"Don't Push It, Gaius"
Written by Son of Atreus
A story of Baltar Bitchin', Caprica Cawin' and Racetrack Rockin'!
Cast of Characters: Doctor Gaius Baltar, Caprica, Margaret "Racetrack" Edmonson, Karl A. "Helo" Agathon.
At small table in the corner of the Rec Room Gaius Baltar, head tilted back and mouth wide open, sat. His legs were crossed and a ripe cigar balanced between two fingers.
"What is going on in that unique mind of yours, Gaius?" a beautiful, young woman with white curly hair and clothed in a red silken dress, asked.
"Roslin. President Roslin." Gaius replied, dryly, with not so much as a tilt of the head.
"I'm jealous" the woman joked, bending over on his shoulder and putting her lips near his ear "You can't go on obsessing like this, Gaius. What's she going to do? Space you for knowing a Cylon? You've worked together for months now… she knows you – trusts you."
Baltar harrumphed loudly and swung his head to meet the woman's gaze "I don't know if you've been as uncannily observant as I have, darling," he retorted, allowing the sarcasm to sink in before continuing "but the President doesn't exactly seem the type to be sympathetic to profane apostates –religious nut, she is– whom she suspects to be partly responsible for the genocide of her race! In her position, neither would I!"
"Oh! Don't be so melodramatic, Gaius! You and the whole fleet know full well she has no way to pin this on you. Her memories were nothing of the kind! Drug induced hallucinations would be closer to the truth!"
The woman shook her head at his puerile attitude, and then scanned the room. "Gaius," she said as she attempted to alert him of a woman staring at him from a nearby table.
"Yes, dear." mumbled the scientist.
"I think you have a friend…"
Gaius, in a fashion resembling that of a gorilla, lifted his head. His eyes widened in curiosity, then further in fright and he promptly sat upright, pretending to make calculations on the pad of paper in front of him.
"Racetrack?" Gaius breathed to Caprica, smiling as politely as he could to the young pilot on the opposite table. She seemed completely in awe with him, and it was at least five seconds before she smiled, what seemed like, a forced smile in response. "What about her?"
But before Caprica could reply, Racetrack had picked herself up and moved toward Baltar.
"Dear Gods!" Baltar cursed, discreetly shooing Caprica away and slipping the knife from the table into his back pocket. They'll be no murder attempts today!
Racetrack was an attractive, but impulsive woman. She had to be, she was competing with Starbuck and Kat! Then again, Baltar had always been attracted to strong women.
"Yo, Baltar" she called as she strutted over.
"Miss Edmonson" Baltar nodded awkwardly.
Frightened for his life, and rightly so, Baltar did as he was instructed, inelegantly pushing his chair to the side so as to provide a possible escape route.
"Wh-what do you want?"
There was a pause before her reply, "Your mother frakking arse out an airlock!" this was followed by Racetrack sending a volley of punches hurtling in Baltars' direction, which, by some divine luck, he managed to evade.
The attention of the whole Rec Room had now turned to this episode in the corner. Baltar put his hands up, attempting to subdue the raging woman, who was continuing to attack him. "Margaret, I assure you, whatever I did to offend you, I am deeply sorry!"
"Frakking traitor!" yelled Racetrack, as she picked up the table and sent it soaring in his direction. Baltar let out a little yelp as he hopped to avoid it. "You're the reason we're out here! You're the reason for all of this!" She removed a FN Five-seveN handgun from her waist belt and pointed it directly at Baltar's head.
"Gaius, Gaius, Gaius," smirked Caprica. The scene had seemed to freeze as she spoke, Racetrack was still, save her quivering lip and a teary eyes and the assembly of officers in Rec had frozen too, unsure what course of action to pursue. Caprica brought herself within hair's distance of Racetrack, then turned to Baltar, "Always getting yourself into-"
"Shut up!" Baltar growled.
"What?" Racetrack made an aggressive step forward and steadied her gun.
Thinking on his feet, Baltar continued, cautiously, "Shut up, Racetrack! You have no right to pin all this on me," at this point Baltar began wagging his finger in a very 'holier-than-thou' manner, making use of new found confidence, "It's not my fault the Colony's Defence Mainframe w-"
"Oh hell!" Racetrack locked the firearm into position and was just about to shoot when a large, firm hand pushed the gun out of Baltar's face.
"Alright, Racetrack, give it up," Helo scowled, wrenching the weapon from his friends grip. Helo gave her a 'Back off, or I'll pull rank on you' kind of look. Racetrack snarled at Baltar and kicked a chair over on her way out.
"That's right, darling!" Baltar called after her, tempting fate, "And… and don't try that again! Or you'll really get it! Ha!"
Helo's eyes narrowed, "Look Baltar, you ain't got any friends here. Just go back to your quarters, or your lab and don't push it!"