Marine: Okay, don't push! You'll all get an equal share of the food!
Crowd Guy: You're eating the food!
Marine: Zero's equal. *munch* Now shut up or we'll go Gideon on your butts.
Crowd Guy: This sucks! Let's beat up that Six to let off steam.
Caprica: Eep.
Adama: *sigh* I don't know about this. My ship... a living ship?
Tyrol: Eh, it'll be fine. We're just using Cylon materials to help us survive our fight with the Cylons. What could go wrong?
Adama: Well, just remember, I draw the line at bio-neural gelpa-- ewww. What's this gunk I just stepped in?
Tyrol: Shh! Don't insult it. It knows your fears now.
Cottle: The baby's in good condition. You do want that, right? I could always --
Tigh: NO. Honey, why do you keep making these random trips to Down Below? I told you, they're not gonna let the XO run out of food.
Caprica: Sorry, Saul. You know how pregnant women get cravings...
Tigh: You were craving cheap, tasteless rations?
Caprica: And violence against humans. I guess that one might not be new.
Hoshi: Huh. Admiral, we're detecting a lone Raptor that's supposed to be out of service.
Adama: You're pretty chipper considering Gaeta's execution.
Hoshi: Well, it's mysterious! Anybody could be on that ship! Someone we thought was dead, some old friend of yours with a deadly secret... maybe even another new Cylon model!
Adama: Good point. Tell Starbuck I want that thing destroyed.
Boomer: (over the comm) Don't shoot! We more or less come in peace, so stay back or else!
Some Random Six: Sounds bipolar enough to be an Eight. Are you going to let her land?
Starbuck: I dunno. We do already have one of those.
Adama: (over the comm) Bring her in, Starbuck. We've needed a spare before.
Ellen: Saul!
Tigh: Ellen!
Adama: *watches, deeply concerned*
Lee: Why does this scenario feel so familiar?
Starbuck: Don't tie me up with questions.
Tyrol: *stares in Boomer's eyes* Hey Admiral, this Eight is Boomer. I'm sure of it.
Baltar: *stares in Tyrol's eyes* You're single again! I'm sure of it!
Adama: Nuh-uh. Get her to the brig. This is one thrilling romantic subplot I can actually prevent.
Ellen: ...and that's the story of Earth and the Final Five.
Adama: Yes, we know. By an amazing coincidence, we just found all this out ourselves.
Ellen: Then why did you let me talk for three hours?
Roslin: Novelty value. We've never heard you say anything non-slutty before.
Ellen: That is offensive and untrue! Now get out of here so Saul and I can do it on the table.
Tigh: That was cheap and tawdry. You really are back!
Ellen: You've found someone else, haven't you? It's okay, I won't get mad.
Tigh: Well... I have a thing going with a Six.
Ellen: I WILL DRINK HER BLO-- um, can't wait to meet her!
Baltar: I'm back, ladies!
Baltar's Groupies: Yay!
Paulla: Eh.
Six: That one's trouble.
Baltar: I'm glad I have you to point these things out to me.
Cottle: Geez, who called for the Cylon party? Just don't unplug Anders. I do the euthanizing around here.
Some Random Six: It's so good to finally see you five together. How's the little bundle of joy, Colonel?
Ellen: The WHAT? You got your floozy pregnant? After we could never have a child?
Tigh: That wasn't my fault! You were always busy sleeping with other men!
Ellen: I was confused!
Some Random Eight: (Smooth. Why would you ask him that in front of his wife?)
Some Random Six: (I meant his hip flask!)
Tori: Let's get down to business here: the Cylons think we should take off and abandon the fleet. I'm in favour since I'm pretty much evil now.
Tigh: I'm against! No proud son of the Colonies would ever agree to --
Tyrol: When do we leave?
Tigh: *death glare*
Tori: Well, Anders is a tool, so he'd vote with you. Ellen?
Ellen: Can I decide later? I have some serious passive aggressing planned.
Tori: And so ends another productive meeting. God, I hate you all.
Baltar: What a cute little boy! What's his name?
Woman: Gaius. After his father.
Baltar: Um...
Woman: Where's the child support, Gaius?
Baltar: (to the crowd) Food! Food for everyone! Food and distractions!
Roslin: So congratulations on your creepy mutant baby, uh...
Caprica: Caprica. Apparently I'm using that name even with you people now.
Roslin: Really? Aren't you afraid I'll put it together that you're the one who blew up the planet?
Caprica: Saul tells me you tend to randomly forgive any atrocities that weren't done to you personally. If I'd stepped on your foot, then I'd worry.
Tyrol: Think I should go see Boomer?
Starbuck: Why not? You're not getting any bereavedier. And what's the worst that can happen, two bullets to the head?
Tyrol: I don't think the booze is helping your depression.
Starbuck: I'll stop drinking when we all die in the finale. Bottoms up!
Worker Six: Do you want something, Admiral?
Adama: Don't mind me. I'll just be over here staring at the construction with deep ambivalence.
