Starbuck sits in her Viper, begging the angel to come. She can hear it, feel it on her skin, the call, all around her. There's something waiting in the darkness. "Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on..."

"Starbuck, Hotdog. Didn't catch that. What are your orders?" Ha! I didn't know Hotdog had it in him. Helo tells him to shut up and be nice: "You know the drill. Keep your eyes open and stick close to Starbuck's wing." That's all we do now: keep our eyes open, try to keep her wing.

"... I know you're out here somewhere. Come on..." To invoke and to evoke: the two ways of dealing with spirits, with daemons and angels and everything in-between. She's evoking him, calling him from the darkness, begging for the angel. She doesn't understand that she's her own Chip, and always was. Who has the grace to accept that amount of glory, or that amount of pain? I think that as long as its Earth calling her, none of these obstacles are her fault, that she can't admit the possibility that maybe it's her, calling Earth across the galaxies. She's still not crazy enough to fully admit that she painted the sky. She's still too much human to realize she's originating the ping.

Hotdog's dradis starts beeping: inbound bogey, bearing 149er. Helo spools up, gaetas for condition one. This is not a drill. And because it's not a drill, you know damn well what she sees next: "Demetrius, Hotdog. I've got visual. Cylon Heavy Raider..."

"Son of a bitch, I knew it," she grits, almost joyous. This is the proof she's the dove, and nobody can see it. Nobody knows that this is the next step, the olive branch, the proof. I always thought of the singularity as an abomination, too different and strange to be anything but scary. If the whole point is that everything changes at once, it can look like the end. Kara sees to the other side. And as Hotdog's noting the terrific damage all over the thing, and begs for her input, all she do is speak to it, ping across the black to that angel, coming closer, in a form she barely recognizes anymore. "Come on. Talk to me, shoot me, do something..." It cartwheels, sickening, end-over-end, flotsam of a civil war, and she can't even hear him as Hotdog remembers the mission, and asks for her orders again, meaning it desperately this time.