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Just like happens in the back half of every season, the crew of the Galactica freak out and start eating each other the second they don't have anything to look forward to. Now that Laura's given up her cancer meds, she's literally running around the ship like a maniac, full of beans and wild oats and basically everything that is not poison. She also could care less that the Fleet is coming down around their ears, because girlfriend is done. Bill's at a loss watching all this go down, but she eventually convinces him that not only does she have every right in the world to spend her last days not barfing up poison, but he could stand to take a load off, too. And yes, they are frakking, and yes, it is super awesome.
Second only to this in awesomeness is the revelation that Hera is still the only Shape Of Things To Come, since Cally continues to suck hilariously from beyond the grave. Nicky's dad is actually Brendan "Hot Dog" Costanza, and not Galen at all, which means not only is he a weird-looking kid, but he can't even blame it on being half-Final Fiver. Galen doesn't get to give any more speeches about how she smelled like cabbage, but he does spend the entire time trying to reverse his pronouns and remember he's a Cylon and totally into doing Cylon shit and reading Cylon books and going to Cylon rock and roll shows, even though he's the least Cylony Cylon of all the Cylons.
Caprica and Saul's baby is coming along swimmingly, although a reminder that their child represents the future of the entire Cylon race doesn't sit well with Nurse Ishay. Which leads into Zarek, once again, pulling Jenga on the Fleet and trying to tear everything apart, because Zarek, once again, can feel the public pulse better than even Gaius Baltar, and knows that our friendship with the Cylons -- now that we're not getting anything out of it, like the Hub or Earth -- is suddenly offensive again. Then Lee fraks up and tells the fourth estate that they don't need to know who the Final Cylon is, because they don't know anything about the Final Cylon... And finishes up lamely saying "she's" dead anyway.
Zarek manages to get the Quorum on his side, and they pass some toaster-hating legislation, hamstringing Lee and bringing Bill into a place where he pretty much can't use military force to stop Zarek from stirring everybody up. So that's when he starts threatening Zarek with death and blackmail and whatnot, which kind of proves Zarek right.
Also down with toaster hateration is Felix Gaeta, who recently (we know from the webisodes) was forced to confront the fact that more of his fifth column activities in the New Caprica administration ended in the deaths of prominent Colonials than not. He tells Kara that he's going to kill her ass for no reason whatsoever, threatens the President and Admiral, and ends up starting a terrorist posse of his very own, shaking on it with Zarek and apparently intending to bring down the entirety of human civilization. I would hasten to remind you also that not only did he just lose his close friend Dee to the crushing existential dread that is life without parole, but he has always been a miserable little shit.
week, everybody continues to freak out except for Bill and Laura, who have invented Florida and moved there using the power of their minds. Oh, and Saul and Bill get blown all to hell.
Ciscuss this episode in our forums, and see what vlogger Sean Crespo thinks of BSG when he has No Prior Knowledge! And check back week for the full recap! Want more? The full recap starts right below!Nine days after the world ended, Bill Adama wakes up with a cramp in his neck, paperwork across his lap, glasses still on, bed lamp shining down. He checks his watch and curses; he takes a pill and groans. He turns on the shower while he brushes his teeth, thoroughly, somehow both absent-minded and single-minded at once. His uniform is perfectly pressed. He sits alone in his quarters, signing documents, the very model of an Admiral: very quiet, very alone. When the morning's paperwork is finished, he coughs and strides to the library shelves to choose a book at random and hear what it is saying.
The old prophecies don't work anymore, if they ever did; the Gods aren't talking. Or when they talk, they lie. Best to just listen at random, spin through the dial like Kara, looking for a frequency. Maybe today the books will offer a little bit of hope. He chooses a book, an eight-sided volume of Dickinson, turns a few pages, and reads. It's not comforting.
There is a Languor of the Life
More imminent than Pain --
'Tis Pain's Successor -- When the Soul
Has suffered all it can --
It's about death: about the sleep and darkness that comes over you when you've been hurt too many times to stand, about all the different freedoms that arise when we give over our need to survive. It's not comforting, but at least it's not a lie. The most heartbreaking part about the story of the foxes was the implication that they had a choice. That they were acting logically, not moved by grief and loss and pure animal terror. That it wasn't just three different forms of running away. Bill moves through the corridors of Galactica, picking up mute garbage and paper trash as he goes, welcoming the day.
Something moves in the deep, and they can't see it. Characteristically, Saul grumbles while Caprica thinks she can see it, clearly, for a moment, before it goes away again. Ishay thought she saw it, but now she can't. Cottle tells them all to shut the frak up for a second, and the image goes still. "Got it." Ishay can see it; Caprica can finally see it. Her eyes go wet with joy, and tears speak in her throat: "I can see it! Oh my God, there it is. It's so beautiful." Tigh still can't see anything, so Cottle tells him to try looking with his eyes... "Eye." Never gets old, does it? The four of them stare down at the ultrasound machine, smiling and happy for a moment. "Here, Colonel," says Nurse Ishay: "See, this is the head... shoulder... and there's a little hand..."
"I'll be damned," says Saul, and takes Caprica's hand in his. She wears a white gown, under the harsh lights of sickbay she looks like an angel. "It's our baby, Saul. Our baby!" She's always loved children most. God and children. "I need a drink," Tigh grits, for lack of a better response, and Cottle offers him a cigarette. They light up together. Ishay shoots them a look, protective of the young mother, the old woman; of the oldest person in the room, and the youngest.
"Look at that, Saul. Do you know what that is really? That's the future of the entire Cylon race." That's how young Caprica is; Ishay looks up and everything changes. She stops being a mother and starts being something altogether more troubling. Tigh flirts: "Kid doesn't even have a name yet and already loading up on the expectations..." But Caprica shakes her head. "All he has to do is be born. No Cylon-Cylon pairing has ever produced a child. Ever." She grins up at him, sexy: "Believe me, it's been tried." What he means, then, is that it's possible for the Cylon nation to survive without resurrection.
When they gave up the Hub, they thought the clock started ticking its 33 for them all, but this child means they have the same chance as the Colonies. Not better, like before, and not worse, like lately. Finally, equals: they gave up immortality, and have been rewarded with reproduction. Saul sighs with the enormity, as Ishay gets more and more uncomfortable, to the point that Cottle sends her off for a fetal monitor. "I want to work up a complete biophysical profile on this, uh ... savior." She toddles off, bewildered.
Ishay opens one curtain, then another, to reveal Felix Gaeta sitting angrily on a cot, stump hanging out like a finger. She apologizes to him, promising the doctor won't be much longer. "No problem. At least the Cylons are having fun, right?" His hate, now, spreads anywhere it can, like flowers looking for the light, like Laura's ugly, spiky earth flower. He stares at the new family as they laugh, and Cottle shakes his head: "I mean... Earth's a cinder, Dee's dead, suicides are up, Fleet's a mess, President's missing in action... But hey, gotta make sure the Cylons are taken care of." She gives him an ointment for his prosthetic, and he complains that the armature itself needs to be refitted. It rubs against him all the time, with every step.
