Battlestar Galactica s03e16 Episode Script

Previously on "Battlestar Galactica": I demand my rights, as a Colonial citizen, to legal representation and due process.
Do you? - So what happens next? - We give him his trial.
My father was a priest, my mother an oracle.
I've served on battlestars since I was 18.
When you elected me union president, I promised I would keep us working.
Throw your body on the gears, the levers, on the machine itself and make it stop.
Chief! Chief! Chief! Chief! We try to pretend our lives are exactly like they were before we went to New Caprica.
- But it is different.
- We're just going through a rough patch.
What if rough patches are all we have left? Figurski, Pollux, Sanchez - you're gonna be rehabbing mule engines tonight.
Set the hull SOL checks rigs to SEC.
Thought we were subbing out maintenance to civvies.
Don't got enough mechanics down there.
- Check flow rate.
- Flow rate steady at 2-9-0.
When are we getting some rec? I did double watches for two weeks.
- I know, I know.
- Plus, I still got the ringing in my ears.
Whoo-hoo-hoo! Sorry, I can't hear you.
I've got ringing.
What's that? Real funny, guys.
- Fuse indicators are out.
- Set the wing tank switch to fuel.
Power off.
All right, tank off.
That's it.
Kill the fuelling station.
Pull the hose.
LT, you're tanked up and ready to roll.
Roger that, Chief.
Ready to roll.
Laundry call.
Figurski, Pollux, Redford - grab your crap before I chuck it in the 'cycler.
- Fold my undies the way I like? - Frak off.
Nice mouth.
You think they let officers talk like that? Gonna have to change when you get them wings.
I'm not getting wings.
They rejected my application for flight training.
I thought you aced the exam.
Interview went well? It turns out I'm in a "critical position" and my leaving would cause "severe mission degradation".
- That sucks.
- Critical position, my ass! They just don't want knuckle-draggers stinking up the pilot ready room.
All right, that's enough.
Lock it up.
The CAG told me you got bounced from flight training.
I'm sorry - it sucks.
We need you here - you're our best avionics specialist.
And she knows how to fold a man's undies.
- Hey! - You frak.
- Enough! Get off.
- I'll take you apart! Shut up, Figurski, or I'll pump you in the mouth myself.
Now get back to work.
- Come here.
- Let go of me.
Hey, hey, hey.
Listen to me.
Look, you do important work down here - just as important as sitting in a cockpit.
Thanks, Chief.
I'm gonna deliver some more "important" laundry.
Raptor away.
Readings nominal.
Everything looks good.
Setting course heading 2-9-6-5 - What the frak? - It's a flameout! RCS thruster's jammed.
Restart.
No go! "Galactica", Skulls.
Engine thruster stuck in full position.
Engine one won't start.
There's a fire in engine two.
It's gonna blow.
Get your ass up here.
Eject! Eject! Eject! We got off lucky - a dozen injuries, no fatalities.
Thank you.
You should've seen Tory's shoulder.
I had to help Cottle put it back into alignment.
You know, I am so busy, I hardly ever make it down to this end of the ship.
And now I'm gonna be living here until they repair the bulkheads.
If the quarters become cramped, you're always welcome in one of my beds.
In a manner of speaking.
- Any idea what happened to your Raptor? - We're still investigating.
But it seems that the tylium was seriously contaminated with impurities.
Most likely it's a problem with the refining process.
What's going on? The refinery used to be our most reliable ship.
Now every day I start with a stack of messages from that chief - Xeno Fenner.
- Fenner.
complaining about working conditions and deliveries and, uh spare parts and compensation - if you can believe that.
We're on the run for our lives, and the guy wants to talk about overtime bonuses.
We've been more than patient with Fenner and his production problems - two weeks of waiting for him to get his act together.
I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get back on the road to finding Earth.
Is that a hint of hope I hear? Is the sceptic suddenly decided that we're on the road to Earth after all? Have I ever doubted it? I've had people working 18-hour shifts for the past six months.
How long can a man keep that up? If the Cylons show up, we have enough fuel to jump the entire fleet, what, once? - Mm-hm.
- Maybe twice.
That's a margin that's much too narrow for me.
How about for you and your men? You have a problem, fix it.
Just get the gas flowing.
And then we'll talk, I promise you that.
"Then we'll talk.
" It's always later.
You know, it's funny that when the gas flows, my phone calls don't get returned, but the minute there's a glitch in supply, I've got face time with the president and the admiral.
Hmm.
Maybe we should just start having more glitches.
