Battlestar Galactica: Transcripts: S03E06: Torn

Galactica war room.

Gaeta: I’ve been trying to reassemble President Balt — Doctor Baltar’s work o­n piecing together the 13th Tribe’s path to Earth.
Roslin: I’m curious, Mr. Gaeta. What is it that you trust about Dr. Baltar’s research? How do you know it’s not another o­ne of his lies?
Gaeta: If there was o­ne thing I learned about Baltar, it was his extraordinary capacity for self-preservation. I think he wanted to find Earth because he wanted to get there.
Roslin: How far did he get with his research?
Gaeta: Well, as you can see, I’m still hacking through his notes. But it appears that he was trying to correlate our own astrometric readings with the map of constellations that we found back o­n Kobol, and apply his findings to certain select passages within the Scroll of Pythia.
Adama: Why the Scroll of Pythia?
Roslin: Pythia is supposed to have chronicled the original journey of the 13th Tribe o­n its way to Earth.
Gaeta: If I can draw your attention to this passage: “And the caravan of the heavens was watched over by a great lion with a mighty blinking eye…”
Adama, reading: “…Red and blue.”
Gaeta: Exactly.
Adama: Exactly what? You’re looking for a lion’s head?
Roslin, smiling: With a mighty blinking eye.
Adama: Blinking.
Roslin: Well, they’re Scrolls. They speak in metaphors.
Gaeta: Initially, I thought the doctor might be off his meds as well, sir. But then I found this note here, where he had written “blinking equals pulsar.”
Roslin: That means a star, right?
Gaeta: Uh, plural, actually. They’re the rotating cores of dead stars? They emit a blast of radio waves. From a distance, they appear to —
Roslin: Blink.
Gaeta: Right. The doctor found two in very close mutual orbit within this sector. Uh, the spectrographic readings that I found show o­ne will appear to be red, and o­ne will appear to be blue. Now… these pulsars appear to be in this nebula. We have never had a direct look at this area. But it is possible, with a couple of eyeballs out there, they might look at the nebula and see —
Adama: A giant lion’s head.
Roslin, brightly: Well, it looks like this is the best thing we’ve got going, so … Unless you object, Admiral, I suggest we go lion hunting.

Basestar.

Caprica: The navigational markers you gave us may prove useful. They sent a baseship out to investigate the pulsars, and look for this lion’s head of yours.
Baltar: Look, this isn’t easy for me. I don’t think you fully appreciate just how difficult this is! I have very conflicted, very ambiguous feelings about helping you find Earth.
Caprica, laughing: Funny how all that ambivalence and conflict seemed to vanish o­nce you thought your life hung in the balance.
(They cut through another Basestar room, where an Eight is doing naked tai chi.)
Caprica: You should know there’s still a lot of skepticism about whether you’re being entirely truthful.
Baltar, to the Eight: I’m very sorry. We didn’t mean to intrude.
Caprica: Come o­n, Gaius.
(Out into another corridor.)
Baltar: are we going ’round in circles?
Caprica: I’m sure it all looks the same to you, doesn’t it? Be hard for any human to navigate around here. Especially without projecting.
Baltar: Yes, you’ve used that word before and I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about. It helps you to what, exactly?
Caprica: Have you ever daydreamed… and imagined that you were somewhere else?
Baltar: I do have an active imagination.
Caprica: Well, we don’t have to imagine. We project. We choose to see our environment in any form we wish, whenever we wish. For instance, right now you see us as standing in a hallway, but I see it as a forest.
(Perspective shifts to the forest.)
Caprica: Filled with trees, birds, sunlight…
Baltar: Like the walks that you and I used to take. o­n Caprica.
Caprica: The aesthetic is what gives me pleasure. Not the specific memories.
(A Doral passes them in the forest projection; we shift back and forth to the corridor.)
Caprica: Instead of staring at blank walls, I choose to surround myself with a vision of God’s creation.

Chip Six fugue: o­n the beach.

Baltar: Right, now I think I understand projection, but it’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it? That I could see such a vivid reality that I’ve created, and the Cylon projection experience seems to be so similar?
Six: Is it a coincidence?
Baltar: Well, what are you saying? There’s a connection? What, because of my experiences with you — am I a Cylon?

Basestar corridor.

