A/N: First Battlestar Galactica fic so please be nice.
The day the world changed. If you had asked me that same question a day ago I would've told you that happened a long time ago, the day my brother died. Now I'm not so sure. The world changed that day, but it also changed today because there is no world, it's all gone. The Cylons have destroyed everything. I can't even visit my brother's grave.
The world changed then too. My brother had been engaged, soon to be married. I wanted to kill my father. He must've pulled the strings to get him into flight school. But I was wrong. Kara, his love, my friend, his flight instructor had pulled the strings. She had passed him. She told me today, "It's the end of the world Lee, I might as well confess my sins."
To be frank, the world really changed today. I'm on board the last Battlestar, the last of the human race. We're about to leave our home forever, in search of a new home. Somewhere, out there. It doesn't matter where we came from. The twelve colonies exist only in spirit. I'm the CAG on a ship I've only been on for a few hours.
I climb down the steps of the hanger bay, running my hands along my Viper. The same fighter my father flew. Ironic, that fate has managed to keep us alive and mend the wounds, when so much has been lost. I climb up into the ship, sliding my helmet over my head. Tyrol's deck gang pulls it into the launch tube. I've done this a million times, but something is different this time.
That something must be the end of the world, at least as I know it. Less than 50,000 of us left. More are going to die just trying to get us away. That's a piece of the old world. As a pilot it's my job to play rough with the enemy. I just never thought I'd fight the same enemy that my father did. Never in a thousand years.
I glance over at the officer in the launch bay. He's listening intently to the bridge. I launch the second we clear the cloud, along with most of the other pilots. We're all nervous; we all know what we're fighting for, but we just don't know how to be ready for it. We weren't trained to fight Cylons; we were trained to be peace keepers.
The officer counts down with his fingers. I throttle up, causing the fighter to vibrate with anticipation. It knows what it's about to do, I can only hope the engines stay lit this time. He gives me a thumbs up. I return the gesture and then my fighter shoots forward, out of the bay. Into the maelstrom. The war is over, but our fight is just beginning.
