All language subtitles for Battlestar.Galactica.S03E16.BDRip.x264-FGT

Previously on
Battlestar Galactica.

I demand my rights
as a Colonial citizen

to legal representation
and full due process.

Do you?

So what happens next?

We give him his trial.

My father was a priest.
My mother was an oracle.

I've served a Battlestar
since I was 18 years old.

When you elected me union president,
I promised I would keep us working.

You must throw your body
on the gears and on the levers

and on the machine itself
and make it stop!

Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!

You're pretending
like nothing's changed,

that our lives are exactly like they
were before we went to New Caprica.

But it is different.

Yeah, I was just going through
a little rough patch.

What if rough patches
are all we have left?

Figurski, Pollux, Sanchez,

you're gonna be rehabbing mule engines
tonight so don't make after-dinner plans.

Set and hold SOL check
rigged to SEC.

I thought we were subbing out mule
maintenance to the civvies in Dogsville?

Yeah, we don't got enough
mechanics down there.

Check flow rate.

Flow rate steady at 290.

Hey, when are we getting
some rack around here, Chief?

I'm standing double watches
the last two weeks.

I know, I know.

Plus, I still got
the ringing in my ears.

The ringing in the ears!

I'm sorry, I can't hear you.
I've got ringing. What's that?

Real funny, guys.

Hey, fuse indicators are out.

Set the wing tank switch to fuel.
Power off. All right, tank off.

That's it.
Kill the fueling stations.

Pull the hose. Lt., you're
tanked up and ready to roll.

Roger that, Chief.
Ready to roll.

Laundry call, Figurski,
Pollux, Redford.

Grab your crap before I
chuck it in the cycler.

Fold my undies the way I like?

Frak off. Oh, nice mouth.

You think they let officers
talk like that?

You're gonna have to change your
ways when you get them wings.

I'm not getting wings.

They rejected my application
for flight training.

I thought you aced the written exam.
Interview went well?

Yeah, well, it turns out I'm in a critical
position and my leaving would cause

severe mission degradation.

That sucks.
Critical position, my ass.

They just don't want knuckle-draggers
stinking up the pilot ready room.

All right, that's enough.
Lock it up! That's enough.

Look, the CAG told me you got
bounced from flight training.

I'm sorry about that. It sucks.

The truth is we need you down here, you're
the best avionics specialist we got.

And she knows how
to fold a man's undies.

Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!
You frak...

Hey, come on! Hey, whoa!
That's enough!

Enough! Get off! What, are you crazy?
I'll take you apart!

Hey! Shut up, Figurski!

I'll pop you in the mouth myself.
Now get back to work.

Come here! Come here!

Hey, hey, hey. Listen to me.

Look, you do important work down here,
just as important as sitting in a cockpit.

Thanks, Chief.

I'm gonna deliver
some more important laundry.

Raptor away. Readings nominal.

Everything looks good.
Setting course heading 2965...

What the frak?

It's a flameout!
RCS thrusters jammed!

Restart! No go!

Galactica, Skulls. We have an engine
thruster stuck in full position!

Engine one won't start!

There's a fire in engine two! It's gonna blow!
Get your ass up here!

Eject! Eject! Eject!

You got off lucky. A dozen injuries.
No fatalities.

Thank you.

You should've seen Tory's shoulder. I had
to help Cottle put it back into alignment.

You know, I am so busy, I hardly ever
make it down to this end of the ship.

And now I'm gonna be living
here for God knows how long

until they repair
the bulkheads.

If the quarters become cramped, you're
always welcome in one of my beds.

In a manner of speaking.

Do you have any better idea
what happened to your Raptor?

We're still investigating
the situation.

But it seems that the tylium was
seriously contaminated with impurities.

Most likely, it's a problem
with the refining process.

What the hell's going on there?

The refinery used to be the most
reliable ship in the fleet.

Now every day I start with a stack
of messages from that chief.

What is his name? Zeno Fenner.

Fenner, complaining about working
conditions and deliveries,

and spare parts and compensation,
if you can believe that.

We're on the run for our lives and the guy
wants to talk about overtime bonuses.

We've been more than patient with
Fenner and his production problems.

Two weeks of sitting here, waiting
for him to get his act together.

