Battlestar Galactica: Transcripts: S03E19: Crossroads Pt. 1
Baltar: Previously, on Battlestar Galactica…
Baltar: What’s this?
Three: This orders the summary executions of all the detainees listed on the next page. It requires your signature.
Doral, cocking a gun: Sign it! Sign your name!
Anders: The Cylons knew exactly where we were gonna be.
Ellen: I want to explain.
Anders: She sold us out. You know what has to be done here. Now it would be better for her sake if it was you.
(Tigh kills Ellen and weeps.)
Roslin: You’re not afraid to represent the most hated man alive?
Lampkin: I’d like to see my client.
Lampkin: If they want to kill me, they’ll find a way.
Adama: with Baltar’s lawyer injured, his defense will need help.
Apollo: Dad, why not me? I’m close to the case. I’ve read the documents.
Adama: You’re a CAG, you’re not a lawyer. I will not allow you to sit across the courtroom on the other side defending Gaius Baltar.
Apollo: Is that an order?
Adama: I’m through giving you orders.
Opera House/Roslin’s Quarters
(Roslin walks through the halls of the Opera House, hears a little girl laughing, and spots her.)
Roslin: Hera? Hera!
(Hera laughs, and runs. Laura spots a Sharon, and they race each other down the stairs toward Hera. A Six picks Hera up and the bottom of the stairs, and walks into the light — the gallery where the Final Five Cylons have been seen. Roslin wakes up gasping in her quarters.)
Gaeta: We finally got Greenleaf‘s FTL nailed down, sir.
Adama: So the Fleet’s ready to jump again. How many more before we find the nebula?
Gaeta: I’m estimating an even dozen.
Adama: We’re getting close. Still no sign of the Cylons.
Gaeta: No, sir. We’ve left a trailing bird at every jump site. No dradis contacts, no sightings, nothing.
Adama: Alter the mission orders of the trailing Raptor. Tell them to remain an additional six hours before catching up with the fleet.
Gaeta: Yes, sir.
(Tigh listens closely to radio, adjusting it to hear something through the static.)
Hotdog: yeah! Woo-hoo! You’re up, superstar.
Anders: You know this game’s got frak all to do with the real thing, right?
Skulls: I didn’t hear you nuggets say that in the beginning.
Anders: I don’t really care what anybody…
(Tigh almost gets the signal.)
Anders: — There, go back. You almost had it.
Seelix: had what?
Anders: That song. You don’t hear that song?
Seelix, clapping: No. Come on, you’re up. Let’s go.
Anders: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Tory: Baltar was instrumental in the Cylon attack on the Colonies. The President wants him charged with genocide.
Cassidy: I can’t make it stick. There’s no evidence of his involvement in…
Tory: — The President saw him with one of the Sixes on Caprica. Before the attacks.
Cassidy: You really want me to put Laura Roslin on the stand to testify about her drug-induced visions?
Tory: What we want is for you to do your job and convict him. If you can’t do that, we’ll find someone who will.
Cassidy: This is a courtesy meeting, not a strategy session. I am charging Baltar with what I can prove. Of course, I do serve at the pleasure of the President. And if she decides to replace me, I’m sure there are other lawyers willing to take up the case. (Leaving) If there are any other lawyers.
Woman: Dr. Baltar?
Baltar: Who are you? Oh. Look, I’m terribly sorry. I’m under strict instructions from my attorney not to speak to any members of the press.
Woman: Oh! No, Dr. Baltar, I– I want you to look at this picture. This is my son. He’s sick, and I want you to bless him.
Baltar: Bless him? Guard! I’m terribly sorry, madam.
Baltar: I can’t help you. I’m not God the God, or God of any derivation thereof.
Baltar: I can’t bless him. I’m sorry, I don’t have any special powers.
Woman: I believe in you.
Baltar: Well, that’s very flattering.
Woman: Just please take it.
Baltar: What the hell’s going on here? This place is becoming like a zoo.
Woman: Just, please… Will you just take it?
Baltar: I’m on trial for my life. I need a bit of privacy, please…
Woman: — Just take it and pray for him, please! Please.
Guard: it’s time to go.
Baltar: I’ll do my best.
Woman: You can save him.
Baltar: Yeah, mind how you go now.
Six: How many is that now?
Six: Not including the thirty or forty who’ve written letters.
Baltar: Mm-hmm. Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. Celebrity trials invariably bring out the crazies.
