"It's your call, Mr. President," says the Admiral, as he reclaims his wings from Saul. Lee is surprised, but after a moment's thought he speaks through clenched jaw: "Roslin's right. We lose those Four, we lose Earth. If everything goes south, we destroy the Baseship and everyone on it."
Imagine two stones, black and white. The space between is the story we make. When you have two groups at war, or in a cold war, which is what this has become, and an equitable trade seems unreachable, who makes the call? Lee and Three knew, even if Roslin supersedes the truth: the only people who can make the call, ethically, are the ones in contention. But indecision is decision: this is a cold war balanced on the heads of three men, one of whom is in this room, one of whom is participating in an arms race that could end humanity forever.
But Saul's heart lies in the Fleet. It's sitting in this room. The Fleet's heart is Saul, sitting in this room. Tory jumped across space into darkness, but at least she jumped toward something; at least she defined it for herself as extraction. Tigh's always compared himself to Boomer and soon he will again, but that's the story: from home, from Bill and his miraculous child with Caprica, into the abyss. Locked in a strange cold world with aliens and no love ever again. This cold war is balanced on the tip of his nose, like a dog starving, and his only absolution -- for the things that he's done and the thing that he is -- has now maneuvered itself into the worst place imaginable. He is either the savior of the Fleet or its weak link; this has always been true. The cold war breaks on him one way or the other. His heart begins to tear; Saul is too many things at once.
(A Farewell To Arms: "The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure that it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry." Saul Tigh is many things, including all of these and infinite numbers more; they are qualities.)
Galactica-Tactica. Athena points at a schematic on the screen while the others move their little boats around on that table I love so much. "So the prisoners were here, but D'Anna has to know that you brought me in on this... If she's moved the prisoners, it'll mean a compartment-by-compartment fight." Lee and Tigh point out that, if anything goes hinky on the trip, they could just open fire on the civilian Fleet and actually end humanity. "That's why we need to make sure that our Raptors are already out there with their nukes cocked and locked," says Kara, and Tigh prays again for other options. He knows what they are. So does Kara, although she tosses off the answer in bitter disbelief and irony: "Yeah, those frakkin' Four could give themselves up."