I don't know about you, but I'm ready to
get back on the road to finding Earth.

Is that a hint of hope I hear?

Is the skeptic suddenly decided that
we're on the road to Earth, after all?

Have I ever doubted it?

I've got people working 18 hour
shifts for the past six months.

How long do you think
a man can keep that up?

If the Cylons show up, we have enough fuel
to jump the entire fleet, what, once?

Maybe twice?

That's a margin that's
much too narrow for me.

How about for you and your men?

You have a problem. Fix it.

Just get the gas flowing. And then
we'll talk, I promise you that.

Then we'll talk.
It's always later.

You know, it's funny
that when the gas flows,

my phone calls
don't get returned.

But the minute there's a glitch in the
fuel supply, I've got face time with

the President and the Admiral.

Hmm...

Maybe we should just start
having more glitches.

Is that a threat?

It's like the book says.

"If you hear the people, you'll
never have to fear the people."

Did you say the book?

Mmm-hmm.

Guards, arrest him for extortion
and interrupting vital services

during a time of war.

Go ahead, take him away. That's it.
Go. Out of here. Gone.

Come with me, sir.

What the hell was that?

He was quoting
from Baltar's book.

The ramblings that his lawyer
smuggled out of the brig?

He's having it reprinted and
passed out among the Fleet

and he's calling it My Triumphs,
My Mistakes, by Gaius Baltar.

I am thinking of having a good
old-fashioned book-burning.

Ooh, algae meatloaf,
starting to be a favorite.

It's not for you.
Remember our little talk?

Oh, but today's my cheat day.

The last three days
have been your cheat day.

Really?

You were moving
better yesterday.

Is that how the bends
are supposed to work?

I'm just upset about Seelix,
so I'm tensing up.

They should've just told her right off
the bat what the fleet priorities are.

Should've said that
they needed knuckle-draggers

more than they need pilots.

It isn't about
fleet priorities.

We're not part of the ruling class,
so we're stuck doing the dirty work.

The ruling class?
Where'd you get that?

Something I read, by Baltar.

Those frakking rags making
their way around the fleet?

I can't believe that anybody's reading
anything written by that guy.

That's what I thought
too, but...

You ever wonder why all the pilots and the
officers come from the rich Colonies,

like Caprica,
and Virgon, Tauron?

Well, all the knuckle-draggers
come from the poor Colonies,

like Aerelon and Sagitarron
and Gemenon.

Yeah, that's just
trash talk on the deck.

Really? Name one officer on the Fleet
that comes from a poor Colony.

Dualla, Lieutenant
Dualla's from Sagitarron.

Case in point.
How did she get promoted?

She married an officer
from Caprica.

Tyrol.

Chief, the foreman at the
fuel refinery's just been arrested.

Zeno Fenner? Do you know him?

Did something happen to Zeno?

Arrested. Yes, sir. He was
in the union on New Caprica.

He seemed like a good guy.
What'd he do?

He pissed off the President.

But the bigger problem right
now is the refining operation.

I need someone to go over there and
get that fuel ship moving again.

Pick a team, get your gear and be
on the hangar deck in an hour.

Yes, sir.

I don't understand.
What happened to Zeno?

He pissed off the President.

You mean, you can get
arrested for that now?

I think the Admiral
was kidding.

Yeah.

You ever think about the union?

Sure, but that's gone now.

New Caprica's gone, but all the
people in the union are still here.

The only difference is now they don't
have anyone to stand up for them.

I gotta go.

I do hope you're
enjoying yourselves.

It's not enough that you have to interrupt
my sleep and put filth in my food.

Now you have to destroy my stuff as well.
You're pathetic!

You're utterly and totally...

Hello, Doctor.

Why don't you
do yourself a favor?

Hand over the pages
and stop all this nonsense.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

Turn him around.

The pages to your book, My Triumphs,
My Mistakes by Gaius Baltar.

So, you've read it.

The people are reading it
and now you're sorry.

We've known that your lawyer was smuggling
the pages out of here for weeks.

So, we intercepted them and I'm afraid
I'm the only one who's read the book,

and I am dying
to see how it ends.

Really, what were you thinking now,
casting yourself as a man of the people,

the son of a farmer,
a revolutionary?

