BSG - Act II

Act II, minus a couple scenes I'm not finished with.

Act II

PROLOGUE

Enter Chorus

Chorus
The two thieves from the Pegasus conspire,
And scheming sabotage in the air lies,
While strive Nine's repair crews, and nightmare thought
Reigns solely on the brow of every man:
They prepare Galactica now to host
The Council, and following the book on
Crisis response, maintain winged patrols,
Their Colonial Vipers throttled up,
Flying expectantly throughout the fleet,
Screening patterns from rear unto the point
With DRADIS inquiring, frowns and "check six,"
Emited by the squadrons in their ships.
The Cylons, captured cold by Adama,
Note this most unwelcome preparation,
Shake off their fears and with their patent ploys
Seek to divert the Colonial's aims.
O Galactica! Model of thy crew's
Inward greatness, like little body with
A mighty heart and a perfect mission,
What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do,
Were all thy crew loyal and honorable!

But see thy fault! Cylons hath in thee found
A nest of traitorous hearts, which they fill
With vain venom to aborne a vile plot.
For treacherous promise two corrupt men,
One called Knuckles and the second Screwball,
Have, for greed and lust,--O lust indeed!
Confirm'd conspiracy with fear'd Cylons,
And by their hands two battlestars may die.
If hell and treason hold their promises
They'll strike in Galactica's engine room,
The ship again made a museum piece.
Linger your patience on; and we'll digest
The abuse of distance; force a play:
The sum is promised and traitors agreed;
Galactica suspects not; and the scene
Is now transported, gentles, to the bridge;
There is your computer monitor now,
There must you sit: And thence to the far fleet
Shall we convey you safe and bring you back,
Charming the yawning spaces to give you
Gentle pass; for, if we may, we'll not offend
One stomach with our play. But, till arrives
The Cylon armada and not till then,
Unto the rag tag fleet do we shift our scene.

Exit

Ronald D. Moore
Strike the chorus and just lead with a replay of the last three seconds before the break.
Bradley Thompson
By your command.

SCENE I. CIC – Galactica. 9:30

Enter Dualla (Dee) and Gaeta, followed by
Apollo and Baltar from different directions.

Dee.
Be there any progress in post-mortem
Of this morn's breach of fleet security?
Gaeta.
Nay, in vain do I chase 'round for the lapse.
Baltar has already queried me much
On the circumstances of it, and soon
Comes Tigh, and the time for my confession.
Dee.
What shall be thy tale?
Gaeta.
As yet I lack an answer how Cylons
Came to fester inside our fleet's fair ship,
As worms emburrowed a-foot, unfelt till
Pained limp and oozed pustules mar the sole.
Dee.
Thou hast no clue, no hint of modus?
Gaeta.
For truth I noticed nothing, despite my
Responsibility for noticing all.
How cursed my DRADIS station be!
Dee.
Think you that they made use of stealth or spoof,
Or jammed our vigilant sensors, perhaps?
Gaeta.
On that I can't e'en venture half a guess.
Dee.
Apollo! How hail you, good commander?
Apollo.
I have most excellent slept, but woke
Into the like nightmare as did we all,
Save those standing watch, petty officer.
As to the Raptors, they were still as built,
Last registered with the Atlantia,
And no trickery was in them found when
Marines bravely retook them on the Nine.
One had a Cylon FTL installed
As small enhancement, but that was all. Nay,
My too cursory review hints tactics,
But not a method of accomplishment,
Absent that fact I may conjecture naught.
Gaeta.
Tis as he says, Dee. No clue of method
Yet conjured from our creased and furrowed brows,
Has solution shed on this perplexity.
Baltar.
My drifting thoughts return to one slim chanced
Possibility, though it stay but that
Till I achieve some further clarity
Divining what be real from foolishness
Conjured up from my worried suspicions,
For myself to satisfy my like mind
That by its nature flies away from it.
Apollo.
Do you speculate on a method or
Think you this incriminates a person?
Baltar.
Both, methinks, as a motived agent needs
A method and my suspected modus
Requires agents.
Apollo.
As I understand, you now speak of spies.
Gods in their mercy! What a tide of woes
Comes rushing on this lonesome fleet at once!
O, belike they had some clever new trick
That here was new-christen'd in the attempt.
But what be the method, Baltar? Tell me.
Baltar.
Yea, good sir, when I know; for I protest
As yet I do not: but, as I can learn,
I can perhaps whittle out frail truth from
The obscuring bark that now perplexes,
If we but keep our wits about our heads
And not bark aloud our obscuring fears.
But I am troubled here with it myself,
And am reluctant to confess my guess.
Apollo.
What dost thy gut instinct feel be the flaw?
Do confess it, so chances I may judge.
Hark now, in my sleep there haunts a worry
That features in each dream: Cylons aboard
Slaughtering all and winning the day by
Exploiting flaws we rashly overlooked.
So tell, and praised be thy brashness for it,
Our gnawing instincts sometimes serve us well
When deep thoughts white foam ride to land as driftwood
From which, perchance, we something useful make,
Or shun the new fangled thought entirely
As a waste of time, Tigh's most often and
Usual judgment rendered on freshest takes.
Still, the rare fortunate find should teach how
Serendipity be shaped in our minds,
Assembled from rough-hewn thoughts we too shy
Conceal while but a half-glimmered idea.
So whatever thy thought, withhold it not.

Enter Baltar's Six, visible only to Baltar

Baltar's Six
Gaius.
Use care when to Galactica you speak,
And inform them no further than you dare.
All hangs in balance, and it by a hair.
Baltar. (to Apollo)
Yes, well.
Baltar's Six
Mark me Gaius, there is danger a-fleet
That doth cling to those who seek its source,
A leper's pox of guilt and whoa for all.
You are God's chosen one, Gauis. Lose not
The mantled faith of holy destiny.
Baltar. (to Apollo)
Analysis that's objective weighs all
Without risk of panicked conclusions aimed
At naught except scapegoats and strummed falsehood.
Baltar's Six
I pray thou willst not rue thine arrogant
And proud rejection of my sage advice,
For I am looking after your interests,
Dear Gauis, No one else will do the same.
Adama hath already taken to
Himself the lion's share of credit for
The victory, all left are scraps of blame.
Baltar. (to Apollo)
So I endeavor toward clarity on
What next to do, aiming for logical
Conclusions flowing from patent facts.
Dee
Lo, Tigh returns now to interrogate,
I fear, or to still further stalk our posts
And hurl us questions we are lost to answer.
Apollo
Do not let him so worry you, my good Dee,
For you have duties both, he doing his
And thou thine, which thou hast commendable done.

Enter Colonel Tigh from opposite.

Dee. (whispered to Gaeta)
With flush of rage upon his aged cheeks:
O, full of angry business are his looks!
Gaeta, for lords' sake, speak comforting words.
Tigh.
Thank the Lords for Adama, who saved us,
But what a vile miscarriage of duty
To let the Cylons penetrate within.
Gaeta, officers all, how occurred this
Catastrophic thunderclap?
From where did they come and how did they breach?
How did we not see them sudden appear?
Answer me these things.
Gaeta.
Sir. I must beg forgiveness. Twas my fault
The extra Raptors slipped into our fleet
And seized our Cloud Nine. Twas my fault entire,
But I shall grieve you to report the rest.
For I saw them not, nor have I seen how
I saw them not, leaving us undone and
Me without the cause for our undoing.
Tigh.
Not talk of mysterious distractions
Nor vacuous answers satisfy me!
Our duty is the safety of the fleet
And there our failure is abjectly rank.
Apollo.
Pardon sirs, but a spent hour have I combed
Our logs for first glimpse of their appearance,
Which thinks Lieutenant Gaeta he o'erlooked.
It may be so; but yet my instinct feels
Perhaps it is otherwise: howe'er it be,
It cannot but be bad; so much bad
As, though on thinking on no plot or hinge,
Makes me with heavy wonder faint and cringe.
When these Raptors first appear stays mystery.
Aft' last engagement the fleet jumped away,
Civvies first and battlestars after, as
Always we perform the practiced tactic.
These Raptors were by then possibly here,
Undistinguished from fleet's common traffic.
Detecting Cylon interlopers in
Merest moments ranks impossible if
They be blended within our civic fleet.
Tigh.
So you hard press against my assumption
That through one-eyed fixity we fracked it,
A supposition I favor given
This crew's too frequent bouts of laxity?
Apollo.
Aye, but 'tis much worse than inattention
Which a few sleeps and coffee remedy,
For if Cylon ships foresaw where the last
Leap was bound before the jump was taken,
It portends most imminent disaster.
Tigh.
Think you they read our encrypted traffic?
Dee, check you the state of nav messages.
Did we skip their coding and transmit clear?
Dee.
Nay. Thrice have I checked per request of
Vice President Baltar. All was secure.
Tigh.
What say you, mister Vice President sir?
Think you our messages be compromised?
Baltar's Six
Keep watch o'er your words, Gaius. Trust him not,
Or in your back he'll stab a rusty shiv.
I warn thee, Gaius, in mine own knowledge,
Tigh's a most noted bully, a liar,
The owner of not one good quality
Worthy of your entertainment or trust.
Mark me, he will against you make a play
To thwart your proud ambitions. Guard them well.
Baltar.
Some, knowing but little, might that conclude,
But such would charge without valid warrant.
To math is pinned the power of our codes,
And it hath hard proof to withstand attack.
Not through long onerous difficulties,
But by brevity of the messages
Versus the enormity of the key,
Making all possible decrypts equal chanced.
Yet there be other means of compromise.
Tigh.
But what be such method, Baltar? Tell me.
Baltar.
If the Cylons read our mail it was by
Eyeball's access, not wireless sniffed aether.
Tigh.
Expand you on this occularity.
Though possessing eyes, I don't quite see it.
Baltar.
I meant as I plain spoke to any that
Can turns words into envisioned image.
Our codes remain secure while encrypted,
But the content is boldly displayed on
The FTL panel of every ship.
To follow our fleet's master jump command,
All the Cylons need have is an agent
Emplaced amongst a ship's dutied crew or
Looking over someone's offered shoulder.
Gaeta.
True and true, but I must remind that the
The right coordinates of a jump are
Displayed plain true only here, on this bridge,
All slave displays are obscurely scrambled.
Baltar.
Which is the very reason I think you
Innocent of mistake or miscarriage.
If our codes were by Cylons cracked we'd face
Now the full force and might of their dread fleet,
Just as we would if it were your station
Compromised or observed from some distance.
'Tis thus why methinks your o'er burdened eyes
Be the only pair above suspicion,
As were all the eyes aglance on this bridge.
Apollo.
I follow not your meaning.
Baltar.
Got these Raptors to our position here,
Er the civilian fleet had jumped itself.
This doth indicate to my puzzling mind
That knew they the jump to take without the
Knowledge of where it led, as if fed numbers
From one of our slaved FTL displays,
The which, by design for slaved combat jumps,
Present the numbers scrambled in a form
That is sensible but to like FTLs,
To prevent chance of an enemy fleet
Following along in hot pursuit anon.
Tigh.
You have reasoned well, our good Baltar,
They knew not where the jump command did lead,
Else they'd have jumped their Base Stars hot after.
Alack, Gaeta, then fault is none of yours;
Which you should for that bless Lords of Kobol.
But the gods, I think there's no scheme secure
Betwixt Cylon agents and their hackers.
If stayed tight did the signals and codes
That transmit from us to the civie ships
Then indeed this points sharp at spies abridge
Where the FTL codes be freely showed.
Good Gaeta, send an inquiry a-fleet,
Fetch us all logs, the day's duty rosters,
So that we may search for new-placed crewmen,
Fresh promoted to critical posts
Where ship's instruments are naked displayed.
If this trick worked today and not before,
Yet remain secure the fleet's message codes,
Then eavesdropper faces the instrument
On a panel where codes were stripped away.
Gaeta.
Aye sir, and thank you Sir, and sir I must
Apologize for the lack of warning
Of Cylon penetration of our fleet.
Tigh.
You were o'erwhelmed with contacts, lieutenant,
Worry not upon it further, but watch
In future for such well played trickery.
Our colonies have been captured complete,
Along with innocent seeming trim ships.
We've not prepared for such usurpations,
So look hard upon the DRADIS scope
Whereby a Colonial signature
May be forged cloak masking a Cylon ship,
Or plain ship hiding Cylons within.
Gaeta.
Aye sir, and hail to thee for thy patience.
Apollo.
Good mister Baltar, sir. Perhaps you might
Reboard our blighted ship and there inspect
Equipment carried by the Cylon team?
You are our Cylon expert, after all.
Baltar.
Well, I
Baltar's Six
Advantage you, dear Gauis. Take and hold.
Baltar.
Would be quite delighted to go inspect,
To ferret out what I may. I am off,
And gone to help the fray, as duty bids.

Exeunt all.

