All language subtitles for Battlestar.Galactica.S03E15.AMZN.WEB-DL.English.US.SDH.ENG

[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.