The Monitor Celestra Battlestar Galactica larp : in-character recap

For context, please read the previous post, recapping my experience during the English-language run of the larp The Monitor Celestra, organized by Alternaliv AB and Bardo AB in Sweden, 8-10-March 2013. Photos are copyright (their authors), videos were shot by Thomas Aagaard (his Marine character had a helmet cam). Please note this is larping, i.e. full on improv by non-actors, no audience, no sound tech guy, no editing, no second takes.

 

I played Lieutenant Rik Harris, call sign “Lightbulb”, Viper Pilot from the Battlestar Galactica, and the following is his experience. I.e. this is fiction, I am not a xenophobic soldier, did not actually hit anyone or fire missiles at space robots. For my experience as a real person, please read the previous post.

 

***

 

Just received the last news from Apollo that Snake Eyes and I are to babysit some sort of diplomatic mission, with Book and Arrow driving the short bus. I’m sure I was selected for this because my scalp wound won’t scab and the blood tends to run in my eyes while flying. Doesn’t mean I’m not fit for combat, for frakk’s sake! Tigh put together a really weird party. Us two Vipers flying escort, one Raptor to shuttle people around, lots of engineers, CIC crew, workbosses to make the Taurons get off their lazy asses: looks like they’re gonna retrofit the Monitor Celestra, an old ship from the first Cylon war that went through so many owners and so much remodeling that it doesn’t look like much anymore. In any event, we don’t have enough Marines to do any decent storming. They even added some suits at the last minute. Frakkin’ Roslin and her luv for “inclusion of the corporate sector”. Anyway, glad at to see that for once many of us who served under Cain are together in this. It’s hard to stay in touch with each other these days. Reviewed the Celestra specs some more. Shit that thing looks old and shitty, it’s like that frakkin’ XO wants to keep humiliating us! After getting moved from the Pegasus to the frakkin Galactica museum, do they want to bury us in a civvie coffin? As if the destruction of the Colonies wasn’t enough? The motherfrakker wants to add insult to genocide? Or it’s coming directly from Adama, maybe that frakkin’ Tauron softie wants us to pimp his brothas’ ride out so they stop lagging behind the rest of the fleet. Handouts and nepotism, that’s the Tauron way for sure! Well, at least there are torpedo tubes and we just restocked on ammo, so if worst comes to worst we could always use a Tauron shield / suicide carrier loaded with nukes. So say we all.

***

Boarded the Celestra. That bucket is even more rusty than I thought. Cold and dark corridors, tighter than a Gemenese’ virgin ass on prom night. We were not greeted by rocks, that’s already something. Both their captain, Sofia Polos, and our CO, Major Darlington seem to be extra willing to show goodwill and not yell at each other in front of everyone. Usual top-brass political bullshit. I am very unimpressed by Darlington. Frakk nows where he came from, doing nothing on the Galactica but still acting all formal and crap, while he’s effectively a frakkin’ interior decorator. I sure hope I can leave this shithole ASAP.

***

It looks like we are not leaving anytime soon, and Jr.Lt. Cox is not talking about how long we’ll have to wait. The farmer boy wants to climb up the hierarchy that’s for sure. Smart man, he understood that being good at navigation was not enough, that you also needed to kiss some ass. Anyway, since we’re gonna stay I get in line for the food, and talk with two Tauron siblings. They introduce themselves and I try to understand their thing about family and clan. The clan stuff is very complicated, they try to make it sound like an intense version of being a Caprica Buccaneers fans (Go C-Bucks!). It sounds to me way more like some kind of mafia-esque favor banking system, even deciding when you’re allowed to die. I should probably ask that Browne engineer guy, he’s Tauron, or the Marine Nathan, who grew up on Tauron and hates the frakkers. Overall, it seems the Tauron refugees are under shock and freaking out about our presence. I think they should be happy we’re coming to save their asses and make them a useful member of the fleet, but I haven’t had my food yet so I shut up and stay in line. I suggest boxing as a way to show we can bond around sport and release tension, and they agree having a little boxing match between Galactica and Celestra crew could work and entertain people.

