In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description! Finished? Click here to close.
When last we met our Rag-Tag Fleet, they were in a standoff about the Temple of Five down on the Algae Planet, Boomer was taking pot-shots at Athena's living situation, and Three finally made her move to break up the Happy Threesome, heading down toward the Temple while Anders and Apollo squabbled over whether Starbuck was going to be killed by robots. This week⦠All those things are taken care of. It's pretty exciting and very well done, with some pretty high emotional points and an interesting start for this new chapter of the story. Lee calms Sam down about Kara by sending Dee (!) to save her. The only person less interested in this storyline than your average viewer. Of course she does it, because she's Dee, and somehow manages not to look like a total chump in the process, because she is Dee. Kara gets through the experience through massive amounts of drugs and getting slapped around, because she's Kara. Chief tries for a million years to figure out the mysterious Eye of Jupiter, but it is, of course, the supernova itself, which shows up just in time for everybody to get away safe. The Cylon party -- Three, Gaius, and Cavil all of a sudden -- gets control of the Temple for the second before it blows up, but it's a pretty big second: Cavil betrays Three, but Gaius shoots him dead before it gets too serious. But then she dies anyway, from Seeing the Face of God poisoning. When she resurrects, she's told that being a nutsack is not in the specs, and the Three model is boxed altogether. GONE. Making her like the Galileo or Socrates of Cylons, which is fucking rad. While she's getting that done to her, Chief pistol-whips Gaius and takes him back to Galactica for trial. Guess who else is heading there? Oh, Caprica Six. Guess why? Because Helo shot Athena to death after she ordered him to, so that she could resurrect on the baseship and get close to Hera. Roslin actually tries to bitch at him about this, and he almost eats her face off. Poor old Boomer is not feeling motherhood at all, and has managed to let Hera get pretty sick, in addition to making clear she's turned her back on humanity forever; she then threatens to snap the baby's neck, but gets her own neck snapped instead. By Caprica, who like invented neck-snapping in the first place. She helps Athena escape and they return to Galactica together. Hopefully, her friendship with this model Eight will turn out better than last time, when it resulted in humanity being put in a concentration camp. Goodbye, Three. I will always love you. week: Plus the Trial of Gaius Baltar begins, along with mysteries like: How come Kara was painting the Eye of Jupiter back in her old Caprican apartment? What will happen to Athena and Caprica? Will Lee and Dualla and Sam and Kara ever figure their stuff out? Will anyone ever care? Want more? The full recap starts right below!
An Eight, I believe and hope it's my Boomer, gives us the previouslies. There was a lot going on, at the end of 3.0, so let's review: Kat died getting us to the Algae Planet, where a Temple was found that seemed to have spiritual significance for both the Cylons and the Colonists. Isn't it weird when you find out the terrorists worship the same God you do? I hate thinking about that stuff, don't you? Lee and Kara were semi-cheating, which is to say they were cheating, but Kara wanted to go All the Way and Lee was all for getting a divorce, but Kara wasn't feeling it. They are both idiots. Then Kara's Raptor went down during the big nuclear standoff between Adama and the Cylons, and Lee and Sam were fighting about how best to deal with this. Boomer went all Mean Girl on Sharon about the baby, and Chief got hit in the head with some childhood religious memories. Meanwhile, Three was convinced her totally scary religious journey was leading her to the Temple and broke up her fake threesome with Caprica and Gaius in order to find out for sure. There are Cylon Raiders headed for the surface, and Adama's got his finger on the button, ready to blow the whole Temple to kingdom come; also the actual sun is about to go nova... And yet it wasn't all that thrilling, from what I remember. That was a long time ago. This episode is way better, and/or happening right now.
In the Galactica CIC, Roslin's watching as Adama talks the crew through the steps of nuclear annihilation. Nobody's really all that excited about blowing up their people and the Temple, but they're doing what they have to, now that Adama's gotten into this cockfight with Three and Cavil. Everybody's waiting for everybody else to blink. On the Basestar, Leoben (and the rest of the ones you always see) is standing with his hand in the puddle of infogoo, advising to pull the Raiders back before Adama blows the Temple. Eight agrees immediately, and even Cavil isn't willing to risk the Temple. Six agrees, because she has that religious weirdness -- and if this is Caprica Six, which I think it is, she has an investment in wrecking Biers's first date with Gaius as well. The Three in the Basestar command doesn't say a thing, just stares and waits for God to fix this.
Also playing chicken are Anders and Apollo, down on the planet. Sam wants to go save Kara himself, but Apollo won't let him. I don't even remember why, and at this point it's not important. I would hate to say that it's because Sam's too important for the Temple defense, with his guerilla skills, but I don't know about that line of reasoning, given what comes . Anders offers to throttle Lee if anything happens to her, and Lee assures him that if she dies out there, he'll willingly let Sam kill him. Anders postures about how you can't very well follow him around with a gun every second, and that he's still going to save Kara. Lee tells a private to get Dualla on the line. Oh, dear. I see where he's coming from -- that whole military time issue from last episode -- but... there's not a single other person you could give this operation to? In all the Fleet, you gotta send your wife to save your girlfriend? Yep. "Do you have eyeballs on Starbuck's position?" She's hunkered down at an observation post and can't see the Raptor itself, but there's a (huge) plume of smoke coming up from the Raptor a few klicks away. "Can you get to the Raptor?" he asks; she says she doesn't know. (What she means is: "Suck my dick, sir.") "It's pretty far away. There's minimal cover." (What she means is: "Military time or not, do not ask me to do this.") He asks again if it's doable, and she repeats that she doesn't know. What she means is: "Fine, I'll go save your frackin' girlfriend so she can wreck your marriage and/or shoot you some more." And if she doesn't, I'll volunteer.
In CIC, Tigh's turning his launch key; on the Basestar Three's begging them to chill: "They want the key to finding Earth as much as we do. He won't just destroy it." Leoben shakes his head, intensely: "We spoke, and the decision's been made." Three doesn't say anything, but puts her hands in the gel, and it goes red and scary looking. I don't know enough about the Cylons to know what she just did, but I think she sent them an email to do something anatomically incorrect to their own peripheral ports. And being Cylons, they receive it in record time. Oh, no, I see it on the dradis in CIC: she just recalled all the Raiders but the one carrying Biers and Gaius. Wow, that's ballsy. Adama and Gaeta are confused; the other Cylons are as well. I guess she told them she was going to do that, though. She repeats to Eight that there's no way he'll launch against just one ship, and Leoben puts his robot foot down. "That's not the issue. We made a decision. D'Anna has to turn back." Three demurs; Six -- now I'm sure it's Caprica -- orders her to Bluetooth Biers and Gaius around and bring them home with a quickness. Three is solid as steel: "No." Caprica's jaw drops. "What do you mean, no?" She is calm. "This is something that we have to do. He won't launch over one ship. You'll see." Still not the issue, especially with Caprica, but I guess we'll see.