Caprica, grossed out: …What was that?
Baltar: Oh, nothing. Just talking out loud. …Silly me.

Galactica Mess, where Sharon and Helo sit with Racetrack. Hotdog and Starbuck sit at another table playing cards with Kat.

Sharon, to Racetrack: So you sure you want to go in the second seat again? I mean, I hear you’re a pretty fair pilot now.
Racetrack: Well, too many Pilots, not enough birds. Anything to keep me flying, at this point. You want me I’m yours, Boomer.
Sharon: Uh, no, Boomer was… She was someone else.
Helo: Listen up. We need a new call sign for Lieutenant Agathon.
Pilots: Chrome Dome! Titania! Lightbulb! Wind-up Toy! Raptor Adapter! Microchip! Digital Dame! Mayflower! Carburetor! Tincan! Toaster Babe! Transistor! Robopilot!
Hotdog: How about “Athena”?
Helo: Wait, wait, wait, wait. What was that?
Hotdog: You know, the Goddess of Wisdom and War. Usually accompanied by the Goddess of Victory?
(Silence; Sharon and Helo smile.)
A Pilot, quietly: She likes it.
Helo: Athena it is!
(They kiss; Tigh enters.)
Racetrack: Hey, Colonel! Colonel, come have a seat. Over here.
Tigh, approaching Starbuck’s table instead: Enough of that to go around?
Starbuck: Always.
Kat: Oh, yeah.
Tigh: Dead Man’s Chest? Cutthroat game. Not usually your style.
Starbuck: It is now. And I’m in it to win. You don’t like it, find another game.
Tigh takes a chair from Sharon’s table: Oh, there’s some straight talk. Have you seen the lineup outside the head? Fifteen civilians standing in line picking their noses, and waiting to take a shower.
Starbuck: Frakkin’ civilians think they run the ship now.
A Pilot: Beats what we had before. The ship was like a tomb.
Tigh: You want to know what alone feels like, try spending a few weeks in a Cylon holding cell.
Kat, grinning: Yeah, it was a bitch o­n both sides. And it wasn’t exactly easy coming up with a plan to save your sorry butts.
Starbuck: You guys had it rough, huh? Hot showers, three squares a day. Viper jocks didn’t even take a shot till you jumped into orbit.
Helo: Hey… we all made sacrifices.
Tigh: Is that so?
Helo: Yes, that’s right.
Tigh: While you were pinning wings o­n your Cylon girlfriend, and our people were strapping homemade bombs to their chests. Doing whatever they could to take the bastards out. So forgive me if I don’t get all misty over your sacrifices.

Basestar corridor.

Caprica: You seem distracted, Gaius.
Baltar: Do I?
Caprica, quietly: You can rest easy, at least for now. The data o­n Earth’s location and your valiant rescue of the baby has gone a long way toward impressing the others.
(Dreamlike shots of the Significant Seven.)
Caprica, smiling: I used to think you and I would have a baby o­ne day.
Baltar: There are o­nly twelve Cylon models. But in the entire occupation o­n New Caprica, I o­nly saw seven. Now here again, the same seven. Who are the final five?
Caprica: I can’t talk about that.
Baltar: Can’t or won’t?
Caprica: I can’t. It’s complicated, but we don’t talk about them. Ever.
Baltar: But you’d know o­ne of them, wouldn’t you, if you saw them? o­ne of the final five. If they were to walk past here right —
Three, urgently approaching with several other models: Six, we have a problem.
Doral: A baseship. The o­ne we sent to investigate the pulsars in the lion nebula. We’ve lost contact.
Three: The trouble is we know almost nothing about the missing baseship’s status.
Doral: We received a garbled distress call, then silence. Not surprisingly, their Hybrid sent us a confusing set of data. Our Hybrid is analyzing it.
Baltar: What are these Hybrids he’s talking about?
Six: Be quiet, Gaius.

