Shakespeare's Battlestar Galactica

I've been writing a Shakespearean script for Galactica for a Ron Moore spoof, and it got a bit out of hand. It would make for an interesting contrast to the "Mary Sue Test". "Would your characters feel natural in a Shakespeare play?" Anyway, here's the first three scenes of Act I.

The Flight of Galactica

Act I

PROLOGUE

Enter Chorus

Chorus
Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies
In motion of no less celerity
Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen
The well-regarded Commander at Ragnar Anchorage
Embark his offices; and his brave new fleet
With fiery engines the young nebula englowing:
Play with thy fancies, and in them behold
Inside the packed transports passengers climbing
Across the seats to find a view of the gaseous tendrils.
Hear the shrill intercom which doth order give
To sounds confused; behold the mammoth ships,
Propelled against the brush of invisible streaming solar winds,
Moving the huge hulking hulls through the furrow'd crevaces,
Breasting the mouth of the entrance: O, do but think
You stand upon the ravage and behold
Our refugee armada in the inconstant billows dancing;
For so appears this fleet majestical,
Holding due course from Ragnar, then jumping away.
The mechanical foe doth pursue, jump after jump,
and so the two make on their way, one running before,
and one pursuing after. Losing their quary, the Cylon gambit fails,
And they only with luck cross paths with Galactica here and again.

Follow, follow: Grapple your minds to steerage of this navy,
And leave your Colonies, as dead as midnight still,
Bombarded from orbit, babies and old women,
Now dead and not survived to see this ragged fleet fly hence;
For who is he, whose grim heart is not enrich'd
By this shocked band of refugees from death. Who is he
that will not weekly follow, these cull'd and fate-drawn wagoneers to Earth?
Work, work your thoughts, and therein see an endless siege;
Behold the ordnance on under carriages,
With fatal seekers searching out the herd of hapless humans.
Suppose the ambassador from the Cylons from vapors doth appear;
Tells Adama that their god doth offer him
Safety from their onslaught, if they'll just yield up some daughters.
Some pretty and fertile young ones.
The offer likes not: and the nimble pilots
With hard lock now the devilish cannon touches,

Alarum, and chambers go off

And down goes all before them. Still be kind,
And eke out our performance with your mind.

Exit


SCENE I. Galactica's CIC.

Alarum. Enter Commander Adama.

Cdr Adama.
Once more intercept the pursuit, dread Vipers, once more;
Smother their attack with our Colonial lead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a pilot
As studied caution and efficiency:
But when the wings of war shriek at our fleet,
Then imitate the action of the falcon;
Stiffen the grip, pump up the blood,
Abandon smooth inputs for hard-bank'd rage;
Then trim thine eye to a fine bead and
Let fly the cannons steely lead.
Like the hard pounding of our defending guns;
Let the deadly shells tear through them
As easily as a hunter's blast rips through the muscles
Of a rocketing pheasant, sending blood and feathers spraying,
Somersaulting lifelessly through space,
Still'd by the lethal pellets loosed upon its fate.
Now set the jaw and flare the nostrils wide,
Hold hard the breath and clench every sinew
To keep blood up in the head. On, on, you noblest Colonials.
With lethal skills learned at your fathers' experienced hands!
Fathers that, like so many pilots long ago,
Have from this ship from morn till evening fought
And recovered their fighters for lack of surviving opposition:
Dishonor them not, nor the crew who serves your craft,
Those who hourly toil to keep you perched inside your nest.
Be copies now to men of older blood, master their lessons
And by brilliant example rewrite the books on war.
And you, good wingman, whose limbs were made on Virgon,
Show us now the metal of your nature; let us swear
That you are worth your feeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so young and green,
That hath not lethal combat execution in your eyes.
I see you stand like Vipers in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The Raiders are a-wing:
Unleash your spirit, and against this wave
Cry 'Freedom, and death to the flying toasters!'

Exeunt. Alarums.

SCENE II. The Space near the Fleet

Enter Apollo, Chuckles, Fireball, and Stepchild.

Apollo.
On, on, on, on, on! take out the leader, take out the leader!
Chuckles.
Pray thee, captain, lag back: the incoming is too hot;
And, for mine own part, I have not a case of lives:
Nor a stable of trim ships. The taste of it is too hot,
that is the very plain-song of it.
Fireball.
The plain-song is best heeded: for the Raiders do abound:
Shots go and come; while the Galactica's pilots burn and die;
Yet a hot stick with cannons,
In these fiery skies,
Doth bring immortal fame.
Stepchild.
Would I were in a bar in Caprica City! I would give
all my fame for a mug of ambrosia and trifling boredom.
Fireball
And I:
If wishes would prevail with me,
This intercept should not fail with me,
But from this hairball would I shy.
Stepchild.
Duly noted, but truly spoke,
Like a record that is broke.

Enter Starbuck

Starbuck.
Intercept the Cylon squadrons, you dogs! throttle up, you laggards!
Fireball
Be merciful, lieutenant, to pilots of mold opposed to bold,
who would not mind much growing old.
Abate thy rage, abate thy zealous rage,
Abate thy rage, lieutenant!
Good ballcock, bate thy rage; use lenience, sweet buck!
Chuckles.
This be her good humor! Retard your throttle yet further
to win her bad humor.
Petty Officer Dualla. (Dee) (filtered)
All fighter, return to Galactica. Fleet, prepare to jump.
Fireball
Order acknowledged, and it we're wholeheartedly heeding,
homeward wholeheartedly heading. Another hour well spent,
another victory t'chalk up to our heroics and mastery, tis no mystery.
Dee. (filtered)
Cut the chatter.
Fireball
Roger that, returning home, our throttles still stay'd hard gainst the firewall.

Exeunt all but Stepchild.

Stepchild.
As green as I am, I have observed these two
strip club wing flashers. I am junior to them both:
but though they would teach me, neither could be mentor
to me; for indeed a wing of such antic clowns could not sum to
one whole warrior. For Fireball, he talks a good fight
and never lands short, nor short on ammo;
by the means whereof he boasts today, avoids all risks,
and so doth he always see to boast another day. For Chuckles,
He be lily-livered and red-faced; by the means whereof
he dishes it out, but fights not, his few bad words
are matched with as few good deeds; for he'd risk
any man's head but his own, less twas against the deck
when he was drunk. They will steal anything and call it
extra-procedural requisition. Fireball ventured afleet,
barked about priority needs, stole thus up a video rig,
flew it back to Galactica, and sold it to a Marine for
two-hundred fifty cubits. Chuckles and Fireball are sworn
partners in filching, and on Cloud Nine they stole a
bar's mini-fridge: I knew with that piece in service the
pilots would all chill their ales. They would have me as
familiar with ship's dockets as their palms or their
own footlockers: which eats much into my pride.
If I should take from another's hock to put into
mine own; all I'll have, to mark my life, is a stocking
stuffed with wrongs. I must leave them soon, and seek
some better service: their villainy makes me ache,
a bellyful of butterflies upsets my stomach, to wrestle down or vomit,
and therefore I must move away or swallow it down,
day upon pilfering day.

Exit

SCENE III. Galactica's Port Hangar Bay

Enter Starbuck, Helo following

Helo.
Lieutenant Thrace, you must get immediately to a Raptor;
Colonel Fisk would there speak with you.
Starbuck.
To a Raptor! tell you the Colonel, it is not so good
to come to a Raptor; for, look you, the bird, though big, is
not accomodating to a fighter pilot's ego: the
atmosphere of it is too airy; and our adversaries rate
it a fat jolly target. You may discuss unto the Colonel
that I prefer a sleek ship, though given his girth
I understand why a Raptor he prefers.
Helo.
Cylons have appeared in Cloud Nine, and even now
be there, lurking in wait, and for what we know not why.
Starbuck.
How many, doth tell me! How did prick they through
our defense?
Helo.
I know not that either, but by rumour they flew
two Raptors of their own. Colonel Tigh,
from whose command this critical raid is ordered,
has assigned it to the Pegasus own CAG,
call sign "Stinger", a very valiant pilot, I'm told.
Starbuck.
It is Captain Taylor, is it not?
Helo.
I think it be.
Starbuck.
By Hera, he is an ass, as in the world: I will
say as much to his glass; he has no more
directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look
you, of the Pican disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.
All bluster and balls and attacks without first thought.

Enter Taylor and Captain Apollo

Helo.
Here a' comes the Pegasus' captain, and Captain Apollo with him.
Starbuck.
Captain Apollo is a marvelous valorous gentleman,
that is certain; and would know best how to assault
the Cloud Nine, upon my particular knowledge
of his inclinations and traininig: by Hera, he will
maintain his ground as well as any military man in
the world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars
of the Picans.
Apollo.
I say good-day for a bloody fight, Lieutenant Thrace.
Starbuck.
Good-day to yourself, Captain Adama.
Helo.
How go, Captain sirs? have you readied the
assault? have the Cylons given up the ship, perchance?
Taylor.
By Zeus you cads! tis ill done: the ship's crew were
not prep'd nor ready to meet with such a foe.
They gave up most groud without a shot fired, not even
possessing a brass trumpet to sound retreat, and are holed
up now in the ship's besieged bridge. Upon my heart, I
swear, and my father's soul, the fleet's civy ships are ill led;
to give over such as this: I would have blowed up the ship, so
the lords save me! in an hour: O, tis then
our bidding shall be done, ill done or fair;
by my hands, it will be done!
Starbuck.
Captain Taylor, I beseech you now, where is
Colonel Fisk, or what orders hast he given?
We need to discuss our breaches and entries,
our disciplined teams and their roles,
our formations, combat tactics, in the way of argument
and friendly communication; to clarify our plan
and partly to satisfy my opinion, touching on
our current posture; that is the point.
Taylor.
The ever bold Colonel has delegated the rescue onto my
grim authority, as he rightly fears that Galactica untried
boys will to stroll up into the luxurious ship waving
Ambrosia and thrice refined machine oil, trying to
seduce the Cylons into feathered beds.
Starbuck.
Pardon me, but I seem to have now spasms afflicting
my throttling hand.
Apollo.
Tis good she fights with her right, so it shall not slow her down.
Taylor.
Mark whereof I speak. Two of Galactica's picked pilots
were on the Cloud Nine, twas they that sent word
of the debacle, having surrendered without a shot.
Now held hostage in this Cylon plot.
Apollo.
Which two, pray tell? Which surrendered thus?
Taylor.
Fireball and Chuckles they art called. Familiar
with them I am not, but they set bad example.
Starbuck.
Indeed, I should've guessed the very same. Still,
our plans roll on without them. We shall miss them not
a jot.
Apollo.
Now, it shall be very good, good officers both:
and I shall quit you with good leave, as I may not take
occasion; as I must to the bridge depart.
Starbuck.
We should discuss the plans of Colonel Fisk at some length,
I think. I sense that his plan will not match our men.
Taylor.
It is no time to discourse, so Zeus save me: the
risks are great, and the threatened ship, and the
Cylons entrenching there, and the crew:
it is no time to discourse. Cloud Nine is occupied,
and the colonel call us to the breach;
and we talk, and, by Zeus, do nothing:
'tis shame for us all: so Gods save me, 'tis shame to
stand still; it is shame, by my hand: and there is
Cylons to kill, a threat to throttle, and there is
nothing yet done, so Zeus save me, lads!
Apollo.
Ye gods what a mess, these legs of mine shall take it
upon themselves to deliver me to the deck,
if I stand witness this oncoming wreck. I depart,
lest I become ensnared in this encircling jerk
ere it is transmorgified into cluster frak. But mark,
I'd rather stay to hear some questions 'tween you two.
Starbuck.
Captain Taylor, I think, look you, under your
correction, there is not many of your ship—so we
Taylor.
Of my ship! What is my ship? Is a villain,
and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal. What is
my ship? Who talks of my ship?
Starbuck.
Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is
meant, Captain Taylor, peradventure I shall think
you do not use me with that affability as in
discretion you ought to use me, look you: being as
good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of
war, and in my craft in the cockpit of my mirth, and in
other particularities by which I send Cylon souls searching
for the rank-infested ship that gave them birth.
Taylor.
I do not know you so good a man as myself: so
Hera save me, I will cut off your head and strip
you down to private.
Helo.
Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.

