Date: Fri, 11 Jul 1997 From: Cynthia Howe Battlestar Profiles 27 Jan 1997 'A Blast From the Stars: Cmdr Cain' Roll'd in the cockpit, a pretty crawl, indeed, You gaze out the window, inclining your way toward she. So the enemy is at it again, You want to put an end to them once and for all. You're a blast from the stars, And a heavy emotion at every turn. You want their encased mystic spring of fuel to survive, So you blast the tankers and head for their star. The posture borne is so alluring, Firmly standing all, you're high above it all. You've kept yourself busy lurking as in a deep set swamp, Carrying a battleload with you. You lived off the fighters for many years secluded from the others; You're damn lucky to make it work. So let's tilt the glasses for today, You hadn't let the fighter get away; You warred them into space dust, Saying to all, 'to fight and fight we must'. -------------------------------------- 17 Feb 1997 'Baltar's Song: The Curtailed Majesty' You look upward with your eyes darting nervously, the stickiness within evades one's system. Fear envelops you as your stare fixes on their Leader, Who has your fate in his hands. You are then set free despite the previous order Demanding public execution. You lay unmoved behind closed doors when you were once shackled, then in turn you became their Commander To find the last remnant of those who now villify you. You hate them with embitter'd passion, Tracking them down endlessly, even going into battle, Yet you never win. You are alone in you pursuit, may yet remain vengeful; High on a small, tho' once tall, pedestal. You just love to think of the coming glory that you so desperately seek: The sweet heaven of acknowledgement by your adopted race. Then the strong brillant lights have deceived you. They took you away from that desired victory, And led you to your mortal, undying enemy. Escorted by their elite, you descend aboard their powerful home Where a swift judgement awaits. Carted around the ship, you stand before them, In the small room where they passed the ungrammatical sentence. Pity now that you're confined, when before you lay free. they cruelly put you away, despite the logical grievances, But you declared amnesty and truce. ....away you were, so taken and deceived! All previous gains have now been lost. You tried to escape with the aid of new allies, But the enemy got you uncovered. Now a few distant planets pass, After bombardments from the old tombs, And otherworldly confinement. You got transferred off that bargy ship To a lone desolate waste, marooned. O' the nerve of the cause that prevails! It's better than previous confinement, Yet the same on a larger scale. It became the larger sphere to work with, 'Til the day one can find you. One finds you lost in your own world, Marooned, with only an oar to paddle with. The lonliness and distance is a true curse, 'Til one can find you. But til one can find you, You remain forever lost. ------------------------------ Battlestar Profiles: 2 c. 1997 3 March 1997 'Prelude to Command' O' for a most beautiful morning with partial shade integrity, To expose and awake you, I'd grab forth the sheet. It was loud fun with quiet music as they threw you at my feet. Raindrops fell lightly; your lip tasted them. They sprinkled you with goodness, They came from my mouth.... You entered a new room to loud hooting screams, Mine being amongst the odd shouts of glee. The squeals toward you echo radiantly inside the chambre, Yet I am the only one alone with you. In the end I shall not fear, nor be ashamed of love, However ill-conceived. It remains a deity on a pedestal. Together we look out a starry window, Your hand is warm in mine And pressing firmly as a clean-cut shirt. Your soul is seen thru your ragged white garment, The ring on your finger remains meaningless. The entity of life around you is consuming. I in my shiny fragile state, take you round Thru the other chambres of command, Where, someday, you'll be on a pedestal 'Longside my love, thus. When final culmination happens and you find your base, I'll be there watching you, And playing 'longside your borders. ---------------------------------- 12 March 1997 'Muffitview' Another timepiece chimes and I am still chained to my post. Watching over the child is not so hard to do. It is fun to race toward the sky Chasing after some unyielding dream, (or something my sensors picked up). The kid chases me down, almost obsessively...... Why, why does he love me so? Why does he need me, never letting go? I find it great to play with him To keep with his ever-fond company. He leaves