Bill investigates the Raptor closely on Galactica's deck. Tigh climbs aboard as Bill's looking at Searider Falcon, breath catching in his throat. It's burnt and crispy, but that doesn't mean it's evidence of what plainly happened, no, nothing like that, not a solitary thing could harm a hair on her head if she had any hairs on her head, she's fine. "This is the shuttle she took over to the Baseship." Saul namechecks Laird ("Hi!"), who possibly has replaced Galen as deck chief I suppose, since he outranks Figurski, and has placed the jump as originating somewhere or something. Oh, and "President" Zarek, Saul snots, is still calling -- waiting to be "briefed" on the mystery Raptor and its horrible cargo.
"Recall the CAP. Spin up the FTLs," says Bill, because secondly of all he's not talking to fucking Tom Zarek about shit, but firstly because Laura is out there and needs him. It's nothing we haven't seen him do a billion times, but here's the difference: every one of the hundred times Bill did this for Kara, it was a bad idea yes, but we also knew he was right, because we were also there with Kara. So the best thing this Laura-lacuna does is finally make Bill look actually nuts, which I quite like. I mean, it's Laura, her hot ass isn't going anywhere and we know that, but by leaving her out we're able to see just how fucked up his perspective actually is, for the first time. Usually he beats somebody up and tells us about it, but this time, he's abandoning the Fleet altogether, right before your eyes, and that is amazing all on its own. Saul asks about the Fleet -- you know, the remnants of humanity they've spent like five years protecting, even as they shed their own -- and Adama is like, "Fuck them because we out."
Romo sticks with the test: "We are essentially looking for an understudy. Quandary is, one doesn't generally get the chance to wield political power without the ambition to actively seek it."
He puts down his dufflebag, which is to say his baggage, which he's been trying to do for months; he speaks calmly, comforting Lance inside, as he's been doing for months.
"That same ambition often compromises the unselfish motives that begat the quest. In other words, a battle of id versus ego that ego rarely wins." And he's talking here not about unreconstructed Freudian "ego," that bugaboo of so many '70s self-improvement courses, but the actual Ego, the organizing and ordinating and unifying instance of personhood; the difference between humans and Cylons. For the purposes of this conversation, imagine your mind is a Raptor. You're the pilot: that's Ego. Superego is the ECO, telling you where you're supposed to be going and how to get there and don't bump into other planes. And so what Romo's talking about is: imagine that in the cargo area of this Raptor there's a crazy man or woman who looks exactly like you and wants to fuck (up) everybody between the Ego and what it really wants, which Ego can never ever admit because it runs counter to all the things the Ego thinks it is. What is the first article of faith?