"You want me...you want me to rescue Captain Thrace?" Dualla's pretty much disbelieving at this point, even though she knows she's going to do it. He repeats the order and she signs off. "Foxfire One, out." She turns to hottie Sergeant of the Guard Omar Fischer -- he was the one, remember, who took control after Boomer shot the Admiral, so long ago; he's been around -- and clips out a short "We go." I gotta say, Foxfire's pretty much the queen of this episode. I like the writer's take on the character, but the acting is really, really complex and beautiful. Brittle, angry, forthright, dedicated to duty, strong, funny and willing to fight for her family. Hooray for Kandyse McClure, or the billion other ways you can spell her name. So talented, so lovely and real. I haven't loved Dee this much since... the last time we were in a firefight on a strange planet while Roslin and Adama futzed with leaving Lee behind, Starbuck was very super special and important, everybody was acting and making executive decisions like they were in a cult, and Gaius was stumbling through the imaginary religious artifacts of an old and alien culture. Hmm...
Of course, Adama immediately shields the missiles once the other five Raptors go home, just like Three thought. "You see? Never over just one ship." Three takes off, all glib in the face, and the rest of them stare at each other. Apples taste delicious unless you're the last one to take a bite. "That is not a good sign, my friends," says Cavil -- he likes machines to do their thing, and he wants to find Earth. Eight is all wow about how she defied the group -- right now, that is her stock in trade, no matter what iteration of the model she is. The girl made to love and be loved in return takes loyalty and duty really strongly, it's always been one of my favorite things about her. Love of country is a higher level of love, and demands just as much. (Not to mention the full-body shivers they all must get at this very concept, considering like three of them have gone rogue, ever. Alien thought systems: assume it hurts like cancer, like one cell in a body going crazy and not listening, not checking in. That's Athena, all the time; that's what Boomer's fighting to avoid, every robotic picosecond of every day. Try on those Cylon shoes, they're super comfy.) Leoben -- the resident "it's all about me" mystic of the Cylons, does not like Three getting her lunatic chocolate in his wild-eyed peanut butter: "It's not about in the Eye of Jupiter. It's about her." (I know I waxed crazy about this before, but remember when they just talked and it didn't matter which one was talking? I love knowing their personal agendas and weirdnesses and blind spots. In just a few months, Gaius Baltar has managed to fracture even that. Even their binary democracy is over, thanks to him: now you always know which is which. They call her "D'Anna," which would have horrified her back on Old Caprica; one day we'll know other Leobens, other Cavils, other Simons, and they won't always agree, and they'll be people, and I'll stop getting the toasterfucker hatemail once and for all.) Case in point: "It's like we don't even know them anymore," says Caprica, of course, who has a Galactica kind of romantic trouble with this turn of events. (Somewhere, my Billy's like, "Girl, I hear you.") Cavil -- who makes the hard decisions and says the hard things and always goes to the logical, horrifying step: "We may have to so something about this. We may have to do it sooner than later." End of Line.
Still in the teaser. I don't like this part very much, in terms of emotional response, and here's why. My whole "you can't rape a robot" stance is huge in the list of reasons why I personally feel sympathy toward the Cylons, and it rests on the concept that even if you know she's a robot, there's a part of you that doesn't. That's the part you have to protect, and that's what's at stake here. Agathon quarters, Sharon very much in Helo's terrified, sad face. "Hera's alive. I'm her mother, and I'm going to get her." He's shaking, begging her to consider other options: "Listen to me, okay? We could take a Raptor, we can fly to the baseship ourselves. I don't care anymore." She shakes her head and won't look at him; he promises to find another way. She swears there isn't another way. Her need is terrible. "Don't ask me to do this, Sharon," turning away from her; she comes around on the other side. "Listen to me. You have always been the strong one. You believed in us when no one else would. I'm begging you to do this. Find the courage to do this for both of us, okay?" Only two Cylons we know ever did this DIY: Gina, and the Cavil on New Caprica. Gina didn't resurrect, thankfully, and when Cavil did, it hurt like hell. A race protects itself by making this count. It looks like it doesn't cost, to us: it does. Ask Helo. He takes her face in his hands, and she begins to cry. She throws her arms around him, voice strong and full of tears: "I love you." You can barely hear him whisper in return. He starts to moan, choking on it, and looks into her eyes as he pulls the trigger. Blood spatters on the wall behind her, and she goes down; he catches her as she falls, drops the gun, and begins to scream.
Welcome the fuck back to Battlestar Galactica! Hope you had a great holiday, and your prescriptions have been filled!
41,401 souls in the Fleet. (That's one less than a second ago, by the way, for which I thank the powers that put that number in the credits. Ouch. Tiny little ouch.) Helo watches the Marines cleaning up the mess, zipping his wife into a bodybag, with Adama and Roslin standing by. Adama sends the Marines out and the three of them have a little talk, surrounded by his wife's blood. "Sharon's downloading into another body aboard a Cylon ship right now, isn't she?" asks Roslin. Helo's sitting down, hollowed out. "She begged me to do it." Helo not being strong is like seeing Roslin get dumped on. It's viscerally unsettling. She stares him down. "Gods, if you'd...seen the look in her eyes when I... " Adama -- who's not all that happy with Roslin right now either, by the way, which explains why Olmos spends this entire scene not looking a goddamn person in the eye -- points out that Sharon's got all kinds of clearance: "Codes, procedures; the tactical situation down on the planet's surface." Helo doesn't look up. It's like one of those readings where the people read a play without looking at each other; three people in their cages, trying to talk to each other. "... The Cylons have access to all of that as well," he finishes. Helo gets angry, pointing out that Adama gave her the uniform because he knew she wouldn't betray them. Adama points out that she might not have a choice.
I don't know about that -- not because I love Sharon so much, but because until like five minutes ago, the Cylons never needed to interrogate each other. They just knew. I can't see having any systems in place to get through to somebody like that: even when DEMAND LOVE was getting weird about concentration camps and nuclear annihilation, the other Cylons mostly just acted like they were being bitchy. "She says she could resist, that she wouldn't let it happen. She'll get Hera...and she'll come back." Roslin makes her point a hell of a lot better here than she did last time she faced off with Helo, which is good because this time she has even less of the moral high ground than she did before, when he didn't know she'd kidnapped his baby to suck its blood: "That's quite a leap of faith you've made, there, Captain. And if it involved your family only, I'd say it was brave. But you've put the entire Fleet in jeopardy, are you aware of that?"
He's palpable enough just being there; it hurts enough to know he's in the room. He doesn't have to do anything; he does anyway. He stands with an angry, hateful grin, locking eyes and coming closer -- that's a lot of Helo to have coming at you -- and gives the only appropriate answer here: "If you hadn't lied...and stolen our baby in the first place," Adama, still not looking at anybody in the room, holds his arm but doesn't pull or push. "We wouldn't be here at all." It's the hand you put on a dog when he starts growling at the intruder: gentle but firm and allowing the growl to continue. I don't know how -- without saying or doing anything -- Olmos manages to make his point in this scene so gracefully, but it's really something. Without even moving both feet, he's managed to assure Helo that he loves him and is worried about him, Roslin that he agrees with her in theory but is still pissed about the baby, and both of them that they aren't getting away with anything as long as he's there. As long as I'm wigging the body electric about how great this show is, I should say that he is fucking rad.