***

The two crews start to mingle and sort of agree that we’re better at the military gear than them. They haven’t fired a torpedo in ages, mostly at asteroids when exploring deep space. I hear one of their guys yelling at Farhan, one of our guys manning the fore torpedo station. I intervene, think of headbutting their guy but realize we’re supposed to play nice for now. So I just repeat very loud what Farhan is saying about the other (aft) torpedo bay having frakked up and pretend to take over the station to appease the Celestran. Farhan shows me how to work the console, there’s no way I’m taking over. He knows what to do. I just see we got our hands on some pretty sweet toys, from powerful shipbreakers to fancy countermeasures. Now who kept this on stock, I wonder.

***

Seems we botched a jump and are now separated from the fleet. Cox says we’re still in contact with Galactica but he’s got his propaganda voice and this feels like we’re in deep shit.

***

Bonding with the Celestra shuttle pilots in the shuttle bay. These guys don’t take any shit from us, they’re proud and strong, I like that. Confirms that pilots are a true elite, whatever the planet we’re from. Some say they’ve flown Vipers before, we’ll see whether they can actually deliver.

***

I try to explore the ship a bit but an entire section is protected by heavily armed private guards: the Vergis tower. This multi-level thing is off limits even to the Celestra crew, and this is completely frakked up. Isn’t it their ship? Since when do nerds and suits decide to own part of a ship? And it’s more than the tower: their guards are patrolling the ship and basically imposing order. The more I look at it, the more I realize the Celestra crew are a bunch of posers, mere taxi drivers, and Vergis is running the show. With the number of automatic weapons around, it’s gonna get ugly real fast if our Marines start to intervene .

***

Book learns that her old flame from before that attack, Bey Simon, is onboard. Former Viper pilot with PTSD or something, call sign « Cinder », now a Celestra Engineer. She instantly starts to look grim. I ask her «What are you so pissed off about? That he dumped you or that he survived and didn’t call?» That doesn’t seem to fly too well. My great psychology skills I guess.

***

Tauron refugees are everywhere. They look both dirty meek, weird and dangerous. I am very uncomfortable in their cargo bay quarters.

***

Darlington finally took over the ship, but is being all diplomatic about it “we have to work together blah-blah-blah”. Oh well, that’ll teach them. He wants us pilots to gather intel. Snake Eyes is so excited, but I find the whole thing really dubious: has he noticed our uniforms? « Oh hi, I’m super secret agent green flightsuit, codename Lightbulb, will you keep talking while I listen in on all your secrets? » He must have learned about espionage in novels or something. Anyways, sure if I hear things I’ll report.

***

Darlington wants to re-enlist Cinder as an active Viper pilot. I inform him of the potential Book situation and he tells me to just deal with it, that Gunnery Sergent Cassidy of the Marines will take care of Cinder.

***

I talk to Book. She won’t fly if Cinder flies. She doesn’t want to see her first combat mission with someone she can’t trust. I understand but it’s not like we get to pick and choose, orders are orders. She may be the best pilot we have, but she still lacks experience. I tell her I’d be willing to beat the shit out of Cinder and make him unfit to fly, but she needs to find a way that would not get me court-martialled. Same with drugging him: we could probably find enough downer pills to put him out, especially with Arrow and Snakes Eyes peddling stuff everywhere, but they shouldn’t track us. Book says she’ll think about it

***

Darlington summons Cinder to the shuttle bay and orders him to re-enlist. He initially refuses, but finally caves in. There is some history between the two, you can see it.

***

Since we’re staying here for so long, I pin the photo of my brother to a cupboard in the shuttle bay. There’s no way a former Colonial Marine instructor ends up on the aft memory wall with civvies. He’s posing in front of a Caprican mountain, with a red-haird girl whose name I don’t remember. One day a mere frakk buddy and the next day on of your strongest memories from before the attack.

***

Captain Polos is asleep and everyone is accusing us of holding her hostage, having airlocked her or whatever. Bullshit, if we wanted her dead, we’d have done it a long time ago.

