FIC: Our Very Special Guest Stars
Title: Our Very Special Guest Stars
Author: lls_mutant
Fandoms: BSG/Pigs In Space
Rating: It's a crossover with felt. Do I REALLY need a rating?
Summary: The pigs were made from felt. They ate. They evolved. And they have a plan…. (Well, not really. But doesn't that sound good?)
Warnings: I apologize in advance. There's just so much about this that is wrong. But unless you had a childhood trauma relating to the Muppets, I seriously doubt there's anything triggering in here. Just… yeah.
"DRADIS contact! Admiral, I've got a ship coming in at seven three six."
Adama jerked to attention. "Cylon raider, Mr. Gaeta?"
"It… it doesn't appear so, sir." Gaeta rapidly typed something into the DRADIS console. "No."
"Mr. Hoshi." Adama spun around. "Are we making contact?"
"There's something coming, through, sir, but it's garbled. I'll try decoupling the frequencies, but it will take two minutes."
"Scramble the alert Vipers!" Adama ordered.
"Yes, sir," Lieutenant Dualla responded promptly.
Adama looked up at the DRADIS screen, and then over at Tigh. "What do you think, Colonel?"
"Another civilian ship from the Colonies?" Tigh said. "A Cylon ship we haven't seen yet? That's about all I can come up with, Bill, but this late in the game neither of those seem too likely."
"Sir," Hoshi interrupted, "I've got a signal."
"Already?"
"They must have done something to their own communications," Hoshi said.
"Put it on speaker," Adama ordered. The familiar sound of an open channel filled the CIC. "This is Admiral Adama, of the Battlestar Galactica. Who is this?"
The channel was scratchy with static, but the voice on the other end was smooth. "This is Captain Link Hogthrob, of the Swinetrek. I ask that you state your business."
"Sir," Hoshi interrupted again. "There's no Colonial code being transmitted."
"I'm getting a visual, sir," Gaeta said. "It doesn't… I don't know what they're burning in their engines, but every piece of data I'm receiving tells me there is no way this ship should have made it this deep into space."
Adama and Tigh exchanged glances. "Where are you from, Captain Hogthrob?" Adama demanded, noting as he said it that the man had a very unfortunate name.
"Earth."
Silence swept over the CIC. Stunned silence. Gaeta spoke first.
"That can't be right," he said, scrambling for his notes. "The Lions' Head was supposed to be a signpost. There are no class K stars around here with-"
Adama ignored him. "Who's flying CAP?" he demanded.
"Starbuck and Hot Dog, sir," Dee answered.
"Connect me." She did. "Starbuck. What do you see?"
"Where the frak do these guys come from, sir?" Starbuck demanded.
"Not a clue, but I think you and Hot Dog had better bring them in."
"Right. But sir?"
"Yes?"
"I've got a bad feeling about this."
Tigh snorted. "Don't we all."
Adama rolled his eyes. "Mr. Gaeta," he said, gesturing to Tigh to accompany him, "you have the deck." He and Tigh strode out of the CIC.
"You gonna call the President in on this?" Tigh asked him as they made their way down to the landing bay.
"Not until I know what the frak is going on," Adama growled. "I'm not bringing her over here into a potentially hostile situation."
"Might end up with Zarek in charge then," Tigh said, in what was meant to be agreement. They rounded the corridor and headed down the stairs to the landing bay.
The ship was just landing, flanked by the two Vipers. Neither Gaeta nor Starbuck had been lying about the ship's condition. It looked like it was cobbled together from tin cans. There were three thrusters in the back, and the entire ship bore an unfortunate resemblance to…
"Almost looks like a pig," Tigh muttered. "I gotta get used to this lack of depth perception."
"I don't think having two eyes would make it look any better." Adama gestured to the Marine contingent that was waiting, and they surrounded the ship, cocking their weapons. He took his place on the landing bay floor, facing the hatch, Tigh at his side. The hatch slid open with an odd bloop sort of sound.
Three pigs climbed off. Two of them had blond hair, one female, one male; the third had wispy white hair. And he wore glasses. They wore shiny uniforms, garishly made and crudely colored.
"Greetings," said the male pig with blond hair. "I am Captain Link Hogthrob."
Adama's eyes rolled up into the back of his head and his knees gave out. To everyone's shock, the Admiral of the Fleet fainted dead away at the sight of the talking pigs.
Tigh envied him intensely.
"Get a medic over here!" he yelled. He saw people running, and then turned back to the pig, who was regarding Adama with what must be a confused expression. "You're Captain Hogthrob."
"Of course." The pig looked at him with a who else? sort of expression. "Who are you?"
"I'm Colonel Tigh. I'm the XO of this ship."
"Well, this is First Mate Piggy," he gestured to the female pig, who tossed her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, "and Dr. Strangepork."
For the first time, Tigh wished Baltar was not in the hack, because introducing Baltar to a pig would be far too much fun. He became aware that something was expected of him. "You said you're from Earth."
"Mmm." The pig straightened himself up. Tigh realized that he only came up to his chest, and relaxed a little. "We are from Earth."
"I'm not a religious man," Tigh began, "but I'm pretty sure the Scrolls never made mention of the Thirteenth tribe being pigs."
He didn't dare to look around; they might be pigs, but Tigh wasn't going to bet his life on their intentions. And yet, he was beginning to hear the snickers from the other crew members in the bay.
Because, really. They were pigs.
"Oh, frak it," Tigh muttered. "I really need a drink."
***
"Pigs," Tyrol said. "Somebody is pulling a frakking joke on us. That's the only explanation for talking pigs that say they're from Earth."
"No," Lee said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not a joke. At least not the talking pigs part. There is no one who could pull this off."
"It's just not possible," Tyrol insisted.
"Well, go look at the frakking talking pigs that are in the landing bay and tell me that again!" Lee snapped. "Would you just get your crew together and check out their ship? That's an order!"
"Pigs," Tyrol repeated, but he was walking away to gather his people together. "We're really gonna talk to pigs."
Lee wished he could follow his father's example and faint dead away. He was beginning to wonder if the Admiral was faking it.
"Sir." A knuckledragger was edging closer cautiously, obviously the bearer of bad news.
Lee spun. "What now?"
"The deck chief of the Swinetrek wants to see you."
"They have a deck chief?"
The ensign standing in front of him shifted slightly. "Well, he didn't call himself that," he said nervously. "But I heard one of his crew call him 'Chief.'"
"Is he a pig?" Lee asked warily.
"No, sir."
"Oh, thank the Lords of Kobol."
"He's a frog."
Lee smacked his forehead.
***
"So, what make of a ship is this?" Captain Hogthrob asked Tigh as they walked through the halls of Galactica, flanked by Marines.
"It's a battlestar," Tigh groused. He didn't think he should be giving any more information than necessary, even to a pig wearing spandex. "You're really from Earth." He could not wrap his mind around that concept.
The female pig- simply called First Mate Piggy, Tigh hand been informed- was looking around interestedly. As she did, they passed a group of pilots, including Narcho and Helo, who were staring wordlessly. "Whoa, momma," she said in a low, gravelly voice. "Those are your pilots? Boy, have I been on the wrong ship."
"What?" Tigh said, simply because he couldn't believe she'd just said that.
The pig looked at him, widened her heavily-lashed eyes, and laughed. "Oh, ha ha ha, nothing. Just commenting on the… physical fitness of your fighter pilots. They seem… very defined."
"Really?" the white-haired pig asked. Tigh noticed he didn't pronounce his r's or his l's quite right, so the word sounded more like "Weawwy?" "He doesn’t look much like a dictionary to me."
Tigh ignored that; after all, after working with Baltar and his imaginary friend, a pig scientist making bad puns was actually an improvement. That thought was disturbing, but he continued through the corridor anyway. He led them into a conference room, where President Roslin was waiting with Tory Foster at her side.
"Where's the Admiral?" Roslin demanded immediately.
"You don't want to know," Tigh said.
"I must say, I don't think much of an Admiral that faints at the first sign of contact," Hogthrob said.
Tigh was going to answer, but Roslin beat him to it. "It's a medical condition," she snapped.
"Oh, really?" the white-haired pig said. "What does he have?"
"Trichinellosis," Roslin said with a completely straight face. Tigh had to struggle to keep his snicker down. The two male pigs didn't seem to take anything of it, but First Mate Piggy's eyes narrowed.
"What are you saying?" she said.
Roslin's eyes locked with Piggy's. "I'm saying that the Admiral has a medical condition, and that is more than you need to know. Now," she said, before Piggy could open her mouth to respond, "Colonel Tigh tells me that you are all from Earth."
"Yes," Hogthrob said. "I take it from your antiquated spacecraft and your confusion over basic celestial navigation that you are… shall we say, not from around here?"
Roslin glanced at Tigh. "Antiquated spacecraft?" she asked incredulously. "From what I understand…" she cut herself off and shook her head. "Never mind. Somehow, I think that might not be important. We are from the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."
"Never heard of them," the scientist pig said.
