The 300
For ar_drabbles 33 challenge.
3 interconnected drabbles of 100 words each.
A/R is there, but like sleep during the episode, blink and you'll miss it.
How did we lose 300? Over-counts? We can't afford that, Billy. We're the only stability left in these people's lives. Yes, we're tired. Yes, there's no relief. Yes, the Cylons keep coming after us, time after time after time. And yes, we are still expected to do our jobs. We make mistakes, people are going to start to die. There aren't many of us left. Fewer than I thought a minute ago. But they still need the government, and we will serve. No more mistakes, Billy, by any of us. Each of those souls is the most precious thing left.
****
1,345 souls lost. Killed by us. Bought the rest of us safety. How important is a single soul? Would the fleet collapse if you died, Billy? We both hope it won't when I do. Adama? Maybe -- but only because no one could work with Tigh. We could work with Captain Apollo. Not one of us is essential. It's the fleet. Whatever happens, it's always the fleet. They have to get somewhere they can rest, live, survive, thrive.
Take this piece of paper, write down "Olympic Carrier." If 1,345 souls are the price of humanity's survival, I can't regret that.
****
The more you try to assure me it was the right choice, Billy, the less I believe it. How much talent was lost? Genetic diversity? What essential bit of humanity was aboard the Olympic Carrier and is no more? All to get a little more sleep, not be attacked every 33 minutes.
An update? Subtract how many? (Maybe Adama was right; at the rate we're dying, maybe we should have gone in a glorious blaze. We'll all be dead sooner or later; not a one of us matters.)
A baby.
Humanity will survive.
Every soul is precious.
47,973 precious lives.
3 interconnected drabbles of 100 words each.
A/R is there, but like sleep during the episode, blink and you'll miss it.
How did we lose 300? Over-counts? We can't afford that, Billy. We're the only stability left in these people's lives. Yes, we're tired. Yes, there's no relief. Yes, the Cylons keep coming after us, time after time after time. And yes, we are still expected to do our jobs. We make mistakes, people are going to start to die. There aren't many of us left. Fewer than I thought a minute ago. But they still need the government, and we will serve. No more mistakes, Billy, by any of us. Each of those souls is the most precious thing left.
****
1,345 souls lost. Killed by us. Bought the rest of us safety. How important is a single soul? Would the fleet collapse if you died, Billy? We both hope it won't when I do. Adama? Maybe -- but only because no one could work with Tigh. We could work with Captain Apollo. Not one of us is essential. It's the fleet. Whatever happens, it's always the fleet. They have to get somewhere they can rest, live, survive, thrive.
Take this piece of paper, write down "Olympic Carrier." If 1,345 souls are the price of humanity's survival, I can't regret that.
****
The more you try to assure me it was the right choice, Billy, the less I believe it. How much talent was lost? Genetic diversity? What essential bit of humanity was aboard the Olympic Carrier and is no more? All to get a little more sleep, not be attacked every 33 minutes.
An update? Subtract how many? (Maybe Adama was right; at the rate we're dying, maybe we should have gone in a glorious blaze. We'll all be dead sooner or later; not a one of us matters.)
A baby.
Humanity will survive.
Every soul is precious.
47,973 precious lives.