Caprica. Number Six has made herself at home in Baltar's condo, and then the camera spins around to reveal Baltar himself, asleep in bed next to some random ho. Six wakes them up, and totally ignores Baltar's sleazy attempts at explanation. She twice orders the hussy to "get out," but fails both times to add the simple "now" that would have guaranteed this mini-series an A+ grade. Oh, Ron. Have you learned nothing from our time together? Once the bimbo is gone, Baltar climbs out of bed and goes into full-on weasel mode. He also slips on sweatpants and a robe to do it, for which I'm eternally grateful (StR = 2,172, but I'm adding an arbitrary 500-point penalty for the "Get out. Now." thing). He tries to tell her that he's just can't help himself, but Number Six isn't interested in excuses. In fact, she doesn't really seem to be interested in anything at all, because the writers have nothing for her to say here and the scene just ends on a weird close-up of her nostrils. The hell?
Back on the Galactica, Apollo arrives for a photo-op with his dad in a display of utterly over-the-top religious imagery that would have embarrassed even Brother Justin. I'm not kidding, either. He's lit from above with a shaft of heavenly light, and the choir of angels…er, "reporters" parts like the Red Sea to let him through. Poor Man's Kevin Spacey is running the show here, and he's just as adorably unctuous as always. I love this guy. He makes Dad and Apollo stand side-by-side, and even -- gasp -- put their arms around each other. Once the paparazzi are satiated, PMKS leads them away, and it's time for the father/son chat I've been dreading since this plotline started. It's every bit as annoying as you'd expect, and whichever hairdresser decided to give Apollo that pseudo-pompadour he's sporting made a serious mistake. He looks like a smug version of the Shonee's boy. Anyway, blah blah blah, Apollo blames Dad for Rick Springfield's death, and Dad is surprised to hear that Mom is getting married again. Whatever. You can, however, check "Zak was a bad pilot, and Dad pulled strings to get him through flight school" off your exposition checklist. Apollo rants, Olmos kicks him out, and then another weird nostril shot takes us to commercial.
Baltar Estates. Number Six has apparently confessed to being a Cylon off-camera, because why would you want to show the audience a big dramatic moment like that? Baltar has a hard time believing she's a robot, because while he may be a traitorous philanderer who fucks baby-killers and random streetwalkers, you'd damn well better believe he'd never stick his dick in a "chrome toaster." Except he so totally would, especially if he could light a cigarette off the hot coils when he was done. He asks her to "prove it," which would have been a nice callback to the opening scene if I hadn't been distracted by the toaster sex imagery, and she replies that she doesn't have to, because it flatters his ego to believe that he's the one human out of billions that the Cylons picked for her mission. It's at this point that Baltar remembers that he gave her full access to the defense mainframe, and he finally begins to understand the he's up Caprica creek without a robo-paddle. He tries to rationalize his way out of the situation, and even goes so far as to pick up the phone to call his lawyer. "That won't be necessary," says Number Six. "It won't be necessary, because in a few hours no one will be left to charge you with anything. Humanity's children are returning home. Today." And just as she finishes this little announcement, a flash of nuclear light on the horizon tells us the war has finally begun. Thank God. I thought it would never get here.