The President rubbed her forehead. "Is it just pigs on Earth?" she asked. "Or are there other sentient species as well?"
"Well, there's bears."
"Bears?"
"Bears. And dogs. And chickens and things."
"And things?" There was a slightly crazed look in Roslin's eyes.
"What are you implying?" Captain Hearthrob asked. "I assure you, Dr. Strangepork-" there was a snort from Tory's direction, but when Tigh looked she was managing to maintain a straight face. "Dr. Strangepork is an expert on alien life forms."
"I see," Roslin said. She folded her hands and leaned in, speaking as if she was addressing her question to a child. "And are there humans on Earth?"
"Humans? Of course! What do you think, lady, that the whole planet is populated by pigs?"
This time, the giggle from Tory was unmistakable. Tigh wanted to reprimand her, but he was afraid that if he met her eyes, he'd burst into hysterical laughter himself. The entire situation was too bizarre for words.
Roslin wasn't smiling. "And your crew?" she asked. "Do you have humans on your crew?"
"Are you insane?" Hogthrob demanded. "Let humans mess with the controls of a highly sophisticated, extremely complicated spacecraft?"
"Yeah, it's not like you ever remember what button to push," Tigh thought he heard Piggy mumble under her breath.
When Tigh dared to peek, he saw that Tory's shoulders were shaking, and Roslin was rubbing her forehead. "Are we close to Earth, then?" she asked.
"Hardly," Hogthrob said. "We're far out into deep space, light years from home."
"What brings you so far out here?"
"We've been pursued by the insidious Dearth Nadir."
Tigh stopped laughing. "Dearth Nadir?" he asked, wondering what sort of new threat they'd brought down on themselves now, as if Cylons, starvation, and Baltar hadn't all been enough.
"He's the evil scourge of the galaxy. A force to be feared. A-"
"What are his forces like?" Tigh interrupted. "What does he do?"
"He's terrible," Hogthrob said. "He closes his fist around the throat of freedom. He ravages the innocent. He crushes dreams and brings terror to all that he sees!"
Dr. Strangepork shuddered. "When he boarded the Swinetrek, he ordered his chicken stormtroopers to peck the crew to death."
Tigh and Tory both lost it.
"All right," Roslin said, raising her voice so she could be heard. "You two, out. I don't think I'm in any danger, and I can't conduct any sort of conversation with the two of you acting like five year olds. Get out."
Tigh managed to straighten his face long enough to say, "Yes, sir." He left the room, Tory on his heels. The hatch slammed shut behind them.
"Chicken stormtroopers," Tory sputtered, and they both dissolved into laughter again.
***
The rumors whipped around Galactica with the speed of the desert winds on Tauron. Pigs. On Galactica.
"Is it true, sir?" Vireem asked Lee, Gage standing beside him.
This was the last thing that Lee needed right now. "Yes, Specialist, it's true."
"Pigs."
"Mostly. Although their deck chief is a frog, and I've heard rumors of a gopher and a bear on the ship."
"But pigs."
"Get to the point, Specialist."
"Really, sir?" Vireem asked incredulously. Gage nodded enthusiastically. "Sir. They're pigs. Like, bacon pigs. Ham pigs. Pork pigs. We've been eating algae for the past few months PIGS."
"Wait. Wait," Lee held up a hand. "Talking pigs have boarded Galactica on a spaceship, and you are suggesting we eat them?"
"Sir," Gage said, "algae."
"Al-gae," Vireem emphasized. "Green, slimy, di-sgusting algae."
"I get it!" Lee shouted. "But they're sentient! They aren't pigs so much as they're… they're…" he struggled for a word. "They wear spandex!"
"Technically, sir, it's lamé," Gage said. "And the frog doesn't wear anything."
Lee hit his head against the wall.
***
On the hangar deck, and interested crowd had managed to gather, despite Tyrol's best intentions to drive them all away. But he couldn't deny his own intense curiosity as to who kept this collection of tin cans running.
The frog came out and offered Tyrol his hand. "I'm Kermit," he said, sounding like this was all completely reasonable. "This is my assistant Scooter, and this is Fozzie, one of our pilots."
"Hi-ya," the bear said.
"Nice to meet you," Tyrol said, because really, what the frak else could you say? The pilots who were ostensibly taking care of their birds were snickering. "So, you want to show me this ship?"
Kermit shrugged. "Sure. We can do that. You two stay here," he ordered Scooter and Fozzie.
Duct tape, Tyrol soon learned, was the force that held this ship together. Duct tape and a hell of a lot of luck, as Kermit used words like thingamjig and transiomaterial whosit.
"How the frak did you guys even break atmo?" he demanded.
Kermit shrugged. "Oh, you know. These things have a way of happening."
Well, it was talking pigs piloting the frakking thing. Tyrol shook his head. "Let's go make sure that the crew isn't tearing the place apart," he muttered.
"It could be chaos out there," Kermit agreed.
The first thing they heard was laughter. Not everyone laughing- just one person. "So," Fozzie was saying, "the two fish are in a tank, and one turns to the other and asks, 'do you know how to drive this thing?' Ahh? Ahhhh?"
Hot Dog was doubled over with laughter, but the other pilots were exchanging glances. "And then what happened?" Racetrack asked.
Fozzie looked at her. "What do you mean? That's the joke. Wakka wakka wakka!" He wiggled his ears.
Racetrack looked at Skulls. "That was worse than your jokes."
"Yeah," Skulls said. "I can bearly stand it."
"What? You don't like that one?" Fozzie asked. "Well, why did the man put a sweater on his hot dog?"
"Ooh, why?" Hot Dog asked eagerly.
"Because it was a chili dog. Ahhh? A chili dog?"
"Oh gods," Hot Dog gasped. "That's hysterical!"
"Oh gods," Skulls said. "There's nothing like a good joke."
"Yup," Racetrack agreed mournfully. "And this was nothing like it!"
Hot Dog recovered enough to speak. "You two just don't appreciate good comedy," he said, draping an arm around Fozzie's shoulders.
"Well, at least we don't sit on the TV and watch the couch," Skulls taunted.
"Come on," Hot Dog said haughtily, guiding Fozzie away from Racetrack and Skulls, "I want to hear more of your jokes."
"Sheesh," Kermit sighed to Tyrol. "Just what Fozzie needs. Encouragement."
"And just what Hot Dog needs," Tyrol agreed. "New material." He sighed. "Come on," he said. "I'll show you some of our engines." He sighed again. "Why do I get the feeling that you're the only one on that ship with sense?"
***
Hoshi stood at attention in the war room, trying not to stare at Gaeta and instead thinking of the Pegasus after the attacks. After all, it was almost impossible to smile with those memories at the forefront of his mind. Or so he thought.
"All right," Tigh said, approaching the table and looking as fearsome as he normally did, even though he was accompanied by two pigs. "We need to assess what sort of threat this Dearth Nadir poses to us. Captain Hogthrob and Dr. Strangepork will be assisting us."
Gaeta looked like he always did- interested and alert. "What sort of numbers are we talking about?" he asked.
"Dearth Nadir commands one ship, with an army of Stormtroopers," Hogthrob explained.
"I understand the troopers are chickens?" Gaeta asked, consulting his notes.
"Yes," Dr. Strangepork confirmed. Gaeta made a notation on his clipboard, but otherwise didn't react. Hoshi didn't understand how he could manage to keep his face so blank.
"What sort of arms do they employ?" he asked Hogthrob.
"Wings," Dr. Strangepork said.
Gaeta's eyebrows went up. "Excuse me?
"Chickens have wings, not arms," Dr. Strangepork explained as if Gaeta was a moron.
"I know that," Gaeta began, "but what does that- oh." He blinked. "I meant what kind of weaponry do they have?"
"Oh! It's very strong!" Dr. Strangepork informed them. "It would be our undoing!"
"Your undoing?" Gaeta asked, concerned. "What is your undoing?"
"The same thing an un always does, of course," Hogthrob said.
Hoshi had to fight to keep his snort down, and Gaeta closed his eyes. "One more time," he said slowly. "Can you give me details about the weapons? Are they nuclear? Or conventional? Or something like… I don't know… lasers or photon beams or whatever?"
"Oh. I see. Well, he has a kryptoanagon transmitter," Dr. Strangepork explained. "It can totally neutralize any blaster."
Tigh looked at Gaeta and Hoshi. "Either of you understand that?"
"I've never heard of it," Hoshi admitted.
"I know transmitters," Gaeta admitted, "but kryptoanagon? I've seen references to it, but…" He sighed and ran his hand through his curls. "I hate to say it, but maybe we should talk to Baltar."
"You'd trust that lunatic?" Tigh demanded.
"Not really, but he's still the brightest mind left in existence," Gaeta said. Hoshi winced. "Maybe we should take Dr. Strangepork down to meet him." There was a maniacal look in Gaeta's eye, and Tigh smirked.
"Why not?" he asked. "What's the worst can happen? Mr. Hoshi. Stay here and finish briefing Captain Hogthrob."
