Three is the number of the Goddess, of change, of language that passes understand. Three women stand in a cell in which they've all spent time, for trusting God, in their time. Maybe this time Caprica's the prisoner, and Laura's the interrogator. The players change, the story stays the same: three women, a prison cell, a dream, and a child. Four is the number of God, of logos, of stability. It's the ground on which we stand, so that we may sing songs and spells and write our poems and have our dreams. Four people, representing the four classes of the Fleet: pilots, command, administration, knuckledraggers. All of them crossing lines, all of them changing too fast to see clearly. In every three there's a secret fourth, missing: the Devil, or woman, or whoever we hate most today. That's Gaius, in the Opera House, rushed away in a moment by his women: the agent of change, destroyer of two societies, two cultures. That's Gaius, tying the two groups together now: Hera's Crazy Math Father, the first person to hear this song, when the angel first came to him. It's beautiful, I think, the symmetry. And Gaius means "Earth."
Helo notices him, up in the sky. "Who's in Viper 3?" The song is gorgeous, exactly what I would want to hear if God and/or our erstwhile robot masters were to take over my hearing apparatus. It's weird in that it gives you flashbacks to the soft guitar sounds of Enterprise, a bit, but over the vrooming spaceship porn, it's all right. It's a cover -- I imagine Jimi or Dylan is way expensive -- but it's all mixed up with the muzak and the poundy drums and the sitar and it's just ... correct. Cheesily correct, but everything's happening so fast. "...'Plowmen dig my earth: none of them along the line know what any of it is worth...'" Apollo calls in a bogey: an invisible Heavy Raider, perhaps? An angel, a will o' the wisp? A white rabbit? Leading where? "...'No reason to get excited,' the thief, he kindly spoke..." They say the messiah comes when you least expect it, like a thief in the night. Lampkin's a thief, and Gaius is a total joker. But Gaius is a thief too. Apollo loses his bogey and stares all around. Not even Lee's dradis can identify him. Or her: Everybody watching says just one name, softly and under their breath, afraid to break the spell.
("..."But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate...") For a pilot there's always a bogey in the bug room. Sometimes they stop jumping. ("...So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late ...") And there it is. There she is, the bogey, the monster that's chased him across the stars, teasing, fading from view, taking him down into heavy atmosphere and up into the sun, naked on a virgin world, under the moon. She stands on the bank of the river, bringing life to the shore. Kara Thrace comes up alongside.