Battlestar Galactica: The Plan Page #2

It's a prank.

Come on.

I don't think so.

We just felt

another blast here.

If anyone can still

hear me, are we on?

I'm gonna keep broadcasting

as long as I can.

It keeps getting closer...

Oh, Gods,

is this really happening?

I got family in the city.

I gotta go find them.

Are you frakking nuts?

The city's gone.

I don't care.

No, it's not safe!

- Nobody's going anywhere!

We don't know enough,

okay?

We can't lose our

frakking heads,

all right?

We gotta find some place

we can get a perspective

on this thing.

If we go anywhere,

we go together,

and we go when it's safe,

is that understood?

This has happened before.

Oh, Gods, am I gonna die?

No.

No, your suffering

isn't over yet.

Not when you've got

so much left to learn.

What?

This is the Commander.

Moments ago,

this ship received word

of a Cylon attack against

our homeworlds is underway.

We do not know the size

or the disposition or the

strength of the enemy forces.

But all indications point

to a massive assault

against Colonial defenses.

How, why,

doesn't really matter now.

What does matter is that,

as of this moment,

we are at war.

You've trained for this.

You're ready for this.

Stand to your duties,

trust your fellow shipmates,

and we'll all

get through this.

All right, people,

this is what we do.

We're the best, so let's get

the old girl ready to roll,

and kick some Cylon ass!

Come on! Let's go!

Move!

This better be for real.

Stay down,

stay down, stay down.

What's going on over there?

What is that?

Is it the Cylons?

Everybody,

stay down, stay down.

Everybody, stay down.

What is it?

What is it, T?

Oh, my Gods.

What do you see?

It is the Cylons.

They're guarding

some kind of container.

What do you

wanna do, Coach?

I don't know.

What do you think?

I don't know.

We can't stay here.

We gotta go. Everybody,

stay low, stay fast. Let's go.

All right,

ladies and gentlemen,

come on out. You're safe now.

Come on,

we'll get you cleaned up.

Thank you.

Ma'am.

Excuse me, my husband,

he's in the Colonial Fleet

on Gemenon.

Your husband's in

the Colonial Fleet?

Where is he?

I don't know, ma'am.

Could you step

right this way?

We'll do our best,

ma'am.

Basestar is

launching Raiders.

Cylons are

chasing the Fleet.

Who are you?

Every 33 minutes,

they come back.

Raiders diving out

of the light like bats.

Please, find Saul.

Dear Papa.

He's here.

Of the five that

created all the rest of us,

four are in this fleet.

Only Father Sam is missing.

It's amazing.

Does it seem cruel

that I'm keeping you alive?

It is cruel.

Who am I kidding?

But it's also necessary.

For 30 years,

you failed to observe the

moral failures of humanity,

against whom

you find me lacking.

Get better, Mother.

Open your eyes

and take a gander at

what you think you love.

Okay. We've all seen

the Centurions gathering the

body parts of other Centurions

when they get destroyed,

right?

You've seen them

take them to those weird

containers they dropped.

Probably repair sheds

where they patch up

everything we do to them.

Does anybody remember

that old war movie,

The Tauron Line?

What they did?

Those were the bad guys.

Doesn't matter.

We can still make

this thing work.

Some of you guys

brought us some pretty fine

things that go boom, right?

We can take

a Centurion, something,

and rig it to blow.

They take it back to

the shop, it blows up

inside, no more shop.

No, no.

That sounds dangerous.

Well, yeah,

you know, it is dangerous,

but breathing's dangerous.

Look, there's a really

strong possibility that

we're all gonna die here.

So I say it comes down

to how we're gonna die.

Well, how do we get

a Centurion body part?

What the hell is that?

It's a thigh.

This turns it around.

Right there.

Right now,

we're only accepting

photos of missing people.

If there is a confirmed death,

hang onto the picture

for later.

They're awful quiet.

They're numb.

They've lost everything

and now we're putting them

through the wringer,

just trying to get away.

You're right.

This calm won't last.

Excuse me.

Oh, pardon me, Brother.

Thank you for your help.

Take one, my child.

Thank you, Brother.

Excuse me, I wonder if...

Sorry, sir.

If you're looking to

be billeted on Galactica,

it's just not possible.

No, no. I've been

afforded a chapel.

I just wanted

to post these flyers

in the restricted area.

Can I take a peek?

Well, how about

I post them for you?

Fine, thank you very much.

Very kind of you, son.

Have you read through this?

It says there's a plan, right?

Welcome.

I see we don't have

a Three or a Four here.

That's interesting.

I thought I saw a Four.

What's the plan?

The plan is everything

blows up a week ago.

All the humans are dead,

and we Cylons all download,

and the universe

basks in justice.

However...

It didn't

frakking happen.

Exactly.

So it's up to us.

We can all get weapons,

work separately.

Oh, there's a proposal

on the table.

Over 10,000 victims each.

We'll be busy.

We can't do this

on a case-by-case basis.

Which is why we have to

take out Galactica. With it

gone, the Fleet's dead.

We also have to think

defensively. Avoid

threats to our detection.

Very good, Sixes.

Now I have assignments

I'm gonna give to each of you,

along with our sleeper agent.

There's a sleeper agent?

Yes. An Eight.

I'll talk to her.

Now, Two, you come with me.

Let's get this

genocide started.

Stay low. Bring it in.

I'd very much like to be able

to communicate with a Baseship

next time we're near one,

and it might be

amusing to listen to the

human military, as well.

Military are good

about scrambling

their signals.

The military built

the Centurions. Functional,

but hardly miraculous.

Crack their technology.

And send in a Six.

Dealer's choice.

What is that?

Something I'm trying.

Explosives

in a Pyramid ball

with a detonator.

Like a homemade grenade.

Holy frak. It took it.

It's headed your way.

All right, everybody.

Get ready.

- Let him get inside.

- I know, Jean.

I must say, you Sixes

are doing a great job

differentiating yourselves.

Love the look.

But it doesn't do any good

if there's a mechanism out

there that can sniff us out.

You mean

Dr. Baltar's machine.

If we destroyed it,

he'd just make another.

That's why we have

to discredit him.

Me? Well,

if he sees one of us,

he'll know what we are.

But he can't say anything

without saying how he knows.

Very smart.

Or maybe it's the glasses.

Anyway, carry on,

and send in the Five, please.

Come on, you metal

moron, go inside. Let's

take out all those supplies.

Anders, it's open.

We got to

get out of here.

They're coming back.

Look, the door's

open a little.

We could pry it and...

Let's finish this.

No. Hey, no! Come on.

Coach, no! Get back here!

Coach, no!

Coach!

Whoa! What the frak

was in there?

No. No.

No!

Incoming!

- We got birds!

- Hit the dirt!

I can't leave them

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