Saul ends the horn at the Sam station, up above the CIC deck: Ellen? She is go. They are go. Bill addresses the ship, alone. "This is the Admiral." Saul watches him. "Just so there'll be no misunderstandings later," he says, as Lee settles in with his Marines. "Galactica's seen a lot of history." Kara leans against the Raptor's screen, begging to go, and go, and go. "Gone through a lot of battles. This will be her last." Athena and Helo look at each other a moment: Hera's parents. And Caprica and Gaius sit, studiously not touching.
"She will not fail us if we do not fail her," Bill says, and Laura stands in sickbay, looking up, up, up. "If we succeed in our mission, Galactica will bring us home. If we don't..." Ellen and Tory stare down into the Hybrid's tank, at their quiet brother. "Doesn't matter anyway. Action stations." Saul starts the clock; he smiles warmly at Bill, but Bill is in the zone. Jump.
Into the tidal stresses and debris surrounding the Colony; the music is as wild as any other battle. When Galactica jumps in, their gun batteries go wild all over her, lighting her up, firing and firing, never letting up. She is scraped and bruised, coming apart. The CIC is wrecked, men and women falling over. Bill stands strong. She can't take much more, Saul cries out, as the barrage continues from all sides. It is terrible, and beautiful.
"It's time, Sam." Ellen plugs him in; eyes dart, and there's that sound again: like something spinning up, coming alive, putting itself back together. The Hybrids sing their constant song: God telling lullabies, singing stories only God is meant to hear. Sam sings along with them, and then he is there with them. Her blue and white goes red, and she stares up, at the laughing stars; he is with her. She sings to God and God sings back songs of war, but Sam's voice overpowers them all. (Next, the Galactica will ram itself into the Colony's soft places. I'm just saying.) The Hybrid was made to knit herself across the universe, touching everywhere at once; the Hybrid was made to hold the whole ship in her hand, touching all of them at once. The Hybrid has no interest in guns, but she never gets a vote. Aspiration, but no voice. I imagine you would call it relief, once Sam has calmed them again.
The guns stop; the Raiders prepare to launch. Saul sends the Vipers and Raptors out toward the Colony, and Bill runs Galactica into its side. Amid screams and groans, sparks and fires, Bill looks up at dradis: a mangled mess of red Raiders and green friendlies, and then just red-green static as they blend and jitter on the screen. Galactica groans, horribly, and the Raiders swarm.