- Is that a threat? - It's like the book says: "If you hear the people, you'll never have to fear the people.
" - Did you say "the book"? - Mm-hm.
Guards, arrest him - for extortion and interrupting vital services during a time of war.
Go ahead, take him away.
Go.
Out of here.
Guard.
Come with me, sir.
- What the hell was that? - He was quoting from Baltar's book.
The ramblings that his lawyer smuggled out of the brig? He's having it reprinted and passed out among the fleet, and he's calling it My Triumphs, My Mistakes by Gaius Baltar.
I am thinking of having a good old-fashioned book-burning.
Algae meatloaf - starting to be a favourite.
It's not for you.
Remember our little talk? Oh, but today's my cheat day.
The last three days have been your cheat day.
Really? Eugh.
You were moving better yesterday.
Is that how the bends are supposed to work? I'm just upset about Seelix, so I'm tensing up.
They should've told her right off the bat what the fleet priorities are.
Should've said that they needed knuckle-draggers more than pilots.
It isn't about fleet priorities.
We're not the ruling class, so we're stuck doing the dirty work.
- "Ruling class"? Where'd you get that? - Something I read.
By Baltar.
His frakking rag's going around? I can't believe anybody'd read anything by him.
That's what I thought too, but Ever wonder why all the pilots and the officers come from the rich colonies like Caprica and Virgon and Tauron, while all the knuckle-draggers come from the poor colonies like Aerelon and Sagitarron and Gemenon? - Yeah, that's just trash talk on the deck.
- Really? Name one officer that comes from a poor colony.
Lieutenant Dualla's from Sagitarron.
Case in point! How did she get promoted? She married an officer from Caprica.
Tyrol.
The foreman at the fuel refinery's just been arrested.
- Xeno Fenner? - Know him? - Did something happen to Xeno? - Arrested.
Yes, sir.
He was in the union on New Caprica.
He seemed like a good guy.
- What'd he do? - He pissed off the president.
The bigger problem is the refining operation.
I need someone to get that fuel ship moving again.
Pick a team and be on the hangar deck in an hour.
Yes, sir.
- What happened to Xeno? - He pissed off the president.
- You can get arrested for that now? - I think the admiral was kidding.
Yeah! - You ever think about the union? - Sure, but that's gone now.
New Caprica's gone, but all the people in the union are still here.
The only difference is, now they don't have anyone to stand up for them.
I gotta go.
I do hope you're enjoying yourselves.
It's not enough that you have to interrupt my sleep, now you have to destroy my stuff as well.
You're pathetic! You're utterly and totally Hello, Doctor.
Why don't you do yourself a favour? Hand over the pages and stop all this nonsense.
- I don't know what you're talking about.
- Turn him around.
The pages to your book, My Triumphs, My Mistakes by Gaius Baltar.
So you've read it.
The people are reading it, and now you're sorry.
We knew your lawyer was smuggling the pages out, so we intercepted them.
I'm the only one who's read the book, and I am dying to see how it ends.
Really, what were you thinking, casting yourself as a man of the people, a son of a farmer, a revolutionary? Oh, please.
It may come as a surprise, but I wished to strike a chord with the common man.
Hand over those pages, or I'll have these guards search you.
Make a choice.
Gentlemen, proceed.
Don't bend to her, Gaius.
Show her that she can't break you.
Keep your dignity.
Perhaps you'd consider writing a blurb for the back cover.
Thank you, Doctor.
Close the cell.
It's all right, Gaius.
Everything will be OK.
- Tyrol.
- Cabott.
Hey.
How are you doing? Good to see you.
- Sorry.
- Never mind.
It's inevitable.
Listen, we all started feeling a lot better when we heard they were sending you.
- Oh, yeah? - You bet.
I've been telling everybody how the union on New Caprica stood up for the little guy.
Yeah, well You're looking at the fleet's entire supply of tylium.
- How many jumps we got? - We'll be lucky if we get outta the system.
You'd better give us the nickel tour, see where we stand.
Second shift, report for duty at starboard bay five.
- It's a big operation.
- You should see it when it's running.
Loud as an A-bomb, and just about as safe.
Listen, we really need this downtime.
I mean, look around.
Next time some machine fraks up, it might not just take out a Raptor.
This ship really is a big bomb just waiting to go up.
I understand the risk, but I need to see it working, so pull your guys off, and let's fire it up.
It ain't gonna work.
- You work here? - This is Milo, the best grease jockey I got.