Six: So you think they’re crazy. See, I saw a woman in pain. I saw a woman who can see you more clearly than you can see yourself. Even if they kill you, your name will live on forever.
Raptor 289, Trailing
Racetrack: Galactica, Raptor 289. We’re clear and in position for rear guard picket.
Tigh: Roger, 289er. Have fun watching our ass, Racetrack.
Racetrack: Have fun watching Baltar’s ass get nailed. All right, get comfortable. Twelve hours and counting.
Skulls: Twelve hours hanging out here like bait on a hook waiting to see if the Cylons are still following us.
Racetrack, laughing: Just shut up and deal, okay?
Cassidy: How do we measure loss? How do we measure loss? We measure it in the faces of the dead. The faces that haunt our memories and our dreams. How do we measure loss? We measure it in our own faces. The ones we see in the mirror every day. Because it has marked each of us. So how do we measure loss? When the scale of it becomes… too hard to absorb any other way, we use numbers. How many killed. How many maimed. How many missing. And when those numbers become too vast to comprehend, as they did two years ago, we had to turn it around. We began to count the living. Those of us who survived to continue the saga of the human race. 44,035. The sum total of survivors from the Twelve Colonies who settled on New Caprica with President Gaius Baltar as their leader and protector. 38,838. Our number the day after we escaped. And the missing number, the one that no one wants to face. 5197. 5197 of us killed, left behind, or simply disappeared. 5,197 of all that remains of the human race. Lost.
(Cassidy is being broadcast throughout the Fleet: the Hangar Bay and tylium refinery, among others, are shown.)
Cassidy: The citizens of the Twelve Colonies entrusted their fates and the lives to Gaius Baltar. What we received was a reign of terror that staggers our minds and breaks our hearts. Instead of governance, we got tyranny. Instead of justice, we got oppression. Instead of a president, we got a murderer. Today, humanity holds him accountable for his crime. Gaius Baltar is not a victim. Gaius Baltar chose to side with the Cylons and to actively seek the deaths of his fellow citizens. For that… he must pay the ultimate price.
(She opens the floor for Lampkin’s opening statement.)
Lampkin: Your honors, the defense would like to change our plea to guilty.
(The gallery murmurs.)
Franks: What? Counselor, are you sure you want to do that?
Lampkin: No. But what choice do I have? I mean, it’s obvious my client is guilty.
(Gaius coughs worriedly.)
Lampkin: He’s a traitor and a killer. He’s no better than the Cylon, and what do we do with them?
Man: Throw ’em out the airlock!
Lampkin: That’s right! Throw ’em out the airlock! This man sold us to our enemy. This man is our enemy. And if there’s one thing that’s good in war, that is right and just and proper, it’s slaughtering our enemy! Getting some righteous payback! What are we waiting for? Let’s just kill him now! It’d be easier, wouldn’t it? Simpler. Justice of the mob. It’s what they want.
(Laura enters and seats herself in the stands.)
Lampkin: Especially her. She’s been wanting this for over a year now. Ever since he beat her in a free and fair election of the people. Now she gets a chance to exact her revenge upon a man whose only real crime is bowing to the inevitable! Gaius Baltar saved the lives of the people on New Caprica. Where Laura Roslin would’ve seen us all dead, victims of a battle we had no hope in winning! I don’t know about you, but I’m glad she wasn’t the president when the Cylons arrived and said, “Surrender, or die.” I owe my life to Gaius Baltar and the decision he made that day. And so does Laura Roslin.
Raptor 289, Trailing
Skulls: …Yeah, like you frakkin’ know.
Racetrack: I know you wank it in your rack. Ladies man.
Skulls: You see, that’s called self-healing.
Racetrack: Okay, time check.
Racetrack: Oh, we got something. Lots of company!
Skulls: Reading three, four… No, five baseships! Crap, they’re right on top of us!
Racetrack: Frak. Frak, incoming!
Skulls: The FTL’s still spinning up.
Racetrack: We gotta jump! Now, Godsdamn it! Now!
(They jump, just missing an incoming missile.)
Adama: Begin searching the entire fleet for tracking devices. It’s possible they could’ve placed one on a ship on New Caprica.
Roslin: I think that we should ask the Six. She may be willing to help.
Tigh: Baltar’s girlfriend. And why would she do that?
Roslin: Because she does not want to see Hera go back to the Cylons.
Tigh: You think that thing would stick her neck out for some half-Cylon whelp?
