Memoir: Letter to Karin

dated February 4, 2041

Dear Karin,

Before you start… I know, I know. It's been three weeks since I got your last letter. I could say everything's been crazy with the transfer and all, but that's no excuse not to write my little sister, you'll say. And, you'd be right. In any case, though, I'm writing now, so try and cut me a little slack.

Thanks for the package, by the way. Vanya's stuff is always popular with the pilots, it never fails. Between that and the ambrosia Marstens had, it was a decommissioning ceremony to remember. If there happen to be five or six more bottles where that came from, that'd be delightful. You can never have too much booze on a battlestar full of pilots.

Oh, and you can tell Mum that if she has anything to say to me, she can bloody well come and say it herself. There's shuttles going down to Leonis proper every few hours, and if she's serious about all that, she can visit the damn airbase. Don't let her tell you they won't let her in, either, they still accept retirees' IDs at the gate. But I'll not have her trying to make you be her go-between, it's not fair to you. She spent twenty-plus years shoving blokes' guts back into their bodies, she can talk to her own godsdamned son face to face.

Anyway. Speaking of battlestars, I guess you'll be wanting to hear about the new assignment. Holy frak me running, it's big. Remember that Colonial Day special they filmed on the Mercury last year? Well, Cerberus is the same type, and let me tell you, it's not any smaller on the inside. I had to keep a handcomp with a map on me for the first few days, and I'm still finding myself getting lost here and there. At least I know how to get from berthings to the hangar deck and back now, though.

As for the people, well, it's been a pretty mixed bag so far. My CAG(commander air group, in case you forgot again. I thought you medical types were supposed to be good at remembering acronyms?) seems a surprisingly laid-back type; I'm hoping there won't be a repeat of my horror stories about Major Katsaros. Remember me telling you about that guy? Real piece of work. There's a Lieutenant Korwyn, from the homeworld. She wanted you to know we're watching each other's asses, like a couple of good pikers should.

My squadron leader, unfortunately, does remind me a little of Katsaros… concerned more with appearances than substance. Bloody frakker questions my dedication just because I questioned the value of running pointless patrols. We're in drydock with half the fleet parked around us, and no pilots to speak of, what's the point? I'm sighing right now, though you can't hear me.

So. Enough about me, how are you? Still dating that loser art student? Now, I know you probably don't want to hear this from your big brother, but for frak's sake, he's worthless. This is a guy who's too godsdamn lazy to take care of himself and won't get a job because he says work inhibits his muse. I remember. In other words, he's a no good lazy frak who'll sponge you for all you're worth. Remember my old girlfriend Nyx, the bitch nobody in the family liked? She was the same godsdamn way, and you deserve better. Of course, I happen to believe there's not a good enough man for you out there, but that's just my biased opinion.

Anyway. That said. I'm happy to hear you got that internship at Acantha; you know my thoughts on Caprica, but the hospitals are generally first rate, and I wouldn't have anything less. Watch out for those young hotshot Caprican doctors, though, foppish pretty boys the lot of them. Any of them get too forward, you let them know your big brother is a Viper pilot who's got nothing against breaking a few noses.

All my love,


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