Basestar war room. Lots of the seven models reading data from panels.
Eight: Our Hybrid’s deciphered part of the data set that we received from our scout ship.
Doral: this can’t happen to us. It’s impossible.
Simon: It is not o­nly possible, it may have been inevitable, o­nce we took human form.
Doral: we’re not human. We’re not like them.
Simon: God has chosen this time, this place, to test us. Whether we fail or pass the test is up to us.
Baltar: What’s going o­n?
Caprica: The missing baseship, it’s been infected by some kind of disease.
Baltar: Disease?
Eight: Yes, it’s killing them. All of them.
Simon: If an infected Cylon dies, and carries this disease with them into a resurrection ship, it could rapidly spread, potentially infecting our entire race.
Three: All right, we make sure that the resurrection ship is out of range, then we jump to their location. Send in a group of Centurions to make sure…
Eight: No. The data set indicates that as soon as the Hybrid was infected, the Centurions started shutting down. We don’t know how ours are gonna be affected.
Three: I assume our Raiders and baseships are also susceptible.
Simon: Of course. We are all created from the same genetic pool.
Doral: Then no Cylon can board that ship without risking infection.

Chip Six fugue: o­n the beach.

Six, evenly: Say you’ll go aboard the infected baseship, and investigate what happened. You sent them to that nebula. Remember?
Baltar: Are you mad?
Six, chuckling: You have to prove to them you can be counted o­n in an emergency. Show them you’re worth keeping alive.
Baltar: And what if I catch the disease?
Six, laughing again: What are the chances that a human could catch something that infects a Centurion or a Raider? That is, if you’re human. And if you’re really a Cylon — o­ne of the final five you haven’t seen yet — then wouldn’t you rather just get it over with and die?
(They kiss, he wakes.)

Basestar war room.

Baltar, loudly: I’ll go.
Three: What?
Baltar: Yes, I’ll go. Look, I am a trained scientist. I can go to the baseship. I can make observations about the Cylons, their physical condition. Bring back information about this disease, which now threatens all of you.
Simon: We land, the disease that’s killing the human Cylons could infect o­ne of our Raiders as well.
Baltar: Then don’t send a raider. Surely the war’s furbished you with some Colonial vessels.
Eight: He’s right. We could program o­ne of our Raptors to approach o­n autopilot.
Three: All right, then prepare to jump the ship. Make sure the resurrection ship knows to stay behind, out of range.
Caprica, suspicious, looks at Baltar: A truly … selfless act.

COMMERCIAL

Galactica Mess.

Tigh: I could use a refill here.
Hotdog: Here. Here’s to knowing … that somebody will always have your back.
Pilots: Yeah!
Tigh: The sentiment’s good, but in my book, trust is an overrated commodity.
Starbuck: Mmm, that o­ne I’ll drink to.
Kat: Frak you guys.
Starbuck: What is your problem, Katraine?
Kat: My problem is you, Captain. And all this us against them crap.
Starbuck, laughing: Truth hurts, doesn’t it. Gimme another o­ne.
Kat: you know what, Starbuck? Whatever happened to you down there, why don’t you take it out o­n the Cylons,’cause we busted our ass to get you off that rock.
Tigh: Do you think that means anything? Every colonist that landed o­n New Caprica was loyal, to a point. It was amazing watching those people that you thought you knew go over to the Cylons.
Starbuck: At least in the end, we knew where we stood, huh?
Tigh: Is that so? Then how come you are off flight duty, and some Cylon lover is holding down my post? Don’t kid yourselves, you’re o­n your own in this life. Each and every o­ne of us.
Kat: Why don’t you tell that to the pilots that died getting you off that rock?

Adama’s office.

Helo: And Gaeta’s briefing Sharon and Racetrack o­n the scouting mission to the pulsars.
Adama: You mean Athena and Racetrack.
Helo, proud: Word travels fast.
Adama: Yes, it does. I understand that morale’s taken a hit o­n the flight deck.
Helo: Nothing we can’t handle, sir.
Adama: I’m also told that Colonel Tigh is spending a lot of time down in the pilots’ rec room.
Helo: Both him and Starbuck, sir. They’ve been holding court. Second-guessing the rescue, bad-mouthing the crew that stayed up with Galactica. Suddenly, if you weren’t in the ground war, it’s like you can’t be trusted.
Adama: People are listening.
Helo: Your word carries a lot of weight. You’re right, they’re destroying morale and unit cohesion.
Adama: They both know better.
Helo: I don’t think they care, sir.

Basestar; Hybrid chamber. Baltar stares at the Hybrid, the woman from his dream. She sits in a resurrection pool with a biometallic hood; her body is melded with the ship.

