"Kara Thrace will lead the human race to its end. She is the herald of the Apocalypse. The harbinger of death. They must not follow her."
Hoshi reports that the Raptor is inbound, with Kara onboard, leaving Kendra behind. Apollo's shocked: surely Kara wouldn't make that call. Kendra radios in: "Actual. This is Red 1. Come in." She tries to warn him, to pass along the message, to deliver the testimony, but the wireless jams up again. "I gotta warn you. It's Captain Thrace..." And she's gone.
"As my own existence comes to a close," the Hybrid says, "only to begin anew, in ways...uncertain." Kendra almost smiles at him; smiles into the calm, dying face of an infirm God. "You're scared, aren't you, motherfrakker? You should be." Not scared, just uncertain: God is not a razor. God is the rock, and the hard place, everywhere and nowhere at once, but he's not a razor and he's not a needle. That's a secret not even the Cylon know yet. The end of humanity: sounds frightening, doesn't it? Ask Hera, ask Nicky. Ask Laura and Athena, Gaius and Caprica, the Final Four, Kara Thrace: the end of humanity is not the end of everything. It's the beginning of something yet to come. Ask Helena and Kendra: the end of humanity was their personal imperative. Down on New Caprica, Kara will become a razor; for a year she can't get out, so she turns into something else. Forgiven. Up in the Circle of the Second Exodus, Saul will become a razor, tearing out his own heart and killing it, in mercy. Forgiven. But Saul and Kara disprove Cain's Law: they come back. In the arms of Sam and Saul and Lee they come back. Taken apart in the unfolding, they reassemble their lives and become more than human. I don't think it's a coincidence that they are rewarded with light -- that mere humanity is only a stopping place on the way to becoming what they always were, which is more than simply human. Hammered into light on the angel's anvil, and burnt pure again. Your life is a story told by nobody but you: for Kendra and Helena, for Gina and Kat, the punchline of that story they were writing was death, end of line. But we know a better ending yet.
Kendra arms the nuke, and it pulses up, and God begins to sing. "All this has happened before, and will happen again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again." His voice rising, twinning with the scream of the bomb, a breakaway song that only they two can hear. And it goes, and God and Major Kendra Shaw are taken apart in light. Kara watches from the Raptor, in the sky, and weeps.