Hoshi watched them leave helplessly. He then cleared his throat and turned back to Hogthrob, who was watching him with interest.
"Very nice young man, there," Hogthrob commented.
Hoshi ignored that and pulled his own notes towards them. "Have you had experience with this kyrptoanagon transmitter?" he asked.
"Too bad he doesn't notice you."
Pigs commenting on his romantic life (or lack thereof) was over the line. Hoshi lost sight of any humor in the situation. "I would appreciate it if you would answer the question."
"The problem is your hair."
"I need to know- excuse me?" Hoshi's hand went unconsciously to his blunt hairline. "I hardly think-"
"I've gathered that," Hogthrob said. "Which is why you need advice. Take it from me." Hogthrob smoothed back his golden hair, which even Hoshi had to admit was better than his own. "A hairstyle like this will get you noticed."
"Be that as it may, I really need to know about- hey! What the frak! Get off me!" Hoshi batted at the pig that had attacked his head. For one terrifying moment, he thought that they had vastly underestimated these intruders, but then Hogthrob stepped back.
"There," he said smugly. "Much better."
Hoshi reached up and touched his hair again. He couldn't see it, but he could feel some sort of goo in it, and he was willing to bet every cubit he had that his hair looked like Hogthrob's.
The hatch to the war room opened, and Dee walked in. She stopped short as she saw Hoshi. "What-"
"Don't ask," he warned her angrily. "Let's just get to the bottom of this, shall we?"
Dee pressed her lips together and nodded, and Hoshi tried to ignore the fact that she was ready to laugh her ass off.
***
"I'm telling you," Gage said, tying the rope, "if this works, we'll finally be eating something besides slop."
"And did you hear?" Vireem asked. "Their enemies are chickens. Chickens. If we're really lucky, they'll attack, and not only will we have pork, but chicken, too. Gods, it's been ages since I've had chicken."
Tory shook her head. "Forget it," she said disgustedly. "The President would never sanction this."
"But they're pigs!" Vireem protested.
"Who talk. Have you been eating the bodies of the people who have died on the ships?" Tory snapped.
"That's disgusting!" Gage said.
"My point exactly. They may be pigs, but they're still sentient beings. And if you don't cease and desist right now, you're going to find that you two are the ones headed out the airlock, not the pigs. Got it?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Now get back to work." Tory stalked off, her heels clicking on the metal floor.
Gage shook his head. "Oh well," he told Vireem. "That means more meat for us. Come on. We still need a few more things."
***
In the mess hall, Kara Thrace was witnessing an amazing sight.
"Oh, this is good stuff," Miss Piggy was saying, shoveling into the algae. "You got any more?"
"Have mine," Kara said, pushing her bowl over. She watched in fascination as Miss Piggy finished the first bowl and moved on to the second. "You really like that stuff?"
"Normally, I make it a practice to stay away from anything green," Miss Piggy said, snout almost in the bowl. "Salad is what food eats. But this stuff…."
"Glad someone likes it," Kara said.
Miss Piggy cleaned the second bowl and pushed it away. "Now then, Miss Thrace, is it?"
"It's Starbuck," Kara said, "or Captain Thrace. Not Miss."
"Alright, Kara. What do you do on this ship?"
"I'm a Viper pilot. Squadron leader."
"Pilot?" Miss Piggy asked, perking up. "You mean co-pilot, right?"
"No," Kara scoffed. "Pilot."
"But… they let you?"
"Let me? They'd better frakking let me. I'm the best damn pilot in the Fleet. Why wouldn't they let me?"
"Work with the morons I work with and you'll understand why," Miss Piggy muttered. "I've been stuck in my job since the seventies, first mate to an idiot who thinks that misogyny is the winner of a beauty contest."
Kara blinked.
"Trust me, honey, you've got it good," Miss Piggy growled. Then she laughed. "Is there any more of that algae?"
***
"So," Kermit said, as he, Tyrol. Helo, and Sharon sat on the wing of a Raptor, "killer robots that look exactly like humans are after you?"
"Yup," Tyrol sighed.
"They look that much like humans?" Kermit said speculatively. Athena waved, and Kermit stared at her. "Wait, you're one of them?"
Athena sighed. "It's not easy being a machine."
"Oh. I see." Kermit seemed to accept this with minimal consternation. But then, Helo supposed someone who worked with the crew he did would be able to accept this concept.
"I know it sounds crazy…" Helo began.
"Not really," Kermit said. "I'm a frog in love with a pig. This is positively normal."
Helo nodded, and the only think he could think was that he hoped that Kermit was referring to Miss Piggy, because the idea of a frog going for Hogthrob or Dr. Strangpork was just too much to handle.
***
"All right, people," Tigh said, striding back to the CIC, Gaeta and Dr. Strangepork in tow. "Let's get on this, keep alert. Dr. Strange-" he cut off, staring. "Mr. Hoshi."
"Yes, sir?" Hoshi said through gritted teeth.
"What the frak happened to your-"
"I don't want to talk about it, sir."
Gaeta nearly crashed into Tigh. "Wow."
Tigh opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and turned to Dee. "Lieutenant Dualla. I need a closed channel to talk to the captains of the Demetrius and the Astral Queen. Lieutenant Gaeta, get calculating those jump coordinates. Now. And Mr. Hoshi, take the tactical."
"Yes, sir." Dee and Hoshi moved immediately to their stations, but although Gaeta had spoken, he was still standing where he'd stopped, staring at Hoshi.
"Mr. Gaeta!" Tigh snapped. "Let's get moving!"
Gaeta opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Hoshi turned. "DRADIS contact," he shouted. "I've got ships coming in."
"How many, Mr. Hoshi?"
"Just one, sir. An unidentified ship."
"Right. Mr. Gaeta, can you-"
"Colonel," Dee announced, "I'm picking up a signal, but the squawk's not Colonial."
"Cylon?"
"I don't think so, sir. When I say squawk…" Dee's lips twitched.
"I have no time for games, Lieutenant."
Dee flipped the signal onto the speaker, and the "squawk" filled the air.
"It's a frakking chicken!" Tigh shouted.
Dee buried her head in her arms, her shoulder shaking.
"Give me that!" someone on the other end said. "Greetings, extraterrestrial ones. I am Dearth Nadir."
"Dearth Nadir!" Captain Hogthrob and Dr. Strangepork gasped.
"I am in possession of a technology so great and terrible, that you can only imagine- what?" There was a clucking, and Dearth Nadir obviously took up a side conversation.. "No, they can imagine. No, it doesn't sound more threatening that way. How can it be more threatening if they can't imagine it? Well, whatever." Dearth cleared his throat. "I am in possession of a technology that is so great, so terrible you can't even begin to imagine the damage it could do to you, unless you have an excellent imagination. Is that better?" Dearth asked his consultant. "It sure doesn't sound as threatening, but if you say so…" the chicken squawked indignantly.
Tigh looked around the room, trying to make eye contact with someone and failing miserably. Dualla was still consumed by an attack of the giggles, and Gaeta was still staring at Hoshi like he'd never seen him before. Hoshi was deliberately no looking at anyone and staring at the DRADIS. And even the pigs were useless, clutching each other and trembling in fear over a chicken.
"Sir," one of the grunts said. "Should we have the Fleet jump and scramble the alert Vipers?"
"Right!" Relieved for once that the Cylons attacked so often anyone in this room could tell him what to do, Tigh snapped back into command. "Scramble the alert Vipers."
Hoshi snatched up the intercom. "Action stations, action stations. Set condition one throughout the ship."
Tigh redirected his attention to the open channel. "What do you want, Dearth Nadir?" he demanded.
"The Swinetrek is aboard your ship. I want the ship and its crew. In return, you can go about your way unharmed."
Tigh looked at Gaeta and shrugged. The obvious question was why shouldn't we do this? The last thing they needed was these pigs.
Although they did know where Earth was.
Tigh turned on Captain Hogthrob and Dr. Strangepork. "If we do this… if we save your asses… you take us to Earth."
"Take you to Earth?" Strangepork asked. "But that… that's…."
"That's easy!" Hogthrob said. "Well, in theory anyway. But defeating Dearth Nadir…"
"I'm not making any promises," Tigh said. "But if you promise to get us to Earth, we'll keep you protected from this Nadir."
Hogthrob extended his hand. "It's a deal."
Tigh took it. "All right. Let's blow this frakker out of the sky."
***
"When they come back," Gage whispered to Vireem. "There will be enough chaos that we can do this thing."
Vireem high-fived him. "Meat tonight!"
***
"This is Galactica," Gaeta said. "How are we doing out there?"
"I wish you could see this, Galactica," Starbuck said. "I've never seen anything like it."
"Let me guess. It looks like a giant chicken?"
"No. Like an egg."
"Well, which came first?" Fozzie asked.
"Whichever one is smoking the cigarette, Wakka."
"At least something is smoking, Hot Dog," Racetrack laughed, "because you sure aren't."
"Keep it sharp out there," Tigh reminded them. "It might be an egg, but it's armed."