McDonnell is, of course, no slouch. The great thing about having such a good cast in terms of the actual craft is that they get sparking off each other and it goes wild right in your hand. One supernova is enough; this scene has three. (Don't even get me started on the Dee/Kara scene coming up. I almost barfed! I kicked your dog so hard he screamed!) So Laura looks down as Helo turns away; everybody's quiet as he sits down again. She speaks in measured tones, fully aware of at least this one bad call. "I certainly played my part in bringing us to this moment. And there's plenty of blame to throw around, and I accept it. And now all of our lives are in the hands of Sharon Agathon." Factually true, and something to worry about, because there's nothing any of them can do about that now. Everybody's back in their cages. "All we can do is hope that your wife is worthy of the unconditional trust you place in her, Captain." She turns, chastened but proud, and calls back over her shoulder: "And you as well, Admiral." Guess we'll see, lady. I remember wanting to open up my shirt and take her cancer for myself. I still love her, but I miss loving loving her. How can I love Kara Frackin' Thrace more than Laura Roslin? Something's not right. Fuck story logic, I said. And it fucked me right back, because nobody makes more sense than Laura Roslin, even/especially now. Damn her.
Sharon gasps and wakes in a birthing pod, as Caprica strokes her hair. She asks what happened, solicitously, and Sharon swallows. "They wouldn't let me see my daughter, so my husband shot me. It was the only way." She looks up into Caprica's eyes, the yearning: prodigal daughter, returning home. It's so different now, isn't it? This is the model that used to make the other Sixes spit with frustration; the only Eight we've seen Caprica love, Boomer, is receding into the background, dealing with Hera -- whom she also loves -- just as Caprica's grownup love life is falling apart. Who does Caprica have? The other Sixes blew her head off to make a rhetorical point; she cut off everybody else when she found Gaius again -- everybody but Boomer and Biers -- and now Boomer's crazy and jealous and Cally-hateful, and Biers and Gaius are gone. How lonely must she be? And here comes the one Cylon who gets it, who understands the spark. Who gets why you could miss New Caprica, awfulness aside, just being with them, and loving them as best you can, as God would want you to: Sharon loves them so much she switched sides altogether. We didn't really meet Caprica until landfall, but she's really got a learning curve on her. (I saw it in Playboy, along with the rest of them -- it was kind of like seeing the Final Five Cylons. Aside: the only thing more powerful than the beauty of those shots is the respect she garners from me for standing for them. Beautiful shots, really. And I say that as a Puritan.) But seriously, I'm proud of Caprica: even now, she's doing what she thinks is right parallel to what she needs, watching Sharon for signs of impending treachery while wanting so badly to believe. And still being pretty scary at the same time, like Sixes have to.
Caprica smiles down at Sharon sweetly: "Well, it's over now. The important thing is that you're here." Before she can start planning their spa weekend and whatever, girl's night on the Pimp Bed with snacks and hair-braiding and pirated copies of SINchronicity, for the cryin', Sharon asks after Hera. Caprica doesn't even think about whether to be honest: "She's getting worse." Sharon wants to see her, and Caprica's smile slowly fades: "And then what?" Then you teach me the lesson that anybody I trust will eventually turn on me? Again? If Eight was built to love and be loved in return, then Six was built just to be loved; Caprica is learning what happens when they don't. Like Boomer, like you and me. Over and over, Six learns, in the most horrible ways. Function isn't personality, it's neurosis; waking up is painful. And then what? Six is predicated upon a strong and clear purpose: whatever it is, DEMAND LOVE or DEMAND PEACE or God's will or Colonial rape farms or New Caprica, it's the Sixes that fight hardest for the plan. Take the plan away and she falls apart. And then what? It's the Sixes that play midwife, over and over again. And then what? Sharon closes her eyes and swallows the grossness: "What they did to me. Stealing my baby, and telling me she was dead. Proved it. Hera's safer here." Caprica smiles through her tears of relief. "And so am I," Sharon lies. And Caprica's smile is clear again. Oh, girl, take care of yourself. Sharon's the apple. Again.
Apollo tells the guerillas and the Marines and Sam the plan for protecting the Temple: Starbuck reported the Centurion party Three sent down in advance, coming toward the Temple and the basecamp down a canyon, making a chokepoint they can use for an ambush. "Our mission is to hold the Temple here. If we fail, we blow it up, we fall back to these rendezvous points, and then we head into the mountains and we wait for rescue." Everybody nods. Sam notes it's as good a place to die as any. I see what Kara sees in him.
Dualla and Fischer discuss the totally exposed, scary clear area between them and Starbuck's Raptor. Fischer -- and I don't know if this is an intentional echo of Sam above or just a sloppy edit -- calls it "a nice day for a walk." They rise, and gunfire immediately rings out; Fischer drops and one arm is thrown across Dualla's ass. Without looking, she hisses, "Hey, take it easy, Fischer," then realizes he's gone. ... "Sarge? Sarge?" She rolls him over; his face is fried. Like he looked at the sun. She stands up, gunshots ringing out, and runs down the side of the canyon, under heavy fire, like a total motherfracking badass on a hike through the valley of death. I ⥠Dualla.
Chief bangs his forehead in the Temple of Five, trying to decipher the writing and figure out the secret of the Eye. Cally comes running up with the phone: "Galen, it's Major Adama!" If you were thinking that's like Cally's highest purpose in the universe, bringing you the phone, I won't say you're wrong, but I will say: Keep watching. Apollo asks Chief about the Eye, and Chief asks for more time. Apollo reports that the Cylons are on the move, and to hurry. Chief hangs up and everybody runs around inside the Temple some more.
On a bluff above the Temple, Three and Gaius stare down at it. Three gets shy, Gaius tries to encourage her. "The answers to all your questions are down there in that Temple. What's wrong?" She has nonspecific God fear, shivering. "You are the anointed one. Chosen by God to look on the faces of the Final Five Cylons. It's already written. You will succeed." She sighs and looks down, he cups her face; she reveals her heretofore secret fear that the Final Five and all the Face of God mess that is implied will make her crazy. "The hybrid has looked into the space between life and death, and she's seen things that we cannot conceive of. But she's been driven mad as a result." (Told you. But I also said it only looks crazy to us.) He tells her, in a strong voice, to have faith in God. "Put your life in His hands. He will guide you to your destiny." She smiles, encouraged and brave, and says quietly, "I'm grateful to you. For everything." Her voice implies so much tenderness and intimacy -- they've told us about it but I don't feel like we've really seen it before. She loves him like whoa. He's all tied up with her religion stuff, but she's the one driving the boat. It's a really cool dynamic, as girl/boy religious weirdness goes. He could have just been the Charlie Manson, but instead he's the one that doesn't know what the hell he's doing. Of course, that also means she's right, and we can't have that, so Chip Six appears: "Her destiny will part company from yours, Gaius. She's not the chosen one, you are." Who's talking? "Yes," he says, "I know," and at Three's questioning look: "I know." Remember when I actually cared about the humans, and the Cylon asides were just little irritating terrorist-sympathy diatribes? I can't say at this point that I blame the humans for what has happened here, and I do actually really love the Kara/Lee/Sam/Dee storyline -- yeah, I'm the one -- but MAN do these girls get me going. I love them so much!