Bradley Thompson
I just don't think we need this scene. It eats up screen time
without really advancing the overall story. It doesn't really
Go anywhere.
David Weddle
However, it further develops the character of Colonel Tigh,
and establishes that the junior officers live in fear of his tirades.
There are some undercurrents we could use, like this text, for example:
"So you hard press against my assumption
That through one-eyed fixity we fracked it,
A supposition I favor given
This crew's too frequent bouts of laxity?"
My translation:
"You colon-corking turd, arguing now that
We didn't fuck up because of hard on
For Cylon kills. I recommend a suppository,
Because this crew is full of shit and needs a laxitive."
Bradley Thompson
No, looking at the underlying meta-narrative.
It basically says:
"I, Colonel Tigh, taken a dozen different ways, am an ass."
Ronald D. Moore
That's a bit too blunt, and do we really care how FTL codes work?
I agree with your first inclination. Strike the whole scene as a bunch
Of techno babble.

SCENE II. The Galactica Hangar Bay.

Enter Helo and Starbuck..

Helo.
How now, Captain Thrace! Come you from the bridge?
Starbuck.
I assure you Helo, there is very
Excellent news enlivening the bridge.
Helo.
Is Admiral Adama, the Council,
And the Cloud Nine safe?
Starbuck.
Admiral Adama, bless'd be his name,
Was magnificent in battle as Zeus;
A man I love and honour with my soul,
And my heart, and my duty, and my life,
And my living, and mine utmost power:
He is not, Lords be praised and blessed, any
Hurt in the battle; but wins back the Nine
Valiantly, with excellent discipline
And brilliant cunning, leaving the Cylons
Shame faced and floating naked in mid-air,
Facing his famous Viper's angry guns.
Never have I seen the like of it, and
None alive now sure never will again.
In all the ancient annals of bold strokes,
In the manuals discoursing profound
On the art of war, this morn's stroke will make
The very cover of the book.
Helo.
So the action be at an end?
Starbuck.
So it wouldst seem. The admiral captured
All the Cylons arrayed there in the dome,
And Knuckles and Screwball, high praises be,
Happened to be in the Nine's lower decks
When the Cylons arrived, and the good pair
Boldly apprehended the others therein.
Our rough and const Marines have rounded up
The assembled prisoners, so now all
That remains is evacuations and
Recriminations concerning the still
Crippled Cloud Nine.
Helo.
Must we abandon her?
Starbuck.
Aye. I'm almost certain of it. Baltar,
Chief Tyrol and our engine crew have flown
O'er to look and make repairs, if able.

Enter Apollo.

Helo.
Hail Apollo, and congratulations
On your father's stunning success.
Apollo.
Greetings good officers, how do you both?
My father is now enroute to arrive,
It will be his first trap since I was but
A wet, fledgling pilot.
Starbuck.
After his earlier display, I fear
Not for his safety. He could more than land,
I swear he could skillfully thread his ship
All the way to the bridge.
Apollo.
Yet I have logged more air miles underground
Than he has under dome.
Starbuck.
Is this to be a competition, now?
To see which be the best indoor pilot?
Apollo.
Very so, it would seem.
Helo.
Hark. Adama is on final approach.

Enter Viper with Adama at the stick as the deck crews
gather round. Adama lands, and is bodily carried from his cockpit
by a host of willing hands.

deck crew.
Adama. Adama. Adama!
Starbuck.
I must say truth, that was bold flying, sir.
Adm. Adama.
If I perchance still got paid for such acts,
I would today double it, yet mark me,
My performance consisted of but this:
Avoid bumping into anything, or
Putting a foul dent in my ship, and aim
In the direction, most generally,
Of helpless Cylons floating under glass.
The sortie demanded no more keen skill
Than a green and fledgling pilot doth show
Upon first wobbly and awe struck solo.
Starbuck. (handing the Commander a cigar)
Too modestly you claim not your bold feat.
You Spade are the very king of aces.
Adm. Adama.
Ne'er could I hope to wing our golden ace.
Starbuck.
You flatter me unjust, my commander.
So what news do you bring from the Nine, sir?
Adm. Adama.
Nothing but the rain, my noble Kara.
Yet yon ship still in gravest danger lies.
Her fate now rests with the ministrations
Of our always over burdened repair crews.
We race the Cylon base stars' promised
Arrival assuredly imminent,
They are hard put to the test.
Apollo.
Should I make ready to evacuate
Her passengers?
Cdr Adama.
At once, but in order of priority.
The Cylons boarded, and we know not yet
The look of all of them. They would not pass
This chance to plant more agents amongst us,
Making mischief and mayhem. Don't allow
Any off that ship without personage
Being thrice verified.
Apollo.
Aye Sir. And the prisoners?
Adm. Adama.
Bring unto us Leoben and Simon.
The rest are best left where they are,
Under guard and under lock.
Apollo.
Right as you left them, your bold stroke well done.
Adm. Adama.
I charged straight at their ambush, as promised,
Leaving them no time to react, a trick
That works when your enemies misjudge you
As over cautious. But enough of that.
Follow me for tactical discussions
Which proceed in haste. We face much planning
As a Cylon fleet may too soon arrive.

Exeunt Adama and Apollo.

Helo.
Again Hark thou. Here returns the first of our Raptors.

Enter Raptor, which lands and discharges Captain Taylor
and Marines, who exit and form ranks by the Raptor's door.

Taylor.
Captain, assemble here your ship's Marines
To receive Cylon prisoners forthwith.
Starbuck.
What is this? The very Cylons, who through
Subterfuge and pluck took over one ship,
Now delivered onto our own fair decks?
Verily we spread Cylons like a plague.
Taylor.
I gave thee an order, captain. Obey.
Starbuck.
Nay you did not. As I be a captain,
'Twas a request. Delivering Cylons
Direct to Galactica? You exceed
Their own best efforts.
Taylor.
Pipe thee down loud captain. We transfer them
To Pegasus for interrogation.
Starbuck.
Then you may keep them all in your care, save
For two that Adama wished to query.
Taylor.
They be my prisoners and my charges.
Starbuck.
I remind you that the number of them
You did capture stands at zero, whilst the
Number Galactica's brave commander
Took is pronounced as "all". Shall I bother
To waste twenty good steps to phone the bridge
And have him repeat the order for those
Whose ears are clogged full with wax?
Taylor.
That won't be necessary, captain, but
Am I free to take the rest?
Starbuck.
So it wouldst seem. These two can come with me,
If you are willing to spare some Marines.
Taylor.
Tis done and done. I'll now depart with my
Prizes, information from them to beat.
Starbuck.
Prizes? Dost thou think we sacked Ilium?
Plan you to frack them without offered bribes
Of precious sweets and stockings, I assume?
Taylor.
Stay thy jealous tongue, captain. These Cylons
Are my responsibility alone.
Starbuck.
So thou wouldst hope, if thou can only cope.
Taylor.
That be not your concern. Bring prisoners out!

Enter Simon and Leoben the hangar from the Raptor.

Simon.
Hail, brave Starbuck, I'm glad to find you well.
Starbuck.
Hello, Doctor - Simon.
Leoben.
And so we meet again. Lieutenant Thrace.
Starbuck.
I am made a captain now, Leoben.
Leoben.
I see your airlock drills hath paid off well.
Starbuck.
Know that? So you were indeed born again.
Taylor.
Capt, know thee these particular Cylons?
Consort with them, perhaps?
Starbuck.
Nay, with them I am much prior familiar.
Simon.
And we her, who hath earned our hard respect
Unlike officers of baser mettle
Having all huff and bark but little pluck.
Taylor.
Pipe thee down, robot drone.
Simon.
As knowledgeable of anatomy
As medical degrees can make a man,
I can assure that a robot I am not,
As could a grade school waif. It is ill luck
I'm made a ward to one keeper who would,
When I am hungry, provide oil for food.
Taylor.
Shut up you lying rust eaten Cylon,
You vile warmongering terrorist tool,
Before your circuit brain begs a ready
Bullet from my accomodating gun.
Simon.
Prithee, aren't we most a violent one.
I diagnose some unsolved anger issues
Be now plaguing my host.
Taylor.
Go frack a 'frigerator bolt head drone.
Simon.
Art thou the rudeliest clay brained scoundrel
That ever walked a deck, or the densest?
Being Cylon does not a robot make.
Starbuck.
As you announced, Captain Taylor, they be
Your charges, if canst with their spirit cope.
Taylor.
Oh frack you too, captain, or with you him.
Or is that how thee so well knowest them?
'Tis certain that with either thou wouldst a
Lovely couple make; a too soft pilot
And conveniently wooed appliances
Found a-bed when hungover you awake.
Bed you Cylons and Cylon lover be.
Starbuck.
Your pardon, but who for long months abused
And raped and held a Cylon pris'ner chained?
Did thou doest her, captain, and hath thee
Perchance fracked a girl without cinched iron cuffs?
Taylor.
Now that's guff enough from you Captain Thrace.
Your ship reaks of base robot rutting rats,
Like him there that crisps his loaf in a toaster.
Helo.
So help me, good Starbuck. I have killed one
Errant knave from Pegasus and espy
Me now another.
Starbuck.
Stay those body boxing hands, good Helo.
'Tis not the time to revisit the brig.
Taylor.
Revisit? Didst thou just come from thy love?
Did she coo at you or doth she but bleep?
Starbuck.
Helo. Stay.
Taylor.
Good boy, Helo. Dost thou be pet to all?
Is it but a knavish affectation,
Or the unfortunate side effect of
A contraceptive personality?
Nevermore need to primp and eyewink now
O! Rejoice you ship of Cylon lovers,
For I've returned you these, your dear sex toys!
Leoben.
You disrespect the lady and us all.
I do offend at the insinuation.
Starbuck.
'Tis my quarrel. You need not intervene,
Leoben. The man cares not on whom he
Shits as a pig o'er gorged on moldy corn.
Leoben.
His words share that wholesome consistency.
Taylor. (rasing his rifle butt to make a strike at Leoben)
I'll feed thee my words in thy teeth, Cylon.
Leoben.
Ah, there be the ticket. Brain the prisoner
Right before his high summoned audience
With the admiral of your entire fleet,
Done o'er the personal insults thou didst
Hurl at his female officer's honor.
As a purblind gel-brained human you lack
The vision to think five minutes ahead,
But I, I can perceive the near future
Flowing as a stream, and thereby predict
That on thee Adama will hose much piss,
To rebalance cosmic scales of cruelty,
As do unto others is God's command.
Taylor.
Shut your piping mouth, vile spawn of blender.
Did I ask to have my ears stuffed with your
Proclamatory prognostications
Or your platitudinous pieties?
Leoben.
Shock! The captain hath smarts enough to
Rate an edumicated throttle jock.
You prick artful a-dictionary words.
Taylor.
Imagine that. Humans have language skills
That misbegotten appliances lack.
Leoben.
Prithee, allow me to reparse my last.
You prick art full a dick. Shun airy words.
Pipe you insults and high fluting phrases
Aimed sharp at man, woman, and Cylon all,
When you possess not the faintest glimmer
Of what hath transpired betwixt us before.
For if you must know of our acquaintence,
Not a bed did our last precious hours pass,
But were in base and cruelest torture spent.
She beating me senseless till she spaced me
Out an airlock to end my breath.
Simon.
Lucky you, brother. Me she stabbed to death.
In bare fight Starbuck killed our blonde sister
With a tackle off a ledge, and when next
They fought, plucky Starbuck, while sore wounded,
Most fatal bashed our fair sister's skull in.
She is quite the efficient man killer,
And only fools would goad her into fight.
Starbuck.
Try you to win my favor now, Simon?
For you I have none, naught but a long scar.
Taylor.
As you now engage in lover's quarrel,
Or quarrelsome engagement over love,
I in my Raptor make another run.
With my Marines I go back to the Nine.
To see what other loves of yours I find.
Starbuck.
With all haste depart. Forbid that I delay
Your dangerous job as Cylon chaperone.

Exeunt Taylor, some Marines

Simon.
As I was saying, Starbuck, there is no
Need for us to quarrel over past acts
Done as duty and carried out as willed.
Starbuck.
You two seem not so quite psychotic now,
But you have a singleness of purpose
That compels you always to seek our death
Like venomed animals that can't but sting.
Such is what bid you be there on our Nine,
Readying to entomb yet more humans,
The tragic purpose for which you were bred.
Simon.
Calm down, young Starbuck. You but get your blood
Pressure up for no good purpose at all.
We have surrendered willingly, our scheme
Will play out or not regardless of us.
Starbuck.
The circumstances are tense, as always,
But you both enjoy to play a drama.
Commander Adama grants to you an
Audience aboard the Galactica.
Leoben.
Always the welcoming host. We could've
Repelled you on Cloud Nine, but that we thought
It not good to exploit schemes till full ripe:
Now we speak upon our cue, and our voice
Is our God's: Humans shall repent their ways,
See their weakness and admire our sufferance.
Bid Adama and Roslin to therefore
Consider our ransom; which must portion
To the power we represent; which in weight
To re-answer, this fleet would bow under.
To match our oncoming forces your fleet
Be too poor; for the soon effusion of
Your blood we can only offer our nod,
For things be what they must be.
Starbuck.
Of that we will see. Losing three full score
Of your hand picked and emplaced able best
To a single gray haired pilot be augury.
Mark me. I've flushed once your head, and stymied
By a stubborn clog, I'll flush yet again.
Shall I summon ahead for my plunger,
Or shall you walk right gentle to the brig?
Leoben.
I go willing, and we shall meet again.
Simon.
Goodbye, fair Starbuck. You once freed my soul
Of a pained body that plagued me o'er much.
Perhaps this day I repay the favor.