"They're launching fighters," Apollo said. "Red squadron, come with me. Blue squadron- oh for the love of Zeus, they look like…"
"Do I even want to know?" Tigh asked.
"Chickens, right?" Dee asked.
"You got it. At least we have the answer to our question," Apollo said. "So now that we're not dwelling on that, let's get back on track, shall we? Narcho, Showboat, you and your groups follow me. Starbuck, you take your squadron around to three seven eight. Hot Dog and Wakka, you two prepare the secret weapon. I really, really can't believe we're doing this."
"I can't believe any of this," Kermit said, chiming in from the bridge of the Swinetrek, which was still in the Galactica's hangar bay. "We're being attacked by chickens. Sheesh."
"Engaging the enemy," Apollo announced.
"What are they firing?" Saul asked, cringing in anticipation.
"Don't know, but it looks like it does some damage. It's probably petrified seed, but it can rip a hole in a Viper, I'll bet."
"Is it strange that that comforts me, sir?" Hoshi asked Tigh.
"No, I feel the same way. Familiar ground."
"Hey Hot Dog," Fozzie asked. "I was walking into the flight room, when suddenly I hear…"
"Oh, good grief!" Kermit commented, just as Hot Dog gleefully said, "Good grief! The pilot's a bear!"
"No, he's a-not! He's a-wearing a neck-a-tie!" Fozzie said triumphantly.
"If someone shoots you down, I'm not to blame," Racetrack warned.
"If someone shoots them down, they'll be heroes," Skulls added.
"Would you people just focus on the chicken stormtroopers swarming out of the egg and shooting at us?" Starbuck demanded. "For frak's sake, this isn't a joke!"
"Neither was what Wakka said," Skulls said.
"Just fly, damn it!"
The still-open channel crackled to life, and Dearth Nadir's laugh echoed through the CIC. "So! I see that you will continue to defy me! This means war!"
"We already figured that out from the chicken fighters firing at our Vipers," Tigh informed Dearth Nadir.
"Oh. I think I was supposed to say that earlier, but I was busy. When you're on a ship with so many beautiful chickens, you do tend to get distracted." A chicken bawked. "Aw, Camilla, you know I have eyes only for you."
Tigh shut his remaining good eye for a long moment and then opened it again. "Enough with the soap opera, let's just get back to the space battle, all right? Wakka and Hot Dog. How's that secret weapon coming?"
"Piece of cake!" Fozzie exclaimed.
"Actually, it's a piece of pie," Hot Dog corrected.
"Galactica, once again I'd like to express my complete disbelief at this idea. And that we even found pie. Couldn't we have eaten it?" Apollo complained.
"It will work!" Dr. Strangepork insisted. "Dearth Nadir will never see it coming!"
"Where'd we even get pie from, anyway?" Narcho asked.
"It's twenty two divided by seven," Gaeta piped up. "Three point one four one five nine-"
"Enough!" Tigh shouted. "I don't like it any better than you all do, but that's what the Swinetrek had aboard! Now Hot Dog and Wakka, throw the damn pie, for frak's sake!"
"All right!" Hot Dog's voice was gleeful over the wireless. "Let's do this!"
Silence lingered momentarily in the CIC. Then…
"A hit!"
Dearth Nadir's voice came over the channel again. "No!!!!" he raged. "I'm melting! Melting!" A quick squabble of a chicken, or a pair of them. "Oh. We're not melting. But you haven't seen the last of me! I will be back! I will be-" the communication cut off.
"They're gone, sir," Apollo announced.
"Good. Let's get our birds home and get the frak out of here."
***
The CIC had exploded into cheers. Dearth Nadir might not have been the most fearsome enemy they ever faced, but any time all the pilots came back safe it was cause for celebration.
In the midst of the shouting, the hugging, and Tigh looking incredibly satisfied with himself, Gaeta made his way over to Hoshi. "I know this sounds crazy," he said, under the cover of the noise, "since the only thing the mess hall serves is algae. But after this shift… do you want to come with me to get dinner?"
Hoshi stared at him in utter amazement. Fortunately, Dee was near enough to kick him in the shin, and he managed to get his mouth working long enough to say, "Yeah. I'd like that a lot."
Gaeta smiled. "Great." His eyes raked over Hoshi one more time. "I'll see you then."
From a few feet away, Captain Hogthrob smirked at Hoshi. "It works every time."
Hoshi flushed.
***
"All right," Vireem whispered. "Here we go. When she gets away from the crowd…."
"It's bacon time," Gage agreed. They were in a storage locker, peeking out of a slightly cracked hatch, watching Miss Piggy talk to some of the officers. "You think Starbuck is going to step up and defend her?"
"We do this right, Starbuck won't even know we've got her," Vireem pointed out. The pilots were celebrating, and Miss Piggy was right in there with them, hugging Narcho and feeling up Helo. It was a testament to their growling stomachs that neither Vireem nor Gage could be bothered to make a joke about that.
"All right, all right… here she comes," Vireem said to Gage, whacking him on the arm.
"Ow!"
Miss Piggy had indeed peeled off from the group and was headed down the hall. "Now, don't you go anywhere," she was saying over her shoulder to Narcho. "I just want to slip into something a little more comfortable for vous." She laughed, a laugh that was supposed to be tinkling, but was nothing of the sort. "Holy momma," she muttered. "This is gonna be a good night."
"That it is, sweetcheeks," Vireem said, stepping out into the hall and grinning nastily. He slipped his arm around Miss Piggy's shoulders. "You've got a date with my friend and me, here."
"Oh?" Miss Piggy sized them both up and laughed. "I don't remember being asked," she said. "And surely, if you are gentlemen…."
"We ain't gentlemen, honey," Gage said. "It's gonna be you, me, Vireem, and a steak knife. An awfully big steak knife."
Miss Piggy pulled away from Vireem. "What are you implying?" she asked, and her voice wasn't so sweet anymore.
"Implying?" Vireem asked. "Hell, sweetheart, we aren't implying anything. We've been on this frakking ship for a long time with only algae to eat, and tonight, we've got us a hankering for some ham hocks."
"Well, you aren't getting them from me," Miss Piggy said.
"Who's gonna stop us?" Gage asked. "You? We're trained soldiers in the Colonial Fleet. You're a pig. A talking, walking, spaceship flying pig, yes, but you're still just walking bacon."
"All right! That's it!" Miss Piggy's eyes flared open. "Heeeee-YAH!"
Later, the fight was gleefully recounted by the pilots as one of the best fights in the history of the Galatica. Truthfully, it wasn't. Miss Piggy had Gage and Vireem on the floor begging for mercy in a matter of minutes, and her hair tossed over her shoulder as Narcho and Helo hog tied them for her only minutes later. (Narcho and Helo were both wise enough not to comment on "hog tying.") But then, perhaps that was exactly why it was one of the best fights in Galactica's history- how could Gage and Vireem being beaten up by a pig NOT be good?
"Seriously," Athena told Hoshi as Starbuck, Racetrack, and Gaeta congratulated Miss Piggy on her victory, "this day could not get any better."
"So say we all," Hoshi said, and the two of them high-fived.
***
The celebration had calmed and the Fleet had reassembled at the new coordinates when Laura made her way down to sickbay. "How is he?" she asked Cottle.
"Go in and see for yourself," Cottle said.
That confirmed everything she thought. Laura went into the cubicle where Bill was, supposedly deep in a coma. She stood over his inert form (notably not hooked to any life support), her arms crossed as she looked down at him.
He cracked one eye open. "Are they gone?"
"Nope."
"Then go away, woman. I'm in a coma."
"You've been in a coma long enough," Laura said, and pulled down the covers. "Get up."
"You don't just get up from a coma!"
"You're faking it! You might have really fainted, but you're not in a coma! You're talking to me, for frak's sake!"
Bill opened both eyes. "You're swearing."
"So I am. Now get up, Admiral. You've got a Fleet to lead."
He sighed and sat up. "A Fleet that now includes three pigs."
"And a frog, a gopher, and a hot shot bear pilot. Oh, and you're short two humans."
Bill cringed. "Who'd we lose?"
"Gage and Vireem."
"Small loss. What happened?"
Laura's mouth twitched. "They tried to eat our visitors. Miss Piggy made her opinions on the matter quite clear. I think I might have found competition for the airlock."
He was considering, and Laura had to admit that anyone who was up for airlocking Gage and Vireem had some redeeming qualities. As Lieutenant Hoshi had gleefully pointed out to her, the amount of oxygen lost in the airlocking process was a lot less oxygen wasted than when they were left alive. "Do you know where the pigs are from, Bill?" Laura asked.
"No. Where?"
"Earth."
"Earth?" His eyes widened. "But-"
"There are humans there, too," she said. "Apparently, talking pigs are something of an anomaly. Now put your pants on and take us home." She tossed them at him.
Bill swung his feet around and began to get out of bed. "Earth. We're really going to go."
"We are. Now get up, Admiral. It's time to face the music. It's time dress up right."
Bill sighed. "It's time to get things started on this battlestar tonight." He pulled on his uniform. "All right, Madame President, let's go home."