me behind during his academic period, For there's none there like me around. No other daggits to play with, Nobody, except the one they cal 'Boxey'. I know he loves me for my sensors feel his grateful touch. Tho' I am a machine, the mere 'droid' quickly put together For the love of a lost animal back home. An animal now lost on the far away planet. There is a short sensation of absence when we part; Like the small huddled mission that carried us apart In order to save the poor man from the fiery depths below, (or the time I finally discovered this white stuff called 'snow'). The boy flew in after me at every instance, Vowing to never let me go.... I did save that fellow that day and got a little burned myself. There was much adventure thru the unknown passageways Of that noisy bright place called 'Carillon'. It was a thrill to sniff out those passageways of mine, (Where there were incestoids, waiting to dine). The unknown is a fair country for me, The world away from this spacial orbit; This orbit that revolves around youth, This orbit that revolves around finding the place called 'Earth'. There is nothing I would not do to keep my master happy, As I travel far miles of galaxy and ship. Tho' whenever I do get that small bit of yapping freedom, I am overpowered and defeated By love. --------------------- 24 March 1997 'Adar: The Final Discourse' (or 'The Beginning That Was Not To Be') You were there, sitting aboard your battlestar, Seeing a light that never occured. Wanting a peace that was never made, Your peer thought you slightly naive. Yet it was a hope worth wishing for: Giving the mechanical beings a chance. Well, they'd never give in, despite another's false illusion That clouded your way. You turned toward them with open arms, As did your fellow councilmembers and colleages.... But you weren't there from the beginnning, A beginning that was not to be. So the approaching death squadron aimed for your ship; You were blown away with those around you, As the impact of wind hurled violently, discarding the few, Who were left, Including you. You remained convinced 'til the end, And your ship exploded far and wide (for there was plenty of space). At year's end, you really went along with it, As the magazine clipping had shown. Tho' most can remember you from then, You weren't there from the beginning. 26 March 1997 'Warrior's Litany: Apollo' Another long patrol lay ahead of me, I try to find my way thru darkness one cannot see. I ride along, in this sheltered ship of mine, Scanning my way to find the Lost Tribe.... A metallic hovering enemy reaches ship's sensors Warning me of the upcoming danger ahead. I take it upon myself to destroy it, But there were more to reckon with. Escaping further doom, I go and warn the Fleet, Yet, left my kid brother behind to possibly die (Cos I had no choice). Found out later he did by that said enemy..... Recovering form the loss, I later meet a mother and son, Who bore the scars of another Destruction. They needed my help; naturally, I did And gained a wife. Together we explored ourselves and the past In the Tombs with Father. Never did I suspect she too would be gone, Like my kid bother..... Still with my good peers, I remain loyal to the Fleet, Protecting it from harm and unslightly Demons of the night. Aside from my family and friends, My adopted son is the closest one dear to me, A son I want to see eager to serve as well as I; Happy and loved, hopeful for a firm earthen foundation, We'd all like to call Home. --------------------- 27 March 1997 'Desk Fodder: A Quest With Adama' You're a lovely sight in your quarters, Sitting at your desk; pretending to work. I know you're pretending...... Cos when I walk in, My vision is met by a beautiful brown shade- The shade that never closes. It remains open to let in one's precious sunlight. Such a treat it is to see you rising above odds of destination. Getting up from your chair, you swivel toward my side. Heading for the window, you stop to gaze out. What is so inviting out there? What do you so long for? Something non-repressive, as free as the stars themselves....? Unlike some who hurt and maim- They thought they'd get thru the lines, Beyond the most unhappy night.... Yet it was a lie all along. You share my old heritage and passionate childhood lust. You're not moldy, nor covered in dust. You're just a simple lovely fellow, Cooler than a bright spring day Frolicking within your happy summer's night. You're much better than most, Busting the boundaries wide open; Forgiving the endless strife among your crew, You continue your journey toward the new. 