Oh, please.

It may come as some surprise
to you, Madam President,

but I wish to strike a chord
with the common man.

Hand over those pages or I'll
have these guards search you.

Make a choice.

Gentlemen, proceed.

Don't bend to her, Gaius.

Show her that
she can't break you.

Keep your dignity.

Perhaps you'd consider writing
a blurb for the back cover.

Thank you, Doctor.

Close cell.

It's all right, Gaius.
Everything will be okay.

Tyrol!

Cabott! Hey.

How you doing?

Good to see you.

Sorry. Never mind.
It's inevitable.

Listen, I gotta tell ya,

we all started feeling a lot better
when we heard they were sending you.

Oh, yeah? You bet.

I've been talking you up,

telling everybody how
the union on New Caprica

really stood up
for the little guy.

Yeah, well...

You're looking at the Fleet's
entire fuel supply of tylium.

How many jumps
you think we got?

We'll be lucky if we get
out of the system.

Well, you'd better give us the
nickel tour, see where we stand.

This is a big operation.

Yeah, well, you should see this
place when it's up and running.

Loud as an A-bomb
and just about as safe.

Listen, we really need this downtime.
I mean, look around.

Next time some machine fraks up, it
might not just take out a Raptor.

This ship really is a big bomb
just waiting to go up.

Yeah, look, I understand the risk,
but I need to see it working,

so pull your guys off,
and let's fire it up.

It ain't gonna work.

You work here?

This is Milo. He's the
best grease jockey I got.

Milo, huh? Hey, Milo, so
why is it not gonna work?

Something you guys aren't telling me?
Come on.

Okay. I guess I'm just gonna
have to have a look for myself.

Is that pressure relief?

The seals are missing.

They all are.

Without pressure seals,
the machinery won't run.

Well, where are they?

Guess they got lost, huh?

Guys, you can't be frakking
around with this stuff.

The Admiral won't stand for it.
The Admiral can kiss my ass.

Hey, hey!

Come on, Chief,
you know what this is about.

I guess when working
conditions improve

and they let Zeno out of jail,
we'll be able to find those seals.

Until then, it looks
like this ship

isn't going to be refining
another drop of tylium.

And that means this Fleet
isn't going anywhere.

I've executed a search of the ship,
but the seals have not turned up.

You know that this is sabotage.

I'm inclined
to have them locked up.

Sir, please, they could've rigged
something to have me injured.

They could have contaminated
the fuel on purpose

and left all of our ships
dead in the air.

Good Gods.

All they did do was buy
themselves some time.

The machinery does
need overhauling.

There's a reason that the
quality control is failing.

Do you realize that most of
the workers on that ship

have not had a day off since the
original attack on the Colonies?

It's like slave labor.

Don't be absurd.

The men and women aboard
that ship are stuck there.

They can't leave,
they can't transfer.

They have no control
over their lives.

And the work is hard,
we know that.

Do they think they're having a
picnic on the algae processing plant

or munitions
or waste processing?

The fleet is filled with ships with
people working under horrific conditions

and nobody's having
a good time.

Well, I think that if we at least
release Zeno and start talking to them

about improving working
conditions and living conditions,

that the protest will go away,
they'll return the pressure seals

and we'll get the fuel contamination
problem under control.

Extortion is not an
acceptable method of protest.

What are the names
of the leaders?

Just Cabott. I will issue
a warrant for his arrest.

Put him in the brig,
let him sweat it out.

Admiral, Madam President,
they're just trying to...

Chief, uh-uh. We're done.

I'm gonna go check
on Cabott and Zeno.

Chief?

Hey-Hey-

You gotta get him out of here.

What the hell
happened to his hands?

I wake up in the middle of the
night, he's scratching the walls.

He just keeps scratching them
until his fingers are bleeding.

I won't say, it don't matter...

He was in Cylon detention on
New Caprica, you remember?

He came out all squirrelly,
and this is not helping.

Come on, you've got
to get him out of here.

I won't say...

Where are the seals?

You son of a bitch. Come on!

Come on, Galen! You've got
to get him out of here!

Cabott? I won't say.
No, I won't...

Cabott, look at me.

