Post by tara on Feb 8, 2007 17:14:27 GMT -6
Humanity in the generations following the Cylon assault grew strong. This is a fact that historians all agree upon. The reasons why are hard to identify, but there are many that can be identified easily.
The adults that were caught up in the assault can be catagorized as generation 1. They took part in the attack, defending, or being refugees from the attack. This generation was the most fragile of the generations since the assault. They were caught outside their element. Having grown used to the idea of life on the colonies lasting forever, they were ill preparred to be uprooted so fast, and thrown off into the uncharted depths of space. They took along with them, the most useless of items, in many cases. Shock, fear, anxiety, drove them to grab rediculous items such as favorite photographs, or recordings of music, or other items that provided no means of survival. Left behind, in far too many cases were the items that an entire civilization would need, such as seeds and food stuffs, books with directions on rebuilding their worlds.
The colonial military did, in many cases, find and load these things for them, but in limited quantities, as much of the cargo space on the rag tag fleets vessles was taken with its human cargo. Also, the military was more concerned with its primary task, defending the fleet of refugee ships from further attacks. As a result, little consideration was taken to collect up vital items and so shortages of everything plagued the fleet from its initial days.
The shortages did not end, though in time crop production was increased to ease the pain. Clothing was recycled and as the population of the fleet dropped, from sickness, battle deaths, suicide, and age, the fleet began to adapt to life on the run.
Into this existance came the next generation.
Generation 2 began life more or less in transition. While a majority of them were infants during the attacks, they grew up in container ships, non the less. They began life with little, learning to go hungry, to have few possessions, and to live with death never more than a heart beat away. Still, the colonial ranks were still somewhat strong, and Cylon raids were repelled effectively.
This began to change as they grew older. The Vipers began to break or be destroyed faster than they could be replaced. Pilots were lost faster than they could be trained. The Cylons also, began to adapt faster, becomming smarter, learning the tricks that the ragged colonial pilots used. They evolved, became more savage towards the humans, and as the colonial fleets pilots became tired, weakenned by hunger and fatigue, the Cylons became more clever. Their attacks became more effective. The fewer Vipers in the air to defend the fleet allowed more Raiders to slip through. Missile and gun strikes on the fleet became more common. The meager supplies that were still being rationed became targets of the Cylon leaders. They learned that attacking the might Battlestars was useless. But they could starve the Battlestars if they simply denied them the ability to replenish their supplies. They could also force the humans to act in predictable ways if they destroyed certain supply carrying ships, when the fleet was near a planet that possessed such supplies. The humans would, without fail, seek out those supplies. This would present the fleet as a stationary target, which made it easier to destroy.
To counter this tactic, the humans did the unthinkable, they cut the already dangerously low rations. To bypass those obvious traps, they would tighten their belts, do without precious supplies, and push on, avoiding the pit falls that would mean certain death. Into this existance came generation 3.
The children of generation 2 grew up learning to live like prison inmates. They learned to sleep light, to carry a weapon, to defend what food they had, and to trust noone. They learned that death could come in the blink of an eye, and so they taught their children to be hard. They taught them that their enemies had no mercy, no compassion. That they should be wary of anyone looking too hard at them, or their food. The bigger children learned that they could take from the smaller children, filling their hunger, while the weaker, the smaller children either perished, or grew harder.
Generation 3 is nothing like their parents or their parents before them. The memories of the attack fueled generation 1. It gave them hope, that the future would bring something better, that Earth would be their salvation. Generation 2 saw that hope fade. But they still had the distant memories of the attack, which held them together, like glue. They made friends fast, since they had a common history. Their stories were the same, in many cases almost word for word. They had an unbreakable bond, and that helped them to survive, in a savage world that offered little hope, and less love.
Generation 3 had no such bond. They watched as the violence against their families grew more insistant. As the colonial ranks became desperately thin, the Vipers and other machines of war became useless junk, worn out, irreplacable, and unrepairable, the Cylons killed their siblings, peers, and parents on a daily basis. So many became orphans that the concept of family was somewhat lost. They learned to survive on their own, finding food where they could, or dying if they could not. They leanred to hold their knives with white knuckles, looking with hardenned eyes at even those they considered friends. Since even a friend could attack and steal your food. They learned to trust noone. They learned to fight at the sleightest provocation. They learned that killing an enemy solved problems instantly, and earned you respect and fear amonst those who lived around you. Life was cheap, and nothing mattered more than being strong. The weak children were shunned, abused, tormented until they either toughened up or died. Either way, the children of generation 3 inherited a world where murder and death were as common as air. The sports and games of this generation became far more violent and bloody. They acted out their rage and fustration in the games of triad, played without pads, and often ending with either one or the other teams unable to field a player. Injuries were more common than points scored, and many a game ended with only one team scoring a point, simply because the other team were hurt too seriously to stop them. It wasnt unknown for a game to have no points scored at all after both sides simply engaged in a massive fight. The fairy tales and stories that the earlier generations told became distorted, darker, filled with dark twisted themes. It was rare that a story ended happily, as life in this dark hell of an existance seemed to eclipse hope and joy. The children of generation 3 dont laugh. Their eyes dont shine with innosence. Their hearts dont swell with love for their families.
