#define PARODY_BIT ON

(cue dramatic theme)

The Babylon project was created by a bunch of mind-wiped mental munchkins, under the impression that it would be possible to bring peace among the various races while spinning them helplessly in this giant intergalactic mix-master while orbiting a God-forsaken planet with all of the appeal of Bill Clinton in spandex. It failed.

Like duh!

Things were unusually quite on the bridge of the C&C. Lt. Corwin skipped by the shapely Russian, Susan Ivanova, and asked her if she was going to the talent show that night.

"Oh probably not. I don't get in to those corny shows. Hey, last time I had to put up with Sheridan telling knock-knock jokes and Kosh doing his ventriloquist act. That was enough for me".

"But tonight I understand that Garibaldi will reveal what his favorite thing in the universe is".

"Gee, I can hardly wait" she mumbled with all of the enthusiasm of Bob Dole on election morning.

The lively discussion was disrupted by a call from am incoming ship. "Babylon control this is Garbage Scow Hillary, asking permission for docking."

Ivanova replied in her square jawed best. "GS Hillary, you're cleared for docking bay 3." But then she noticed that the spacecraft was vearing off course. 

"GS Hillary, you're off target, turn to the right, to the right!"

" I'm sorry Babylon control, we seem to be rudderless at the moment. She only wants to turn left!"

Thinking quickly, Ivanova called Starfury squadron Alpha and commanded them to launch to help the Hillary.

The squad leader replied with a non-to patient tone in his voice. "Not now control, the Simpsons are on."

Ivanova, herself a big Simpson fan understood well enough. "OK, squadron Beta?"

"Not now control, we're in the middle of Cha-Cha lessons."

"Delta? You free?"

And so Ivanova went down the entire list of greek letters, and no one wanted to help the Hillary. If it wasn't dance lessons, it was someone's birthday party. If not that, a poetry reading, or a rousing game of zero-gravity twister. But the defiant Russian had known adversity before and she continued...

"(Yawn), how 'bout Training Squadron Omega".

"Nope. sorry..."

"Junior Assistant Apprentice Training Janitorial Squadron Lambda, ah. . . third class"

"Like Cool! I hear you dudette! " And in the background came the disturbing words "hey everyone, look at me! I'm a StarPilot, howdee howdee howdee!!"

In no time, the squad lurched out to meet the Hillary, but got lost in a cloud of suspicious looking shredded documents. Obviously they where dumping their cargo overboard in an effort to lighten her up. Then came millions of books marked "Health Reform Plan", followed by McDonalds hamburger wrappers.Unable to return to the station, the ship's commander arrived at a dramatic solution.

"Hey, we're going to have to land on that cool looking planet below, until we get things fixed."

"No Hillary!" Shouted the shapely Russian.

At that moment the fat and ugly little transport was briefly transformed into a dazzling spectacle looking much like a delicate dew covered cobweb catching the early morning sunlight while covering a rusting engine block of a '49 Studebaker.

"Wheeee!" said the ship!

"Wheeee" said Ivanova, while she made a second braid, a nervous habit of hers, giving her a pair of youthful pigtails.

"Oh, who cares, tomorrow we'll probably all die anyway. Those guys could've died with us 24 hours later after getting some clean underwear, but at least in their deaths, they provided a fine moment of entertainment. It was worth it. And now we know the Really Great Machine still works".

One of the hapless extras finally got a line to say after 1243 episodes. "Why so glum Commander?"

"Why so glum??" The shapely Russian latent telepath repeated for dramatic purpose as she braided a third pigtail. "Why so glum? I tell you why! Because, (the lights dim and are focused on her) because I understand that the Shadows are on the move (pause for gasp)

"On the move? How do you know that??"

Ivanova rolled here eyes, "I checked their web page, silly! It's at www.weregonnagetcha.com. Anyway, it said that they will be attacking tomorrow. That's why I'm so glum! Cuz Mr. Extra, whateveryournameis, we're gett'n clobbered in the morning!."

We're getting clobbered in the morning
Boom-boom the core is gonna shine!
Send out the Furies
Curse, them Centauries
But get me to the war on time!

We're getting clobbered in the morning
I've got 12 hours 'til I die!
Hope I don't faulter
Like lambs to the slaughter
But get me to the war on time!

If I am dressing then barge right in...
If I am sleeping then shoot me full of stims!

We're getting clobbered in the morning
Crunch crunch the hull is gonna breach!
Marcus come kiss me
Show how you'll miss me
But get me to the war on time

Gonna cause a riot!
Cannot deny it!
But get me to the war, get me to the war, for gaw-sake 
Get me to the war on time!