***

There’s tension in the Vergis tower, our Marines and their sec are pointing machineguns at each other. Seems Darlington ordered to go at it super sneaky but someone snitched on us and it ended up with guns drawn. The ladder shafts are so small there’s no way we can storm this thing without grenades. People keep yelling, pointing guns at each other and asking for confirmation that Darlington really asked for this. I run to get confirmation and find Lt. Morgan, our XO, who says Darlington never did. I yell «negative» in the hallway and the operation is aborted -I think. Later in the CIC, Darlington confirms he actually requested the operation. Great, if the XO and CO are not aligned how the frakk are we supposed to get any shit done ? Tigh may be a drunk and Adama a softie, but at least they’re a real pair.

***

Officers want us to play cops. Seems our winning good looks make the civvies freak out less than if Marines are the one playing cops. Whatever. You want me to impress weaklings? Sure, I’ll do it.

***

Some Tauron dude tried to shoot Darlington in the CIC. They’re saying he was a Cylon. That they look like us. FRAAAAAAAAAKKKK!

Halliwell, the Roslin government representative, is supposed to make an announcement about this. He stalls, rumor gets out, of course. Doctors do an autopsy but find no metal bits. We later learned that Vergis may have a Cylon detector. Right. What don’t they have up there?

***

Seems Arrow had a Tauron grandmother, and is reconnecting with that side. Am not sure if it’s to infiltrate the Celestra crew or some sort of « born again » thing. Either way, we don’t see him in the shuttle bay anymore.

***

I ran into the weirdest gun standoff in a corridor. A Celestra ops officer, badge says Arany, is holding a machinegun. A mustachioed Vergis sec is holding the front of the very same gun down, claiming it as his and refusing to let go. Porter, a Galactica marine is holding both in check with his machinegun. I can’t believe the Vergis goon and Arany are actually fighting over ownership of the gun, like kids. Seems people re-allocated some of the Vergis weaponry, which I don’t mind at this point, anything that pisses off Vergis makes me happy. The motherfrakkers have been stealing power from the ship for their own uses, resulting in the last botched jump. Porter is not exactly sure about who actually owns the gun, and obviously doesn’t want to shoot anyone. They’re blocking the corridor and my patience grows thin. I tell them to keep holding the damn thing and go to whoever the frakk was ordering the re-allocation. Yes, while holding it. Seems the re-allocator was good ol’ Emmerson from the Galactica crew. Even so, they don’t seem to like the idea. I yell louder. They yell louder. Arany is kinda cute when she yells. Kinda uptight. The way she holds herself screams proper education. She must have done ballet as a child. Except right now she’s holding a powerful weapon and losing her cool. The yelling match escalates, Emmerson magically appears. She finally lets go and leaves, letting Emmerson manage the gun. All this for finally caving in? I’m extremely disappointed. She’s weak, just like the other Taurons.

***

Workbosses want to move some civilians to a warmer part of the ship: the Vergis tower. I honestly don’t give frakk about the temperature of Tauron ass but can see how drowning the tower with civvies may mess up the corp’s operations. Or at least piss them off, which would make my day. I move a few of the poor souls upstairs. We squeeze past a few guards, run into suits and have a little chat. They start giving me a tour of their facilities, and I discover entirely new rooms full of guys in white jumpsuits. They’re weird and so fucking exalted. They’re doing something complicated with a holoband. They’re selling it as a way to deal with grief and sorrow. I bluntly refuse to try it, explaining the frakker that my brain may not be the most full, but it is loaded with military classified stuff and there’s no frakking way they get a glimpse of it. He explains it can bring comfort, solace to minds that were hurt, dealing with the memories of the attack. Uses a word like catharsomething. What the frakk, my mind is frakked up and I know, it but there’s no way they’ll make copies of me. He then tries a second approach, explaining that their special Hades sensor, a type of super-Dradis, listens in on space and that they’d like pilot brains hooked up to it to listen to space noise, since we spend so much time in space. I politely explain I’ll have to refer to my hierarchy for that and get the frakk out of the lab ASAP before someone jumps me and hooks me up to one of their machines.