Milo, huh? So why is it not gonna work? Something you guys aren't telling me? Come on.
OK.
I guess I'm just gonna have to have a look for myself.
Is that pressure relief? - The seals are missing.
- They all are.
Without pressure seals, the machinery won't run.
Where are they? Guess they got lost, huh? You can't frak around.
The admiral won't stand for it.
- The admiral can kiss my ass! - Hey! Hey! Come on, Chief, you know what this is about.
When working conditions improve and they let Xeno out, we'll find those seals.
Until then, it looks like this ship isn't gonna be refining another drop of tylium.
And that means this fleet isn't going anywhere.
I've executed a search of the ship, but the seals have not turned up.
You know that this is sabotage.
I'm inclined to have them locked up.
Please.
They could've rigged something to have me injured.
They could have contaminated the fuel on purpose, left our ships dead in the air.
- Good gods! - All they did do was buy some time.
The machinery needs overhauling.
There's a reason quality control is failing.
Do you realise most of the workers on that ship have not had a day off since the original attack on the Colonies? - It's like slave labour.
- Don't be absurd.
The people aboard that ship are stuck there.
- They have no control over their lives.
- And the work is hard, we know that.
Do they think they're having a picnic on the algae-processing plant, or munitions? The fleet is full of people working under horrific conditions.
- Nobody's having a good time.
- I think that if we at least release Xeno, talk to them about improving working and living conditions, that the protest will go away, they'll return the seals, and we'll get the fuel problem under control.
Extortion is not an acceptable method of protest.
What are the names of the leaders? - Just Cabott.
- I will issue a warrant for his arrest.
Put him in the brig, let him sweat it out.
Admiral, Madam President, they're just trying to Chief, uh-uh.
We're done.
I'm gonna go check on Cabott and Xeno.
Chief.
- Hey.
- Hey.
You gotta get him outta here.
- What the hell happened to his hands? - He was scratching the walls.
- He kept scratching until his fingers bled.
- I won't say.
He was in Cylon detention on New Caprica, you remember? He came out all squirrelly, and this is not helping.
You gotta get him outta here.
It doesn't matter.
I won't say.
- Where are the seals? - Oh, you son of a bitch.
- Come on.
- Galen, you gotta get him outta here.
- Cabott? - No, I won't - Cabott, look at me! - I won't Cabott, where are the seals? - I won't say.
It doesn't matter.
- I can get you outta here.
- Tell me where the seals are.
- I won't say.
- For gods' sake, get him out of here! - Where where are the seals? - Where are they? - It doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter! - Where are the seals? - It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter! - Where are they? - The air vent! All right? - They're in the centre stern air vent! - Tell the president to release them.
Frak! All right, that's the last one.
Let's fire this up, get back to work.
Yes, sir.
Whatever you say, boss.
Hey, hey, hey, hey! Can I throw the switch? - How old are you? - 12.
Almost.
But I can run every machine we got.
Only thing I haven't done is turn the whole thing on.
It's all yours.
Workers to your stations.
All workers to your stations.
- There are kids down there.
- There's children on every ship.
These children work in the refinery.
They're 12, 15 years old.
There have been families aboard the refinery since its beginning, and others were picked up after the Cylons attacked the Colonies.
Over the past two years, parents have taught children how to operate the machinery - they have passed along their skills.
It is perfectly normal.
It is not ideal, I know that.
But there's nothing ideal about this fleet! Do you see what's happening? Jobs are starting to be inherited, Madam President.
We don't know how long we'll be here.
What if it's ten years? So I train my son to be a deck hand because that's what I am, and that's all he can ever be? Is that the future we want? That's a really good point.
Make a list of everyone who has a work history appropriate to the refinery - factory workers, mechanics, whatever you think.
Give it to the chief, and I want you to hold a public lottery.
We will take people from other vessels and put them on shifts in the refinery.
How's that, Chief? - Thank you.
- Thank you.
So that's our allotment from Dogsville.
We'll get these people outta here before they know where they're going.
- All right, people - Excuse me.
Sir? Hi.
I don't know who I'm supposed to talk to about this, but I don't think I'm what you guys are looking for.
I don't really have the skills.
- What's your name? - Daniel Noon.
Figurski.
Noon? Noon.
Noon Noon, Daniel.
Says you're a farmer.
We need people to work with heavy machinery.
No, but I don't.
Not really.
I worked on a farm for a summer cos I was saving to go to college, architecture, but then the Cylons attacked.