Author: lls_mutant
Fandoms: BSG/Pigs In Space
Rating: It's a crossover with felt. Do I REALLY need a rating?
Summary: The pigs were made from felt. They ate. They evolved. And they have a plan…. (Well, not really. But doesn't that sound good?)
Warnings: I apologize in advance. There's just so much about this that is wrong. But unless you had a childhood trauma relating to the Muppets, I seriously doubt there's anything triggering in here. Just… yeah.
"DRADIS contact! Admiral, I've got a ship coming in at seven three six."
Adama jerked to attention. "Cylon raider, Mr. Gaeta?"
"It… it doesn't appear so, sir." Gaeta rapidly typed something into the DRADIS console. "No."
"Mr. Hoshi." Adama spun around. "Are we making contact?"
"There's something coming, through, sir, but it's garbled. I'll try decoupling the frequencies, but it will take two minutes."
"Scramble the alert Vipers!" Adama ordered.
"Yes, sir," Lieutenant Dualla responded promptly.
Adama looked up at the DRADIS screen, and then over at Tigh. "What do you think, Colonel?"
"Another civilian ship from the Colonies?" Tigh said. "A Cylon ship we haven't seen yet? That's about all I can come up with, Bill, but this late in the game neither of those seem too likely."
"Sir," Hoshi interrupted, "I've got a signal."
"Already?"
"They must have done something to their own communications," Hoshi said.
"Put it on speaker," Adama ordered. The familiar sound of an open channel filled the CIC. "This is Admiral Adama, of the Battlestar Galactica. Who is this?"
The channel was scratchy with static, but the voice on the other end was smooth. "This is Captain Link Hogthrob, of the Swinetrek. I ask that you state your business."
"Sir," Hoshi interrupted again. "There's no Colonial code being transmitted."
"I'm getting a visual, sir," Gaeta said. "It doesn't… I don't know what they're burning in their engines, but every piece of data I'm receiving tells me there is no way this ship should have made it this deep into space."
Adama and Tigh exchanged glances. "Where are you from, Captain Hogthrob?" Adama demanded, noting as he said it that the man had a very unfortunate name.
"Earth."
Silence swept over the CIC. Stunned silence. Gaeta spoke first.
"That can't be right," he said, scrambling for his notes. "The Lions' Head was supposed to be a signpost. There are no class K stars around here with-"
Adama ignored him. "Who's flying CAP?" he demanded.
"Starbuck and Hot Dog, sir," Dee answered.
"Connect me." She did. "Starbuck. What do you see?"
"Where the frak do these guys come from, sir?" Starbuck demanded.
"Not a clue, but I think you and Hot Dog had better bring them in."
"Right. But sir?"
"Yes?"
"I've got a bad feeling about this."
Tigh snorted. "Don't we all."
Adama rolled his eyes. "Mr. Gaeta," he said, gesturing to Tigh to accompany him, "you have the deck." He and Tigh strode out of the CIC.
"You gonna call the President in on this?" Tigh asked him as they made their way down to the landing bay.
"Not until I know what the frak is going on," Adama growled. "I'm not bringing her over here into a potentially hostile situation."
"Might end up with Zarek in charge then," Tigh said, in what was meant to be agreement. They rounded the corridor and headed down the stairs to the landing bay.
The ship was just landing, flanked by the two Vipers. Neither Gaeta nor Starbuck had been lying about the ship's condition. It looked like it was cobbled together from tin cans. There were three thrusters in the back, and the entire ship bore an unfortunate resemblance to…
"Almost looks like a pig," Tigh muttered. "I gotta get used to this lack of depth perception."
"I don't think having two eyes would make it look any better." Adama gestured to the Marine contingent that was waiting, and they surrounded the ship, cocking their weapons. He took his place on the landing bay floor, facing the hatch, Tigh at his side. The hatch slid open with an odd bloop sort of sound.
Three pigs climbed off. Two of them had blond hair, one female, one male; the third had wispy white hair. And he wore glasses. They wore shiny uniforms, garishly made and crudely colored.
"Greetings," said the male pig with blond hair. "I am Captain Link Hogthrob."
Adama's eyes rolled up into the back of his head and his knees gave out. To everyone's shock, the Admiral of the Fleet fainted dead away at the sight of the talking pigs.
Tigh envied him intensely.
"Get a medic over here!" he yelled. He saw people running, and then turned back to the pig, who was regarding Adama with what must be a confused expression. "You're Captain Hogthrob."
"Of course." The pig looked at him with a who else? sort of expression. "Who are you?"
"I'm Colonel Tigh. I'm the XO of this ship."
"Well, this is First Mate Piggy," he gestured to the female pig, who tossed her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, "and Dr. Strangepork."
For the first time, Tigh wished Baltar was not in the hack, because introducing Baltar to a pig would be far too much fun. He became aware that something was expected of him. "You said you're from Earth."
"Mmm." The pig straightened himself up. Tigh realized that he only came up to his chest, and relaxed a little. "We are from Earth."
"I'm not a religious man," Tigh began, "but I'm pretty sure the Scrolls never made mention of the Thirteenth tribe being pigs."
He didn't dare to look around; they might be pigs, but Tigh wasn't going to bet his life on their intentions. And yet, he was beginning to hear the snickers from the other crew members in the bay.
Because, really. They were pigs.
"Oh, frak it," Tigh muttered. "I really need a drink."
***
"Pigs," Tyrol said. "Somebody is pulling a frakking joke on us. That's the only explanation for talking pigs that say they're from Earth."
"No," Lee said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not a joke. At least not the talking pigs part. There is no one who could pull this off."
"It's just not possible," Tyrol insisted.
"Well, go look at the frakking talking pigs that are in the landing bay and tell me that again!" Lee snapped. "Would you just get your crew together and check out their ship? That's an order!"
"Pigs," Tyrol repeated, but he was walking away to gather his people together. "We're really gonna talk to pigs."
Lee wished he could follow his father's example and faint dead away. He was beginning to wonder if the Admiral was faking it.
"Sir." A knuckledragger was edging closer cautiously, obviously the bearer of bad news.
Lee spun. "What now?"
"The deck chief of the Swinetrek wants to see you."
"They have a deck chief?"
The ensign standing in front of him shifted slightly. "Well, he didn't call himself that," he said nervously. "But I heard one of his crew call him 'Chief.'"
"Is he a pig?" Lee asked warily.
"No, sir."
"Oh, thank the Lords of Kobol."
"He's a frog."
Lee smacked his forehead.
***
"So, what make of a ship is this?" Captain Hogthrob asked Tigh as they walked through the halls of Galactica, flanked by Marines.
"It's a battlestar," Tigh groused. He didn't think he should be giving any more information than necessary, even to a pig wearing spandex. "You're really from Earth." He could not wrap his mind around that concept.
The female pig- simply called First Mate Piggy, Tigh hand been informed- was looking around interestedly. As she did, they passed a group of pilots, including Narcho and Helo, who were staring wordlessly. "Whoa, momma," she said in a low, gravelly voice. "Those are your pilots? Boy, have I been on the wrong ship."
"What?" Tigh said, simply because he couldn't believe she'd just said that.
The pig looked at him, widened her heavily-lashed eyes, and laughed. "Oh, ha ha ha, nothing. Just commenting on the… physical fitness of your fighter pilots. They seem… very defined."
"Really?" the white-haired pig asked. Tigh noticed he didn't pronounce his r's or his l's quite right, so the word sounded more like "Weawwy?" "He doesn’t look much like a dictionary to me."
Tigh ignored that; after all, after working with Baltar and his imaginary friend, a pig scientist making bad puns was actually an improvement. That thought was disturbing, but he continued through the corridor anyway. He led them into a conference room, where President Roslin was waiting with Tory Foster at her side.
"Where's the Admiral?" Roslin demanded immediately.
"You don't want to know," Tigh said.
"I must say, I don't think much of an Admiral that faints at the first sign of contact," Hogthrob said.
Tigh was going to answer, but Roslin beat him to it. "It's a medical condition," she snapped.
"Oh, really?" the white-haired pig said. "What does he have?"
"Trichinellosis," Roslin said with a completely straight face. Tigh had to struggle to keep his snicker down. The two male pigs didn't seem to take anything of it, but First Mate Piggy's eyes narrowed.
"What are you saying?" she said.
Roslin's eyes locked with Piggy's. "I'm saying that the Admiral has a medical condition, and that is more than you need to know. Now," she said, before Piggy could open her mouth to respond, "Colonel Tigh tells me that you are all from Earth."
"Yes," Hogthrob said. "I take it from your antiquated spacecraft and your confusion over basic celestial navigation that you are… shall we say, not from around here?"
Roslin glanced at Tigh. "Antiquated spacecraft?" she asked incredulously. "From what I understand…" she cut herself off and shook her head. "Never mind. Somehow, I think that might not be important. We are from the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."
"Never heard of them," the scientist pig said.
The President rubbed her forehead. "Is it just pigs on Earth?" she asked. "Or are there other sentient species as well?"