Exeuntsome Marines and the Cylons.

Helo.
I take it he still be quite cross with thee.
Starbuck.
It would seem, but pray he kills Taylor first.
Helo.
By the Lords of Kobol, what anchor-faced
Space lawyering knaves make rate in this fleet.
Starbuck.
Forsooth, what a pompous ass. Hades' CAG
Helo.
The only job he's fit is feeding maggots.
Starbuck.
Aye, were it only as wished, but in truth the
Boatman would deep six him in the river.
Helo.
Deep Styxed.
And hark to mark another Raptor now.

Enter Raptor, which discharges Knuckles, Screwball,
and a provacatively clad Six.

Starbuck.
My. My.
Upon my soul, I don't know whether their
Exploits be bravery or knavery.
Helo.
You must confess their good taste, and her like
Can put up quite a fight, as thou hast felt.
Starbuck.
I admit, though the ones I fought hard pressed
Were dressed not as tarts.
Knuckles.
Hail shipmates, you missed the action today.
While you were twiddling thumbs and cooling heals
We captured this nefarious prisoner,
Quite possibly the leader of the raid,
Given that 'twas her that did negotiate
Surrender terms with our President Roslin.
Guard her close I urge, for our bruises bear
Mute testament to her ferocity.
Starbuck.
Well, hail to heroes both! Indeed so,
Though thy bruises bear thine only muteness.
Did the blonde injure you in a fair fight,
Or did she strike your jaw for sharp trading?
Perhaps you banged your head carrying an
Overburdened fridge? Wisely I tell thee,
Quaff the ale first, 'tis much lighter after.
Screwball.
You dare insult us, ma'am, after such hard
And desperate struggle, with just we brave two
Defending thousands of people there held
Hostage on the Nine?
Starbuck.
I do dare it.
Knuckles.
Um, three. There were three of us, Screwball.
Screwball.
Oh, right. Poor Hotdog was knocked unconscious
During the most viscious of hard struggles.
Is there word of him? Has he a doctor?
We would very much like to see him hail.
Starbuck.
I've heard nigh a word of his condition.
.Screwball.
Well please tell us both the moment you hear.
We worry so. Responsible we feel.
Knuckles.
Yes. Well, if someone would but relieve us
Of this dangerous Cylon prisoner
We shall attend to our other duties,
Now delayed.
Helo.
As you wish. She may accompany me
To the brig anon. Meanwhile, these Marines
Will stand guard over her. They'll keep their eyes
Peeled and focused, of that I am quite sure.
Screwball.
No need to thank us for saving you all.

Exeunt Knuckles and Screwball

Starbuck.
None given, lucky black market dealing slackers.
Helo.
Hark yet once more. A Raptor now arrives.
It bears a part of the Council, methinks.
Starbuck.
Let us then depart, for these e'er busy
Arrivals remind me why I became
A Viper pilot instead of a blonde
Receptionist.
Helo.
Prefer you hard G's to idle gossip,
I warrant?
Starbuck.
Indeed.

Exeunt All.

SCENE III. A Meeting Room - Galactica.

Enter – The Council of Twelve, Tigh, and the press,
including D'Anna Biers, a Cylon agent posing as a reporter.

Tigh.
Pipe down and desquawk, pundits of the press.
journalists.
Peace, ho! let us hear him.
Tigh.
Sit. Be silent and aim at me your eyes;
Adama bravely retook the Cloud Nine.
There have we now our fleet's honour reprov'd,
And captured many Cylons packed inside.
But we know not the form of all Cylons,
So perchance still more of them hide within.
Their right nature disguised, waiting to work mischief.
Because of this, we cannot at once
Evacuate all off the stricken ship.
Ask unto me your most pressing questions.
D'anna.
Colonel Tigh, a rumor thick as dewy fog
Doth foretell of a Cylon armada
Near on the fleet for imminent attack.
What say you to the rightness of this tale?
Be it fair or foul? Are we yet prepared?
Tigh.
I speak not to disprove what you now say,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
A Cylon attack stands as imminent
Twenty-four hours of every bone weary day,
So it is that our tired fleet never sleeps.
So it is that our DRADIS ever sweeps,
Our duty an ever vigilant task.
Now is no different than the day before
Or the day ahead, except now the wait
Likely bears war fruit 'stead of sterile seeds.
The Cylons have made first move, yet we stay
Focused on threats of continual dread,
The death and destruction that dog our heels;
journalist 1.
Be it truth that Commander Adama
Led the bold attack to retake the Nine?
That you were left here on Galactica,
The entire fleet in your charge?
Tigh.
Nay. What you relate, 'tis but a half-formed tale.
Let me give flesh to insubstantial bones.
Commander Adama led no attack.
Truth stands as witness to what I now say.
Commander Adama was the attack,
Entire and complete. He as one took on,
Stood them down and captured bare the Cylons,
Therein geared for war and gathered for grief.
journalist 2.
Surely thou dost not this tale expect us
To swallow down, 'tis transparent 'tis meant
But to boost morale in this darkest hour.
Tigh.
Nay, muse not at me, my most worthy friends,
For I jest not. The Cylons had thickly
Assembled under the vast dome, and bid
Adama come lone and entreat with them.
They therefore, and with soundest of reasons,
Expected he come afoot to their camp.
But mark ye, the Cloud Nine has hatches vast,
Big enough to move mighty oaks within
Thus for to stately shade her fair gardens.
Through such a gaping maw flew our hero,
Commander Adama in his Viper,
As embattled ship's crew cut gravity,
And plunged their mighty ship down a fair space,
Sending bewildered Cylons drifting up,
Cheap and easy targets for Viper's guns.
They surrendered at once, and he bade them
Strip naked, the pilot once called Husker
Now husking the lot of them. So it was
That Nine was regained and passengers freed,
While now we labor energetically
To diagnose faults and effect repairs.
D'anna.
What is this you tell us? That Adama
Risked himself thus? Are we to believe it?
Tigh.
Will you be patient? Stay quiet a while.
I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it:
If you would like, we have the spectacle
On gun film and open channel audio.
Hark. Now arrives our President Roslin.
You should hear her tale as well.
journalist 3.
Madam President! Madam President!
Roslin.
Calm yourselves. I and the Council are safe.
These most heady events and these grave and
Extraordinary circumstances might
Fire your ink in more ordinary times
And turn this bold raid into front page news,
But no longer do they tease. Be not fond
To think that Cylons bear such dread might,
Our chests now be thaw'd from the true quality
With that which melteth peaceable fools;
The Cylons by Adama's hand are ours:
If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him,
I urge thee to pay like heed to us all,
For we are not the fawn eyed fleet that did
Leave fair Caprica so many months past,
Staring in slack jawed wonder at events.
We act quickly, and even now we fly
Verified passengers from the Cloud Nine
To other aiding ships thoughout the fleet.
Those with unproved personhood are flown here,
And o'er to yon Pegasus, where further
Inquiries, investigations, and tests
Shall be assuredly undertaken.
D'Anna.
Can you perchance confirm these tall stories
About Commander Adama's heroics?
Whether they carry truth in small kernels,
Or be but military spin and lies?
Roslin.
I may confirm that I was in debate
With Cylons who much sought to take us. Well
Were they there encounter'd, inky urchins;
Tis better show'd to you than said, and it
Was as said: Cylon flock assembled round the fountain,
Encircled there to preach with vengeance some
Exposition on their holy purpose,
Expecting to fence Adama with words.
Then came they to see there an iron man,
Clearing a rout of robots with his guns,
Turned from word to sword and debate to death.
That man sits warm within my hostage heart,
And ripens in the sunshine of my favour,
Would he abuse the countenance of his skill,
Alack, what mischiefs might he set abrooch
In shadow of such greatness!
Who hath not heard it spoken,
How deep I am within books of the gods?
To me the commander in his office
Speaks forth with the imagined voice of Zeus;
The very opener and intelligencer,
The husker who ended bold Cylon schemes.
journalist 2.
Madam President, a moment per please.
What is to become of the great Cloud Nine,
Our most welcoming ship that we adore?
Roslin.
Her fate rests in the hands of her brave crew
And the Colonial Fleet's hand picked men,
Working to untwist knotted sabotage.
I now turn the floor to our intrepid
Commander, returned and now here entranced.
journalists all at once.
Commander Adama! (unintelligble questions)
Cdr. Adama.
Hold your questions for another hour more.
Shaken as we are, caught so lax with care,
Find we a time for slackened pace to pant,
And breathe short-winded plans for new borne toils
To be commenced in a ship far afleet.
Ne'er more the bold entrance of this pilot,
Shall daub a ship with her inhabitant's blood;
Nor more shall war indoors threaten her fields,
Nor bruise her flowers with the hot exhaust
Of surging Viper: those opposed Cylons,
All of one nature, of one substance bred,
Floating like meteors of a troubled sky,
Did lately meet with an intestine shock
And the face of aerial butchery.
They are now stayed in well-beseeming ranks,
Marched all away and be no more a threat
Against acquaintance, shipmates and allies:
So calm yourselves. We work through this most tense
Situation, and speculations help none.
Evacuations now proceed apace,
And with the gods' blessings we shall repair
Her damaged drive to make her leap once more.
All preparations are made for set jumps
To further your ships from the Cylon fleet
Should it presently arrive. The Cloud Nine,
If able, will take an all-different course,
Lest it have a tracking device aboard.
Now I depart, to discuss in conference
These and other matters of crucial stake.
journalists all at once.
Commander Adama! (unintelligble questions)

Exeunt all.

SCENE IV. An office on Cloud Nine.

Zarek.
Play; I am bound to hear.
Marcus.
So art thee to cringe, when thou shalt hear.
Zarek.
What? At what foul act did we catch Roslin?
Marcus.
Our bug of her office implicated
Not Roslin, good Sir, but two others known
Us all too well, familiarity
Of which I am now hopelessly ashamed.
Our kindred spirits in illegality,
Doom'd now, is certain, to vent from airlock,
For on this day, caught fast in Cylon plots,
Their foul crimes exceed the worst acts of mine.
I beg you, these two should be burnt and purged.
Were I not forbid to disclose in part
The secrets of my schemes, I could a tale
Unfold whose lightest word would harrow up
Thy soul, freeze thy convict blood, make thine eyes,
Like stars, start from their spheres, and thy heart stop,
Thy combed locks to part and each wavy hair
To stand on end, like quills on toilet brush:
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!
If thou didst e'er thy reputation love—
Zarek.
O God!
Marcus.
Expose this foul and most unnatural
Perfidity!
Zarek.
Treason and plot?!
Marcus.
A plot most foul, as in the best it is;
But this most foul, strange and unnatural.
Zarek.
Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to warn the others, or 'vantage
From the ensuing scoundrel hatched chaos.
Marcus.
I find thee rapt; and duller shouldst thou be than a fat sheep
That gorges itself in ease in a luscious meadow, wouldst
Thou not stir in this. Now, Zarek, hear: 'Tis given out that,
Eavesdropping on Roslin's offices, a Cylon seduced
Two of Galactica's men; our men; So filling the whole
Length of our spy tape, that we have captured their scheme entire.
Thou hast been rankly abused: but know, thou noble convict,
The government that did sting away thy life, and the one
You hope to soon lead, now lies it in direst jeopardy,
Perhaps to fall to our own two traitors, our rotten seeds.
Zarek.
O my prophetic soul! My one future!
Was it that blonde Cylon woman we spied?
Marcus.
Ay, that promiscuous seductive beast,
With witchcraft of her hips, with traitorous gifts,--
O wicked hip and gifts, that have the power
So to seduce!—Bent by their shameful lust
The will of these most loyal-seeming thieves:
O Zarek, what a falling-off there was!
From me, whose love was of that dignity
That it went hand in hand even with vows
I made thee, and to plot against a wench
Whose gifts at leadership were much poorer
Than those of thine! Roslin must fall, but not
To Cylon hands, not through lustful treason.
But virtue, as it never will be moved,
though her lewdness pry it with promises,
So lust, though to a wholesome purpose link'd,
Will sate itself in Cylon bed, and sell
Us out as garbage.
Zarek.
O the Lords of Kobol! O frack! What else?
And shall I trouble to tell? O, fie! Know,
Know my heart; and you, my honour, do battle
With mine ambition, grow not frightened of
The coming choice, but bear it up stiffly.
I remember them well. Ay, the two poor
Pilots both, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. I recall them!
Yea, from the tables in my computers,
I'll wipe all incriminating records,
Purge them from my books, all notes, all debts past,
That prudent observation copied there;
And by wise caution all ties shall be kept
Within the volume of my brain, unmix'd
With printed matter: yes, by mighty Zeus!
O most pernicious schemes! O villains both,
Villains, horny, greedy, damned villain!
My ambitions,--demand I sell them out,
That I may smile, and inform, and be snitch;
At least I'm sure it may so go down if
This troubling matter is handled promptly.

