I hope someone reads this someday. I’m going to carve it into a cave wall if I have the strength. Or maybe I’ll just carve one thing: Frak you, Apollo!
It’s been 10 years since we arrived on “Earth” and now I know why Lee Adama’s call sign was Apollo. He obviously thought the sun shone out of his arse.
Oh sure, his plan sounded great. We’ll fly our ships into the sun and live off the land. We won’t bring our petty squabbles to this pristine new planet. After the hellish journey we had just finished, we probably would have agreed to anything. I ask myself daily why we listened to Lee Adama. We should have remembered that he was the guy who defended the traitor Baltar (who still isn’t dead, by the way; what the frak!).
It was a beautiful day when we landed, but winter was a different story, especially for those of us lucky enough to be sent north. A quarter of us died during that hellish freeze because we didn’t have enough food, warm clothes, or medicine.Or say the shelter of a landed spaceship.
We could have stayed together and used our technology to tame this planet. Our numbers would have counted for something. Our ships could have scouted out the best places for new cities. Instead we are scattered across the world, weakened and divided. We must deal with predators, the savage natives, and the breakdown of our culture and laws.
When we were on the run from the Cylons, at least there was a hope that some day things would get better. Now thanks to the high handed Adamas we’re trapped on this hellhole forever. It’s only a matter of time before we start frakking the natives and ultimately we’ll lose everything that made the Colonies special. But what does Apollo care? His wife killed herself, his best friend was a frakkin’ ghost, and he’s off climbing mountains somewhere. I wish I had gone with the Centurions instead of staying here.
So frak you, Apollo. I hope a moutain cat eats your whiny ass. Oh, and God, if you exist, frak you too for your great divine plan. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to starve to death.