Five-Minute Battlestar Galactica: The Miniseries
The Cylons were created by man. That's right, you heard me. By man. Eat karmic dust, puny humans! Mwahahahaha... wait, what was I saying?
Colonel: (tossing a ball against the wall) ...sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six...
Tyrol: We've got a present for you, sir -- your old Viper.
Tigh: I raise.
Doctor: I'm sorry, Madam Secretary, but the cancer is quite advanced.
Baby: Goo goo ga ga.
Kellan Brody: Today we have with us Dr. Gaius Baltar to share his views on modern technology. Doctor?
Six: Honey, I'm home.
Tyrol: Welcome to the Galactica, Captain Adama. It's an honour to --
Baltar: It sure was generous of you to re-write my entire navigation program. I hope unlimited access to the entire Colonial defense mainframe was compensation enough.
Doral: Welcome to the Galactica, Madam Secretary.
Apollo: Hello, Kara.
Baltar: Darling, I can explain, I swear! It's not what it looks like!
Apollo: Hi Dad. I brought you a present.
Six: Do you understand what I'm telling you, Gaius? I'm a machine.
Adama: The Cylon Wars are long over, or so they want us to think. We have played God, and we will have to atone for our sins. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday. Or maybe today.
Reporter 1: ...it's unknown at this time the number of nuclear devices that have been detonated butKZZZZTT!
Gaeta: Commander, we've just received a message: the Cylons are back. And they've got nukes.
CAG: Two Cylon raiders incoming.
Helo: I told the Chief they should've loaded Linux on those Vipers.
Doral: Captain, thank goodness you're here. Something needs to be done about that woman!
Boomer: We're a military craft! We can't take you with us!
Boomer: ...eenie, meenie, miney, moe. Come on, get aboard.
Apollo: Where are you in the line of succession, Madam Secretary?
Apollo: (over the comm) The President's ordering you to rendezvous at our coordinates for rescue operations.
TO BE CONTINUED....
Gaeta: Ready for FTL jump to Ragnar station, Commander. We just need a catchphrase.|
Adama: Very well. Engage.
Adama: No? How about "Make it so"?
Adama: "Time to take out the trash"?
Adama: Just make the jump already.
Roslin: Captain, are you all right? What happened?
Tyrol: Okay, gang, let's round up the ammo and get it loaded. There's the warheads, the bullets, and the... crazy person pointing a gun at me.
Baltar: There's no place like sanity. There's no place like sanity. There's no place like sanity....
Boomer: We got a great big convoy, rockin' through the night, yeah, we got a great big convoy, ain't she a beautiful sight? Come on and join our -- uh oh.
Apollo: The Cylons have found us. We have to jump to Ragnar immediately.
Adama: Feeling all right? You don't look so good.
Dualla: Sir, a group of ships just appeared on our scopes.
Leoben: If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can ever imagine.
Gaeta: Here's the information on your program the Cylons are using to shut down Colonial defenses, Doctor, although it's never been fully installed on the Galactica.
Tigh: Aw, crap. The Cylons look human now?
Adama: Doctor, since any one of us could be a Cylon spy, we need you to create some means of differentiating Cylon from human. You're the only person we can trust with this delicate mission and did you just snicker?
Starbuck: Lee, before I go on recon, there's something I want to give you.
Tigh: How do you know this guy is a Cylon?
Adama: I have no intention of running, Madam President. I'm going to test this ship's three most important functions: fighting, abandoning helpless civilians, and stubbornly standing its ground beyond all odds or reason.
Adama: All right, we're going to take the civilians with us and get the hell out of this system.
Doral: You can't leave me here! Have mercy!
Colonial Ships: FWISH! FWISH! FWISH!
Eloisha: ...and may the Lords of Kobol protect the souls of our fallen commrades. Commander Adama, do you have any inspirational words to give this dejected crew hope?
Six: You won't win, you know. We'll find you.
Doral: You're late.
TO BE CONTINUED....
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DISCLAIMER: A lot of stuff in here is copyrighted by the Sci-Fi Channel, who cancelled Farscape, so screw 'em.
All material © 2005, Carolyn Paterson.