Cabott, listen to me.
Where are the seals?

I won't say. It doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter.

Cabott, I can get you out of here.
Where are the seals?

Tell me where the seals are. I won't say.
It doesn't matter...

For Gods sakes, get him out of here!
It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter!

Where are the seals?
Where are they?

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter!
Where are the seals?

It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter!
Where are they?

The air vent!

All right? They're in the
center stern air vent!

Tell the President
to release them.

All right, that's the last one.

Let's fire this up,
get back to work.

Yes, sir.
Whatever you say, boss.

Hey, hey, hey, hey.
Can I throw the switch?

How old are you? Twelve.

Almost.

But I can run
every machine we got.

Only thing I haven't done
is turn the whole thing on.

It's all yours.

There are kids
down there, Madam President.

There's children on every
ship in the fleet.

These children work
in the refinery.

They're 12, 15 years old.

There have been families aboard the
refinery ever since its beginning,

and others were picked up after
the Cylons attacked the Colonies.

Over the past two years,

the parents have been teaching the
children how to operate the machinery.

They have been passing along their skills.
It is perfectly normal.

It is not ideal, I know that.

But there is nothing ideal
about this Fleet.

Do you see what's happening?

Jobs are starting to be
inherited, Madam President.

We don't know how long we're gonna be on these ships.
What if it's 10 years?

So, I train my son to be a deck
hand because that's what I am?

And that's all he can ever be?

Is that the future we want?

That's a really good point.

Tory, I want you to make a
list of everyone in the Fleet

who has a work history
appropriate to the refinery.

Factory workers, mechanics,
whatever you think.

Give it to the Chief and I want
you to hold a public lottery.

And we will take people
from other vessels

and we'll put them
on shifts in the refinery.

How's that, Chief?

Thank you. Thank you.

So that's our allotment
from Dogsville.

We'll get these people on
these ships and out of here

before they know
where they're going.

All right, people! Let's form two lines!
Excuse me, sir!

One down here, one over here...

Hi, I don't really know who I'm
supposed to talk to about this,

but I don't really think I'm
what you guys are looking for.

I don't really have the skills.

What's your name? Danny Noon.

Figurski? Noon.

Noon. Noon. Noon, Daniel.
Says you're a farmer.

Farmer? Yeah,
that's what we're looking for.

People to work with heavy machinery.
No, but I don't.

Not really.

I worked on a farm for a summer because
I was saving up to go to college.

Architecture,
but then the Cylons attacked,

and now I'm a farmer?
How is that fair?

How is that in any way fair?

Just give me a second.

We make an exception for this guy, there's
gonna be 15 more right behind him.

Look at him, though.
He's a kid.

Fine. Put him on the ship.

Look, this is just
a temporary thing, okay?

Hey, wait, hold on.
I'm not a farmer!

Yeah, it's not permanent.

No, wait, can you just
check my record? Yeah.

Excuse me. Who am I supposed
to talk to about this?

Who am I supposed
to talk to about this?

You don't understand!
I'm not a farmer!

Hey! Stop it! I'm not a farmer!

What are you doing here?

Your book, fact or fiction?

So you read it?

Well, that proves that the
President is an accomplished liar.

She told me it hadn't gone out.
So what do you make of it?

I think that
it's a pile of crap.

Obviously, my analysis of a
bifurcated society scares you.

But everything in my book
happens to be true.

Oh, it's true? It's true that
you're a farm boy from Aerelon.

Yes, it is,
as a matter of fact.

I was born and raised
on a dairy outside the town

of Cuttlesbreath Wash
on Aerelon.

Why do I have such a
hard time picturing you

milking cows
and shoveling manure?

Lack of imagination.

Or maybe that
your little tale is manure.

I've known people from Aerelon. You
don't sound anything like them.

I don't sound like I'm
from Aerelon? No.

Well, you know I take that
as a particular compliment.

I don't know about you, but I've
always found the Aerelon dialect

to be particularly
hard on the ears.

Something about the consonants

that scrape the back
of the throat.

Of course, I should know an awful
lot about my native tongue.

I spent hours on end
trying to overcome it.

Do you have any idea
how hard it is

for a 10-year-old boy
to change the way he speaks?

