Captain Joe Ryder's personal log, written in a series of notebooks following Warday.
Day 276-
Jack finally came back in today… sprained his ankle waving his arms like a damned fool when a Raptor flew overhead. Said that it must have missed him. No shit, those bastards are looking for resources, not people. Half of them are practically in orbit when they fly over us. Definitely Raptors, though, which means either the Cylons are getting really tricksy or maybe, just maybe, the war is still on, somewhere. Maybe a battle was won, who knows?
Me and a few of the elders talked about it over dinner and they are unanimous in wanting to go. Enough scouts report the same, the base is to the east, likely that old Industrial Plant Jack's dad used to work at. It's a good spot, defensible, which means they won't just blast like crazy if they make positive contact.
I don't really like it much. I should go alone, or maybe and a few of the smarter ones, but there are so few of us left that any loss would be nearly catastrophic. The elders want to go all in, hope for the best, maybe present themselves as a force with skills in case the military ain't feelin' too friendly. Still don't make me like it, but maybe I just don't want to lose this little kingdom of mine.
They'd listen to me, if I vetoed 'em, which is why I won't. We've been through 276 days of pure hell and they deserve a chance at a change, even if it turns to be the last. Fifteen of us total… we're gonna go ahead, use the gas reserve, and take the bus. They'll see us coming from a ways off, so hopefully some young gun doesn't get too trigger happy. We've started packing up our supplies doin' our best not to go empty handed. Martin swears he saw 'em talking to some folks too raggedy to be military, maybe they're sweeping for survivors. Well, they're about to find one big 'ol dust bunny.
Guess I oughta dust off the ol' uniform. Maybe a barkin' Captain'll earn us a bit more space.