I report to Darlington and the Celestra first mate. I’m still digesting the horror of what they’re doing as I’m talking to them. I feel like a kid crying mommy in front of my superiors, but I still can’t get around my head as to why anyone would want to do this research. We need to do something. Not only is this illegal, but we’ve already been through this. How many holocausts to they need? No amount of cubits can justify evil incarnate.

***

I run into Arany and try to push her buttons several times. I’m sure she can do better. She yells a bit, calls me flyboy, but still nothing physical. Very disappointed.

***

I can’t believe these Tauron assholes are still blaming Capricans for creating Cylons in the first place.

***

We were playing triad among pilots when we learned about a hostage situation in the engine room. Running aft, first time in that part of the ship. Nooks and crannies, insane tubing, easy to defend. They’ve taken Halliwell hostage and are threatening to blow up the tyllium reactor (hence all of us) if we don’t surrender control back to their captain. Frakking civvie tactics. Marines can’t do much in that environment. Darlington caves in on the condition that the terrorist Puskas and his ha’la’tha mobsters go on trial afterwards. They agree and we relinquish control.

***

Seems Polos was hooked up to the holoband and came down all weird. That would explain it. Some other people came down asking about Book. What the frakk?

***

Every time they give a speech about «this is a Tauron ship but Galactica crew is welcome to work with us » I feel like flying out with my Viper and shooting at the motherfrakkers. Then I think of the said Galactica crew on board, and just feel uneasy while the Taurons huddled against the speakerphones stare at me, the ennemy.

***

Engineers are becoming weirder and weirder. They stroke the ship. Its walls. Its pipes. They talk to her.

***

The CIC is a mess. Yelling at each other, guns being drawn, not decision taken, no course for action. How the hell do they want me to trust them?

***

The Celestra captain offered us to remove our Colonial uniforms and formerly join the Celestra crew. Yeah right, frakk you! I am and always will be a Viper pilot, you will never get stuff from me. It seems Ensign Urban actually accepted the offer. Frakkin traitor. Your time will come.
***

Book is completely wasted. She took all the downers she could herself. That’s how she’ll manage the court martial thing: drug herself rather than Cinder. She remains seated instead of standing to attention, literally yells at Darlington and makes fun of his orders. He yells at her, I feel bad for a moment, I get why she did it but still, this is what we do, we don’t coward away for shitty love stories. She gets sent to her quarters.

***

One more shouting match with Arany, this time in the shuttle bay. We’re about to start fighting when one of the pilots keeps me on the bench and their first mate stares me in a «don’t you dare start a fight now» kind of way. I’m disappointed again: we were nearly there, but she still didn’t land that first punch. The Celestra pilots start making fun of me, saying I’ve got a crush on her. I don’t get it, this is about walking the walk, not just talking the talk. About pushing people to their limits. About proving Caprican superiority over Tauron weaklings. Then they tell me about 10-year olds hitting on each other at school. I think about how all the women I’ve frakked told me I was immature. Yeah, maybe I do have a kind of crush on her.

***

They found a planet and an orbital station, and we’re sent to explore. We run to the shuttle bay, some dumbass with a shotgun prevents anyone with guns from progressing to that part of the ship. He stands between me and my Viper. I look around, but a single shot in this corridor would injure important people. I give him my sidearm and rush to the shuttle bay. Behind me, I hear Arrow play the Tauron card to keep his sidearm.Whatever works. The planet was nuked years ago and isn’t hospitable, but there are life forms on the station. We dock our birds and enter. A guy is there: it’s the man who shot Darlington! Or some Cylon copy. Cinder grabs a gun and drops the mofo. We progress, I hear some weird robotic voice and machinegun fire. Everybody drops. We are gunless. Frakking Taurons civvies. What the frakk were they thinking? We’re gonna die here. Cinder and Snake Eyes get hit in the legs, but the three pilots with pistols manage to gun the frakkin’ Centurion down. We discover two more guys in orange overalls, prisoners, mental inpatients? One more copy of the Darlington-shooter, says he’s called Tiberius. Another one is lying in a metal tube, with a facemask and chained hands and feet. He hasn’t been fed in ages, I get some snacks out for him. He says he’s called Daniel. They’re telling us an alarm has been triggered. We need to get out. We drag and push the wounded out the station.

