h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

*MacAlpine has washed Santos' tablets down with orange juice, and imagines they are doing him good*

*But that's no reason to let go of a perfectly good headache*

Lt Larrikin. I see no reason to be cheerful, but if you must be, can you do so quietly?

*Biermann rolls his eyes behind MacAlpine's back*

He thinks he's allergic to energy fields. You're in Engineering. Tell him that's nonsense...

*MacAlpine squawks indignantly*

*Santos calmly adds things to his list*

*Larrikin washes down a meatball with wine*

Hm, good vintage, I'd say about 6 months old, at least.

*He makes wide eyes at MacAlpine*

You allergic to energy fields, Mac? I'm not surprised, with your skin tone. Takes a lot of you northern types like that. Why, I had a friend from Salmagundi Rift, he was allergic to gravity fluctuations. Played merry hades with his career, you know.

*He twirls spahetti pensively - he can do this*

He found the Kegelmann exercises very useful, though. Helped him no end, they did.

He hardly needs that field meter anymore.

*He pops another mouthful of spaghetti into the relevant orifice*

*MacAlpine blinks, rather taken aback*

*He was under the impression that those exercises were only relevant to ladies. But then, he might be confusing matters. And as Information Officer, he cannot very well *ask*, but must be seen to know*

Ah, yes, the, er, Kegelmann exercises. Quite. But then...

*He sits up straight, Making An Effort*

I am sure that my career is in no danger. I am *quite* adept at letting these little maladies go unnoticed.

*Biermann is seriously considering chucking a breadroll at him, but he doesn't have one handy*

Hey, Larrikin - you know anything about impulse engines? Michi wants the Romulan one, but I'm not sure it would be compatible...

*Larrikin nods agreeably at MacAlpine, between bites*

I'm sure you are, mate. Although those exercises are pretty good.

*He wiggles his ears in thought at Biermann's question*

Compatible with what, may I ask? I mean, not with our kind of starship...you ain't plannin' to swap one out in the shuttle?

*Biermann realises that he's expecting others to follow his train of thought again - quite inconveniently, they rarely can*

Oh, no, sorry. Er, we're putting together a dream ship, right. Just as a model, but it has the advantage that it's not illegal...

*His hand hovers over the epads while he looks for the relevant one*

See, he wants to go for this little beauty. Nice cooler grille on that one.

http://www.webomator.com/grafx2/blog/conceptships.jpg

Of course, I told him to pick, hang on-

*He picks a second epad, and hands them both to Larrikin*

-this one, but he doesn't think it would handle well...

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_en3tE7aKwk8/StoDHeh2n2I/AAAAAAAABMg/RPJ2q7CTb-Y/s400/retro-spaceship-cartoon.jpg

Pity. It comes with such a nice crew...

*Santos frowns across the table at Biermann*

No. Dere weell be no crew. Just me.

*Larrikin wrinkles his forehead*

Well, if you aren't gonna have a crew, you'll *have* to use a second-rate ROmulan engine. I mean, where else are you gonna get the pwoer? You'd have to assume you got the batteries they're gigin' out to the Romulans.

*He grins*

Now, I know a sweet littel impulse engine, the Goldberg Sedgeway, that runs on next to nothin'. It'd take you about 15 minutes a day, one tom, to run it...

*he finished the Smith food - cherry - with gusto, and starts to peel and apple*

*Santos looks disgusted at the whole question of where the power comes from - the process is one he prefers not to think about*

Den eet weell be de Romulan.

*Biermann appropriates Santos' bowl of pudding - vanilla with some kind of fruit on top, but no Smith food - because it doesn't look like the pilot will be eating it anyway*

Batteries... Er, Larrikin, could it be that the Romulans are working on something?

*He lowers his voice, much to the annoyance of MacAlpine, who can no longer pretend to be disinterested and has to lean over*

Only... I was in Unterweltraumführerin von Forchtenstein's office the other day, and she showed me something she'd got from the Romulan fleet - it looked like our HDE identification training thingies.

*Since she didn't tell him to keep it a secret, he doesn't assume the information is classified*

*Larrikin looks interested*

They're always workin' on something, I guess. Batteries or no batteries, they've still got to avoid HDEs - particularly since they are more vulnerable to them, since they lack oru shielding.

They might be trying to set up a better classification system. We send 'em our data, but the Gaels write all sorts of stuff on there that they can't read. And they're too proud to ask.

*He gestures with the paring knife*

It always helps to know where the rocks are.

*Biermann is genuinely relieved, and much better able to enjoy his pudding. He'd been afraid they might make an attempt to involve him in something more sinister*

Yes, I'm sure you're right. They probably need a different system, since the risks are different. That must be it.

*MacAlpine, on the other hand, is disappointed*

A-ha!

