Jürgen invites Helena home with him to Geminon, and she says she's thinking of visiting friends on Tauron. The family she's managed to create in the wake of disaster; the way only orphans can connect. I don't believe she intends to do either. She begs off all commitments, protesting a repair list as long as her arm, a downed network; he calls her "Helena" and chides her for "going full tilt" for over a year now. He promises her she's allowed to get off the treadmill any time she likes; her fault is that she can't. She lies and promises to think about it, but the second he leaves, she tilts forward again, running faster and faster. On our off-times, we act out what we really want: she's already running from something. She has no idea how far she'll soon be running.
Shaw disembarks her golden Raptor 179 and is soundly ignored by all. On Pegasus you either get it or you don't, and the fastest distance between the two points, between the temple and the altar, is to figure it out for yourself. That's Cain's Law. She wanders, eventually coming upon a civilian contractor named Gina. She's so healthy, and beautiful, with such a winning smile; she's so friendly, and kind. Gina is working steadily, but doesn't understand Cain's Law. Not yet. "Looking for the CIC? You've got that 'new officer meaning to report to her CO' look down cold." Gina produces a clipboard chock full of ship schematics -- "one of the benefits of being a network administrator" -- and traces out a path for Kendra to follow. Gina traces out the path we all follow, and she's the first one to walk it. From the temple to the altar. They introduce themselves, already feeling the chemistry; already knowing they like each other. Gina's name is "Inviere," which Kendra recognizes -- "one of the benefits of being a lapsed Classics major" -- as Old Geminese for "Resurrection." Gina smiles, allowing as how you never know when something like that might come in handy. She's right: it's a clue and a message, but nobody can see it yet. At the end of Gina Inviere's story there is an end of line; there's no resurrection for her, but she doesn't know that yet. So she breathes, and goes back to her work. Her work is the destruction of humanity, but it's not as glamorous as it sounds.
Kendra reports to CIC, and Helena immediately asks if she enjoyed her coffee. "Just say yes, so we don't get off from the wrong foot." To Kendra's credit, she does. "Good! You see, because I figured that you either got lost on your way to CIC or you stopped for a cup of coffee and frankly, I'd rather think it was a cup of coffee than realize my new aide can't find her way around a Battlestar." Belzen smiles, secretly; Fisk nearly giggles at his station. One of the saddest things about this story is Fisk's capacity for joy, so surprising throughout, and so inevitably destroyed. Fisk's weakness, it's something we knew about but never saw so clearly as in this story. Simple weakness, like Gaius's; the cause of so much misery. And the only thing more terrible than Fisk's weakness is the strength of everybody else. Kendra begins to apologize and Helena cuts her short, like a razor: "I'm not finished speaking. I know why you're here. You're here because you think this job is a stepping stone to a still better one. So let me guess, you had your mother pull some strings. And she --" Kendra interrupts, warning Helena: her mother died of cancer. Helena is unimpressed: her mother died in fire. "While I'm very sorry for your loss, you'd be well advised to make that the last time you play on my sympathies." Helena creates a story about Cain, becomes a legend every day she walks these halls: the woman without fear, without sympathy, without anything but will. This is how our legacies are made: by the stories that we spread, about ourselves. When it's propaganda you can control it, but like the man said: be careful what you pretend to be, because you are what you pretend to be. Helena sends Hoshi off with the mostly terrified Kendra; she and Belzen laugh. "A little mid-morning snack." Kendra won't make these mistakes again; she'll make new ones, and be punished, and new ones again, and eventually she'll run out of mistakes. Cain's Law.