Anyway. "Yeah, well," stammers Gaius, trying to get all Sixy in response, "I can see why you'd want a mistrial." Lee hops right in there. "Well, that'd be the quickest way, wouldn't it, for you to absolve all your responsibility. Wash your hands of the whole affair." He points to Lee, saying Lee can get back to his life or what's left of it, and to Romo: "You get back to... wherever you get back to..." Love that! "And I get back to a cell, and I have to go through this all over again. I can't physically take that." The prissy, essential Gaiusness of that last line, the delivery of it, were so gorgeous I rolled around on the floor laughing like an idiot. "There will be a verdict!" Gaius shouts. And on it, the Fleet's soul hangs.
On the hangar deck, the radio is telling us about Tigh's freakout yesterday, which is in line with Lee's implication in the last scene that his conference with Bill and quittery took place in the last 24 hours. Racetrack's yelling at her nuggets about how they can't fly one of her Raptors until they know it all: "... Systems," she says. You can't operate a chopper, or the law, or your life, until you understand these things. The way they fit together. "Electronics, avionics..." Sam -- he's going for Raptors, I guess, and not Vipers. I like that, not only because of her but because of who he is: it makes sense -- hears the static and the sound. "...Navigation, engine controls, dradis configuration and calibration..." The senses, the way you find your way in the dark, the way you hear and see the voice of home: Sam notices Chief humming the song. "...Basic FTL functions, autopilot gearing and propulsion systems..." The way you move: Sam stares at Chief and begins to wander toward him, body trailing behind a feeling he can't name. "... The best way to learn that is on a Raptor. And that means getting your hands dirty." How dirty? She ushers them onboard, in her best Kat voice; Sam is drawn across the bay. Chief's still humming. In his throat and in his body.
There's a kindness, a friendliness in Chief's greeting to Sam, as he continues to hum, that would have warmed my heart once; now I just wonder if with other sight, you could see the sparks between them, the linkup, the connection. I would have loved for Chief to lean over and just give Sam a big old sniff or something, you know? Wildcats. "That song you're humming. What is that?" They talk about the song -- something you can't get out of your head, hearing it everywhere, the boom box at Joe's -- but it's not so much a conversation as two hands meeting each other. The same power playing both sides of the chessboard: take a drop of water, or mercury, and divide it. "Like it's something... " "From childhood," they finish together. Nobody notices how weird it all is, how many levels this game is being played on, except for Racetrack, who yells at him. He's reluctant, pulling away from the Chief -- and who wouldn't be -- but he moves on, grinning as she yells. These dancers and their song, and everybody around them just keeps walking, and wonders why they're not in step. It's just they don't see they're dancing, yet. Not from this angle. They just can't hear the song.