"Well, there's bears."
"Bears?"
"Bears. And dogs. And chickens and things."
"And things?" There was a slightly crazed look in Roslin's eyes.
"What are you implying?" Captain Hearthrob asked. "I assure you, Dr. Strangepork-" there was a snort from Tory's direction, but when Tigh looked she was managing to maintain a straight face. "Dr. Strangepork is an expert on alien life forms."
"I see," Roslin said. She folded her hands and leaned in, speaking as if she was addressing her question to a child. "And are there humans on Earth?"
"Humans? Of course! What do you think, lady, that the whole planet is populated by pigs?"
This time, the giggle from Tory was unmistakable. Tigh wanted to reprimand her, but he was afraid that if he met her eyes, he'd burst into hysterical laughter himself. The entire situation was too bizarre for words.
Roslin wasn't smiling. "And your crew?" she asked. "Do you have humans on your crew?"
"Are you insane?" Hogthrob demanded. "Let humans mess with the controls of a highly sophisticated, extremely complicated spacecraft?"
"Yeah, it's not like you ever remember what button to push," Tigh thought he heard Piggy mumble under her breath.
When Tigh dared to peek, he saw that Tory's shoulders were shaking, and Roslin was rubbing her forehead. "Are we close to Earth, then?" she asked.
"Hardly," Hogthrob said. "We're far out into deep space, light years from home."
"What brings you so far out here?"
"We've been pursued by the insidious Dearth Nadir."
Tigh stopped laughing. "Dearth Nadir?" he asked, wondering what sort of new threat they'd brought down on themselves now, as if Cylons, starvation, and Baltar hadn't all been enough.
"He's the evil scourge of the galaxy. A force to be feared. A-"
"What are his forces like?" Tigh interrupted. "What does he do?"
"He's terrible," Hogthrob said. "He closes his fist around the throat of freedom. He ravages the innocent. He crushes dreams and brings terror to all that he sees!"
Dr. Strangepork shuddered. "When he boarded the Swinetrek, he ordered his chicken stormtroopers to peck the crew to death."
Tigh and Tory both lost it.
"All right," Roslin said, raising her voice so she could be heard. "You two, out. I don't think I'm in any danger, and I can't conduct any sort of conversation with the two of you acting like five year olds. Get out."
Tigh managed to straighten his face long enough to say, "Yes, sir." He left the room, Tory on his heels. The hatch slammed shut behind them.
"Chicken stormtroopers," Tory sputtered, and they both dissolved into laughter again.
***
The rumors whipped around Galactica with the speed of the desert winds on Tauron. Pigs. On Galactica.
"Is it true, sir?" Vireem asked Lee, Gage standing beside him.
This was the last thing that Lee needed right now. "Yes, Specialist, it's true."
"Pigs."
"Mostly. Although their deck chief is a frog, and I've heard rumors of a gopher and a bear on the ship."
"But pigs."
"Get to the point, Specialist."
"Really, sir?" Vireem asked incredulously. Gage nodded enthusiastically. "Sir. They're pigs. Like, bacon pigs. Ham pigs. Pork pigs. We've been eating algae for the past few months PIGS."
"Wait. Wait," Lee held up a hand. "Talking pigs have boarded Galactica on a spaceship, and you are suggesting we eat them?"
"Sir," Gage said, "algae."
"Al-gae," Vireem emphasized. "Green, slimy, di-sgusting algae."
"I get it!" Lee shouted. "But they're sentient! They aren't pigs so much as they're… they're…" he struggled for a word. "They wear spandex!"
"Technically, sir, it's lamé," Gage said. "And the frog doesn't wear anything."
Lee hit his head against the wall.
***
On the hangar deck, and interested crowd had managed to gather, despite Tyrol's best intentions to drive them all away. But he couldn't deny his own intense curiosity as to who kept this collection of tin cans running.
The frog came out and offered Tyrol his hand. "I'm Kermit," he said, sounding like this was all completely reasonable. "This is my assistant Scooter, and this is Fozzie, one of our pilots."
"Hi-ya," the bear said.
"Nice to meet you," Tyrol said, because really, what the frak else could you say? The pilots who were ostensibly taking care of their birds were snickering. "So, you want to show me this ship?"
Kermit shrugged. "Sure. We can do that. You two stay here," he ordered Scooter and Fozzie.
Duct tape, Tyrol soon learned, was the force that held this ship together. Duct tape and a hell of a lot of luck, as Kermit used words like thingamjig and transiomaterial whosit.
"How the frak did you guys even break atmo?" he demanded.
Kermit shrugged. "Oh, you know. These things have a way of happening."
Well, it was talking pigs piloting the frakking thing. Tyrol shook his head. "Let's go make sure that the crew isn't tearing the place apart," he muttered.
"It could be chaos out there," Kermit agreed.
The first thing they heard was laughter. Not everyone laughing- just one person. "So," Fozzie was saying, "the two fish are in a tank, and one turns to the other and asks, 'do you know how to drive this thing?' Ahh? Ahhhh?"
Hot Dog was doubled over with laughter, but the other pilots were exchanging glances. "And then what happened?" Racetrack asked.
Fozzie looked at her. "What do you mean? That's the joke. Wakka wakka wakka!" He wiggled his ears.
Racetrack looked at Skulls. "That was worse than your jokes."
"Yeah," Skulls said. "I can bearly stand it."
"What? You don't like that one?" Fozzie asked. "Well, why did the man put a sweater on his hot dog?"
"Ooh, why?" Hot Dog asked eagerly.
"Because it was a chili dog. Ahhh? A chili dog?"
"Oh gods," Hot Dog gasped. "That's hysterical!"
"Oh gods," Skulls said. "There's nothing like a good joke."
"Yup," Racetrack agreed mournfully. "And this was nothing like it!"
Hot Dog recovered enough to speak. "You two just don't appreciate good comedy," he said, draping an arm around Fozzie's shoulders.
"Well, at least we don't sit on the TV and watch the couch," Skulls taunted.
"Come on," Hot Dog said haughtily, guiding Fozzie away from Racetrack and Skulls, "I want to hear more of your jokes."
"Sheesh," Kermit sighed to Tyrol. "Just what Fozzie needs. Encouragement."
"And just what Hot Dog needs," Tyrol agreed. "New material." He sighed. "Come on," he said. "I'll show you some of our engines." He sighed again. "Why do I get the feeling that you're the only one on that ship with sense?"
***
Hoshi stood at attention in the war room, trying not to stare at Gaeta and instead thinking of the Pegasus after the attacks. After all, it was almost impossible to smile with those memories at the forefront of his mind. Or so he thought.
"All right," Tigh said, approaching the table and looking as fearsome as he normally did, even though he was accompanied by two pigs. "We need to assess what sort of threat this Dearth Nadir poses to us. Captain Hogthrob and Dr. Strangepork will be assisting us."
Gaeta looked like he always did- interested and alert. "What sort of numbers are we talking about?" he asked.
"Dearth Nadir commands one ship, with an army of Stormtroopers," Hogthrob explained.
"I understand the troopers are chickens?" Gaeta asked, consulting his notes.
"Yes," Dr. Strangepork confirmed. Gaeta made a notation on his clipboard, but otherwise didn't react. Hoshi didn't understand how he could manage to keep his face so blank.
"What sort of arms do they employ?" he asked Hogthrob.
"Wings," Dr. Strangepork said.
Gaeta's eyebrows went up. "Excuse me?
"Chickens have wings, not arms," Dr. Strangepork explained as if Gaeta was a moron.
"I know that," Gaeta began, "but what does that- oh." He blinked. "I meant what kind of weaponry do they have?"
"Oh! It's very strong!" Dr. Strangepork informed them. "It would be our undoing!"
"Your undoing?" Gaeta asked, concerned. "What is your undoing?"
"The same thing an un always does, of course," Hogthrob said.
Hoshi had to fight to keep his snort down, and Gaeta closed his eyes. "One more time," he said slowly. "Can you give me details about the weapons? Are they nuclear? Or conventional? Or something like… I don't know… lasers or photon beams or whatever?"
"Oh. I see. Well, he has a kryptoanagon transmitter," Dr. Strangepork explained. "It can totally neutralize any blaster."
Tigh looked at Gaeta and Hoshi. "Either of you understand that?"
"I've never heard of it," Hoshi admitted.
"I know transmitters," Gaeta admitted, "but kryptoanagon? I've seen references to it, but…" He sighed and ran his hand through his curls. "I hate to say it, but maybe we should talk to Baltar."
"You'd trust that lunatic?" Tigh demanded.
"Not really, but he's still the brightest mind left in existence," Gaeta said. Hoshi winced. "Maybe we should take Dr. Strangepork down to meet him." There was a maniacal look in Gaeta's eye, and Tigh smirked.
"Why not?" he asked. "What's the worst can happen? Mr. Hoshi. Stay here and finish briefing Captain Hogthrob."
Hoshi watched them leave helplessly. He then cleared his throat and turned back to Hogthrob, who was watching him with interest.