*For a man with a terrible headache, he stabs the air rather forcefully with his forefinger*

That's just what they want you to think, I bet.

*Larrikin winks at Biermann, but answers MacAlpine*

You might be right, Mac. They're sneaky, those two sheilas. You'd better make sure you keep an eye on 'em.

*He stands up, stretches, and then picks up his tray*

Gentlemen, as they say on my planet, it's been real. Thanks for the company, and good luck to you with your dream model.

*With a friendly wave, Larrikin heads off in the direction of the put-up-your-trays slot, although he intends to keep the rest of the fruit*

*He's got plans for that fruit*

*Biermann waves back at Larrikin; MacAlpine gives him a restrained nod, and Santos mutters something*

*Because he doesn't want to get drawn into a discussion of Romulan conspiracy theories, Biermann generously gives MacAlpine one of the epads to work with - they're all open to different places on the same list, after all*

*Putting together theoretical spaceships is a lot more fun*

*Jamie Douglass closes an access panel with a sigh of satisfaction*

*The Mariposa is redocked at Genesis Stataion and things are more or less back to nromal*

*He picks up his tools and sets off down the corridor, singing to himself*

'If the world from you withhold or its silver and its gold...'

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lnQzeqMY3OU </>

*As he turns the corner, he almost runs into Lord Abergavenny, who gives him an odd look*

What is that you're singing?

*Jamie grins up at the tall Gheorgheni*

Just an auld song, sir - somebody was singing it recently, it stuck in my mind.

*Abergavenny grins back*

Interesting...

*He heads off in the direction of the shuttle bay (and exits to the station), calling back over his shoulder*

Be seeing you!

*Jamie stares after him, trying to remember something. Then he shrugs and heads back to the engine room*

'Leave it there, leave it there...'</>

*Jamie and Donald are sitting in the Arboretum after the usual 'surprise' rainstorm. Jamie muses*

Reminds me of Scotland, just for a few minutes.

*Donald nods sagely*

Ever been in Dumfries in a downpour?

*Jamie thinks*

I believe I have.

*They sing*

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pyZD7eoHZT8 </>

*Lt. Lens is at wits end with paperwork, bureaucracy and recertifications in his quarters*

*Jamison Douglass is stnading by a window on the Observation Deck, looking away from the planet Remulad - looking for a star*

*He's not sure which one it is, but he thinks he'll know it if he sees it*

'Second star to the right, and straight on till morning...'</>

*Jamie is armed - with a set of bagpipes - and therefore dangerous*

*He needed to play this, and it had to be now, somehow - and it seemed inappropriate in the warren or wendy house, so the Observation Deck it shall be*

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yG6cRWpYeT0 </>

Not wishing, Morgan...just...dreaming, maybe...</>

*Lt. Lens is waiting for the results of his space psychology relicensing test and other examinations to arrive. He feels tense about it*

Just staring at the computer isn't going to help.

*He puts a lampshade over the console monitor but forgot to turn the computer off*

"au nom de Dieu !" goes an electronic voice from its speaker.

"Sorry Nappy" Lens says a bit embarassedly before switching it off.

Why on earth (wait, not earth anymore, that's right) am I apologizing to the ship's virus?

*On a relatively rare day to herself, Kyra takes Frankie on a long walk through the wilderness of the planet, enjoying the slightly alien smell in the air and the unusually coloured sky*

*Lt. Lens is baffled to find his computer belching. Yes, actually sitting there making belching noises.*

*In the Communications Office, Liam and Rory are playing an interesting game*

*At least, it's interesting to them*

*They have a felt hat - we think it belongs to Ilya. The hat is upside down on the floor*

*For some reason, they are throwing playing cards into it*

*We gather it's a slow day*

*Rory tosses a card into the hat and yawns*

Liam, is there a human disease called calculoparacusia?

*Liam grunts, and throws a card into the hat*

Not that I know of. You mean somebody is hearin' noises comin' from their computer?

*Rory shrugs*

Lieutenant Lens is complaining about it. Now, Boney swears he is not doin' that, on the grounds that it is beneath his dignity to play 'idiot games' with 'loopy psychiatrists'.

*Another card is tossed into the hat, and Liam laughs*

So, if we believe a Goth virus, Lieutenant Lens could get a peer-reviewed article out of himself, as the first Starfleet officer to have a documented case of calculoparacusia?

*Rory nods as the last of 52 cards goes into the hat*

*He scratches his head*

Liam, are you sure this is supposed to be a fun game?

*Liam shrugs as he picks up the hat*

The ensigns said it was...do you think it's more fun if you miss, sometimes?

*Lt. Lens becomes distraught to find his computer hiccuping cartoonishly like a drunkard*

What in the devil did I do to it this time?</>