To unlearn everything
he ever learned

so that one day
there might be the small hope

that he might be considered
as not coming from Aerelon?

Maybe, I don't know, Caprica?

Caprica? Oh, to be Caprican.

The seat of politics, culture,
art, science, learning.

And what was Aerelon?
Just a drab, ugly rock,

condemned to be the food
basket for the 12 worlds.

And that's how we were treated, like
servants, like laborers, like working class.

You know, you would have
fitted right in there, Chief.

Lots of men who liked to work with their
hands and grab a pint down at the pub

and finish off the evening with
a good old-fashioned fight.

Oh, yes, I left Aerelon
after my 18th birthday.

I turned my back on my family,
on my heritage, all of them.

Of course, it doesn't matter.
They're all dead now.

You do realize that
none of that exists here.

Coming from the mouth
of a mechanic.

We've kept democracy.

We have government, we have
rights, we have elections...

Well, then you should feel
perfectly happy, shouldn't you?

Perfectly at ease. Go home!
Leave me in peace!

After all, that's what
the aristocracy wants.

It wants the working class
to feel looked after,

while they scrabble around for
scraps from the master's table.

There's a question I ask
at the end of my book.

I'll save you the trouble
of reading it.

Do you honestly believe that the
Fleet will ever be commanded

by somebody whose last
name is not Adama?

There it is, Chief.

One set of rules
for the aristocracy,

and one set of rules
for the rest of us.

We've given assignments to all
the new workers from the lottery.

Looks like you put 'em
right to work.

Yeah, yeah. They're okay. They're a
little skittish, but they'll catch on.

Right up here's where we had
the problem last time.

We got all kinds of gear slippage,
temperature variations.

We didn't know the dross
wasn't getting burned off.

And that's the bad fuel?

Yeah, it's running now, but we've
got a half-dozen other places

down the line
that could frak us.

What's that?

Whoa, that's it!
Hit the switch!

No, no, no! Not when it's jammed!
The whole system will seize up!

Gotta find it. Otherwise, the ore that's
still in the chambers will superheat

and set off a chain reaction
that will blow us all to hell!

Hurry! We've got
to get this going!

Right here! This is it!

You got it? Yeah!

Get it out of there.

I can't get my hands around it.

Come on, just give it a yank!
I can't get my hand on it!

Careful! Careful!

It's too small.
I can't get under it.

We've got some hot rocks up there! You've
got to get this thing started fast!

Give it a yank! Give it a yank! I
just can't get my hand around it!

I can't get my hand on it!

I can try! I can try!

Get in there!
I can probably fit.

Come on, Danny.
Okay, if he clears it,

the belt's gonna jump,
so you gotta be careful.

Way in the back. Got it.

There you go, there you go.
You got it. You got it.

You got it. Atta boy. Better...
Be careful!

Come on, Danny,
get a hold of it!

That's it! Atta boy!
Now, grab it! Pull it!

Pull it towards you! Pull hard!

Come on! Pull hard, Danny!

Yes! All right!

Good work, Danny. Good work.

Atta boy, Danny. Get out of there.
Come on out, come on out.

Medic! Medic!

Medic! Now!

Take it easy, buddy. We got you.
We're gonna work with you.

Go ahead, take it easy...
He's got multiple...

It's okay, buddy. You
did a great job. A great job.

Get in there! Get in there!

Okay.

You're gonna be okay.

You're gonna be okay.

I need more gauze. Just calm down, that's it.
Give me some more.

This plant is off-line!

We're on strike!

You need something, Captain?

Yeah, I frakking need something.
I need my Viper.

Sorry, Captain.
Vital missions only.

CAP is already up.
We did our job.

What do you mean,
vital missions only?

Whose orders?

Cally relayed the orders
from Chief Tyrol.

We're on strike.

Admiral.

Are you aware that your deck gang is
participating in a work stoppage?

It's called a general strike, sir.
It's a mutiny.

And do you know
what we do with mutineers?

We shoot them, Chief.

We're leaving people
behind, Admiral.

People are locked into their jobs,
they have no control over their lives.

They have no say.

We're abandoning them to their fate. It's
like we've marooned them on a planet.

That is not the issue.

