MONDO EXTRAS

Drop The Pilot

by Jacob Clifton November 2, 2009
The Plan

"This is all improv, isn't it? You're scared, you're outmanned. You're surrounded by humans who weren't supposed to be alive in the first place." The Plan was that there wasn't a plan that didn't immediately fall to pieces. "No one was supposed to be alive!" One shouted, pacing like a tiger. "Our people were supposed to be positioned to cause destruction, not mop up afterwards! My Two was the Defense Minister's yoga instructor, if you can believe that, and one of the Sixes was a prostitute. But the only one in a position to do any frakking damage was a Five on this ship, and he frakked it up! Now the universe still has these cockroaches in it, and we can't have any peace until we step on them all." One laughed to himself, choking on it. "And don't you think for a moment that I'm gonna be moved by the sweet, adorable fact that you married one of them. You come back tomorrow, and we'll talk about you blowing up that ship you live on."

Day 24, Shelly Godfrey was finally in position, shouting at Gaius while Bill stood by, watching carefully, speaking only the truth. "You're the one who let the Cylons into the defense mainframe. You betrayed your Colony, your home, your entire race!" Gaius stared her down; she had tears in her eyes. She wasn't really talking about him anymore. "You're the man responsible for the Holocaust, and I'm here to see that you're exposed and sentenced to death as the traitor you really are." She produced a disc containing a photo of Gaius, sneaking into the mainframe. He leaned closer, nervous, investigating, but when she dropped the bomb -- "As you can see, the man in the photo is carrying an explosive device" -- he really started freaking out. She kept her back straight.

"I got you, Hot Dog! We're going to make it through this. Break right. Now! Now! Now!" Leoben listened to his little radio, smiling at her voice. On the wall of his little room, he painted them: Three concentric circles, red and yellow and blue.

"It's all right, Hot Dog. You did good. You're gonna be okay, I promise you. At least one of us will..." Leoben nodded to her, to himself, to God. He rewound the tape. He listened to the pilots, in the black.

"It's all right, Hot Dog. You did good. You're gonna be okay, I promise you. At least one of us will." He smiled. At least one of them. He smiled, at the stars.

On the mirror in Sharon's locker, someone had written the word, Cylon, in bright yellow paint. Eight brought the elephant to One in the chapel, as he lit his candles. He knew as well as she did that she was losing it. He knew as well as she did that the "someone" who wrote it -- as a warning, or a threat to pull off the last mission, or a caution against it -- was herself. "One old man," One whined, and Eight shrugged. "He's like a father to me." One nearly slapped her. "He is your father. All mankind are our fathers. And that's the sin for which they deserve to die."

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