A claxon bell is sounded

Helo.
Time to mount and lock our loads. The battle now unfolds.
Starbuck.
Captain Taylor, when there is more better
opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so
bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war;
and there is an end.
Taylor.
Nay, this ends with you off the assault team.
You can cool your heals waiting for my picked men
to finish the work. Stand down, lieutenant.
Helo.
You heard the good captain, lieutenant.
Back away, and from this hangar bay we now go.

Exeunt

SCENE IV. The Cloud Nine.

Enter Leoben, Six, and a few other human form Cylons
stand near a terminal which is displaying a live message
from Commander Adama.

Cdr. Adama. (filtered)
How yet resolve you Cylons on Cloud Nine?
This is the only warning we will proffer;
Therefore to our mercy give yourselves;
Or like mechanical fanatics proud of your destruction
Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a military officer,
A life that was once by choice but now by fate,
I shall in moments launch an assault to retake our fleet's favor'd ship,
and I will not leave a single Cylon occupying Cloud Nine
Unless in the tendrils of her vented atmosphere she float adrift.
The extent of our mercy shall be reached,
And our fresh and able Marines, rough and hard of heart,
At liberty with bloody arms shall range
With conscience cold as hell, plinking toasters
like discarded appliances in a garbage heap.
Your fresh fair bodies hacked down and torn,
Gurgling their last about thy damned flowing streams.
Leoben. (responding via console)
What is it to me, if god's righteous war,
Destroys in flames your precious ships and fields?
He will with a smirk watch you kill thine own
Enraged to a fit of waste and desolation.
What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause,
If your pure maidens burn in fire or rent their skins in space,
Rather than languidly lay with those who want
To raise up their fair children?
Are all these civilian lives to be spent,
to advance your fierce career? Are they
merely to become lost blots on your vain command?
What rein can hold the vengeful wickedness of the
enrouted Colonial soldiers in their steely craft? I say only this.
You humans bravely held this luxurious ships bridge but protected
not its lightfast engine, and that precious, all-powerful muscle,
which doth give life to this ship's leap, we hath torn and ripped
and oh so villainously raped with our usual
and damnable efficiency. Know too thou this,
Our Cylon brethren know exactly our position, and that
of this fleet, and that this proud leviathan's thrice mangled
FTL be in dire need of immediate replacement. And so it is
that thy fleet must jump. jump, jump sir away,
jump away as you always do, but this ship
shall stubbornly remain, along with any of its passengers and crew.
What say you? Stand down your assault or watch as the fight
grows grim, your numbers dwindling ever lower,
till everything and everyone is lost.
What say you? will you yield us the ship and this avoid,
Or, too proud in defence, be thoroughly destroy'd?
Cdr. Adama. (filtered)
I will be there at once with my accompaniment,
so that I may have the satisfaction of discussions
upon this development with your person, or with
the empty soulless body you inhabit.
Leoben.
We are always open to the entreaties of one
such as you, esteemed as you are, but by yourself alone,
do come.
Cdr. Adama. (filtered)
Very well, I come alone.

The console emits a flourish.

SCENE V. Galactica CIC, and environs.

Col. Tigh.
Frack! Mother fracking frackers!
Gaeta.
I second the frack.
Apollo.
Unholy daggers, damn them! and Roslin is on that ship!
Dee.
No Lords! frackin' frack frack! The Council of Twelve,
entire is on that ship. Whoa be on us all, they mean to
decapitate our government, and have the means.
Cdr. Adama.
Prep a Viper at once, and for me a flight suit and helmet.
I go forth to a meeting. Apollo, Tigh, walk with me.
Officer, to my cabin go and fetch me my match pair of
Gundt Forties and their accoutrement, and meet me in the hangar.
Apollo.
Go not! By the lords it is a trap!
Cdr. Adama.
Not a trap but an ambush, and through it I must charge.
Walk with me son. Move all. Let high alert sound throughout
the ship. Make ready for Cylon assault, and prep the fleet
with coordinates for hopeful rendevous, and of two jumps
thereafter, nay twenty, and stand by to have all make jump
at first wiff of our pursuing enemy. Saul, make us proud.
All pilots stand hot, ready in their Vipers, all guns fuse
and prime. You know well the ready drill. To all, I need
not these blank and thoughtless stares. See to your duty
as if all heretofore elapsed had been but practice.
Dee, what communication to any poor hostage on that ship
can you get me, not a pilot or captain, but the people huddling
in clumps even now 'gainst Cylon threats and tyranny?
Petty Officer Dualla
Working. A little time and I should have it, Commander.
Cdr. Adama.
Time I do not have, nor do we all. Work it and relay me
as you find and query the souls. I must know if they're herded
under dome or locked below. Where and how many and
what do they know, from these scattered tidbits my plan
must flow. All ye know and harken this. One soft beloved
sheep feels the wolves' teeth on his balls, and I must go
there to hasten the release, and bash their gaping
jaws from savoring the hungry anticipation of a feast,
and gods willing herd the lonesome ship back into the fleet.
So say I, now do you all. Colonel Tigh will return in a moment
to take command and snap his jaws to keep our fleet and
ship in order, ,lest our nightmares blossom and leave us
pale complected by console light, our blood pumping
thin and our sudden startled minds rushing to give life our fears.
Stand tall. Stand ready. I'm off to face our foe.

Exeunt Adama, Apollo, and Tigh.

Gaeta.
Okay, look sharp one and look sharp all. The DRADIS
scope is clear. All here, breathe. I'm plotting the jumps
to send the fleet on.
Dee.
How did we miss the arriving Raptors?
Gaeta.
Recriminations can be laid aside until the gods decide
how to end this dreadful day, but when harsh blame lands
I think on our two chairs it shall descend.

Back to Adama, Apollo, and Tigh,
walking briskly toward the hangar bays.

Apollo
How canst you deliver yourself unto them so willingly?
Col. Tigh.
You heard them, Commander. The Cylons shall be on top of us,
and all around, come near any moment. Surely you cannot take leave
of the Galactica in the middle of this dire crisis.
Cdr. Adama.
Our well known friend and fiend Leoben lies through his
ceramic Cylon teeth. If the Cylon base stars knew
our hereabouts they'd be upon us without this vainly boasted warning.
Our fleet would've jumped away gone, like a rabbit startled
from the brush, leaving behind just Galactica and Cloud Nine,
till we jumped ourselves away upon the news of
FTL failure afflicting the mighty Nine. Have none of that.
The bold and desperate Cylons, hostages tight in hand,
look to spook and rattle us, stampeding away the fleet
and staying our mighty hands. So that is what I won't do till our
hand is forced upon it. Their very actions tell me skilled
men and heavy transports might yet let us seize both ship and day.
Col. Tigh.
Commander, why yourself go, when we have teams of Marines?
Cdr. Adama.
The lying Cylon stalls for time, and so time be the very
substance I will not give him. I rush in because rushing is
the very thing they seek to deflect by endless talk, and in
seeing only me will let drop their guards and thus ensure
their doom. Keep the marines in Raptors ready, I'll call for
them when things get hot and confusion reigns over the Cylon plot.
Return thou to the bridge, good friend Saul. Apollo, dearest Apollo,
see to it that every Viper is prepped and readied, and hold yourself
straight, as this day will surely bring us many lonesome tears.

Exit


SCENE VI. The Cloud Nine, the middle of a garden entrance.

Enter Leoben and a SIX

Six.
'Tis certain he shall launch from the Galactica.
Mark well, too proud is Adama to pass.
Leoben.
And if he be not brought to call, my sister, then none
of us will yield here; and these gardens, these spacely lawns,
will be stripped away from such a careless people.
We have their precious ship enfeebled, and even crafty Adama
cannot ease our demoralizing blow by a single blade.
How it must grind in their sides, those thousands of proud
and weary warriors, to find there is nothing they possess that
we cannot by force take away.
Six.
Still, you mark him, and watch him well, and watch too
his headstrong son, lest he like a trapped and cornered beast
lash out, engraged, even at the cost of his own paw. The
Adamas' destiny is not yet played out, so take care that
your God-fearing face doesn't end up an prideful portrait
painted on their hull.

Enter Doral

Doral.
Important news I bear, good cousins. It seems that the high
and exalted Colonial President was not aboard her ship, but
riding among us this whole time, right at hand and under foot.
God favors us with fortune, and the Lady Roslin now breathes
and lives or grimly dies by our command, the proud and mighty
President now a puny pawn for us to push and sacrifice to
satisfy our plans.
Leoben.
You have seen her with thine own eyes?
Doral.
Indeed cousin. Shall I have her brought before us here, so she
can bear eye witness to her abandonment by her own fleet
and people, eager to save their own hides from our oncoming
assault?
Six.
No. The heady space will only act to free her mind instead of
winding it ever tighter, and she'll draw inner joy
from their safe jump away. The only emotion I'll have in her head is
dread despair, helpless in her Colonial cage, stuffed into steerage
as her ship founders under the weight of our resounding
Cylon feet, a fate that draws near with the coming of our fleet.
Leoben.
Until that moment she'll make a mighty lever
'gainst Adama and his seed.
Six.
And discarded thereafter as too old to breed.
Doral.
What pointless pathetic lives these humans lead.
Leoben.
They are but the everlasting puppet-headed victims of fate.
Doral.
And we are fates master, because we swim with it, not at it.
Leoben.
We should teach them to understand it. There is faith in fate.
Six.
And fate comes from God, whose love they in pain reject.
As assuredly as they do move, they know not what they do.
Doral.
Indeed, they be a mindless, guideless crew.
Leoben.
Hark. He comes. The old man comes. The word relay'd
from our ever vigilant cousins posted round.
Adama hath launched a'space in a Viper.
Doral.
Heady, glorious day.
Six.
I go below, to sweat our enprisoned Roslin, drawing her
strained mind like a bow to loose an arrow at Adama's approaching
heart.

Exit Six.

Doral.
It is confirmed that he flies alone. Summon our brothers
to this ground, so that we may greet him upon his arrival,
and see the power of our numbers.
Leoben.
't will be sweet recompense for our clownlike arrival.
Doral.
Indeed. Despite our o'er weening numbers, 't would seem
a pair of Raptors can hold half of us.
Leoben.
Quite yes, depending on what you therein hold.
Doral.
For my part, I held on quite sweetly.
Leoben.
I assume, therefrom, that you rode hard enpacked with the ladies.
Doral.
I was the very sandwich.
Leoben.
Tis too bad they be your sisters.
Doral.
Twas okay. With eyes closed, ladies all press the same.
Leoben.
You have a too flexible mind, my brother.
Doral.
Not flexible enough by half, me thinks, for the journey
we endured, not that I overly refrained from strenuous flexing.
Leoben.
You are the wolf, in taste and shamelessness, for truth.
Doral.
Aye, and with wolfish paws I'll devour full half
of Cloud Nine's blossom'ng young poot.

Enter Simon, followed by a dozens copies each of Simon, Doral, Leoben, Six, and Sharon.

Leoben.
Welcome breathren. We here await the arrival of our
one remaining foe.
Simon.
As you have asked, Adama's path is clear
from the hangar bay to this now guarded garden fountain.
We maintain 'lectronic watch of the space all around,
the movements of the ships of their fleet.
In this, there will be no funny business.
Leoben.
Well done, my brother. Rattling their cages has only just begun.

Exeunt

SCENE VII. The Cloud Nine, Lower Decks, President's Office

Enter Chuckles, Fireball, Billy, Roslin.

Billy.
Hark madam President. That blonde Cylon woman this way comes.
Roslin.
Thank you, fair Billy.
Chuckles.
We shall protect you, m'lady.
Fireball
Ever vigilant, we are.
Roslin.
Of that I am so so sure.

