Laura's grim: "I see." Lee nods, and thanks her. She thanks him back, for calling her. For bringing the family to bear on the situation. They sit with that. "Anyway, I'm glad to see you again, Madam President. And so is the Quorum. And I guess I just finished the shortest Presidency in Colonial history!" She tells him not to look so relieved: "You were dealt a crisis and you knew exactly what to do. You faced it boldly. This Fleet is going to need that kind of leadership in the days to come, so you are not off the hook yet." (Or as Captain Apollo once said, "Don't get too comfortable. This old junker I'm in was meant for show, not combat.") But because we're still working the felt projection, he starts crying and thanking her for saying that, or for having cancer, or whatever. Bill suddenly springs into the room completely dressed and snazzy and frisky, talking about "You gonna sit here flapping your lips or are we gonna go find Earth," and Lee and Laura smile at each other smarmily about this newfound, totally contrived lease on life he's got, which wouldn't seem so fake if his breakdown hadn't been so drama-queeny in the first place frankly, or if all of this hadn't felt like a checklist of things that needed to happen getting checked off as they happened, or as good as happened, or by the end of the episode happened by virtue of the show slapping you around the face and telling you what was happening instead of letting it happen like the very clearly labeled food in Repo Man, and Lee brings up recon for Earth and Bill tells him to frak it.
"This is the end of the line. We've got nowhere else to go. And if we give the alliance too much time it'll fall apart again. Gotta roll the hard six. We all go together. As fast as we can." He turns to go; there is more condescending and smarmy smiling; all these people are assholes and they deserve what they get.
You should really read Bear's blog, especially this week. The way he talks about scoring is almost as moving as the scores he's talking about. The rest of the episode, save the last minute, is one five-minute-long composition that pretty much totally rocks. He describes an oratorio as "a composition for orchestra and choir that also features soloists" and thinks of the form as "an opera without the physical staging or blocking." That's fun. Also, it's the only time anything remotely happy or uplifting happens on this entire show, so it's kind of like hearing a whole other Bear.