Ishay promises that he'll get in as soon as she can do it, but it's been crazy. People keep running in with crazy problems, like right now: Chief, with little Nicky in his arms, terrified. "He's peeing blood!" Ishay directs him to another bed, and Gaeta gets bumped again, and Cottle shouts for the fetal monitor, and Gaeta rubs his head. "Can't keep those toasters waiting!" he says, and she shrugs and takes off; when she's gone, even the bitter mordant smile on his face is erased and turned to naked, broken hate.
Playa Palacios calls out for the Admiral, above the fourth estate throng, and asks whether Colonel Tigh is still serving as Executive Officer, and whether he's concerned about having a Cylon as second-in-command. "I'm not gonna discuss military protocol or chain of command," he assures her. Seku down in front asks if it's true, that they're contemplating forming a permanent alliance with the rebel Cylons currently in the Fleet. "I'm not gonna talk about hypotheticals." Why do they even let him come to these things? I don't think he's ever once given an answer that didn't go, "I'm not going to talk about that newsworthy thing you were just so classless as to ask me about, even though I totally know the answer to your question."
Seku asks Vice President Zarek if he'd support that, and Tom takes a gooooood long time answering him: Playa stares, Lee stares; Tom can't even meet Bill's eyes. "No comment." Playa is incensed by all this screwing around, and asks where the hell Roslin is. "The President is resting comfortably aboard Galactica," Lee says, as though that shouldn't be weird for anybody. These people get martial law declared on them every ten minutes, when they're not being put in internment camps, and you're like, "She's completely left the seat of government and will now be hanging out with the military full-time, okay?" I propose a little game: every time somebody does something, unwittingly or no, that seems likely to rend asunder even the provisional amount of sanity the Fleet is managing to hold onto, drink. What's really fun about this game is that the entire cast is also playing.
"Last question?" Seku asks if they have any info on the fifth Cylon; since the Dylan Four and the 268s are living it up all over areas of command and have the free run of the Battlestar, it's a worthwhile question. Like Lee might just go, "Yes, he's standing right here, and he's the VP!" Which honestly might turn out better than what Lee does say, which is, "Uh, we believe the fifth Cylon to be dead... We believe she died some time ago..." He stops short right there, but the damage is done. The reports freak out: "She? How do you know it was a woman?" Drink! Lee smiles and runs away from the press conference so fast you can hear Sonic the Hedgehog music.
Afterwards, Lee and Zarek are both freaking out about that little misstep, but Adama tells them to shut up. And honestly, why not just say "The fifth Cylon was the late wife of Saul Tigh, who died on New Caprica just like so many of our loved ones"? Sometimes these dudes are too secretive for their own good, I guess, or there's a compelling reason to keep her identity a secret. Maybe on the off chance that she'll come back, and we'd have no way of knowing what her agenda was. Even before she was dead and a Cylon, her agenda made you nervous.
Zarek superciliously informs Lee and Bill that a permanent alliance between this government and (any) Cylons is out of the question, "I hope you both know that," and Lee reminds him that it's not his call. I would also remind him that he is a douchebag who has done more on more occasions to endanger the Fleet than anybody but the Cylons, and the only reason he's not sucking vacuum is because Laura still likes him. And I guess there's a sort of lovable old-person naïveté to his narrative, like, the Black Panther rhetoric and how completely oblivious he is to his own self-importance, the selfishness of his idealism, are spot-on adorable, and I hear "Suicide Is Painless" whenever he starts talking his self-aggrandizing bullshit, et cetera. But he also gets people killed, and has no problem killing people with his own hands, and he took over the black market, and often seems to be fomenting revolution for no reason other than the fact that he sees the opportunity to do so, and hopefully end up on top. Or because he can't think of anything better to do.
Zarek snots at them some more about a variety of subjects, and finally makes one salient point: the delicious non-coincidence of how Laura disappeared from the public eye the second her prophecies and religious mandate were proven false. Which is a very good point, although it doesn't mean what he thinks it means. She's so far beyond political embarrassment, which is something Tom won't ever understand, because like most martyrs he manages to make even selflessness incredibly selfish.
But of course he would see it like that -- a retreat from fame, rather than the paralysis of shame -- because he can't conceive of what we mean when we talk about the body of each tribe's leader. It's still about power, possession rather than stewardship, and there's always going to be something ugly behind even the brightest rhetoric when it comes down to that. My favorite moment of this whole episode is the end, when Bill calls him on it, because of the many ways in which activism for its own sake is an unending cycle of worthlessness that feels too good to stop. He threatens Bill directly ("If you try to shove an alliance with the Cylons down our throats, there'll be consequences, Admiral. I promise you") and Bill thanks him for the signed and embossed invitation to fuck him up.
39,644 survivors, after Dee's death and Felix's trip to hell. Adama takes another pill, his neck still hurts, and it's about to hurt a lot more because there's a pain in it and that pain is named Felix, who is here on Saul's invitation from the very end of the webisodes. (To recap the recap: Felix figured out that he'd served up hundreds of influential prisoners for death on New Caprica, went totally insane because he already knew that and was just in denial; stabbed Gaius that time because Gaius already knew it before he could accept it; stabbed a girl, broke up with his boyfriend, got hostile and racist with Saul, continues to be a miserable little shit, and is now at this meeting.)
Galen announces that it's been decided on the rebel Baseship that they'd rather take their chances with the Fleet than risk running into Cavil's forces alone, just like Adama figured during his big rousing speech last week. Tigh laughs at Galen for throwing "we" all around the place when he's the least likely Cylon of the twelve, and Galen's like, "Um, yes we, as in you are also part of this we, no matter who else you are in addition to that." Bill's like, "Ladies, please. Less of this, more technobabble." Galen obliges; basically it comes down to replacing all the FTL drives with Cylon technology, which has always been better at things like math and science, because they are robots. Lee worries about selling this concept to the Quorum -- "Frak the Quorum," Tigh says, which honestly he would say no matter what the context, because he hates them and because he says it about once an episode -- and Lee's like, "Well, we could storm them one by one and upgrade them at gunpoint. That sounds fun too." Actually, Leland, that sounds like Microsoft.