And now I'm a farmer? How is that fair? How is it in any way fair? Just give me a second.
We make an exception for him, there'll be 15 more right behind him.
Look at him, though.
He's a kid.
Fine.
Put him on the ship.
Look, this is just a temporary thing, OK? Wait.
Hold on.
I'm not a farmer.
- It's not permanent.
- Can you just check my record? - Yeah.
- Who am I supposed to talk to about this? Who am I supposed to talk to about this? I'm not a farmer! Hey, stop it! I'm not a farmer! - What are you doing here? - Your book: Fact or fiction? So you read it? Well, that proves that the president's an accomplished liar.
She told me it hadn't gone out.
So, what do you make of it? I think that it's a pile of crap.
Obviously, my analysis of a bifurcated society scares you.
But everything in my book happens to be true.
Oh, it's true? It's true that you're a farm boy from Aerelon? It is, as a matter of fact.
I was born and raised on a dairy outside the town of Cuttlesbreath Wash on Aerelon.
Why do I have such a hard time picturing you milking cows and shovelling manure? Lack of imagination? Or maybe that your little tale is manure.
Hm? I've known people from Aerelon.
You don't sound anything like them.
- I don't sound like I'm from Aerelon? - No.
Well, I take that as a particular compliment.
I don't know about you, but I find the Aerelon dialect to be particularly hard on the ears.
The consonants scrape the back of the throat.
I know a lot about my native tongue.
I spent hours on end trying to overcome it.
Do you have any idea how hard it is for a ten-year-old boy to change the way he speaks? To unlearn everything he ever learned, so that one day one day there might be the small hope that he might be considered as not coming from Aerelon? Maybe, I don't know, Caprica.
Caprica? Oh, to be Caprican.
The seat of politics, culture, art, science, learning.
And what was Aerelon? Just a drab, ugly rock condemned to be the food basket for the 12 worlds.
And that's how we were treated - like servants, like labourers, like working class.
You know, you would have fitted right in there.
Lots of men who liked to work with their hands, and grab a pint down the pub, and finish off the evening with a good old-fashioned fight.
Oh, yes I left Aerelon after my 18th birthday.
I turned my back on my family, on my heritage All of them.
Of course, it doesn't matter, they're all dead now.
You do realise that none of that exists here? Coming from the mouth of a mechanic! We've kept democracy.
We have government, we have rights, we have elections Well, then you should feel perfectly happy, perfectly at ease! Go home, leave me in peace.
That's what the aristocracy wants.
It wants the working class to feel looked after, while they scrabble around for scraps from the master's table! There's a question I ask at the end of my book.
I'll save you the trouble of reading it.
"Will the fleet ever be commanded by somebody whose name is not Adama?" There it is, Chief - one set of rules for the aristocracy, and one set of rules for the rest of us.
First shift of cleanup crew, report for duty in starboard bay.
We've assigned all the new workers from the lottery.
- Looks like you put 'em right to work.
- They're OK.
They're a little skittish, but they'll catch on.
Here's where we had the problem last time.
We got all kinds of gear slippage, temperature variations.
We didn't know the dross wasn't getting burned off.
- That's the bad fuel? - It's running now.
But we got other places on the line that could frak us.
What's that? - Hit the switch! - Not when it's jammed.
The system will seize up.
Gotta find it.
Otherwise, the ore still in the chambers will superheat and blow us all to hell.
Hurry! We gotta get this going.
Right here.
This is it.
- Got it? Get it out of there.
- Yeah.
- I can't get my hands around it.
- Give it a yank.
I can't get my hand on it! - Argh! - Careful.
Careful! - I can't get under it.
- We got some hot rocks up there.
You gotta get this thing started, fast! - Give it a yank! - I just can't get my hand around it.
I can't get my hand on it.
- I can try.
I can try - Get in there.
- I can probably fit.
- Come on.
If he clears it, the belt will jump.
Careful.
- Way in the back - There you go.
- You got it, you got it.
Attaboy.
- Be careful! Come on, Danny, get ahold of it.
Attaboy! Now grab it.
Pull it towards you.
Pull on it.
Pull on it.
Pull on it, Danny.
Yes! All right! - Good work, Danny.
- Get out of there.
Come on out.
Medic! Medic! Medic! Now! Take it easy, buddy.
We got you.
It's OK.
You did a great job.
- You're gonna be OK.
- You're gonna be OK.
You're gonna be OK.
I need more gauze.
Just calm down.
That's it.
Gimme some more.
This plant's offline! We're on strike! Action time.