In fact, let's have a little sidebar, you and me. It's time to talk mission statement. I can't speak for the creators or writers of the show, but here's my deal. Why the fuck should the point of any television show be that "they" hate us and "they" can't be stopped and "they" are evil and not worth a moment's time? I'm sure your objections to the Basestar storyline are totally valid, and not necessarily hateful, but I can't imagine anything more boring, or short-sighted, or reactionary. You're worried about the Cylons getting less scary? I could stand to live in a world where that was at least possible, where most of the decisions being made by my government arise from that kind of superstitious, hateful nonsense. No matter how twisted by hate or religion -- and we've got more than enough on our side of both to balance the scales -- there's no such thing as "they." There are birth pains for civilization, there are seemingly impossible thought patterns and mores that contradict ours, there are interdependencies and long-term rivalries and hatreds, but...the show's been pretty open about turning itself into a dual-protagonist show. Cylons and Fleet at cross-purposes. That's a lot closer to the truth of the world around us than some silly unstoppable enemy chasing you across space until you get cancelled. I don't dismiss the evil the Cylons have done, but I don't see the point in indicting them for it. You can be lazy and point to the jihad and say it's evil and inhuman and stop there, or you can wonder why.
War is a joke. Take a drop of water, or mercury, and divide it: they're both made of the same stuff, come from the same places, love and worship the same God, and if you put them together, you'll never figure out where one starts and another begins. It's molecular, something you can't see. 9/11 : the attack on the Colonies : Gaius's presence on the Basestar :: a mistake, that changes everything for everybody. That kills innocence and introduces the possibility of (here it comes) grace. Our difference from the Cylons is as simple as thought process -- and he's breaking it down as quickly as we're learning to think like them. Athena is the first step in creating that raindrop; Three's complete schizout is the same thing, from the Cylon side. Jihads are made of people and they have reasons for what they do. It's slack and ignorant to leave it at that; all that does is contribute to the joke of war. "They" are very, very different from you and I in certain respects, and not going about things in ways I approve, of course, but "they" are people. Trying to figure it out. It's a difficult but I think necessary proposition to at least try on their shoes once in a while. Anybody or anything that you think is out-and-out evil deserves at least a second glance (see Three at the conclusion of this episode for the Cylon response; check out how similar it is to blowing off the show for asking these questions).
So no, I don't "mourn the loss" of the Cylons' mystery and menace: that's evolution. Heaven for everybody. I think any story that wants to responsibly talk about war and genocide had better get its shit together about this, and I think this show is clearly doing so. Frankly, jihad and terrorism could stand to lose a fuckload of mystery and menace, we could all stand to read up on the Quran, because that's how you move forward. Other people don't need your mystery and menace, they need your strength. How you draw the line between that and saying the show's jumped the shark, or I'm a bad American or a shitty writer for loving the Cylons, is your business. I'm trying really hard not to say that the concept is offensive to me, because it's really just a TV show we could stand to learn a little something from. But it sometimes seems to confuse a lot of people when I have to write about the Cylons, and I figure now's as good a time as any, because this is a Cylon-heavy episode and a Cylon-heavy show and we live in a Cylon-heavy world, and I, for good or ill, am your recapper.
Apollo's on a ridge with the snipers while Anders's team sets up the charges in the canyon. The conversation cuts back and forth between the two teams; Barolay asks Anders what happens if the Cylons don't play along, and Anders tells her they're following Apollo's orders in the hopes they won't die. Somebody asks Lee if the civilians can handle, this and Apollo points out that for a Pyramid team they did pretty well on Caprica. The Centurions appear and Lee signals the ground team. The Centurions continue recon and we wait, and wait, and wait for them to show up.
Commercial, more waiting, and then a big huge fight. They take out the lead Centurion's legs and he fires from the ground, awesomely. One of our guys falls, and the robots finally pull back. The groups reconvene, hiding the body and checking all points. "We bought ourselves a little time," Lee says. "But they'll be back. And with force. So dig in. We'll need to hold them off until Chief finds the Eye. And keep your eyes out on those ridges." More staring, more pointing guns, more worrying. Anders asks about Kara and Dee; nothing so far.
In Starbuck's Raptor, she tries to pull the gloves off her burned hands, but it hurts too much. She squeezes her eyes tight against the sound of ripping flesh, biting holes in her lip and gasping. She doesn't cry. Missing the shadow passing by, she goes for the morph, almost crying or barfing, unable to open it. There's a thump, and she pulls her pistol at the door. It took a shorter time to write those sentences than it did to watch it happen, but it felt like it was taking forever. It's hard to watch. Dualla sticks her head in and Starbuck lowers the gun, shouting how she almost shot her, and Dee's like, "Yeah. Glad to see you too." She drops that tune mighty fast as Starbuck gags on her pain, having ripped more skin holding the gun. She takes Kara's hands softly: "Okay, okay. It's okay, yeah." She grabs a morph shot and stabs Kara in the leg with it, hard, for old time's sake. Kara cuts eyes at her and she shrugs; Kara knows she deserved that at least: "Lee sent you?" Dee bites off every other word: "Yep. My husband...ordered me to risk my life for yours, that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna bring Starbuck back to Apollo." Starbuck rolls her eyes in pain and guilt -- and smack! -- and orders another chardonnay, hold the black flies.
Caprica brings Sharon to the nursery, where Hera is screaming. Boomer stands at her crib, uncomfortable, immediately scowling at them, sick of listening to the kid cry, sick of feeling like the copy. Sharon crouches and looks at Hera, smiling through tears, as Caprica watches lovingly. "It's me. It's Mommy. Yes." She looks up at Boomer: "What's wrong?" She shakes her head, angry and out of her mind and hurt. "We tried everything. She didn't respond." Caprica -- never one to shelter Eight from the harsh realities of life -- is on fire with joy as Hera quiets down: "Look at that! Hera knows her. That's amazing." She stupidly reaches out to clasp Boomer's arm, thinking this is joyful for her as well. Six's smile was never as beautiful as the day she learned about Hera; Chip Six's smile was never so beautiful as when she was spinning her Crazy Math. "You and she are biologically identical, [but] Hera recognizes her mother!" Like it's a science fair project, and not Boomer's life, Boomer's failure, in 3-D living Technicolor. Boomer's lip curls, spitting again on Sharon Valerii, one last time: "Well, good, because you can have her. I'm done with her." Sharon, full of love for her sister, confused by this new side of her: "You don't mean that. I know you still care about Tyrol and Adama." Boomer shakes her head, almost shivering with rage: "No. I'm done with that part of my life." She means it as much as she's ever meant anything, as much as anybody's ever meant anything is how much she means this. Doesn't make it true. Caprica sees this, and more, and her grin falls. "I learned that on New Caprica. Humans and Cylons were not meant to be together," Boomer says, breaking Caprica's heart. "We should just go our separate ways."
