"The Cylons were created by man," announces the opening crawl. "They were created to make life easier on the twelve colonies. They were also created because it's 2003 now, and these days you just can't have bad guys without motives that are directly attributable to the hubris of the good guys." From there we fade up on a small space tug rotating along on its Y-axis to dock with a larger space station. Uh huh. Once secured, the SS Stanley Kubrip disgorges an elderly white guy whose pasty-white skin tone, wispy gray comb-over, and unfortunate tendency towards uniform selections involving mock turtlenecks and shiny epaulets have all combined to earn him the obvious nickname of "Grand Moff Snarkin." Snarkin soon finds himself in a giant metal room that contains nothing but a desk and a ridiculously over-complicated lighting scheme that's so ineffective that I actually started to wonder if Ron Moore might have poached some of the lighting crew from Oz while he was hanging out on the HBO lot last year. Snarkin slowly settles down behind the desk, and sets up an oh-so-cute collection of family photographs to make his giant metal box feel a little homier. And also because the little boy in the one picture is actually Boxey, even though we won't meet the kid for another hour and a half and we'll have completely forgotten this scene by then.
In any event, the crawl continues: "And then the day came when the Cylons decided to kill their masters. After a long and bloody struggle, an armistice was declared. The Cylons left for another world to call their own. A remote space station was built where Cylon and Human [and Centauri and Narn, presumably] could meet and maintain diplomatic relations. Every year the Colonials send an officer. The Cylons send no one." Snarkin, meanwhile, has taken a moment to review a folder labeled "Cylon specs," affording us all a nice little laugh at the quaint, pre-CGI "space-toaster" look of the old-school bad guys. What I'm wondering here, however, is why he's got eight-by-ten glossies of his entire family tree hanging everywhere if this is supposed to be a diplomatic station. You don't see Kofi Annan putting up pictures of his grandkids in the Security Council chamber, now do you?
Suddenly, the doors to the room slide open, and two new-model Cylons step inside. They've still got the flashing red eye, and the new, retractable claws are kind of cool, but all in all they still sort of have an unfortunate metal-plated Jar-Jar feel to them. On the other hand, we never actually see them again, so I guess it's not that big of a deal. And then, just to prove that this is not your father's (or your older brother's, or even your misspent youth's) Battlestar Galactica, a sexy blonde lady strides in behind them, and the Foley team goes nuts dubbing in the clanging of her stiletto heels on the metal floor. This, of course, is Number Six, only we don't know that yet. For now you can just assume that somebody cloned Natasha Henstridge from Species and put her in a red velour mini-skirt. Six stands directly above Snarkin, and then slowly leans down to sniff him a few times. You know, because inappropriate sniffing as foreplay is one of those bizarre little incestuous activities that seems to show up in every show I recap. "Are you alive?" she asks, apropos of absolutely nothing. A clearly discombobulated Snarkin has to think for almost a full minute before he can summon the wherewithal to whisper, "Yes." Oy. Worst. Ambassador. Ever. How the hell did this guy get promoted to Grand Moff, anyway? Number Six challenges him to prove that he is, in fact, alive, and then does the job herself by planting a big wet kiss right on his lips. Hmm. Most people prefer to just hold up a mirror, but I kind of like her way better. The Grand Moff gets a little tongue-y here, incidentally. If that's the sort of thing you're interested in knowing.
We then cut outside to see that a massive Cylon Basestar, which -- unlike the Colonial Battlestars -- actually resembles a star, is dwarfing the tiny space station. Or maybe the ship design here is actually just a subliminal advertisement for the new X-Men 2 DVD, thrown in as some sort of synergistic sci-fi solid for the parent company. A single missile flies out of the Basestar, striking the very tip of the station and setting off a chain reaction of explosions. "It has begun," whispers Number Six, and then she straddles the Grand Moff and starts kissing him again as the room goes up in flames around them. You know, because nothing says 2003 quite like a sexy suicide bomber.
The First Law of Science Fiction: If you give something a brain, it will kill you. (See: The Matrix, Blade Runner, 2001, Frankenstein, Terminator.)
Well, hey. At least they kept the font, right?
Fade up on a surprisingly cool shot of the Galactica, seen through a massive crater that's been gouged out of a nearby moon. We zoom through the crater, along the Battlestar's hull, through the landing pods, and down into a port-side corridor, where our second major historical revision of the evening is going for her morning jog. Yes, that's right. I said "her." Starbuck is a chick now. Deal with it. And personally, I couldn't care less that they made her a girl. I do, however, care that they made her pointless, whiny, and petulant, although we'll talk more about that later. For now, you can just assume that someone cloned Alec Newman from the first Dune mini-series and gave him breasts. Nice ones, too. We follow Starbuck as she makes her way through the corridors, passing through a crowd of journalists being shepherded through the ship by a PR flack who couldn't possibly be named anything except The Poor Man's Kevin Spacey. PMKS gracefully accepts the hand-off of Starbuck's exposition baton, and then strikes out on his own leg of the 4x400 plot point relay. He doesn't get very far, however, because Edward James Olmos pompousifies his way into the corridor, snagging the baton and getting his ass kissed by everyone who passes. The ass-kissing, by the way, will be a running theme for this entire mini-series. Olmos is playing Commander Adama, of course, and I'm sorry to report that the years have not been kind to Lieutenant Castillo. Or perhaps they've been too kind. Do they actually make military uniforms with a 42-inch waist?
Adama eventually bumps into Starbuck, because Galactica only has about fifty feet of corridor in the entire ship, and it all twists and loops back on itself like the world's largest styrofoam and balsa wood Mobius strip. Starbuck engages in a bit of gentle ass-kissing herself, just so we know that these two have some sort of prior friendly relationship. Then they exchange the following lines of dialogue, which I'm transcribing here only because they'll be relevant later, despite being utterly nonsensical:
Adama: What do you hear?
Starbuck: Nothing but the rain.
Adama: Then grab your gun and bring in the cat.
Starbuck: Boom boom boom!
A significant portion of this show's targeted demographic: Let's go back to my room.
Starbuck resumes her morning run at this point, passing the exposition baton off to a crew of low-rate mechanics, whom I'll be calling Corporal Dirty Girl, Private First Class Soon To Be Dead Guy, and Chief Petty Officer Token Hispanic. They themselves bump into Adama, and then frantically scramble to hide the giant gift-wrapped package they're carrying. They also fake swear, and while I'm given to understand that "frak" is a leftover from the original series, I still have to wonder if it was a wee bit too close to "frell" to suit the Sci-Fi suits. Because he's eminently kind and wise, and obviously used to junior subordinates falling all over themselves in an attempt to offer him a galactic rim-job, Adama merely smiles and admonishes the kids to "be careful out there." Whoops. Somebody needs to tell Olmos that he's quoting the wrong '80s cop show.
