We've arrived at a pivotal moment in "For All Mankind," where as viewers, we can glimpse further down the road than the characters themselves can. With the season's penultimate episode looming, we know that some wild times are coming soon. The theme of this episode is, "Well, that happened; what now?" In descending order of Earth-shattering plot points: Chekhov's space guns are indeed fired; Karen and Danny have sex; Gordo reunites with Tracy at Jamestown Colony; Kelly's pursuit of information about her life before adoption leads her to track down her birth father; Aleida has to reboot a relationship that seems shattered beyond repair; Margo and Sergei are unbearably, quietly adorable; and Molly gets confirmation that she's steadily losing her vision.
Molly's ophthalmologist diagnoses her with normal-tension glaucoma, which is progressive, degenerative, and unstoppable. The ultimate outcome is inevitable, and this is a devastating blow for Molly, whose true spiritual home is the air and space beyond it. As I rewatched the subsequent scene where she takes a fighter jet up so high she can almost touch the void, I'm still not 100% sure if she intended to return to Earth alive from that flight.
Back on Earth, Sergei and Margo are also using a liminal space to navigate and test the boundaries of their increasingly tender friendship. The moment when they crawl around each other in the scale model of a docked Soyuz and Apollo as a dress rehearsal for the cosmonaut-astronaut handshake is almost too adorable. Their age, maturity, and awareness that their flirtation venue is a mission of international importance all combine with their delicate, giddy sincerity, transforming a scene that could easily have been cute and played primarily for laughs into one that suggests actual romance could be possible. Now that's what I call an international exchange!
You may recall that when Margo visited Aleida to offer her the job at JSC, they alluded to the string of lost jobs Aleida has left in her wake. In this episode, we see one example of how that pattern unfolds. Aleida and Bill lock horns over the Apollo-Soyuz development schedule, and when she can't convince him of her suggested changes on their merits, she throws in his face the cruel nickname he earned during a crisis in the Gemini VIII mission by staying on duty at his console for so long that he peed his own pants. Bill resigns immediately, stating Aleida's behavior as his rationale. Margo regrets having shared this bit of NASA lore with Aleida in the first place and dispatches her to Bill's house to make it right. She's got to convince him to return to JSC or lose her own job.
This is no mean feat; both Aleida and Bill are a couple of prickly pears and are feeling vulnerable, which they both hate. Bill re-contextualizes his pants-peeing episode with his recollection of why he stayed at his console for so long, explaining that the moment he was meant to go off-duty, the astronauts had lost control of the ship and had to re-enter Earth’s atmosphere over China. He stayed to be helpful and to bear witness to what might well have been his colleagues' last moments. In turn, Aleida shares her memories of how she dumpster dove to scrounge for meals when she was an unhoused, undocumented teen all alone in the world. One restaurant owner shot her shoulder full of birdshot, lots of which she still has in her body because she fled the hospital rather than being interrogated by the police. They agree that body shame is horrible, acknowledge each other's genuine trauma, and settle in to watch Jeopardy! together. The start of a beautiful friendship.
Kelly Baldwin embarks on a secret solo quest to uncover her identity and family roots before Operation Babylift, steering her towards Arlington—a quaint town nestled in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, four hours away from Houston. Her journey leads her to the doorstep of her birth father, who not only owns but also heads the kitchen at a delightful Vietnamese restaurant. The poignant scenes unfold as the young hostess greets Kelly in Vietnamese, realizing too late that Kelly speaks only English. However, she manages to salvage the interaction, averting Kelly from fleeing. This exchange underscores Kelly's emotional intelligence, which we've witnessed throughout various episodes.
We learn that Kelly has met her half-sibling, Tina, before she does. Tina assists Kelly in selecting from the menu, explaining that if she enjoys Chinese cuisine, she'll love Vietnamese food. She gently corrects Kelly's pronunciation while ordering Pho, which proves to be a perfect choice since it's her father's specialty. As Kelly observes Tina and their father interacting in the family restaurant, a rapid succession of emotions—wonder, curiosity, hope, and wistfulness—crosses her face. She muses about what to do next before paying and leaving, unable to promise a return with friends.
Meanwhile, Gordo's return to the moon elicits a fanfare of excitement. While he finds himself (mostly) at ease amidst his surroundings, the younger crew members' nostalgia isn't quite his cup of tea. However, he appreciates learning that Tracy's quarters are just across the aisle from his. His Great Big Plan to Win Tracy Back might take longer than he'd like due to her extensive work with the marines, but he quickly notices she's smoking in the airlock off the galley, rekindling their bond. Apparently, Jimmy has been sneaking cigarettes to Tracy by hiding them in a stinky cheese included in the monthly supply runs. Let's not dwell too much on the flavor implications of this peculiar arrangement, but suffice it to say that Stevens is resourceful.
Gordo's confession to Tracy of his intent to win her back and his declaration that he believes his mental breakdown years ago was caused by ruining their relationship is a genuinely feel-good scene of the episode. It encapsulates Gordo's transformation from a charming yet vexing rake (bordering on wastrel) to a surprisingly worthy fellow. Both Michael Dorman and Sarah Jones deliver it soulfully, imbuing it with humor and heat that keep the tone pitch-perfect. It captures their decades of up-and-down history and the blood-fizzing chemistry that ignited their romance. After hearing Gordo share Sam's assessment that Tracy is a wild creature whose heart can't be tamed, she hands him the lit cigarette and murmurs, "well, catch me if you can," locking eyes with him. Oh, it's on! Prepare for heart-pumping moments, friends—this isn't a drill!
Also not a drill (despite our wishes for pretend): Karen and Danny have sex. Setting aside the inappropriate foolishness of this choice, let's note that Danny Stevens is great boyfriend material for someone closer to his age: smart, cute, attentive, romantic, and thoughtful—what's not to like? Karen's mind is focused on selling the Outpost rather than her tryst partner gently running his finger up her leg. Danny's declaration of love is 180 degrees off from Karen's perspective on the evening—a specific, pressure-relieving function akin to a valve that also kisses well. Never has "you were great, sweetie" cut so deeply.
Lastly, let's discuss the space guns. As I noted in my last recap, everything related to guns on the moon is a mess. I believe we're intended to view it as such but deserve to call it out anyway. The Catch-22 of deploying marines as your armed astronauts is that you must do so because marines are the only astronauts with combat training, but then you've put armed people with combat training in the midst of a scientific mission under unique climate and gravity conditions requiring special extra training. How does any of this align with the "we came in peace for all mankind" mantra?
Tracy and Gordo's mission to relieve the exhausted guards at the mining site unexpectedly transforms into a life-saving operation when Vance, Webster, and Lopez stumble upon two cosmonauts on the ridge overlooking the lithium mine. It's crucial to note that Lopez and Webster, the two marines scheduled for relief, are operating on fumes, leading to questionable decision-making in a high-pressure scenario. Predictably, their choices fall short of ideal: under the vague guidance from the Department of Defense regarding weapon usage on the moon, they're left to use their judgment in assessing threats. In this moment, their judgment is anything but sound. Exhaustion, stress, paranoia, and a lack of information about the cosmonauts and their purpose exacerbate their mistakes. Believing the cosmonauts are reaching for their own weapons, the marines open fire, resulting in one cosmonaut's tragic death as the oxygen in his suit ignites from a bullet's spark, and the other requiring a rescue ride back to Jamestown aboard the LSAM. Regrettably, it's too late for the marines to inspect the cosmonauts' work equipment and discover that they were unarmed. Instead, they were reaching for their trusty English phrase cards, eager to engage in conversation rather than initiate conflict with the Americans.