For those of you keeping score at home: This is now the second time Cally's killed Boomer. This time I think it'll keep. I almost hope it does. I wanted to reach through the screen and save her; hold her, find her in there and rescue her, and say I was sorry. I was sad when Ellen died; this is worse. This is hate, returned upon hate. There's no love here. This leads nowhere.
Sharon puts the baby down in her crib, smoothes her layette, notices her belly's gone hard. "Have you noticed that before?" Boomer's stricken: the thing she was supposed to do, the thing that made her okay: turned on her, she fucked it up. Thought like a robot, even in the places she felt human. You just got Cavil'd. Caprica gets worried and asks what it could mean; Sharon says "blocked intestine" like she's from Vancouver, rhyming it with "end of line." Boomer folds her arms, petulant: "Our doctors examined her." Sharon points out they've never even seen a child, and pulls Caprica away for a private talk. "Hera needs to be seen by a human doctor. I need to take her back to Galactica." Caprica shakes her head, sympathetic: "You know that can't happen, what this child means to us. What she means to every living Cylon." As Sharon puts her hand on Caprica's arm to beg, Boomer interrupts hatefully. "I should have known. She's been planning this all alone." Sharon tells her to feel Hera, and Boomer -- her skin crawling at the unending screaming, if you've had a kid you know this feeling, how much it makes you hate yourself, what a failure it makes you -- and nods. "She's right. Belly's as hard as a gourd." Sharon pushes Caprica's buttons -- always a sore point, but especially today -- talking about how God will never forgive her if she lets the first of the new generation die. Caprica's the only one who loves Hera as much as these two, the only one capable. She softens; Boomer gets harder.
"Maybe Cavil's right. Maybe God never wanted us to have children in the first place." Sharon turns; Boomer's lost, her hand at Hera's throat. She's still screaming. Boomer grits it out through her teeth, biting down on whatever's past irritation, biting down on self-hate. "Maybe it'd be better for you if I just snapped your little neck!" Sharon runs forward and Boomer whips around to look up at her, rabid. "Don't! Please. Please don't kill my baby girl," Sharon begs. Boomer doesn't move. You're Sharon Agathon: they took your child, had it stolen from them. You forced your husband to murder you, went behind enemy lines, to get her back. And now the broken mirror, the punishment Galactica gave this sister, is staring you in the face: they keep killing Boomer. They took everything and left you with nothing but a hole of guilt and loneliness, and no matter how many lies you tell or how bad it gets, you know you're not the real thing. Even Hera knows, even Hera chose Athena ("Athena") over Boomer. Even the life you claim to hate bites at your hands. Nature Girl never had a chance: they threw her onstage with no background, no knowledge, no chance of doing anything but what she was told. And along comes Nurture Girl, the one who willingly chose to live as a human, the one that gets the love and accolades. The one that trained herself to love beyond the lines of country and race and creed; the one with no hidden programming, no secrets, no lies. The one that got the guy and got the baby and got her commission as a Cylon, not some sick robot approximation of a human that never deserved to be loved. The one that was created to die. They stare; Caprica comes back around Boomer, and snaps her neck. You can see it in her face, for a second: the shark. She plays midwife. "I believe the future of the Cylon rests with this child," Caprica says as Sharon picks up her daughter. "And the others who are going to come after her." Sharon nods: "So do I." It's another blood ceremony, another agreement of shared purpose. This is how DEMAND LOVE started; this is really just another iteration. Until they get it right. "There's a captured Raptor aboard. Let's go. We've gotta get you back to Galactica." The three of them leave: maiden and mother and midwife. Boomer's body lies on the floor, forgotten. Like she never existed. I cried, right there.
You're Sharon Valerii: Lieutenant Junior Grade Sharon "Boomer" Valerii, pilot T-, from Aerolon Colony. You're Brokeback Boomer. They sit you down in a room and tell you you're nothing, not what you thought: the most disgusting thing you can imagine, the enemy of humanity, everything you have learned to hate and fear beyond thought. You shoot the man you're trained to respect most, the one whose approval everybody desperately needs, because you're a tool: you fuck that up. Your relationships, your lover, your Commander, everybody turns on you in a second, for stuff you have no control over. They chain you up, denigrate you, shoot at your face in their dreams; they murder you. And even then, your first thought is love: bringing Cylon and human back into balance. You fuck that up. You come into possession of a daughter, another child from another life, whom you're told contains the future, and your most treasured faith: the child born to bring Cylon and human back into balance. Her existence is your salvation: human and Cylon in one, no infighting and no self-hatred and no fear, no loneliness, no pain. And you fuck that one up too, and even the baby can tell. Don't think we didn't all have a hand in bringing her here; don't think she could have ended anywhere else. Everybody has a destiny. She was always headed straight for this, and we did it to her. Cylons and humans, together. I always knew I'd eventually have to find another favorite character, but that doesn't mean it doesn't suck right now.
On the algae planet there are more gunshots, and in the Temple, Cally comes running up with the phone: "It's the Major." She should just do this seven times in every episode, I'd be so happy, Clyne gets paid, everything works out. Apollo yells again about the Eye of Jupiter and whatever, the whole scene happens again from a second ago, and the sun is going to go nova, and the Centurions are coming. Outside, there's an awesome part where Apollo pulls a pin and tosses Anders a live grenade, which he smoothly basketballs right into the group of Centurions. I'm sure there's a word for that move, I just call it "gorgeous." Apollo orders the Chief to blow the Temple, and Chief's pissed but he gets ready to leave. As he's playing out the detonator lead toward the door, he turns back and wishes he had more time, or some other way, or the answer. Cally, of course, has no idea about any of this and just tries to comfort him as well as a person like her can. I don't expect any better from her at this point, I just wish they'd fucking stop blowing up CHURCH.
Dualla reports that the Raptor's structurally intact, and Starbuck nods. "Okay." She tells Dualla what needs to happen, which is that you take data cord from the comms and bypass the fly-by... what am I telling you for? You know how to fly a Raptor. She finishes up the instructions and convulses in pain again. Still refusing to cry. Man, when Kara Thrace actually cries, I am going to fucking lose my mind. That's worse than Helo. Dee gives her another shot and notes there's only one left: "Better save it for when you fly us out of here." Kara laughs and doesn't point out that her hands are hamburger. "I can't fly. Especially all whacked up on morph." She starts to drift off on the smack and Dualla's like, "Frackin' great." From the depths of her drug haze, Starbuck heads into Bad Idea territory. "He won't cheat. He's too honorable." Dualla continues to strip data cord like it slapped her momma, and snorts: "Unlike you." Starbuck's eyes are lidded, tired and sad. "Yeah, unlike me. I love Sam, I hate Sam. I love Lee, I hate Lee. Gods, I have to cheat just to keep the pieces all nice and neat." (P.S. Those lines are actually impossible to say credibly, but Sackhoff does fairly well. That should have been an ad-lib, because there are a million ways to get that across that don't sound like they were first written down on a piece of paper by a science fiction writer, and Sackhoff could act the hell out of any of them.) Starbuck drifts off at the end of this improbable line of dialogue, and Dualla slaps the everloving bastard shit out of her. It's AWESOME. "Stay with it," she says calmly. "You still gotta walk me through these avionics." That's amazing. They managed to do that scene the one possible way where everybody rocks and nobody looks like an asshole. Or I mean, more of an asshole than Kara just naturally is. That was great.
