The CIC is now a haphazard, approximate thing; inelegant and rigged as quickly as possible. It is ugly. He shudders: the cables, the wiring. Cylon technology, wet and sinuous, luxuriously draped across his world. He stares up at the total mess that is Sam Anders, and the Sixes and Eights plugging him in; he moves one set of cables away from his station, and another. They wet his hands, and he shivers again, looking up into Saul's eyes, appalled and upset. Saul doesn't drop his gaze, but fixes it: "Still not too late to flush them all out the airlock," he grunts, and Bill's relieved. "Take too much time." Saul grumbles a giggle, and the two of them look up at Sam, giddy. Ellen and Eight slide him down, into the warm water, and the Six connects him to the ship; the flashing lights.
Romo and Jake near the Raptor in the hangar bay, Lee smiling tightly. Poetic justice or just what goes around comes around; either way you're looking at President Lampkin. That's hilarious; nobody finds it more so than Romo. He did the thing he asked Lee to do, and Lee's asking Gaius to do, which is the impossible thing of deserving power without wanting it. Ideals without ambition. Admiral Hoshi boards with him, shaking Lee's hand and calling him "sir" until he's reminded. He ducks his head sweetly, and salutes, and Lee calls out to everyone: this is the last Raptor leaving. "Anyone left behind, your ass belongs to us!"
Gaius appears, around a corner, and Lee sees him, afraid and sick, holding his last box of things from the cult, his last burden. Of that life. He hands it to Paulla in the President's Raptor, and explains he's not going. The girls beg, but he tries to explain: "I don't belong to you, Paulla. I never belonged to you. You appropriated me." (Wow. I'm just saying. And it makes me sadder than ever that we lost his speech a few weeks ago about how the whole point of this religion -- and the resurrection -- is that God doesn't demand or rely on human intermediaries, and never will. That God doesn't speak through people, but to them; that 1-800 numbers are numbers anybody can call? Hard won, soon forgotten. And even if he'd given it, or gives it in the director's cut, how long do you think Paulla and the other Apostles will let that slide? Before the newest updates and revelations, the indulgences, Masses held in Old Geminese? How long until they pull that gull from the sky, and chain it down again?) "I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I led you to believe... They're all yours, now, Paulla, enjoy them." And she will. "Pilot," he says, louder, free: "You have your passengers." He steps back as they grasp at him, and as the doors close he offers the possibility that he'll see them in the next life.