***

We get them onboard the Celestra and take them to the fore mess, several of us keeping them in check at gunpoint. The situation is completely unstable, doctors looking at the Cylons, higher ups coming in . Seems the Galactica nuked the planet a while ago as it was home to religious heretics, probably monotheists. 250-300 civilians died. Puskas is around with his shotgun, yelling at Darlington to answer for these crimes. We just captured two members of the species that destroyed humanity and that Tauron frakker is asking about old religious wars? What is wrong with him? He suddenly moves and shoots Tiberius in the face. No warning, just a shot. That frakker is completely unstable. The other one, Daniel, starts to talk. I carry Tiberius’ body to the airlock.

***

Snake Eyes and Arrow seem to be doing a lot of smuggling, guns and doing drugs. I guess they’re losing it, or going fully native. What a loss for the fleet.

***

Vergis made sort of early copies of cylons. They’re not really Cylons, more like constructs . Has something to do with Gods, AIs, whatever. I don’t get it, All I know is assholes wanted to be like Greystone again and frakked up. Old or new cylons I don’t give a frakk: they’re not human and they will die.

***

The Tauron religion freaks me out. Sure, in theory we have the same gods, but they look all weird in their hands. One of their priests, a bald guy with arrow tattoos, is downright scary. I stroke the Ares ring on my holster everytime I see him. Another one, a giant with braided hair, convulses right before me, has some sort of mystic vision of Artemis commanding him to go hunt cylons hidden onboard the ship.

***

We’ve encountered the Prometheus fleet, a bunch of anti-colonial survivors. They want us to airlock all Vergis execs and Colonial politicians and join their fleet or they’ll attack us. Hell, I’d airlock the Vergis frakkers myself.

***

The officers have a stroke of genius. We’ll send a message to the Prometheus fleet that we are infected by Cylon AIs (which we indeed seem to be) and should not be incorporated in their fleet. Let’s see the Tauron frakkers deal with this. We need to get to comms so that Ensign Hardwick, who knows how to work the consoles, can send the message. I’m supposed to provide muscle but don’t have a gun. Book stashed one in the shuttle bay, but won’t loan it to me without further explanation. We don’t have time, I tell her she can keep the sidearm in her holster, as long it comes with her I’m happy. We walk over to comms when she’s called to some meeting in the aft mess. She slips me the gun and I’m back in business. Foster appears out of nowhere and joins us in comms. A Celestra engineer is in there, we wait for him to leave, as it’s getting really crowded and suspicious. Foster enters the room and calls Cox, telling him he’s at comms. Must be some sort of signal. Hardwick starts typing the message while I hold the door, finger on the trigger. Considering the size of the room and how busy the corridor is, if anyone opens it’s gonna be a bloodbath. Foster looks at me all weird, obviously he wasn’t briefed about that part. The message is sent, and no one enters. I can’t believe our luck. I put the sidearm back in its holster and we exit smoothly. Nice operation, I’m starting to like this intel thing.

***

The ultimatum is drawing near its end. Obviously Halliwell doesn’t seem too happy about it. An engineer is freaking out. She tells me about her husband, a Viper pilot on the Galactica, who died in a recon mission. Must have been with Cinder or something. I feel bad, didn’t know the guy as I was serving on the Pegasus at the time. She gives me a small Viper model. I take my Ares medallion out my holster and give it to her, asking to put up a fight when she dies, to take at least one Tauron with her, bare hands if need be. I guess I should have hugged her instead. But we need to honor Ares, we are the true warriors. We will not go down silently.

***

The Puskas trial doesn’t seem to progress, so we’re gonna show them how Colonial justice is served. If possible with very public explanations before we shoot the guy. Foster and I are put on the thing. But with no guns. I find Puskas in the CIC, with 2 guns and 1 knife in his hands. This guy rules the ship. It’s not Vergis anymore, it’s not Captain Polos, it’s Puskas. His thugs are everywhere, reporting on everything all the time. As much as it pains me to say it, that motherfrakker is the one strong man on the entire ship.

