01x10 - The Hand of God

Episode transcripts for the TV show "Battlestar Galactica". Aired: October 18, 2004 –; March 20, 2009.*
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The Galactica, led by William, protects a group of civilians - led by president Laura - in search of a mythical planet called Earth.
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01x10 - The Hand of God

Post by bunniefuu »

Previously on Battlestar Galactica.

Your doctor back on Caprica was right.

It's too damn late to operate. The cancer is too far advanced.

Have you ever heard of Chamalla extract?

It means that you're still acting like you're everyone's best friend.

We're not friends. You're the CAG.

Chief wanted me to kick your ass out of bed.

But, clearly, you still need the rest. So take your time. No rush.

I need new pilots. And I want you to train them.

I can do that.

They slipped through. How's that possible?

She thinks she loves him now... That she can't live without him.

Bothers you, doesn't it? We'll get them in the end.

I can assure you the fuel shortage is our number one priority.

Galacticahas ships scouring the nearby star systems, and we can anticipate that they will soon find tylium.

Hamilton.

Madame President, tylium ore is extremely rare.

If we don't find any, how long before the fleet runs out of fuel?

That all depends on how well we conserve.

Isn't it a fact, Madame President, that we only have enough for two more jumps?

Yes. That is correct.

Do we have a contingency plan if we run out of tylium?

We would...

If-If that were to happen... we would use our last fuel... to jump to the nearest planetary system.

And pray we're lucky enough to find a habitable planet.

Madame President, without fuel to take even the most basic evasive maneuvers...

No.

...wouldn't we be like ducks in a Cylon sh**ting gallery?

Yes, we would.

I'm...

I'm sorry.

That is all for now.

Commencing sweep 87 of asteroid field.

Any luck?

How many times are you gonna ask me that, Boomer?

Well, until you find some tylium ore.

Don't you want to be a hero to Ensign Davis?

Mmm.

You haven't noticed how she always sits next to you in the mess?

"How's it going, Crash? Oh, you're so cute."

Damn it. There's so much debris in this system, the DRADIS is useless.

This is going to take 100 years.

I heard how you found water, how you saved the whole fleet...

Come on.

Jackpot! Boomer, that asteroid dead ahead is a mountain of tylium.

Check it.

Thank the Gods! We're heroes. Yeah.

"We're heroes." It never fails.

Great, the second that I score, the bus driver jumps in and takes the credit.

Okay, so who's the one that we suggest... - What?

Cylons.

The rock's crawling with them.

We are well and truly frakked.

Only tylium within 12 light years, and we've got to kiss it good-bye.

Yeah, along with our asses if we don't get out of here fast.

It figures the Cylons would be sitting on the only source of fuel within our reach.

Still staking out every water hole in the desert.

Only this time it's a lake... with enough tylium to last us a couple years.

This must be some kind of conveyor belt... to get the ore from the mine here into this cracking plant here.

A refinery this far from their home world?

Why not? They need fuel as much as we do.

Now they've got it.

And enough firepower to keep it.

All right. So we forget this asteroid, find another source.

You can bet your ass the Cylons will be guarding that one too.

We send the Raptors out farther.

Ten, 15 jumps. Find a source they haven't reached yet.

And use up all our fuel doing it. How're we going to get our refinery ship...

We take the tylium from the Cylons.

With all respect, this is hardly a time to att*ck a superior force.

It's exactly the time.

We know where they are. They don't know where we are.

We'll catch them with their pants down.

If we fail...

End of game.

So we don't fail.

When the m*ssile gets close enough... you'll be pulling maybe 7 G's.

But to catch you, the bastard's gonna have to pile on 40 to 60.

Its guidance system can't hack it, and it'll miss... most of the time.

Exactly how often is "most of the time"?

It depends on your judgment, and how well you pray.

Attention on deck.

As you were.

Lt. Thrace, can I have a word?

Of course. Take five, guys.

What's up? How are they doing?

Wobbly as newborn colts, but they're getting stronger.

That's good.

Got a job for you.

Rumor mill has it that you're planning an op.

Rumor mill's right for a change.

Capt. Adama and Col. Tigh are working up the plan now... and I need some serious out-of-the-box thinking.

Out-of-the-box is where I live.

I've been taking Chamalla for a medical condition.

So what have you seen?

It started out as dreams of the Cylon that we had ex*cuted.

But I had the dreams before we captured him.

The images were... Prescient?

Uncanny.

And now I am seeing things while I'm awake.

What kind of things? Snakes.

There were snakes crawling all over my podium during a press conference.

How many?

About a dozen.

You're kidding, right?

You read Pythia, and now you're having me on.

No.

Who is Pythia? - One of the oracles in the sacred scrolls.

3,600 years ago...

Pythia wrote about the exile and the rebirth of the human race.