'A Revival - What If?' If you were fully revived, what would it be like? Frankly, I'd think it'd be different. Such that much debate is carried on en communique, Wishing that some would refrain from thinking the absurd. There'd be great aging all around, Yet the greater loss will be felt- (Mon grand cher) Much of our Council's been disbanded now, The Old Alliance no longer threatens the outer heavens, And all the little children died to grow up. Sad, but at least the printed word rings anew, Tho' supported via overseas. My mind is set on the purest tradition, So just the old broadcasts will do. Then a few stories to read and a happier time to write, As one pens lovely possible publishings. It's a small but elegant way to keep their dream of Earth alive. The young commander(s) can rule the battlestar When the older ones pass on; Into the small room they go to be lovingly hung in rememberance To keep with one's living revival, so true. ------------------ 10 April 1997 'How Badly Does The Fire Burn in Your Eyes?' (a look at Count Iblis) You run into life, you run into death- Trying to sort thru between them, Alas, to no avail. You looked ahead into the eyes of your followers, Telling them all is well..... Short ships of light zoom past the unsuspecting And confused squadrons. A voluminous three dimensional star shaped vessel Creeps whiningly behind to overpower those small ships. You fear those bothersome lights, You hate the stars that shine between them. The line of fire is dismally low- The bow beneath your old vessel That's sprawled out in the flatlands below. Scary if it had been one's father in there, But had he been? Or was it the demonic cloven-hoofed mentality That alit the warrior's first glance? Your surroundings were a bloodthristy red, Your body was a golden aura of white. How ironic it was to find thee evil Within the enigma of humanity's plight? The notorious villian left his ship at your call, Swaying fearfully past, he claimed his free will- Yet you dictated his moves, As you did for all. Now your plan held more than purpose, Obedience from many, Obedience that you solely wanted above all. You'd curse those who wouldn't obey, You'll curse those who do not. So you linger momentarily as the lights make you Cringe in your awkward holiness. Your voice hides behind the machine, Your spirit remains unscathed behind your own treachery. 30 April 1997 'Last Broadcast: Serina' Caught in another web of terror, I faced the grueling night ahead. Busy broadcasting lay in stasis as the enemy drew its way overhead, To blast their way thru the peaceful podiums I stood by. I haven't changed much. I haven't changed a bit since then. Here again, in a more banged, relaxed existence. Blue streaks of fire engulfed my planet- The planet of many, tweleve times over. I found a young child running after his frightened pet, Walking slowly, once, then again, Running toward my arms - possible son. I took him in, as the pet was left to die. 'Least we didn't and took flight on a refugee ship, Possibly doomed beyond belief. I later met a kind hearted warrior, A designated Captain who helped the child I brought with me. I slowly fell in love with him in the casinos below. Soon, we were married whilst the dim star reappeared To lead us to a dead planet, The key to the survival of us all. The fair Commander walked thru the humble ruins To seek man's destination within the tombs. They were beautiful, yet eerie, But even the planet of man does not save, As another ill-fated attack fades its light. One makes the last report before the beam strikes, The one, once called the survivor of destruction, Only for that one to be destroyed in that newer attack..... One mourns the loss- one mourns for all. 12 May 1997 'In the Quarters, Again, And Thru the Basestar' More time spared with one's hand at the controls, Panelling thru rough quadrants than one can handle. With microphone in hand, One records the top stories begotten in this life, The words reflect along the green digital light. Lightly the voice commands meaning and sincerity, The loving guidance that moved them all. Quietly then, I lounge on the settee, Waiting for the quiet destiny to call me. Into its arms, I go, to find some warmth From the cold space that surrounds the ship. A lovely soul lurks on yonder bridge far away.... Sitting down....giving orders. High above, his star shines toward his pretty brown eyes. Giving them light, giving them life. The pretty boy that was once cruelly thrown down, Right at the feet of the master..... The vipre's soul that roared thru the cloudy night. The End