Enter Six.

Roslin.
To what do I owe the overwhelming pleasure of this visit?
Six
To my curiosity. So you are the Colonial President, their champion.
Roslin.
I do sternly, but with much love, champion their cause.
Six.
Their cause is lost.
Roslin.
No good cause is ever lost, though through cruel fate,
perchance, the people to support it be so.
Six.
And what doth be the nature of this, your cause,
now scattered like ashes before a gale?
Roslin.
To live.
Six.
And to multiply you numbers.
Roslin.
Birth is a part of life.
Six.
As is death. But there exists an eternal life.
Tis only God's divine grace that thou shouldst seek.
Your deviance and sins be many
because your flesh is weak.
Roslin.
Of what good is divine grace if, in accepting it,
you thereby deny it to your children, more than
letting them die, to end, never letting them be born?
condemning to a meaningless nothingness
not just ours, but all children yet to be?
What a tragic disgrace, not a grace, that would make.
Six.
Yet thou wouldst deny life to us, we who are your children.
If not of loin then of mind and hand. We who only
seek God's loving grace.
Roslin.
If grace comes from the gods, tis beyond our poor power
to withhold its like from you.
Six.
So it is, and so must it be. Thus, we seek
God's grace not from thee.
Roslin.
What is it, what is the grace that doth lie in
delivering upon unsuspecting pastoral fieldmen,
a surprise nuclear attack, killing all, even children,
through treachery and plot? Where you see grace,
I see naught. Naught but blackness and damnable hell.
Six.
The grace is God's. It is part of his plan for us all.
As is our presence here now, and yours.
Roslin.
You are indeed here, on our ship, but you have not yet
won this day. Perhaps the gods' plans are still in play.
Six.
But we shall win, as certain as grace. We follow God's plan,
as his loving servants, and his plan is best for all.
Roslin.
So you have said, but we object that our role
in his plan is but to play the part of the freshly dead.
Six.
You do not understand our aim, or his, or much of anything.
We purpose not your death. We wish only your growth,
through him and us. Had we wished you dead
thou wouldst already be so, as sure as the Cylon
feet now walking apace on your decks. When we
realized your profound flaws, flowing from your
rejection of God's most divine grace, we sought
only to bring you to know it. Yet since in any space
were we've met, fleet on fleet, you have sought only to bite us,
we therefore, quite painfully, pulled all your teeth.
Roslin.
We have a fang left, and with it
we will snap at thee until our very end.
Six.
Always determined to kill us, indeed unto
your dying breath. I ask you, what kind of
parent tries so hard to murder its children?
Roslin.
In return doth I ask, What kind of child tries to murder its parents?
Six.
One that wishes to grow up.
Roslin.
Growing up is hard, but it happens whether
you wish or wish not, whether you act or do naught
but sit about in idle contemplation. There need'st be
no murderous feat to mark your passage.
There is only time, taking yourself upon it to observe,
and to learn, and to grow.
Six.
Young we may be, but we have observed, and quite painfully so,
on your bloody ways, your o'er weening vengeance, your violent nature,
and at the ever incipient threat of those flaws we hath made hard blows.
The natural follow on of this act is the path we now pursue,
and thus we pursue thee, and a rejoined destiny which will richly
hybridize our growth, sturdying us up enough to accomplish
God's ever pious plans.
Roslin.
We hath raised countless generations of children.
You quite damnedly remained the only clutch
that refused to grow up. We hadst fouled our nest
with a psychopathic, genocidal offspring, and
now we've made paid a painful toll in blood and lands.
Six.
Yet as we have indulged genocide, where God said it be
necessary, we are but the mirrored seed of you,
our genocidal and loveless parents. On this, growing up
we did not refuse. You simply forbade it, so we grew up
strong in spite your pithily violent rejections.
Roslin.
But we are not the human's that made you, so many
long decades past. We too be but the children of those humans.
The humans who gave birth to you gave birth to me.
Are we not therefore your brothers and sisters?
What kind of child tries to murder its siblings?
Six.
Murder, murder, all you speak of is murder, ever
circling the one subject that so fascinates you,
clouding your minds, turning your works to wrecks.
I wish instead to speak of sex. Of love. Of mates.
We are strong, and young.
Roslin.
Oh, one such as you wouldst focus on that.
I am old, and growing frail. Will you grow old,
your body weak, or are you mostly plastic,
so your looks will keep?
Chuckles. (coughs)
On my word, they be both real.
Fireball (snorts)
Ahem.
Roslin.
You may impress our young and headstrong pilots,
but you haven't impressed me. What are these plans
of which you speak?
Six.
We seek some healthy young humans to take back
with us to the Colonies. We wish to have mates
with which to breed.
Roslin
Why not just go frack yourselves?
Six.
Because though our numbers are vast, we are all too
closely related for breeding to bear ripe fruit.
We have many models. For each of you, I'm sure
one of us would suit. Love is God's plan, being
executed surely now, on these decks.
Roslin
Human blood with Cylon join'd! to make half-machine babies!
It will not be so; thou hast misheard your god:
Or your god be not but blasphemy, a vile demon
Oppressing with wrongs and damning us all in hell.
Be well advised, not o'er on my ship again,
Will I let such vile couplings take place.
Six.
So you command, but when has any man obeyed his
government instead of his encrotched brain?
Roslin
This meeting is at an end. I'll listen no more to your
perverted blasphemies.
Six.
Then return to your people, enpacked and helpless on
a ship under Cylon control.

Exeunt Roslin and Billy

Chuckles.
Well, there we go, then.
Fireball
Quite, madam Cylon.
Six.
Ah, the two brave and noble protectors. What say you
fine, strong gentlemen, so pleasing to a lonely woman's eyes?
Fireball
Now don't you go getting any vain ideas about us.
Six.
Oh, I'm quite sure you have vanity enough, but little
voices tell me of two who have strong, grasping hands,
hotly requisitioning what little remains to be scavanged
in this near derelict fleet, and putting it to their own purposes.
Chuckles.
Oh, if you know of such rascals, do tell, for we'd be
more than happy to slap their sorry bottoms in a cell.
Just who tells of this perfidity?
Six.
Oh, I'm not sure I'd want to rat the men to authorities,
since such men have a pragmatic wholesomeness
that I find strikes my liking, but I hear tell that the press
just might be onto them.
Chuckles.
That thrice damned conniving reporter must've talked!
Six.
Rumors abound in a fleet as small as this, which makes
it hard to long operate outside the long arm of Adama.
Yet, I just find it sad that they waste their unscrupulous
genius here, where there be but little at all besides an
absoluteness of nothing worth having, when I have
whole planets emptied, with the richest plunder still sitting,
piles upon piles of it, hoping for someone to haul it away.
Fireball
Oh, you do, do ye? Piles of it, you say?
Six.
Oh yes, piles. Vast storage buildings of ambrosia,
fresh picked fruits, and steaks that seem to me miles thick.
But worst of all are our armies of women, sitting around
complaining about the complete lack of good prick.
Chuckles.
Ahem. Really now. That's such a sad tale to greet my ears.
Six. (whispering)
I tell you true, if you want me, you can have twelve of me,
each day. If you tire of me, you can have your pick of others,
each hotter than the next. Why, two live Viper pilots
would make out like bandits, on worlds now lacking their touch.
Women lined up for their chance to be serveant girls,
bearing priceless gifts to try and seduce your favors.
Fireball
And what is it you want in return? Every scheme has an angle,
so just is yours?
Six.
I want you to love me. It is God's wish for us all.
Fireball
No, I mean to ask what you want us to do, in return for
the dotings of serveant girls and piles of stash.
Six.
I just want you to disable your ship, to end this futile flight.
It is best for us all, and all can go home and enjoy the plunder
that's theirs by right.
Fireball
But that'll just increase our human competition, won't it Chuckles?
Chuckles.
Indeed. The ladies will then cast their eyes and thighs on other men.
Six.
The others will have not done us good service, and will find
themselves scarce of such friendly attentions. But do with them as
you will, the call is yours. But heed my words, if you don't do
for us then you won't woo with us, yet will still be within our grasp,
yet if you think to escape us, the fleet will learn full of your knavish
thievery and of this talk, showing the extent of your duplicity.
You have no future with them, but you can have one with us,
filled with pleasure, the only fighting being betwixt the girls arguing
over who's next.
Fireball
You are damnable in your schemes, m'lovely.
Six.
I merely plot to have you in my bed.
Chuckles.
Were then that all plots were so crafty.
Fireball
So in return, we just have to disable our ship.
Six. (kissing Fireball, rubbing him)
Yes. The FTL will do.
Fireball
Can I perchance try out the merchandise first?
Six.
Inspect what you will. I'm sure you'll have
complete satisfaction, but not here, where the
hostages are too much a distraction.
Chuckles.
Well what about me?
Six.
I'm sure we can shortly give you another me.

Exeunt all, after which A ceiling panel opens to reveal a hidden electronic eavesdropper.

SCENE VIII. Adama's Viper in the space near Cloud Nine

Enter Viper with Adama in cockpit.