And the lords anointed a leader... to guide the caravan of the heavens to their new homeland.

And unto the leader they gave a vision... of serpents, numbering two and ten... as a sign of things to come.

Pythia wrote that?

She also wrote that the new leader suffered a wasting disease... and would not live to enter the new land.

But you're not dying. Are you?

And that will allow the att*ck force to wipe out these installations here.

Now, if we do it right, there will not be any Cylon survivors.

And the asteroid will be ours.

What do you think, Starbuck?

It's a textbook perfect plan, which is why it won't work.

Of course. We bow to your vast experience in strategic planning.

Refresh my memory. What year was it that you graduated from w*r college?

What's the matter, Colonel? Married life not all you expected?

That's enough, both of you.

We're not going to win this one by the book.

I want Starbuck in here... because she's not weighed down by conventional thinking.

All due respect, gentlemen, we're not as crazy as she is.

Okay. So what would you do differently?

To start... jumping Galactica in behind the planetoid... to hide it from the Cylon base is an obvious move.

You think they'll be covering their blind spot with recon patrols?

I would, if I were them.

What we need to do is make their patrols part of our plan, you know?

Make their tactics work for us.

Here's what I would do:

At position code deacon... we'll need three civilian freighter ships to use as decoys.

Which means those passengers will have to be relocated to other ships... which are already overcrowded.

Yes, if you approve.

The decoy ships will jump into the enemy star system... at extreme radar range from the Cylon asteroid.

Galacticawill jump here, close enough to launch its Vipers at the base.

Soon as the decoy freighters arrive in the system, they'll break wireless silence.

They'll be posing as a mine fleet coming after the tylium... and pretend to be unaware of the Cylon presence.

The Cylons will hear the messages... and send a force of Raiders after them.

This will leave the base relatively undefended.

We'll have Raptors pre-positioned to keep an eye on the Cylons.

When the Cylons move toward the decoys...

Galactica's Vipers will come in from behind, and obliterate the base.

Without the base, they'll be unable to rearm, refuel.

We'll mop them up, and then we'll take the tylium.

What happens to the crews on the civilian decoy ships?

They'll keep their FTL drives spooled up, and just jump clear first sign of trouble.

How many casualties do we anticipate?

It'll cost us.

If you succeed, what's to prevent the Cylons from coming back with reinforcements?

Nothing.

But if we get a chance to knock out that base... it'll buy us some time.

Why?

If you keep running from the school yard bully... he keeps on chasing you.

But the moment you turn around and stop... and you punch him really hard in a sensitive spot... he'll think twice about coming back again.

So it's either this, or run out of fuel and be annihilated.

Sometimes you have to roll the hard six.

Well, the freighters are yours. Good hunting, everyone.

Operation starts in 48 hours.

This is our target.

A Cylon base?

You're the Cylon expert.

We need to destroy their m*llitary facilities.

Without harming the tylium ore under the surface.

Exactly.

A nuke would destroy the Cylons.

But the radiation would render the ore inert, unusable.

I see your dilemma.

Well, you're in luck, you know.

Refined tylium contains tremendous enthalpy... to the order of half a billion mega joules per kilo.

If subjected to right heat and compression, say, from a conventional warhead, you should get a suitably devastating expl*si*n... without the radioactive fallout.

All we have to do is hit the right spot.

Specifically, you need to hit the staging tanks for the refined tylium precursor.

It's a lot more unstable than the fuel itself.

And where would they be?

I need your advice on this one.

I'm flattered, Gaius... but I don't know the first thing about tylium refineries.

Neither do I.

Oh, come on, you must have an inkling... where I should tell them to b*mb? No.

But God does. Oh, good.

I suppose God doesn't want me to destroy the base because...

he's the Cylon God, right?

God doesn't take sides.

He only wants your love.

Open your heart to him, and he'll show you the way.

Be a lot simpler if he came out and told me.

You must remember to surrender your ego. Remain humble.

If you ask me, God could do with cleaning his ears out.

Then he might hear what I have to say.

Relax your neck. Why? What are you going to do?

I said relax. All right, but please don't...

Where would the staging tanks be, Doctor?

Uh...

There. Right there.

Hit any one of them, and the place will go up like a three kiloton b*mb.

Well done.

Forceful, so decisive, delivered with such élan.

He didn't speak to me.

God didn't speak to me.

I was totally lying.

I just picked that spot at random.

He doesn't always speak in words, Gaius.

So the fate... of the entire human race depends upon my wild guess.

Attention on deck. As you were.

How's the knee, Starbuck?

It'll be ready. I'm not missing this party.

Apollo's leading this strike force. You're gonna have to sit this one out.

I'm the best pilot that you have. Not right now.

In combat, you gotta pull 6, 7 G's.

Doc says your knee won't take it.

Well, then he's wrong. Is he?

A Viper thruster pedal... requires this much force...

to activate.