By the way, did I mention that this has all (theoretically) been one long take so far? Because it has been. And it will be for the next three paragraphs or so, as well.
After his encounter with the mechanics, Adama finds his way to the bridge, where he's met by a young officer named "Lieutenant Gaeta." That's totally not going to stop me from calling him Commodore 64 for the rest of the recap, however, because he spends most of his time on this show punching buttons on outdated computers and saying things like "10 Print 'Good Morning, Captain.' 20 Goto 10." Commodore 64 gratefully accepts the exposition baton, but stumbles a bit coming out of the blocks when he's forced to repeat the news that they've lost communication with the armistice station that we already saw getting blown up in the teaser. Then he puckers up and tells Adama that it's been a pleasure to gosub with him for all these years before heading off to an exit on the far side of the bridge. And I just know there's a peek/poke joke in there somewhere, but it's been way to long since I coded in Basic for me find it.
Upon exiting the bridge, Commodore 64 discovers the ship's XO (also known as Colonel McCain), hunched over and leaning against a bulkhead for support. He gives a worried salute, and Col. McCain rallies enough to return it and stagger down the corridor in the opposite direction. He bobs and weaves a bit, but does manage to pass the exposition baton off to Poor Man's Kevin Spacey, who eagerly sets off on the relay's anchor leg. "You'll see things here that look odd, or even antiquated to modern eyes," he tells his flock of reporters. "Like phones with cords, awkward manual valves, and computers that, well, barely deserve the name." "Hey! I heard that," shouts Commodore 64, from somewhere in the undefined n-space that connects the Mobius corridors. PMKS goes on to explain that the Cylons can hack all modern computers, so mankind was actually forced to look backwards to find technology to fight them with. Aww. I always knew my Apple IIe would save the world someday.
The lengthy tracking shot finally comes to a close, and after a brief pause so that all of our racers can piss into a cup for steroid testing, we cut to the Galactica's hangar bay, where Adama has arrived to accept the adulation of the entire deck crew. I guess he just got tired of everyone sucking up to him individually in all those face-to-face encounters. Presumably because it's somewhat difficult to kiss ass when you're face-to-face, but that's a different story. The senior mechanic, known to friends and subordinates alike as Master Chief Brownnose, gets all of his people lined up at attention, and then presents Adama with his going-away present: The original Mark Two Viper that Adama flew back in his pilot days. This would probably be a good time for me to inform the readers who didn't actually watch that the Galactica is scheduled for decommissioning later today (she's being turned into a museum), and one can only assume that Adama himself is being shipped off to wherever old pockmarked warhorses go when they've outlived their usefulness. In this case, of course, that turns out to be a pilot on the Sci-Fi network. Master Chief Brownnose brags that the Viper has been lovingly restored, and is even flight-capable. Adama is impressed with this gesture in much the same way that a cat owner would be if their pet brought them back a particular juicy dead mouse, and then the Master Chief decides to top things off by presenting his commanding officer with the big gift-wrapped package we saw earlier. The contents turn out to be a photo of Adama standing in front of his Viper with his two little boys. Solely because it will be important later, I'll just note now that the picture frame is octagonal. I'll also note that Young Edward James Olmos was a little creepy-looking.
Down in the ready room, Colonel McCain freshens his cup of coffee with about a gallon and a half of vodka. Then he sits down to play cards with the other actors who have speaking parts and helpfully exposits for the third time that the blonde chick at the other end of the octagonal table is, in fact, Starbuck. You know, in case the pointy nipples and relentless pre-air hype didn't make it clear that Dirk Benedict has recently spent some time at a secluded medical facility in Switzerland. The other players at the table include Boomer (now an Asian woman), her co-pilot Sergeant Sacrificial Stan, and Captain Wants To Be Vin Diesel But Looks More Like Mortimer Kerosene. Mortimer is never to be seen again, so we can dispense with caring about him altogether. Boomer, on the other hand, has turned out to be something of a hottie. Woo hoo! I'm just glad they didn't make her keep Herb Jefferson's original seventies hairstyle, which is apparently what they've decided to do with Starbuck. In any event, the lesson to be learned from this scene is that Starbuck and Colonel McCain don't like each other. He mocks her for getting thrown in the brig, and she teases him about his absent spouse. Then she wins the pot (and yes, both the coins and the cards are octagonal), and jumps up to gloat and do an incredibly annoying little dance. Sigh. I'm with you all the way on girling up Boomer, guys, but I'd almost rather have the robot dog back than this incarnation of Starbuck. Colonel McCain lunges out of his seat to slug her (and really, who can blame him?), but it's Starbuck who scores the only real punch in this fight. The rest of the crew pulls them apart (although Starbuck does execute that cheesy "I'm fine" followed by a re-rush move that only ever happens on TV), and Colonel McCain gleefully orders her to report to the brig. Starbuck, who's been chewing on both a lollipop and a cigar throughout this entire scene (because she's manly! But still girly! And has an oral fixation!), reluctantly complies.
Cut to Adama's quarters, where he convinces Colonel McCain not to press charges against Starbuck. Interesting things we can learn from this scene include the fact that Adama knows his XO is a drunk, shoes in the future will all use octagonal Velcro fasteners, and Starbuck's real name is "Kara Thrace." Also, Edward James Olmos in brown underwear is a scary, scary sight.
Caprica City. Or, as I like to call it, Coruscant Lite. In what is indisputably the lamest subplot in the entire mini-series, Mary McDonnell meets with her doctor and gets diagnosed with terminal breast cancer. In other words, the writers have an out if the pilot gets picked up and she doesn't want to commit to a series. The other blatantly stupid thing about this scene is that an overzealous location scout has gotten a little carried away while searching for "futuristic" office space, and has elected to locate this particular doctor's office in a room where the largest wall is comprised entirely of windows. Hmm. I'm not really sure that's the sort of place most women would want to go for their annual mammogram. I mean, I enjoy a good public "turn your head and cough" just as much as the next guy, but this is taking things a little too far, I think. "I'm afraid the tests are positive," explains Doctor Voyeur. "The mass is malignant. It's advanced well past…" Well past what? Her nipples? Her sternum? My suspension of disbelief? We'll never know, because the sound a low-flying Exposition Airlines jet drowns out the rest of his dialogue. Heh. I guess people who work in glass offices shouldn't throw plot points.