The children of this lost generation look at others with fear, distrust, hatred, and hostility. They show little emotion outside rage. They refuse to show weakness, preferring to suffer silently, rather than risk the consequences of showing their weakness. These children never learned to love their neibors, they learned to defend their lives, ther food, and what few possessions they had from them. They grew up with stories of a monsterous enemy with no compassion, no mercy, no forgiveness. And they learned to reflect that in themselves. They have little compassion, if any at all. They offer no forgiveness, and expect none in return. They have no concept of mercy. They feel no remorse seeing an old person die. To them, thats simply a chance for them to take their food, drink their water, and steal whatever they can get from them. The children of humanity have become more lethal than ever. They think nothing of killing and would have no problem destroying an entire population. Genocide isnt some distant concept to them. They would employ it upon any other species they meet to take what they want. Might makes right. The weak deserve to die. Mercy means death. Love has no place for them.
The Cylons dont realise it, but they have done their job all to well. They will begin to face this new generation. As they come of age, they will begin to fill the ranks, providing a new intensity of hatred, a new level of violence, and a profound willingness to do whatever they have to, to kill anyone or anything they have to, and to sacrafice anyone they must, to kill as many Cylons as they can. This line has not been crossed yet, but humanity keeps tip toeing closer to that line, and maybe it has passed it, never knowing that it came and went like a thief in the night.
The hunted animal as adapted, grown and learned to hunt its predator. The Cylon Centurion is about to become the hunted, and it will be done by the children of their prey. The dogs of war are howling, screaming for release. Humanity has a huge choice, do they release them, and watch an entire generation be destroyed, as they throw themselves into the Cylon machine. Do they let their children die destroying the enemies of man, or do they yank them back, and try to show them a differnt world. Perhaps its too late.
The adults that were caught up in the assault can be catagorized as generation 1. They took part in the attack, defending, or being refugees from the attack. This generation was the most fragile of the generations since the assault. They were caught outside their element. Having grown used to the idea of life on the colonies lasting forever, they were ill preparred to be uprooted so fast, and thrown off into the uncharted depths of space. They took along with them, the most useless of items, in many cases. Shock, fear, anxiety, drove them to grab rediculous items such as favorite photographs, or recordings of music, or other items that provided no means of survival. Left behind, in far too many cases were the items that an entire civilization would need, such as seeds and food stuffs, books with directions on rebuilding their worlds.
The colonial military did, in many cases, find and load these things for them, but in limited quantities, as much of the cargo space on the rag tag fleets vessles was taken with its human cargo. Also, the military was more concerned with its primary task, defending the fleet of refugee ships from further attacks. As a result, little consideration was taken to collect up vital items and so shortages of everything plagued the fleet from its initial days.
The shortages did not end, though in time crop production was increased to ease the pain. Clothing was recycled and as the population of the fleet dropped, from sickness, battle deaths, suicide, and age, the fleet began to adapt to life on the run.
Into this existance came the next generation.
Generation 2 began life more or less in transition. While a majority of them were infants during the attacks, they grew up in container ships, non the less. They began life with little, learning to go hungry, to have few possessions, and to live with death never more than a heart beat away. Still, the colonial ranks were still somewhat strong, and Cylon raids were repelled effectively.
This began to change as they grew older. The Vipers began to break or be destroyed faster than they could be replaced. Pilots were lost faster than they could be trained. The Cylons also, began to adapt faster, becomming smarter, learning the tricks that the ragged colonial pilots used. They evolved, became more savage towards the humans, and as the colonial fleets pilots became tired, weakenned by hunger and fatigue, the Cylons became more clever. Their attacks became more effective. The fewer Vipers in the air to defend the fleet allowed more Raiders to slip through. Missile and gun strikes on the fleet became more common. The meager supplies that were still being rationed became targets of the Cylon leaders. They learned that attacking the might Battlestars was useless. But they could starve the Battlestars if they simply denied them the ability to replenish their supplies. They could also force the humans to act in predictable ways if they destroyed certain supply carrying ships, when the fleet was near a planet that possessed such supplies. The humans would, without fail, seek out those supplies. This would present the fleet as a stationary target, which made it easier to destroy.