The men and women on this ship are
not allowed to disobey an order,

especially in support of some
kind of frakking labor dispute.

We launched the CAP.

No one has abandoned their post.
We're not putting anyone in danger.

This is mutiny.

And it stops now.

Admiral, all I want is a
sit-down with the President.

This is the Admiral.

Arrest Cally Tyrol.

Take her under armed guard directly
to the starboard repair bay.

The repair bay?
What are you doing?

I'm gonna put her up against the bulkhead
and I'm gonna shoot her as a mutineer.

Are you out of
your frakking mind?

Cally was just
following my orders.

She's a ringleader,
so she goes first.

Then the rest of your deck gang,
Figurski, Seelix, Pollux...

You won't do this.

We have a son.

Understand me.

The very survival of this ship may
depend on someone getting an order

that they don't want to do.

And if they hesitate,

if they feel that orders
are sometimes optional,

then this ship will perish,

and so will your son
and the entire human race.

I don't want to do this, Chief.

But I will put 10 Callys
up against the wall

to make sure that this ship and
this fleet are not destroyed.

Fine.

I'll call it off.

This is the Admiral.

Do you have Cally in custody?

Put her on. Open the door.

- You okay?
- Don't worry about me.

I've been in a brig before.

Everything's okay.

Call off the strike.

Did they cave?

Yeah.

Call it Off.

I knew it.
I'll take care of it.

Galen, I'm proud of you.

Give the phone to the Marine.

Release her.

You can go now, Chief.

I thought you had something that you
wanted to discuss with the President.

Would you like another drink?
I think I've had enough.

Madam President,

I've seen people drafted into service
based purely on where they were born.

They've also been selected
based on their skills.

Which is a result
of where they were born.

Capricans are more likely
to be professionals.

Aerelons are more
likely to be farmers.

It's just a fact of life.

It's a fact I can't change.

True. But I think we can
level the playing field.

There are a lot of dirty jobs that need
to be done every day in this fleet,

cleaning, hauling, low-level
maintenance, things like that.

These are the kind of jobs that I
think should be allocated to people,

well, people like yourself.
No offense.

None taken. Go ahead.

Let some of the people on Colonial One
get their hands dirty for a change.

Done. What else?

People that are in dangerous
and high stress jobs

need to be rotated
out for R and R.

Now, in order to do that, we
need a formal training program.

We can talk about a training program
later, but right now I need to focus

on maintaining the work force
that we have,

and this is gonna have to be an
area where the union gives ground.

The union?

Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were
engaged in collective bargaining

on behalf of the
Colonial Workers' Alliance.

If that's not the case, then...
Madam President,

that union died on New Caprica.

Chief, the workers in this
fleet, they need someone

to represent them
and their interests.

And if this society
is becoming truly polarized

between an entrenched political class
and a disenfranchised underclass,

we are doomed.

We won't need the Cylons to destroy
us, we'll destroy ourselves.

The fleet that arrives at Earth will
not represent Colonial society at all.

I am willing to fight for that
society until my dying breath.

I would love it if you would
fight for that society as well.

Hmm.

I will.

I will, Madam President.
I will.

Pollux and Herschel,
you are on fueling 4372.

Chief Tyrol.

Hey, Captain.

Chief, one of my nuggets
failed to show up

for basic flight
instruction this morning.

Sorry to hear that, Captain.

So maybe you can tell me where
the hell Diana Seelix is?

Seelix. Front and center.

Flight instruction began
20 minutes ago, Seelix.

You want to be a pilot or not?

Yes, sir, but I thought that...

You will think when I tell
you to think, nugget.

And you might want to look
at the plan of the day.

Because then, maybe you'll know
where you're supposed to be

and you might actually
get there on time.

And you're out of uniform,
to boot.

Oh, I'm sorry, Captain.
I think I can handle that.

Thank you, Chief. Hold this.

You have to be
an officer to fly Vipers.

You know that.

Detail. Hand-salute!

Thank you, Chief. Thank you.

Congratulations, Ensign.

All right, this is all very touching,
but you were supposed to be

in Ready Room Four
20 minutes ago, Ensign,

which means that you are falling
behind on your first day.

So move it.

Don't look at him!
Move it! Move it!

Be nice.