We've been hit - and hit hard. Few things are worse than to have a command in a crisis and find yourself utterly cut off from any meaningful contribution, yet here I sit, still guesting aboard the Avalon when I should be back on the Taranis.
Talk about the wrong place at the wrong time...
Regrettably, I've yet to see any reports on her status. Nevertheless, it's my hope she survived and that I'll be out of the Avalon's hair and able to do my job. I've no idea if the Colonel sees my presence as an accidental morale booster or hindrance, but I know where I'd rather be and babysitting Admirals is not the best use of a battlestar when there's a war on.
What have been flooding in are damage assessments - and they make for horrific reading. Even the most pessimistic estimates never put our losses this high and I find myself... Not only frustrated, but physically sickened to discover just how inept we were at defending the colonies.
At least we know they're still relying on kinetic munitions. A planet sprouting mushroom clouds is a bad enough prospect, but it's something we can navigate, if nothing else. It's best not to think about it, all things considered... Cratering every population centre still gives the outlying territories a chance, but the transmissions we're picking up are nothing less than ghastly.
It's all they can do. Broadcast footage or distress signals, hoping it'll reach someone who can help. When the simple truth of the matter is, not even the Navy's in a position to do anything but see if it can patch together whatever's left of itself and hope for the best.
And pray for a quick end if it can't.
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