So what'll it take to get the Quorum to sign off? First, Lee wonders whether they can do the upgrades with Galactica personnel only. Galen rankles at this, but I don't see why, because he's not being specific: It's one thing to accept Cylon technology. It's quite another to have actual Cylons aboard their ships." Except first of all, half of Galactica personnel is Cylon, dude, and second of all, as Galen points out, if humans were smart enough to build this technology, they already would have. "We are gonna need teams of Sharons and Sixes, possibly Leobens, just to do the installations." Felix is grossed out, but I don't have time for that, because I know that there's a lesbians/lightbulbs-type joke in there somewhere. I just know it.*
Helo's cute haircut is like, "We just gotta be more awesome, then! Sell them on the benefits! Accentuate the positive!" Which are that the upgrades, according to Athena, would triple the Fleet's jump capacity. Way to bury the lead, guys. Galen says even this is conservative: "Their technology -- our technology -- is way ahead of ours. [Thinky face] ...Yours." Tigh jokes that Galen needs a chart to keep it all straight. (I wish those What The Frak people would make another version at the end of the season, just to have that line in there. Ordinarily I would say that line should go in an advertisement, but the ads for this show are even more depressing and portentous than the recaps, so I don't think that's likely. Mostly I like the line because it distracts you from the fact that Galen Tyrol has officially become Sharon Valerii with that line, so now they can finally be together. And they can live door to Karl and Athena and trade recipes and magic baby highjinks, just like in the sequels of The Parent Trap.) Lee says yes, thanks for burying the lead, but tripling FTL capacity is indeed a good selling point when what you're selling is FTL upgrades.
*(Question: "How many Cylons does it take to bring God's love to an innocent human?"
Answer: "Sixteen: Eight to make out with him, Six to snap his neck, and Two to tell him how this is all his fault anyway.")
"What's the catch?" Felix meows bitchily from the corner. "Because there is a catch. Right, Former Chief?" (Aww. He's always going to be the Chief, Former Leg-Having Guy.) "We want to be part of the Fleet, not just along for the ride. Full members, citizens' seat at the Quorum, the whole thing." Even Helo is like, "Girl, no." Saul asks if Galen has actually gone crazy, and Chief's like, probably. "It's non-negotiable. You want Cylon technology, we want safety in case Cavil's forces arrive. Now, if we're citizens, your oath states that you protect us just like everybody else." HA! Because you are doing so awesome at that!
I like how complex and shifting the agendas are, even at this early stage -- because really, this is the season premiere for all intents and purposes -- like how if the humans hadn't bullied Natalie's crew into giving up the Hub, they wouldn't really need protection now, or how the discovery that the Final Five are A) basically human and B) not that awesome, not to mention the bullshit that is Earth, means all they've really got now is the Fleet. For the first time, they can find a joy in life itself, instead of the plan or the glorious abnegation of will Cavil preaches. They're naked, and broken, and for the first time they can really see themselves.
Chief confirms for Lee that they're very intense about this, because they're Cylons and half the Plan is always waiting around for somebody to tell them what they can do so they can fuck it up. And now they want Bill Adama for their daddy, just like everybody else in the entire universe except Cavil, at this point. The Chief has thus convinced them that he takes this stuff very seriously: "That he would rather lose the Fleet than break the oath." Tigh grumbles, "Unlike certain other people," but I've thought about it and thought about it, and I don't know exactly what he means. The way Chief takes the hit and is like, "yes yes, unlike other people" made me think he was taking shit personal, like saying that Chief betrayed the oath of the Final Four sticking together, but no. And it's not about Chief going to the Basestar, because they still haven't told us he did that. It's not about the Cylons breaking their word, is it? Because they've only done that like three times. Now, granted, in each case humanity was decimated, or I guess novimated, and we can't forget that. On the other hand: they are big dumb machines full of love and destruction that won't leave you alone. They're like Cujo. Basically this entire show is Cujo.
So Chief is like, "Unlike certain other people, whatever you mean by that," and Bill is like, "I see exactly where the Cylons are coming from. I get it. I am also very drunk, though, so take that into account." Also: DRINK! That's going to bite you in the ass. It's also how we're going to live through this, but still. Jacob Clifton loves Bill Adama, but the number one reason I love him is that he's incapable of racism: he only ever gets mad at individual Cylons when they do shitty things. He'll yell at Boomer's corpse or smack Athena around, but otherwise he's always been cordial. The whole show is basically constellated around that fact: he doesn't like war and he doesn't like hate. Given the chance to pull a Cain, he never ever would, because that's not who he is. He's not the fox that runs away, but he's also not going to email you a genocide, unlike certain people. Even the hawk/dove stuff with Roslin has played out that way: she spent the last couple years clearcutting the forest to save the forest from deforestation, while Adama's on this constant cycle of tending these individual beautiful bonsai trees while the forest dies around him, then feeling bad about it and promising to be more like her, and then going back to being nice ten minutes later because he cannot help it.
Felix hisses and spits, and without looking Saul is like, "Hiss spit sir, cadet," and Felix accommodates him. I know that Saul was only nice to him in the webisodes to make the point that the gay thing is not a thing, but it earns their animosity in this scene in a delicious way, because a couple hours ago Felix was just like, "I'm going over your head, you wouldn't get it, it's a human thing," and now Tigh is like, "Give me a reason to mess you up. Remember that time Lee made me get drunk and throw up on my dead wife on the witness's stand, and I still managed to outclass you in that courtroom?" Bill assures Felix that all options are on the table, because they always are even when it's easier to pretend otherwise, and then passes the buck: "This is a political decision. I'll have to run it by the President." Only if you can catch her.
What's wrong with Nicky? "Acute renal failure. I think we caught it in time to manage with dialysis. However, there is a chance that this could lead to chronic renal failure. And if that happens, he's gonna lose a kidney." You know Cally had him on a strict trailer park Spam/Cheetos/Kool-Aid diet, and now that she's dead Galen's probably operating on sad bachelor pizza rolls, so it's hardly surprising. Galen chokes back tears and takes a moment before asking what the step is. "What do I do? Do I, uh, give some blood? Build up a supply?" Ishay assures him, without thinking, that they have enough of Nicky's blood type in store. "He's half-Cylon," Galen says over Cottle's loud nervous swallowing and Ishay's hollow stares. "You got a lot of half-Cylon blood just lying around, do you?" Cottle's all, "My bad, good point." He starts to make plans about drawing Galen's blood, and finally Ishay's like, "Dude, just tell him." My heart skipped a beat! Can it be true?
