Battlestar Galactica: Blood & Chrome

Dear dad,

you questioned whether it's my responsibility to join this fight.

The truth is

we all became responsible the day we created the cylons.

We're the one who let these robots become our servants,

our trusted helpers, and even our friends.

We let them into our lives only to see them repay our trust

with a violent revolt against us.

I know there is a lot of debate about why they hate us.

But in the end,

Does it really matter?

Kill the enemy or be killed.

That's the reality.

In a war where mankind very survival hangs in the balance,

it's up to each of us to make a difference.

Being a pilot is the best way I know how to do that.

Your loving son,

William Adama.

Hold still, you Toaster bastard.

Watch out, Hot shot.

You've got a bandit on your six.

That's fine, just add to the challenge.

Come on, Kid. Break off! Break off!

No way, I got this.

Come on, come on, come on.

Frak, I can't...

I can't see!

You've got no visibility, Kid. Get out of there.

Watch you back, Kid. It's coming around again.

There we go. Much better.

What are you crazy? Return to base!

You can't take that kind of radiation exposure

You'd die in less than 30 sec.

20 sec and counting!

You're approaching radiation exposure max.

Frak, my gun is jammed!

- You only have 12 sec left! - Frak that!

Okay. Game over.

Are you crazy, you can't fire...

Deal with it, suckers!

- Come on, tell me that ain't no record. - Congratulation captain,

You have completed level six.

Good sim score?

Oh, no. Not a good sim score. The top sim score.

- I'm impressed. - Thanks.

I'd be if I were you.

Lookout Jay, we've got a live one.

Let me guess.

You've been itching to fly a Viper since you were in short pants

You worry that the war will be over before you can prove what ace you are.

Congratulations, you got me pegged.

Except for the worrying part.

I don't do that.

Look at the pair on you.

Was that a request?

No don't get your hopes up, rook. You're not my type.

Good so it's a date.

Town boy!

- You are a real charger, ain't you? - Thank you.

If you're looking for some action,

there's a girl who's gonna give it to you.

Gods damn...

- Yo rook, you're blocking traffic. - I'm sorry.

That's Deke Tornvald. The "Minute Man."

- You heard of him, huh? - Heard of him?

He was my hero at the Academy. He got 30 kills?

You'd better hurry or there won't be any left for you, ace.

Look out!

Back just in time.

Suit up! Briefing in 30.

Another snowball patrol?

What's this, fresh meat?

Ensign William Adama, reporting for flight duty, sir.

If there's a mission, I'd like to be part of it.

Papers.

At ease.

You're F.O.B., Ensign. Sure you don't want to find your rack first?

Respectfully, sir, I signed on to kill Toasters, not take naps.

Just point me at my plane and I'll get started.

All right, Ensign, I'm assigning you to the Weasel. She's over there.

- She's beautiful, sir. - Not the Viper.

The bird behind her.

That old flying pillbox, sir?

It's a Raptor. That's a designation you're qualified.

Sir, there has to be some kind of mistake.

Respectfully, sir, I didn't rate top of my class so I could drive a bus.

- I'm a Viper pilot. - Congratulations!