Battlestar Galactica

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: A+ | 3 USERS: A
When The Pawn Hits The Conflicts

Kara Thrace has hands, which begin to ache. Every finger, between the first and second knuckle.

"No. No, I loved it actually," she remembers, as he looks at her. "He used to sit me next to him on the bench when he played... Smell of tobacco on his breath." She takes a drink, remembers little Kara at the keys of a small upright, playing the first bass chord of a song she used to know. "He taught me a few songs. I used to try so hard to get them right. Not because I was afraid he'd get angry, but because I knew he'd be so proud." And once he was gone, she only responded to rage, and violence. It became her language. Even Bill knows this. "There was this one song that he taught me. It made me feel happy and sad all at the same time." Slick knows -- "The best ones do" -- and she realizes she can trust him.

Oh, how I need
Someone to watch over me

Kara sleeps. There's a little girl, playing the upright, on an empty hangar deck, as slowly as she can. Kara, in her flightsuit, approaches, and touches the little girl's shoulder, but the little girl's gone. There's a dead pilot in her place. She wakes up, jerks away, shaking in sweat, and heads out to find Slick. He fidgets with the dogtags and watches her work it out. "How is it possible that I found my body, and I'm still here? I mean, what am I? A ghost, a demon?" Just a girl. Just a girl, existing. "You're asking the wrong guy. I'm just a piano player." She sits at his knee. "When I was leading the Fleet to Earth, everything seemed so clear. For the first time in my life. I knew what I was doing, why I was here. Now I'm just adrift again." Slick welcomes her to the human race. "Listen. You may feel like hell, but sometimes lost is where you need to be. Just because you don't know your direction doesn't mean you don't have one." We're all on a trajectory; she was lucky to know it, even for a second. She looks up, younger than before. Stronger, maybe. Maybe strong enough to live.

The Chief hovers over Laura as she reads through Sharon's extradition papers, begging her to stop, "as a personal favor." She hums, one of the million hums she makes instead of words: "Don't do that, Chief. Personal feelings are what Sharon Valerii preys upon, you know that. Better than any of us. You need to clear your head." She picks up her pen and he begs her to stop, let it ride, let Boomer rot in the brig, but she's not having it. This is the price of politics, which are always personal: "She is a danger in the brig, out of the brig. A danger to us, a danger to our Cylon allies." He nearly weeps; Bill can't meet his eyes. But Laura can. Cold as ice, because she must be. For the same reason you don't argue with a four-year-old or a widow in his grief, this isn't a conversation they can have. So she takes the hit, lets herself be the bad guy once again, takes up her regal raiment and looks him dead in the eyes, shaking her head in his marvelous face. "We're done here, Chief. You're dismissed." He leaves with tears in his eyes, as Sonja steps forward for the papers. Outside, he turns as though to plead again, stands in place with the guard watching, and heads away.

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Battlestar Galactica




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