Ishay's like, "This little boy could die. His father should know!" Which is nicely ambivalent, but Cottle knows Galen's a smart guy, and tells her to STFU, but too late. Galen gets very worried, and Cottle's like, "Cancel my appointments and schedule your own whipping, Jamie Bamber's Wife. Now I gotta deal with this." He drags Galen away and -- after some preliminary foreshadowing -- delivers a hilariously hamfisted bolus of retcon exposition. I am all for fixing up the whole Nicky issue, because it's always been a nitpicker's filthy dream, but I thought the solution would have a lot more finesse. Frankly, I thought the kid was dead meat, but this is much better. The words are just so hilarious, because Cottle's always been sort of darkly phoning it in, so this dialogue that would be difficult at best just comes slamming out of his grimace in the most appalling, awesome set of first-draft sentences in the whole episode, answering every nerdy nitpicky question before it can be asked like he's giving a talk at the Paley about "The Nicky Deal: Once & For All." audition, I dare you to do this monologue:
"All right. This is gonna be a shock. But I want you to know that I was bound by doctor-patient confidentiality in this. Even though she's dead now, it still applied. I'm sorry, she found out she was pregnant just before you got married. She wasn't sure that you were the father. She wanted me to terminate the pregnancy. The procedure is illegal but there are ways around it. However, she decided to keep it. Then later on, she asked me to do a paternity test because she wanted to know... [Biological father] doesn't know either. And I'll be damned if he's gonna find out that he's a father from a pissed-off former deck chief with a Cylon chip on his shoulder. No, I'll have to tell him. I'll tell him, and then the two of you can work it out on your own. [Galen runs off to freak out about how bad his wife sucks even from beyond the grave; Cottle lights his fifth cigarette of this paragraph] ...Great."
Whom might it be? Obviously the best would be another Cylon, but that's not possible. As likely as it is, anybody from Pegasus would just leave a nasty taste in your mouth that even Cally doesn't deserve. So in the Fleet, I actually would have said Hotdog, because he is as dumb and pretty as she is, and because he gets STDs constantly and likes to watch people masturbate, making him the only pilot outside the main cast besides Racetrack to have any kind of sex life at all. Plus, he is nice to look at, and has never had a real storyline ever. Mostly, though, because he is very dumb, and that is very funny. If Saul and Caprica's baby is the most Cylon thing that ever existed, Nicky is the most human. A Hotdog/Cally baby would be, like, mystical amounts of stupid. The Shape Of Things To Dumb.
This episode is so interesting, because it manages to be only character moments, while still feeling like plot cartilage. Remember that episode where Roslin kept having flashbacks to Gaius making out with Caprica in public? I know for a fact that things happened in that episode, important things, but I'll be damned if I can remember what they are. That's how this episode feels: like a pivot point. There are lovely things in it, some really great transitions and some bizarre perseverating angles (ten minutes of an ultrasound that made me think my TV was acting out, ten minutes of Adama brushing his dentures at all hours), and some real subtleties in terms of how often what people are talking about is not what they are actually talking about (Felix and Kara's upcoming scene is like a black-and-white negative of what they're actually doing, while still mirroring several past scenes on the show), which is my favorite thing.
But it's also about two other things that this show does well: daddy issues, and making broken stuff work instead of needing them to be shiny and new. Every scene in this episode is about fathers, how they let you down and how whining about that is not the point, even when it's Bill. And we talked a lot about this last season, how "fixed" is not the same as "unbroken," and that really seems to be the driving force of this very last arc: once you acknowledge that all we have is rough spots, it's about sacking up and getting it done anyhow. Turkeys dragging Vipers was just the beginning, and now the show that started with a Butlerian Jihad against wifi is talking about putting Cylon FTL into the Fleet. (The only time we've ever seen the other side of the universe was on a Basestar, in Jump. Think about that! What if everybody starts networking with God when they jump?)
But also: sucky Earth was the ultimate sign that there's no good fix for anything, ever, just all of us trying our best to get somewhere better. If True Blood taught me anything, that's it: the second you find the answer, it stops being the answer, and if you don't figure that out and keep moving, you are going to screw yourself over really bad. The only hope that really kills you is the last one, so you'd better come up with something else fast. There comes a point where you realize that finding joy in spite of (not instead of) being naked and broken is the absolute best you can hope for.
Adama assures Lee that the President is just going through a rough patch, and will return his calls someday when she's not freaking the hell out. His belief that this moment is coming, and soon, is very compelling. Lee finally gives in, but reminds his dad that she's going to need to take a position on the Thirteenth Colony thing PDQ. He leaves, and Bill calls her quarters.
The phone rings, and she ignores it, laying out her pills one by one. She's wearing her wig and ignoring the phone. Six little piles. She looks at the wall for awhile, wondering which is braver, and then tosses her little piles in the trash. She stands very still, and then knocks a bottle off the table, then all the bottles, until her desk is empty. She raises a glass of water and drinks it down, and breathes, and takes another drink, and smiles to herself: Things are about to get very good.
Laura stretches against Bill's wall in gym gear and kerchief, smiling and groaning with it. "If we can sway public opinion towards us -- or, at least not against us -- he thinks that Zarek and the Quorum can be handled." Laura verbally shrugs that he's probably right, and laughs to herself about how stiff her body has become. She's opening up, like a flower. When she turns her back on him to stretch the other side, he asks when her treatment will be, and she rolls her eyes at herself for lying, too afraid to tell him the truth. He knows; on some level he knows she's lying when she says tomorrow.
"Good. Lee thinks -- and I agree with him -- that you should address the Fleet." Looking at her back, he can't see how terrified the words make her. "Make a public declaration that an alliance with the Cylons is critical for our long-term survival." Well, well. I didn't think Adama would flip on the Thirteenth Colony so easily. No, I guess I did, but it's cool that he immediately just says it like that. Laura asks for more time, and starts doing her lunges. His tone changes. "We need you, Laura. I know that you're tired, but we need you." She knows what he means, and promises him she understands, and kicks him out. "Go!" she flirts, and he smiles, and asks her not to overdo it. She laughs, and says goodbye. The euphoria is hitting.
Adama walks past Marines hustling well-dressed prisoners, picks up some more trash outside the mess, and there's a nice little shot that pulls back to where Kara is sitting, not hungry, with the headache that can only come when you've found and burnt your own corpse under cover of night without telling anybody. Felix sits down and she tells him straight up she's not in the mood for his bullshit, and he gets even more hostile immediately, so she drops her fork and tells him to bring it on. He mentions the Circle, how she tried to toss him out an airlock, and she's all, "Still crying about that?" Seriously. He's not even upset about that anymore. This is so lame, but also: not actually what's happening. He's just using her natural inability to cope with bullshit against her.
She asks for the punchline, and here it is: "The charges at the time were 'collaborating with an enemy in a time of war.' It turns out the jury that convicted me was made of two Cylons and a woman married to a Cylon." That joke needs work, Felix. She slams the table, sick of all this crap when all she wants to do is rest and get some answers that don't involve her being the Harbinger of Death, and everybody looks. Mission accomplished. For a trained opera singer, Felix has a real flair for drama. She plays right into it, every button lovingly pushed in the time it took to knock Cally up.
"Are we done? Oh, no, wait. I'm sorry, I forgot. We haven't gotten to the leg yet." Gaeta turns his body to the audience, opening their conversation up to them even more. "Fifty billion people are dead, and I'm supposed to give a frak about your leg?" Perfect: "Who killed those fifty billion people, Kara?" Um, not me? "No, it was your husband." Kara asks if this is how he's getting his (half) kicks these days, because she still can't see what he's doing. She doesn't enjoy doing this, but she thinks it's emotional processing for him, with the leg and the near-death and whatever. Dee. She has no idea he's gone so dark there aren't even any running lights; she doesn't know he found and burnt his own corpse, under cover of night, without telling anybody. "What was Sam doing on Caprica before he so conveniently met you? You ever wonder?" Ask Jane Espenson this spring, because Felix isn't even talking to Kara anymore: she's just the apostrophe for the speech he always meant to give.