"Very nice young man, there," Hogthrob commented.
Hoshi ignored that and pulled his own notes towards them. "Have you had experience with this kyrptoanagon transmitter?" he asked.
"Too bad he doesn't notice you."
Pigs commenting on his romantic life (or lack thereof) was over the line. Hoshi lost sight of any humor in the situation. "I would appreciate it if you would answer the question."
"The problem is your hair."
"I need to know- excuse me?" Hoshi's hand went unconsciously to his blunt hairline. "I hardly think-"
"I've gathered that," Hogthrob said. "Which is why you need advice. Take it from me." Hogthrob smoothed back his golden hair, which even Hoshi had to admit was better than his own. "A hairstyle like this will get you noticed."
"Be that as it may, I really need to know about- hey! What the frak! Get off me!" Hoshi batted at the pig that had attacked his head. For one terrifying moment, he thought that they had vastly underestimated these intruders, but then Hogthrob stepped back.
"There," he said smugly. "Much better."
Hoshi reached up and touched his hair again. He couldn't see it, but he could feel some sort of goo in it, and he was willing to bet every cubit he had that his hair looked like Hogthrob's.
The hatch to the war room opened, and Dee walked in. She stopped short as she saw Hoshi. "What-"
"Don't ask," he warned her angrily. "Let's just get to the bottom of this, shall we?"
Dee pressed her lips together and nodded, and Hoshi tried to ignore the fact that she was ready to laugh her ass off.
***
"I'm telling you," Gage said, tying the rope, "if this works, we'll finally be eating something besides slop."
"And did you hear?" Vireem asked. "Their enemies are chickens. Chickens. If we're really lucky, they'll attack, and not only will we have pork, but chicken, too. Gods, it's been ages since I've had chicken."
Tory shook her head. "Forget it," she said disgustedly. "The President would never sanction this."
"But they're pigs!" Vireem protested.
"Who talk. Have you been eating the bodies of the people who have died on the ships?" Tory snapped.
"That's disgusting!" Gage said.
"My point exactly. They may be pigs, but they're still sentient beings. And if you don't cease and desist right now, you're going to find that you two are the ones headed out the airlock, not the pigs. Got it?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Now get back to work." Tory stalked off, her heels clicking on the metal floor.
Gage shook his head. "Oh well," he told Vireem. "That means more meat for us. Come on. We still need a few more things."
***
In the mess hall, Kara Thrace was witnessing an amazing sight.
"Oh, this is good stuff," Miss Piggy was saying, shoveling into the algae. "You got any more?"
"Have mine," Kara said, pushing her bowl over. She watched in fascination as Miss Piggy finished the first bowl and moved on to the second. "You really like that stuff?"
"Normally, I make it a practice to stay away from anything green," Miss Piggy said, snout almost in the bowl. "Salad is what food eats. But this stuff…."
"Glad someone likes it," Kara said.
Miss Piggy cleaned the second bowl and pushed it away. "Now then, Miss Thrace, is it?"
"It's Starbuck," Kara said, "or Captain Thrace. Not Miss."
"Alright, Kara. What do you do on this ship?"
"I'm a Viper pilot. Squadron leader."
"Pilot?" Miss Piggy asked, perking up. "You mean co-pilot, right?"
"No," Kara scoffed. "Pilot."
"But… they let you?"
"Let me? They'd better frakking let me. I'm the best damn pilot in the Fleet. Why wouldn't they let me?"
"Work with the morons I work with and you'll understand why," Miss Piggy muttered. "I've been stuck in my job since the seventies, first mate to an idiot who thinks that misogyny is the winner of a beauty contest."
Kara blinked.
"Trust me, honey, you've got it good," Miss Piggy growled. Then she laughed. "Is there any more of that algae?"
***
"So," Kermit said, as he, Tyrol. Helo, and Sharon sat on the wing of a Raptor, "killer robots that look exactly like humans are after you?"
"Yup," Tyrol sighed.
"They look that much like humans?" Kermit said speculatively. Athena waved, and Kermit stared at her. "Wait, you're one of them?"
Athena sighed. "It's not easy being a machine."
"Oh. I see." Kermit seemed to accept this with minimal consternation. But then, Helo supposed someone who worked with the crew he did would be able to accept this concept.
"I know it sounds crazy…" Helo began.
"Not really," Kermit said. "I'm a frog in love with a pig. This is positively normal."
Helo nodded, and the only think he could think was that he hoped that Kermit was referring to Miss Piggy, because the idea of a frog going for Hogthrob or Dr. Strangpork was just too much to handle.
***
"All right, people," Tigh said, striding back to the CIC, Gaeta and Dr. Strangepork in tow. "Let's get on this, keep alert. Dr. Strange-" he cut off, staring. "Mr. Hoshi."
"Yes, sir?" Hoshi said through gritted teeth.
"What the frak happened to your-"
"I don't want to talk about it, sir."
Gaeta nearly crashed into Tigh. "Wow."
Tigh opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and turned to Dee. "Lieutenant Dualla. I need a closed channel to talk to the captains of the Demetrius and the Astral Queen. Lieutenant Gaeta, get calculating those jump coordinates. Now. And Mr. Hoshi, take the tactical."
"Yes, sir." Dee and Hoshi moved immediately to their stations, but although Gaeta had spoken, he was still standing where he'd stopped, staring at Hoshi.
"Mr. Gaeta!" Tigh snapped. "Let's get moving!"
Gaeta opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Hoshi turned. "DRADIS contact," he shouted. "I've got ships coming in."
"How many, Mr. Hoshi?"
"Just one, sir. An unidentified ship."
"Right. Mr. Gaeta, can you-"
"Colonel," Dee announced, "I'm picking up a signal, but the squawk's not Colonial."
"Cylon?"
"I don't think so, sir. When I say squawk…" Dee's lips twitched.
"I have no time for games, Lieutenant."
Dee flipped the signal onto the speaker, and the "squawk" filled the air.
"It's a frakking chicken!" Tigh shouted.
Dee buried her head in her arms, her shoulder shaking.
"Give me that!" someone on the other end said. "Greetings, extraterrestrial ones. I am Dearth Nadir."
"Dearth Nadir!" Captain Hogthrob and Dr. Strangepork gasped.
"I am in possession of a technology so great and terrible, that you can only imagine- what?" There was a clucking, and Dearth Nadir obviously took up a side conversation.. "No, they can imagine. No, it doesn't sound more threatening that way. How can it be more threatening if they can't imagine it? Well, whatever." Dearth cleared his throat. "I am in possession of a technology that is so great, so terrible you can't even begin to imagine the damage it could do to you, unless you have an excellent imagination. Is that better?" Dearth asked his consultant. "It sure doesn't sound as threatening, but if you say so…" the chicken squawked indignantly.
Tigh looked around the room, trying to make eye contact with someone and failing miserably. Dualla was still consumed by an attack of the giggles, and Gaeta was still staring at Hoshi like he'd never seen him before. Hoshi was deliberately no looking at anyone and staring at the DRADIS. And even the pigs were useless, clutching each other and trembling in fear over a chicken.
"Sir," one of the grunts said. "Should we have the Fleet jump and scramble the alert Vipers?"
"Right!" Relieved for once that the Cylons attacked so often anyone in this room could tell him what to do, Tigh snapped back into command. "Scramble the alert Vipers."
Hoshi snatched up the intercom. "Action stations, action stations. Set condition one throughout the ship."
Tigh redirected his attention to the open channel. "What do you want, Dearth Nadir?" he demanded.
"The Swinetrek is aboard your ship. I want the ship and its crew. In return, you can go about your way unharmed."
Tigh looked at Gaeta and shrugged. The obvious question was why shouldn't we do this? The last thing they needed was these pigs.
Although they did know where Earth was.
Tigh turned on Captain Hogthrob and Dr. Strangepork. "If we do this… if we save your asses… you take us to Earth."
"Take you to Earth?" Strangepork asked. "But that… that's…."
"That's easy!" Hogthrob said. "Well, in theory anyway. But defeating Dearth Nadir…"
"I'm not making any promises," Tigh said. "But if you promise to get us to Earth, we'll keep you protected from this Nadir."
Hogthrob extended his hand. "It's a deal."
Tigh took it. "All right. Let's blow this frakker out of the sky."
***
"When they come back," Gage whispered to Vireem. "There will be enough chaos that we can do this thing."
Vireem high-fived him. "Meat tonight!"
***
"This is Galactica," Gaeta said. "How are we doing out there?"
"I wish you could see this, Galactica," Starbuck said. "I've never seen anything like it."
"Let me guess. It looks like a giant chicken?"
"No. Like an egg."
"Well, which came first?" Fozzie asked.
"Whichever one is smoking the cigarette, Wakka."
"At least something is smoking, Hot Dog," Racetrack laughed, "because you sure aren't."
"Keep it sharp out there," Tigh reminded them. "It might be an egg, but it's armed."
