"I just finished Viper transition a week ago, and I started ACM..." She shakes her head, really confused now, but he can't talk, he just touches her some more. And up on the balcony, Zeus calls down to Artemis, his voice booming, neither angry nor afraid, neither welcoming nor warning, but full of love: "Starbuck!"

"I did it, Boss. I found Earth." She chuckles like a daughter, and behind her, Sam smiles hugely. She's home.

"Everybody move back," Adama orders, and the guns come forward, the Marines start barking orders, and everybody steps away from her. "I need you in sickbay. Cottle's gonna give you a complete physical examination." Which is a nice way of saying it, but not nice enough to keep from tripping Kara's bullshit detector. She holds up her hands, edging closer and closer to anger. Has nobody noticed that she went to Earth and is going to lead them there? Has nobody noticed her redemption? Has nobody noticed the light in her eyes, the peaceful calm, the rightness of her mission and her calling?

"Okay, what the hell's going on? I'm off the ship for a few hours and everybody's acting..." When Sam tries to explain it was two months, she spits that her ship's clock still registers six hours and change. Lee speaks softer now, searching for her eyes. Lee and Kara, their love was always just a little too gentle, I think, for Sam to really believe. Maybe for all of us. Certainly for them. "Then your clock's wrong, Kara. Sam's telling you the truth. We thought you were dead." His voice breaks, again, on the word. It seethes in him.

THE DARKER MOMENTS OF DR. GAIUS BALTAR

Mother Jeanne, more Martha than Mary, chides Gaius softly: "I just wanted you to know that we'll be back soon. Whatever you do, please don't go anywhere by yourself. It's not safe." Paulla, the crazy one with the knife, the wild Crone, nods toward Tracey, the youngest one, the hot one. The Maiden. Paulla and Jeanne are going back to Derrick.

"Right... Oh, Derrick. That's your little boy, isn't it? The one in sickbay." Jeanne pushed his picture through the bars at Gaius, weeks ago, but she doesn't begrudge him the vagueness. "Yes, I -- I'm praying for his recovery," says Gaius. Like she asked him to, over and over, back when she had just begun making up this strange, this brave new religion. "Really?" she asks sweetly. "Oh, thank you." He assures her it's a pleasure. They all stand around awkwardly looking at each other: too much intimacy already, without the underpinning of experience.