"You think maybe he... nuked a few cities? Executed a few thousand prisoners? I'm just wondering. Well then again, maybe you're a Cylon too." A button he doesn't even know she had to push. She shoves back again, going to the leg, quips failing. If you belong to a group that has real bad, hurtful words associated with it, the kind of sticks-and-stones words that you try not to feel when you hear them, then you know that at some point somebody will say that word to you. Not out of actual hate, but just out of the desire to hurt you, striking anywhere, gloves off. When your vision goes red and apocalyptic and your need to hit back overrides all your good-person training, and you resort to the lowest common denominator. And if somebody says one of those words to you, you have the option of letting it go, and saying, "I know you only said that word because you are incredibly angry and out of control, not because you have this secret deep-seated hatred of what I am categorically." But you can't ever really be friends with them the same way, once that wall falls down. And I feel like the leg jokes are just that: she's seeing red, and instead of snapping his neck like she should, she has just enough control to hit him in the amputee place, over and over again, begging him to stop.
"At least I'm not a gimp," she says, drawing a line through exactly one thing on a list of infinite possibilities. She doesn't know what she is, but she's got two legs. He has no idea what he's doing, really. He's accomplishing what he came in here to accomplish, which is to start an army of terrorists, but he's also accomplishing stuff he doesn't even know about yet. "One day. One day soon, there's gonna be a reckoning, Kara. And once again people are gonna have to answer for what they've done." Kara grins, repeating Zarek's line from the beginning of the episode just like Adama will repeat that "reckoning" line of Felix's later: "You know where to find me, Felix."
I love those weird parallels there: Kara and Tom suddenly, Felix and Bill suddenly, for a second. The population is so dense and the stakes are so high that the revolutions are turning right before they even start. Things are turning into their opposites before they're born: Tom's idealism is Felix's nihilism is Kara's alienation is Laura's abdication is Gaius's apostasy is Lee's diplomacy is Bill's undying, all-inclusive hope. Spin the dial and see how they line up. Follow them through, and see how they add up to disaster. Naked, a little bit broken. Breakable still.
She stands up easily, and gets in his face. "And in case you're wondering, I will definitely hit a cripple." And playing it exactly wrong, exactly the way he wanted, better than he could have hoped, she addresses the whole room: "Or anyone else." He's overjoyed to see her going, and drops one more bomb, just to chase off the last of the stragglers and play to the cheap seats: "So I guess a pity frak's out of the question, then?" The kind of people he wants will laugh; the kind of people he doesn't will leave. And they do, and they do, and when it's done he's formed an army. "Somebody close that hatch. Let's talk."
Then comes the best Zarek scene ever, because he's so good at what he does, and because this is one time where he's just right. About all of it. There's one admirably creepy Frank Luntz semiotics deal where he keeps repeating the phrase "Roslin/Adama Administration" the way Republicans do, to accumulate vague and various connotations of fucked-upness, but I can respect that. Especially since it does about sixty things at once, including bringing in the historical Adama Privilege and reminding everyone that he is the hostile shadow cabinet version of a Vice President: It's not Roslin/Adama, it's Roslin/Zarek, so it sounds wrong to your ear, so they focus on why, and the why is the crux of the point, which is that Roslin and Adama -- any old Adama -- will always usurp and consolidate power. Why, look, they've even done it to the Quorum Chairman, he's saying. I'm on your side, he's saying, without ever saying it. Brilliant. So here's his speech, under the guise of a motion, and no matter how many sad little pouty faces Lee makes, every word is true.
"In prison, you start to confuse your hopes and dreams with reality. You start to believe that because you want something to happen -- parole, a pardon, appeal, a writ -- you start to believe that it will happen. You live on wishes. The way things should be, instead of the way they are. And all because you can't face reality. The leaders of this Fleet are succumbing to wishful thinking because they can't face reality. And the reality is that the Roslin/Adama administration... Has led us nowhere. Earth was a mirage, a fantasy they dangled in front of us for four long years in order to maintain power. A fantasy they dreamed up as a way to hold on and control the government over the democratic wishes of the population. So now what is our feckless and dispirited leadership doing to solidify their position, after failing us so miserably? Turning to the Cylons -- the Cylons -- for help. Aren't the Cylons the reason we're out here in the first place? Aren't they the enemy? Or are they suddenly our friends, if that helps keep Roslin/Adama in power?"
He's already won, but Lee prissily reminds him that this is a motion, not a filibuster, and Tom's like, "Fine. The chair moves that any decision on allowing Cylons to board any ship in this Fleet be made by the Captain and the people living on that ship, and not the Roslin/Adama administration." Lee pleads for unity, to stand together, which just makes it worse, because as far as Tom and the Quorum are concerned, that's exactly what they're doing. I can't blame them for that either. They know more than the Fleet and the press, but not by much, and he only said true stuff. There was hardly any rhetoric in there at all, beyond some italics and a little bit of "Roslin/Adama Eat Babies" voodoo, but for Zarek who is naturally creepy, it was a demonstration of mighty restraint. Jacob Cantrell calls the question, Tauron seconds, and it passes 11 to 1. Lee runs away, the little man who stands against the mountains, and the delegates crowd toward the gavel, kissing his ass and shaking his hand. Lee meets his eyes across the room, and they both realize this simple thing is the thing that's going to change everything. Again.
Somebody runs unsteadily down Galactica's corridor; Adama dozes at his desk with a half-drunk cocktail nearby; the running person is Roslin, getting stronger as she runs; the phone wakes him from his stupor as she runs; he curses her and heads into the head to clean himself up and brush his teeth for another thirty minutes; the people stare silently as she runs by; she grins to herself, euphoric, as cold water runs down his face; he stares mutely into the mirror, toothpaste froth everywhere; she hits a junction and comes slamming around the corner, pushing officers and cute gay pilot couples out the way; he stomps to the junction and stands at the top of the steps, so she almost runs right into him. He looks like majestic, like a sentinel, and this is also an awesome thing about Bill: when he lets go and loses the plot, he will literally drool on you, but he also pulls it together faster than anybody I've ever seen.
Laura gasps and laughs, tagging him in the chest like he's the finish line. "It's a big ship!" she chuckles, and he asks if she did the whole thing. "Half. It's more than I've run in a long time." She's flushed, he says: she looks good. She thanks him, and he smiles that particularly scary "I've got you and I'm none too happy" vindicated smile. "You're not supposed to look good. You're supposed to be in sickbay with a tube in your arm." She wiggles around in the trap and says she changed her mind, but he knows better. She's like, "Send me to the brig! I can run there!" She's giddy, joking and crazy. She's never been really good at listening to her body, you know? If her body shows her seven serpents and the Arrow of Athena, then that's what she's going to do. And now her body is telling her, "Live, live, live." So that's what she's going to do. But that's not the whole story, because she also has a point. She always does, separate from whatever the drugs are doing to her.