Roslin: I have a feeling she’d lay her life down for it.
Tigh: A feeling?
Roslin: It’s more than a feeling,
(Roslin and Adama have a meeting away from the main floor of CIC. Lee watches, and then sniffs Roslin’s teacup, making a stunned face.)
Adama: All right? Why…
Roslin: Just do it. It doesn’t hurt to ask.
Adama: Ask the prisoner if it knows of any tracking devices in the fleet.
Tigh: With pleasure.
(Tigh enters with a contingent of Marines.)
Tigh: The President, Gods bless her sunny optimistic soul, thinks you might want to share how your buddies have been tracking us. So I’m here to ask the question and listen to your lies.
Caprica: In the last battle, we discovered your fuel ship… had a unique radiation signature. They must’ve found a way to track it.
Tigh: What else do you know? What other secrets are rattling around inside that mechanical brain?
(One of them, the Inner Gaius, appears to her.)
Chip Gaius: Don’t be intimidated by him. He’s just using you to exorcise his own pain. Poor old sod. He lost someone close to him. Oh, you know how that feels, don’t you?
Caprica, aloud: I know a lot of things.
(She stands and stares Tigh down.)
Caprica: You want to know one thing I know? I know about your loss. Hurts, doesn’t it? You wonder how you can even survive it.
Tigh: I don’t know what you’re talking about. But it’s not gonna work.
Chip Gaius: she was his world. Of course, he only realized when she was gone.
Caprica: Did she know? Did she know? Did she know how much she meant to you? Or did you wait to tell her till she was gone?
Caprica: Bet you made her think that she was a burden. A millstone around your neck. But then you humans always destroy the ones who love you, don’t you…
(Tigh punches her; she punches him back. The Marines cock their guns.)
Tigh: Shackle this thing.
(They do, and leave her alone.)
Cassidy: …Colonel Tigh?
Tigh: Excuse me. What was the question again?
Cassidy: As the leader of the insurgency, did you ever hear of an instance in which Baltar stood up to the Cylons or tried to disrupt their plans?
Tigh: Oh, no, never. He never lifted a frakkin’ finger to help us. Ellen did more. At least she was trying to… To help us.
Apollo: My Gods, he’s drunk.
Cassidy: Yes. Yes, Ellen. Your wife. Another victim of Baltar’s Cylon allies.
Tigh: Yeah, that’s right. Yep.
Cassidy: Thank you, Colonel. Your witness.
Lampkin: What happened to the Colonel’s wife?
Apollo: She used to work for one of the Cylon administrators.
Lampkin: She worked for them?
Lampkin: You know what happened to her?
Apollo: No, no idea. I presume she died in the exodus from New Caprica.
Lampkin: Ah. Ahem. Colonel.
Lampkin: You dislike Gaius Baltar because you consider him to be a traitor. Is that correct?
Tigh: And a coward, and a mass murderer.
Lampkin: The suicide bombing of the police graduation. Gaius Baltar was the intended target, was he not?
Tigh: And if he’d had the guts to show up that day like he was supposed to, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.
Lampkin: So you ordered the killing of– what was it? 33 other men and women, just for the chance to kill Gaius Baltar.
Tigh: They were all traitors. Anyone who put on that uniform. But yes, he was the target.
Lampkin: What happened to your wife?
Cassidy: Exception. Relevance?
Lampkin: The door was opened on direct, your honors.
Adama: I fail to see the point of pursuing this…
Judge: He’s right, Admiral, if it was brought up during direct examination, than it can be pursued in the cross. Overruled. Continue.
Lampkin: What happened to your wife, colonel?
Tigh: You frakkin’ son of a bitch–
Lampkin: isn’t it true that she collaborated openly with the Cylons? That she actually worked for them.
Tigh: She was faking it. Making them think that she was working for them.
Lampkin: I-I see, yeah. And Baltar, he wasn’t faking it, no.
Tigh: That’s right.
Lampkin: And you blame him for her death. Have you been drinking today, colonel?
Tigh: I had a drink. I haven’t been drinking.
Lampkin: You used to like to drink with Ellen, I imagine.
Tigh: You hear that? They’re playing music in here now?
Lampkin: Gaius Baltar didn’t order the death of your wife. Colonel, that was somebody else. Who was it, colonel? Who killed Ellen? Come on, colonel, we’re waiting. Tell us. Who was it? Who killed Ellen?