Types commands at a terminal

So, you two treasonous knaves, there you are.
Now to my word; It is 'Frack you!' Praise me.'
I have seen to it.
Horace. (within)
Mr Zarek, Mr. Zarek,--
Zarek.
In here.
Horace. (within)
Hello, ho, ho, Mr. Zarek!
Zarek.
Hello, ho, ho, boy! come my fierce gun, come.
Enter HORACE
Marcus.
How is't, my noble companion?
Horace.
What news, Mr. Zarek?
Zarek.
O, things be just frackin' wonderful!
Horace.
How so my sir, tell it.
Zarek.
No; you'll reveal it.
Horace.
Not I, my lord, by the gods.
Marcus.
Nor would I let him, my lord.
Zarek.
How say you, then; would heart of man reveal it?
You'll be secret?
Horace.
Ay, by the gods, my lord.
Zarek.
There's ne'er been a worse pair of villains than
Our pair of thieving pilots now dwelling
In the fleet, flying from the Pegasus.
Knuckles and Screwball they are common called.
They have done us good service in days past,
But now play arrant and traitorous knaves.
I must rat them out and have done with them.
Horace.
You say but wild and whirling words, my lord.
Zarek.
I'm sorry they offend you, heartily;
Yes, 'faith heartily, but they doom us all,
Consorting with Cylons in a vile plot.
Horace.
There's no offence, my lord.
Marcus.
There was a hidden mic, good companion,
Planted secret in President's office,
That tells us this.
Horace.
Still, to turn them in to authorities?
Where is our honour?
Zarek.
Why, right; you are i' the right; but needs done.
And so, without more circumstance at all,
I hold it fit that we shake hands and part:
You, as your business and desire shall point;
For every man has business and desire,
Such as it is; and for mine own poor part,
Look you, I'll go set up their compromise.
Horace.
As you say, my lord.
Zarek.
Yes, by Athena, but there is, Horace,
And much offence too. Touching this tape here,
It is an honest recording, that let me tell you:
For your desire to know what is between us,
O'ermaster 't as you may. And now, good friends,
As you are friends, scholars and convicts,
Give me one poor request.
Horace.
What is't, my lord? we will.
Zarek.
Never make known what you may have o'erheard in here.
Horace & Marcus.
My lord, we will not.
Zarek.
Nay, but swear't.
Horace & Marcus.
We do swear.
Zarek.
Then let us from here depart. There is much
Work, and more thought, if we are to survive
This alarming plot, to warn the fleet and
Not get caught.

Exeunt all.

SCENE V. Commander Adama's Quarters - Galactica.

Enter Admiral Adama, President Roslin.

Cdr. Adama.
My good Madam President, let me give
Certain assurance that we're doing all
To save our crippled ship. But as I told
Colonel Tigh, the time now misordered doth,
In common sense, crowd us in monstrous haste
And hold our safety up. I sent your office
The detailed particulars of our grief,
The which hath been with scorn inflicted on us,
Whereon this vile Hydra of thrice damaged
FTL is born; whose dangerous injuries
May well be repair'd complete, with grant of
Our most just and right desires, and Cloud Nine
Of her lameness cured to slip gamely free.
Roslin.
Between the grace, the sanctities of lords,
And our dull workings, who shall believe it?
Thank you, commander. We are in your debt.
Both myself and the full dozen quorum:
But we, as our own colonies' counsels,
Do ourselves need--I will not say how soon—
Need be provided difficult answers
To particular questions concerning
Events that early morning's crisis made.
Though at present so secret and so close
You hold critical information, far
From open sounding and discovery,
My duty doth compel complete account
To be laid open bare before the press
And quick cut through to dissection of errs.
For when meteors as these rock the fleet,
The stamp of non-partisan inquiry
Oft placates the citizens and the press
If it shows from whence these sorrows flowed, to
Prevent the fester of conspiracy
Where trust is lost o'er unconsumate blames.
Adm. Adama.
A good suggestion, madam President.
On that most wise counsel I am agreed,
I pledge my support; and you know what risks
I bestrode to breed this moment's peace, but
As we are still far from resolution,
Much less absolution, for morning's deeds,
Methinks such plans be somewhat premature.
Roslin.
True and well reminded, good admiral.
Recrimination pales before resolve,
And popular considerations and
Triangulations are quite out of place
Till situation is more clarified.
Apologies and please forgive, for base
Electioneering dominates my thoughts
These days.
Adm. Adama.
In lacking offence, forgiveness lacks need.
You humble undervaluation make
If think yourself crass for politicking,
For rare are battles won without loss; and
Whose vantage inculcates accepted truth
Doth by definition the victor be.
Without the smile of polite opinion
Are battles lamented as foul mistakes
And all good soldiers derided as fools,
For 'tis the way of soldiering that men
Will lose combats and get cursed for the loss,
Yet absent some munificent voice, rare
Doth history credit their victories.
Forsooth, Were I to o'erwhelm all opposed
And lose no men withal, be it dismissed
As lucky blow or pointless attrition
Without supporting frames of politics.
Roslin.
You pay me good courtesy, admiral.
But I admonish, following your thoughts,
That your attack was neither lucky nor
Pointless, it was foolish, nay, quite reckless,
If not downright stupid. Prithee, listen.
If I have any grace or power to move you,
This friendly offered castigation take;
For if I be not one that truly loves you,
I would not fulminate or reprimand:
You err'd in arrogance and not in cunning,
I have no judgment of tactical pace,
You understand, but such a headstrong charge
Without so much as wingmen in support,
Directly risking our fleet's highest rank,
Why, all in all, it strikes me as absurd.
Adm. Adama.
'Twas a military decision,
Madam President.
Roslin.
So say you always, which takes measured gall.
Care you to explain why we bother to
Stable two ships of young Viper pilots,
Which you did restrain, if we fly them not,
Though they be fully trained and practiced withal?
Yea, this mission you flew yourself, despite
Possessing both authority and rank!
Adm. Adama.
My good madam President, sent I but
Our greenest cadet, his clumsy skills
Could've won this heady day with marvelous
Accomplishment and guaranteed success,
Were mere flying ability the test.
Roslin.
Then why fly you in place of said cadet,
If not to win glory by taking ships
From Cylon hands like candy from a babe?
Adm. Adama.
Because authority, though it err like others,
Hath yet a kind of innocence in itself,
That sends the ruse o' the top, straight to their bosom.
Sent I a squadron with Starbuck at point
The Cylons would prick alert to the threat,
Whilst a high praised and honoured admiral
They'd judge as above such insanity.
I play acted the role they expected,
And expectations met lowers pricked ears,
Hunched hackles, and soothes suspicious natures.
Roslin.
I understand, if by analogy:
A paranoid cringing politician
Doth protect his hide from all imagined
Assassins, though open he will lay him
Before a president, for simple fact
That high officed politicians ne'er act
With their own hands, howe'er bloody they be.
Adm. Adama.
Indeed, your understanding is exact.
Roslin.
Yet were politicians and diplomats
To take advantage of this negligence
Then fair diplomacy would end full stop,
And with it peaceably reached solutions.
Alas, being able does not mean should,
Nor will I tolerate command of one
Who would. Risk yourself not again like this.
As I am your commander and your chief,
Thou willst obey or search out other work.
Adm. Adama.
Lest I be too rash: You o'er protect me.
For taken in all, I am but a man,
The merest digit on your tally board,
Where to ne'er risk one will cost a thousand.
Despite your apt correction, I have seen,
When, after admonition out of fear
And love's fear delivered, regret hath wove
A rug of repentance at o'er binding
Men to promises of safe comportment.
Roslin.
The weaving done in the absence of one
Not safe comported, who ejected not,
Or needst reminding when thy cabin is
Adorned with tapestries of pained regrets?
Adm. Adama.
You speak of Zak, my eldest.
Roslin.
I do. Forgive if I o'erstep my bounds,
Adm. Adama.
There is no need. My grief I put behind.
Roslin.
Didst thou, didst thou truly now?
Adm. Adama.
Aye, put behind with all our resting dead.
Our Troys are razed, our Ithaca is burnt,
Penelope but ghostly memories:
We few but walk Odysseus's footsteps,
Our grief a haunting phantom trailing aft
This ragtag fleet's too mournful wake. Feel it.
See now: Our past is made, and all is done:
Roslin.
And now we run, and thou dost hide.
Adm. Adama.
I shant indulge in mine own grief when 'twas
My duty to protect all fathers from
Feeling the death of sons at Cylon hands.
My agony was long ago - so far.
There is no point in stirring it to wake.
So have this answer, if you must: 'Tis past,
Aye, or I would not risk my other son.
Roslin.
Thou dost dissemble thine affections well,
As doth a stoic father hides his heart
Behind a dutied mask. But mark, dost thou
Recall a lost blonde lieutenant whose
Shared bond of private grief like family made
Which caused this fleet a hostile planet search
Beyond all reason and propriety?
Adm. Adama.
I do recall it well, my President,
A search for Starbuck which I'd like repeat,
As quick recovery of downed pilots
Saves twenty years at raising replacements,
Wet nursing nuggets till they cut their teeth.
Roslin.
More dissembling. It doth not seem thee.
Adm. Adama.
Then ponder hard and further contemplate
The enigmatic miracles of fate:
Had we not lingered for our rescue flights
Brave Starbuck would have died alone in space;
Ne'er flying her Raider back to Caprica
To pluck Apollo's Arrow from its case,
The arrow that did point the way to Earth.
Without my stand we 'd lack that arrow now.
Perhaps 'twas fate that stiffened my resolve.
Roslin.
'Tis not the fates I doubt, but the passions
That spurred thee to this morning's act.
Art thou thinking clearly or has grief won?
Doth thy son's death still eat out your marrow?
Adm. Adama.
Perhaps my Zak was meant to war with words,
As did my father in a court of law,
But that was not Zak's fate: He augured in
While learning how to check a Viper's reins,
His plane the casket in which I placed him,
To end interred with military grace.
My boy was lost to me and so I cried,
Aye, but no more than fathers should lament
Their buried sons, expressing grief enough
In private to o'erflow a grave, so 'twas
With cloistered tears I turned the Styx to salt.
But cups o'er brimmed stain the table
So o'er dwelling in pain mars the soul,
How stand I then, when highest duty calls
And this museum'd hull rates as flagship
Of human's only fleet? Do I indulge
In past remorse to satisfy an itch,
Or lead this fleet with all celerity
Toward Earth, the pain lessening with distance
From planets we called home, where all lost loves
Remain unburied on the poisoned ground?
My personal loss is less than was dealt
To most sad souls of this survivors' fleet,
Hulls packed with widows, orphans and the like.
Faith, faith is all we have, as we are left
Behind to ponder meanings in these things.
But I am but a man of duty, so
I try to see a day ahead and not
O'er dwell on days behind. My pain counts not.
Roslin.
Thou'rt stubborn, I know, but pray answer me:
Why doth thou demean and risk thyself so?
Be there some dark spirit haunting your soul?
Hast thy life so little purpose that thou
Wouldst gamble it at dice with Cylon clones?
Dost thou possess a wish for glorious death
Instead of gentle slumber'd passing on?
Adm. Adama.
The quite opposite, madam President.
My body's flesh I value dear, and should
As baby production has dropped of late.
Yet life is momentary, transient
As candle flickered shadows in a tomb,
The briefest pause between 'fore and after.
Brave men pick where their shadow winks its last,
And I have purposed an end for my bones.
Knock there, and ask your ribs where they call home.
Mine speak forth, and cry out to be interred,
Be they fresh or dust, on the orb called Earth.
If humble seeming, this difficult goal
Is grand enough, if mine eye, mind, and heart
Can it achieve, and then my aging bones
Shall rest content with others of this fleet,
Years hence and stars away, from Cylons safe,
Within our cousins' tombs with care interred.
Ne'er will I have this fleet's lives end in space,
Drifting here e'er more, blackening the void.
Roslin.
Where stirred my temper; thy virtuous stand
Subdues it, leaving ribs to resonate
Heart's flutters, waning rage comingling with
Renewed respect at thy selfless purpose.
I hath misjudged thee, my good admiral,
And beg forgiveness for my pale mistake.
Adm. Adama.
I thank you, madam President, for your
Continued confidence in my honor,
If not always my judgement.
Roslin.
You have my confidence, good admiral.
I am proud to know you; reposing in
Your virtue, and relying that in great
And dangerous business you will not fail.
'Tis rare to see such resolution so
Devoted full to forthright purpose, where
Mine ears most oft ring with pale blandishment
From vested shills and their false-faced crooning,
When not the vicious partisan bickering
That has e'er plagued all Presidents to rule.
Yet I worry o'er much o'er these events.
Yes, I fear this day, fear it mightily
For what this morning's seizure doth portend.
Death dogged dreams, nightmare visions of doom,
Adm. Adama.
You've had a prophesy, a vision seen?
Roslin.
Perchance I have but glimpsed some something in
My twilight dreams, when eyes doth flicker still.
Disaster. All is but disaster.
Adm. Adama.
Praythee, speak more.
Roslin.
A demon device hid within the Nine;
A poisonous pit placed by Cylons unknown.
Perilous tendrils blister from the ship,
Afflicted spirits ride scythes of flame,
Malicious metal rips apart our fleet
Condemning souls and venting ships to space.
What's left are derelict abandoned hulks,
With dessicated bodies left adrift
As devils take the survivors prisoner.
Adm. Adama.
Hold now, thou hast foreseen this bitter end?
Roslin.
Nay, I think it be metaphorical.
They are but dreams, yet dreams hath meanings too,
If we can but conjure them from the froth
Of worried thoughts on unplayed acts to come.
Adm. Adama.
If Nine is primed to soon destroy our fleet
In such a hellish fashion I must now
Precautions make, wide scatter our ships,
Which are in tight formation current held.
Roslin.
Doth that be wise? Exposing ships like that?
Adm. Adama.
'Tis a military decision,
Madam President.
Roslin.
So it is. To your judgement I defer.