"Cottle says you're experiencing a moment of euphoria as your body recovers from the toxicity of the treatments," he explains, and she wiggles around some more like a vaudeville performer. Every line in this scene, she's Tallulah Bankhead. "So much for doctor-patient confidentiality!" Adama points out that, in all actuality, the President's health is a security issue, and everybody slows down to stare. She throws her hands in the air, grinning: "My resignation will be on your desk in the hour!" When Bill complains that he is never going to hand the Presidency over to Tom Zarek, she blows him off. "Then the status quo will have to do!" She needs a little guy with a drumkit to follow her around when she's like this.
Bill's like, "Whatever, quit it. Zarek has turned the Quorum into Crazytown, the press gang is going nuts, there's no government to speak of. We need you, specifically." Laura tells him to take his frakking hands off her and explains who she has become today: "I've played my role in this farce. A dying leader will guide the people to the blah-blah-blah frakkin' blah-blah. I've been there, I've done that, now what? Is there another role that I have to play for the rest of my life?" She's only telling the truth too. There's not actually a good reason for her to be in charge anymore. They both deserve a rest. Especially Laura, especially now, when all her response to fear and pain has been to either get hard or curl up on the floor: to stop moving. The fact that she's running means the weight is off her back.
I mean, there's something to be said for not just pulling a tralalala, especially with Tom in the wings, but in theory she's totally right. Before we reached Earth, when Lee and Kara thought they were both dead, and I went on and on about chairs, that was the point: the Cylons weren't wrong about killing your parents, just disturbingly literal. They were gone for several episodes, having their adventures separately and together. Figuring out how to love each other, at the end of the world. If Bill and Laura had never come back from her jumpnapping, it would have been fine. The kids were all right. Why not now? I can't even say "Because of Tom and Felix and possibly Ishay's developing killer nurse tendencies," because Zarek's right about them, and basically feels like they need a rest too. I mean, he's been saying it before Kobol and you can't trust his motivations, but...
He doesn't know what to say, because he's Bill Adama: he honestly can't understand the difference between suicide and what she's doing. If he could, humanity would have been extinguished a long time ago. She shakes her head and tries another tack: "Do you remember what we said on New Caprica? How we talked about trying to live for today? Well, you better think about that, because maybe tomorrow really isn't coming. Maybe today is all we have left. And maybe... Just maybe I've earned the right to live a little before I die." She looks deeply at him, into him, begging him to understand. "Haven't I? What do you think? Haven't I?" Which is dirty pool, because especially Bill -- but once upon a time everybody, and me again just lately -- wants to give her the world. He breathes and admits she has. She has! "I have? Well, guess what. So have you." She darts in and kisses him sweetly. "Now get out of my way!" And she runs away again.
Cult: tape rolling out across the Fleet, cute haircut, blasted out of his mind. He's always been one to wing it, toss some words at it, a little bit of sex appeal. Never better than when he's drinking. It feels like we haven't seen him in months, which of course we haven't, and this scene is all too short. Also, is that Brent Spiner? I can so believe he would join the Baltar cult. Remember that awesome lady that was so in love with Brent Spiner that she got her specific apartment specifically so she could vibe at him from her balcony while drawing pictures of him? That's sort of how I feel about Gaius Baltar these days.
Especially as two things become clear: number one, he has lost not only the thread but interest in the thread, and number two, as usual, he's going to seriously fuck everything up without even slightly trying. Maybe this time worse than the first time, if you think about it. Yes, every scene is about fathers, disappointment in fathers, and yes, you can bring that to Adama's door and I'm sure everybody's about to, but only Gaius Baltar could give an disinterested extemporaneous sermon about his personal religious disaffection that results not only in a riot but also in accidentally aims the Fleet's murderously profound religious and cultural disappointment squarely at Bill's head. He's like the anti-Zarek. One more reason to love him.
"What manner of forgiveness are you seeking? Is it that of disobedient children? Are you... Are you children? -- Well, obviously you're a child, we have some children here, but -- To the rest of you, in your mind's eye, are you all just children who've transgressed against your father's divine will? Are you being punished for your multitude of sins? Are you? Is this really our lot? To have been led by a father to the Promised Land?"
I think it's Lilly who says no, they shouldn't have to suffer. He leans over, way over, losing the plot as he's sitting there, drunk and stuck in his own pain, unredeemed for the sixty-sixth episode in a row... (Holy shit, do you realize we're exactly as far from breaking ground on New Caprica as we were then from the Miniseries? That's brilliant. How do we measure badass? 33 minutes, around and around, and start the clock again: 33 episodes from the Holocaust to New Caprica and the Second Exodus, 33 episodes thence to Earth and the Third Exodus. That is AWESOME. This show is so fucking good.) Anyway, he sort of fades, and the hot one with extra Jesus in her boobs is like, "Just keep talking." It doesn't really matter what he says. All they want to do is connect. That's all he's ever wanted, too. As far back as Cuffle's Breath Wash, as far forward as wanting to be Cylon.
"...To Paradise... Only to have Paradise cruelly smashed to bits before our very eyes? Are these the actions of a father towards his children? No! It's not right!"
Galen stands at the back of the ground, like he often does, and reconsiders his stance on the Nicky thing. First, he will find the dad and beat the shit out of him for cutting this last tie to his humanity. Even after the memories came back on Earth, he still had Nicky; when Nicky got sick he wept. Then, he will get very drunk. Then, he will do the thing that Galen does best, which is fix things. Naked and broken, he can still do that. He can keep going.
Gaius pulls it together completely, rising up again among them, warming to his subject. "What have you done? What have you done to deserve this punishment? What sins have you committed?" Out over the PA, the Fleet listens in. This is the part they like best: the absolution. Whether or not it's God that loves you and made you perfect, or somebody telling you that you deserve better than what God's handed you, both stories come out of the same mouth. That's all they really want. Never mind the self-preservation that is Gaius's birthright, how he's turning the tide of their anger and doubt and disappointment in any direction at all, he doesn't care and barely knows he's doing it.
"What dark thoughts have you harbored that condemn you? Condemned you to wander through the universe without hope? Without light? So you have to ask yourself what kind of a father abandons his own children to despair and loneliness? Perhaps we are not the ones in need of forgiveness. Perhaps we're not. Perhaps we have been wronged! Perhaps it is God who should come down here, and beg for our forgiveness! Am I right? Am I right? Well, shout it to God! What have you done for me lately? Where have you been? There is a disease aboard this ship, and it is a disease of denial! Am I right? Well, don't tell me! Shout it to God!" Chief spots Hotdog across the crowd, and Hotdog immediately starts looking all sad and guilty and weird, and they push toward each other through the congregation, as they get more and more antsy, yelling back at Gaius, at God. At Bill Adama.
