scribbled on a piece of paper in one of Lasher's notebooks
2041.02.28
What. The. Frak.
It's been a day now since the Cylons — well, at least, I think it's the Cylons — nuked the everloving frak out of Picon. I don't know much else, the ship's been in Uram, out of contact, ever since we jumped away from that bloodbath. No confirmation of the attackers' identity. No status report from the fleet. Or the other colonies, even.
The whole godsdamned world has gone insane. Our ships shutting down in the middle of space. (Some kind of weapon? I don't know.) The entire frakking fleet getting swept aside by so much loose chaff. Marines shooting people (!) in the airlock. These truly are the times that try men's souls. Sister Karthasi related this to the old story of the Deluge, survived only by Deucalion and his wife. It seems all too apt thus far. It's almost as though the fury of the gods themselves has been raised against us.
I still can't get those ships out of my head. What were they? They didn't look like the Raiders I remember from the vids, but the shape of those cockpits — that single eye, in particular — bloody things looked like flying Centurions. It can't be a coincidence. A reporter (and she is a reporter) asked me to draw one after I described what I'd seen to a group in the chapel. Told her no at first… I'm not usually one to pour my guts out like that, you know. Ended up drawing the damn thing later, though. I don't know, maybe I thought that would help get it out of my head. It didn't. I left the picture for Sawyer anyway. Seeing the damn things in the flesh… er, metal was enough.
I'm worried about Karin. She was supposed to spend a couple weeks on Aerilon before starting her internship on Caprica. Other than Picon, I don't know if anything's happened to the other colonies. If anyone on the ship does, they're not telling me. Frakitall, I hope she's all right. I sure as hell don't want to consider the alternative.