-= Lords of Kobol - FBK =- www.pchq.fr & www.sous-titres.eu
Come on, milk run. I said I didn't want to drive a bus,
now he's gonna me driving a frakking delivery truck.
Yeah, only thing better is if they could make it a regular trip,
say for the next month or so.
- You're really getting out? - Like a shot, kid.
And go back to what? Where?
Who cares? As long as it's far away from here.
Excuse me, Captain?
Captain Tornvald? Sir?
I just wanted to say
I've been following your record since you first joined the Squadron.
Someday I hope to be half the pilot you are.
I'll let you in on a little secret, kid.
It's bullshit. All of it.
Awesome.
And then,
I think he's gonna bust us and he says:
You know what? I'm gonna send you on a godamn milk run.
That's it. We're going out. Two days out, two days back.
- You gonna lay over? - Hell yeah.
They got real booze over there. None of this watered-down pruno.
Sounds like you two have booked a bona fide pleasure cruise.
Yeah, tell that to young, dumb, itching to get his ass shot off over there
he's still crying his eyes out.
What do you expect, Coker?
Our young thane wants to make a name for himself.
Isn't it why we're here? Kill the enemy?
Destroy the frakking machines before they destroy us.
Kid, we all know why we're here.
Don't be in such a rush, okay?
I think that's my towel.
See anything you like, rook?
- Hydraulic reservoir? - Full. Cap secure.
Front dradis antenna?
Almost.
Ha'la'tha?
My dad's a lawyer.
Yeah? Mob lawyer?
Defense attorney.
- What's it to you? - I'm just saying.
That could have rangled a pass on this old frak ass is pretty easy.
Is that what you would have done?
- Find a way out of the war? - Nobody gave me a choice.
- What the hell is this? - Your ordnance package.
- What's it look like? - It looks a little light to me.
I see a full set of com drones, missile decoys,
- and what, 2 Archers? - We're short on air-to-airs.
Ordnance Chief says two. You got a problem, take it up with him.
I'll take it up with him.
I'm more concerned with our cargo. Can you give us an exact weight?
Why don't you ask it yourself.
She's our cargo?
- We already met. Right? In the... - In the shower.
You're a pilot?
Civilian. I'm a software engineer.
Bill Adama. Pilot.
Nice to meet you.
Welcome aboard, anyway. Like I said I'm your pilot.
This is my co-pilot and ECO, lieutenant...
Fasjo...
Coker is fine.
You look kinda young for a pilot, are you any good?
- So they tell me. - You believe everything they tell you?
Why don't we get going?
Assuming this piece of shit can actually fly.
Raptor 9-0-9
you're clear for departure.
Good afternoon,
this is your captain Bill Adama.
Our flight time to Scorpion is approximately two days,
during which we hope to encounter absolutely nothing.
Fortunately, you'll find a wide range
of fine Holoband entertainments to help you pass the time.
For now, please remain seated
with your seatbelt fastened and thank you once again
for flying Wild Weasel airlines.
- Like that? - Lovely.
You're wasting your charms, such as they are.
- I know her type. - What type is that?
As far as she's concerned, we're just the hired help. Oh hello.
Are we still in Dradis range of Galactica?
Good.
If you'll open this, you'll find a new set of orders.
Give me that.
- What the hell is this? - Open it and you'll find out.
- These are from the Admiralty. - As you can see,
it specifies a new set of coordinates
for a rendezvous with the heavy cruiser Archeron.
No, that's two days in the wrong direction.
That is sector 12. Right on the edge of Cylon controlled space.
No way we're gonna make it alive.
No frakking way. I'm calling Galactica.
- No, you're not. - Excuse me?
The orders specify wireless silence.
That means no contact with Galactica or any other Colonial ship or outpost.
It also states you are both to follow my orders.
So, let's get started. We have a lot of space to cover.
- What are you grinning at? - "Milk run."
Milk run, my ass.
Dammit!
You're having trouble with your band?
Let me have a look.
You know how to fix them?
I used to work for the company that designed them.
You worked for Graystone Industries?
I worked on Cylons.
I designed the upgrade on their MCP chips.
- That's their... - Their brain, I know.
In other words, you helped improve the machines that are killing us.
Better get up here.
We're approaching the rendezvous coordinates.
Husker!
- Dradis? - Clear.
Here we go.
Colonial transponder. Good.
Hold on.
- I'm reading multiple signatures. - Maybe Archeron have support ships.
Where the hell are their transponders?
- Something wrong with this picture. - Break radio silence and hail them.
Archeron,
this is Raptor 9-0-9. Acknowledge and respond.
Try again.
Archeron, this is Raptor 9-0-9. Acknowledge and respond.
Gods!
Is that Archeron?
Got your answer?
Get back there and sit down, strap yourself in.
Now!
This is unbelievable.
Must've been an ambush.
Nobody could have survived this.
Three enemy contact. Incoming.
Got one Raider inbound on our starboard side.
- Visual. Where are the other two? - I don't know.
Targeting.
Dammit.
Auto-targeting isn't responding.
Can you get the helmets please?
- Switching to manual. - We must not engage the enemy!
The godsdamn enemy engaged us We can't outrun 'em with this bird!
Come on!
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