"Cottle told me," Hotdog protests, sad and worried for the Chief. "I didn't know. We need to... We should talk." Galen nods, and then BOOM. Not quite as far as Cally flew when Tory punched her, but pretty far, against a wall. Galen lands a bunch of punches, and when the crowd turns to watch and wonder what's up, Gaius doesn't really care enough to check it out. He just sits down to chill for a bit. They knock over an altar in their struggle; Gaius lights a cigarette. All he wants to do is lose himself in drinking and sex like always, and they keep fucking making him talk about God, and if he stops then they'll stop loving him, and he'll be alone again. But at least right now they have something else to look at.
"It's a Godsdamn uprising!" Saul yells as they head into CIC. Helo suggests, with all respect, that it's not there yet. "Ten of our ships refuse a direct order from the flagship," Saul screeches, "Another twelve won't even respond to our hails!" Felix unhelpfully points out that they're just exercising their right to refuse Cylon invasion, but that's not even the problem, so I'm not sure why he's even talking: Saul's talking about twenty-two ships openly dissing comms from Galactica. I think I'm actually with Saul on this one. Even if he's ordering them to take the jump drives, they could at least offer a simple "No thank you." Bill makes the call that jump drive upgrades are a military necessity, and therefore will go forward at the government's discretion. I also agree with this, because come on: if half the ships have FTL 3.0, and the other half don't...
Actually, you know what? Fuck it. Let them have this one. See you on the awesome planet we're going to find, hundreds of years from now, when you finally get there. I no longer sympathize with these ships that are taking a stand, no matter how justified you might think their superstition might be. This is just dumb. Bill's right, they should not have the option to do this. Lee should have pointed this out: "Okay, Cantrell, hope you enjoy living here in the middle of space forever. Seacrest out." Fix their wagon right quick.
So Felix pisses and moans about how Bill just superceded the Quorum's decision -- adding a wonderfully snotty "sir" with a glance at Tigh -- and Bill's like, "Actually, yes. This is my call. I was trying to be nice, but in fact I am in charge of the entire universe. You cool with that?" Felix Gaeta, you do not have a leg to stand on.
Oh, yes I did. Recently-dumped Hoshi with his new hot hair catches an emergency hail from the Marines on the tylium refinery Hitei Kan. I was all relieved that it wasn't Daru Mozu, of course, because of Danny Noon, until I remembered that one was blown up awhile back, and now there's only one tylium refinery, and he was always on Hitei Kan anyway. Daru Mozu was the one DEMAND PEACE frakked with. I hope he's hiding under a bed somewhere. But to be honest, I'm more freaked out about me, because when did I become this person?
("Hitei Kan? Oh, shit. But wait, what about Daru Mozu?" WTF are you talking about, Jacob. "Um, there are two tylium ships in the Fleet? Daru Mozu from the episode 'Epiphanies' and Hitei Kan from 'Dirty Hands'? Are you even a fan of this program? Do you even own a television set? Best. Tylium Refinery. Ever.")
Anyway, the crew is throwing a big old mutiny, so the alarms go off and Helo runs over to his little workstation on the bridge, and Hoshi tells us that they've killed a Cylon and two Marines. Over... What, exactly? This is stupid. I understand throwing a fit and all that, but murdering people who want to give you faster machinery? This is the same tylium crew whose lives and futures unto the seventh generation, by the way, were secured by a Cylon, whose stupid wife was being held against a bulkhead at gunpoint. On the other hand, this is very clever because we're now dealing with one of a very small number of absolutely necessary ships in the entire Fleet, so the whole Fuck It thing won't even fly. Like most things, this show is smarter than me.
Adama sauls to "scramble" the mardet (Marine detachment, I'm told) alert team and assault Raptor; I presume Saul "scrambles" them. Meanwhile, the ship is spooling up and dropping out of formation, so Bill hoshis them, and Hoshi's like, "This is a priority signal from Galactica actual to the... Current commander of your ship?" Like he's not sure of the protocol when you are dealing with this level of violent moron. Athena is in the Raptor, with I think Racetrack and Skulls and two accompanying Vipers, coming closer, when Hoshi notices that -- instead of answering his very polite hail -- they're talking to Colonial One.
Helo, for some reason, wonders aloud if they're talking to the President, and Bill just barely, I'd imagine, restraints himself from getting a stepladder and smacking him in the head. Really, Helo? That's the first person you think of at this time? Not the guy who set this whole thing up in broad daylight throughout the episode, no. Laura Roslin. Gotcha. On the wireless, the Hitei Kan fool is screaming about the Raptor and Vipers on his dradis, and then Tom Zarek is like, "They have no right to board your ship without your permission!"
Tigh gives a very eloquent "son of a bitch," but still. This is terrorism, and I'll tell you why: rights don't mean anything when it's actually happening. That's so Tom Zarek: "You don't have the right to punch me!" And yet, here I am punching you. Do you get it yet? "This is totally unfair!" Yeah, and yet. "I'm telling mommy!" The only reason he can even play this out at all is because it's the refinery, so he can afford to be like, "This is the hill we die on!" because there is no hill, nobody's going to die, they're just going to keep killing Marines until the Marines kill enough of them so they settle down, the end. It proves nothing, it means nothing, and the rights of the Hitei Kan to refuse Cylons onboard are not at issue in any way. The big splashy PR of how Roslin/Adama endangered the Fleet's fuel supply is the only aim here, and it's going down just perfectly. But it's inauthentic, because Tom Zarek is a fake corrupt bastard, and most importantly he's using Danny Noon as cannon fodder. And for that he must be destroyed. You had me and then you lost me, fucker.
"What should we do, Mr. Vice President?" Because he can't say the actual answer -- "Just keep doing what you're doing, until you're all dead" -- he tosses them some motherfucking platitudes: "Every citizen has the right to protect themselves from oppression." Felix stares and the darkness behind that bright rhetoric takes root, takes wing, takes hold on him: Hitei Kan is Tom's Kara Thrace. It doesn't matter what happens to it, as long as everybody sees. "Take whatever measures you think necessary." Of course, just as the Raptor's landing on top of it, it jumps away, and there's a cool shot of all three ships just drifting for a moment. Tigh's like, "So that's... All our fuel, then." And Bill goes, "You know, there are days that I really hate this job." Then he "scrambles" some more things or something, and tells Athena -- in a really cool, pretty angle inside the Raptor cockpit -- to board Colonial One and arrest the Vice President. And maybe fuck him up, and ... yep, go ahead and kill him if you feel like it. Feel like it, Athena. Feel great about it.
