let Colonel Tigh have that honor. Now, you must promise not to cause any trouble. Promise?" "Good. Dismissed." Mr. and Miss Trolley rolled on to the door. It obediently opened for them to pass through. Once the door slid closed, Commander Adama turned to address his bridge officer and two warriors. "I'm not sure if I should commend you or not. It is good you caught the red machine. It is not good for there to be two. It is good they both seem to be obedient. It is not good for them to have their own initiative although they may certainly give the Cylons a run in the future. It is also good you three seem to have their trust. I suppose you all had the best intentions." The three of them nodded. "Okay. Boomer?" "Sir?" "Since you are the main person responsible for the actual building of the pink machine, even though you no longer control it..." "Her," Boomer corrected. "You no longer control her, what do you feel you deserve?" "You could allow me to upgrade my viper personally without any of the tech crew's interference." "Sounds reasonable enough. Done. I'll give word after you leave." "Thank you, sir." Boomer was pretty satisfied with the results. There was so much he wanted to do with his viper to enhance its abilities. He had ideas the technicians thought were absurd only because they were in their own galaxy where only they knew what to do. Everyone else was stupid when it came to technical issues. Commander Adama turned his attention to Rigel. "It seems the plan may not have worked without your valuable input, Rigel. Ila always did say a woman's touch is needed. Is there anything you wish to have?" "Sir, there are a few things I have been meaning to bring it to your attention. I believe now with the help of Mr. Trolley and Miss Trolley, we can improve the education of our youngsters a considerable degree. May also teach our viper pilots a thing or two." Boomer and Starbuck looked at each other before allowing their mouths to drop to the floor. They did not want to think what Rigel had in mind. No doubt, Cassiopea, Athena and Sheba were in on it. From past experience, when the women had a plan for the guys, the men were in trouble. Starbuck decided it was best for Boomer, Apollo and himself to discuss the situation in private and be prepared for whatever it was the ladies planned. "Good. You prepare the objectives with an outline. I'll review it and we'll discuss the plan to make it possible." It may not have been thought possible, but Rigel was brighter than before. However, she did have a load of work in preparation for Commander Adama. The ideas rumbled through her brain, each one clashed with the other for domination. Which feeling was stronger? Anticipation? Eagerness? Joy? It was hard to say. "Starbuck, you are the toughest one. Who else would think of a 'she' for a 'he?' What really amazes me is it seemed to work out in your favor this time." "I did have Boomer and Rigel's help. Sir." "Yes you did. Perhaps that's why everything worked out. Teamwork does have its advantages. Now how should thank you for this?" "A harem of women?" The Commander of the fleet had a straight face as he stared at the brash lieutenant. "Only joking, sir. How about my own gaming chancellery?" Commander Adama's face did not even flinch. "I didn't think so. Well, sir, you see there is this one thing that would be nice." Starbuck saw the Commander's face was still expressionless. "It would be really nice. And I think it's only fair to ask for a bottle of Ambrosa from your private collection." Adama's straight face turned into a look of surprise before it relaxed into a grin. "A bottle of Ambrosa it is." Adama walked over to the shelves behind his desk. Underneath the Viper Pilot helmet on an upper shelf was a switch. Adama reached through the open face area and flicked the switch. The whole shelf case shifted into the wall on the right revealing a private collection of various liquor's from Adama's travels. The last time he opened this secret area was after the Holocaust was he wanted nothing more to do with it. The same time when Athena entered and tried to comfort him. Now, it was not so private. He picked up an unopened bottle of Ambrosa and took it over to Starbuck. "Now I trust this is going to remain between us and not go out of these walls." "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Starbuck nodded as he accepted the bottle from Adama. "Enjoy and share. All three of you are dismissed." Boomer, Rigel, then Starbuck hurried out of Commander Adama's office while the getting was good. Adama returned to his private stock, took out a glass and picked out a bottle for himself. A small glass was what he needed after all of this. His work secton was far from over. ****** [In Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood] Mr. Rogers sat on the bench next to Mr. Trolley's tracks. Another session of the Neighborhood of Make Believe finished. As always, Mr. Rogers gave the moral of the story and prepared the children for the next session. "See what Prince Tuesday did? By running away, everyone in the Neighborhood of Make Believe is worried about him. And he doesn't know what dangers are out there. We hope someone friendly will find Prince Tuesday or he'll hurry home before it gets dark..." "Mr. Trolley?" Mr. Rogers looked back into the wall opening which led to the Neighborhood of Make Believe. He saw a light growing larger by the minute. Mr. Trolley emerged from the wall opening and stopped beside Mr. Rogers. He cut off his front light as the stage lights glared down on his shiny red metal sides. "Where have you been, Mr. Trolley?" "That was last week's show. What were you still doing there?" "A new friend? Who is your new friend?" Miss Trolley came from the same wall opening pinging and flashing her light. She stopped an inch short of Mr. Trolley. For the fun of it, she bumped him once. Mr. Trolley rolled forward then backed up to meet Miss Trolley "bumper" to "bumper." "Miss Trolley?!?!?" Mr. Rogers said to himself, "I better talk to the prop manager." He increased his voice to address Mr. Trolley. "When did you meet her?" "If it's that long of a story, wait until after the show." "It's nice to meet you Miss Trolley." "Okay. Please tell me later. Get along you two." The two trolley's scurried out of site behind the other wall which was only really big enough to accommodate Mr. Trolley. How both trolley's fit there was not important at the moment. Mr. Rogers had to finish the show. In the background though, faintly heard, was some dinging and pinging. An occasional flash came from the parking area behind the wall. Mr. Rogers turned to Camera 4 on his right. With that one on, Mr. Trolley's parking place was not seen. "Where were we? Oh yes, Prince Tuesday ran away from the castle. You see? Mr. Trolley came back home where he belongs. Tomorrow we'll see how the search is for Prince Tuesday or if he comes back on his own. Okay. We have to go feed the fishies, then learn how to make chocolate chip cookies. So let's go to the kitchen." "CUT!" The light on Camera 4 went dark as the cameraman stopped recording. "Jerry, would you go get Ben and Judy in props?" "Sure thing, Fred." Cameraman 2 took off his headset and walked to the back stage door. He opened the door right into Zara's face. She hollered, "Why don't you watch where you're going?" "Sorry, ma'am." Jerry continued his walk to the prop department. He said under his breath, "No, I'm not." Zara closed the door and placed her ear up against it again while tending to her nose. She had to finish her eavesdropping. Zara was certain everyone on stage conspired against her. What did they know? Absolutely nothing as far as Zara was concerned. She was going to run this show. What better way to gain gossip knowledge than to eavesdrop? Back on stage, the makeup-lady touched up Fred Rogers' face in preparation for the cookie scene. Other stage hands prepared the kitchen. Ingredients had to be placed on the table with the bowls and mixing utensils. Lighting had to be adjusted. The oven had to be preheated. It was quite a flurry of activity. Mr. Rogers talked to the makeup lady. "I'm going to have to rewrite everything to handle two trolley's. It would have been nice had they prepared this for me. I am almost afraid to ask what is coming next. A whole train of little trolleys?" --- The End ---