Time for another beach fugue, where Chip Six speaks evenly and urgently and does not brook refusal: "Say you'll go aboard the infected baseship and investigate what happened. You sent them to that nebula. Remember?" He asks if she's mad -- Can you imagine if your imaginary girlfriend went crazy in your head? -- and she laughs. "You have to prove to them you can be counted on in an emergency," and worth keeping alive. He asks what about if he catches the disease, and she chuckles a bit more darkly. "What are the chances that a human could catch something that infects a Centurion or a Raider? That is, if you're human." And this part is very subtle, but very complicated, because he is a man of many wishes, and she's offering to grant them all: "And if you're really a Cylon -- one of the final five you haven't seen yet -- then wouldn't you rather just get it over with and die?" To live and prove his worth, on the one hand. On the other, to be the thing that Cylons fear -- a Final Fiver -- or to be the thing that humans fear -- a Cylon period -- or to be dead. Those are the options she's giving him. She kisses him and it is beautiful onscreen, and he jumps back to the basestar.
"I'll go!" he shouts abruptly. Three is confused. "Yes, I'll go." He counts it out: he's a trained scientist, he can go to the baseship without dying, and he can bring back the thing they are freaking out about: "Observations about the Cylons, their physical condition. Bring back information," he adds -- the thing they want most -- and adds some extra leverage: "About this disease, which now threatens all of you." Simon worries that they can't land anyway without infecting the Raiders, and Gaius points out that they've got to have stolen some kind of Colonial vessels. Eight nods. "We could program one of our Raptors to approach on autopilot." (Especially she could, you know?) Three nods, machine logic closes it out, faster than it took to discuss it out loud. Say what you will about the Cylons, but they don't fuck around when it's decision making time. (And when it turns out wrong, they just re-vector and move out again, which is somewhat less laudatory than the not-fucking-around part.) "Prepare to jump the ship. Make sure the resurrection ship knows to stay behind, out of range." Caprica looks at Gaius suspiciously: "A truly... selfless act." (I'd slap him, just in case.)
Hotdog refills Tigh's glass and toasts "knowing that somebody will always have your back." All the Pilots cheer, but that would have been too cheerful for Tigh even before he went nuts and lost all his stuff he ever had. "The sentiment's good, but in my book, trust is an overrated commodity." Starbuck nods and drinks deep to that one. Finally, Kat decides to take out the salt line with the bazooka of her huge mouth. "Frack you guys." Starbuck laughs innocently: "What is your problem, Katraine?" Specifically? "You, Captain. And all this 'Us Against Them' crap." Starbuck goes for another beer, laughing at her and Starbucking into the stratosphere. "Truth hurts, doesn't it." Kat's had enough. "You know what, Starbuck? Whatever happened to you down there, why don't you take it out on the Cylons? Because we busted our ass to get you off that rock." She's right, but so is Tigh: "Do you think that means anything? Every colonist that landed on New Caprica was loyal, to a point. It was amazing watching those people that you thought you knew go over to the Cylons." Which has zero to do with anything, but also: when I said last week this was going to be the huge problem, I didn't think I meant FIVE MINUTES FROM RIGHT WHEN I SAID IT. "At least in the end, we knew where we stood, huh?" asks Starbuck, kissing his ass, but look, kid: he works alone. "Is that so? Then how come you are off flight duty, and some Cylon lover is holding down my post? Don't kid yourselves, you're on your own in this life. Each and every one of us." Now more than ever. Yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum. "Why don't you tell that to the pilots that died getting you off that rock?" Awkward squared.