The sound of the jet cross-fades us to a passenger liner hurtling through space, where Mary McDonnell is being briefed about the decommissioning ceremony by her assistant. Said assistant looks to be about twelve years old, so I'll be calling him Lackey Howser. Mary listens patiently to his random blather for a few minutes, and then suddenly bolts for the bathroom, where she sobs and feels herself up. Yes, you read that right.
Back on Earth, the blonde Cylon babe from the opening scene is taking a nice afternoon stroll through that one building complex in Vancouver that's been in just about every science-fiction show ever made. I think we're probably supposed to be shocked to see Number Six alive after she got blown up on the space station, but I was too busy trying to remember all the shows that have filmed at this place to notice. Mulder met Deep Throat here, for God's sake. The Stargate guys met the Tolan here. And while we're talking about Richard Dean Anderson, I'm also pretty sure this building was MacGyver's home office. Do people even work there anymore, or do they just rent the place out to film crews? In any event, Number Six spots a cute little baby resting in her stroller, and starts making small-talk with the kid's mother. They gush and coo for a bit, and then Six asks for permission to hold the baby. Dude. I don't even like it when people borrow my lighter, but Ma hands over her child to a total stranger without a care in the world. "So light…so fragile," observes Number Six. The baby starts bawling, but Six assures her that she won't have to cry much longer. And that particular line is finally enough to register on Ma's Susan-Smith-O-Meter, because she takes the kid back and returns her to the carriage. Then she looks away, perhaps distracted by the sight of David Duchovny and Chris Carter patiently waiting their turn to use this camera set-up. Number Six takes advantage of this to reach down into the stroller and snap the baby's neck. And she totally meant to do it, by the way, even though some people have speculated that it was an accident. I mean, how would we know she's supposed to be evil if she doesn't kill a baby?
Commercials. For some reason, I still feel weird every time I type that.
We come back to a shot of a TV show already in progress. And just in case that alone wasn't meta enough to suit your advanced, twenty-first century, Age of Irony tastes, the show in question features our old pal Baltar, checking his watch and looking really bored. Heh. He's apparently a guest on a futuristic version of the Barbara Walters show, and the host delivers so much condensed exposition about his background as Caprica's leading scientific genius that the camera has enough time to do a full 360-degree pan around Baltar's lakefront condominium before eventually settling down on Baltar himself, just as the Poor Man's Amanpour finally gets around to asking an actual question. Baltar blathers some sort of response, but we're obviously not meant to care about what he says, because Number Six has just walked into his house wearing nothing but a see-through dress and black pleather underwear. I'll say this for the Sci-Fi network: At least they know their audience. Baltar tells Poor Man's Amanpour that he thinks the Colonies should get back to the artificial intelligence research that was banned after the first Cylon war, and then we get a sudden jump-cut to Baltar and Number Six, macking future-style in the foyer. Incidentally, in the future, everyone will keep their goldfish in an Erlenmeyer flask. An octagonal Erlenmeyer flask, no doubt. Baltar and Six keep going at it, and he eventually leads her into the bedroom, where he rips off her dress because today's nerds have no patience for the merely see-through. I gotta say, Tricia Helfer is hot, but the black pleather panties aren't doing her any favors. They definitely looked better on Libby. Which actually brings me to the one good thing I can unreservedly say about Ron Moore's take on Battlestar Galactica: If nothing else, he's at least managed to bring over everything I like about Carnivale without any of that constant, pesky unwillingness to advance the plot. I mean, we've got hot pants, dirty people, characters coming back from the dead, inappropriate sexual relationships, and enough bizarre psycho-religious allegory to shake Moses' extra-phallic staff at. If they'd just made Apollo into a midget, it would have been absolutely perfect.
In any event, Number Six is having a distinctly human moment here, because all she really wants is for Baltar to say that he loves her. He, on the other hand, just wants the robo-sex. He wins, and she promptly throws him down onto the bed, climbs on board, and engages in as much simulated sexual thrusting as the basic cable censors will allow. She reaches up to pull off her poorly-fitted pleather bra, and the camera swings around behind her because nerds can't handle the sight of actual boobies without giggling and saying "boobies" over and over again. Heh. "Boobies." And then we get the big moment that you just know Ron Moore used in every single pitch meeting when discussing this project: the famous pulsing red Cylon light flashes up and down Number Six's spine just as she reaches orgasm. Classy! Somewhere out there, Lorne Greene is spinning in his grave.
The Second Law of Science Fiction: Robo-sex! (See: Blade Runner, Cherry 2000, AI, Westworld.)
Galactica. One of the new and not-at-all improved Vipers comes in for a landing. If Corvettes, lava lamps, and movie trilogies have taught us anything, it's that not everything from the seventies needs to be updated. These new Vipers are all pointy and done with really bad CGI, so it's probably for the best that they mostly get relegated to scrap metal before the end of the mini-series. The landing is accompanied by a six-hour, extended-length montage of various operations on the flight deck that wouldn't even make the cut on a Peter Jackson DVD. At long last the Viper's pilot is revealed to be Lee "Apollo" Adama, and he's rapidly greeted by Master Chief Brownnose. Because it's totally not obvious from appearances, the Master Chief has to verbally exposit that Apollo is supposed to be Edward James Olmos's son (one can only assume that his mother was the whitest woman in Liverpool) before sidling over to do a little cross-generational butt-kissing. Apollo, however, obviously has daddy issues, and Master Chief Brownnose actually gets a little pissy that Apollo isn't showing Lord Adama the proper respect.
Apollo eventually moves off, and the Master Chief turns to greet another new arrival. So I guess he's really more of a cruise director than a mechanic. That's probably just a shout-out to the whole "Love Boat In Space" vibe the original always seemed to have. Or maybe I'm the only one who thinks that way. Anyway, the new arrival is Boomer, and she's bitching that one of the "gimbals" on her ship is bad. In the future, "gimbal" is totally code for "nookie." You can tell because Cruise Director Brownnose claims that he's "pulled that gimbal three times and stripped it twice" (I just bet he has), and also because Boomer complains that he never listens to her needs. They take this argument into a nearby storage closet, and sure enough, they start making out. Oh, yeah. Boomer is hot. I'm also officially disposing of the "Master Chief Brownnose" nickname, and he'll henceforth be known as Master Chief Lovewrench. But only because I don't want to get sued for calling him Chief Knock-A-Booma.
Briefing Room. Some random officer goes over the plans for a flyby that's scheduled to occur during the decommissioning ceremony. He also officially welcomes Apollo to the Galactica, and everyone applauds because they love Edward James Olmos and they're happy that he's had sex at least once in his life. Apollo is also told that he'll be flying Daddy's old Viper for the ceremony, and he doesn't look very happy about it. Everyone boos because they love Edward James Olmos, and anyone who doesn't show him the proper respect is obviously a pinko Commie Cylon spy. I'm only exaggerating that last part a little.
