All right.
We have to get to this.
Dr. Baltar says
it's some sort of Cylon
logic bomb.
Do you see anything?
Can you flip?
Sharon?
Sharon?
Sharon.
l need to talk to
Cmdr. Adama. Right now.
Why?
lt's a Cylon virus,
all right.
lt's been learning
your systems. Testing,
adapting, finding weak spots.
For what?
So they can turn
Galactica's systems
against you.
Crash you into other ships,
detonate
your weapons stores...
suffocate the crew.
What about you? The baby?
l'm a liability to them...
a mistake.
Helo, this logic bomb
will run its course
in a matter of hours.
Once it does, the Cylons
will be on top of us.
They're going to kill us all.
Cmdr. Adama--
Whatever it is
you have to say,
make it quick.
(machines humming)
Well, l hate to say it,
but you've got the cockpit
too far back.
You're gonna run into
CG problems
when you maneuver.
We're not going
for maneuverability, Captain.
We're going for speed.
Besides, you didn't think
this thing would fly anyway.
Well, it sure as hell won't
with the cockpit
rammed up its--
Dee?
Hey.
(Apollo)
What are you doing here?
Communications, l think.
She's great with hydraulics,
but this comm system
is a mess.
Ten-hut.
l had to see this
with my own eyes.
Won't be long
before we have
the whole ClC down here.
You working on this
class project, too, Apollo?
No.
lt's good to see
someone has a little sense.
Where's the Chief?
Tool room?
Aye, getting some
rack time, sir.
(door opening)
(Tigh)
What's this, Chief?
(door closing)
Making solvent, sir.
To clean engine parts.
Solvent, my ass.
l know a still
when l smell it,
what the hell are you up to?
(liquid dripping)
l need booze
to trade for parts.
l'm scrounging
most of what l can
from the fleet.
But l need engines.
l know l need
Cmdr. Adama's permission...
to cannibalize
one of the wrecks.
Engines or not, we both know
that piece of crap out there
is never going to fly.
l gotta try, Colonel.
What's the point?
Because that ship, the work,
that's all l've got left.
l don't have that, l....
(tap squeaking)
l almost forgot. l promised
the XO of the Baah Pakal
l'd help him out.
Sir?
He's got some obsolete
DDG-62 engines...
that's taking up space
on his flight deck.
They're probably crap
but l told him that l would
have a crew in there...
to haul them out
as soon as possible.
Glad to be of help, sir.
Good.
Madam President,
your shuttle's ready.
Of course.
Thank you again
for letting me use
your quarters.
Please.
l wanted to return this.
This was a gift.
''Never lend a book,'' l know.
But l've had it far too long.
lt belongs in your collection.
l'm late for a quorum meeting.
ls there a problem?
Our computers
have been infected
by a Cylon virus...
corrupting systems
throughout the entire ship.
l've just been notified
that this is a prelude...
to an all-out attack
by the Cylons.
l assume you've tried
to disable it.
Mr. Gaeta
and the Vice President
are handling that right now.
l'm not hopeful.
Commander, l'm not sure
what l can offer you here
besides my moral support.
Actually, Madam President...
l could use your advice.
You want to what?
Completely erase
our computer drives...
cold restart
the entire ship's system...
and then restore them
using our prewar backups.
Leaving us with our pants down
until we're back online.
The Commander
will never go for this.
l've already spoken to him,
sir.
What did he say?
He's considering it.
lt's the only way
to destroy the virus.
l thought
the Commander told you
to stay out of this.
l'm sorry,
do you want to survive
this one or not?
All right, so we calculate
a jump and get some distance
on these Cylon bastards--
No, sir,
we can't risk a jump.
All of our systems
are compromised,
including navigation.
The virus could drop us
in the middle of a sun.
We're running out of time.
Our signal's gonna catch up
with the Cylon fleet.
lf we haven't come up