Exeunt all.

SCENE VI. A small maintenance room on Galactica.

Enter – Knuckles and Screwball.

Knuckles.
Ah, now here be a large enough hammer
To put a limp in a battlestar's hop,
I'll warrant.
Screwball.
Cudgel thy brains with it, for your dull ass
Will not rend the place with brutish beating;
And, when you are asked my question next, say,
"Oh, a quiet and sure method; so the
Sabotage we make will last till domsday."
Go, get thee a manual, and fetch me
A set of screwdrivers and end wrenches.
Knuckles.
Throw you not dishonor at me, my most
worthy friend. I possess a powerful fist,
Which is last that many a man hath seen.
If my neck risk the noose over this plot
Then I'll have full say. Come, what plan dost thou
Pursue instead of my straight-at-it scheme?
Screwball.
The most gorgeous Cylon, whose name I missed,
Whispered in mine ear her ardent desire.
Knuckles.
Said she my name, Prithee?
Screwball.
Ha. Thou wishest. Nay, she bade me to cross
Three wires and clip two legs of the mains
Through this device she did provide to me.
See, 'tis controlled by a remote, so soon
Before time comes to jump, we'll melt the drive
Copper into puddles 'fore the breakers
Have a chance to trip.
Knuckles.
Suggest you we now play snidget amp tramps?
No, Screwball, hear me. 'Tis a risky scheme.
Disable Galactica, and then to
Whistle over to yonder Pegasus
To do the same? Methinks our survival
In her plan is but a trifling option.
Screwball.
Your doubts cheer me not: waffling companion.
The deed is sold, we are committed to it.
And such is not often vouch'd while a plan
Is still but aborning. Time to back out
Is past, she'll rat us out and have our ass,
Instead of us hers, which does bear the point.
You'll not turn yellow on me now!
Knuckles.
I see which brain rules this iffy scheme,
Thou addled headstrong cock-led bitch-dazed dog.
Come, look you. There is a much simpler way.
Betray the Cylon witch. Aye, let's kill her.
Claim us that she attempted bold escape.
It matters little, for the fleet wastes not
Kindly love on Cylons, only bullets
And some precious air that blows out the trash.
The witch holds now no position whereby
She may dictate to us now, if we but
Shut her mouth for good. The rest know little.
Screwball.
Thou wouldst turn down all she offered? For what?
A hard bunk, bad meals, and a too short life
Flying those endless pointless intercepts?
'Tis given that we'd eat well best at home;
Gorging on meat richly sauced and spiced
And ceremoniously served on the bare
Bellies of naked Cylon maids.
Knuckles.
There the twisting worm writhes; we have no plan
To get us gone from here. We'll hear ourselves
Lament that our troubles were poorly spent
When Raiders ignorant of this crafty scheme
Come at us with weapons hot.
Screwball.
'Tis a flaw, I admit. But how dare you
Traffic with treason and affairs of death;
And suddenly, on edge of precipice
Fly back around, doubting all that we've bet,
Riddling me with your contrived arguments,
Accusing me of swooning to her spells
Falling prey to witch's charms?
Knuckles.
Focus your lust-addled mind on the flaw.
This plan, this scheme of hers is hers alone,
For our needs, it goes but only halfway.
She can't deliver on her promises.
Promise unkept, a promise broken be.
This mistress of your charms is the too close
Contriver of our harms. She sets us up.
Pray, betray the betrayer. How say you?
Screwball.
Whenever call'd to bear my part,
I full express the glory of mine art.
Enemies fear me, and others -
Knuckles.
Oh, do spare me another round of thy
Lunch room pontifications and postures.
We both know, do we not, That neither you
Nor me gives a farted fig for duty.
We skate by, doing the least for others
And the most for us. For the smallest risk
At richest reward we act, and act sole.
If the Cylons be willing to serve us
fresh ladies, peel us fruit and feed us steaks,
Then what care have they whether the blonde's plan
Worked out or not? We mouth some words at them
And demand fulfilment of their promise.
Our sabotage was discovered, say we.
And who are they to make disputatious
Argument as to the truth of it all?
Screwball.
But if we slay her, she'll carry the horror
Past her grave, as is so thickly rumoured,
And in our double-crossing we shall be more
Despised by their kind than Adama is.
Knuckles.
Send word from beyond the grave?
Screwball.
If it be true about their download and
Quite unnatural resurrection, then yes.
Knuckles.
Oh what a fix we're in. To stay safe here
We must kill the blonde and our young Hotdog.
Yet to flee we must fathom her plan for
Our escape, if such event be in it,
And follow through with all.
Screwball.
This is the very painting of your fear:
This is the spinning dagger which, you said,
Led you to doubt it. O, these flaws and starts,
Shame itself! Think a moment and you'll see.
We have but to openly stand aboard
On the Cloud Nine, sure to be abandoned
At the first sign of the Cylon's approach.
Knuckles.
How obvious! If jumping ship amount
To nothing more than quick change of ships
Then this deed is good as done.
Screwball.
Just in case, we should take the blonde with us,
To intercede upon our behalf.
Knuckles.
To warm us up as we wait on Cylon fleet arrival?
Screwball.
My thought exact.
Knuckles.
Would be safer to take poor Hotdog over, too.
Screwball.
So rig the engines, escort us the blonde
And poor unconscious Hotdog to the Nine
With claim she hath malady's antidote
Secretly hidden there, somewhere aboard.
We may have need to take the doctor, too.
In the interests of believability.
Knuckles.
How shall we secure a transport? All craft
Stay tied up with the present disaster.
Screwball.
Indeed, ferrying people from the Nine,
But all the return flights remain empty,
Praises be.
Knuckles.
Here is thy world-altering screwdriver.
Let's go about our dramatic work.
Screwball.
O happy screwdriver! Do me good service,
And guide me to many excellent screws.

Exeunt all.

SCENE VII. Meeting room - Galactica.

Enter Starbuck, Apollo,

Starbuck.
Could all men o'erwhelm as great Adama
Zeus would quake with jealousy, livid green
That any Colonial officer
Might drum Olympus for thunder;
Nothing but thunder! Merciful Kobol,
What a sharp and shocking jolt to stare up
A Viper's barrels, dreading sulphurous blasts
Primed to split thy spleen and make hoary spray.
That a soft human: but man, proud man,
Given a little brief authority,
Them ignorant of doom he'd just ensured,
His steely essence, like a serene god,
Played such fantastic tricks of flight and ruse
As would make Olympians weep; Lords who,
With our spleens, would all themselves feel mortal.
O! To be weapons free in a Viper!
Reeking havoc and shooting holes in drones.
O, full of flaming Raiders is my brain!
Apollo.
Carrying on still, Starbuck? Much as I
Admire my old man, he ne'er fired a shot.
Starbuck.
Confess to me my old CAG, do they still
Count as kills if no ammunition shrills?
Apollo.
No, and pipe thee down lest Kat call thee wired.
Starbuck.
If thou wishest me milder, thou wouldst make
Me false to my nature.
Apollo.
An altered nature would trouble me less.
Starbuck.
I rather play the officer I am.
Apollo.
Were thou instead the officer we wished
Thou wouldst spend far less time idling in hack.
Starbuck.
Such balances ne'er idling Vipers, and
Methinks idling officers you lack not.
Apollo.
Would that I could command a blend, 'stead of
Hyper miscreants and oxygen thieves.

Enter Admiral Adama, President Roslin, Roslin's aide.

Roslin.
Commander Adama.
Apollo.
Madam President.
Starbuck.
Admiral, Sir.
Adm. Adama.
Commander, brief us thy report on thine
Investigation, for her and mine own
Authoritative judgement of attack.
Apollo.
Because that now you urge me on to speak
To the matter; telling of our deductions,
'Tis in the manner in which they here flew
That gives insight to our exploited breach.
Colonel Tigh, our Vice President Baltar,
Lieutenant Gaeta, Petty Officer Dualla,
And myself have discoursed on the method
Of this mornings bold attack, finding that
Our signals have assay'd as unbreakable.
Were they cracked we'd now face an armada
'Stead of a piddling handful of Raptors.
Instead we suspect a leaked plain command
Allowed these few Raptors to ape the jump
And beat Galactica and DRADIS here.
Colonel Tigh is searching personnel sheets
Even now for likely suspects in this.
Roslin.
I do not follow you, young Commander.
Please explain how they could follow yet not.
Apollo.
Very well, honoured ma'am, listen and judge.
A critical jump signal hath two modes,
Plain and scrambled, though encrypted are both
When transmitted o'er wireless as we do.
The plain mode displays true destination
While scrambled mode doth bear confusing hash
That makes no sense but to Colonial ships.
Even if the code savvy Cylons broke all,
The messages could carry no more meaning
Than when a drunk slurs to his faithful horse
"Trot us homeward to stable, my good steed."
To all together different locations
Would the like same commands lead other beasts,
While horses, being dumb, withstand the most
Rigorous interrogations without
Risk of compromise from their confession.
So too are our FTL codes scrambled,
With the commands useful to like units
But as babbled gibberish to all else,
Just as like words lead to like routes to not
But horses raised in the like same stables.
This second layer of obscurity
Was emplaced against Cylon hacking skills,
So a battle fleet could jump safe away
Willst retaining their full coherency.
Roslin.
Prithee, speak more of this.
Apollo.
The scheme's only flaw, or so taught us in
Academy, is if Cylon patsy
Relays the digits shown in their cockpit
To an unscrupulous enemy (and
What enemy is not) if they had but
Installed the very like same FTLs.
Such would explain today's use of Raptors,
And such a thought points to Cylon agents,
On the bridge of one of our many ships
When last we jumped away and ended here.
Roslin.
So it points to Cylon nefarity
On one of our many ships, or on this,
If only we nail accusing finger.
Apollo.
This, our ship is cleared of suspicious blames.
As nav station's clear displayed position,
Shown to us here in clear and nowhere else,
Would serve full well as a complete decrypt
To the Cylon fleet, which would then be here
In full force and might. That has not happened,
And thus we do suspect all ships save this.
Roslin.
Very well and good, but what doth this mean?
Adm. Adama.
It means Leoben played us for time
As a minstrel strumming out a ballad,
For he knew not truly where he was
And could not thus predict an armada.
Roslin.
Why dost thou this conclude from such scant pearls?
Adm. Adama.
After slave jumps it takes time for starshots,
Sometimes hours, depending on equipment.
We update our fleet's positions right aft,
But the Cylons never took the Nine's bridge,
And thus never knew where they were sitting.
Thank you, Commander; we welcome this news.
Apollo.
Indeed. It seems we may fix Cloud Nine yet,
Leaving us the matter of the agent.
Roslin.
I comfort in their fallibility.
Be we rejoiced: The glass-domed beetle with
Her dappled parks hath rung life's dawning peal.
But ere the Nine doth fly next boisterous jump,
Now saved from Cylon summons, there be done
A deed of dreadful note, for we can't keep
Three score of Cylon agents under lock
Without undoing fleet's security.
In our caravan they will not travel,
Nor will I waste our air with granted raft.
Take that for what it leaves strung on a mast.
Adm. Adama.
I understand you fully, good madam.
Roslin.
One Cylon on a ship is serious.
Indeed, like as luck, it was how we lost
The Olympic Carrier months ago.
Apollo.
An intercept I wish not to repeat.
Starbuck.
Nor do I.
Adm. Adama.
So feel we all.
Roslin.
Indeed, 'tis an order that chills my bones.
I will not risk the death of some thousands
Chancing that not one of three score Cylons
Be capable of 'scape and sabotage.
Adm. Adama.
What recommend you now?
Apollo.
I recommend we send all able techs
Experienced with FTLs over,
Though I wish to withhold some for the beast,
As we've had bad experience with her,
Being in my judgement an overly
Complicated ship, needing much nursing.
Adm. Adama.
On that I am agreed, Galactica's
Spare snidget crew will have to do for now.
Roslin.
Snidget crew?
Adm. Adama.
Pardon, my patient ma'am, such naval slang.
I forget my company and manners.
A snidget is a snipe twidget, and a
Twidget is one who tweaks and fixes things.
Roslin.
Ah. Then by all means, send all your snidgets.
Just answer me as to which way they vote.
Starbuck.
Vote? Why, it be thickly rumoured that 'twas
Only last week they learned, how I can't say,
That our fair Colonies had been attacked.
Apollo.
Starbuck, watch your troubled tongue.
Roslin.
She needs no restraint, my good Commander,
Having summoned forth this tragic day's first
Presidential smile.
Adm. Adama.
As for now, we devote all resources
To bringing up the Cloud Nine's damaged drive.
Roslin.
May I suggest that my Vice President,
Brilliant Baltar, might be of good service
In that endeavor? Especially if
The ship be infected with Cylon pox.
And to speak most truly, I'd rather him
There than in our nimble decision chain.
I trust him not at all under pressure.
Though 'tis something felt more than reasoned out.
Adm. Adama.
A good suggestion, madam President.
On that most wise counsel I am agreed.
As for Baltar, he seems to calculate more than feel.
I'll send him word and arrange his transport,
To depart at once with high priority
Along with any equipment he needs,
To the Cloud Nine's down drive to diagnose
Any Cylon maladies found therein.