Now you're on your att*ck run.

They launch their missiles... so you've got to jam that pedal... into the firewall... and hold a 6 G turn...

for 10 seconds or you die.

10, 9, 8...

7, 6, 5, 4.

This was only 3 G's, Starbuck. Not 6.

I'm sorry. It's a tough one.

But you're stayin' home.

Keep your ingress low and fast.

Use the terrain to stay hidden till the last second.

Make sure you give the flak suppression unit enough time... so they can weaken defenses.

You don't think I'm up to this? Of course I do.

You'll be fine.

Look, you're worried that I'm not gonna pull it out of the fire... with some high-risk retina-detaching move... the way Starbuck would.

Look, Kara, I'm sorry you're not suiting up.

Because, believe me, everyone would feel so much better, me included... if you were riding along with us.

But this isn't an ego trip. This is my job.

Don't think for one moment that I will not get it done.

I hope so. 'Cause we've got one sh*t.

Don't frak it up by over-thinking.

Nice thing about being on the run after a nuclear w*r... nobody left to complain if we hide out in their barn or raid their pantry... while you're on your way to steal a ship, and get off the planet.

It's odd, isn't it? What?

That we haven't seen a single living human being... since the one you sh*t when you rescued me.

We're still alive. Why nobody else?

Probably holed up in the fallout shelters or something.

Two ways out and a lovely view. What could be better?

A feather bed and a silk comforter.

You hungry?

I don't know. What do we got? Peanut butter...

baked beans, corn...

How about some chili?

A simple "no" would do.

Sharon, have you been taking your anti-radiation meds?

I think it was those cold beans we had this afternoon.

You okay now? Yeah.

How far you figure to Delphi?

Eight, maybe ten days if we move fast.

If we start early, we can be there in no time.

Can't sleep?

I couldn't either before a big op.

The Mark II.Good ship.

Got me out of a lot of tough scrapes.

Got something for you.

It belonged to your grandfather.

My mom bought it for him when he was in law school.

You see the engraving on it?

Yeah, I can barely make it out, but...

He was a better father than I was.

Dad used to carry that into court cases.

Claimed he never lost unless he left it behind.

So you're worried too.

About what?

You know, sometimes it feels like the whole ship... thinks Starbuck would do better.

I don't.

How can you be so sure?

'Cause you're my son.

Get some rest.

You're gonna need it.

Dad?

I'll bring it back.

You'd better, or I'll kick your ass. It's a good lighter.

Sharon. Wake up.

What the frak! You k*lled her... Let me see.

We gotta go. Right now.

Wait a minute. I saw her on my lap. I saw her blood spill on my lap.

Let's move, mister.

What the hell is going on? - I don't know. We'll figure it out later.

Jump complete, sir. DRADIS reports nothing but hash.

Just as we expected. Can't see a thing.

We are now within launch range of the Cylon base.

...Constellation jump complete on station, point deacon.

Initiate search pattern, Delta.

Ore flight Bravo. Delta, Wilco.

Ore flight Nebula, Delta initiated.

The ball's in play. You can bet they heard that.

Now they'll try to locate the decoys.

And when they do?

If they take the bait, all hell breaks loose.

Until then? We wait.

Galactica, Boomer.

Tally, 90 plus, headed deacon.

Speed, 250.

The Cylons have seen the freighter. They're en route to intercept.

They took the bait.


Mr. Gaeta, launch Strike Force 1. Aye, sir.

D, launch strike force one.

Attention. Pilots, man your planes.

Pilots, man your planes.

How hard did they bite? Boomer's report said 90 plus.

They've launched most of their fighter force.

Give them hell, sir. f*ring.

att*ck forces away.

I just hope that Lee can...

Lee isn't the problem.

You should take a good look at yourself.

I had to go through the same transition.

When you're in the cockpit, you're in control.

It's hard to give it up.

It would just be a lot easier if I was flying with them.

All you can do now is wait, and hope you didn't make any mistakes.

I never wanted this kind of responsibility.

The Cylons never asked us what we wanted.

Welcome to the big leagues.

Galactica, Crashdown.

Tally, 50 plus on an intercept course.

Repeat. 50 plus inbound.

What's that mean?

It means that a Cylon patrol spotted our att*ck force.

The base sent out 50 more Raiders to intercept.

Fifty Raiders?

That means we're outnumbered now 5-to-1?

Weren't the decoys supposed to take care of that?

The Cylons were too smart for that. Frak.

Estimated time to strike intercept, 2 minutes.

Fireball... multiple bandits, left 10 high, range 40.

Weapons free. Committing.

Hot Dog, visual tally, press.

Hot Dog, break right.

Fireball, your six.

I'm hit! Man eject.

Stop!

Deadbolt, Spinner. Two bandits closing your right side.

No joy!