Tigh: I did. I did. I did. She was giving information to the Cylons. A lot of good men died. She was my wife. It was my responsibility. She did it for me. That’s what she said. To save me from going back to prison so they could tear more pieces off me. So I killed her. All because of that thing over there. All because Gaius frakkin’ Baltar didn’t have the guts to stand up to the Cylons. Because he handed our fates over to the Cylons, I had to kill my Ellen.
Lampkin: so Gaius Baltar made you kill your wife. That’s why you hate him. And that’s why you’d say anything to see him die.
Tigh: You’re Godsdamned right i would. I would do anything… say anything… to see that man die a painful death.
Lampkin: No further questions.
Tigh: Will someone turn off that music?!
Reporter: “Earlier today, protestors were arrested on…”
Nuggets: …Okay, are you hearing anything I’m saying? Shut up! My Gods.
Report: “A contingency of Colonial Marines were deployed to the ship… ”
Bartender: What can I get you?
Tory: I don’t know what I want. You figure it out. You’re the bartender.
Bartender: Okay. Tell you what. I’ll surprise you.
Anders: Yes, finally! Thank you! About time. I’m not a bad coach, huh?
(Tory and Sam both hear the music coming from the radio, and lock eyes.)
Roslin: …One more time?
Roslin: I was grading papers in the schoolhouse at night and they came again. Fortunately, the children were gone. It was after dark. They took close to 200 of our people that night. Under Baltar’s direct orders. As it turned out, all of our names were on a death list signed by Dr. Baltar.
Cassidy: Let us be crystal clear on this fact. You are saying that the defendant, Gaius Baltar, ordered your execution and the execution of 200 other people?
Roslin: Yes, indeed. That’s exactly what I’m saying.
Lampkin, aside: We need to talk.
Baltar: We need to find something, anything, that can discredit her testimony. She’s a fanatic, right?
Lampkin: I don’t know if that’s gonna help. (To Lee) You’re awfully quiet.
Lampkin: You’re awfully quiet.
Apollo: I was just listening.
Lampkin: You see, your problem is that I’m a really good liar and you’re not. So let’s have it.
Apollo: Have what?
Baltar: My Gods, he’s right. You do know something. You know something and you’re not saying.
Apollo: It’s probably not even true.
Lampkin: I like it already.
Apollo: It’s a personal matter. I doubt she’d ever say anything in front of me.
Baltar: She? She? This is about Laura Roslin? And you’re not… Tell me, tell me!
Lampkin: Shut up. Enjoying yourself so far?
Lampkin: Having a good time sticking it to the old man defending the most hated person in the universe?
Apollo: That’s not why I agreed to do this.
Lampkin: No, you just decided to stand up for truth and justice and all those other lovely things we inscribe upon courtroom doors.
Apollo: Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m doing. Because I believe in the system. I really believe. I even believe that our lowlife pond scum of a client actually deserves a fair trial.
Lampkin: The system requires that you tell what you know, which leaves you with one of two uncomfortable options. First, share the information, and in so doing, uphold the very principles that you claim to hold so dear. Or second, keep ’em to yourself and prove once and for all your only purpose here is to jab your father in the eye and make a mockery of the entire justice system.
Apollo: That’s very nice. Very, very nice, but I know why I’m here. I don’t need to prove it to you or to anyone else.
Lampkin: You’re wrong. You need to prove it to yourself, or you leave that courtroom out there knowing you kept a secret that could’ve saved that man’s miserable life. Now unless I greatly misjudged your character, that’s not something that Lee Adama wishes on his conscience. So what’ll it be, Major? Sit on the sidelines mouthing pieties, or are you gonna get in this trial and give us something we can use?
(Bill helps Saul into bed.)
Adama: Come on. Come on. There we go.
Tigh, coughing: Here we go.
Adama: Give me that. You’ve had enough of that already.
Adama: Attaboy… Got some good news today. We found the radiation signature on the tylium ship. Just like the Cylon prisoner said we would.
Tigh: Good. That’s great.
Adama: Being repaired as we speak. Mr. Gaeta estimates the fleet’s nine jumps away from the nebula. Considering how long it’s gonna take to fix the tylium ship, we’re out… maybe three days. Three days out from the next clue on the road to Earth.
Tigh: Can’t smell her. I can’t smell her anymore, bill. I kept her clothes… but her smell is gone now.
Adama: I gotta go, Saul. Gotta retire.
Tigh: I’m sorry about all that in court.
