Tigh’s quarters. The old boozer burning out The Wife’s eye. On a photograph. Alarm.
Condition One being set throughout the ship. Chief roughing up the deck crew, tattered Tigh on CIC:
A retirement prank? – I don’t think so.
As of this moment, we are at war. Alrighty then. Chief, still roughing up, XO checking for ammunition. Mr. Kekeiyans object of desire? She’s Dee. And get Kara Thrace out of the brig? That would be Starbuck then, I guess.
Galactica Attack Squadron. Yup, the Asian chick IS Boomer. Whaddayaknow. And yup, she’s a rook. Good there’s Helo. Although he has trouble reading. Five Raiders against 20 Vipers? Good luck, Toasters!
CIC. Gaeta plotting a course, Dee having taken kara Thrace out of the brig. Sassy little bitch. They lost 30 Battlestars? OK, good luck Colonials then.
Museum Starboard Hangar Deck. Good old Mk.2s! Let’s pull them rad buffers from the engines and load the ordnances! Thanks Chief. And the starboard launch bay is a gift shop. Nice. How do they fit the Vipers through these small corridors? Never mind.
CIC, Dee and Gaeta having malfunctions. They are kinda cute together as well.
Galactica Attack Squadron. Down to two confirmed Cylons now. OK, that’s borderline superiority complex. Or should the malfunction babble have been some kind of foreshadowing? Hey, those Raiders are pretty:
Um. Yes. OK. So much for Let’s go get em, eh?
They must have done something to our computer system.
Good bye pilots, we hardly knew you.
Boomer, get us out of here. – Right.
She’s a bright one, eh?
Colonial Heavy 798. Madame Secretary getting the heads up:
What’s going on?
And Asshollo? Well, yeah, he’s just that. Old junker. Pff.
Raptor, Boomer and Helo in trouble (poor Helo). What’s so hard dropping the second swallow after the first one is destroyed? Just saying. I’m gonna like that Boomer. And such acting talent:
That’s my desperate-face!
We’re hit! – Oh really? Heh. Hey, she comes up with a decent plan! Well, one swallow doesn’t make a summer. Or two in this case. And the battle? Ouch:
CIC. Adama giving everybody the heads up. More heads down. Not looking good.
Colonial Heavy 798. Yup Secretary Roslin, that door opens outward. She’s so sweet. And how’s a Secretary of Education more badass than a Colonial pilot? Anyway, I like it. And, yes, being a teacher pays off when you’re dealing with crowd control. Bad suit guy is a prick too! Who would have guessed. And Roslin is awesome!
I’m in charge, period. You go clean up your room! And no dessert for you today young man!
Heh, he even sulks. Mr. Keikeyan taking it well. They are a good team, him and the Secretary. And I could fill this whole page with screencaps of MMD. She’s marvelous. And getting the latest news from Caprica. Thanks Jack. The Cylons are pricks too. And they have found us! Asshollo saves the day! Krypter! Krypter! Krypter!
Caprica, mushroom clouds (Did I mention I just recently got hooked on Jericho? Just came to my mind. It’s really, really good!). Raptor in the Rye. Here come the refugees! Baltar! Yay! Boomer and Helo:
That’s my anticipation-face. – Yeah, mine too.
Colonial Heavy 798. Bad Suit brown-nosing Asshollo. Not that great a team. Roslin, Billy and the pilot strategy meeting. Enter Bad Suit. I have to restrain myself not to drown you in my adoration for MMD.
Lady’s in charge. Heh.
Caprica. Let’s take the children first. And three more. Lottery. Because, you know, that’s how I got my role in this series.
Galactica. Inbound DRADIS contacts. – Launch Vipers. Pretty:
Sorry Starbuck, no launch for you. Damn you valve!
CIC. Bow up half. Forward left one quarter. Stern right full.
Space battle goodness. Blinky eye doesn’t work, eh? Go old junkers!
Brace for contact my friend.
And that’s a goot point to take a little Break! Break! Break!