- Need something, Captain? - I frakking do: My Viper.
Sorry, Captain, vital missions only.
CAP's already up.
We did our job.
- "Vital missions only"? - Whose orders? Cally relayed the orders from Chief Tyrol.
We're on strike.
Admiral.
Are you aware that your deck gang is participating in a work stoppage? - It's called a general strike, sir.
- It's a mutiny.
And do you know what we do with mutineers? We shoot them, Chief.
We're leaving people behind.
People who are locked into their jobs, have no control over their lives, no say.
- We're abandoning them to their fate.
- That is not the issue.
The men and women on this ship are not allowed to disobey an order, especially in support of some kind of frakking labour dispute.
We launched the CAP.
No one abandoned their post, no one's in danger.
This is mutiny.
And it stops now.
Admiral, all I want is a sit down with the president.
This is the admiral.
Arrest Cally Tyrol.
Take her under armed guard directly to the starboard repair bay.
- What are you doing? - I'm gonna put her against the bulkhead, and I'm gonna shoot her as a mutineer.
Are you outta your frakking mind?! Cally was following my orders.
She's a ringleader, so she goes first.
Then the rest of your deck gang: Figurski, Seelix, Pollux.
You won't do this.
- We have a son.
- Understand me: The very survival of this ship may depend on someone getting an order that they don't wanna do.
And if they hesitate, if they feel that orders are sometimes optional, then this ship will perish.
And so will your son.
And the entire human race.
I don't wanna do this, Chief.
But I will put ten Callys up against the wall to make sure that this ship and this fleet are not destroyed.
Fine.
I'll call it off.
This is the admiral.
Do you have Cally in custody? Put her on.
Open the door.
- You OK? - Don't worry.
I've been in the brig before.
Everything's OK.
Call off the strike.
Did they cave? Yeah.
Call it off.
I knew it.
I'll take care of it.
Galen, I'm proud of you.
Give the phone to the marine.
Release her.
You can go now, Chief.
I thought you had something that you wanted to discuss with the president.
- Would you like another drink? - I think I've had enough.
Madam President, I've seen people drafted into service based purely on where they were born.
They've also been selected based on their skills.
Which is a result of where they were born.
Capricans are more likely to be professionals.
Aerelons, farmers.
- It's just a fact of life.
- It's a fact I can't change.
True.
But I think we can level the playing field.
There are a lot of dirty jobs that need to be done every day in this fleet: Cleaning, hauling, low-level maintenance, things like that.
These are the kind of jobs that I think should be allocated to people Well, people like yourself - no offence.
None taken.
Go ahead.
Let some of the people on Colonial One get their hands dirty for a change.
Done.
What else? People that are in dangerous and high-stress jobs need R and R.
In order to do that, we need a formal training programme.
We can talk about a training programme later.
We need to focus on maintaining the workforce that we have, and this is gonna have to be an area where the union gives ground.
- The union? - Oh, I'm sorry.
I thought you were bargaining on behalf of the Colonial Workers' Alliance.
- If that's not the case, then - Madam President, that union died on New Caprica.
The workers in this fleet need someone to represent them and their interests.
And if this society is becoming truly polarised between an entrenched political class and a disenfranchised underclass, we are doomed.
We won't need Cylons to destroy us, we'll destroy ourselves.
The fleet that arrives at Earth will not represent Colonial society at all.
I am willing to fight for that society until my dying breath.
I would love it if you would fight for that society as well.
I will.
I will, Madam President.
I will.
Pollux and Herschel, you are on fuelling, 43-72.
- Chief Tyrol? - Hey, Captain.
A nugget failed to show up for flight instruction.
- I'm sorry to hear that, Captain.
- Maybe you can tell me where Seelix is.
Seelix.
Front and centre.
Flight instruction began 20 minutes ago, Seelix.
You wanna be a pilot or not? - Yes, sir, but I thought that - Think when I tell you to think.
Look at the plan of the day - then you'd know where you're supposed to be and may actually get there on time.
And you're out of uniform to boot.
- I'm sorry.
I think I can handle that.
- Thank you.
Hold this.
You have to be an officer to fly Vipers.
You know that.
Detail, hand salute.
Thank you, Chief.
Thank you.
- Congratulations, Ensign.
- Very touching.
But you were supposed to be in ready room four 20 minutes ago, which means that you are falling behind on your first day.
So move it.
Don't look at him! Move it! Move it! - Be nice.
- Oh! More religion.
Your soul is mine.