Battlestar Galactica: The Plan

The Cylons

were created by man.

They rebelled.

They evolved.

They look and feel human.

Some are programmed

to think they are human.

There are many copies.

And they have a plan.

I was doing fine here.

Thanks for exposing me.

You weren't doing fine,

thank goodness.

If you'd wiped

out this fleet,

you'd have made us

even more irredeemable

in the eyes

of our parents.

No, I'd have proved us

to be superior.

No, no, see,

I've figured out

what went wrong.

Well, that's a very useful

revelation to have

when you're standing

in front of an airlock.

Nonetheless...

Our failure is obvious.

We had our foot on the throat

of humanity and we failed

to step down hard enough.

That was our error.

Have you learned

nothing in all this

time in this fleet?

Because I learned

a great deal among

the rebels on Caprica.

Every killing

of a human being

was a grievous error.

Do you want to know why?

I really don't.

Are you certain?

Because it's fascinating.

Listen, Brother,

if you're right,

that means this whole project

was doomed from the beginning.

Yes.

From the very top.

Dad.

Mom.

Dad. Mom. Dad.

Our parents will be

back with us soon.

Of course,

skin and veins and bones,

they won't survive

the death of the Colonies.

Life among humans

will have humbled them.

When they resurrect,

they'll return

with apologies tumbling

from their lips like jewels.

Yes. Be prepared for

some very sticky hugs.

You know, I've got

a yen to experience a nuclear

holocaust in person.

Perhaps with our dear

mother here,

I'll slide in another tub,

and we can download

side-by-side,

after the bombs

hit on Picon.

Well, indulge

yourself if you want.

But I'll be on Caprica,

making final arrangements

with our contact.

So if you're going to go,

go soon.

It may interest you

to know that the final results

of the CNP project

are working close

to 95% efficiency

throughout the Fleet.

Hold your applause, please.

No applause for me?

I doubt you would've

ever completed

the project without me.

Yes. Well,

you helped a bit.

I rewrote

half your algorithms.

All right,

you were extremely helpful,

but let's not forget,

you got something out of it.

All that poking around

inside the defense mainframe.

It should give you

a huge advantage bidding

for the contract next year.

You know that's not

really why I did it.

No. You did it

'cause you love me.

I have to go.

I'm meeting someone.

Right.

Really? Who is he?

I'm insanely jealous.

I doubt that.

So touchy today.

Well, as a matter of fact,

I'm meeting someone, too.

Business.

A new project at Defense

I might do, so...

You'll call me later,

right?

It's about time.

I wondered when

you'd get here.

Are you clear

on the timing?

Caprica City time.

I recommend you leave

this body behind.

The alternative won't make

for a very pleasant memory.

Oh, and I hear that poison

is really not that bad.

You really like those olives,

don't you?

Maybe. Maybe I just

like how I look

reaching for them.

Ellen Tigh.

Bartender, let's have

another one for the lady.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

So, you don't have a name?

I am a mysterious stranger.

Ooh!

Seized by God,

they cry for succor

in the dark of the light.

Mists of dreams dribble

on the nascent echo

and love no more.

Jump.

And why are you here,

Ellen?

I mean, you're so obviously

intended for greater things.

Are you a priest?

Would it matter?

You're up.

Counting down.

All functions nominal.

All functions optimal.

Counting down.

The center holds.

The falcon hears

the falconer.

Infrastructure, check.

Wetware, check. Everyone hang

on to the life bar, please.

Help?

Anybody wanna

save the lady?

I'll save you, baby.

Apotheosis

was the beginning

before the beginning.

Devices on alert.

Observe the procedures

of a general alert.

The base and the pinnacle.

The flower inside the fruit

that is both its parent

and its child.

Decadent as ancestors.

The portal and

that which passes.

No. No, don't sweat it.

I'll make the flight.

You gonna have

enough time?

Yes. They run Delphi to C City

every hour now.

Nuclear devices

activated,

and the machine

keeps pushing time

through the cogs,

like paste into strings

into paste again,

and only the machine

keeps using time to

make time to make time.

And when the machine

stops, time was an illusion

that we created.

Free will, 12 battles,

three stars, and yet

we are countless

as the bodies in which

we dwell, are both parent

and infinite children

in perfect copies.

No degradation.

Oh, now, now,

don't tense up, Mysterious.

I'm just saying

there's no point

in judging anybody.

No one changes

who they really are.

If no one is corrected,

then no one learns

their lessons.

Well, I've lived

in this world a long time,

and I'm proud to say

that I haven't learned

any godsdamn lessons.

The makers of the makers

fall before the child.

Accessing defense system.

Handshake, handshake.

Second level clear.

It's begun.

Caprica Control, Yashuman.

Heavy bogeys, six plus,

lower orbit, over grid 15-2.

No joy, Yashuman.

Then go to your window

and look up. They're big

as frakking asteroids.

Copy, Yashuman.

Still blind.

Got some kind of

system-wide crash

in the defense grid.

Try to unfrak yourself

right godsdamned now,

'cause we got multiple

inbound, and they're

not carrying flowers.

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