Down on Ear…er, Caprica, Baltar and Number Six are walking around town. I'll give you three guesses which building is in the background, and the first two only count if you've never watched television before. Now anyone who watched the original already knows that Baltar is a bad guy, but just in case there are any newcomers among us, I'll point out that he's incredibly smug, wearing all black, couldn't be Eurotrashier if he tried, and is fucking a child-killer. Hopefully, that'll clear things up for you. Oh, and he's also smoking a cigarette. Flick…ahh. I guess that building's management wouldn't let them put up the big neon "EEEEEEEEEEEEVIL" sign that's really the only thing missing from this scene.
Anyway, it's time for blah blah backstory: Baltar let Number Six have full access to the Colonial defense mainframe while he worked on a navigation program for the fleet. That'll be important later. Then the topic of discussion suddenly switches to religion for some reason, and Number Six gets all defensive when Baltar mocks her faith in God. Yes, that's right. Just in case the smugness, the black clothes, the Eurotrashiness, the baby-killer-fucking, and the cigarette weren't enough to set off the warning bells, Baltar also believes that God is a bunch of "superstitious mumbo-jumbo." Plus he totally stares at her tits the whole time he's saying this. Heh. He also announces that he's graciously willing to overlook her faith in God because she does have "other attributes." Which are currently pointed right at his nose, by the way. The conversation breaks up when they both claim to have meetings to attend, and Baltar walks off to purchase a peg-leg and a disfiguring facial scar to complete his look. Number Six, meanwhile, looks up to the heavens with a sigh of exasperation. "It's about time," she says, to either God or the Cylon battle fleet. "I wondered when you'd get here."
Cut to an old-school Cylon Centurion, on display in the "Gift Shop" that now occupies one of Galactica's landing pods. Yeah. Way to show respect to your source material, guys. On the other hand, they're so obviously desperate to make this remake modern and "in-your-face" that I'm frankly surprised they didn't go with the obvious in-joke of putting a Starbuck's coffee shop in there somewhere. Although to be fair, those old costumes do look pretty cheesy. They were the shiznit back in the day, though. Can you dig it? In a different landing pod, Mary McDonnell is arriving on her passenger liner. She's greeted by Poor Man's Kevin Spacey, who leads her deeper into the ship to get ready for the ceremony. Lackey Howser tries to follow, but he's distracted by the sight of the only significant crew member we haven't met yet. It's Lieutenant Uhura, the stereotypically female African-American communications officer. She is kind of cute, so it's easy to understand why Lackey Howser gets distracted, but when he looks up again, he soon realizes that he's completely and utterly lost in the Mobius maze. He wanders around for a bit, and then, because the Sci-Fi network totally knows their audience, he ends up blundering into a coed locker-room. Lieutenant Uhura is in there washing up, and despite the fact that she (and everyone else in the room) is fully clothed, Lackey Howser gets all flustered and distracted. Yeah, whatever. I liked this scene better in Starship Troopers.
The Third Law of Science Fiction: Co-ed locker-rooms. They're every nerd's fantasy! (See: Starship Troopers, Robocop, Aliens, Ender's Game.)
Elsewhere in The Corridor, Edward James Olmos and Mary McDonnell are having a little chat. You'd totally think these two would be the thespian heavyweights here, right? Wrong. Mary looks sleepy, and just kind of stares off into space about three inches to the left of Olmos's eyes, and you can actually see Ed forget his lines in the middle of a sentence. Of course, he is trying to deliver awkward exposition about network node design and router installs, so it's somewhat understandable. Even in the future, bosses never understand IT. Those of you playing at home can now check "Galactica has no networked computer systems" off your exposition checklist. Only three hundred and twenty-seven more items to go!
Down in the brig, Starbuck is doing push-ups. "This looks familiar," quips Apollo. Ooh. Dirty! She jumps up to greet him with a smile, and her heavy breathing only adds to the serious porno vibe this entire scene is giving off. "Sorry I wasn't there to greet you with the rest of squadron, big boy," she adds. Whoa! What kind of movie is this, anyway? But wait, it gets worse: "Did they kiss your ass to your satisfaction?" she asks. Ew. In her defense, however, that is a valid question on this ship. The actor playing Apollo, by the way, is totally the illicit love child of Corin Nemec and Mark Wahlberg, which is another movie quite a few of you would probably like to see. They chat about how she ended up in the brig again, and Starbuck describes her crime as "striking a superior asshole." Then they discuss the fact that they haven't seen each other in two years, since the funeral of Apollo's brother Zak. Aww. I remember Zak. Apollo blames Dad for his death, and even Starbuck gives the boy grief for not respecting the old man like everyone else does. All right, seriously. What the hell is Olmos slipping into the ventilation shafts on this ship? Or do they just keelhaul the people who fail to express their undying love for the guy at least once every fifteen minutes? "Zak was my brother," snots Apollo. "And what was he to me?" retorts Starbuck. "Nothing?" "Um, Jessie's girl?" offers Apollo. "Except, of course, that would be what you were to him, and besides, only the people who know that Rick Springfield played Zak in the original will get it, and now I've gone and over-explained the whole thing and killed the joke. Sorry." He does, however, remain unrepentant in the face of her endless proselytizing for the Cult of Olmos, and Starbuck ends the scene by threatening to fist…er, "strike another superior asshole." Bamp chicka bamp bamp.
Caprica. Number Six has made herself at home in Baltar's condo, and then the camera spins around to reveal Baltar himself, asleep in bed next to some random ho. Six wakes them up, and totally ignores Baltar's sleazy attempts at explanation. She twice orders the hussy to "get out," but fails both times to add the simple "now" that would have guaranteed this mini-series an A+ grade. Oh, Ron. Have you learned nothing from our time together? Once the bimbo is gone, Baltar climbs out of bed and goes into full-on weasel mode. He also slips on sweatpants and a robe to do it, for which I'm eternally grateful (StR = 2,172, but I'm adding an arbitrary 500-point penalty for the "Get out. Now." thing). He tries to tell her that he's just can't help himself, but Number Six isn't interested in excuses. In fact, she doesn't really seem to be interested in anything at all, because the writers have nothing for her to say here and the scene just ends on a weird close-up of her nostrils. The hell?