Enter Marine

Marine
Sir, admiral sir, a Captain Mayhill
From Cloud Nine hath arrived and waits outside.
He says you requested his audience, Sir.
Adm. Adama.
Send him in.
(to Roslin)
Let us hear his story and ask after
Particular points that may bear import.

Enter Captain Mayhill

Adm. Adama.
Hail captain, and we pray your ship will jump
Once more, if in Hephaestus' hands repairs
Proceed.
Mayhill – Captain of the Cloud Nine.
Greetings madam President, admiral.
Infinite thanks be given for my ship's
Recovery. Blest be the lords and yourself,
Who did slip within and foment such fright
By giving lightning answer to Cylon;
(I saw it all on our internal feed)
Why you'd think Zeus was hurling thunderbolts
By the shocked expressions on their faces!
Starbuck.
You watched it all unfold? Prithee, tell all.
Mayhill.
Oh yes, and what a sight to then behold!
Offending them with clever advantage
And set to unleash furious vengeance.
But in denying anger upper hand,
By letting bridled reason and judgement
Govern and o'errule natural fury,
There shot from tee a pefect masterstroke.
O, What a sublime comeuppance it was,
He in his Viper struck the Cylons dumb
While calmly forebearing striking at all!
He is Bill the Boss indeed!
Apollo (Aside to Roslin)
And so begins it all again.
Roslin. (Aside)
What?
Apollo (Aside)
These glowing cheers of the over impressed
That shower upon him adulations
And hale him up and down, all swearing
His flight be brilliantest ploy e'er conceived.
Adm. Adama.
Some say rash hastiness is foolishness,
Taken as is, as taken this should be.
Mayhill.
Well and all, 'tis a point they fairly have,
Yet from what I first thought timid response
Sprouted o'erbold strokes the like of which, why,
The like of which never have I seen and scarce
Imagined in my wildest drunken dreams.
Adm. Adama.
Still and all, cold sobriety is best,
For what now looks a bloodless victory will
Unfold as nothing but murder most cold
Before ship's bells have rung this dark day closed.
Should I aspire fully to all those acts
That make a soldier good, this be not one.
I captured more prisoners than shall keep,
Fair felling them not in righteous battle,
That honored act and end that honor keeps,
But in surrenders we shall disdain.
Most dangerous is that temptation that
Doth lead us to sin in keeping safety:
Ne'er did the Cylons, with all their outrage,
Wrath, plot, and nature, once stir my temper.
Yet my flight will soon bear a bloody stain
As duty vetoes honour and its claim,
Herding my foes like cattle to dispose
A-hatch to in silent space e'er repose.
As evil as I think these machines be,
Killing billions with unlamented ease,
Their forms shall haunt my all too sober dreams;
So I lack of celebratory cheer
And cling instead to harshest duties,
Marking on which, 'tis with surprise I find
You left your post whilst danger round it lies.
Mayhill.
I beg forgiveness for my trumpet mood,
My good admiral sir. I must confess,
Marines there wrung from me my solemn leave
By insistent petition, and at last
Unto their will I bowed in sad consent:
So now I find myself here, as to what
Business I do not know. You seek information?
Adm. Adama.
Indeed so, to query as to your ship,
The events of this morning, how Cylons
First appeared and announced themselves aboard,
And other matters of ship's seizure.
However, Apollo has raised to us
Another pressing issue of more weight.
Be there a chance that Cylons completed
A sequence of navigational shots,
Divining nearby stars to find our place?
Mayhill.
'Tis likely as not, given the chances
And such convenient opportunity.
My ship, like the multi-eyed beast Argus
Panoptus, hath a hundred ports that mount
A set of small optical telescopes -
For passengers' curious amusement.
With mirrors fully big as dinner plates
And given several light years, thereabouts,
To nearby star systems from hereabouts,
They could've plotted us within a space
About the size of Caprica's orbit,
By that I mean the yearlong pass round sun,
Not the low orbit round the planet there,
Or so would guess, were I a guessing man.
A poor fix, but fix enough to send scouts,
Or so I would claim, if pressed to answer.
Apollo.
'Twould explain why they didn't seize the bridge,
Where clear codes our fleet's location reveals,
As its taking would've lost us the ship
And fired us to sally out to battle
In our assault teams with fighter escorts,
Through which no stolen Raptor could break free
With vipers swarming round as thick as bees.
If needed they then to go back to base
To relay our coordinates to fleet,
Then buying time for star shots was their aim,
Along with keeping clear the space 'round Nine.
'Twould most likely be their best strategem.
Mayhill.
Ah, explains the day. I do have in me
A most odd request, madam president,
As long as I'm here meeting with you now,
The which I've needed to do for some weeks
Concerning a matter of importance.
Roslin.
Ask away, good captain, and we shall see.
Mayhill.
I need the fleet's supply of coconuts.
Roslin.
Coconuts, you said. Mine ears don't mislead?
Mayhill.
Indeed, yes, that be the name they go by.
Though I would settle for half, possibly.
'Tis a pressing matter, I can assure.
I have much to trade you for them, you see.
Roslin.
Why a twelve worlds do you ask after such?
Mayhill.
'Tis a tale best untold, but suffices
If I confess I have the formula,
Kept secret for near on a century!
For Pican Fizz: and it takes coconuts.
Apollo.
Pican Fizz?
Mayhill.
Indeed, the very same. Don't you be sick
Of slurping water 'stead of cooling Fizz?
I intend to construct a bottling shop
And sell it throughout the fleet, quenching thirst
And adding smiles, and a few cubits net
For risking much invested cash therein.
Roslin.
How didst thou get the formula to hand?
Adm. Adama.
Madam, we can spare not the time for this.
Roslin.
Nay, I'm bound to hear.
Mayhill.
I traded Cloud Nine for the formula.
Roslin
Pardon?
Mayhill.
The Cloud Nine. I sold her for Fizz patents.
Starbuck.
You own, and not just captain, the Cloud Nine?
Mayhill.
Indeed I do, did, till the Pican Fizz
Formula came upon the market, yes.
Bought the ship two-months ago in a deal
I shan't relate, for avoidance of shame
At basement price I pocketed her for.
'Twas legal and above board, I assure.
Then I turned around and sold her for more
Than I paid, realizing the errored sale.
The Fizz franchise outweighs one stuggling ship,
Luxuriously done up as she was,
Much less as she now is, halfway to wrecked.
Roslin.
Ships now be bought and sold under my nose?
This is news indeed in a fleet bereft.
How think you that a drink franchise outworths
Our fleet's fairest ship?
Mayhill.
The ship lacks a billable revenue streams,
My good madam President,
Whereas Fizz nets cubits at point of sale.
Prithee, let me pour you an ear of woes:
By accident most strange, tragic misfortune,
Or cursed luck, keen trial attorneys are
Aboard for a law convention, one which
Did draw the nadir of their profession;
A most judicious lot, whose influence
I courted not, and much to my chagrin.
No rent could I charge, nor could I evict!
Twice daily threats of litigation found
Me cravenly prostrated to their will,
Arguing contracts and obligations
Till litigious vertigo had me spent.
Mark me, lest you be tempted to invest;
I my incorporated stake did sell
As softest toilet paper's final pinch
Was wiped to clog a drain. Comes next the suits,
'Aft which they form abusive mobs and lynch
Whoever's scrawny neck best fits a noose.
Roslin.
I so disdain an attorney at law
Who doth abuse his learning, making for
Ungovernable vexed constituents
By temper tantrums and theatric tricks.
Now, prithee, who bought the ship?
Mayhill.
A person soon declaring bankruptcy.
Here cease more questions and give it to rest.
When our great enemy is gone, and we
Stand in our recovered strength, You shall sip
Pican Fizz and celebrate, and O, I'll
Buy this ship, or so my grandchildren will,
For service as a yacht, to mark past trials
And fondly remember when we were not
But pitiful, Fizzless waifs parched for drink.
Roslin.
We shall talk more anon, I am certain,
And I shall see about your coconuts,
As I have not cut a ribbon in months.
Such always plays well before the voters.
On just one thing need we agree for now.
Mayhill.
And what might that be, your graciousness?
Roslin.
Colonial One gets the first shipment made
Of light, refreshing Pican Fizz. By Zeus,
We could share the first glass to celebrate
The saving of your ship and business launched.
Mayhill.
That I must graciously decline, madam
For have I remained a lifelong drinker
Of not but Capricola, blessed it be.
My first impulse on learning Fizz survived
Was to finish the job that Cylons wrought,
But profit turns a man's head; seducing
His pallet when his empty wallet croaks
Of starving, thus soft'ning his enmity.
Roslin.
Then may we clink our opposed glasses.
Mayhill.
Ah so! As good as toasted be our pact.
In time 'twixt now and then I'll make more Fizz
(Which curls your toes when sipped most preciously.)
Twill be my treat. Now good admiral, sir,
I beg your leave to go back to the Nine;
From whence though willingly I abandoned
For prudence and to set good example,
Yet now, I must confess that duty done
My abandoned ship calls to me again.
And I ask your gracious leave and pardon.
Apollo.
I do beseech you, give him leave to go.
Adm. Adama.
Not yet, not yet. A few hours more till I
Grant leave to there return. Till then
Enjoy our hospitality and grace,
As further questions may answers bid.
Until such time as we are satisfied,
Use knowledge of your ship to advantage
As our crews try to fix the FTL.
Hithee and dismissed.
Mayhill.
Thank you, good admiral.

Exit Mayhill.

Adm. Adama.
If I failed to see why he lost his ship,
'Tis clear that greed hath Fizzed his brain.
Starbuck.
Had I thought, though I bothered not, I would
Have assumed Cylons the final victor
Of Soda Wars, yet the fight rages on.
Adm. Adama.
Were it the only war we have to fight.
Roslin.
Ne'er shall I trust a man who turns his back
On favor'd beverage to sup another.
Starbuck.
Aye. Will he subtly sabotage the old
Beloved formula or but piss in it?
Roslin.
It seems players are interchangeble,
As long as the two tastes remain unchanged,
But loyalty, traded cheap or dear, not
Be worth an ass-squeezed fig.
You mark my words, for they are backed with law:
I am disturbed that ships are bought and sold
In hidden deals and unregistered swaps,
Our luckless vessels traded 'tween pirates
Who gamble them away at dice o'er drinks.
Adm. Adama.
I likewise find it most disturbing. Do
You plan to remedy the matter?
Roslin.
Indeed. I'll have my staff look into it.
Forsooth, this will not do. Not do at all.

Exeunt all.

SCENE VIII. Tom Zarek's Council Office on Cloud Nine.

Enter Zarek and Horace.