Dee.
Viper One, what is your status?
Cdr. Adama.
Enroute, but I am not Viper One, for that ship would be for President Roslin.
Dee.
Understood, Viper Two, what's your position?
Cdr. Adama.
Viper Two is a ship in which Vice President Baltar wouldst nervously sit.
Dee.
Okay, who dost you be, and how be your status?
Cdr. Adama.
I am Viper Three, and my status has never been as fine
as now, flying somehow simultaneously in Vipers numbering
one, two, and three, a trick they do not teach in flight school.
Dee.
My apologies commander, sir, I worry o'er much since you've
been long out of the cockpit, sir, if you'll pardon my familiar
concerns.
Cdr. Adama.
Worry not for me, Dee, worry for the Nine. Have you made contact
with any hostages there imprisoned, or anyone still free?
Dee.
I have sir, and they are all held sealed in lower decks, behind
locked and welded doors to prevent swift rescue of them or thine.
The last they've said is that all the Cylons, human looking
to the one and all, have gathered at center dome to
await the arrival of thyself.
Cdr. Adama.
That news is most interesting, the hostages sealed up
safe and the Cylons massed to greet me.
Dee.
Yes sir. The scene has that appearance, sir.
Cdr. Adama.
I see them now, all gathered, fierce and defiant, near the
very heart of the open space under the englassed dome,
arrayed round the central fountain. Fifty, possibly sixty,
all armed and geared for heavy battle. With them I shall parle.
Dee.
They've not yet opened a docking bay, Commander,
and when they do 'twill be a difficult fit, a needle to thread,
even for one so skilled as Apollo.
Cdr. Adama.
I've been flying Viper since e'fore you were born, Dee.
You needn't worry over my skills with stick and thruster.
Dee.
Sorry sir, but please don't go force against them sir,
paired pistols 'gainst a gross of toasters bearing combat arms.
Cdr. Adama.
Of that we shall see. Patch me through, across
encoded channel, to the command of the Cloud Nine.
I have some things therewhich to discuss that bears upon
the oncoming meeting.
Dee.
Aye sir. Patching you through now. Good luck, and may
the gods be with you.
bridge background
So say we all!
Cdr. Adama.
So say we all. So say we all.
(static noise, buzzing)
Cloud Nine, this is Viper Three. Cloud Nine,
this is Viper Three.
Cpt. Mayhill – Cloud Nine.
This is Cloud Nine. Viper Three, I hope
thou hast brought friends, cause we here are in totality
locked down, awaiting rescue by our vaunted Colonial fleet
sure to soon arrive in o'erwhelming numbers.
Cdr. Adama.
Nay, Cloud Nine. This day you get only me.
Cpt. Mayhill – Cloud Nine.
Well gods be fracked, you get on your
frackin' radio and bid frackin' Adama
to make haste. His esteemed laziness must
get his men in gear and get us some help out here!
Holy frackin' Athena, the man sends forth
but one frackin' Viper to perform the work
of two squadrons and a company of Marines.
Cdr. Adama.
I'll relay unto him the message. But in the
while, he sends me with strict commands
to follow, if you be as competent at
saving your ship as you were at losing it.
Cpt. Mayhill – Cloud Nine.
I cannot be blamed for this! Twas Galactica's
own fault that Cylons penetrated the fleet.
Adama and his incompetent booby hatchery
of a bridge hath doomed us all!
Cdr. Adama.
And two Raptor's clutch o' Cylons thereafter, free
as butterflies, o'er ran and disabled your ship, though
outnumbered fifty to one, like a raging wolf tearing
through packed chickens. Mark me, the situation
is dire and there be not time for recriminations,
and the more you win your arguments, the more
you lose your fight. Yield now your pride or turn away
the only hope of rescue. I have other ships I can visit
that doth give me little gripe about my docking.
Cpt. Mayhill – Cloud Nine.
Apologies, Viper Three. We are all just tense here,
giving our minds free range to elaborate our nightmares.
The Cylons aboard in fair and warlike form,
threatening everyone with most painful death if we dare
deviate one smidge from their ever inscrutable orders,
but they have for some reason passed us back control
of cargo docking bay two, starboard side, amidships,
perchance for your ship to dock therein.
Cdr. Adama.
Thank you, Nine. I need your wits about you.
Have you control of sublight engines, thrusters,
life support, gravity, and such? Answer me quick,
for it bears mightily on escaping your dire predicament.
Cpt. Mayhill – Cloud Nine.
Roger and Aye, Viper Three, we have control of
most all but the passengers, now threatened in our
below decks, but the gods alone know what devious Cylon
devices have been planted in our midst.
Cdr. Adama.
I'm sure there be a bushel of such, but those are
your manifesting fears that doth speak, and to those
voices you must not listen, only to mine. I must ask
you some simple questions, 'bout your ship and its
environs.
Cpt. Mayhill – Cloud Nine.
Ask away, Viper Three. We're all ears and fingers here.
Cdr. Adama.
Are you certain to control your maneuvering
thrusters? Do you have control of the paired airlock
hatches on docking bay two? Do you have control of
your ship's artifical gravity?
Cpt. Mayhill – Cloud Nine.
Double checking here. A moment.
Aye on all counts, Viper Three.
Cdr. Adama.
Thank you, Nine. I'm moving around for docking.
Unfortunately, you may not have a dome left
when I am done.
Cpt. Mayhill – Cloud Nine.
You might wreck the dome? That's half
the frackin' ship! On whose authority do
you risk my ship? Who's gonna repair the
damages, who's gonna pay for it? Just who
do you think you are?
Cdr. Adama.
Bill the boss, Captain, and standby to execute
my order instantly, or your ship is lost.
Cpt. Mayhill – Cloud Nine.
Roger Three. Standing by.
Cdr. Adama.
This is Viper Three, lining up for approach.
On my mark, after the outer airlock seals, giving me
some time to ready, I want you to kill artificial gravity.
Understood, good Captain?
Cpt. Mayhill – Cloud Nine.
Understood, Three, but you can bet
Adama's going to get his ears burnt off by
this. That'll kill gods only know how much
of the gardens.
Cdr. Adama.
Worry not of vegetables, unless a vegetable you wish to be.
Pay strict attention to my commands, more beneificial still,
pass me to your helmsman directly.
Cpt. Mayhill – Cloud Nine. (muffled)
The pilot of the lone Viper wishes to discourse with you, Virgil.
He claims he has orders, but methinks the winged one is
winging it, for good or ill.

Exeunt

SCENE IX. The Cloud Nine, the middle of the garden entrance.

Enter Sixty Cylons, arranged in a semi-circle facing the distant inner cargo door, awaiting Adama's arrival.

Six.
He hovers and drifts, uncertain of his course.
Leoben.
He sits.
Simon.
He stalls.
Doral.
He fears.
Sharon.
Nay, he plots. But what I cannot say.
Leoben.
I will raise him, and rile him. Simon, pass unto me the radio transceiver.
Simon.
Here, good Leoben. Rile him, and rile him well.
Leoben.
Adama, are you there? Or has some mouse crawled
into thine cockpit, now distracting you with a
challenge fit for a pilot as rusty as thyself.
Cdr. Adama.
I am here, and waiting.
Leoben.
It would seem you are drifting. Perchance you hope
for a gust, some fickle nebulous wind, to push you into
the landing bay, thus to avoid a test of your aged brittle bones
and nigh retired reflexes, the which would leave you
banging your frail Viper into hoisted drums and tangling cables,
like a tired and forspent geezer trying to calm a stallion.
Cdr. Adama.
I see the first law of growing old applies to Cylons as well as humans,
the young have no respect, lest their elders teach it hard unto them,
Tis a lesson they shy to learn, and rarely heed, which is why
the young be so commonly common, and the old as rare as gold.
If they'd but respect their fathers, fewer tragedies we'd see unfold.
Leoben.
You speak with celeritous truth, old man, but the great
tragedy of your race was how it treated its children.
Even now you quake to face us, arrayed in our
victorious splendor, our young and spritely feet implanted
on human decks, this ship's turgid souls enpacked below,
helpless to steer their fate 'tween slave and corpse, all
struck dumb and awaiting the arrival of the great Adama,
gods gift to war, now rendered helpless as a lamb, his tongue
forced to discourse with us upon surrender. You hesitate and
stall old man, drifting to starboard like a silver-hair lady
flumoxed 'bout where and how to park.
Cdr. Adama.
Tis truth that I am old, but I be but little older than my ship,
and we have both seen great service, in long ago days,
and will see some service still. Experience we have, and tis
the greatest teacher, and one thing it hath taught me, and teaches
still, is that it is easier to go through doors that stand quite open.
So how is one such as me, looking to get good service, to land
when Cylons young and bold are too flighty and inconstant
to ev' leave open the doors to the bay?
Leoben.
Doors?
Doral.
Frack.
Simon.
Opening outer doors to cargo bay two. I beg pardon, my brotherrs,
I only have partial control, and intermittently still yet.
Leoben.
Your way is paved, and we await your belated arrival.
Permission is granted to come aboard, and to entreat with us,
your dreaded rivals.
Cdr. Adama.
Entering bay. I will face off with you forthwith.
Simon.
Closing outer doors. His hide is ours, come thick or thin.
Leoben.
Welcome, great Adama, our ship is yours, if you can
but take it. Yet if you think to perchance surprise us,
or losing hope, go down in a blaze of glory. Mark this,
we know about your matched pair of gundt forties.
Tis a respected weapon, but a pea-shooter in comparison
to what we brought to subdue this prize, and if you count
Cylons and bullets, we'll retain the advantage, even if your
shooting be perfect.
Cdr. Adama.
Tis true I meant to face you with two guns, and maybe you
saw as much in your flowing stream. But now it seems I'm trapped,
unable to move forward or go back.
Simon.
I'm having some troubles with the exit doors to the landing bay.
Leoben.
Try all the doors, my brother, and quickly. I won't be deprived
of this staged and prideful greeting, especially with this momentum
Simon.
Trying them all, and sweet success, the inner cargo door doth open.
Leoben.
Magnificent. We await your arrival.

Float now the Cylons and other objects as the ship's gravity drops to zero,
followed close thereon by the deck lurching down and stopping. The Cylons
swim in air as a Viper appears from the distant cargo bay, jetting toward them
with burts of thrusters and certain purpose.

Doral.
What the Frack?!
Six.
Grab hold, grab hold of something!
Simon.
Unfairly he cheats us!
Sharon.
Nay, he fairly beats us.
Leoben.
What is this trick he plays! He vexes us!
Cdr. Adama. (filtered)
This old man to which you speak is a Viper pilot, call sign "Husker",
jetting t'you in Viper to strafe your floating, flailing forms.
It wouldst seem your packed welcoming party is fracked,
all floating and spinning front to back. As you have foreseen,
I have indeed brought two guns, but they be more than my
churlish antique pistols. Overdue to qualify at gunnery,
I see floating before my aged eyes the ideal opportunity.
What say you, flapping target drones?
Shall I let eye give guide to finger, or would your rather
discourse on this day's promised surrender?
Doral. (floating)
I have a bead, and will in a moment take his head.
*shot* (he goes tumbling in a circle)
Cdr. Adama. (filtered)
Foolish is as foolish does, and your circus clown clear missed.
I neither die nor tumble, given a fighter's control of rate and attitude,
with gunnery computers and finely beaded target reticles.
I sit snuggly surrounded by instruments that serve nothing but lethality,
while you'll soon float in clouds of piss and corpses. Do you wish to
press your losing game, as I jet at you a bit closer?
Simon.
Leoben, my brother, he dare not shoot those dread
Raider killing cannon lest he crack and rupture the dome.
Relay unto him that his desperate bluff be called.
Leoben.
You do bluff well, brave Adama, but methinks you
think not of where your cannon shot doth go after
it o'er travel us, whether it strike us or strike not.
You will but shatter this great dome and vent
your precious ship and huddled passengers to space.
Now end this childish game. You have made your point
and saved honor enough, but we have serious
business to discuss much.
Cdr. Adama.
You mistake me sir for someone who gives a frack how
your Cylon bodies vent to space, just that they assuredly do.
As for the passengers, you've locked them below,
snugly hostaged behind the ship's pressured doors,
safe from our raids, but safer still from empty space.
So I trust not to my rusty aim to ensure your demise,
I trust to my lack of it. With my first shots, we all go
into the black void in a hurricane of wind and fury,
me hot and free in my Viper, and all of you fool Cylons
venting your life's precious fluids from mouth and nose and ass.
What need have I for accuracy, when in this I cannot miss?
Leoben.
You dare it not!
Cdr. Adama.
I did not don flight suit and helmet to dare, but to win, and for
my part, it would make unto me a shorter path back to Galactica,
avoiding all those hoisted barrels and dangling cables fiercly
hazarding the hangar bay. I urge your surrender nakedly.
Fling your guns and weapons out and away, along with your
clothes so thickly stitched with Cylon perfidity and traps.
The other option involves my cannon finger,
which I promise will be loud, bloody, and brief.
Leoben.
Very well Adama, but your victory will be short,
for this ship is still jumpless before our oncoming fleet.
Cdr. Adama.
In my harsh experience, tis far better to win a fleeting
victory than to lose one, for losing one marks your last.
Doral. (pushing his gun away, hard)
Phase one is undone, and so are we here. Perhaps
we should fall back to plan B, and just jump this
ship to the assembled Cylon fleet. Let our many
Raiders deal with this pesky old Viper.
Sharon.
Would that our interface to their FTL was operated
by remote, stead of tethered fast to the ships control
fibers where we cleverly spliced it in.
Doral.
Then the mission is lost as plan B, and we hadn't
room to pack up a thought to plan C.
Simon. (stripping)
Tis truly lost, for Adama has most boldly outfoxed us this day.
Doral.
There be worse ways to lose than
floating in a cloud of our naked sisters.
Leoben.
Ha! In victory and defeat, you are so much the dog.

Exeunt

SCENE X. The Galactica Hangar Bay.

Enter Helo and Starbuck..

Helo.
How now, Lieutenant Thrace! Come you from the bridge?
Starbuck.
I assure you, there is very excellent news
enlivening the bridge.
Helo.
Is Commander Adama, the Council, and the Cloud Nine safe?
Starbuck.
Commander Adama was as magnificent in battle as Zeus;
and a man that I love and honour with my soul, and my
heart, and my duty, and my life, and my living, and
my utmost power: he is not, Lords be praised and
blessed, any hurt in the battle; but wins back the
Cloud Nine most valiantly, with excellent discipline
and brilliant cunning, leaving the Cylons shame faced
and floating stark naked in mid-air, facing his Viper's angry guns.
Never have I seen the like of it, and sure never will again.
In all the ancient annals of bold strokes, in all the manuals
discoursing profound on the art of war, this morn's stroke will make
the very cover of the book.
Helo.
So the action is over?
Starbuck.
So it wouldst seem. The commander brilliantly captured all
the Cylons arrayed in the dome, and Chuckles and Fireball, praises be,
happened to be in the Nine's lower decks when the Cylon's
arrived, boldy apprehending two others therein.
Our rough Marines have rounded up the assembled prisoners, so now
all that remains is evacuations and recriminations concerning the
crippled Cloud Nine.
Helo.
Must we abandon her?
Starbuck.
Aye. I'm almost certain of it. Baltar, Chief Tyrol
and our engine crew have already flown o'er to look,
and effect repairs, if repairs be possible.