As Chief notifies Apollo that he's wiring the last detonator, down the bluff, Three and Gaius enter the Temple of Five... with a sudden Cavil. Why? He's wearing a very nice hat, but why? And also: you couldn't have had him on the outer edge of the earlier scene, so we'd at least know he was there? Three sees the explosives; Cavil yells that they have to disconnect the charges like immediately. (Would it get on your very last nerve if I pointed out that Cally and Chief put bombs in the Temple-as-political-keystone, and Three and Cavil are the ones to take them out again, because it's a sacred place? Yes? Never mind, then.)
Although Chief does balk, outside with Apollo screaming in his ear to blow it. He stalls and can't do it. Chief's relationship with religion is the most fascinating thing. What he can and can't do. I feel like if he sat down with Kara they would have the whole subject figured out in like five seconds. Three orders Gaius to come help with the de-explosiving of the Temple; outside, Apollo grabs the detonator control. For some reason it's less offensive that Lee would do this: it's in his character completely, and I like him a whole lot, and he's not really betraying anything by doing it. What does he care? Three pulls the last charge as Apollo spins up the detonator and presses the button: nothing. He starts to throttle the Chief, which is comedic to watch, but just then God shows up.
"Major, look," says Tyrol, pointing over the ridge at the strange lights in the sky. It looks like the sun going nova. Also, it is.
Chip Six appears, pointing at the huge EYE ON THE FLOOR that you might remember spotting when it took up permanent residence onscreen last episode. "There it is, Gaius. It has the answers to all of your questions." He stares: "That's the Eye?" Three asks what he means, and he covers: "Something the hybrid said, uh...sapphire blue, shining like unto a star... " Nicely done, Doctor. Smooth. Cavil puts his chin up, standing between them. "D'Anna... you didn't come here looking for Earth. You came here looking for something else."
The sun explodes.
Kelly and Gaeta run around on CIC about how the sun is exploding and the nova is going to take out the whole planet in an hour. Tigh and Roslin stare, Adama is grim.
"Major, look. It's the mandala from the Temple. This is supposed to be happening. That's it. I was staring at it the whole time. The sun is going nova. The nova is the Eye of Jupiter." That was all one chunk of dialogue courtesy of my man the Chief. Anders stares up at the Eye and thinks about how his girlfriend has a destiny, and how if the world were ending right now, which it technically is, who would you want by your side, and how funny it is that suddenly, it's okay that that person is Lee Adama. Chief stares up at the Eye and thinks about his parents, how they died in the holocaust, and about suicide and what happened after Boomer, and about the question of faith: how can you profess faith when the natural world supplies you with physical proof of miracles? Apollo stares up at the Eye and realizes he still gets to blow up a church.
Dualla flies Starbuck's Raptor shittily, as Kara's explaining that they'll just go directly into orbit and then Galactica can come and save them. Which is -- not solely for reasons of time management -- way better than Dualla showing up with Kara in her arms, like the martyr of all time, which was the concretized metaphor originally in the draft here, I think, which gives me the wiggins. Now of course, if that had happened, I would have wept and cheered, but -- what are you really saying there, beyond "awesome visual that indicts and glorifies at once," that you didn't already say before? This whole storyline in this episode -- maybe this whole episode, full stop -- comes down to one moment: that split second that Dualla, the voice of home, saw Kara's wounded hands, and dropped her rage entirely. Just forgot to be angry, or do anything but love. That's my girl. In that moment, she's better than the four of them ever were, together or separately. That's Adama taking Sharon's oath of service, with one hand to the Gods; and Caprica getting in a Raptor with Athena, playing midwife again, headed for the scariest place in the universe; and Chief standing under an angry sun, refusing to blow up the Temple as a world comes apart around him. That's Helo, weeping as she falls, with her name on his lips. Because he knows it's the only way, and that she can't help but come home again. That's what humanity's capable of at its highest moments: faith and mercy, beyond anger or fear. That's what strength looks like, and it's how we're going to win.
I'm allowed to be excited that my favorite show is back on TV, right? Give me that. Three stares down at the Eye, about which Chip Six just gaiused her loud and clear. "This is my destiny. To see what lies between life and death." It is. It is. Cavil shakes his head: "And to look upon the faces of the Final Five. That can't happen." He's the guy that killed Socrates and Galileo and Copernicus and Jesus Christ, for saying things you shouldn't say. He's the one that says there are things we shouldn't know. He is the face of evil, on this show. Gaius is weakness and Three is hubris; you want evil? Brother Cavil. "This is my destiny," she protests, caught up in rapture; he apologizes to her, calling her by name, and takes aim. Gaius takes him out from behind, and he falls. As she turns to the Eye, the ceiling and pillar begin to glow, connecting heaven and earth. She steps into the ray of light upon the floor, and finds herself in the Great Hall. She stares around in wonder, turning on her heel like a girl. End of Line. She smiles at the Final Five, bathed in light. "Is it really you?" she asks. Everywhere there are spirits, whispering voices, the sound of all knowledge, the sound the hybrid hears and understands. The light the hybrid sees. She steps toward one, who holds out his/her hand. Three's face is beautiful, lit with wonder, and love. Her eyes go soft, and tender, as she gets the joke. "You. Forgive me... "
Whom does she see? "I had no idea," she says, eyes filling with infinite grief, and infinite love, and understanding, and the peace just past understanding, and on into grace. Who does she see? The one in light too bright to see holds her hand briefly; she clasps it gratefully, surprised by mercy and by beauty. Who does she see? Kara Thrace, broken on her mother's wheel, just like all the times Three dicked with Caprica and Boomer, in their own best interests. William Adama, the steward of life, just as she is. Felix Gaeta, whose heart was broken by love, just like hers. Laura Roslin, who laid down her life and everything she held dear, in the search for God. Just like her. Sam Anders, who carved out a life in a haze of fear and radiation, hoping for better. Anastasia Dualla, who calls us home when we're too far out. Lee Adama, for whom breaking the sacred covenants of duty and love is physically painful, but so often necessary. Caprica Six, who taught her to love so completely that you lose whatever guideposts you were taught. Gaius Baltar, who taught her to question, and learn, and look, and seek. Sharon Valerii, who has been used just as cruelly as God is using her now. Sharon Agathon, who taught her everything that rises -- every single thing -- is a sacrament to God, no matter how terrifying it may seem at the time. Maybe she sees Ellen Tigh, or Billy Keikeya, or Maya, or Hera. Maybe she sees Leoben or the hybrid, eyes finally clear of madness, able to speak plain in this new dimension, free of the constraints of time and what we see. If I wrote it, I know exactly who she'd be looking at: D'Anna Biers Three, Cylon and angel, fearless traveler, steward of life, brave dreamer, seeker, lover, all of these and more. And the last thing she'd hear that fucker say would be, "I love you. We've always loved you. You can come home now." Whatever face it wears, and you can't honestly think it matters, maybe that's what she's hearing now. Cylon psychology is based on projection. Mine too. Yours too.
