Memoir: Cidra's Prayer Journal, Entry 3

From the journal of Maj. Cidra Hahn, dated 04.20.2041…

The vultures fill my dreams.

I was made poorly to be a vessel of Ares. I recoil from it, from the tumult, confusion, the horrors. Yet I fear that is the demand that shall come of me. I struggle to see another path, but the river's current takes us toward Leonis with a force that fills me with dread, and I quake at the prospect of what we shall find there.

I shall do my duty. But have I become a vulture, leading carrion to the field?

We made to show strength to our enemy and were lucky to escape with our necks. What strength have we? Everything is gone. The strong arms of Picon obliterated. The holy places of Gemenon scorched in Cylon hellfire. All that meant anything in my life is gone.

I shall do my duty. Duty remains. We remain. I pray the owl still flies over this field of dead, and might show us a better course.

We are gone from Parnassus but it lives in my thoughts. Is it wrong that my heart is relieved the Cylons destroyed it? Its existence was a shadow, its minefield an abomination of the laws I had taken an oath to uphold. What in gods' names was going on in at that place? Perhaps I am fortunate so much of it remains shadowed to us.

And yet we took the mines from its field. I told the Abbot it was not my place to object. Do I go so easily into tumult? What are we now, if our laws mean nothing?

To whom did you make your offerings, Admiral Madeline Hauck? Did you pray to Ares? If you prayed. Intelligence was not my business. I flew and was happy to think I played the owl.

I wonder how much I did not know. Did not care to know.

I see the Invictus in my dreams. Carrion battlestar beneath the remains of Parnassus.

Wise Athena, guide me to in some way shield my people from what is to come. To defend my ship without malice or rashness.

Carrion is all that awaits the vultures.

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