Back on the Galactica, Apollo arrives for a photo-op with his dad in a display of utterly over-the-top religious imagery that would have embarrassed even Brother Justin. I'm not kidding, either. He's lit from above with a shaft of heavenly light, and the choir of angels…er, "reporters" parts like the Red Sea to let him through. Poor Man's Kevin Spacey is running the show here, and he's just as adorably unctuous as always. I love this guy. He makes Dad and Apollo stand side-by-side, and even -- gasp -- put their arms around each other. Once the paparazzi are satiated, PMKS leads them away, and it's time for the father/son chat I've been dreading since this plotline started. It's every bit as annoying as you'd expect, and whichever hairdresser decided to give Apollo that pseudo-pompadour he's sporting made a serious mistake. He looks like a smug version of the Shonee's boy. Anyway, blah blah blah, Apollo blames Dad for Rick Springfield's death, and Dad is surprised to hear that Mom is getting married again. Whatever. You can, however, check "Zak was a bad pilot, and Dad pulled strings to get him through flight school" off your exposition checklist. Apollo rants, Olmos kicks him out, and then another weird nostril shot takes us to commercial.
Baltar Estates. Number Six has apparently confessed to being a Cylon off-camera, because why would you want to show the audience a big dramatic moment like that? Baltar has a hard time believing she's a robot, because while he may be a traitorous philanderer who fucks baby-killers and random streetwalkers, you'd damn well better believe he'd never stick his dick in a "chrome toaster." Except he so totally would, especially if he could light a cigarette off the hot coils when he was done. He asks her to "prove it," which would have been a nice callback to the opening scene if I hadn't been distracted by the toaster sex imagery, and she replies that she doesn't have to, because it flatters his ego to believe that he's the one human out of billions that the Cylons picked for her mission. It's at this point that Baltar remembers that he gave her full access to the defense mainframe, and he finally begins to understand the he's up Caprica creek without a robo-paddle. He tries to rationalize his way out of the situation, and even goes so far as to pick up the phone to call his lawyer. "That won't be necessary," says Number Six. "It won't be necessary, because in a few hours no one will be left to charge you with anything. Humanity's children are returning home. Today." And just as she finishes this little announcement, a flash of nuclear light on the horizon tells us the war has finally begun. Thank God. I thought it would never get here.
I just want to stop here, by the way, and mention that I think making the Cylons a human creation was definitely a mistake. I mean, I see where they were going with wanting to give the bad guys a motive that's fraught with dramatic tension and whatnot, but the fact that the Cylons had no motive was one of the things I actually liked about the original. All that really mattered back then was that they wanted to wipe out humanity. Reasons weren't important. And at its core, Battlestar Galactica is supposed to be about a rag-tag fugitive fleet on a lonely quest for a shining planet known as Earth. It's not about humanity's comeuppance for our arrogance, or even about how the war started in the first place. It's about the journey, and mankind's last great struggle for survival, and that's what this mini-series is missing in spades. Maybe it'll be different once the series starts, but now that I've seen one naked and listened to her whine about God and being "alive" and all that crap, I'm just not as scared of the Cylons as I used to be. Oh, well. Maybe they'll get it right in 2028.
Galactica. The venerable old MS X-Files Sans Serif font informs us that we're in the Starboard Landing Bay, where the decommissioning ceremony is about to take place. The Vipers (both new and old) do their fly-by, accompanied by trumpets blowing the original show's theme as a fanfare. Aww. At least that one was kind of sweet. But not sweet enough to stop me from asking what kind of an idiot spaceship designer would build a landing bay with a roof made totally out of glass. Do we not have asteroids in the future? It's especially stupid when you remember that the landing pods are retracted into the ship most of the time, so you wouldn't even be able to see outside. Whatever.
PMKS introduces Commander Adama, who is there to deliver his farewell speech. The applause from the audience, however, is surprisingly light when Olmos's name gets called. The Teamsters with the whips must have had the afternoon off or something. After blatantly ripping off Winston Churchill (which is made all the more surprising by the fact that no one is supposed to know where Earth is), Adama stops to think about Zak, and loses his place. Everyone stares at him as he stands there silently, but you know no one has the balls to say anything about it, so they just wait until he rallies and finishes the speech in an oddly chosen extreme close-up. His whole point here is that maybe we shouldn't be fighting the Cylons (even though, as far as he knows, we're not at the moment), because human beings aren't worth saving. "We still commit murder," he preaches, "because of greed, and spite, and jealousy. And we still visit all of our sins upon our children." Um, I think Ron Moore might have gotten a few script pages mixed up in his briefcase on that one. It sounds like something Brother Justin would say. Apollo, meanwhile, listens to the speech over the radio in his Viper, and Starbuck is also listening down in the brig. "Sooner or later," Adama concludes, "the day comes when you can no longer hide from the things that you've done." This makes him sound like a serial killer or something, and that may explain why Mary McDonnell was the only one who applauded. I'm betting she just slept through the whole thing and has no idea why she's clapping. There's just something about a Sci-Fi Network mini-series that makes big-name actors feel the need to sleepwalk. Then again, they seem to have that effect on recappers, as well.
After the ceremony concludes, Apollo pulls escort duty for Mary's passenger liner. He's supposed to follow them back to Caprica, although it's best for everyone if you don't ask why. Just know that it's an essential plot point, and move on. Ever conscious of her desire for a promotion, Boomer takes this one last opportunity to kiss some Adama ass by telling Apollo it was an honor to fly with him. She does not, however, say anything about his gimbal.
This brings us straight into our long-awaited "end of the world" montage. Mary looks pensive in her seat in the passenger liner's first-class section. Baltar looks sad sitting in his condominium. He's watching TV, and the split screen features two newscasters talking over one another about the explosions that have just started going off. Suddenly, the left screen fades to snow, and then a few seconds later the blast wave hits the reporter on the right, and that signal drops out as well. Nicely done. This show does at least deserve credit for being one of the most tasteful portrayals of nuclear war you're likely to ever see. "What have I done?" moans Baltar. Number Six, meanwhile, has used the apocalypse as an excuse for a costume change, and she's now added some sequins to her otherwise see-through ensemble. It's good to know that Cher is still alive and setting fashion trends in the future. Because I'm sure we were all so worried. Baltar demands to know what her escape plan is, because he can't imagine that she'd be willing to just stay on Caprica and get blown up. Just as he says it, however, another flash of light is visible on the horizon, and he cringes with despair. Six ignores the blast, and explains that as soon as she dies, her consciousness will just be transferred to a different body, and she'll wake up somewhere else. "You mean there's more like you?" Baltar asks. "There are twelve models," she answers. "I'm Number Six." Well, at least we got that cleared up. Baltar cries like a little girl, and then the blast wave from that explosion we just saw rips through the apartment and we fade to black.