***

I join Book and Cinder in sick bay. One by one, pilots enter. After the weird politics, after the couple bullshit, the various allegiances, one thing is clear: we’re one family. No one can take that away from us. A doctor tries to come in and seeing we’re full he says «fine, I’ll take my med crew to shuttle bay and we’ll fly the vipers ourselves».

***

For once the cargo bay is empty of civilians and full of Galactica engineers. Feels just like our hangar bay. Feels like home. We chat, there’s gloves around so I spar with an engineer and with Foster. Feels really good.

***

There’s ruckus near the aft shuttle bay. It seems they’re court-martialling Urban. Great, that’ll show these Taurons we can discipline our own, that Capricans have rules and keep their words, unlike them and their non-existent Puskas trial. I try to join the action, only to see Marine Porter pointing his gun at me from the lower level, asking me to prevent anyone from going down. What is this, some Ha’la’tha thug execution? We should be proud of doing this. I heard Urban struggled and yelled all the way to the airlock. Good riddance.

***

I run into Arany again. She gets uppity. We yell at each other. No first mate this time, no one to hold me back. She throws the first punch. Boy this feels good. I smile and punch her back. We go full force, bouncing around the shuttle bay, she fights well for a civvie. I half-fall on her on the bench where pilots usually sit. One of her jabs sends me slamming against the airlock door. I feel the sweet taste of my own blood and jump on her while she’s still on the bench. I hit her. Again. And again. And again. She stops fighting. I take a deep breath, not realizing exactly what is happening. Hormones rushing in. I think I’m in love. She runs out of the room. The Tauron pilots look at me as if I did the most stupid thing ever. They tell me she’s going to kill me, that I frakked with the wrong person. Something in my stomach feels queasy but I don’t give a shit. Sure, she can send me her brother, thugs or whatever. She’s strong, I love her, we’ll end up together. I know it.

***

There’s civilians with guns everywhere, former politicians carrying assault rifles, waving them like toys. Frakkholes.

***

It seems the Raptor left, with a dozen people onboard, all part of Colonial Intelligence. That includes Cinder, Darlington, Emmerson, another Marine, Celestra Crew, Vergis peeps… and Arany. Might explain where she learned to fight. But seriously, what the frakk ? How many spies on this ship ? At least it shows their priorities. Top brass saves their ass again. Frakk them.

***

They finally kick Puskas out of the CIC. I hold him for some time at gunpoint, dream of pulling the trigger, but orders have changed. Focus is now on keeping CIC control. I am told to let the frakker go.

***

Jr. Lt. Cox is inviting to me to his sort of Tauron baptism. At first I can’t believe it, think of him as a turncoat. Then I hear his speech about being a farmboy and wanting to build bridges between Taurons and Capricans and it sounds a bit like politics again. Then the Tauron oracle speaks. Several priests are there. Arrow is there. These people are not lying. They’re sincerely welcoming here. I see them tattooing him, and am lost in the moment. Spirituality, family, unity. Something is happening here. Weeks ago I’d have kicked their weird-smelling bowl out of their hands and dragged Cox outta here. But not now. This is real. I hug him.

***

The raptor is back. We welcome them at gunpoint, but they seem to be unharmed and uninfected. We all lower our guns. Feels good to see Cinder and Book re-united. Feels good to bump chests with Cassidy. Feels amazing to see Arany again.

***

Everytime I run by Arany I smile, I wink to tell her it’s OK to move on to something more romantic. Not sure she’s getting my signals. Sometimes I feel she’s gonna cry. But she keeps it together and rushes from console to console, manning the ship. Fine, I’ll be patient.

***

I ran into another standoff. Jr.Lt. King, whom I hadn’t seen for ages as he was busy making friends with civilians, is going down on his knees, hands raised, while Puska points his shotgun at him. I draw my sidearm right to Puska’s temple and order him to drop the shotgun. I would so like to pull the trigger, but a mere post-mortem reflex and, considering the size of the corridor, King gets it. He may have poor taste in pyramid teams (dude supports the Silver Lions or something), but that’s no reason to die, and a Colonial officer will always be more valuable than a dead thug. By the time I’m done thinking this, a mousy Celestra engineer pulls a gun out of nowhere and points it to my head. We all slowly lower our weapons, in sequence, and clear the corridor.

