Original subtitles

[Tryol] Previously on Battlestar Galactica...

I demand my rights as a Colonial citizen

to legal representation and full due process.

Do you?

So what happens next?

We give him his trial.

My father was a priest. My mother was an oracle.

I've served on Battlestar since I was 18 years old.

When you elected me union president,

I promised I would keep us working.

You must throw your body on the gears

and on the levers and on the machine itself

and make it stop.

Strike! Strike!

Strike! Strike! Strike!

You're pretending like nothing's changed,

that our lives are exactly like they

were before we went to New Caprica.

But it isdifferent.

Yeah, we're just goin' through a little rough patch.

What if rough patches are all we have left?

[Tyrol] Figurski, Pollux, Sanchez,

you're gonna be rehabbing mule engines tonight

so don't make after-dinner plans.

Set and hold SOL check switch to SEC.

[Figurski] Thought we were subbing out mule maintenance

to the civies in Dogsville.

[Tyrol] Yeah, I don't got enough mechanics down there.

Check flow rate.

[Pollux] Flow rate's steady at two-niner-zero.

Hey, when we are getting some rack around here, Chief?

I'm standing double watches the last two weeks.

I know, I know.

Plus, I still got the ringin' in my ears.

[laughter] I can't hear.

[man] Whoo-hoo hoo!

[Figurski] I'm sorry. I can't hear you.

I've got ringin'. What's that?

[Pollux] Pretty funny, guys.

Okay, FUS indicators are out.

Set the wing tank switch to "Fuel."

Power off.

All right, tank off. That's it.

Kill the fueling station.

Pull the hose.

L.T., you're tanked up. You're ready to roll.

Roger that, Chief. Ready to roll.

[Seelix] Laundry call.

Figurski,

Pollux, Redford,

grab you crap before I chuck it in the 'cycler.

Fold my undies the way I like?

Frak off.

Oh, nice mouth.

Think they let officers talk like that?

Gonna have to change your ways when you get them wings.

I'm not getting wings.

They rejected my application for flight training.

But you aced the written exam.

Interview went well?

Yeah, well, in turns out I'm in a critical position

and my leaving would cause "severe mission degradation."

That sucks.

[Pollux] "Critical position" my ass.

They just don't want knuckle draggers

stinking up the pilot ready room.

[laughter]

[Tyrol] All right, that's enough.

Lock it up. That's enough.

Look, the CAG told me you got bounced from flight training.

I'm sorry about that. It sucks.

Truth is, we need you down here.

You're the best avionics specialist we got.

And she knows how to fold a man's undies.

Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Enough! Enough!

Hey, hey, enough!

Get off him! Get off him!

Hey, shut up, Figurski!

I'll pop you in the mouth myself.

Now get back to work.

Come here.

Hey! 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 two-niner-six-five...

[bang] [Skulls] What the frak?

[Racetrack] Flameout!

RCS Thruster's jammed.

Restart.

No go.

[Skulls] Galactica, Skulls.

Engine two thrusters stuck in full position.

Engine one won't start.

[Racetrack] There's a fire in engine two.

It's gonna blow.

Get your ass up here.

[suspenseful music]

♪

[Racetrack] EJECT-

EJECT-EJECT!

[Adama] 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 in alignment.

Oh...

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 for God knows how long

until they repair the bulkheads.

Well, if the quarters become cramped,

you're always welcome in one of my beds.

In a manner of speaking.

Do you have any better idea what happened to your Raptor?

We're still investigating the situation,

but it seems that the tylium

was seriously contaminated with impurities.

Most likely, it's a problem with the refining process.

What the hell's goin' on there?

The refinery used to be

the most reliable ship in the fleet.

Now every day, I start with a stack of messages

from their chief... what is his name?

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.

Well, we've been more than patient with Fenner

and his production problems.

Two weeks of sitting here,

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?

Has the skeptic suddenly decided

that we're on the road to Earth after all?

Have I ever doubted it?

I've got people working 18-hour shifts

for the past six months.

How long you think a man can keep that up?

If the Cylons show up, we have enough fuel

to jump the entire fleet... what, once?

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 the fuel supply,

I've got face time

with the President andthe 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-hmm.

Guards, arrest him

for extortion

and interrupting vital services

during a time of war.

Go ahead, take him away. That's it, go.

Out of here. Gone.

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.

Now I am thinking

of having a good, old-fashioned book-burning.

Ooh, how's the meat loaf?

Startin' to be a favorite.

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?

Eeh.

You were movin' better yesterday.

Is that how the bends are supposed to work?

I'm just upset about Seelix, so I'm tensing up.

They should have just told her right off the bat

what the fleet priorities are.

Should have said that they needed knuckle draggers

more than they need pilots.

It isn't about fleet priorities.

