Hera, who apparently has the run of the place all day, is sitting quietly at a table by herself coloring when Athena comes home, pats her head, drops her gear, sits heavily on the bed and strips off her Raptor suit. "What are you doing, baby? Are you drawing? Can I see what you drew?" Hera hands over the bound book she's been drawing in, with a cute smile, and Athena opens it: page after page of the numeral 6 over and over, identical blondes, a baseship, 6's, the blondes, page after page after page. Athena goes into meltdown, which I would too if my daughter were turning into, apparently, Kara Thrace.
"Oh, no. No! No! No! Why? Why? Why?" Um, because she's been dreaming about this chick since before St. Alia of the Knife was still fetusing up the spice? Which you know because you were there, and you saw her there, and you confirmed in front of Doc Cottle and the President of the Colonies that Hera was involved in it, while all four of you were awake? That's why? If I had the same freaky Cylon dream every single night and I couldn't even talk, or do much more than flap my arms and gurgle, I'd have a lot of art therapy to do too, once I could hold a crayon.
Hera bounces out into the corridor while Athena wigs out and refuses to think any of this through, because she's been blessed up the ass so many times by life, and they've taken her baby away approximately six thousand times -- a baby who was born, mind, from a sick breeding program in which Sharon started out a whore and ended up, I mean to say, the happy ending of that story has her as the biggest traitor on this entire show -- and threatened to take away her humanity even more times than that, and the one thing that keeps her tethered is a cord they keep cutting to a baby she only ever wanted to pretend was human, and now it's that cord pulling her daughter away into the night again. She follows, and loses control: the night and the day bleed together, projection and reality and vision and fear, the Galactica becomes the Opera House, and the missing child runs away.
Helo and Laura lead a squad of Marines and one tiny Gaius through the Basestar, toward the Hybrid chamber. Viper pilots stare as a Centurion makes his clumsy way between them; the peanut butter of his CGI does not taste so good with the chocolate of their shocked faces and jumpy movements, but that can't have been an easy shot to create, so whatever, the point is made. Fear will become fascination: Contact is inevitable, leading to information bleed.