Hotdog stares down at Nicky, all, "I don't know anything about being a father." Especially to such a gigantic, dumb baby! "It sucks. Except for the parts that don't." Galen breathes, and puts a chair down for Hotdog. "All right. First lesson in parenting: Sit. Your kid's in the hospital, you never leave him alone, no matter what. Someone's always here. You get first shift... Dad." Hotdog gets very shivery about all this, and Galen assures him he'll be back, once he (drinks a bunch more and) sobers up.
Adama throws down a file in Zarek's cell. Old Tom's not looking too mutilated, damn Sharon Agathon's kind heart.
"Sworn statements. Transcripts of wireless conversations. Shipping records. All kinds of documents, really. Compiled over the last year with one theme. The buying and the selling of the Vice President's office." Zarek calls this extortion, and Bill goes all kind of Condy about how no, it's "about law and order," but whatever. "I believe that you would walk happily to the gallows, or languish in a cell for the rest of your life, if you could do it as a martyr to your cause. But the idea of being publicly humiliated as a corrupt politician, with your hand in the till? Well, that would scare you. Somehow I don't think that the legend and the myth of Tom Zarek, the political prisoner and a man of conscience, can survive the airing of that much dirty laundry." So much words! Zarek asks if he honestly thinks the Fleet is going to sit still for "a long and politically motivated trial" while Bill's busy allying himself with the Cylons, and Bill's like, "Bitch, you are the one that lost our tylium ship. We're not going anywhere, so they won't really have a choice. Plus, look how much fun Baltar's trial was last year."
Oh, man. Can you imagine Romo Lampkin and Tom Zarek having a conversation? I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.
The bluffs and double-bluffs and "I know that you know that I know that you know" of it all starts to get top-heavy about the time that Tom's gloating about how Bill's dumb for thinking he knows where the ship is, but of course Bill does actually know that, because they were wiretapping the ship at the time, so he cuts through the bullshit. Tom goes, "Why do you think I know?" And Bill goes, "Because I know that you do." The end, fool. Like, "We're not actually playing the 'I know that you know' game right now, I am looking you in the leathery slits you use as eyes and saying I actually know. I'm not playing any games." Except he totally is, because he doesn't even have this proof that Zarek's corrupt. I mean, we know he is, and Bill knows he is, and it's not even in a Gaius way where Lee could make you feel like a proudly sobbing American Boy Scout about it: Tom Zarek is gross. He is yucky. And Bill's got all the time in the world.
Not to mention he's also totally got Zarek's number, and can afford to be like, whatever, and walk out with the fake files sitting on the floor. Bill Motherfrakkin' Adama, sometimes, man... And since he's got nothing left, Zarek throws out a few more bullshitty stupid platitudes that might seem meaningful only if you are hopped up on goofballs in 1967, but which don't impress your kids and shouldn't impress you now: "You know what the difference is between you and I, Admiral? You wear that uniform and I don't."
Yeah, maaan, you tell him! Fascists! Never trust anybody above the rank of Lieutenant, maaan. Don't tread on my right to foment sedition and outright mutiny, maaaaan. The collaborative work toward continued survival for two great races is, like, sooooo harmful to terrorists and other living things, maaaaan. You totally get it, Zarek maaan. I'm like really glad we met. You're like soooo tuned in and mellow. Down with oppression and the Maaaaan, maaaan. You know?
Ugh, so Zarek scribbles it down and -- just to be a prick, or should I say just to resist tyranny in any way possible -- throws it crumpled-up at Bill's feet. You know, like a politically-minded six year old might do. Adama picks it up, for the third time today, and tells Tom to enjoy his stay in Camp Brig -- but maybe to avoid the food. Outside, he hands Saul the location, and they make a creepy fucking Gitmo joke about how Bill "appealed to his intellect," which Saul assumes means "beat the shit out of him without trial," and laughs. Yikes. Give me somebody to care about right now, show. Saul tells Bill to get some rest because he looks like hell, and because -- note the syntax -- he's "earned it." Bill leaves him with the files, which he says Hoshi should file because in fact they were not all the evidence he was talking about, but laundry lists. Of course, to Saul Tigh this is like a hug. Why is everything so sinister and icky? Why can't one person stick to their guns like once?
Athena hails the ship in its new location, and she's like, "This is Athena. Stand by to be boarded. Any resistance will be met with force. This is your only warning." Quoth the Hitei Kan: "Um, understood." As much as I love having Athena lay down any smack at any time, and especially with these fucktards, there's something unsettlingly New Caprica about it, like: "These Cylons are here to help you! Let them help you! Stop resisting! Why won't you let these Cylons help you? I'm going to tie you up so the Cylons can help you better. I just killed your kid, now will you let the Cylons help you? They're so helpful. Stop crying!"
Zarek's washing his hands in his cell, speaking to someone we can't see, but I'm sure is just the worst possible person to be talking to him: "Every revolution begins with one small act of courage. But I hope you know how serious this is. I hope you understand that this will have consequences -- deadly consequences -- for a lot of people." He steps out of the way, and it's Felix, sitting on a chair in the middle of the cell, steel leg stuck out awkwardly to the side as usual. "I've thought about the consequences. And I'm ready for them. We all are." How many is we? "Enough." The Marine at the door is in on it, obviously. "But once it starts, we'll get more support. People know something has to be done. The world is frakked, it's upside-down, and somebody's gotta turn it right-side up."
("That is not a system that deserves to be defended. It deserves to be taken apart and put back together again." He sings it for her.)
"Are you that man?" Zarek nods: "I am one of them. But I need a partner." Gaeta takes his measure, and hauls himself to standing: "You've got one," he says, and they shake. Two broken men, an idealist and someone headed out into the dark places. One who never looked for power and one who never admitted he was looking all along. One man with something eating him, from the inside out, that must be expressed on the flesh of the body politic; the other waiting to pick up the pieces. One missing a leg, replaced with steel that itches and burns: bearing the marks on the Fleet's soul across his flesh. Both of them still trying to fix themselves, and the world, the best way they can think to do it: naked and broken. Their war is the best they can hope for. One last revolution.
Hitei Kan jumps back into the Fleet; Saul calls it up to Bill, in bed, and he smiles. "That's good. Take it from here, Saul. See you in the morning." Laura's arm comes around, and hangs up the phone softly. "They found the tylium ship." Laura smiles, in his arms; she's got the wig off, bearing the scars of a whole nation on her body. Surrendering to it. "Do you care?" he asks, and she nuzzles him, chuckling in the negative. They giggle; he holds her tighter. "Neither do I." They are surprised, they are relieved, it is beautiful and it is a gift. In all the ships of the Fleet nobody has this tonight. Sometimes you're allowed to lay those burdens down. He kisses her shoulder goodnight.
They are naked. They are broken. They keep going.
Relive the greatness that is BSG with our Battlestar Galactica: The Most Frakking Good Moments gallery.