"Tigh! You fracking dumbass! I'm not a fracking Cylon! Frack you!" Starbuck screamed from behind the cell bars.
"Shut the frack up. Mind your rank," snapped Tigh as he approached the cell with a specialist and two soldiers in tow.
Kara "Starbuck" Thrace in the Brig
"Sir," Starbuck stood up at attention, her training overcoming her rage.
"I don't trust that Baltar guy even though every fracking one seems to worship the ground he fracking walks on. Test her."
The specialist approaches Starbuck hesitatingly. Starbuck, suddenly calm, stuck her arm through the bars.
The needle went in. As Tigh expected -- as he hoped -- it read NEGATIVE.
"Let her out. And arrest Baltar immediately."
The battlestar was in chaos as Tigh's men searched the ship. Baltar was nowhere to be found.
"He must be here, somewhere, damn it" raged Tigh over the transceivers.
The former President of the Twelve Colonies strode into the CIC. Even though Roslin is no longer the president, she still radiated authority. The CIC fell into silent as she approached XO Tigh.
"You cannot continue like this. We will not survive."
"You don't tell me what to do. I declared martial law, and I am now in control, not you or that pathetic little government you called yourself the president of. Is that all you came to say? You wasted your --"
"Baltar is on the Colonial One. I will not allow you to kill him, despite his apparent betrayal."
Colonial One
"You -- you fracking bitch. Take this fracking traitor to the brig!" When the guards hesitated, he screamed, "NOW!"
As the silent former president walked out of the CIC followed by two guards, Tigh turned to the display. "Send two vipers out there.
Eliminate the Colonial One," Tigh commanded into the transceiver.
The CIC went into a stunned silence.
"But you can't do that, There's other civilians aboard that ship!"
"I don't give a ****. Baltar will not escape justice for betraying the human race!"
"We refuse to obey that order," came a voice from the speaker. "I am the CAG and my pilots stand with me. We will not attack a civilian ship."
"You -- I command --" Tigh looked around the CIC, at the stunned and defiant eyes. He knew that at this moment he is no longer in command.
"Fine. I resign my rank. You do what you want," Tigh stormed out of the CIC, the silence of failure following him.
Alcohol is an escape. It has always been.
Tigh stared at the bottle of vodka sitting on the table in the front of him.
He keeps falling back into it. Really, he has never left alcohol's embrace, even though he fooled himself into believing that for a time.
Tigh grabbed the bottle and took a long gulp.
Go on, ethanol. Wash it all way.
Another gulp.
As Saul Tigh fell into the depths of his self-failure, a quiet, commanding voice came through the door.
"What is happening on my ship?"
Sythas has been killed and is human. It is now NIGHT.