Cut to space, where we see nukes exploding all across Caprica. Over on the Galactica, Olmos is relaxing in his quarters when he gets a call from Commodore 64. It seems they've just received a message from headquarters, transmitted in the clear: "Attention all Colonial units, Cylon attack underway. This is no drill." Adama says he'll be right there, but apparently his idea of "right away" includes a lengthy pause for a word from our sponsors.
We come back to see Colonel McCain lying on his bed and using a cigar to burn a hole in a picture of his ex-wife. Contrary to forum opinion, the woman in the photo is not Number Six, but she does sort of look like her, so I can understand the mistake. Suddenly, alarms and klaxons and sirens and other things that make loud screechy noises start blaring, and we cut around to see everyone on the ship racing to their stations. Adama finally makes it down to the bridge, where he's joined by Colonel McCain. McCain thinks it's all some sort of retirement prank that headquarters is playing on them, but Commodore 64 insists it's the real deal. Adama gets on the loudspeaker, and finally gets to deliver the big hero speech that's probably the only thing that sold Olmos on the original script. Well, that and the promise of an actual paycheck, I suppose. He informs the crew about the massive assault on Caprica and the other colonies. "How, why, don't really matter right now," he pontificates. "What does matter is that I get my contractually-obligated glamour shot, which is why I'm going to stare right into Camera One and say, 'As of this moment, we. Are. At. War!'" But then he can't resist going a little porno on our asses, and he concludes the big speech by saying, "Stand to your duties, and trust your fellow shipmates, and we'll all get through this." Yeah. What kind of movie is this again?
Down in the hangar, Master Chief Lovewrench rallies his own troops. "We're the best," he shouts, "so let's get the old girl ready to roll and kick some Cylon ass. And then we'll kick them in the gimbals, too, just for good measure." Back on the bridge, Adama orders Colonel McCain to go find some ammunition, because they don't actually have any on board at the moment. He also wants a position check on all the fighters from the fly-by, and he further orders that Starbuck be released from the brig.
It turns out the fighters in question are "two hours from Caprica," if the MS X-Files font is to be believed. They've also picked up incoming Cylons. Boomer is panicking, because she flies a scout ship instead of a Viper, and Sergeant Sacrificial Stan has to calm her down as he tracks the five inbound fighters. Meanwhile, on Galactica, Starbuck has reported to the bridge, where Adama takes time out of his busy war-fighting and accolade-accepting schedule to tell her that over thirty Battlestars have already been destroyed. He also needs more fighters and pilots to defend Galactica, but Starbuck says that even though they've got plenty of pilots, there aren't any fighters left on board for them to fly. Adama points out that there's an entire wing of old Vipers on display in the museum, and Starbuck immediately runs off to get them out of mothballs.
Cut to Master Chief Lovewrench, joining Starbuck in the museum. He can get the fighters flying, but there's just one problem: The landing bay has been converted into a gift shop. Oops. The solution? They're going to push the Vipers over to the port-side bay. Damn. That can't be fun, especially when you consider that Vipers have pads instead of wheels.
Up on the bridge, Ensign Uhura hands Commodore 64 one of those omnipresent octagonal report forms that says that all the ships in the fleet have been experiencing strange malfunctions just prior to Cylon attacks. She thinks it looks suspicious. He's still locked in an if-then statement.
Sergeant Sacrificial Stan, however, has chopped the number of incoming Cylons down from five to two. The Vipers move en masse in to take them out, because it's perfectly sound military strategy to send an entire squadron after two lone stragglers when you're still two hours away from a planet that's being mercilessly bombarded with nuclear weapons. They chatter amongst themselves about how the old Cylon fighters looked like flying wings, but Wedge comes on the radio to order them all to shut up. Eventually the Cylons do appear, coming out of the sun, and the new ships looks like an unholy alliance between the Bat-plane and a Klingon Bird of Prey. The Cylon fighters open a slot on their front side, and the red light pulses across the entire opening. Heh. Plus, the light actually serves a practical purpose now, because it somehow shuts down all the Vipers and leaves them drifting in space. As a nod towards physical accuracy, all of the sound effects in outer space are muted, because there is no sound in space. That attention to detail, however, obviously doesn't extend to the laws of inertia, because even though the Vipers were in perfect formation when they shut down, they still somehow manage to end up drifting into each other like they're caught in a giant game of pachinko. Flight Leader Antilles calls out to Biggs and Gold Leader, but no one is answering because their radios have been shut down as well. Despite the fact that the Cylon fighters are still hundreds of miles away, and the fact that they do indeed appear to have some form of a cockpit, Biggs is able to ascertain that no one is actually flying them, solely because the writers thought it would be cool if the fighters themselves were giant robots, but didn't have a good way to work that little detail into the script. In any event, the Cylons launch a bunch of missiles and blow everyone up. Boomer panics again and tries to fly away, and the Cylons chase her right into a commercial.
When we come back, Mary McDonnell is again in the bathroom on the SS Hindenbreast. There's no time for a quick grope, however, because she has to head back to the main cabin in order to hear the Captain make an announcement about the attack on Caprica. Up in the cockpit, the Captain shuts off the intercom, and switches over to the radio so he can thank Apollo for giving them an escort. Apollo rags on Daddy's old fighter, but does promise to do whatever he can.
Back to Boomer. The Cylons are still chasing her, and they've fired some more missiles. She manages to fake one out with a decoy drone, but another is still on their tail. She launches a second drone, but the missile is too close, and they end up taking damage from the explosion. Sacrificial Stan is wounded, but he still manages to seal an air leak in the floor with a handy nearby suction cup. Heh. Boomer decides to power down their ship, because they're already headed towards Caprica and she figures they can just drift the rest of the way while the Cylons think they're dead. Yeah. I wouldn't count on it, Boomer. With what we've seen so far, you're more likely to end up drifting into LV-426. They drift silently through space, passing a shattered Battlestar as nuclear explosions ripple across the surface of Caprica below. For some reason, the nukes are even going off in the middle of the ocean. I don't know what's up with that.
Galactica. Olmos is hogging the loudspeaker again, and telling the crew that Caprica City has been nuked into oblivion along with the rest of the colonies. Everyone listens, frozen in place. Finally, Corporal Dirty Girl turns to Starbuck, and asks how many people lived in Caprica City. "Seven million," is the answer, and then Olmos takes over again: "Mourn the dead later. Right now, the best thing we can do is get this ship into the fight."
The HMS Titanic. Mary heads to the cockpit, and confirms with the pilot that Caprica City has gone bye-bye. He hands her an octagonal print-out with the news, and she actually has to hold his hand to stop it from shaking. Oh, yeah. That's the guy I want flying my plane. She tells him that she should be the one to announce this to the passengers, because she's a member of the government and it's her responsibility. You know, because the politicians are totally who people are going to want to hear from right now.