Adama: There’s nothing to be sorry about.
Tigh: I embarrassed you. Made you look bad.
Adama: You’re my oldest friend, Saul. You never embarrass me. Get some rest.
Apollo: Can a former CAG make a radical suggestion to the admiral? What if we don’t fix the tylium ship?
Adama: Repairs have already started.
Apollo: I realize that, but hear me out. We’re too close to the nebula to simply fix the problem and hope the Cylons can’t guess where we’re going. So if we don’t fix it, if instead we send the ship off on a new course with a couple of raptors riding shotgun, let them make a few jumps before rejoining the fleet, it might throw the Cylons off.
Adama: It’s a good idea. I’ll take it into consideration. Is there anything else?
Apollo: How’s the president?
Apollo: Is she okay? She looked a little rattled in court yesterday.
Adama, exhaling: We can’t talk about the trial outside of court, you know that. Or you should.
Apollo: I know. I wasn’t asking about…
Adama: after what you did to Tigh, you’re the last person I would consider to confide in.
Apollo: Me? I didn’t do anything to Tigh. He was drunk. It’s really not my fault.
Adama: You told Lampkin about Ellen.
Apollo: I didn’t know about Ellen.
Adama, scoffing: Yeah, right.
Apollo: You’re calling me a liar?
Adama: I’m calling you a liar and a coward. one who doesn’t have the guts to go after a man himself. Instead, you hand the shiv to a stranger and let him stab Tigh in the back. And for what? Traitorous piece of garbage Gaius Baltar. Doesn’t even deserve a trial.
Apollo: Are you done?
Apollo, removing his wings: Then so am I. I will not serve under a man who questions my integrity.
Adama: And I won’t have an officer under my command who doesn’t have any.
(Bill tosses the insignia in a drawer.)
Apollo: I’ll see you in court, Admiral.
(The gallery murmurs. Lee whispers into Lampkin’s ear.)
Apollo: Let me do this.
Lampkin: What? Are you sure, major?
Apollo: It’s… It’s mister now. And yeah, I’m sure. It should be me.
Baltar: You’re not seriously gonna let my security guard…
Franks: We’re waiting, Mr. Lampkin.
Lampkin: If it’d please the court, my associate, Mr. Adama, will question the witness.
Adama, muttering: His associate.
Franks: The defense may proceed.
Lampkin: thank you.
Apollo: Madam President, aren’t you alive today because of Gaius Baltar?
Roslin: I’m alive today because the insurgents managed to stop the execution.
Apollo: Well, they saved you from a Cylon firing squad, but…wasn’t it Baltar who saved your life when you were dying from cancer?
Apollo: Uh, your honors…
Lampkin: Hostile witness, your honors, if the court would grant us just a little latitude.
Franks: We’ll allow it.
Lampkin: Thank you.
Apollo: Um… did Gaius Baltar save your life when you were dying from cancer?
Roslin: Dr. Baltar’s scientific knowledge did save my life indeed.
Apollo: Can you be more specific? How did he save your life on that occasion?
Roslin: He injected me with the blood of a half-Cylon, half-human baby. (The gallery murmurs.)
Apollo: And your cancer vanished.
Apollo: During your illness, what sort of medication were you on?
Roslin: You know, I was taking a lot of medications at the time, and I don’t remember all their names.
Apollo: Did you take something called chamalla extract?
Roslin: Hmph. Yes.
(The gallery mutters.)
Apollo: Isn’t it true that one of the side effects of taking chamalla is a propensity to experience hallucinations?
Roslin: Yes, that is one of the possible side effects of chamalla.
Apollo: And isn’t it also true that the visions that you once described as messages from the Gods were actually the result of a pharmacological reaction from taking chamalla?
Roslin: The chamalla did enable me to see certain things that were foretold by the scriptures. Things that will help this fleet find its way to Earth. You of all people should know that, Major.
Cassidy: Your Honors.
Franks: Mr. Adama, where are you going with this?
Apollo: Just one more question, your honor.
(Lee comes close to Laura, in the witness chair. She whispers to him.)
Roslin: Please don’t do this. Please.
Apollo: Madam President, are you taking chamalla at this time?
Roslin: “Captain Apollo.” You remember that? I always thought it had such a nice ring to it. I am so, so sorry for you now.
Apollo: Chamalla, Madam President. Perhaps dissolved in your tea to mask the bitterness?