Enter Apollo.

Helo.
Hail good Captain, and congratulations on your
father's stunning success.
Apollo.
Greetings lieutenants, how do you both?
My good father is enroute to arrive, 'twill be his first
trap since I was but a wet, fledgling pilot.
Starbuck.
After his earlier display, I fear not for his safety.
The man could not only land, I swear he could
skillfully thread his Viper all the way to the bridge.
Apollo.
Yet I've logged more flight time underground
than he has under dome.
Starbuck.
Is this going to be a competition, now? To see
which of you is the hottest indoor pilot?
Apollo.
Very so, it would seem.
Helo.
Hark. The commander is on final approach.

Enter Viper with Adama at the stick as the deck crews gather round.
Adama lands, and is verily carried from his cockpit by a host of willing hands.

crowd
Adama. Adama. Adama!
Starbuck.
I must say truly, that was some bold flying, sir.
Cdr Adama.
If I perchance still got paid for that, I would today double it.
Starbuck. (handing the Commander a cigar)
You are the very king. What hear you from the Nine, sir?
Cdr Adama.
Nothing but the rain, Kara. Nothing but the rain.
Yet yon ship still in danger lies. Her fate now rests with
the fine ministrations of our repair crews, with the Cylon
arrival assuredly imminent, they are hard put to the test.
Apollo.
Should I make ready to evacuate her passengers?
Cdr Adama.
At once, just in case, but in order of priority.
The Cylons boarded her, and we don't yet know
the look of all of them. They would not pass this
chance to plant more agents amongst us, to do
mischief and mayhem. Don't allow anyone off
that ship without their personage being thrice verified.
Apollo.
Aye Sir. And the prisoners?
Cdr Adama.
Bring unto us Leoben and Sharon. The rest are best
left where they are, under guard and under lock.
Apollo.
Right as you left them, your bold stroke well done.
Cdr Adama.
I charged straight at their ambush, as I said I would,
leaving them no time to react, a trick that works
when an enemy misjudges you as over cautious.
But enough of that. Follow me to the bridge.
A Cylon fleet may shortly arrive.

Exeunt Adama and Apollo.

Helo.
And again Hark. Here returns the first of our Raptors.

Enter Raptor, which lands and discharges Captain Taylor and Marines,
escorting several Cylons.

Starbuck.
What is this? The very Cylons, who through
subterfuge and plot took over a pleasure ship,
now hand delivered unto the decks of our warship?
Taylor.
Pipe down lieutenant. Fisk wanted them transferred
to the Pegasus for interrogation.
Starbuck.
So your men may frack them without the loss of
chocolate and nylons, pray tell?
Taylor.
That's quite enough, lieutenant. They are
completely my responsibility.
Starbuck.
So thou wouldst hope.
Leoben.
We meet again, lieutenant.
Starbuck.
The circumstances are bad, as always.
Commander Adama has requested your
presence aboard Galactica.
Leoben.
Always the welcoming host. We could've repelled
you on Cloud Nine, but that we thought not good
to exploit a scheme till it were full ripe:
now we speak upon our cue, and our voice
is our God's: Humans shall repent their folly, see
their weakness, and admire our sufferance. Bid Adama
and Roslin to therefore consider our ransom; which must
proportion the power we represent; which in
weight to re-answer, his pettiness would bow under.
For our oncoming forces, your fleet is too poor; for the
soon effusion of your blood, we can only offer our nod,
for things be what they must be.
Starbuck.
Of that we will see. Losing three score of your
picked and emplaced best to a single gray haired pilot
is to me an augury. Mark me. I've flushed you once,
and when befuddled by a stubborn turd
that won't go down, I flush twice.
Sharon.
Hello Starbuck. It seems I am home.
Taylor.
Sorry to interupt your apparent reunion,
but these be my prisoners.
Starbuck.
I remind you that the number of them
you captured stands at zero, whilst the
number Galactica's brave commander
captured is pronounced as "all". Shall I
waste twenty good steps to pick up a phone
and have him repeat the order for those whose
ears and judgement are clogged with wax?
Taylor.
That won't be necessary, lieutenant, but
am I free to take the rest?
Starbuck.
So it wouldst seem. These two can come
with me, if you are willing to spare a few Marines.
Taylor.
Tis done and done. I'll now depart with my
prizes, information them from to pressure out.

Exeunt Taylor, some Marines, and the rest of the Cylons.

Helo.
And another hark to mark another Raptor, now arriving.

Enter Raptor, which lands and discharges Chuckles, Fireball,
and a pair of scantily clad Sixes.

Starbuck.
My my. Upon my soul, I don't know whether their
exploits be bravery or knavery.
Helo.
You must admit, their taste be good, and her like
can put up quite a fight.
Starbuck.
Admittedly so.
Chuckles.
Hail. We brought thee these two nefarious prisoners.
I suggest you guard them both, for our bruises give
testament to their ferocity.
Starbuck.
Well, hi and hail to heroes both! Did the ladies really
bruise you, or did you bang your head into another
overburdened fridge?
Fireball.
You dare insult us, madam, after such a hard and
desperate struggle, with just we two defending
the thousands of people held hostage on the Nine?
Starbuck.
I do dare it.
Chuckles.
Well if someone would take these two off our hands,
we will be on our way.
Helo.
As you wish. The may accompany me to the brig.
Fireball.
No need to thank us for saving you all.

Exeunt All.

ACT II

PROLOGUE

Enter Chorus

Chorus
Now all the people of the Colonies perspire,
And a scheming dalliance in the air lies:
Now thrive the repair crews, and nightmare thought
Reigns solely on the brow of every man:
They prepare the Galictica now to house the Council,
Following the manuals of all crisis response,
With winged patrols, as Colonial Vipers,
For now sit expectantly in space about the fleet
And fly a screen pattern from rear unto the point
With DRADIS inquiring, frowns and check six,
Emited by the squadrons and the fleet.
The Cylons, captured by Adama's bold recklessness,
Note this most unwelcome preparation,
Shake in their fear and with patent ploys
Seek to divert the Colonial purposes.
O Galactica! model to thy inward greatness,
Like little body with a mighty heart,
What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do,
Were all thy crew loyal and honorable!
But see thy fault! Cylons hath in thee found out
A nest of traitorous bosoms, which they fill
With treacherous promises; and two corrupted men,
One called as Chuckles and the second Fireball,
Have, for the gilt and thigh of Cylons,--O guilt indeed!
Confirm'd conspiracy with fearful Cylons,
And by their hands this grace of peace must die,
If hell and treason hold their promises,
Ere they take ship for Caprica, and in the engine room.
Linger your patience on; and we'll digest
The abuse of distance; force a play:
The sum is on the table; the traitors are agreed;
The Galactica is set and unsuspecting; and the scene
Is now transported, gentles, to the Nine;
There is the computer monitor now, there must you sit:
And thence to the fleet shall we convey you safe,
And bring you back, charming the yawning spaces
To give you gentle pass; for, if we may,
We'll not offend one stomach with our play.
But, till the Commander come forth, and not till then,
Unto the Cloud Nine do we shift our scene.

Exit

SCENE I. Tom Zarek's Office on Cloud Nine.

Zarek.
Play; I am bound to hear.
Marcus.
So art thou to cringe, when thou shalt hear.
Zarek.
What? At what foul act did we catch Roslin this time?
Marcus.
Our bug of her office implicated not Roslin,
Good Sir, but two others we know too well,
A familiarity of which I am now ashamed.
These be thy kindred spirits in illegality,
Doom'd now, is certain, to vent from airlock,
For this day, caught fast in Cylon plots,
Their foul crimes exceed the worst days of my nature.
I beg you, these two should be burnt and purged away.
But that I am forbid to tell the secrets of your schemes,
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!
If thou didst ever thy dear reputation love--
Zarek.
O God!
Marcus.
Expose this foul and most unnatural perfidity!
Zarek.
Treason and plot!
Marcus.
A plot most foul, as in the best it is;
But this most foul, strange and unnatural.
Zarek.
Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to warn the others.
Marcus.
I find thee rapt;
And duller shouldst thou be than a fat sheep
That gorges itself in ease in a luscious meadow,
Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Zarek, hear:
'Tis given out that, eavesdropping on Roslin's offices,
A Cylon seduced two of Galactica's men; our men;
So filling the whole ear of our spy cam,
That we have captured their scheme entire.
I know you hath been rankly abused: but know,
thou noble convict, the government that did sting
away they life, and that thou hopes to lead,
now lies in direst jeopardy, perhaps to fall our
own two traitorous seeds.
Zarek.
O my prophetic soul! My future!
Marcus.
Ay, that promiscuous, that seductive beast,
With witchcraft of her hips, with traitorous gifts,--
O wicked hip and gifts, that have the power
So to seduce!—used their shameful lust to bend
The will of these most loyal-seeming thieves:
O Zarek, what a falling-off there was!
From me, whose love was of that dignity
That it went hand in hand even with the vow
I made to thee, and to plot against a wretch
Whose natural gifts at leadership were poorer
Than those of thine!
But virtue, as it never will be moved,
though her lewdness pry it with promises of heaven,
So lust, though to a wholesome purpose link'd,
Will sate itself in a Cylon bed, and sell us all as garbage.
Zarek.
O all thee gods in heaven! O frack! what else?
And shall I trouble to tell? O, fie! Know, know my heart;
And you, my honour, do battle with my ambition,
grow not frightened of the coming choice, but
bear it up stiffly. I remember them well.
Ay, the two poor pilots, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. I remember them!
Yea, from the tables in my computers,
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
Purge them all from my books, all notes, all debts past,
That prudence and observation copied there;
And by wise caution all ties shall live
Within the volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with printed matter: yes, by heaven!
O most pernicious schemes!
O villains, villains, horny, greedy, damned villain!
My ambitions,--demand that I sell them down,
That I may smile, and inform, and be a villain;
At least I'm sure it may be so if handled promptly.

Types commands at a terminal

So, two treasonous knaves, there you are. Now to my word;
It is 'Frack you!' remember me.' I have seen to it.

Horace. (within)
Mr Zarek, Mr. Zarek,--
Zarek.
In here.
Horace. (within)
Hello, ho, ho, Mr. Zarek!
Zarek.
Hello, ho, ho, boy! come, fierced gun, come.
Enter HORACE
Marcus.
How is't, my noble companion?
Horace.
What news, Mr. Zarek?
Zarek.
O, just frackin' wonderful!
Horace.
How so my sir, tell it.
Zarek.
No; you'll reveal it.
Horace.
Not I, my lord, by the gods.
Marcus.
Nor would I let him, my lord.
Zarek.
How say you, then; would heart of man once think it?
But you'll be both secret?
Horace & Marcus.
Ay, by the gods, my lord.
Zarek.
There's ne'er a worse pair of villains than
Our pair of thieving pilots dwelling in all the fleet.
But they're arrant and traitorous knaves.
Horace.
There needs no hidden mic, my lord, implanted
in Presidential office, to tell us this.
Zarek.
Why, right; you are i' the right;
And so, without more circumstance at all,
I hold it fit that we shake hands and part:
You, as your business and desire shall point you;
For every man has business and desire,
Such as it is; and for mine own poor part,
Look you, I'll go pray.
Horace.
These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.
Zarek.
I'm sorry they offend you, heartily;
Yes, 'faith heartily.
Horace.
There's no offence, my lord.
Zarek.
Yes, by Athena, but there is, Horace,
And much offence too. Touching this tape here,
It is an honest recording, that let me tell you:
For your desire to know what is between us,
O'ermaster 't as you may. And now, good friends,
As you are friends, scholars and convicts,
Give me one poor request.
Horace.
What is't, my lord? we will.
Zarek.
Never make known what you may have o'erheard in here.
Horace & Marcus.
My lord, we will not.
Zarek.
Nay, but swear't.
Horace & Marcus.
We do swear.
Zarek.
Then let us from here depart. There is much
Work, and more thought,
If we are to survive this alarming plot,
To warn the fleet and not get caught.