Galactica, Hot Dog. Heavily engaged. Mission outcome doubtful.

This sounds frakking awful. - They're getting cut to pieces out there.

Get out of there! Move!

Deadbolt, break vertical, now!

Damn it, take the sh*t. Get him off me.

Mr. Gaeta, abort Strike 1.

Strike One, Galactica. Return to base.

Repeat. Abort your mission, and return to base.

Galactica, Stubbs.

Cylon strike force is turning away from deacon and inbound to Galactica.

Noting Raiders inbound.

The Cylons heard our transmission recall, didn't they?

Does that mean the first wave of Raiders... is ignoring the decoys, and is coming after us?

That's exactly what it means.

So, when are we going to launch the reserve Vipers to defend Galactica?

There are no reserve Vipers. Everything is on the board already.

Now we play for all the marbles.

Starbuck, it's your plan.

Mr. Gaeta... will you please tell D to get on the scrambler and inform Apollo the back door is open?

Aye, Lieutenant.

D, please send a scrambler to Capt. Apollo.

Message reads, "The back door is open."

Apollo, Galactica. Back door is open.

Godspeed, Apollo.

Lt. Thrace, why didn't you tell me... we had another att*ck force hidden in the freighters?

We... It was my decision.

I routinely restrict tactical details to those who need to know.

Old habits die hard.

So you still might pull this off?

If Dr. Baltar's target information is correct.

And whether we get blown to pieces by those Cylon Raiders... heading toward us right now.

Speaking of which, I'm needed in CIC.

Initial point in 5 seconds.

Flak suppression unit cleared hot.

Okay, let's do this.

Come on, Lee. It's all on you.

Incoming!

Weapons free. By the numbers, people.

Target acquired. Tone and lock.

f*ring.

Tone and lock. f*ring.

What's got into these frakking missiles?

Come on.

They're jamming the guidance systems.

Strike two, Apollo.

Then we get close enough so we don't need the guidance systems.

We'll have to blow this thing manually.

Wilco, Apollo. Rolling in.

Chuckles!

Oh, frak.

Chuckles bought it. He's going down!

Now they've got our att*ck axis zeroed in.

There's no way to frakking get close.

There's gotta be.

We've got to get out of this flak.

Let's get down below deck, down where the target is.

I've got an idea. I'm gonna take a closer look.

Commander on deck.

As you were.

The first wave of Cylons will be on us in three minutes.

Notify the Strike 1 Vipers... that they can stop running and blast those bastards to hell.

Yes, sir.

Engaging Cylon fighters.

Target acquired, tone and lock.

Oh, no, don't do this, Lee.

The conveyor tunnel's clear. I'm going through it.

You're out of your frakkin' mind, Apollo.

What's going on?

Captain Apollo's flying into the conveyor tunnel... hoping it'll lead him to the refinery.

Has he gone raving mad?

There's no way to ensure it does anything of the kind.

Come on. Keep it together, Lee.

Oh, Lords.

Okay, I'm through the tunnel. They can't get a f*ring solution on me.

There you are.

Okay. I've got you. I've got you.

Uh, Galactica, Apollo.

Mission accomplished.

Yes.

You can tell Dr. Baltar he was right on the money.

It's one hell of a fireworks show.

And there's plenty of ore for us in the canyon... once this place is history.

Congratulations, Doctor. It worked.

It did.

It worked.

Sorry, Madame President. I'm sorry.

No need to apologize.

Thanks to you, we have enough fuel to last us a few years.

Commander, Strike 1 reports inbound Cylons are bugging out.

Request permission to go after them, sir.

Tell our people to pursue and destroy. Affirmative.

Strike 1, tear them up.

Apollo, you magnificent bastard.

That was one hell of a piece of flying, and I couldn't have done it better myself.

I'm sorry. I didn't hear you.

I said that I couldn't have done it better myself.

Well, thank you.

I had my doubts.

So did I.

I wasn't sure that crazy-ass plan of yours could even possibly work.

Mmm.

You deserve this.

Crash.

Have you read the Pythian Prophecy, Gaius?

Not since the 6th grade.

I can't say ancient history is my favorite subject.

You should have paid closer attention.

To what?

"All of this has happened before.

"All of this will happen again."

Everyone knows that verse. What are you getting at?

Remember this one?

"Led by serpents numbering two and ten."

The Vipers, they're the serpents.

There's a later verse, Gaius. You should read it.

"Though the outcome favored the few...

"it led to a confrontation at the home of the gods."

Are you telling me that God guided my finger to that target for some... arcane scriptural purpose?

You are part of God's plan, Gaius.

So God wanted me to destroy the Cylon base.

You did well. You gave yourself over to Him.

Yes, I suppose I did, I...

There's really no other logical explanation for it.

I was... Am.

I am an instrument of God.

Hey, check it out.

Ow.
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