Three stands in the Temple of Five, and in Heaven, and between five stars, burning off what doesn't work. Gaius catches her as she falls, asking what she saw. "What... Who was it?" Her eyes go white and she begins to choke. Every rapture has its price: ask Dualla, looking at her pilot's hands. Ask Chief, watching the sun itself burn away his awful burden. "So beautiful," she says. Now it's all she can see. He begs her to tell him what she saw, still hoping against hope he's a Cylon, and not just a hateful traitor to his people and the Gods. "You were right," she smiles. She was the anointed one. It was time. You can't go through this and come back: the point of reincarnation is where she just reached. If they don't box her for this, something else will happen. She's done. She touched God and held His hand, and went blind, and is dying. "D'Anna, did you see my face? I have to know, please. Please, stay with me." She drops in his arms, her head hits the floor with a sickening thud. God rest her soul. (I love these Cylons, I really do. Here's a list of some of my favorite TV people -- as in, "I really identify with what that character is going through" -- of all time, which you will definitely find horrifying, but might find edifying as far as the process story this recap is turning out to be. Marissa Cooper, Brenda Chenowith, Dr. Izzie Stevens, Amanda and Hilda, Aeryn Sun, Karen Sammler, Toby Ziegler, and Simon Cowell. The reason should be obvious: I don't have any idea how to be human, either. I'm just happy when other people try.)
"Stay, I have to know! Tell me, I have to know! Did you see my face?" She's gone. "Frack it," he mumbles to himself, hilariously. Like anybody else's religious awakening ever matters to anybody, right, but of course Gaius is like ten times less interested than anybody else would be. Besides Cavil, I mean. He knows full well what the cost will be, I'll give him that. He felt her die, in his arms. I think he loved her. I think he was along for the ride, and looking for salvation through her path, rather than his own. But he does know what he's trading here, I'll give him that, as he steps into the circle. At worst, he's human and dies: that's better than being human and living with what he spends every second ignoring. At best, he's a Cylon -- well, it's Gaius, so make that King Pimp of the Cylon Hordes, or maybe God Himself -- and nothing he's done matters, because he was doing what was right. Take away his purpose and he falls apart. "God, tell me the truth before I die?" He's ready. I'm kind of proud of him, even though he's coming to this with very impure intentions: as selfish as it is, as monumentally selfish as this is, he's still willing to trade. The Chief puts a gun to his head, and cocks it. "Welcome home, Mr. President." He knocks Gaius on the head, and the doctor goes down.
On Galactica CIC they're expositing: the Cylons have jumped away, the nova shock is coming fast, they're rescuing everybody off the surface before the nova hits.
The blast reaches the planet, and it smells like they burned the seaweed at Musashino, hitting all over the surface, beautifully taking first the bluffs and then the Temple apart, Raptors taking off, the ceiling falling in, the cliffs going down; the star's last fire chasing Raptors into Galactica's bay before she jumps. On other shows you can talk about the crucible and the this and that; on this show? Actual stars, actual suns, actual nebulae. So awesome.
Cally and Chief climb out of a Raptor on the hangar deck, with Apollo and Anders, carrying a bodybag. They gurney the bag over to Tigh, and Chief opens it as Cally looks on. It's Gaius, sleeping like a filthy little angel. "He's not dead?" asks Tigh, in his saltiest voice. "No, unfortunately," grumbles the Chief. They're so cute. I'm glad everybody's back home. Tigh sends them to the bridge; Lee daps Sam on the knee sweetly, without looking, and their bodies come to an agreement. Sam's learned a little something about military time, and Lee's learned about why Kara loves him, and proven that his greatest goal -- and this is the best thing about him, always -- is that all four of them get out of this alive. I love Lee Adama.
Kara comes out of Dualla's Raptor and down onto the wing. Sam launches toward her; Apollo stands on the wing, watching. Dualla approaches him, staring him down. He runs to her, one eye on Sam and Kara embracing. Four pairs of eyes close in relief and complicated love, and open again. Lee and Kara look at each other, in Sam and Dee's arms. The math here isn't so bad: this episode was about Kara and Dee's peace, and Lee and Sam's peace. We've nearly solved the problem. By TV/this show rules, all we need is A) one episode where Dee and Sam get drunk and talk about what fuckholes their spouses are, and then B) maybe Kara and Lee beat each other up one more time, and then C) it'll be okay. Stop bitching. If you can't hate the Cylons anymore, and I can't have my Boomer anymore, and Laura Roslin doesn't seem interested in getting me back on her side, then I'm sorry, but: the weird sex tension between Kara and Lee is like the only original theme left on this whole show. You can still hate the Cylons if you want, it's not actually a huge deal for me, I'm just saying this is where I stop being polite and start getting real. Not that I was all that sensitive about protecting the feelings of Cylon haters before, I grant you, but at this point I just feel like it's blatantly resisting the point, and I can't cater. Like the show or don't, but don't complain that it's not what you signed up for. You signed up for a story, and you're getting a story. An awesome one. Don't freak out like a shipper just because it's not the story you were expecting.
Door number three! Another Raptor cracks open: Sharon, holding Hera. Helo laughs, heartbreakingly, and holds his daughter. For the first time in his life. With his wife by his side. They smile tenderly at each other, and she gets hardcore; he already knows the score. "We have to get her to Doc Cottle right away," she says, and with that, he's ready to go, to the sound of a hundred guns drawn, and sharp Marine barks: it's Caprica, standing on the wing, terrified, knowing she did this to herself for the glory of the Cylon, willing to take her lumps. Again. Sharon throws herself in front of Caprica, shouting. "Hold your fire! Hold your fire. She helped us escape." Tigh is very mean and angry, both of them understandable, as he tells Sharon -- addressing her as "Lieutenant," and I know there's nothing else for him to call her, but it still warms my heart -- to get the frack out of the way. Helo holds out hand, calling her name, and she runs off with him to take care of Hera. Which was part of the deal, and Caprica knows that. She knows all of it. She is a hero. She comes down into enemy custody, the Marines close rank around her; Tigh conducts them to You Know Where. This is going to be the best season ever, for the like sixth demi-season running, even if I don't get my weekly Basestar hit. Give me Chip Gaius and I'll roll over, I swear.
