Caprica is a beautiful planet. The ocean is a deep, vibrant blue; the sky is a paler reflection; and great glass skyscrapers glimmer and glisten in the morning sun like dewdrops on grass. It’s a shame, then, that its residents - humanity - are so deplorable.
Luckily, deplorable is my middle name.
The whole of the Colonies were talking about the signal. Everything else had been forgotten - energy, food, war, capitalism - all down the drain in an instant.
The Ancestors are back. Everything is going to be okay.Why? Didn’t make sense to me. Didn’t mean anything. Could be a hoax. Even if it wasn’t, what’s the point? What’s the point of a message that nobody can understand? Especially one that’s not coming from anywhere.
Despite my frustration, something deep inside me was as intrigued as my society. Secretly, I wanted to know what it all meant. But what could I do? I’m a lowlife. I live in the undercity, picking pockets for quick cash when my job as a temporary Fleet mechanic won’t pay the bills.
So when the whole of the Colonial Fleet wa summoned for a meeting - the whole fleet - I knew something was up. I knew they’d found the source of the signal. And this was no small meeting, there were attendees numbering in the thousands of purely Fleet staff - officers, pilots, engineers, tacticians - and something like fifty Battlestars in orbit around the planet, the most firepower I’d ever seen in one place... and all of them unguarded.
So I stole one.
I quickly recruited a ramshackle team, I hacked into the Fleet system and changed the ship’s name from Columbia to Go Frak Yourself, I stole the potential coordinates of the Signal's origin, I worked out how to get the frakking thing out of the docks and make it FTL jump and then I jumped as far away as I could. With all the computer systems disconnected from each other in case of attack by AI, there was no way they could track me. I had my very own battlestar, and a set of possible coordinates for something amazing. Maybe.
Do you have any idea how to pilot a warship?
Can you reasonably impersonate a Colonial Fleet officer over long-range comms?
Are you cool with having a guaranteed life sentence waiting for you at home?
If so, the Battlestar Go Frak Yourself desperately needs you!
