[theatrical_muse] 264 - "The past is never dead. It's not even

[arrow_of_apollo]

264 - "The past is never dead. It's not even past." William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun.

You know how some people say that just before you die, your life flashes before your eyes? It actually can, sometimes. There was one time, though, when my life didn't exactly flash as much as it unspooled in slow and agonizing detail, during the longest Viper flight of my life.


I'll admit that I wasn't in the best place emotionally when I got the news about the assignment Fleet Command had in mind for me. On the one hand, I'd just been accepted into the Colonial Fleet's test pilot program, which meant I was done being another fighter jock on the track to get my own battlestar someday, and could start walking a new path. On the other hand, Gianne and I... I had just walked out on Gianne.

So when my CO at the time dropped an envelope on my desk with orders to pack my dress grays, square away my Mark VII and get it and me shipped in the direction of my father's command, it hit at just about the worst time. To say that I was angry about the idea would be like saying that my father and I didn't get along all the time. I was furious, and no matter what I said to my CO or to Fleet, they wanted the photo op, and I was on my way.

I meant what I said to that guy at the Caprica Transfer Station-- I was seriously thinking about turning in my commission. Between being ordered to lead a parade in honor my father, and everything else going on in my life, the last thing I wanted to be was... well, whatever I was turning into at the time. But I still got in the Viper, still took off and left the atmosphere and pointed my nose at Galactica.

Even with comm chatter in your ear, the cockpit of a Viper is a cramped and lonely place, like trying to cram your office desk into a bathtub with you and setting out to sea. Transferring from planetside up to a ship in high orbit is a long, boring run, with lots of time in the middle to think. Me, I used it to stew.

I used it to remember every time Mom said that Dad wasn't coming home for this school play or that Pee-Wee Pyramid game because he was off doing important Colonial Fleet things and being a hero. I remembered all the times I had to face him across that massive wooden desk, knowing that I'd done something to disappoint the Commander. Hell, I even remembered all the times I wished he were there, disapproving glare and all, if only to stand between my mother and us.

Like I said, the longest Viper flight of my life. I was a stick of dynamite itching for a match.

"Viper Four-five-zero/Galactica. Approach port landing bay, hands-on, speed one zero five, checkers red, call the ball."

And there it was. I wanted to write it off as a malfunction. The Galactica was an old gal, being put out to pasture. All kinds of systems could be down or out of service. Then, Chief Tyrol told me the truth.

"They're all hands-on here, Captain. No auto-landings on Galactica. Commander Adama's orders."

Not just my past refusing to stay past. Now it was my father's past, being imposed on the rest of us. No wonder I was in such a bad mood.


(545, not counting direct quotes)