Predictably, the passengers freak out when she tells them. She tries to keep everyone calm, and starts ordering people to prepare for an extended stay on board the ship. Poor Man's Kevin Spacey, however, wants to know who died and made her the boss. Well, everyone, actually, but we don't know that yet. She sends him down to the cargo hold to make a living space, and it's at this point that I finally noticed that PMKS only has two jackets: one red and one green. There's probably some kind of significance attached to which he chooses to wear at any given moment, but I haven't been able to crack the code yet. Mary also stops to check in with Lackey Howser, who reports that his entire family lived in Caprica City, and are now just radioactive dust, blowing in a CGI wind. The Captain pops his head in to announce that he's set up a communications link for Mary to talk with the government, and she gives Lackey Howser an incredibly patronizing "buck up, little camper" nudge before heading back to the cockpit.
Once there, she discovers that no one even knows if the President is still alive. She's also told that the Cylons have made no demands, and didn't even respond to an offer of unconditional surrender. Then the Captain suddenly gets a message that a Cylon missile is approaching, and Apollo breaks off to try and shoot it down. He's successful in that effort, largely because the laws of inertia have suddenly been turned back on, and he's able to slew his Viper around and fly backwards while he targets the missile. It does, however, damage Daddy's Viper, and he's forced to land back on the Titanic and hope that he's not going to get grounded for wrecking the family car.
And then, down on Caprica itself, Boomer and Sacrificial Stan have made a safe landing. They're in a field, with huge, towering mushroom clouds surrounding them on all sides. It's a nice effect, and Stan can't help but stare at it as he counts the explosions. Boomer, meanwhile, is under their fighter, fixing a leaky fuel line. There's nothing sexier than a cute girl with a wrench in her hand. As long as it's not Lovewrench, of course. Stan suddenly notices something on the horizon, and he frantically orders Boomer to get out her sidearm. She does so, and then we finally pan over to see a horde of extras fleeing across the fields towards their ship. Stan and Boomer look scared, and then we go to commercial.
The SS Lusititia. Apollo is climbing out of his Viper, which he's somehow managed to park in a cargo bay that has no visible access to the outside, and PMKS is there to act obsequious and beg him to take command over Mary McDonnell. Apollo, however, notices that the cargo bay also contains a pair of "electric pulse generators" from the Galactica, thereby proving the old theatrical aphorism that an electric pulse generator shown in Act Seven must go off in Act Nine. He then heads upstairs to find Mary, who's wrapped in a blanket and reviewing various interior design concepts for converting the maintenance bay into string of nice two-bedroom apartments. Poor Man's Kevin Spacey wants to run away as fast as the Lusititia can carry them, but Mary's plan is to round up all the survivors who are trapped in orbit and then have Apollo lead them to a safe place. Apollo thinks this is a good idea, probably because his dad didn't think of it, and so he informs PMKS that Mary is still in charge.
Caprica. Various extras in the mob try to bribe Boomer and Stan for safe passage, and Boomer is forced to fire her pistol into the air a few times to get them to shut up. I'm not sure why they chose to issue her a watered-down flare gun instead of a real pistol, but I guess it's safe to say that in the future, guns don't kill people, toasters do. She announces that there's only limited space on board the ship, so they can only take the children. You know, because nothing makes a major military operation run smoothly like the presence of a half-dozen adorable moppets. Or maybe it's just because kids Boxey's age like to buy action figures. Once the kids are rounded up, there are still three spaces available, so Boomer announces that they'll all draw numbers out of a hat. Oh, sure. There's plenty of time for that, right? What with the huge mushroom clouds, the constant threat of Cylon attack, the radiation, and the psychotic mob and all. Why wouldn't you take the time to write down hundreds of different numbers, rip them up into little strips of paper, put them un an unused helmet, have every single person present pick one, spend three hours arguing over what order they're going pick, and then randomly select three winners? That makes perfect sense. Boomer does still looks cute when she says it, though. What can I say? I'm easy.
Galactica. They get a report of inbound Cylon fighters, and Adama orders the Vipers to be launched in such a dead and lifeless tone that I halfway expected Commodore 64 to ask if he wanted fries with that. A bunch of Vipers do launch, but Starbuck is experiencing mechanical problems, so she's forced to stay behind while Corporal Dirty Girl and Private First Class Soon To Be Dead Guy frantically work to fix it. Dirty Girl wants to just pull the broken valve, but Soon To Be Dead Guy insists that the whole thing will explode if they do. Which is why you should always be nice to your mechanic. Although in Starbuck's case, I'm willing to make an exception. They do eventually pull the valve, and Starbuck finally gets underway.
On the bridge, Adama is giving steering commands as they try to avoid the incoming fighters. There's lots of "all ahead fulls" and "bow up three degreeses" and other belabored nautical references, and then we cut back to the battle outside the ship. We learn that the old-school Vipers are immune to the Cylon's red eye of death, and Starbuck manages to shoot down all but one of the incoming fighters.
That's when Ensign Uhura sounds the radiological alarm, as the Cylons have launched three nuclear missiles at Galactica. Starbuck gets two, but the third slips past and heads in for impact. "Brace for contact, my friend," advises Adama. "I haven't heard that in a while," replies Colonel McCain, which probably explains the sorry state of his marriage. The nuke hits Galactica just above the port landing pod, and the blast subatomically fuses the notion that if someone from Star Trek is involved with your production, you can be pretty sure that the actors will have to spend significant time flinging themselves around the bridge set at least twice in every episode. Fade to white.
Commercial. Gee, do you think the Galactica was really destroyed? Also, is the Sci-Fi channel doing Real Sex now? What's up with this Mad, Mad House show? I guess they had to replace Lexx somehow.
When we come back, Starbuck is doing a fly-by. She reports major damage and some venting from the landing pod, but otherwise the hull plating saved them. On the bridge, Commodore 64 delivers the following clunker of a line without missing a single beat: "Sir, port stern thrusters are locked open, all bow thrusters non-responsive. We're in an uncontrolled lateral counterclockwise spin." Damn, that guy can exposit! The upshot of all the damage reports is that she ship is decompressing on the port side. Adama orders McCain to fix the problem, and then goes off to deal with whatever could possibly be more important than his entire ship falling apart.