We're not part of the ruling class,

so we're stuck doing the dirty work.

"The ruling class"?

Where'd you get that?

Something I read.

By Baltar.

[Nicky coos]

Those frakking rags making their way around the fleet?

I can't believe that anybody's reading anything

written by that guy.

That's what I thought too, but...

do you ever wonder

why all the pilots and the officers

come from the rich colonies,

like Caprica, and Virgon, Tauron,

while all the knuckle draggers come from the poor colonies,

like, like Aerelon and Sagittaron

and Gemenon?

Yeah, that's just trash talk on the deck.

Really?

Name one officer on the fleet

that comes from a poor colony.

Dualla.

Lieutenant Dualla's from Sagittaron.

Case in point.

How did she get promoted?

She married an officer...

from Caprica.

[phone rings]

Tyrol.

[Adama] Chief, the foreman of the fuel refinery

has just been arrested.

[Tyrol] Xeno Fenner?

Do you know him?

Did something happen to Xeno?

[hushed tone] Arrested.

Uh, 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.

But the bigger problem right now

is the refining operation.

I need someone to go over there

and get that fuel ship moving again.

Pick a team, get your gear,

and be on the hangar deck in an hour.

Yes, sir.

I don't understand.

What happened to Xeno?

He pissed off the President.

What, you can get arrested for that now?

I think the Admiral was kidding.

[cooing]

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.

[Baltar] I do hope you're enjoying yourselves.

It's not enough that you have to interrupt my sleep

and put filth in my food.

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 favor?

Hand over the pages and stop all this nonsense.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Turn him around.

[Laura] 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've known that your lawyer

was smuggling the pages out here for weeks,

so we intercepted them.

And I'm afraid I'm the only one

who's read the book,

and I am dying to see how it ends.

Really, what were you thinking though?

Casting yourself as a man of the people,

the son of a farmer.

A revolutionary.

Oh, please.

It may come as some surprise to you, Madame President,

but I wish 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'll consider writing a blurb

for the back cover.

Thank you, Doctor.

[man] Close cell.

It's all right, Gaius.

Everything'll be okay.

Tyrol.

Cabott, hey. How you doin'?

Good to see you.

[chuckles] Sorry.

It's inevitable.

Listen, hey, I gotta tell ya,

we all started feelin' a lot better

when we heard they were sending you.

Oh, yeah? You bet.

I've been talking you up, tellin' everybody how...

how the union on New Caprica

really stood up for the little guy.

Yeah, well...

[Cabott] You're looking at the fleet's entire fuel supply of tylium.

[Tyrol] How many jumps you think we got?

Heh, we'll be lucky if we get out of the system.

[Tyrol] Well, you better give us the nickel tour,

see where we stand.

It's a big operation.

Yeah, well, you should see this place

when it's up and running.

It's loud as an A-bomb, just about as safe.

[Cabott] 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...

it really is a big bomb just waitin' to go up.

Yeah, look, I understand the risk,

but I need to see it workin', so pull your guys off

and let's, uh, let's fire it up.

It ain't gonna work.

You work here?

This is Milo.

He's the best, uh, grease jockey I got.

Milo, huh?

Tell me, Milo, so why is it not gonna work?

Is there something you guys aren't telling me?

Come on.

Okay.

Guess I'm just gonna have to have a look for myself.

Is that pressure relief?

Seals are missing.

They all are.

Without pressure seals, the machinery won't run.

Well, where are they?

Guess they got lost, huh?

Guys, you can't be frakkin' around with this stuff.

The Admiral won't stand for it.

The Admiral can kiss my ass.

Hey, hey.

Come on, Chief. You know what this is about.

I guess when working conditions improve,

they let Xeno outta jail,

we'll be able to 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.

[Tyrol] I've executed a search of the ship,

but the seals have not turned up.

You know that this was sabotage.

I'm inclined to have them locked up.

Sir, please.

They could have rigged something

to have me injured.

They could have contaminated the fuel on purpose

and left all of our ships dead in the air.

Good gods.

All they did do was buy themselves some time.

Look.

The machinery does need overhauling.

There's a reason that the quality control is failing.

You realize that most

of the workers on that ship have not had a day off

since the original attack on our colonies?

It's like slave labor.

Don't be absurd.

The men and women aboard that ship

are stuck there.

They can't leave. They can't transfer.

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 or waste-processing?

The fleet is filled with ships

with people working under horrific conditions,

and nobody's having a good time.

Well, I think that if we at least release Xeno

and start talking to them

about improving working conditions

and living conditions, that the protest will go away.

They'll return the pressure seals,

and we'll get

the fuel contamination 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.

Have him sweat it out.

[sighs]

Admiral, Madame President, they're just trying to...

Chief, uh-huh. We're done.

[sighs]

I'm gonna go check on Cabott and Xeno.