***

Foster wants me to help him kill a Vergis security guy. In theory no problem, in practice it seems to be to please the Ha’la’tha. What the frakk? I know Foster is neither Caprican nor Tauron and playing both sides but still? What the frakk? Sure I hate Vergis. But I also hate the Ha’la’tha. I will kill for the Colonies, not for the frakkin’ Tauron mob.

***

I look down the CIC hatch and see Darlington with a shotgun. Finally he decided to man up. This means we’re ready to roll, and kick some Cylon ass. This also means I will most likely die very soon. Time to pray Ares.

***

The higher ups have made their choice. They’ve nuked the last Cylon orbital station and cut all communication with an old stealthship/basestar that appeared. Space around the Celestra is loaded with rads. They need pilots for what will most likely be a one-way mission. Yeah, like they need to ask. For the first time I see fear and sadness in Darlington’s and Cox’s eyes. It’s like they’re finally realizing this is for real. That us flyboys are not just bravado and bullheads. That yes, I swore an oath to die for the Colonies. I get visions of ancient warriors charging to meet a glorious death in battle. I hear drums in the distance. I can barely hear the mission briefing. I can barely hear what Cox says about bravery. I just hold him. I call the Damage Control station and the Life Support crew brings rad suits. I put it on on top of my flightsuit, this thing is bulky but will most likely give me a few more minutes before burning. Will enable me to kill a few more toasters. Book is in tears, I hug her. I forgot how frail she was. «You’re a diamond, I tell her, they need you. So don’t die just now, show them how to fly». I look at Cinder on the bench behind and end with «Make lots of babies».

Arany is there. She looks so pale, frozen. Halfway between a china ballerina doll and a uniformed killing machine. Gods do I want her. I hold her tight, kiss her. She mutters «I guess I’ll have to airlock you another time, flyboy».

I run out of the shuttle bay.

***

I follow Kiss through the corridors of the Celestra, one last time. Rad alarm lights spinning. We share the last anti-rad meds. The aft shuttle bay airlock is guarded by Galactica crew men and I hug them. No time to explain. Time to die.

***

The Viper is so loaded with missiles it gets unwieldy, I feel like I’m flying a Raptor as I undock from the Celestra. The rads are nearly tangible, all instruments are going nuts. No wireless contact with CIC. I do get a visual on the Raptor and see Spinner in the cockpit. It’s weird that Snake Eyes let him fly, he would have never passed a last chance for truly death-defying maneuvers. I turn around and see the giant, ancient Cylon ship. Finally, they’re here. Not flesh copies of us. Them. In their true mechanical horror.

Kiss is flying next to me, at a perfect distance. Motherfrakker didn’t lie about Viper training. Our eyes meet to share a “what the frakk?” moment as Spinner leisurely flies down the Raptor to the planet, unharmed by the Cylons, unworried. I yell “Spinner, you frakkin’ traitor!” on the wireless. I think Kiss is trying to contact him for more but the rads have finally killed my receiver. Frakk Spinner, I am nearly getting close enough to the ship, it’s time to finish this. I will not die in a rusted metal can full of Taurons. I will die here, in space, with a bang.

The nausea starts to become unbearable, I throw up some orange goo, my gut contents mixed with saliva and half-dissolved anti-rad pills. My scalp wound re-opens. Again. Blood dripping down my brow, into my eye. “Blood for blood”, eh? I am a Caprican. See how our blood burns, the fire of a thousand suns. I launch everything I have at the Cylon ship. The frakker targets the Celestra. Kiss fires at the torpedoes, trying to save the old crazy lady. I do a quick count and realize none of us will make it. But we can ensure these toasters won’t take one more Colonial soul. That they will never get to meet the fleet. I engage all cannons and head straight for the ship’s core. Among the explosions and the rad-induced phosphenes, I see Arany’s face, and realize I never learned her first name.

Everything starts flickering.

Tonight the Lightbulb blows out.

Caprica abides.

So say we all.