Zarek
Where before I was certain of my course,
Now I am unsure. The path ahead shifts
With my frequent fluctuating desires.
'Tis mine ambition warring 'gainst my fears.
Horace
What mean you, m'lord? Do there be new doubts
Afflicting you about now exposing
The two lowly thieves that we once embraced?
Zarek
There do exist such doubts, I fear, and fear
To think much further. Two outcomes are clear,
As happy consequences to the plot.
Our two nefarious syndicate men,
Whom I would trust as I would adders fang'd,
They shall bear all responsibility
And blame; and if they be caught, 'tis certain
They will hang. If not, then they'll not be seen
Again, having fled with overbearing
Cylons to a fate most mysterious.
No implication could impart upon us,
Dearest fellow.
Horace
Nay, not a jot m'lord.
In this craftiness our hands are spotless.
Zarek
Aye, and the other truth spells a plain end
To our e'er opposed enemies, who block
The path to my profundity of change,
Freedom, and to fully equitable
Magnanimity amongst all men,
With Roslin, Adama, the Council full,
And even our two mighty battlestars,
All tossed off into Cylon perdition,
Letting me act of mine own volition.
Horace
'Tis what we've worked for long and hard, m'lord,
Aye, the stuff of a prisoner's bright dreams.
With battlestars lost in Cylon attack,
The Colonial squids will be netted
From our midst.
Zarek
As you say, things must quite soon sweep our way,
And call us to lead the fleet. Let it work;
For 'tis sport to see our oppressors hoist
Upon their own petards: Our once captors
Delivered into dread Cylon pincers
As eternal captives, prideful ne'er more.
And 't shall go hard on them, sold in bondage
By two of their very own kind, over
An idle kiss and a glance at a thigh.
There are politicians and officers
Who all plotted vain deceit against me,
But now I see one yard below their schemes,
And know the men who'll blow them to the moon:
O, 'tis most sweet, when in one hidden stroke
Two foolish prating knaves send all our best
(Or so themselves do claim) packing, and we
The only ones who know what's happening,
So retaining our wits to guide the fleet
Through the ensuing leadership crisis.
The greed driven sabotage makes for the
Masterly achievement of all our aims.
For quite some time we have worked toward rule,
And now it falls directly in our laps.
Horace
You are one surely worthy of such luck.
'Tis payback for all your long years of pain
And sufferance, imprisoned behind stone walls.
Zarek
Aye, in one fell swoop all my works are done.
Yet why do I yield to that suggestion,
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair
And make my racing heart knock at my ribs,
Against this horrible fate for the fleet?
My present worrisome fears are still less
Than worst imaginings: Our battlestars
Destroyed and our ships picked off one by one,
Each ringing with panic screams of children,
Men murdered or dragged away to slavery,
Damned to serve the machines till all used up,
Their palid bodies discarded onto
Ashheaps in a butcher shop of horrors.
My thought, which yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so mine o'er ambitious state of mind
That function is smother'd up in surmise,
And nothing is but what is not.
Horace
I too fear the completion of these acts.
To hold the fleet together without means
Of protection; 'tis a dangerous state,
And in it, we might fail.
Zarek
'Tis a risk, and risks not just our own fate,
But that of all we seek to lead. I see
Now how to undo the fleet's present aim,
But can think of nothing afterward save
To run, and keep on running.
Horace
Aye, 'twould be as leading an escape from
A leisure-filled prison on a harsh world
That offers no succor for escapees.
'Tis a rash and ill considered plan that
Delivers certain death instead of peace.
Zarek
And we have but only a little while
To decide, as time and the hour runs quick
Till the vile act is done and our course set.
It can't be ill, cannot be good: if ill,
Why hath it presented me earnest chanced
Success, commencing with this betrayal
And treachery, but ending in my rule?
But if good, why does the success of it
Hang over me like the angry black axe
Of heartless Cylon executioner?
Horace
We must act soon or do nothing, for in
Doing nothing, the hatched plot continues,
Sailing to world-altering conclusion,
Which may for us all spell life's bitter end.
Zarek
Through our discussions of this matter, one
Of us has convinced me, and so I act
To stop this plot before it unhatches,
After brief consideration of how
To go about it.
Horace
You speak of the downsides, the hazards of
Acting without all the consequences
Being foreseen?
Zarek
Indeed. The best plans have a cunning fill.
Quickly, know you of any public threat?
In burning these two, they may seek to burn
Me back.
Horace
Of exposures, I know of only two.
These scoundrels once performed delicate act
Silencing one who knew too much of us.
Zarek
You speak of a murder on Pegasus.
Horace
Aye. Twas those two that did the deed for us.
Slipping in to silence a prisoner
In the brig for racketeering and vice.
Zarek
Let me contemplate on it a moment.
Horace
As you wish.
Zarek
Nay, no threats lurk. That these two fracking thieves,
A pair of corrupt villains for certain,
Who were willing to murder one and all
Of Adama's men, would turn around and
Accuse me of asking them to kill mine
Own factor, another villain, and one
That Adama and Roslin would wish kilt
Regardless? True or not. Believed or not,
It just makes them resonate for the worse.
Nay, I see no repercussions in it.
Horace
And the bug in Roslin's Council office,
Upon the Cloud Nine?
Zarek
'Tis only politics. Quite hardball played,
For certain, but 'tis nothing reaching near
The stakes of such desperate play as now.
Besides, if Roslin had bugged her own good
Office, she would already know of the
Unfolding plot, would she not? I did her
And the fleet a service by keeping watch
On the fair blonde Cylon's machinations.
Horace
That be weak. It's a spin they shall not buy
Once things return to calm.
Zarek
For this cause, for a while we must neglect
Our other purposes and interests,
My good aide. But we will come forth with speed
To stop this plot aborning, far more can
Always be said than out of survival
Need be uttered. Very well. I shall fib
In answer to hard pressed questions. We shall
Suggest an ear hard-pressed against her door,
Or midget hiding in her closet there.
Little doth it matter how we o'erheard,
Just that we have, and in doing saved all.
Didst thee remove the bug from her office?
Horace
Aye, once Adama arrived and no one
Was near.
Zarek
Then they cannot prove otherwise, so I'm
In the clear. Prepare my shuttle. I fly
To Galactica. Time to clip these two
Traitorous buds, and in doing, perhaps
Our greatness can be sanctified and e'en
Multiplied by some staged heroics.
Horace
At once, m'lord.

Exeunt all.

SCENE IX. Meeting room - Galactica.

Enter Admiral Adama, President Roslin, Apollo,
and Tory Foster – Roslin's campaign advisor.

Roslin.
Hail admiral. I believe you know
Miss Tory Foster, my advisor now
That Billy's gone.
Adm. Adama.
We have but brief met.
Tory Foster.
I'm honored so to meet you, admiral.
Apollo.
Condolences on losing Billy, ma'am.
He gave his life, at such young age, for mine,
A trade I can't repay, as bravely done
As any loss in combat that I've seen.
Roslin.
Thank you, commander. Billy lost his life
In circumstances better overlooked.
If rumors are believed, but to business:
Of your investigations, admiral,
Know we yet where their spy doth lurk?
Adm. Adama.
Not yet, to my increased frustration, but
Galactica is my favored bet,
Despite contrary theories voiced before.
Leoben knew this morn, when he taunted me
To hasten to the Nine, that I carried
Paired pistols, the which I brought on a snap
Decision made here on this ship, yet knew
He this before he caught clear sight of me.
Roslin.
You say?
Adm. Adama.
We have aboard a Cylon spy I fear.
Apollo.
Begging your pardon, sir, but Dee mentioned
The pistols' presence over wireless clear,
Where everyone within the fleet could hear.
Adm. Adama.
Ah. Perhaps I have grown too paranoid,
Whereby, in seeking to side step all snares
And daggers, I keep my attention fixed
On common threats, conferring upon them
Stronger merits than honestly deserved,
Like drunken green cadets mistiming swells,
I would but walk straight into a bulkhead,
And with legs unburthen'd drag my limp stubs
Toward the infirmary, yet another
Fool victim of o'er suspicious caution.
Roslin.
Too suspicious? Of Cylons? There's not such.
They infiltrate and cogitate how best
To instigate demise and certain doom.
Mark me, the Cloud Nine is no martial prize,
A too soft luxury ship full of naught
But lounges, bars, grass (and a new Fizz plant).
Perhaps it were the easiest mark to take,
But Nine can't be their intended target.
Apollo.
Begging your pardon, Madam President,
But a civvy ship be just metal plate.
'Twas our civic leaders they sought to strike.
Our elected representatives killed
Portends chaotic rule or tyranny.
There'd be naught standing between us and hell.
Adm. Adama.
Excepting our common nature and sense.
Have faith that my men, in executing
The duties of their higher offices,
Do but keep evener tempered than that.
Apollo.
I know them all, and do allow them well,
And swear here, by the honour of my blood,
Your purposes have been before mistook,
When some about you have too lavishly
Wrested your meaning and authority.
Adm. Adama.
Pardon me now, for it is Tigh's judgement
You poke and jog with your veiled assertion.
This not the time be to again revis't
Past decisions and necessary acts
Taken in earlier situations
For the protection of this ship and fleet.
Apollo.
I merely do remind that absent thee,
Guarantee of good governance was void.
The needs of this, our warship, outweighed all.
Adm. Adama.
My son, I know your heart on these matters,
But those griefs were with greatest speed redress'd;
Upon my soul, their like shall not repeat.
Of all the bounds, crossing thin lines and thick,
With shadowed precedents but good intent,
Tigh ne'er enriched our powers, but merely
Gave exercise of our authority.
If it please you, discharge yours with restraint,
And we ours: and here between the parties
Let's drink together friendly and embrace,
That all our hearts may bear those tokens home
Of our still restored peace and amity.
Roslin.
Thank you, Apollo, for heartfelt concerns,
Which we all share; but easy we digress
And set to fighting now amongst ourselves.
We must abort this quarrel: Refocus!
For target plot is not our government,
O'er which they waste no care, but our own selves:
They seek to harvest us as mates, as mares
And men to stand at stud. While held hostage
Aboard the Nine I discoursed with Cylons
At quite some length upon this very point,
Which they believe is one of god's commands,
A purpose carved upon their minds as stone.
Although by their o'er arrogant boasting
Of certaintied success they talked o'ermuch,
Revealing it as reason for their grab:
Despite the fact they were this morn undone.
As they miscarried planned attack, they shall
Aborne a second attempt, then a third,
And so success of persistence be born.
Our false-fleshed heirs of Cylon husbandry
Be formed if we do naught but idle here,
While Colonials shall not last one more
Short generation if we now fall down
Without stopping them cold in these attempts.
Adm. Adama.
There is great import in what you relate,
Yet I am troubled that after seizing
Complete control of Cloud Nine's FTL
They did not jump it away to elsewhere,
Denying us our chance at overthrow.
They had forsooth a little more in store.
Apollo.
Verily. They sought to take you prisoner:
You who command our military ships.
From this I gather that they seek to split
Our battlestars from their protective role.
Adm. Adama.
A good surmise, but how? By what method?
Apollo.
When last aboard they went to aft control
To vent the ship and us to empty space.
Roslin.
Nay, I discoursed with one of them at length.
They seek to take humans alive and well.
Apollo.
That they cannot do 'gainst a battlestar,
As we shall fully fight to our death, or
Jump clear to fight another blood soaked day.
Adm. Adama.
There it sits, hov'ring right before our eyes,
In basic move revealed, their modus shown.
If we cannot jump, we cannot run, and they can
Swarm us with o'erwhelming numbers for mate
By checks compelling a stand on their terms,
Aft' which the choice is surrender or death.
They now target our drives. That be the thought
That animates this raid. Distract us while
Reducing battlestars' jump drives to scrap
With some shrouded scheme of sabotage.
Roslin.
You speak of subterfuge.
Adm. Adama. (picking up phone)
I do indeed. Dee, ring me drive control.
(pause)
Hail. This is Admiral Adama here.
To whom do I speak? You sound familiar.
(pause)
Well greetings both of you, 'tis good to hear.
I would have thought a doctor's care you'd seek,
With ale as chaser, after besting blondes.
Screwball. (filtered)
I have some bruises on me, and they ache
When brutal witch's fist is remember'd,
Though sore hurt limbs ache less than injured pride.
Adm. Adama.
Too modest are you; But prithee, tell me,
Has anyone suspicious been there seen?
Concerns have struck o'er drive's security.
(pause)
'Tis well and good. You shall double the guard.
(pause)
So such an action has been carried out?
You did anticipate my worries well.
Very good, and carry on lieutenants both.
(hangs up)
Apollo.
Already taken care of?
Adm. Adama.
So he did say. 'Twas one of our men who
Were held pris'ner this morning on the Nine,
And who captured several Cylons therein;
Already worried over a repeat
Of like same scheme, they have inspected our
Own drive's security and warned its crew.
Roslin.
Aboard the Nine? I know the men you mean.
They and the still slumbering pilot did
Serve as mine escort and personal guard
While I was held imprisoned over yon.
Adm. Adama.
Aye, those be the same, now guarding our drive.
Tis good to have such alert men
Among a crew.

Enter Colonel Tigh.