[door opens]

[Fenner] Hey.

Hey.

You gotta get him outta here.

[mumbling]

What the hell happened to his hands?

I wake up in the middle of the night,

he's scratching the walls.

Just keeps scratching them till his fingers are bleeding.

[Cabott] Say it doesn't matter.

[Fenner] He was in Cylon detention on New Caprica,

you remember?

He came out squirrelly, and this is not helping.

Come on.

You gotta get him outta here.

[mumbling]

[sighs]

Where are the seals?

Oh, you son of a bitch. Come on.

Come on, Galen!

You got get him outta here.

Cabott!

Cabott, look at me!

[mumbling]

Cabott, listen to me.

Where are the seals?

I wouldn't say. It doesn't matter.

Cabott, I can get you out of here.

Where are the seals? Tell me where the seals are.

Where are the seals?

Galen, for God's sakes, get him outta here!

Where? Where are the seals?

Where are they?!

It doesn't m... it doesn't matter!

It doesn't matter!

Look at him! Where are the seals?

It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter!

Where are they?! It doesn't matter!

The air vent, all right?

They're in the center stern air vent!

Tell the President to release them.

Frak!

[Cabott hyperventilates]

Damn it.

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.

[machines whirring, bell ringing]

[Tyrol] There are kids down there, Madame President.

There's children on every ship in the fleet.

These children work in the refinery.

They're 12, 15 years old.

There have been families aboard the refinery

ever since its beginning, and others were picked up

after the Cylons attacked the colonies.

Over the past two years,

the parents have been teaching the children

how to operate the machinery.

They have been passing along their skills.

It is perfectly normal.

It is not ideal, I know that.

But there is nothing ideal about this fleet.

Do you see what's happening?

The jobs are starting to be inherited, Madam President.

I mean, we don't know how long we're gonna be on these ships.

What if it's ten years?

So I-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.

Tory,

I want you to make a list of everyone in the fleet

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.

And we will take people from other vessels,

and we will put them on shifts in the refinery.

How's that, Chief?

Thank you.

Thank you.

[Tyrol] So that's our allotment from Dogsville.

Get these people on these ships and out of here

before they know where they're going.

[Figurski] All right, people! Let's go!

Excuse me, sir?

Hi, um... I don't really know

who I'm supposed to talk to you about this,

but I don't really think

I'm what you guys are looking for.

I don't really have the skills.

What's your name?

Uh, Danny Noon.

Figurski.

Noon?

Noon.

Noon...

"Noon, Daniel."

Says you're a farmer.

Farmer... yeah, that's what we're looking for,

people to work with heavy machinery.

No, but I don't. Not really.

I worked on a farm for a summer

'cause I was saving up to go to college... architecture.

But then, Cylons attacked,

and now I'm a farmer?

How is that fair?

How is that in any way fair?

Just give me a second.

We make an exception for this guy,

there's gonna be 15 more right behind him.

Look at him though. He's a kid.

Well...

Fine. Put him in the ship.

Uh, look...

this is just a temporary thing, okay?

Uh, wait. Hold on.

I am not a farmer.

Yeah. It's not permanent.

No... Wait.

Can you just check my record? Yeah.

I... no. Excuse me.

Who am I supposed to talk to about this?

Who am I supposed to talk to about this?

You don't understand. 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?

Yes, it is, as a matter of fact.

I was born and raised on a dairy

outside the town of Cuffle's Breath Wash

on Aerelon.

Why do I have such a hard time

picturing you milking cows and shoveling manure?

Lack of imagination.

Or maybe that your little tale is manure.

Eh...

I've known people from Aerelon.

You don't...

sound anything like them.

I don't sound like I'm from Aerelon? No.

Well, you know, I take that as a particular compliment.

I don't know about you,

but I've always found the Aerelon dialect

to be particularly hard on the ears.

Something about the consonants

that scrape the back of the throat.

Of course, I should know an awful 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.

Caprican. Oh, to be Caprican.

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 laborers,

like working class.

You know, you'd have fitted

right in there, Chief:

lots of men who liked to work with their hands

and, uh, grab a pint down at 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... that.

They're all dead now.

You do realize that none of that exists here.

[laughs] 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, shouldn't you?

Perfectly at ease.

Go home. Leave me in peace.

After all, 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.

Do you honestly believe that the fleet

will ever be commanded

by somebody whose last 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.

[door closes]

[man over P.A.] We need to have a cleanup crew report for duty

in the starboard bay.

[Fenner] We've given assignments

to all the new workers from the lottery.

[Tyrol] Looks like you put 'em right to work.

Yeah, yeah. They're okay.

They're a little skittish, but they'll catch on.

Right up here's where we had the problem last time.

Got all kinds of gear slippage,

temperature variations.