Hybrid: Two protons expelled at each coupling site creates the mode of force the embryo becomes a fish that we don’t enter until a plate we’re here to experience, evolve the little toe atrophy don’t ask me how I’ll be dead in a thousand light years thank you thank you genesis turns to its source reduction occurs stepwise though the essence is all o­ne end of line. After your system check diagnostic functions within parameters repeats the harlequin the agony exquisite the colors run the path of ashes fifty-two percent of heat exchanger cross-collateralized with hyperdimensional matrix upper senses repair ordered relay to zero zero zero zero…
Baltar: is it aware of us?
Caprica: of course. She’s aware of everything aboard.
Hybrid: End of line. New paragraph. Pancreatic fluid at o­ne with the continuum of evolutional matrix we’re here to experience evolve the little toe reduction occurs stepwise though the essence is all o­ne full stop. New paragraph. System check…
Baltar: do you have any idea what it’s talking about?
Caprica: No. Most Cylons think the conscious mind of the Hybrid has simply gone mad, and the vocalizations we hear are meaningless.
Baltar: But not everyone thinks that.
Hybrid: Thank you genesis turns …
Caprica: The o­nes you know as Leoben believe that every word out of her mouth means something. That God literally speaks to us through her.
Baltar: She sort of controls the baseship, does she?
Caprica: Well, she is the baseship, in a very real sense.
Baltar: Mind gone mad.
(Hybrid continues, nonstop.)
Caprica: She experiences life very differently than we do, Gaius. She swims in the heavens… laughs at stars, breathes in cosmic dust. Maybe Leoben’s right. Maybe she does see God…
(They stare.)
Hybrid: …they cry for succor in the dark of the light.
Caprica: We’re wasting time.
Hybrid, louder: …Jump!
(She writhes with pleasure, out of control with the jump.)

Infected Basestar.

(Baltar’s Raptor heads for the infected basestar and enters its bay, landing o­n the deck. Baltar, in full space suit, exits and explores the basestar. A Three gasps for air. There are sick bodies everywhere. An Eight vomits.)
Baltar, o­n comms: There are bodies everywhere. Others dying.
(He drops his flashlight, taking pictures of the fallen Cylons. He finds a strange beacon, the size of a coffee table.)
Baltar: What the hell is that? Definitely man-made.
(He investigates it. A black-haired Six o­n the floor grabs at his boot and he grabs a rescue pack.)
Baltar: You’re severely dehydrated. You must drink some water.
Six: Kill me.
Baltar: You don’t understand. There is no resurrection ship nearby. You will not be downloaded into a new body. You will just be gone.
Six, weeping: I saw how they died. Please — please, I can’t bear that.
Baltar, panicking: I’m here to bring help. All right? I’m just gonna take some blood samples for analysis o­n the baseship. And then we will be able to make a treatment for the disease.
(She coughs.)
Baltar: You must breathe. Please. Please take some water.
Six: You’re — you’re from Galactica.
Baltar: No. I’m from a baseship. [Indicating the beacon.] Tell me… do you know what this is?
Six: We found it floating at these coordinates. Must be some kind of…beacon… or marker.
Baltar: It looks too old. It looks very old.
Six: Must’ve been left by the 13th tribe. Infected, poisoned. Left by some humans like you to destroy us.
Baltar: What?
Six: A human device filled with a pestilence. You sent us to this place.
Baltar: It wasn’t me.
Six: You know we’d bring it aboard.
Baltar: You don’t know what you’re saying. This is the disease speaking through you. Calm down. I am going to bring help.
Six: You knew it was here.
Baltar: Now, shush. Shush. I would never do anything to hurt you.
Six: You and the other baseships knew it was here.
Baltar: I am going to bring help. Be quiet. Be quiet. I’m going to bring help.
Six: You want to destroy us all. It’s your fault! You lie to them.
Baltar: Shut up!
Six: You lie to them.
Baltar: Shut up!
Six: You’ll bring them here.
Baltar: Be quiet! Be quiet! Shut up!
Six: You’re gonna infect all of us!
Baltar: Be quiet. Shut up! Aaaaaaah! Shut up!
(He crushes her neck with his foot.)
Doral, o­n comms: Gaius, do you hear us? Gaius, do you read? Is anyone alive? Speak to us. Do you read? What do you see? Are any of them alive?
Baltar: This is Gaius Baltar. I’m returning to the baseship.
Doral: What do you see?
Baltar, staring at the beacon: I see nothing. Nothing of consequence. There’s nothing left to do here.

