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Battlestar Galactica Page #9
- TV-PG
- Year:
- 1978
- 60 min
- 1,129 Views
You can tell the rest|of your playboy pilots...
this is not the last flash inspection|that I'm gonna make.
If I ever find uniforms|in this condition, you're in trouble.
When Commander Adama sees these,|he's gonna go crazy.
It's gotta be the pressure.
You know, it's unfair. A lot of those bridge|officers never go down to the surface...
while everybody else gets to go|and have a good time.
Bridge officers don't get their tails|shot off flying around in little fighters.
Still, I wouldn't mind|trading with them.
I believe you.|I'll mention it to the colonel.
Wait a minute. I can't take over|for him. I'm not a colonel.
Neither am I.
So much for guilt.|Let's go to the party.
Right.
Hello, Father.
Apollo.
Well, uh,
Colonel Tigh wants to be|at the celebration,
so I, uh-- I offered to|relieve him for the night.
Simply as a favor.
I might have thought you'd like to see|your son getting his Star Cluster.
It's well-deserved, Apollo.|Well-deserved.
Precisely why I cannot accept it as anything|but another one of Counselor Uri's ploys.
How can saluting his greatest|rival's son be a ploy?
I just have the feeling that he'll|propose destroying our arms...
at the celebration,
hoping that|the cascade of emotion...
will do all the damage before|anyone realizes what they've done.
- But you can stop it.|- I? [ Laughs ]
Not anymore. Have you heard the talk?|I got us into this predicament.
No one believes that. And even|if some do, you have to speak out.
How can I say to you that you've|been more than a father to me?
You've been someone I could look up to|with trust and respect.
My ideals rise and fall|on your standards, and this isn't you.
What's happening to you?|Help me to understand.
You'll understand, my son.|In time, you'll understand.
I know that wasn't easy for you, not|telling him. Perhaps you should have.
No. No.
If I told him, I wouldn't have|been able to keep him from my side.
This is my gamble.|If I win, we all win.
But if you're wrong,|Uri will destroy you.
I'm not wrong.
The Cylons lured me|into their deception once.
Never again.
[ Chattering ]
- That's very strange.|- What is?
That man's insignia|is Blue Squadron.
I thought I knew everybody in it,|and look at the fit of that uniform.
Apollo, tonight|is a night of thanksgiving,
and everyone's dressing up|and making do with whatever they have.
He probably hasn't|worn that in years.
Besides, the guest of honor|looks absolutely delicious.
[ Chattering Continues ]
- Hi.|- How lovely you look in your uniform.
Huh? Oh.
Hey, isn't this|something, Boxey?
- Our hosts have been very generous.|- I don't like them.
- What?|- I told him the Ovions wouldn't approve of him...
bringing Muffit|to the celebration.
Well, we put one over|on them, didn't we?
Except for your captain,
I deduce from the uniforms|that most of your warriors are here.
- Yes, well, I'm always a big draw.|- [ Laughs ]
[ Growls ]
Muffit, Muffit, come back here!|Here, daggit! Come back here!
- Starbuck.|- Yes? What is it?
I'm talking to the great|and near great.
Well, when you come down,|tell me who that is.
Those three guys|right behind the dancer.
Darned if I know.|They sure have lousy tailors.
- Starbuck, you should know them.|- Why should I know them?
Because they're wearing|the insignia from our squadron.
Where is the lieutenant going?
- Um, to find the captain, sir.|- Excellent.
[ Apollo ]|Hey, what's going on?
- Stop those guys. Stop them.|- What are you--
What are you doing, Starbuck?
Listen, something's|going on around here.
Those three impostors, I just--|Uh, listen, can we talk?
Yeah.|Will you excuse us?
The lieutenant|needs attention.
I'll take Boxey and get something|to eat. Where is Boxey?
He's probably in watching the acrobats.|They're pretty good.
Well, don't be long. You two don't|want to miss your own coronation.
- Yeah.|- Boxey!
- What's this about impostors?|- I don't know.
I've been running into guys all night|who aren't from our unit,
but they're wearing|our unit's clothes.
- That officer in the shuttle.|- You spotted one of them?
Yeah, maybe.|I think we better check this out.
I suggest that you find|your two friends...
and tell them that we're going to begin,|with or without them.
Yes, sir.
- Looks deserted.|- Everyone's at the party.
Not everyone. There are three|impostors down here someplace.
How many warriors?
Nearly their full|complement of warriors.
See that the humans remain|entertained until the end,
then they will be yours|in the lower chambers.
This night we celebrate|a most special event...
in the annals|of human experience.
Starbuck, what'd you find?
They're not here.|They must be at another level.
The other levels|aren't accessible to humans.
- I've been wondering about that.|- Yeah, so have I.
I know how to fix that problem.|Stand back.
You're the gambler.|Pick a level.
Uh, what say we have a look at what's|furthest from the guest rooms?
- Mmm, nice.|- Shhh!
Mm-mmm.|You're the leader.
...against any living brother,|whether a former friend or foe.
[ Electronic Barking ]
- Muffit! - At least he'll|be remembered in the eons as--
Ah, me and my big mouth.
At least we know|the secret of Carillon.
Do we? What's the connection|between the casino and all this?
Let's get out of here,|then figure that one out.
Muffit!
Run, Boxey, run!
Apollo, are you thinking|what I'm thinking?
With all this tylium, we're setting fire|to the biggest bomb in the universe.
Yeah.
- It's a little late to try and talk to these fellows.|- I think so.
Oh, my God!
Some of them are probably|from our ships.
[ Starbuck ] No wonder no one's ever|left here to tell about this resort.
The Ovions are living|off of them...
and probably selling|the tylium they mine to the Cylons.
- That's Muffit!|- Hey, Boxey, come back here!
No!|[ Groaning ]
Muffit! Muffit!
[ Screams ]|Starbuck!
[ Sobbing ]
Let's go!|Follow me!
Report, Centurian.
It is done,|Imperious Leader.
Let the attack begin.
By your command,|Imperious Leader.
[ Barking ]
We're doing fine!|Whoops.
- There's too many of them.|- Go for the ceilings. Set fire to the tylium.
That must be|why you're a captain.
Call out the entire garrison.
Scanner's picking up|a large body of objects closing rapidly.
Scan for alien forms.
A wiping clean of the slate|of animosities and prejudice.
- This way! This way!|- Run, Boxey!
Captain, where you guys been?|We've been looking all over for you!
- Ohhh!|- Come on!
Move!
When these fires reach hyper-combustion,|the whole planet's gonna blow.
Let's get outta here!
Oh, frack!
Warm scan positive.|Multiple three-passenger vehicles.
Cylon attack craft.|So they spring their trap.
Enemy approaching,|90 microns.
- Arm weapons.|- An opportunity...
to throw down our arms|and prove, once and for all,
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"Battlestar Galactica" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Aug. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/battlestar_galactica_3715>.
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