Frak You, Apollo! [BSG Finale Spoilers]

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.

3 thoughts on “Frak You, Apollo! [BSG Finale Spoilers]

  1. You know, sometimes I think the lucky ones were on the Olympic Carrier or maybe the Adriatic. I mean, they didn’t need to worry about any of this … I mean, being dead and all.

    Especially those poor bastards on the ‘Carrier. Didn’t frakking Apollo shoot them down? Five years on and lack of food has my memory a little rusty. And the freezing …

    But, you know, life wasn’t exactly great on the Tyllium refining ship. It was pretty much indentured servitude. I wasn’t even supposed to be on that ship until … ok, I guess it was the frakking Adamas’ put me on it. At least my arm didn’t get chewed up the way that college boy’s did.

    You know, though, it was getting pretty thin on that rusted tin can of a ship. I guess you must have been on one of the luxury ships … that didn’t get blown up. The Rising Star … remember her?

    So, we’re stuck on this frakking planet, but we at least don’t need to worry about running out of air. Or eating algae. Gods, I was so sick of eating algae. And living in a tin can, worried about Cylons blowing us up before we jumped someplace. I heard the ships were pretty much breaking down anyway.

    I don’t know why they sent them into the sun – nobody actually asked for a vote.

    Of course, the last time we landed on a planet, used the ships for shelter, and set up a city … well, New Caprica. Cylon occupation. Frak it if it didn’t rain nearly all the frakking time just to add insult to injury. That was when we really started running out of meds too.

    I heard some of the officers – sorry, ex-officers – comment that supplies were nearly shot anyhow before we made planet fall. Not that they get that much of a say – the cons from the Astral Queen somehow wound up on top of the heap. Just below the mountain lions, that is.

    I guess any way you look at it, we were frakked the moment Cyclons nuked the Colonies. It was just a matter of time before that holocaust caught up with the rest of us.

    So, yea, frak ’em all – Gods, Apollo, the Toasters, and the frakking eggheads that made ’em.

    Frak.

  2. Ugh. Grunt. Cough. Sorry, that antelope steak went down the wrong way. You know these new funny people with their soft hands and strange weaknesses for illnesses are very strange, what with their ‘gods’ and ‘history’ and so on. Can’t hunt, can’t gather, and once the flash bang sticks are empty they get eaten by sabre tooths as easy as anyone. Mind you, they brew a good beer.. They’ll not fit in..

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