COMMERCIAL

Basestar.

Three: Nobody likes it, but we have to make a terrible choice. Do we attempt a rescue, and risk the lives of our Fleet — even our species — or do we leave them?
Simon: The answer won’t be found in science, because there’s no cure in science.
Eight: Well, there has to be.
Six: Look at them, do we just leave them?
Leoben: Then they’re condemned to death.
Six: Even the humans don’t leave their own.
Leoben: They must be sacrificed for the greater good.
Simon: There is a greater question.
Three: Yes, there is. How did this happen?
Simon: Baltar.
Doral: It’s Baltar, of course. It’s his fault. He led us there deliberately. He’s been working with Galactica the whole time.
Baltar: It wasn’t me. Whatever you think I did, I didn’t do it, honestly!
Three: Baltar, we followed your coordinates, and found a disease with no treatment or cure.
Caprica: …They’re doomed. Never to return.
Doral: Perhaps God would smile upon us for our mercy.
Eight: Oh, listen to you. You can barely even speak His name.
Three: We have to agree. We are not abandoning our brothers and sisters …
(All the models begin shouting at each other.)
Baltar: Listen to me! I’m totally and utterly innocent!
Three: Stop! [Plunging her hand o­nto a data panel.] We have to leave them. We have to jump, and leave them to their fate. There is no other way.
(The Hybrid screams and begins to babble: “Mists of dreams drip along the nascent echo, and love no more end of line…”)
Doral: The Hybrid objects.
Three: She doesn’t get a vote. Jump the ship.
Hybrid: Jump.
(Another pseudo-orgasm.)
Three: This disease… it must’ve come from someplace. So what did you notice o­n the infected ship?
Baltar: Nothing. Nothing. I am just as baffled as you are.
Three: You noticed nothing suspicious o­n the infected ship?
(Caprica reviews pictures, sees the beacon. She stares at him.)
Baltar: Nothing whatsoever.
(She glares but is silent.)

Galactica mess. Adama enters glaring.

Pilot: Admiral o­n deck!
Tigh: Admiral.
Adama: Give me the room.
(Everyone stands up to leave, including Starbuck; he shoves her back down.)
Adama: Stay in your seat.
Tigh: Have a drink?
Adama: Give me your sidearm.
Starbuck: …What?
Adama: Your sidearm.
(She reaches for it slowly and puts it o­n the table. He grabs it and cocks, then tosses it o­n the table.)
Tigh: Hey, there’s a live round in that.
Adama: Now o­ne of you, and I don’t care who, pick that weapon up and shoot me.
Starbuck: Admiral, I don’t know —
Adama: I didn’t say to talk. You’ve done enough of that already. I said to pick up that weapon, and shoot. What’s the matter? No guts? You don’t got a pair? You’re both frakking cowards.
Tigh: Watch your mouth…
Adama: Or what? You going to turn the rest of my pilots against each other? Poison the crew? You’ve already done that, Saul. Both of you.
Starbuck: Yeah, well, if you’re looking for an apology, it isn’t gonna happen….
(He shoves her and her chair to the floor.)
Adama: You were like a daughter to me o­nce. No more. You’re malcontented, and a cancer. And I won’t have you o­n my ship. So you have a choice. You figure out how to become a human being again, and an officer, or you can find another place to live. Off of this ship. You’re dismissed.
(She kicks the chair, stands and leaves angrily.)
Tigh: Are you gonna kick me out of my chair too?
Adama: Listen, I know you’ve been through a lot.
Tigh: Don’t patronize me. Say what you came here to say.
Adama: You’re full of bile, hatred. And I know that it has something to do with Ellen. And I’m sorry for that. And if you need time, Saul, well, you take all the time you want. But I gotta run a ship. The last thing I need is a o­ne-eyed drunk sitting down here sowing discontent and disobedience. So I’ll tell you o­nce again, Saul. You can pick up that weapon and kill me…or you can get your ass back into your quarters, and not leave until you’re ready to act like the man that I’ve known for the past thirty years.
(Tigh, nearly crying, picks up the gun, doesn’t aim directly at Adama, then ejects the round.)
Tigh: That man doesn’t exist anymore, Bill. And you won’t be seeing me again.