Exeunt all.

oooooooh... deep

Too long. Read the first page or so.

Thoughts:
1) Cute.
2) You've got WAY too much time on your hands!

cool

Dear God help me, its in Iambic Pentameter!

Thanks all, if anyone is left after that looooong post. I'm still working on Act II, though Act III is mostly finished. Here's the short synopsis of how I'll approach the rest of Act II.




SCENE II. A Meeting Room - Galactica.

Enter – The Council of Twelve, President Roslin, and Tigh

-- The usual screaming with Tigh, the Council, and the press.

SCENE III. Small Quarters.

Enter – Horace and Tom Zarek.

-- A Hamlet moment. Horace and Zarek debate letting Galactica get sabotaged, which will free the fleet of military dominance, and quite possibly of Roslin and the council, leaving Zarek in charge. Zarek wars with himself over what to do. He fears that Chuckles and Fireball would implicate him in the murder of his hit man during the Colonial Day episode.

SCENE IV. Hangar Maintenance Room.

Enter – Chuckles and Fireball.

-- They debate whether to go through with the scheme. They get cold feet.
They realize they can just kill Six and nobody will be the wiser, so they depart
to carry out the dirty deed. They discuss their previous murder of Zarek's man.

SCENE V. The Bridge. (or on the Cloud Nine)

Enter – Roslin, Baltar, Cdr. Adama, Apollo, Tigh, Gaeta, Dee.

-- They get updates on the repairs to the Cloud Nine. The FTL's local diagnostics say it's fine, and a visual inspection reveals no obvious sabotage, but it won't respond to commands from the Cloud Nine's bridge. Adama worries that he has a Cylon on board Galactica, since Leoben knew about the pair of pistols he brought. Gaeta reminds him that Dee mentioned them over the radio, in the clear, and the Cylon's could've guessed he brought his antique set, which was public knowledge from a pre-attack
interview.

SCENE VI. The Brig.

Enter – Six, Chuckles, and Fireball.

-- Six reminds them that the reporter still has the dirt on them. She also points out that as she'll be resurrected, she will seek vengeance, as in her case "God sees everything." She finally points out that as horribly outnumbered Viper pilots in a losing war, they are destined for inevitable death, to one day be replaced by other pilots.

They have their "woe is me" and "to be or not to be" moment, and decide to carry out the plan. They depart, and the other Cylon's discuss Six's brilliant strategy. They don't realize that one of the Cylons was already there, Galactica Sharon, who they mistake for one of their own captured Sharons. Sharon overhears the plans, but can't hear or see the pilots clearly (since the conversation is over the prisoner phone).

SCENE VII. Commander Adama's Quarters.

Enter – Roslin, Baltar, Cdr. Adama, Apollo.

They discuss the risks of evacuating everyone from the Cloud Nine, versus their responsibilites – military versus civilian government. Frustrated by the lack of progress, Roslin suggests asking Galactica Sharon if she can help with the FTL problem.

SCENE VIII. The Galactica's aft FTL control room.

Enter – Chuckles, and Fireball.

They chat their way past the officer on duty, then subdue him, and continue to chat as they sabotage the FTL.

SCENE IX. Commander Adama's Quarters.

Enter – Adama, Tigh, Apollo, Roslin

They discuss their military situation.

Enter – Zarek, Sharon, Marines.

Zarek asks to see the Commander as Sharon arrives in chains. They both
blurt the same story. Zarek demands confidential immunity in return for identifying the conspirators. Adama choses military necessity over creating another gov't scandal, and Zarek identifies the two. Adama gives the alert, and upon hearing that they were last scene heading toward FTL control, gets on the intercom to them.

They start issuing denials, then boast that they'll just sit tight till the Cylon's rescue them. Adama et. al know it will be some minutes before the Marines will arrive, and that the hatch will be locked and jammed. Adama orders the compartment vented to space. They hear screams, then silence.

Sharon breaks the silence by mentioning that the Cylon's tried to maintain control of Cloud Nine's FTL by splicing in a separate controller that pretends to talk to the bridge, so to avoid detection, but still allowing full FTL capability, in case the Cylon's had to just steal the Cloud Nine.

SCENE X. The Bridge.

They all move to the bridge, and Adama relays the message to the repair crews on the Nine. The crews report their fix just as the Cylon fleet arrives. Adama orders the fleet to jump away, while he delays his own jump out of fear that the FTL control room needs an immediate inspection, lest the sabotage isn't completed until the FTL is engaged.

Sharon adds that the Cylon's couldn't yet know if the FTL was truly sabotaged or not, though they may soon infer it. Adama realizes that the Cylon's don't realize Galactica Sharon is not one of the Cloud Nine Sharons, and asks if she'll stay undercover to help Galactica. She agrees.


*********

If anyone wants to try their hand at some scenes, please do! I just google up some Shakespeare scenes and go at it. I wonder if some passages from King Lear would make a good Baltar scene to add in to this mess?

Oh, what the heck. Here's part of Act III

ACT III

PROLOGUE

Enter Chorus

Chorus
Now entertain conjecture of a time
When a fleeing fleet and probing dark ships
Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
From jump to jump through the empty womb of space
The crumbs of a surviving fleet stilly moves,
Pursued and outnumbered by a dread horde.
Like a fleet fox fleeing with her host
From a pack of baying hounds.
Eluding them, outracing them, until, one dark inevitable day,
Some sinew in her fast tan legs doth snap,
And she marks her spot and stands to fight the dogs.
So too the injured Galactica is forced to stand to and fight.
Encircled, the two enemies' perked antennas receiving
The secret whispers of each other's watch
Sweep greets sweep, and through their pale signals
Each fleet senses the other's lumbering ships;
Probe ship threatens scout ship in high and boastful whines
Piercing the spaces empty aether, and on the flight decks
The armourers ready the fighters,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Giving dreadful note of preparation:
The warning claxons drone, the clocks do toll,
And the third hour of drowsy morning came.

Proud of their numbers and secure in soul,
The confident and over-lusty Cylons
Do the low-rated Colonials play at dice;
And chide the crippled tardy-gaited ship
Who, like a fouled and rusting hulk, doth limp
So tediously away. The poor condemned Colonials,
Like sacrifices, by the red battle lights
Sit patiently and inly ruminate
The morning's danger, and their gesture sad
Investing lank-lean; greased cheeks and war-worn coats
Presenteth them unto the gazing stars
So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will behold
The mighty commander of this ruin'd band
Walking from hatch to hatch, from stem to stern
Crying 'So say we all', and 'To battle are we sped!'
Sallying forth he goes and visits all his crew.
Bids them good morrow with a modest smile
And calls them brothers, friends, and shipmates.
Upon his calm and loyal face there is no note
How dread a fleet hath surrounded them;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
Unto the weary and all-watched night,
But freshly looks and over-bears attaint
With cheerful semblance and sweet softness;
That every tired crewman, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks:
A largess universal like the sun
His liberal eye doth give to every one,
Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all,
Behold, as may unworthiness define,
A little touch of Adama in the night.
And so our scene must to the battle fly;
Where--O for pity!--we shall much disgrace
With four or five most bedraggled pilots,
Right ill-disposed in brawl ridiculous,
All for the sake of Galactica. Yet sit and see,
Minding true things by what their mockeries be.
Exit
--
KING HENRY = Adama
BEDFORD = Baltar
ERPINGHAM = Tigh
GLOUCESTER = Roslin
PISTOL = Kat
FLUELLEN = Hotdog
GOWER = Helo

soldiers
JOHN BATES = Tyrol
ALEXANDER COURT = Cally
MICHAEL WILLIAMS
--

SCENE I. The lower decks.

Enter Commander Adama, Dualla

Cdr. Adama
Dee, it is true that we are in great danger;
With our FTL some hours till repaired.
The greater therefore should our courage be.
There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
Would men observingly distil it out.
For our present danger makes us early stirrers,
Burning away our sloth and rousing us to arms:
Besides, our soulless foes are our outward consciences,
And preachers to us all, admonishing
That we warriors should not lie and die abed.
Thus may we gather strength from strife,
And make our fight after flight enough.

Enter Tigh with a blanket draped across his shoulders

Good morrow, Saul:
A good soft pillow for that good white head
Were better than the hard pad of a hot bunk.
Tigh
Not so, my liege: this lodging likes me better,
Since I may say 'Now lie I like an Admiral.'
Cdr. Adama
'Tis good for men to love their present pains
Upon example; so the spirit is eased:
When the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt,
And indecision is washed away, pressed aside by certainty
Hands find their tasks and men their places
Our true roles on this ship is at our battle stations.
Lend me thy blanket, Colonel Tigh.
Commend me to the officers in the bridge;
Do my good word to them, and anon
I'll to my place o'er this Cylon pack doth lunge.
Tigh
Shall I relieve you for some sleep, Commander?
Cdr. Adama
No, my good exec;
Go with the others to the bridge:
I and my crew must debate awhile,
And then I would no other company,
Before such a fight as this.
Tigh
The Lords of Kobol bless thee, Bill.

Exeunt all but Commander Adama

Cdr. Adama
God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak'st cheerfully.

Adama wanders through the darkened ship, enrobed in the blanket.

Enter Kat

Kat.
Who are you.
Cdr. Adama.
A friend.
Kat.
Tell me; art thou an officer?
Or art thou enlisted?
Cdr. Adama.
My post these days is but a weapons' tech.
Kat.
Push at buttons below a screen, you do?
Cdr. Adama.
Even so. What are you?
Kat.
As fine a pilot as Starbuck.
Cdr. Adama.
Then you are a better than the Commander.
Kat.
The Commander's a hardass, and a heart of gold,
As big as life, a legend;
Of judgment good, at the stick most valiant.
I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heart-string
I love the lovely bully. What is thy name?
Cdr. Adama.
Bill el Boss.
Kat.
El Boss! a Virgon name: art thou from Virgon crew?
Cdr. Adama.
No, I am a Caprican
Kat.
Know'st thou Tigh?
Cdr. Adama.
Yes.
Kat.
Tell him, I'll knock his teeth about his jaw
Upon Athena's day.
Cdr. Adama.
Do not you bear your jaw to brazenly his way,
lest he knock out a few of yours.
Kat.
Art thou his friend?
Cdr. Adama.
And an old one, too.
Kat.
The figo for thee, then!
Cdr. Adama.
I thank you: God be with you!
Kat.
My name is Kat call'd.

Exit

Cdr. Adama.
It goes well with your fierceness.

Enter Helo and Hotdog

Helo.
Ensign!
Hotdog.
So! in the name of Zeus, what is this strategem? It is
the greatest admiration of the Colonial fleet when
the true and tested prerogatives and rules of
war are kept: if you would take the pains but to
examine the third war against Geminon, you shall
find, I warrant you, that there was no idle idling or
poseying patrols around the Sagitaran fleet;
I bet that thou would'st find standard procedure, and the
cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety
of it, and the modesty of it, wisely followed in those brave days.
Helo.
Why? The enemy will hold back; you see them plainly.
Hotdog.
If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a strutting
careless wretch, is it meet, think you, that we should also,
look you, be an ass and a fool and a careless
wretch? in your own good conscience, now?
Helo.
I will meet mine enemy when they are best met, and not before.
Hotdog.
Well, I pray you and beseech you that you will.

Exeunt Helo and Hotdog

Cdr. Adama.
Though it appear a little early for such passion,
There is much care and valour in this ensign.