Apollo.
Colonel.
Adm. Adama.
Hello good Saul. Make thee progress as yet?
Tigh.
Aye, though denied a Cylon neck to wring.
When sense grows scarce as coconuts in space
We are all made a laughing stock at war.
An idiot reporter broadcast all
From open bridge as firsthand live report,
The signal sent to Cylons, fleet, and Zeus!
May these vain images, which are our bane,
Never run more! when news and updates shall
In the field prove blabberers, let reports
Be all composed of false-faced deceiving!
Adm. Adama.
What mean you, my XO?
Tigh.
I speak to how the jump was aped - the leak.
While fought we last to save our fragile fleet
The network news broadcast a cockpit view!
What use be codes with breaches such as this?
We might as well let Cylons fly our ships!
Roslin.
A live report from a bridge, showing all?
No journalist would air such foolish frames.
'Tis sure to be found but mistaken glitch.
Tigh.
'Twas godforsaken glitch, if glitch it be.
Tory Foster.
Praytell, who was this person?
Tigh.
Remember you that blonde reporter girl,
The one who filmed that seedy exposé
On our good ship and crew some months ago?
Tory Foster.
Nay, not her. Why -
Roslin.
D'Anna Biers, as I recall her name.
Tigh.
Aye, that be the same.
Tory Foster.
D'Anna was herself the fatal leak?
O, we shall rue this day, my President!
Shall rue it all the way to polling booth.
Roslin.
Why so, my trusted aide?
Tory Foster.
Alas, 'twas I permitted her to film
Dramatic scenes in imperiled cockpits.
'Tis lapse which Zarek will harvest like hay.
Shall I control the fallout with some calls?
Adm. Adama.
Nay, hook the phone: Remains this classified.
Tigh.
Oh by the everfracking gods.
Adm. Adama.
Stay calm, Saul. 'Tis the day's best news, and 'tis
But due to this strange report I'm hopeful.
If network feed did cause this morning's breach
Then 'tis we who slipped on security,
Not Cylons o'er skilled at nefarity,
Which leaves in our hands the leak's remedy.
Now so, why say you coconuts be scare?
Tigh.
Your pardon, sir? You ask?
Adm. Adama.
Of coconuts. You said 'twere scarce.
Tigh.
Aye. Can't be bought for gold or thigh. All gone.
Some fool hath offered thousand cubits per
The one and still his money stays unclaimed.
Adm. Adama.
I see. I thank you Saul.
Tory Foster.
Again, I cannot apologize enough.
Tigh.
You can rue your mistake behind wire mesh
Like one that wears her charms as manacles,
For I shall jail you duly: by your actions
You have condemned our largest civil ship.
Adm. Adama.
'Tis at ourselves that we should be incensed
As ones that bring down our own hurtful fate
Through lapses that our flawed procedures made.
We failed to exercise control o'er our
Emitted signals, thus these dire results.
Now let's get back to Miss D'Anna Biers.
Hath she been seized as a spy and questioned?
Tigh.
Not yet my Adm'ral, sir. Marines dispatched
Have yet to catch her scent aboard a ship.
Adm. Adama.
Continue searching, good Colonel.
Tigh.
The laxness at this on mine own head rests
At taking ages to sum two and two;
So focused I was on discovering
A surreptitious signal from a spy
That I neglected to check morning news.
Adm. Adama.
Saul, worry upon her no more I say,
And purge your breathe of malice when she's found.
Roslin.
Not watching news be political sin,
Adjudging by the voters' punishments.
'Tis said, "Know ye less than Peter Picon
And him you'll join in unemployment line."
So warn good pundits and advisors all.
Now Tory, why didst thou approve this film,
To inculcate a patriotic mood?
Tory Foster.
Aye, madam President.
Tigh.
O Gods of Kobol, damn it all to hell!
What worthless council that turned out to be!
Tory Foster.
Or not to be, granted swift recovery.
The populace is fired beyond my hopes,
On threats clear focused as never before.
Tigh.
Clear focused on a ship we've all but lost!
Adm. Adama.
Your Billy ne'er would act so wrecklessly.
Roslin.
Nay, he would not so venture, 'tis for sure.
Tory Foster.
My humblest apologies, good madam
President, but please my wise council hear,
As losing this race risks losing it all:
Against Tom Zarek we will soon campaign,
Him offering platitudes and quick fixes,
Class warfare and envy based positions,
Vacuous nonsense set to trumpets' blare,
Arousing masses with fist pumping cheers.
Roslin.
True, there have been many false presidents
Who did enthrall the crowds with pretended care;
The people, ne'er wising, did not suspect
And voted with rally born emotions.
Tory Foster.
Aye, Zarek hath magnetism and charm
Abundant, yet he engenders not but
Well-justified suspicions of his ends
Despite warm affections marking his means.
'Twere consequences damned and failure cheap
He'd be a gambled arrow worth loosing.
The voters need reminding in these days
That these are not those times, when cling'd to life
'Midst Cylons who exploit the slightest slip.
Roslin.
To ragged refugees with naught but hope
An empty promise doth mark a gain,
For nothing but a promise counts as more
Than nothing with empty promise lacked.
But you remind them what they put at risk;
Their stake in this election being life;
And life and love and hope are everything
A man doth need, which we forget sometimes.
Tory Foster.
Aye, so the voters need reminding now
That death is worse than taxes.
Adm. Adama.
And slavery's worse than war.
Tigh.
And losing ships o'er politics is crap!
Frackin' hell I should throw thee out a lock
To gasp the last of thy profound advice.
If whispered word should leak th' incident's cost
Will be ignominius elect'rol defeat.
Roslin.
We thank thee for that heartfelt outburst, Tigh,
As Zarek well could doom my run with cries
Of careless conduct that condemned a ship
To Cylon capture, if this is revealed.
But rein your lashing tongue, as foreseeing
This lightning strike would tax an oracle.
Adm. Adama.
Too much we second guess our decisions
With these cancerous recriminations.
'Tis done and consequences still unfold.
Tigh.
Excuse me sirs, I'd like an answer to
My question as to Tory's expertise
In such portentious business of the fleet.
Tory Foster.
In answer to your query, Colonel Tigh,
My life's been spent in naught but politics:
Knowing me perfect how to run campaigns,
Who to back, when high-road to keep and when
To trash with mud-slinging, I repackage
The candidates I advise, and change 'em,
And whole reform 'em; having both the key
Of platform and office, set their themes
To what tunes please voters' ears; my tricks are
The magic which doth hide my subtle hand
And earn consultant's fee. Thou attend'st not
My earlier campaigns; with heart t'were fought
And fairly won, when candidate had sense
To reconsider time worn certitudes
And reposition on my good advice.
But when my candidate won't heed counsel
Or speaks too bland to carry off the day,
I swing away with every trick and ruse,
Exposing corrupt opponent's pay and
Philandering opponent's naughty play;
Torpedoing naïve opponent's race,
Destroying vain opponent's public face,
While sabotaging party wide support
By damaging their image with the base.
I fight campaigns as wars, where winning is
The only goal. Do less and what's the point?
An epitaph of fading placards pales
Beside what might have been, giv'n victory,
And in our darkest hour or hottest fight
The Cylons won't be checked by squawking rubes.
Tigh.
Aye, that much is certain.
Tory Foster.
Zarek will offer ephemeral dreams;
Tight woven with his convoluted schemes.
He hath surfeit of defects and baggage
And cannot be allowed to hold the reins
And smash this fleet against his swinging rocks.
From what I know of you, when brief you led,
You are a man who understands these things;
Knows smiles and hopes are not a strategy.
I hope you read my meaning, Colonel Tigh.
Tigh.
Aye, 'tis on that we can agree, madam.
While fair elections are laudable goals
Serve they as ways of choosing leaders, and
As fate and logic have already made
The choice apparent, 'tis formality
To mark the ballots. We are eye to eye.
Apollo.
Hold now, methinks I heard vain disrespect
Applied to our form of government.
Though I find Tom Zarek's faults abundant,
'Tis only through elections that we, as
Colonial Citizens, bestow upon
A personhood the laurel wreathed office
Of President, investing in but one
Esteemed and noble figure all the power
We but reluctant yield from our own selves.
But trick the voters out of a fair choice
With crassest smears and vile skullduggery?
How all good instincts do warn against it!
Ensure a fair informed selection, not
A contest based on tricks! Why vote at all
If the sole token of consent be rigged
As governance were but a parlor game?
Process stands above the personalties.
To win unfair is cheating, 'tis abuse
Of office, trust, and luck - if discovered.
Tory Foster.
'Tis true but trite that popularity
Has ne'er been risked by mouthing moralist
Defence of our democracy's ideals,
Nor will mere civics lessons win a race
For office, save the lecture doth traduce
A breach swift caught and exposed in the press.
Apollo.
Why teach such civics lessons if no good
Be there, or if there, seldom exercised?
Is virtue not still lauded in these days
Or has its too long absence lowered eyes
Toward lesser standards of morality?
Tory Foster.
I recognize your kind - too kind ideas
As I have seen their like evinced before
In any hot campaign's new hired recruits.
Nay, rough and tumble politics will school
Naïve utopians in shattered dreams
And strip profound illusions from their eyes.
As fodder do they arrive, as fresh faced
From college come as on their birthing day.
Tigh.
As dumb ass nuggets fight with even odds.
Tory Foster.
They smile and fawn upon the plank
Aft' having argued over every nail
Betwixt themselves as were they running, yet
We only need their tongues for licking stamps.
Unschooled in demographic marketing
And rickety coalition building,
They bleat their slickest slogans out and then
Propound their schoolbook proverbs to the world.
If they remain aboard of course they'll learn
The policy that doth command us all
Is winning, absent which intentions fail,
However nobly spoken.
Apollo.
Lo, your derision dripped examples make
An err, mistaking sincere belief
For child's naiveté and confusing
A jaundiced maturity with wisdom.
As babes are with basest instincts born,
We bid them rise above their sinning blood.
We civilize them, teaching that they must
Account to higher gods with principles
More honorable than come natural
To man. That they believe marks a success,
And noble virtues are as praised for worth
As rarity, esteemed since ancient times.
Tory Foster.
I'd taken you not for a Picon man.
Roslin.
For sakes, restrain your tongue, Miss Foster.
Apollo.
Nor am I! 'Tis high morals I affirm.
Forsooth, we stray from integrity's path
At slightest whim without the checking reins
Of conscience-guided scruple's constant watch.
Our eyes and minds on lofty targets must
Remain afixed or else we act the ass,
Then preach low'rd expectations, relative
Behavior, and expedience as norms,
Like proud and clumsy cats that pounce at where
They land and strut in glory from the act.
Tory Foster.
No clumsiness is in my bearing found,
As many noted figures have observed
To their regret. With vicious cunning do
I thrust my public dagger always home.
Apollo.
Of that I do not doubt. It but confirms
That politics has sunk into the swamp
Of basest campaign pranks and bullying,
Requiring no more demonstration but
Your own belabored arguments connived
To paint an underhanded scheme as wise
And yet composing quite a paradox:
How can elections be adjudged as fair
If they be unfairly fought, is my point,
Or well informed decision through
Misdirection brought?
Tory Foster.
Then would you judge, however you do judge,
All past campaigns unfair? That all debates
were rigged, positions false, and ads deceits?
I speak of how we do these things, and have
Since long before we were our fathers' seed.
Disdain you candidates' prepared remarks
And oft' rehearsed orations? All are spin.
Apollo.
Aye, they assail us with conjured discourse,
Looking to woo and flatter, but is not
Our capacity to reason, by gods
Bestowed, to grant us acumen enough
To choose instead of trusting powerful
Opinion makers who are vested in
The outcome? Nay, let each man speak his heart
From radiating sternum to his throat,
Each saying what they in earnest believe.
Tory Foster.
I am now humbled at your virtues; good
Commander, yet my point still stands as spoke:
If Zarek fights not fair, and he will not,
Then should we let him win or hit him back?
Apollo.
You mock me.
Tory Foster.
Nay, I do but criticize your viewpoint:
It one I've often times encountered with.
I should no more abide your youthful words
Than you should let me guide your Viper, for
In politics you show naïveté
Apollo.
That trait I lost some time ago, and oft'
Do wish I had it back, to sleep the sleep
Of innocence again.
Tory Foster.
Perhaps you should more comfort take in who
You are, or -
Roslin.
Excuse me both, but I must intervene
In this most erudite discussion now,
For time's a tyrant and 'tis running out.
How stand we on matters here? What of Biers?
Tigh.
We shall find her at once, madam.
Apollo.
I would prefer to simply locate Biers
Without her wising to our keen interest.
Tigh.
Why hold back now if she's a Cylon spook?
Apollo.
Biers may or may not be a Cylon, but
If we have a hand I shan't tip our cards.
Tigh.
Just what the frak do you intend?
Pardon.
Adm. Adama
I don't quite follow you, commander. More.
Apollo.
If Cylons did but monitor Biers' feed
To follow Nine's jump, then her camera
May let us lure them to perdition, if
We take control of what the image shows
By tweaking with Nine's drive display.
Adm. Adama
An interesting possibility.
Assuming this was not the main attack,
A reconnoiter and diversion both,
Then they'll soon jump in and we'll away flee,
But while upon us they'll sniff for signals
Transmitting Nine's display, then jump amongst
Our civic fleet and fire their missiles home
Before Galactica and Pegasus
Arrive to fend them off and save the day.
Apollo.
My thoughts exact. By tricking out the rig
To show but some made up coordinates
We may, perhaps, send Cylons where we will,
At least this once, and last if in a star's
Hot heart we lure them.
Adm. Adama
You have a great concatenation made
Of "ifs:" If arrives their armada, if they watch
Display, if that be the trick they used, if they
Fall for our ruse, if we can find a star.
Yet taken as a plan, it has merit.
Have Gaeta get to work on the display.
Tigh, summon our Captain Mayhill at once.
Lee, free up a Raptor and put your best
Jump pilot on it, one who's free to go.
Apollo.
That would be Racetrack. She's making roach runs.
Roslin.
Your pardon, "roach runs?"
Apollo.
Transferring all the food from Nine's stockpile
To other ships, so there's enough to eat
If we must sacrifice that fairest ship.
Roslin.
Ah.
Adm. Adama
Come Lee, around where you may see the chart.
Apollo.
Aye father.
Adm. Adama
The fleet is here, and I wish no traverse,
So these two regions I'll rule out direct.
Send Racetrack deep along this line right here,
Where gaseous nebula and new born stars
Abound. The stellar nurseries there should prove
Rich hunting. Seek a white dwarf, a young one,
Or any star so long as it's obscured
From viewing here. We'll need coordinates
Unusually accurate for jumps that are
Of awesome lengths as those. She must take care
To get the fixes dead precise so that
A Cylon ship attempting to pursue
Abends its jump inside a fiery star.
Apollo.
I understand, and relish plan's success.
Tigh.
And may their end be hell a hundred fold.
Adm. Adama
Keep ye this tight. 'Tis classed as "need to know."
We know not when a Cylon be about.
Apollo.
Aye sir. Most secret we will keep it.
Roslin.
I wish to speak to the admiral alone.
Adm. Adama
Very well. Hithee and dismissed.
Apollo, Tigh.
Yes sir.
Roslin.
Thou too, Tory.
Tory Foster.
Yes ma'am.
Roslin.
Good admiral, perhaps we should discuss
Anon this plan.
Adm. Adama
Aye, lead on, madam.

Exuent all.