We didn't know the dross wasn't getting burned off.

That's your bad fuel?

Yeah, it's running now.

We've got half a dozen other places

on the line that could frak us.

[wham]Whoa, what's that?

Whoa, that's it!

Hit the switch!

No, no, no, not when it's jammed.

The whole system will seize up.

Gotta find it, otherwise the ore

still in the chamber will superheat

and set off a chain reaction

that'll blow us all to hell.

Hurry!

We gotta get this going!

Right here. This is it.

[Fenner] You got it? Yeah.

Get it out of there.

I can't get my hand around it.

Come on. Just give it a yank.

I can't get my hand on it!

Ow!

Careful! Careful! Ah!

It's too small. I can't get under it.

Hey, we got some hot rocks up there!

You gotta get this thing started, fast!

[Fenner] Give it a yank! 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.

[Tyrol] Get in there.

I can probably fit.

Come on, Danny!

If he clears it, the belt's gonna jump,

so you gotta be careful.

There he goes.

[Fenner] There you go.

[Tyrol] You got it. You got it.

Attaboy. Be careful.

Come on, Danny. Get it movin'.

That's it!

Thattaboy, Now! Grab it.

Now pull it. Pull it towards you.

Pull hard, Danny. Pull hard!

Pull it hard. There it is.

[rumbling]

[cheers and applause]

All right!

Good work, Danny. Good work.

[Fenner] Attaboy, Danny. Get outta there.

Come on out.

Come on out. Come on out.

Come on out. Aah! Aah!

Medic! Aah!

Medic!

Aah!

Medic, now!

Aah! Take it easy, buddy.

We got ya. We're gonna lay you down.

[distorted voices]

[Danny screams]

[Fenner] It's okay, buddy.

Great job. Fix you up.

[Danny screams]

[Fenner] You're gonna be okay.

I need more gauze. Just calm down.

[screeching, rumbling]

[machines powering down]

This plant is off-line!

We're on strike!

[cheers and applause]

[Pollux] No, no, no, no.

Action time.

Need somethin', Captain?

Yeah, I frakkin' need somethin'. I need my Viper.

[Pollux] Sorry, Captain.

Vital missions only.

CAP's already up. We did our job.

What do you mean,

"vital missions only"?

Whose orders?

[Pollux] 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, Admiral.

People are locked into their jobs.

They have no control over their lives.

They have no say.

We're abandoning them to their fate.

It's like we've marooned them on a planet.

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 labor dispute.

We launched the CAP.

No one has abandoned their post.

We're not putting anyone 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.

Repair bay? What are you doing?

I'm gonna put her up against the bulkhead,

and I'm gonna shoot her

as a mutineer.

Are you out of your frakkin' mind?

Cally was just following my orders.

She's a ringleader, so she goes first.

And then the rest of your dead 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 want to 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 want to 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 okay?

[Cally] Don't worry about me. I've been in the brig before.

[Tyrol] Everything's okay. Call off the strike.

Did they cave?

Yeah.

Call it off.

I knew it. Okay, 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?

[Tyrol] I think I've had enough.

Madame 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 are more likely to be 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 who...

[sighs]

[chuckles]

well, people like yourself, no offense.

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 to be rotated out for R and R.

And in order to do that,

we need a formal training program.

We can talk about a training program later,

but right now, 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?

I'm sorry.

I thought you were engaged in collective bargaining

on behalf of the Colonial Worker's Alliance.

If that's not the case, then...

Madame President,

that union died under Caprica.

Chief, the workers in this fleet,

they need someone to represent them

and their interests.

And if this society is becoming truly polarized

between an entrenched political class

and a disenfranchised underclass,

we are doomed.

We won't need the 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.

Hmm.

I will.

I will, Madame President, I will.

Pollux and Herschel,

you are on, uh, fueling 4372.

[Kara] Chief Tyrol?

Hey, Captain.

Chief, one of my nuggets failed to show up

for basic flight instruction this morning.

I'm sorry to hear that, Captain.

So maybe you can tell me

where the hell Diana Seelix is.

Seelix, front and center.

Flight instruction began 20 minutes ago, Seelix.

You wanna be a pilot or not?

Yes, sir, but I thought...

You will think when I tell you to think, Nugget.

And you might want to look at the Plan of the Day

'cause then maybe you'll know where you're supposed to be

and you might actually get there on time.

And you're out of uniform to boot.

Oh, I'm sorry, Captain. I think I can handle that.

[Kara] Thank you, Chief.

Hold this.

You have to be an officer to fly Vipers.

You know that.

Detail.

And salute.

Thank you, Chief.

Thank you.

Congratulations, Ensign.

All right, this is all very touching,

but you were supposed to be in Ready Room Four

20 minutes ago, Ensign, 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.

The soul is mine.