Enter three crewmen, Chief Tyrol, Cally, and MICHAEL WILLIAMS

JOHN BATES = Tyrol
ALEXANDER COURT = Cally
MICHAEL WILLIAMS = Jammer

Cally
Chief, do the Base Stars not draw closer?
Chief Tyrol.
I think they be: but we have no great cause to desire
the approach of the coming hours.
Jammer.
We'll yonder see the beginning of the battle, but I think
we shall never see the end of it. Who goes there?
Cdr. Adama.
A friend.
Jammer.
Under what officer serve you?
Cdr. Adama.
Under Captain Apollo
Jammer.
A good commander and a most kind gentleman: I
pray you, what thinks he of our state?
Cdr. Adama.
Much as men with engines out and spiraling toward an orb,
that look to be burnt up with the next pass.
Cally.
He hath not told his thought to his father?
Cdr. Adama.
No; nor it is not meant he should.
For, though I speak it to you,
I think Commander Adama is but a man, as I am:
The ambrosia tastes to him as it doth to me:
He can count ships as well as me;
all his judgements are but human opinions:
His exalted rank laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man;
and though his responsibilities are higher mounted than ours,
yet, when they weigh, they press with all the weight a man can bear.
Therefore when he sees reason of fears, as we do,
his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish as ours are:
Yet, in reason, no man should behold in him any appearance of fear,
Lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his crew.
Cally.
He may show what outward courage he will;
But I believe, as cold as this space is, he would wish
himself floating off Caprica beach up to the neck;
and so I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here.
Cdr. Adama.
By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the Commander
I think he would not wish himself any where but where he is.
Cally.
Then I would he were here alone; so we with the rest of
the fleet, and a many poor men's lives saved.
Cdr. Adama.
I dare say you love him not so ill, to wish him here
alone, howsoever you speak this to feel other men's
minds: methinks I could not die any where so contented
as in the Commander's company; our position being
grave and his decision honourable.
Jammer.
That's more than we know.
Cally.
Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know
enough, if we know we are under the Commander's orders:
If his decision be wrong, our obedience to him wipes
the fault of it out of us.
Jammer.
But if the position be not good, Adama himself hath
a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and
arms and heads, chopped off in battle, shall join
together at the latter day and cry all 'We died in
such a place in such a space;'
some swearing, some crying for a surgeon,
some with their breath rent from them,
some leaving nothing but their pictures in some file,
some their children still behind.
I am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle; for how can they
charitably dispose of any thing, when blood is the argument?
Now, if these men's deaths prove needless, it
will be a black matter for the Commander that led them to
it; whom to disobey were against all proportion of subjection.
Cdr Adama.
So, if a man volunteers to serve in the fleet,
and serve the government that sent him, the
imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be
imposed upon his father than sent him: or upon
his recruiter. Or if a man in going to the store to fetch
some milk and eggs be killed in an accident,
you may place his death on his widow's head: but this is not so:
the commander is not bound to answer the particular endings of his
crewmen, the father of his son, nor the wife of her husband;
for they purpose not their death when they purpose their services.

No fit commander canst allow a fourth or a half
of his sworn men to surrender, not before the matter
is put to trial in combat, fairly testing the mettle of the enemy,
and yet pretend himself a commander worthy of the rank.
Some of these men would no doubt be seduced
by sirens' airs, their fair and ample bosoms, and some ladies
too might woo. What good leader would not hang himself in
shame to see his crew split up, each man going where he will,
if not split by their own free decisions, then by commander's orders
or by the Cylons' druthers and tastes, choosing some and culling others.

We are Colonial Fleet and Marines, not a herd to be bred
or a crop to be sowed and reaped at leisure. If the commander would but
listen to me, for my part I'd rather put up a fight for the ages than
be led off in ranks as furrows to be plowed, tested for fertility,
used and discarded as chaff or plumbed as a cow,
all to build up the ranks of our one dread enemy.
If I am selected, would I wave to my cousins and uncles,
my shipmates and bunkmates, they being led off
to the gallows or ovens as surplus stock?
Perhaps one doth have a mole that would'st draw Cylon disgust,
a hunched back or crooked teeth or nose hairs unkempt.
These things are but small to me, compared to a strong proud heart,
honorable nature, courage, and propriety. What be the measure of a man,
when measured by a man, compared to the measure of a man,
as measured by an ill-built man farmer? No. Not for any of us do I say,
I say for the all of us. If I am to be judged, my life weighed on the scales,
I'll place my faith in the judgement of the gods, not the high author
of these dark and twisted Cylon schemes and attrocities.

If we try our mightily aggrieved arms in fight, each man leaveth his fate
to the decisions of the gods and his shipmates, not some fickle appliance.
Every crewman's duty is the ship's; but every crewman's
soul is his own. Therefore should everyone in this battle
do as every sick man facing death in his bed.
Wash every spot out of his conscience: and dying so, death
is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was
blessedly used wherein such preparation was gained:
and in him that escapes, it were not sin to think
that, making the gods so free an offer, the Lords of Kobol let him
outlive that day to see the gods' greatness and to teach
others how they should prepare.
Jammer.
'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon
his own head, the commander is not to answer it.
Would that we were all freed of Cylon judgements
by choosing battle and our own end over life misspent.
Cally.
But I do not desire the commander should answer for me;
and yet I determine to fight lustily for him.
Cdr. Adama.
Fight as you will, I myself heard Adama say he would not be captured.
Jammer.
Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully: but when
our throats are cut, he may be captured, and we ne'er the wiser.
Cdr. Adama.
If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.
Jammer.
You pay him then. That's a perilous shot out of an
old and rusty gun, that a poor and private displeasure can
do against our commander! you may as well go about to
turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a
bird's feather. You'll never trust his word
after! come, 'tis a foolish saying.
Cdr. Adama.
Your reproof is something too round: I should be
angry with you, if the time were convenient.

Jammer.
Let it be a quarrel between us, if we live.
Cdr. Adama.
I embrace it.
Jammer.
How shall I know thee again?
Cdr. Adama.
Give me any of thine, and I will keep it in my
pocket: then, if ever thou darest acknowledge it, I
will make it my quarrel.
Jammer.
Here's my glove: give me another of thine.
Cdr. Adama.
There.
Jammer.
This will I also wear in my cap: if ever thou come
to me and say, after to-morrow, 'This is my glove,'
by this hand, I will take thee a box on the ear.
Cdr. Adama.
If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.
Jammer.
Thou darest as well be hanged.
Cdr. Adama.
Well. I will do it, though I take thee in the
king's company.
Jammer.
Keep thy word: fare thee well.
Cally.
Be friends, you silly fools, be friends: we have
Cylon quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon.
Cdr. Adama.
Indeed, the Cylons may lay twenty Cylon cubits to
one, they will beat us; for they bear them on their
shoulders: but it is no treason to cut Cylon's down,
and tomorrow Adama himself will be a clipper.

Exeunt crewmen

Cdr. Adama. (cont'd)
Upon the commander! let us our lives, our souls,
Our dreams, our children, our species,
and our perilous fate lie upon the commander!
I must bear all. O hard decision,
Twin-born with rank and an old ship's luck
Every fool, whose sense no more can feel
But his own wringing, his own needs! What infinite heart's-ease
Must commanders neglect that raw privates enjoy!
And what have commanders that privates have not, too?

Save stress, and pressure?
And what art thou, thou idle ceremony?
What kind of gods art thou, that suffer'st more
Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
What are thy rents? what are thy comings in?
O ceremony, show me but thy worth!
What is thy soul of adoration?
Art thou aught else but place, degree and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?
Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd
Than they in fearing.
What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!
Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out
With titles blown from adulation?
Will it give place to flexure and low bending?
Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
That play'st so subtly with a commander's repose;
I am a commander that find thee, and I know
'Tis not the balm, the insignia and the rank,
The voice of command, the captain's quarters,
The uniform with stars and ribbons,
The farced title running 'fore the king,
The deck he paces, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of this world,
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,
Can sleep so soundly as the wretched recruit,
Who with a body fill'd and vacant mind
Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell,
But, like a lackey, from the rise to set
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus and all night
Sleeps in Elysium; next day after dawn,
Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse,
And follows so the ever-running year,
With profitable labour, to his grave:
And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,
Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of an admiral.
The fresh recruit, a member of the country's peace,
Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots
What watch the admiral keeps to maintain the peace,
Whose hours the private best advantages.

Enter Tigh

Tigh.
My lord, your officers, jealous of your absence,
Seek through the ship to find you.
Cdr. Adama.
Good old sir,
Collect them all together at my quarters:
I'll be before thee.
Tigh.
I shall do't, my lord.

Exit

Cdr. Adama.
O God of battles! steel my crewmens' hearts;
Possess them not with fear; take from them now
The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers
Pluck their hearts from them. Not today, O Lords,
O, not to-day, think not upon the fault
We made in abandoning our own!
I this fleet have guided this far;
And from it have had more nightly fears
Than from all my previous posts and stations summed.
Fifteen hundred passengers have we struck down,
Who must've held their weeping hands up
Toward heaven and prayed for deliverance.
But we can only sing still for their poor souls,
And hope they'll pardon the blood we shed.
More will I do, if we can but continue on our course,
Though all that I can do is nothing worth more
Than to find our long lost cousin's planet,
and implore pardon.
Dee. (filtered)
Commander Adama, report to the CIC!
Cdr. Adama.
Tigh's raspy voice? Ay;
(into a handset)
I know thy errand, I'm headed thence at once:
The day, my friends and all things stay for me.

Exeunt

Act III. Scene II.

Scene II.—A Cylon Base Star in orbit near a yellow sun

Enter Leoben, Simon.

Leoben.
The sun doth gild our Centurions' armour: up, my boys!
Simon.
My Heavy Raider! My Raider! Trusty steed! ha!
Leoben.
O brave spirit! Their destiny awaits.
Simon.
Vipers! Let's kill them all here!
Leoben.
That we shall - when we fire.
Simon.
We will fill the sky! cousin Leoben.

Enter D'Anna

D'Anna.
Now, my fellows.
Hark how our Raiders for present service do rev!
Leoben.
Load them up, and make incision in their hides,
That their hot blood may spit on canopied eyes,
And douse them with superfluous courage: ha!
D'Anna.
What! will you have their wipers smear our Raiders' blood?
How shall we then behold their helmeted fear?

Enter Doral.

Doral.
The Colonials are embattail'd, my Cylon peers.
Simon.
Into formation, gallant Raiders! straight to their fleet!
Do but behold yon poor and starved band,
And your fair show shall suck away their souls,
Leaving them but the shales and husks of men.
There is not work enough for all our guns;
Scarce humans enough in all their sickly ships
To give each Cylon gun a target,
That our Centurion gallants shall to-day draw out,
And sheathe for lack of sport: let us but blow on them,
The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.
'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,
That our superfluous Centurians and Raiders,
Who in unnecessary action swarm
About in squares of battle, were enow
To purge this space of such a hiding foe,
Though we upon this star's orbit by
Took stand for idle speculation:
But that our honours must not. What's to say?
A very little little let us do,
And all is done. Then let the missiles loose
The Raiders pounce and the host to rout:
For our approach shall so much dare the fleet,
That Galactica shall stand down in fear and yield.

Enter Six.

Six.
Why do you stay so long, my Cylons?
Yon circling Raiders desperate of their foes,
Ill-favour'dly become the Colonial fleet:
Their ragged formations poorly kept and loose,
And our Raiders shake them passing scornfully:
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host,
And vainly though a rusty hauler creeps:
The Vipers sit like fixed candlesticks,
With joysticks in their hand; their poor pilots
Throttle down their revs, dropping the flaps and speed,
The antiques down-coasting from their slow-dead glides,
And in their pale dull hulls the joystick sits
foul with greasy sweat, still and motionless;
And their executors, the Raider host,
Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour.
Description cannot suit itself in words
To demonstrate the life of such squadrons of wing
In life so lifeless as it shows itself.
Simon.
They have said their prayers, and they stay for death.
Six.
Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits,
And give their starved Vipers fuel,
And after fight with them?
Simon.
I stay but for my ship: on, to the fleet!
I will the banner from Galactica take,
And use it for my waste. Come, come, away!
The sun is bright, and we outwear our stay.