On CIC, the Exposition Club of the week, Bill and Laura and Gaeta and Chief, talk about how the nova looks like the mandala inside the Temple. In other words: the sun looks like an eye. Stop the presses. They're both round and do important things like photosynthesis or looking at stuff. Roslin asks Chief if the Thirteenth Tribe maybe had a vision of what was to come, because lord knows the lady likes visions if they make her feel less crazy, and Chief applies some quick plot caulk: "I don't know what else it could mean." (This definitely falls under the "it makes sense, doesn't it?" rule of lazy writing, by the way.) It could mean any fucking number of things, but whatever, we know where this is headed so go with it: either there was another star at some point -- "Seen one nova, you've seen them all," deadpans Tigh -- or there was... oh, hi Gaeta. "Well, there was another nova." He spreads out a handy map on the console. This is retarded but whatever, this episode was fucking fantastic, they can pants around with novae for awhile. I'm sure this was just to sooth the hyperliteral sci-fi people in the audience, not that there's anything wrong with that, but you know I don't roll like that, so it seems unbelievably silly at this point. I kept wanting to tap them on the shoulder and be like, "Fucking GOD. Blew up the SUN. She saw GOD. He blew out her EYEBALLS. Mysterious WAYS, dude. Just let it GO." But you're not me, so here's the official word: Another nova. "Seen 4,000 years ago, around about when the Temple might have been built. It's 13,000 light years from our present position. It's a cloud of gas known as the Ionian Nebula." They stare and think about how fucking coincidental everything is all the time and how even like space dust and little forest creatures are like, "Psst, Earth is totally two blocks over that way, to the 7-11." Adama fills that in and meanwhile, in more interesting stuff that wasn't obvious last episode, Helo's wigging out about the diagram of the Eye, which he didn't see at any point because he was too busy shooting his wife and crying about it. Always pointing fingers, that Helo, like some kind of postapocalyptic Pelosi.
Starbuck's lying on bunk with the giant mittens of TV burn victims and Helo -- have I mentioned today how awesome these two are together? Not just the way the characters are written, which is brilliant, but also the way they're so members of the same unit all the time, best friends, like when she had a gun to Helo's then-girlfriend's head and he was like, "Whoa, harsh!" and she just completely freaked out and he was like, "Dude, bro." I don't understand how they don't get more scenes together, with this awesome chemistry and totally bizarre thematic disconnect. If you think about the storylines, they are practically on different shows. Guess that explains it. However... "So Starbuck, tell me, is that what you gotta do to get a little extra rack time around here?" She cocks an eyebrow and asks if he's just there to mess with her. He kind of stutters around asking if she's got any octagonal pictures of her apartment on Caprica, a.k.a. the awesomest set on this whole show not taking place in Imaginary Crazyland. Although both sets share the same music, I guess, since God and Kara's dad are both Philip Glass. (Spoiler! Heh.) She flounces her burn victim/Mickey Mouse hands around and smiles, pointing toward a cigar box (of course) on the top shelf in her locker. "Hope you and Sharon aren't planning on redecorating, 'cause you're not gonna get any bright ideas from my old place." (We haven't seen the angle on this yet, have we, when Kara was being a normal human being, but I'm not surprised she calls her "Sharon." First to hate, first to forgive. I love Kara Thrace.) He laughs, comparing her apartment to a particularly untidy -- yet awesome -- train wreck. He brings up her old paintings, and she scoffs: "What about 'em?" He goes very still.
Props to the eagle-eyed posters who noticed this, because I honestly thought you were blowing smoke, and I'm right now very impressed. Not as impressed as Helo, who holds out two octagonal pictures: one, a grainy Chief shot of the Eye, and the other a painting from her apartment, last seen precisely 4,000 years ago before anything happened, seems like. "This? Was on the Temple. Where'd you get the idea to paint yours?" A new, scary, demonic, terrifying, velvet-rich, minor-key, mysterious and sad and scary exciting song begins. One we've never heard before. One which makes me very effing nervous, because it's introduced so forcefully it's a bet that we'll be hearing it all through 3.5, which makes me scared because of what happens . She blows it off: "I don't know. It was just something I've been doodling since I was a kid, I liked the pattern." She looks away. "They built the Temple 4,000 years ago," he says, staring hard, and she gets so fucking weird you wouldn't believe it. Even the song is like, "Yikes, dude." He asks what's wrong, and Kara can barely say his name, choking on it. Brokeback. "Just something... Leoben... said once." Disgusted, and afraid, and somewhere there's something unlocking: "That I had a destiny, that it had already been written."
Kara fought every rule Adama brought down, because she knew she could get away with it. She fought Garner outright. The only person she's ever obeyed unthinkingly is Roslin, and the only person she's ever respected is Cain. (Think about mommies, think about daddies.) The second thing Leoben ever told her was that she was afraid to be a mother; she resisted, he broke her. The third thing Leoben ever told her was that she would love him; she resisted, case pending. But the first thing Leoben ever told her was this. She fought Adama and she fought Garner. If this were Lee, telling her this, she could blow it off. But Karl's her best friend, now that Kat's gone: he's just Lee without all the power games and sex stuff, leaving only love and respect and friendship. He's the only one that could get to her with this, so it had to be him. This is God talking now: and if God's male, she's screwed. It's horrifying, to have that come back around on her now. When she's burned off so much of what didn't work already; when they've taken away her hands. The only thing scarier than this, on the big board, would be if you got all Hera's parents in a room (Laura and Bill, Sharon and Karl, Gaius and Caprica, Chip Six and Chip Gaius), flipping out simultaneously. That's literally the only thing that could shake the show this bad, and it's Helo saying this. I got really cold the second he pulled out the photograph; the music did the rest.
Three wakes gasping in a resurrection pod, on fire with the rapture. Brother Cavil holds her hand tenderly, talking her through it. "You know the drill. Long, deep, controlled breathing." She looks at him, gripping his hand, smiling madly, full of love and things you can't say without sounding like the hybrid, or a Doctor Who recap. "At least you'll never have to go through this again," he says sweetly, and she smiles up at him. "The decision wasn't easy, but the conclusion was inevitable. Your model is fundamentally flawed." Her smile almost falters, but is buoyed by love, and a terrible wonder. "No," she says, looking up. "It's not a flaw to question your purpose. Is it? To wonder who programmed us, the way we think and why?" It's the purpose of existence, of course, but that's not how Brother Cavil rolls. "Well, that's the problem right there," he says, still holding her hand. "The messianic conviction that you're on a special mission to enlighten us. Look at the damage it's caused." She looks at him with infinite love. "I would do it all again." He nods. "We know. That's why we've decided to box your entire line." She's horrified; she's the martyred seeker. "Your consciousness, memory, every thought your model ever had, are going into cold storage," he exposits. "Indefinitely." She smiles at him, still in rapture. "One must die to know the truth. There are five other Cylons, Brother. I saw them." He looks down at her in pity; she looks up in wonder and love. They're both right. "One day, you're gonna see them too," she whispers. "One day." He says goodbye, lets go her hand as she calls him brother, presses a button on a small metallic device, pulls her USB. "Brother," she says, and goes dark. Dies forever. He pockets the device, still wearing his wonderful hat, stands up from the chair at her side, and walks away, shoulders slumped.
All across the gallery, a hundred, a thousand Cavils stand up and walk away from a thousand pods, as we pull back, away from the light and into the darkness. They look so much alike.