Worker Six: Okay, no problem. (Put the cards away, guys! We've gotta actually work now!)
Ellen: Hi, I'm Ellen. You know, Saul's WIFE. I want you to know I wish you the best.
Caprica: Really?
Ellen: Of course! I didn't just come here to say YOU'LL NEVER REPLACE ME or something. What makes you think so, YOU BLATCH?
Caprica: Well, I can't help but notice all my things are on fire.
Paulla: Oh great, here come the Sons of Aries. I told you.
Baltar: Relax, my dear. Maybe they could take our food when you were in charge, but now that the man is back, I'd like to see them try!
(Thirty seconds later)
Baltar: The important thing is that we all still have each other.
Paulla: You're right. Let's eat you first.
Tigh: To the mutant baby I'm having with a robot who's not even my robot wife!
Adama: To the steady assimilation of my ship and crew by the Cylons!
(Both drink)
Tigh: God, Bill, what the hell has happened to us?
Adama: These days I just drink till it doesn't bother me.
Paulla: Now what we should do, if stupid-head will stay out of it next time...
Baltar: This isn't fair! I sincerely care about these nutjob cult bimbos, and she's stealing them!
Six: Sincerely? Gaius, the last time you told the truth your lips actually caught fire.
Baltar: Listen to me, people! Paulla is leading you astray! We need to win and not lose, and I will magically make that happen!
Six: Please. How dumb do you think they --
Cult: BALTAR! BALTAR!
Six: Sometimes I forget you could sell condoms at a nunnery.
Adama: *stare*
Worker Six: (This is getting a little annoying.)
Tigh: Ellen, I know you're mad at me. But can't you have a tantrum that doesn't doom human civilization?
Ellen: We made the Sixes! She's like your daughter! It's even grosser than it looks!
Tigh: I'm sure we can sort this out peacefu--
Ellen: I see there's no reasoning with you. Come on out, people! I'm ready to vote!
Tori: Finally. It's hard to hear through this door.
Tigh: *sigh* Very Hamlet of you, Ellen. I knew I should have brought my sword.
Adama: *stare*
Worker Eight: (Hey! Is he ogling me?)
Worker Six: (Who cares? You're an Eight. Every male human has seen your model naked by now.)
Tyrol: So it's settled now, right? Let's get outta here so I can start regretting this.
Tigh: Oh, screw you all!
Tori: (Isn't that more Ellen's thing?)
Tigh: Go ahead, leave! Betray the human race! More booze for me!
Ellen: See, Caprica? It's not you or me he loves, it's Adama.
Caprica: *doubling over* ARRRRGH! The baby!
Tigh: Dammit, Ellen, how many times have I warned you? Bad things happen when you feed the slashers!
Cottle: Typical amateur diagnosis. She's actually having a DWPMMCPC.
Ellen: A what?
Cottle: Dramatic worst-possible-moment major-character pregnancy complication. It's perfectly routine.
Tigh: Then... then the baby will be okay?
Cottle: Hell no. Where did you learn about drama?
Adama: *staaaaare*
Worker Six: (If he doesn't get out of here soon, I'm throwing some of the goop at him.)
Worker Five: (Good idea. He's not in much better shape than the ship.)
Ellen: Use the power of heart, Saul! It's their only chance!
Cottle: I'm sorry, it's too late. The baby's gone.
Tigh: What? You quack! How do you lose an entire baby?
Ellen: *whispers in Tigh's ear*
Tigh: ...Oh. Oh no.
Adama: I'm wise to your tricks now, Baltar. Don't waste your breath.
Baltar: Admiral, people are starving! And since you apparently can't be bothered to stop the Sons of Aries with your actual security forces, we have to do it ourselves. Thus, you need to give me a big crate of deadly weapons.
Adama: *sigh* Very well. But just one.
Baltar: ...Thus, you need to give me a nuclear warhead.
Adama: Very well. But just -- hey!
Tyrol: *stare*
Boomer: (I hope he's ogling me.)
Paulla: *cocks rifle* Nice. Very nice.
Groupie 1: I got one that shoots snakes!
Groupie 2: Mine shoots lasers that are made of lasers!
Six: Yeah, this was smart.
Baltar: The important thing is that I'm armed now.
Six: Oh? Why's that?
Woman: Where's Baltar? I'm gonna take that child support out of his hide!
Baltar: Self-defense.
Tigh: *sob* Oh, Bill! What did we do to deserve this?
Adama: There there, old friend. You didn't deserve it, and neither did the baby.
Tigh: I can't help but notice you left Caprica out of that list.
Adama: Well, I'd cut to a certain scene from the mini, but it would be tactless.
Anders: (eyes pop open) Hey! Who's a tool?
Roslin: Uh oh. The Cylons are posting their casualties on the Wall of Death.
Adama: So that's why the photocopier's been draining so much power.
Roslin: You realize what's begun here, right?
Adama: *nods sagely* Yes, I do. It has.
(It begins at Ludicrous Speed)
THE END
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