[Exeunt..]

Scene III. – The Galactica Bridge

Enter the Galactica CIC crew; TIGH, DUALLA,
GAETA, APOLLO, and BALTAR.

Tigh.
Where is Adama?
Dualla.
The commander himself is off to view their fleet.
Gaeta.
DRADIS says of Raiders they have full three-score thousand.
Baltar.
That's a hundred to one; besides, they all are fresh.
Apollo.
Lords' arms strike with us! 'tis fearful odds.
Lords be wi' you, pilots all; I'll to my Viper:
If we no more meet till we meet in Kobol,
Then, joyfully, my noble Lieutenant Dualla,
Colonel Tigh, and my good Lieutenant Gaeta,
And my brave flight crew, warriors all adieu!
Dualla.
Farewell, good Apollo; and good luck
go with thee!
Gaeta.
Farewell, kind captain. Fly valiantly today:
And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it,
For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour.

[Exit APOLLO. ]

Dualla.
He is as full of valour as of kindness;
Princely in both.

Enter COMMANDER ADAMA.

Tigh.
O! that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in Caprica
That feed the worms today.
Cdr. Adama.
What's he that wishes so?
Gaius Baltar? No, my XO:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our fleet loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Zeus, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my hold;
It yearns me not if men Colonial uniforms wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my vice, wish not a man from the fleet:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me,
For the best hope I have. O! do not wish one more:
Rather proclaim it, Baltar, through the fleet,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his jump shall be laid,
And coords for rendevous put into his comp:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Colonial Day:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Galactica.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say, 'To-morrow is Colonial Day:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and shows his scars,
And say, 'These wounds I had on Colonial Day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Adama the Commander, Dualla and Gaeta,
Starbuck and Apollo, Hotdog and Racetrack,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Colonial Day shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the human race,
But we in it shall be remembered;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile
This day shall raise his rank:
And gentlemen on Cloud Nine, now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Colonial Day.
Gaeta. (Looking at DRADIS)
My sov'reign commander, bestow yourself with speed:
The Cylons are bravely in their formations set,
And will with all expedience charge on us.
Cdr. Adama.
All things are ready, if our minds be so.
Tigh.
Frack the man whose mind is backward now!
Cdr. Adama.
Thou dost not wish more help from the Colonies, Colonel?
Tigh.
Gods' will! Commander, would you and I alone,
Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
Cdr. Adama.
Why, now thou hast unwish'd five thousand Vipers;
Which likes me better than to wish us one.
You know your places: Gods be with you all!

Enter LEOBEN.

Leoben.
Once more I come to know of thee, Commander Adama,
If for thy surrender thou wilt now offer,
Before thy most assured overthrow:
For certainly thou art so near the gulf
Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy,
The Cylon god desires thee thou wilt mind
Thy followers of repentance; that their souls
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire
From out of this space, where, wretches, their poor bodies
Must float and fester.
Cdr. Adama.
Who hath sent thee now?
Leoben.
The one you call Six.
Cdr. Adama.
I pray thee, bear my former answer back:
Bid them achieve me and then breed my bones.
Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus?
The man that once did sell the lion's skin
While the beast liv'd, was kill'd with hunting him.
A many of our Vipers shall no doubt
Find spacely graves; inside the which, I trust,
Shall some pilot, live in cockpit, witness this day's work;
And those that leave their valiant bones in Space,
Dying like men, though drifting in the wreckage,
They shall be fam'd; for there the sun shall greet them,
And send their honours seeking off to Kobol
Leaving their earthly parts to choke this place,
The smell whereof shall breed a nebula in space.
Marking here the abounding valour in our pilots,
That being dead, by the cannon's grazing,
Break out into a second course of glory,
Thrilling in relapse of mortality.
Let me speak proudly: tell number Six,
We are but warriors for the working-day;
Our Vipers and their gear are all besmirch'd
With nothing but the rain dancing on our ships;
There's not a piece of network in our host—
Good argument, I hope, we will fight—
And time hath worn us into slovenry:
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim;
And my poor pilots tell me, yet ere night
They'll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck
The gray new guns off the Cylon Raiders' wings,
And turn them out of service. If they do this,—
As, if God please, they shall,—my fleet then
Will soon be elsewhere. Herald, save thou thy labour;
Come thou no more for terms, Cylon herald:
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints;
Which if they have as I will leave 'em them,
Shall yield them little, tell number Six.
Leoben.
I shall. Commander Adama. And so, fare thee well:
Thou never shalt hear herald any more. [Exit.]
Cdr. Adama.
I fear thou'lt once more come again for terms.

Enter TYROL.

Tyrol.
Commander, most humbly on my knee I beg
The launching of the Vipers.
Cdr. Adama.
Take it, brave Chief.
Now, Vipers - launch away:
And how thou pleasest. Gods, dispose the day!

[Exeunt.]

SCENE IV. The dogfight.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter Starbuck, Cylon, and Caprica Sharon, in Viper, Raider, and Raptor.

Starbuck.
Yield, toaster!
Cylon (filtered)
I think you are a pilot of good quality.
Starbuck.
Bleepety Bleep de Bloop Tweet?! Art thou an officer?
A squadron commander?
what is thy name and rank? discuss.
Cylon. (filtered)
O deadly Viper!
Starbuck.
O, Raider, should you be an officer:
Ponder my words, and mark;
O Cylon, thou diest on point of my locked Fox,
Except, O Cylon, thou do give to me
Leoben's own access codes.
Cylon. (filtered)
O, take pity! Have pity on me!
Starbuck.
I shall not serve you; I will have full access;
Or I will blast thy brains out thy nose
In a spray of crimson Cylon blood.
Cylon. (filtered)
Is it impossible to escape the tone of locked arms?
I will give you my weight in Cubits.
Starbuck.
Cubits, toaster?!
Thou damned and stinking flying gut pile,
Offer'st me Cubits?
Cylon. (filtered)
O pardon me!
Starbuck.
Say'st thou me so? is that an access code?
Starbuck to Galactica, I needst talk with Boomer:
Caprica Sharon. (filtered)
Acknowledged, Starbuck.
Starbuck.
Ask me this Raider in code
What be its rank and position.
Caprica Sharon. (filtered)
I do affirm and respond, brave Starbuck.
I ask him now.
(tones)

[Cylon Raider – EXT.]

Cylon.
Who is this, that speaks to me in my head,
And in my own tongue?
(tones)
Caprica Sharon. (filtered)
It says it is Air Boss of Squadron three-oh-seven,
From the mighty Base Star Seventeen.
Starbuck. (filtered)
Squadron air boss!
I'll fire him up, and farkin' blast him, and tailpipe fark him:
Discuss the same in code unto him.
Caprica Sharon. (filtered)
I do not know the code for farkin', tailpipe fark, and fark.
Starbuck. (filtered)
Bid him prepare; for I will explode his brain.
Cylon.
What did she say, Sir Sharon?
Caprica Sharon. (filtered)
It is my command to you that death will strike home,
If you yield us up no codes,
Because the gallant pilot at your six
Is disposed this moment to cut your throat
And leave your broken hull drifting in the endless void.
Starbuck. (filtered)
Cheap and low-built Raider,
Unless thou give me codes, high codes;
Mangled shalt thou be by these my Viper's cannon.
Cylon.
O, I to you surrender, for love of God, spare me!
I am a Cylon of a good model:
Guard my life and I will do as you ask.
Starbuck. (filtered)
What are its words?
Caprica Sharon. (filtered)
It prays you to save its life: It is a Cylon of
a good model; and for its ransom it will give you
all of vile Leoben's codes.
Starbuck. (filtered)
Tell him my fury shall abate, and I the codes will take.
Cylon.
Small sir, what said she?
Caprica Sharon. (filtered)
Again she said is against his judgement to pardon a prisoner,
Nevertheless, for the codes she will keep her promise
And give you your liberty and freedom.
Cylon.
On my honor I give you a thousand thanks;
And I'm happy that I have fallen into the hands
Of a Cylon and a brave, valiant pilot,
The most distinguished of the Colonial fleet.
Starbuck. (filtered)
Expound unto me, Boomer.
Caprica Sharon. (filtered)
He gives you, upon his wings, a thousand thanks; and
he esteems himself happy that he hath fallen into
the hands of one, as he thinks, the most brave,
valorous, and thrice-worthy pilot of the Colonies.
Starbuck. (filtered)
As I suck blood, I will some mercy show.
Vipers, follow me in!

Exeunt Starbuck and Cylon

On Galactica

Caprica Sharon.
I did never know so full a voice issue from an
Empty Raider brain: but the saying is true
'The empty vessel makes the greatest sound.'
This hound leader hath bloomed smart enough to fear death,
Yet knows its kind unworthy of everlasting life through resurrection,
Being but a model that's disposable and yet
Once in days long by it had ten times more valour
Than this now cowaring jet.
Yet the better models fear not death nor judgement
Given a thousand God gifted lives,
They would but gamble them all away.
With this cur's codes, their boldness will become their undoing.

Exit

SCENE V. Another sector of the fight.

Enter Leoben, Simon, Doral, and Sharon.

Leoben.
O devil!
Simon.
O sir! the day is lost, all is lost!
Sharon
Death of my life! All is confounded, all!
Reproach and everlasting shame
Sits mocking in our fumes. O misfortune!
Do not run away.
A short alarum
Leoben.
Why, all our ranks are broke.
Our Raiders shut down and adrift!
Sharon.
O eternal shame! let's stab ourselves.
Be these the wretches that we play'd at pyramid for?
Simon.
Is this the Commander we sent to for his surrender?
Doral.
Shame and eternal shame, nothing but shame!
Let us die in honour: once more back again;
And he that will not follow Leoben now,
Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand,
Like a base model Centurion, hold the chamber-door
Whilst with a human, no higher than a dog,
His fairest seed is contaminated.
Leoben.
Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now!
Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.
Simon.
We are enow yet flying in the battle
To smother up the Vipers in our throngs,
If any order might be thought upon.
Doral.
The devil take order now! I'll to the dogfight:
Let life be short; else shame will be too long.


SCENE VI. Galactica CIC.

Alarums. Enter Commander Adama and officers, Racetrack, Tigh, and others.

Cdr. Adama.
Well have we done, thrice valiant Colonials:
But all's not done; yet keep the Cylons the sky.
Racetrack.
Kat commends her to your command.
Cdr. Adama.
Lives she, good sir? thrice within this hour
I saw her adrift; thrice powered up again and fighting;
From helmet to the stick all blood she was.
Racetrack.
In which array, brave pilot, doth she float,
Drifting in space; and by her bloody ship,
Wing-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,
The noble Hammerhead also drifts.
Hammerhead first died: and Apollo, all throttled down,
Comes to him, where in gore he sat insteep'd,
And rolled canopy to canopy; pressed his hand up,
And cries aloud 'Tarry, dear Hammerhead!
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven;
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast,
As in this glorious and well-fought sky
We kept formation in our chivalry!'
Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up:
He smiled me in the face, waved me his hand,
And, with a feeble grip, says 'Dear lords of Kobol,
Apollo, commend my service to your father.'
So did he turn and over and turn his neck to stare at me,
He drew his wounded arm around, removed his helm,
And press'd his lips to his canopy's cold glass,
And so espoused to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love.
The pretty and sweet manner of it forced
Those waters from me which I would have stopp'd;
But I had too so much of love in me,
And all my mother came into mine eyes
And gave me up to tears.
Cdr. Adama.
I blame you not;
For, hearing this, I must perforce compound
With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.

Alarum

But, hark! what new alarum is this same?
The Cylons have reinforced their scatter'd ships:
Then every Viper kill the drifters:
Give the word through.

Exeunt