"Once I showed him around the facility. Your father's a very complicated man, Gaius, but there are a few simple things that make him very happy." She shoves the brochure in his chest: she's the same way, and Gaius will never understand it. The simplicity of joy, God's love. "The last time I saw him he seemed happy," she says, and nods, and leaves. He stares after her. And just like this, just so, Gaius Baltar falls in love. It's a force of nature. It's like a flood.
Kara taps her pen against the papers, connections and patterns, doing math on the notes, turning them into math and the math into something else. Thinking, and thinking, and tapping. She looks down at Sam, sleeping, and goes back to it. Day breaking. Hoshi spills coffee on the board and wipes it up slowly, chastened by Saul.
"As I was saying, the old man intends to fly the last Viper off-ship himself. Tell the deck gang to leave one launch tube intact, set to remote pilot launch." We'll send the old man off in style. Hoshi keeps wiping, the mess keeps getting bigger; Saul's eye twinkles. "You'll never make Admiral like that."
And they're revealing a Viper Mark II to the Commander, for the decommissioning, tail number A894FG, "HUSKER" stenciled on the sides. The breath is catching in Bill's throat as Chief waves the other deckhands away, and he's smiling to see Adama so moved. Prosna hands over a wrapped package: a photograph of Bill himself, standing on the wing of this Viper. She was rusting away in a salvage yard outside Caprica City when they found her. "The honor is mine," Bill is saying, almost unable to speak at all.
Karl stares through the brig bars at his friend, eyes full of pain and care. Chief swears they're all the same: it's how he ended up here.
Karl swears they're different. It's how he ended up here.
"How you felt about Boomer, that was different. That's why you did what you did." Chief laughs, the laugh he always laughed: it was because he's a frakking idiot. "A two thousand-year-old idiot who cannot learn the simplest lesson: Machines are not people, they're just machines." All of these things are true.
None of these things are true. Karl shakes his head, trying to bring Chief back. If Cylons are nothing, if their feelings mean nothing, then Thorne died for nothing and Chief is nothing. If Cylons mean nothing, then Chief didn't hurt anyone but himself. "My wife. Athena? Is a person." Chief swears she's a blow-up doll. It doesn't even hurt, anymore, to hear him say it: he has no other options. Nothing else works.