Adama: Don’t answer. I’m putting a stop to this right now.
Apollo: Your honors, if she is on drugs, it goes to her credibility as a witness.
Adama: Witness is dismissed!
Lampkin: Your honors, I have to strongly object. He’s obviously trying to cover something up here.
Adama: one more word from you, and you’ll both be held for contempt.
Judge: Admiral! I’d like to hear the witness answer the question.
Franks: As would I.
Apollo: Madam President, are you taking chamalla again?
Roslin: Yes, I am.
(The gallery murmurs.)
Apollo: No further questions.
Roslin: Mr. Adama, aren’t you going to ask me why?
Apollo: I’m sorry?
Roslin: Why am I taking chamalla again?
Apollo: It’s not strictly relevant.
Roslin: Well, perhaps it’s not relevant to you, but it’s relevant to me. Go ahead. Ask me why. Finish what you started.
Apollo: Why are you taking the chamalla again, Madam President?
Roslin: I am taking chamalla again because my cancer has returned.
(Gasps from the crowd.)
(Dee angrily packs her bags.)
Apollo: You know, the fact that she’s having hallucinations is relevant to Baltar’s defense. That’s the way the system works, Dee. The accused has a right to challenge the credibility of witnesses against him. That’s just the way it is.
Dualla: The system is broken, Lee. The system elected that man to be President, and the system’s trying to let him walk. That is not a system that deserves to be defended. It deserves to be taken apart and put back together again.
Apollo: You know, I wish… I wish I could make you understand.
Dualla: I do understand, Lee. And it’s why I’m leaving.
Apollo: Well, you don’t. You frakkin’ don’t!
Colonial one, Press Conference
Reporter: Madam President, how long have you known about the cancer?
Roslin: About a week.
Reporter: And how advanced is the disease?
Reporter: Uh, will you be getting any more transfusions from the half-Cylon donor?
Roslin: You know, this is the kind of detail I’m not gonna go into now. You know, we’re looking at a game plan. I’ll let you know when we have one.
Reporter: Well, how will the treatment for your illness impact your duties as president?
Roslin: So far, it hasn’t at all.
Reporter: Are you currently taking chamalla extract?
Tory: Don’t answer that.
Reporter: How often do you hallucinate?
Tory: All right, enough of this crap. We’re done here.
Tory: You vultures can go pick over another carcass.
Roslin: Tory! Come here. I’ll see you inside. Thank you.
(Laura sends Tory out of the conference and chuckles.)
Roslin: I’m sorry. Temperatures are running a little high in the fleet these days. Who’s next? Karen.
Karen: Madam President. How long do you have to live?
Roslin: How long do you have to live, Karen?
Tory: You handled that well.
Roslin: You didn’t. “Pick over another carcass”? As opposed to mine? That’s gonna look good in the press.
Tory: I… I don’t even know why I said that.
Roslin: What is up with you? You’ve been off your game for days. You’re distracted. You’re exhausted. You’re just–you know, frankly, you’re plain obnoxious.
Tory: I just haven’t been sleeping very well.
Roslin: You need to pull it together and focus on your job fast. Or I can find someone who can handle the press. As well a pull a comb through their hair once a week.
(Saul goes nuts as the music plays, lying on the floor in a drunken mess.)
(They look at the strategy table.)
Gaeta: We’re using the tylium ship as a decoy to lead the Cylons along this course here, almost directly opposite to ours. When they reach this point here, they’ll recalibrate their FTL, start jumping back to rendezvous with Galactica and the rest of the Fleet here, at the Ionian Nebula.
Helo: Any indication the Cylons are following them?
Gaeta: Nothing yet, and it would appear they’ve stopped following us as well. Our trailing Raptor has yet to pick up any sign of pursuit since the tylium ship left the fleet.
Helo: How many jumps till we reach the nebula?
Gaeta: Uh, it’s hard to believe. We’re down to the last three.
Gaeta: Uh, anything else, sir?
Helo: No, no, I was just, uh… Just remembering back on Caprica when the weather was about to change, you’d — you’d get this smell in the air. I mean, the sun could be out, not a cloud in the sky, but you’d pick up this smell and you knew that, um, something was just over the horizon. Weather’s changing, Felix. We need to be ready for it. There’s a storm coming.
(Tigh scrabbles around, listening to the walls. The music is getting louder.)
Tigh: It’s in the ship. It’s in the frakkin’ ship!
Transcript taken by Ryan Bechtel
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