Detail eight young men and women, he just said, to wait in the black until the monsters come back. Let them wait in the darkness for it to swallow them up. Because I love her.

I cried, "Well, but --
The sand, the heat, the vacant horizon."
A voice said, "It is no desert."

FREE INTO THE MIGHTY SKY

Colonial One, where the Quorum has apparently been continuing their collective pants-shitting fit this whole time. A Delegate points out that Bill's little crazy stunt of disappearing has left like 39,000 people completely undefended, and once again Zarek swoops in like a caring father, shushing them, practically humming to them. "All right, everybody. Gather round please. Gather round. Please, please. I'm sorry, Admiral Adama will not be coming to answer your questions. I did learn, however, that he's contacted the Fleet's Captains, to inform them that several of their ships will be requisitioned to expand the search for Laura Roslin and the missing Baseship, while all tylium shipments will be diverted to support that mission." The Delegates freak, like he knew they would, and he feigns bureaucracy, sympathy; he stamps on the anthill with a smile on his face and a lollipop in hand. Romo and Lee bounce, because the only thing grosser than playing Twelve Angry Delegates is watching them get played.

Back in Romo's quarters, Lee suggest Captain Doyle Franks, last seen being awesome at Gaius's trial. She was the main lady, the one that's actually married to Tigh in real life. And weirdly, the Captain of the most corrupt ship in the Fleet, at one point. I guess maybe she rules because she whipped them into shape, and they no longer suck. "I was impressed by her gravitas during her attorney's judge in the Baltar trial," says Romo. Plus her vote. But Lee admits she's already been approached and has no interest in politics. What test are we on now? "Sadly, now she really impresses me." Lee still doesn't hear him, tripping over Lance's empty bowl. "Gods! You wanna feed that animal? Where is he anyway?" Right in front of you, Lee. He's looking right at you, can't you see him yet? You will.

Romo smiles down at Lance, as he's been doing for months; the world retreats.

Lee asks, muffled, if Romo won't pull it together and help him. "Who would Adama respect as President?" Romo snaps out of it and stands up with a whiteboard, setting it on the tripod, and begins to wipe the names away.