conversation
is like walking through
a minefield.
And you're the last person
who should be lecturing me
about manners.
From what l hear,
you've also been riding
Chief Tyrol pretty good.
Press it.
(machine buzzing)
l just reminded him
that l expect
Viper maintenance...
to take precedence
over his hobby project.
(Starbuck)
Nice.
l'm surprised he didn't take
a swing at you.
Come on, Starbuck.
You don't actually think
that piece of junk's
gonna actually fly, do you?
(guns firing)
Fifty cubits says
he gets it in the air.
Yeah? And who's gonna fly it?
lt's not gonna be me.
Don't look at me!
(Apollo)
l wasn't looking at you.
What?
l'll fly it.
l'll fly it.
You?
Me.
Why?
Because while everyone else
is standing around whining...
(Apollo)
We're whining?
...the Chief
is doing something positive.
l'm deeply moved.
Really?
Honestly, l am.
(Starbuck laughing)
(Apollo laughing)
His lips are blue!
(whispering)
You look like a blueberry.
There's no oxygen in here.
There's no oxygen in here.
No oxygen.
(Starbuck laughing)
(gasping)
(Starbuck wheezing)
l'm out.
(both gasping)
Nice shot.
(alarm sounding)
The environmental computer
decided that the firing range
was over pressurized...
and started bleeding out air
to compensate.
Two more minutes,
we may have been dead.
Power fluctuations.
Equipment failures.
Sir, l think l've found
what's causing it.
What is that?
(Baltar)
A Cylon logic bomb.
A heuristic computer virus.
lt's capable of learning,
evolving.
lt's probably running
in parallel...
with every computer
in the ship, right now...
just waiting to be activated.
No doubt left behind...
when the Cylons
infiltrated the network
Col. Tigh set up...
the day you were shot, sir.
That was weeks ago.
Why now?
Most likely, sir,
it took that long
for it to crack...
our encrypted pass-codes.
And once that happened,
it started testing its ability
to control our systems.
Electrical, environmental.
How do you kill it?
Well, that's the tricky part.
lf it's a Cylon virus,
it is extremely difficult
to eradicate.
Well, l guess
l'm pretty lucky then.
Because l have
an expert onboard.
Tell Helo to run this past
our prisoner.
(grunting)
(men chattering)
Come on. Come on.
For frak's sakes.
Son of a bitch!
Gods damn it!
(machine humming)
l got it. Go back to work.
lt's a two-man job, Chief.
You want this wing up or not?
On three.
One, two, three.
(Tyrol)
Great. Great, hold it there.
Pull it that way.
Sir, we're continuing
to experience power spikes...
and equipment failures
across the ship.
Thank you.
We'd better up
our alert status...
and put our damage control
teams on standby.
Not yet.
Have you seen the ship
that the Chief is building?
His imaginary fighter?
l don't need to see it.
l know it's a waste of time.
The deck crew doesn't seem
to think so.
We need to focus on the fleet
we've got left...
not get bogged down
in some pipe dream.
You should shut it down.
lt may come to that.
This project,
it's giving them something.
l'm not going to take
that away until l have to.
(men chattering)
Doc Cottle cleared me.
And l feel like
hitting something.
Okay. Don't square up.
Don't square up.
Rotate,
and just drop the knee.
(man chattering)
That's nice.
Now,
if you want to throw them...
l'll be you.
Head in a lock,
grab the wrist,
secure the arm...
and l'm just gonna
drop the knee, rotate 45.
Okay.
(exhaling)
Are you all right?
Yeah.
Just like we did in basic.
Let's bring a live opponent
into the mix.
(man chattering)
(man)
Nice.
And strip the knife.
(knocking on door)
(Dualla)
Billy.
Hey.
Hey.
How long have you been
onboard?
l just arrived.
Do you have actual memories
of being with the Chief
before the Cylon attack?
Yeah.
l'm sorry. You asked.
Do you still love him?
Helo...
you're the father
of my child.
You're the first in my heart
and nothing is ever
going to change that.