Down in the landing bay itself, the hangar crew is trying to evacuate. Private First Class Soon To Be Dead Guy calls in a report to Master Chief Lovewrench, who is up on the bridge for some unexplained reason. Lovewrench looks to Colonel McCain for orders, but the colonel freezes so that we'll all remember he's an alcoholic. Finally he orders Master Chief Lovewrench to vent the entire landing bay, which will put out the fires and stop the decompression, but also kill anyone who may be trapped in there. Lovewrench begs for a few extra minutes to get his people out, but McCain wants instant action. He strides over to the control panel, inserts his key into the decompression slot, and turns it to complete the venting. I suppose the key thing makes for a nice safety feature to prevent an accidental activation, but it seems kind of balky for something you'd want to be able to do quickly in an emergency. In any event, the landing pod decompresses, lots of people die, and everyone looks sad. Farewell, Private First Class Soon To Be Dead Guy. You totally should have kissed Dirty Girl when you had the chance. She was into you, my friend.
Caprica. Boomer is STILL pulling numbers out of her helmet, while the mob that was ready to lynch her in the last scene just waits patiently. What. Ever. It goes without saying that one of the lottery winners is the only hot girl in the crowd, although I probably should mention that Baltar is hiding out on the fringes of the group. And, of course, the blind old lady next to him is the one with the last winning ticket. He contemplates stealing it for himself, but before he can, Sergeant Sacrificial Stan recognizes him, and finally lives up to his nickname by offering to give up his seat to someone he describes as "one of the greatest minds of our times." Oy. Baltar climbs on board the ship, and looks back to see Number Six standing in the crowd. When we pan back, however, she's gone. That'll be important for Part Two. Boomer gets ready to take off, and Boxey happily calls shotgun while the rest of the civilians stretch out in the back. The ship lifts off, and after Stan uses his flare gun on some guy stupid enough to try and catch a ride on the wing, he's left behind in the swirling dust for a tearful farewell shot. So long, Stan. You were one-dimensional and stupid to the end, but you fulfilled your plot purpose, and that's a better fate than anyone has a right to expect at this point.
The SS Edmund Herbreastserus. Apollo and Mary are in the cockpit, listening to a recording that tells them that the government has declared "Case Orange." That's only moderately different from the current government's Case Orange, because here it means that the President and Vice-President are already dead. Mary asks the Captain to transmit her ID number to some computer somewhere, which will tell her who's still alive and who's now in charge. Instead of waiting to find out, however, Mary heads back to her seat, where she's soon joined by Apollo. She tells him that she's forty-third in the line of succession, and then babbles interminably about how she knows the other forty-two, and how they've all been working for the President since he was the Mayor and blah blah zzzzzzzz. Whatever. She hates politics! She's really a good guy! Do you get it? Do you? The Captain comes back, and to absolutely no one's surprise, Mary is officially the new president. Yeah, right. Baltar survived because he was at his cabin in the woods, but no one else involved with the government was on vacation? "We'll need a priest," announces Mary.
But sadly, she'll just have to settle for a lady in a goofy robe. Mary gets sworn in as the new president, and it's all very LBJ on the plane to Dallas. Part of the oath of office, incidentally, includes the phrase "with every fiber in my being." Yeah. I don't ever want to live in a country that makes its President swear on the word "fiber." If you're interested, the entire oath contains the words "avow," "affirm," "Kobol," "colonies," "fiber," "being," and "sovereignty." I'm moving to Canada.
Commercial.
We come back to the sight of a bunch of badly burned bodies being removed from the Galactica's landing bay. Master Chief Lovewrench checks the damage while Colonel McCain tells Adama that eighty-five people died. He also tells him that he found the ammunition they'll need at a place called the "Ragnar Anchorage." Corporal Dirty Girl, meanwhile, holds the charred remains of Private First Class Now Officially Dead Guy, and cries for her lost chance at love. Aww. Don't cry, Dirty Girl. I know the perfect guy for you!
After seeing her dismay, Master Chief Lovewrench runs off to bitch to Commander Adama that McCain killed all those people needlessly. He also calls the colonel a "son of a bitch." Ooh! Them's fighting words. Adama, however, backs his XO to the hilt, and says that he would have made the exact same decision. Lovewrench accepts this, because Olmos is never, ever wrong, and once he leaves, McCain comes back over to announce that they can't fly to Ragnar because it's too far away. Adama wants to make a Faster Than Light jump (heretofore known as "FTL"), but McCain points out that they haven't done one of those in twenty-two years. Actually, it's twenty-five, but why nitpick? Olmos orders him to plot the course anyway, and then Ensign Uhura comes over and tearfully informs them that every other Battlestar in the fleet has been destroyed. "Send a message," barks Adama. "I'm taking command of the fleet." Dun dun DUH!
The Hindenbreast. Except now it's officially "Colonial One," so I can dispense with the mammary nicknames. They're busy docking with all the stranded ships, but up in the cockpit, Apollo is getting an octagram from Dad. He wants everyone to regroup at Ragnar, but Mary refuses to leave until they've found all the survivors. She also wants Galactica to come help them out. Apollo informs her that The Olmos isn't going to like that idea, so she plays her new President card and makes it an order. Than Apollo feels compelled to inform her that he's actually Adama's son, but she already knew that. "Captain Apollo has nice ring to it, don't you think?" she asks. Sure it does. Just ask Richard Hatch, who's probably pissed that he's not even the most famous Richard Hatch anymore.
Back on Galactica, Olmos reads an octagram of his own. Much as Apollo predicted, he's not happy with the whole "rescue the survivors" plan, and he orders Uhura to get them on the horn. He has a surprisingly business-like discussion with his son, considering the situation, although he does manage to slam Mary for being unprepared for battle just as she comes into the cockpit to overhear it. Ain't that always the way? The conversation is suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a Cylon fighter that's menacing Colonial One. Apollo wants to make an immediate FTL jump, but Mary flat-out refuses, despite the fact that they have no way to defend themselves. Then Apollo remembers something, and races out of the cockpit.
And then we cut back to Galactica, where everyone is tracking the inbound Cylon on the radar screen. Adama tries futilely to warn his son, but Apollo is already down in the cargo bay messing with those "electrical pulse generators" like we all knew he would be. Adama stares at the radar screen in horror as the fighter closes in, and then Colonial One is wiped out by a haze of static. Everyone looks sad, because their favorite boss just lost his only remaining son, but you totally can tell they're also secretly happy, because Apollo was a prick and maybe Olmos will adopt one of them now and they can all live happily ever after in Adamaville. Or something like that. Colonel McCain offers the boss a manly hug, and Commodore 64 makes an ill-timed expositional foray by specifying that Colonial One was destroyed by a fifty-kiloton explosion. And with that, we finally fade to black on the end of Part One.
And just for the record, anyone who actually thinks Apollo is dead isn't allowed to read the Part Two recap. Don't think I won't be checking.