To counter this tactic, the humans did the unthinkable, they cut the already dangerously low rations. To bypass those obvious traps, they would tighten their belts, do without precious supplies, and push on, avoiding the pit falls that would mean certain death. Into this existance came generation 3.
The children of generation 2 grew up learning to live like prison inmates. They learned to sleep light, to carry a weapon, to defend what food they had, and to trust noone. They learned that death could come in the blink of an eye, and so they taught their children to be hard. They taught them that their enemies had no mercy, no compassion. That they should be wary of anyone looking too hard at them, or their food. The bigger children learned that they could take from the smaller children, filling their hunger, while the weaker, the smaller children either perished, or grew harder.
Generation 3 is nothing like their parents or their parents before them. The memories of the attack fueled generation 1. It gave them hope, that the future would bring something better, that Earth would be their salvation. Generation 2 saw that hope fade. But they still had the distant memories of the attack, which held them together, like glue. They made friends fast, since they had a common history. Their stories were the same, in many cases almost word for word. They had an unbreakable bond, and that helped them to survive, in a savage world that offered little hope, and less love.
Generation 3 had no such bond. They watched as the violence against their families grew more insistant. As the colonial ranks became desperately thin, the Vipers and other machines of war became useless junk, worn out, irreplacable, and unrepairable, the Cylons killed their siblings, peers, and parents on a daily basis. So many became orphans that the concept of family was somewhat lost. They learned to survive on their own, finding food where they could, or dying if they could not. They leanred to hold their knives with white knuckles, looking with hardenned eyes at even those they considered friends. Since even a friend could attack and steal your food. They learned to trust noone. They learned to fight at the sleightest provocation. They learned that killing an enemy solved problems instantly, and earned you respect and fear amonst those who lived around you. Life was cheap, and nothing mattered more than being strong. The weak children were shunned, abused, tormented until they either toughened up or died. Either way, the children of generation 3 inherited a world where murder and death were as common as air. The sports and games of this generation became far more violent and bloody. They acted out their rage and fustration in the games of triad, played without pads, and often ending with either one or the other teams unable to field a player. Injuries were more common than points scored, and many a game ended with only one team scoring a point, simply because the other team were hurt too seriously to stop them. It wasnt unknown for a game to have no points scored at all after both sides simply engaged in a massive fight. The fairy tales and stories that the earlier generations told became distorted, darker, filled with dark twisted themes. It was rare that a story ended happily, as life in this dark hell of an existance seemed to eclipse hope and joy. The children of generation 3 dont laugh. Their eyes dont shine with innosence. Their hearts dont swell with love for their families.
The children of this lost generation look at others with fear, distrust, hatred, and hostility. They show little emotion outside rage. They refuse to show weakness, preferring to suffer silently, rather than risk the consequences of showing their weakness. These children never learned to love their neibors, they learned to defend their lives, ther food, and what few possessions they had from them. They grew up with stories of a monsterous enemy with no compassion, no mercy, no forgiveness. And they learned to reflect that in themselves. They have little compassion, if any at all. They offer no forgiveness, and expect none in return. They have no concept of mercy. They feel no remorse seeing an old person die. To them, thats simply a chance for them to take their food, drink their water, and steal whatever they can get from them. The children of humanity have become more lethal than ever. They think nothing of killing and would have no problem destroying an entire population. Genocide isnt some distant concept to them. They would employ it upon any other species they meet to take what they want. Might makes right. The weak deserve to die. Mercy means death. Love has no place for them.
The Cylons dont realise it, but they have done their job all to well. They will begin to face this new generation. As they come of age, they will begin to fill the ranks, providing a new intensity of hatred, a new level of violence, and a profound willingness to do whatever they have to, to kill anyone or anything they have to, and to sacrafice anyone they must, to kill as many Cylons as they can. This line has not been crossed yet, but humanity keeps tip toeing closer to that line, and maybe it has passed it, never knowing that it came and went like a thief in the night.
The hunted animal as adapted, grown and learned to hunt its predator. The Cylon Centurion is about to become the hunted, and it will be done by the children of their prey. The dogs of war are howling, screaming for release. Humanity has a huge choice, do they release them, and watch an entire generation be destroyed, as they throw themselves into the Cylon machine. Do they let their children die destroying the enemies of man, or do they yank them back, and try to show them a differnt world. Perhaps its too late.