Previously, a man named Gaius wrote a book, and people started reading it. Tom Zarek worried about fallout from Baltar's trial, but even though Zarek's always right, nobody listened. Previously, a man named Ernest went to Spain and wrote a book, about loss and impotence, and the epigraph was this, from Ecclesiastes: "One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the Earth abideth for ever." It was his first novel, this dude gets his dick bitten off by a bull, and that's like all I remember about that book. I'd rather have my dick bitten off by a bull than ever watch another Michael Angeli script, or have to look at a shitty pun like the title of this episode, again. We wanted a eulogy and got another round of Daddy Theater instead. Ernest specialized in negative space: his stories took place in the realm of what's unsaid, what's missing. That is... not really the case this week, on Battlestar Galactica.
Previously, Dualla told her husband that he was a soldier without a war, and told her father-in-law that parents shouldn't be separated from their children. Laura told Bill that his son should take over as guardian of humanity's morality, maybe in perpetuity. Bill disagreed, then agreed, then wondered if he was too remote from his charges, then worried he'd gotten too close, then switched back and forth a hundred times, trying to find the balance between command and service. Sam and his wife's lover managed to reach some kind of manly grace about the whole situation. Then she died. That was two weeks ago. Nobody -- least of all Bill's son, Dualla's husband, Kara's lover -- knew how to walk the line between governance and war, how to be a soldier and a man of the law at the same time. Nobody was there to tell him who to be, anymore.
Now the Admiral's alone, looking through the files: Captain Kara "Starbuck" Thrace, erstwhile CAG and sometime assassin, drunkard and pilot trainer, daughter. He's weeping even before we join him.
On Colonial One, Tory and Laura write the names of every ship captain in the Fleet on little slips of paper, and Tory draws out the names. "Captain Elias Meeker, Gideon," Laura reads out, before the attendees. That's four. Somebody's missing.
A citation for valor and bravery, pilot performance logs, a disciplinary notice for striking a superior asshole, another disciplinary notice, a third: Thrace's file indeed.