Roslin breathes, taking it in, feelings its edges: "Oh, my Gods. This could be the end of the Cylons entirely." Forever, notes Apollo helpfully. Helo speaks the hell up. "Genocide? So that's what we're about now?" Genocide or xenocide, raman or varelse. (I'd say framling, but I'd guess you know that by now, and anyway: every war that ever happened in real life happened between humans, so it's not letting anybody off the hook. On the other hand, as a wise person on the forums noted, qua Hera, that the existence of mules still can't make a horse a donkey.) "They're not human. They were built, not born. No fathers, no mothers, no sons, no daughters... " Helo gets taller, a little. "I had a daughter. I held her in my arms." Apollo notes that she was half-human, not a thing, a dangerous thing, like the Cylons. "This is our one chance to be rid of them," says Apollo, which is true. Helo's response piques Roslin: "You can rationalize it any way you want. We do this, we wipe out their race, then we're no different than they are." Which is still not the point, to me or to Roslin: "Captain, I respectfully disagree. The Cylons struck first in this war and, not being content with the annihilation of billions of human beings, they pursued us relentlessly through the galaxies, determined to wipe us out." Which is possibly bullshit and definitely a biased account, but what Helo says next is unmitigated bullshit: "They tried to live with us on New Caprica." She smiles at him, that one smile you are thinking of, the terrifying airlocky one: "... What did you say?" He stupidly repeats himself, and then Roslin gets so hardcore so fast I think we all might die.