"They're launching fighters," Apollo said. "Red squadron, come with me. Blue squadron- oh for the love of Zeus, they look like…"
"Do I even want to know?" Tigh asked.
"Chickens, right?" Dee asked.
"You got it. At least we have the answer to our question," Apollo said. "So now that we're not dwelling on that, let's get back on track, shall we? Narcho, Showboat, you and your groups follow me. Starbuck, you take your squadron around to three seven eight. Hot Dog and Wakka, you two prepare the secret weapon. I really, really can't believe we're doing this."
"I can't believe any of this," Kermit said, chiming in from the bridge of the Swinetrek, which was still in the Galactica's hangar bay. "We're being attacked by chickens. Sheesh."
"Engaging the enemy," Apollo announced.
"What are they firing?" Saul asked, cringing in anticipation.
"Don't know, but it looks like it does some damage. It's probably petrified seed, but it can rip a hole in a Viper, I'll bet."
"Is it strange that that comforts me, sir?" Hoshi asked Tigh.
"No, I feel the same way. Familiar ground."
"Hey Hot Dog," Fozzie asked. "I was walking into the flight room, when suddenly I hear…"
"Oh, good grief!" Kermit commented, just as Hot Dog gleefully said, "Good grief! The pilot's a bear!"
"No, he's a-not! He's a-wearing a neck-a-tie!" Fozzie said triumphantly.
"If someone shoots you down, I'm not to blame," Racetrack warned.
"If someone shoots them down, they'll be heroes," Skulls added.
"Would you people just focus on the chicken stormtroopers swarming out of the egg and shooting at us?" Starbuck demanded. "For frak's sake, this isn't a joke!"
"Neither was what Wakka said," Skulls said.
"Just fly, damn it!"
The still-open channel crackled to life, and Dearth Nadir's laugh echoed through the CIC. "So! I see that you will continue to defy me! This means war!"
"We already figured that out from the chicken fighters firing at our Vipers," Tigh informed Dearth Nadir.
"Oh. I think I was supposed to say that earlier, but I was busy. When you're on a ship with so many beautiful chickens, you do tend to get distracted." A chicken bawked. "Aw, Camilla, you know I have eyes only for you."
Tigh shut his remaining good eye for a long moment and then opened it again. "Enough with the soap opera, let's just get back to the space battle, all right? Wakka and Hot Dog. How's that secret weapon coming?"
"Piece of cake!" Fozzie exclaimed.
"Actually, it's a piece of pie," Hot Dog corrected.
"Galactica, once again I'd like to express my complete disbelief at this idea. And that we even found pie. Couldn't we have eaten it?" Apollo complained.
"It will work!" Dr. Strangepork insisted. "Dearth Nadir will never see it coming!"
"Where'd we even get pie from, anyway?" Narcho asked.
"It's twenty two divided by seven," Gaeta piped up. "Three point one four one five nine-"
"Enough!" Tigh shouted. "I don't like it any better than you all do, but that's what the Swinetrek had aboard! Now Hot Dog and Wakka, throw the damn pie, for frak's sake!"
"All right!" Hot Dog's voice was gleeful over the wireless. "Let's do this!"
Silence lingered momentarily in the CIC. Then…
"A hit!"
Dearth Nadir's voice came over the channel again. "No!!!!" he raged. "I'm melting! Melting!" A quick squabble of a chicken, or a pair of them. "Oh. We're not melting. But you haven't seen the last of me! I will be back! I will be-" the communication cut off.
"They're gone, sir," Apollo announced.
"Good. Let's get our birds home and get the frak out of here."
***
The CIC had exploded into cheers. Dearth Nadir might not have been the most fearsome enemy they ever faced, but any time all the pilots came back safe it was cause for celebration.
In the midst of the shouting, the hugging, and Tigh looking incredibly satisfied with himself, Gaeta made his way over to Hoshi. "I know this sounds crazy," he said, under the cover of the noise, "since the only thing the mess hall serves is algae. But after this shift… do you want to come with me to get dinner?"
Hoshi stared at him in utter amazement. Fortunately, Dee was near enough to kick him in the shin, and he managed to get his mouth working long enough to say, "Yeah. I'd like that a lot."
Gaeta smiled. "Great." His eyes raked over Hoshi one more time. "I'll see you then."
From a few feet away, Captain Hogthrob smirked at Hoshi. "It works every time."
Hoshi flushed.
***
"All right," Vireem whispered. "Here we go. When she gets away from the crowd…."
"It's bacon time," Gage agreed. They were in a storage locker, peeking out of a slightly cracked hatch, watching Miss Piggy talk to some of the officers. "You think Starbuck is going to step up and defend her?"
"We do this right, Starbuck won't even know we've got her," Vireem pointed out. The pilots were celebrating, and Miss Piggy was right in there with them, hugging Narcho and feeling up Helo. It was a testament to their growling stomachs that neither Vireem nor Gage could be bothered to make a joke about that.
"All right, all right… here she comes," Vireem said to Gage, whacking him on the arm.
"Ow!"
Miss Piggy had indeed peeled off from the group and was headed down the hall. "Now, don't you go anywhere," she was saying over her shoulder to Narcho. "I just want to slip into something a little more comfortable for vous." She laughed, a laugh that was supposed to be tinkling, but was nothing of the sort. "Holy momma," she muttered. "This is gonna be a good night."
"That it is, sweetcheeks," Vireem said, stepping out into the hall and grinning nastily. He slipped his arm around Miss Piggy's shoulders. "You've got a date with my friend and me, here."
"Oh?" Miss Piggy sized them both up and laughed. "I don't remember being asked," she said. "And surely, if you are gentlemen…."
"We ain't gentlemen, honey," Gage said. "It's gonna be you, me, Vireem, and a steak knife. An awfully big steak knife."
Miss Piggy pulled away from Vireem. "What are you implying?" she asked, and her voice wasn't so sweet anymore.
"Implying?" Vireem asked. "Hell, sweetheart, we aren't implying anything. We've been on this frakking ship for a long time with only algae to eat, and tonight, we've got us a hankering for some ham hocks."
"Well, you aren't getting them from me," Miss Piggy said.
"Who's gonna stop us?" Gage asked. "You? We're trained soldiers in the Colonial Fleet. You're a pig. A talking, walking, spaceship flying pig, yes, but you're still just walking bacon."
"All right! That's it!" Miss Piggy's eyes flared open. "Heeeee-YAH!"
Later, the fight was gleefully recounted by the pilots as one of the best fights in the history of the Galatica. Truthfully, it wasn't. Miss Piggy had Gage and Vireem on the floor begging for mercy in a matter of minutes, and her hair tossed over her shoulder as Narcho and Helo hog tied them for her only minutes later. (Narcho and Helo were both wise enough not to comment on "hog tying.") But then, perhaps that was exactly why it was one of the best fights in Galactica's history- how could Gage and Vireem being beaten up by a pig NOT be good?
"Seriously," Athena told Hoshi as Starbuck, Racetrack, and Gaeta congratulated Miss Piggy on her victory, "this day could not get any better."
"So say we all," Hoshi said, and the two of them high-fived.
***
The celebration had calmed and the Fleet had reassembled at the new coordinates when Laura made her way down to sickbay. "How is he?" she asked Cottle.
"Go in and see for yourself," Cottle said.
That confirmed everything she thought. Laura went into the cubicle where Bill was, supposedly deep in a coma. She stood over his inert form (notably not hooked to any life support), her arms crossed as she looked down at him.
He cracked one eye open. "Are they gone?"
"Nope."
"Then go away, woman. I'm in a coma."
"You've been in a coma long enough," Laura said, and pulled down the covers. "Get up."
"You don't just get up from a coma!"
"You're faking it! You might have really fainted, but you're not in a coma! You're talking to me, for frak's sake!"
Bill opened both eyes. "You're swearing."
"So I am. Now get up, Admiral. You've got a Fleet to lead."
He sighed and sat up. "A Fleet that now includes three pigs."
"And a frog, a gopher, and a hot shot bear pilot. Oh, and you're short two humans."
Bill cringed. "Who'd we lose?"
"Gage and Vireem."
"Small loss. What happened?"
Laura's mouth twitched. "They tried to eat our visitors. Miss Piggy made her opinions on the matter quite clear. I think I might have found competition for the airlock."
He was considering, and Laura had to admit that anyone who was up for airlocking Gage and Vireem had some redeeming qualities. As Lieutenant Hoshi had gleefully pointed out to her, the amount of oxygen lost in the airlocking process was a lot less oxygen wasted than when they were left alive. "Do you know where the pigs are from, Bill?" Laura asked.
"No. Where?"
"Earth."
"Earth?" His eyes widened. "But-"
"There are humans there, too," she said. "Apparently, talking pigs are something of an anomaly. Now put your pants on and take us home." She tossed them at him.
Bill swung his feet around and began to get out of bed. "Earth. We're really going to go."
"We are. Now get up, Admiral. It's time to face the music. It's time dress up right."
Bill sighed. "It's time to get things started on this battlestar tonight." He pulled on his uniform. "All right, Madame President, let's go home."