Diary of a Traitor: Misunderstood By Count Baltar Yahren 1, Day 134 Dear Diary, Today was just awful. Lucifer's idea for a united front to explain the debacle at Gomorray was more of a disaster then Gomorray itself. When we explained that our forces had been divided by the arrival of the _Pegasus_, Imperious Leader just sneered and said "You were charged with exterminating the last battlestar, not duplicate it." I tried to laugh it off with "On the other hand, we've located more humans to rid the Alliance of." You would think additional targets to focus their petty hatred on would have pleased the Cylons, but, no, Imperious Leader went off on some rant about humans being unpredictable and their very presence was an offense to the Empire. After Lucifer smarmed up to Imperious Leader with "I fully understand, your Eminence", I ordered him to clean the grunge from the centurion servicing modules. I wish I could get something decent to eat in this place. I'm tired of the tasteless protein bars. Yahren 1, Day 142, Dear Diary, The baseship laundry drone ruined my best green tunic and the new tunic that Lucifer had made for me isn't at all slimming. In fact, I think it adds at least ten micromegons. I feel so unattractive and unappreciated. The baseship's supply of protein bars is nearly depleted. Soon, they'll be nothing but limp grain slurry composites and distilled water. Maybe I could start a garden near the central core energizer. Of course, Lucifer would probably complain about the humidity. Well, maybe today will be a good day. The cleaning drones are coming to de-louse my quarters and polish my command platform. I hope they use the polish with the citric base. The one they used last time smelled like the stale undergarments of a Boray, /and/ it gave me a rash. I wish I could get a decent bubbly bath in this place. The sonic scrapes aren't at all relaxing. I'm positive that Lucifer increased the friction setting while I was filing my reports to Imperious Leader. Yahren 1, Day 150 (Siwan 14th Colonial) Dear Diary, I think I'm hallucinating. After a week of grain slurry gruel and water, I'm seeing weird lights on the scanners. Lucifer is making no sense. He hopes they're from the _Galactica_. If I'm going to hallucinate, why can I dream up something better? Like a Spirit March batch of sweets? A bottle of ambrosia? A bubble bath? Lucifer in pieces? I know it was Lucifer who sent the cleaning drones with horrid polish. He blithers on about how Cylons have formulated their cleaner for maximum shine and protection of metallic surfaces. I can't get it through to him that I'm not metal. He just says "Of course, you aren't, but you wouldn't want to be /too/ human, do you? It might confuse a Centurion and they are programmed to terminate humans." I wonder what he did to make Imperious Leader hate him enough to assign him to this futile chase? Yahren 1, Day 157 Dear Diary, Imperious Leader has ordered me to launch a Death Squadron Attack on the Colonial Fleet. Apparently Lucifer has led him to believe that we've located the Galactica. I'm having the fabrication drones make a scale model of the Galactica, a few vipers and raiders, the prison barge and a couple of agro-ships. If we put them on thin poles and hold them in front of a projected video recording of a star field, we can fake a few explosions and get management off my back. What could go wrong? It's not like Imperious Leader is going to come /here/ for an inspection. I have a growth on my big toe. It spoke to me yesterday. It said, "Hi!" Oh, frak. I hate this new tunic. The red and yellow stripes make me look sallow. I'll get my revenge. I've ordered the maintenance drones to do a complete overhaul on Lucifer's suspension system, and I've had a special universal joint fabricated to make his head wobble when he says the words, 'by your command'. Yahren 1, Day 162 Dear Diary, I'm in the felgercarb now. Imperious Leader was so impressed with the tranmission of the Death Squadron attack, that he's coming /here/ to congratulate me in person. Lucifer's airing out the guest chamber and setting up the little flying lizard travel carrier. Frak. I just know that Lucifer will narc me out over the fake video transmission of the Galactica exploding. I spent centars carving those little hollow Adama and Tigh figures and making them implode in the vacuum chamber. In spite of everything, though, it was rather enjoyable watching Lucifer's head wobbling every time he acknowledged one of Imperious Leader's commands. He's been ordered to report for a complete refit. I hope they tone down his outfit a little. It's just so overstated. He'd look much better in solid colours. He's tall. He can pull it off. The growth on my toe says I need to find a way out. So far, I've loosened a panel on the interior of the outer bulkhead on the aft of the . . . wait, that's forward, no aft . . . how the Hades is a guy supposed to find anything if the ship is round? Anyway, I've formulated a makeshift glue to hold the panel in place until it's time to escape. It was easy to hide a portion of my daily grain slurry composite ration, though my toe is pretty annoyed that I chose my boot as the most convenient receptacle. I just hope the centurions don't notice the /schlurping/ sound when I walk. Once I make it to the aft, er, forward, er, once I find the sign that says I'm in the launch bay, I'll fly over to the . . . wait, no, that's not right . . . I'll steal a /raider/ first and /then/ I'll fly over to the nearest populated planet and offer to be their leader. I think I'll call myself 'Imperious . . . no, that's already taken. Maybe I'll go with 'Super Grand Imperial Omnipotent Lord of the Realm'. Keep it simple, that's my motto. If I don't show them my toe, it should work out fine. They might even make me a new outfit. I like green. Maybe I can have a crown. Oh! And a stick like Cain's, only with a little command centurion head on top. I miss the evening meal bread rolls on the Colonial Prison Barge. They were so warm and fluffy. Yahren 1, Day 167 Dear Diary, I've learned one thing. That grain slurry gruel cured my toe, although I have to wonder what it's doing to me. The gruel, that is, by ingesting it. I did get a break in that Imperious Leader cancelled. He apparently decided he didn't want to spend a secton making the trip out here. Lucifer hasn't been around lately. One of the centurions says he's been busy decoding a message from Imperious Leader. When I get off this ship, I have a scheme that even that nitwit Starbuck would approve. Lucifer's bobbling head is so amusing, that it would make a great novelty item. If I find a planet with the usual level of gullibility in the population, I could make a fortune selling little replicas of Lucifer. The deluxe model would light up just like the original. And then, Spectre. In fact, a whole line of collectible action figures! A super deluxe model would talk. . . on the other hand, maybe not, it might be too annoying. Got to go. Lucifer's back with two centurions. Yahren 1, Day 173 Dear Diary, I've found it! My ticket off of this rotating sphere of endless monotony, nitrogen rich atmosphere and poorly prepared food. It had fallen behind a console in the central data processing chamber. I came across it while I was looking for something with which to scrape out my boot. Initially, I thought it was just a piece of junk, but then I saw the designation inscription on the edge of the casing: /IL Series Universal Remote Control/. Now, all I need are two 1.5 volton energy cells. They're not included. I've got to get this thing working before Lucifer gets back. He hasn't brought Imperious Leader's decoded message to me yet, and he has the maintenance drones sharpening the centurions' swords. There must be some ceremonial occasion coming up. Maybe I can use it as cover for my escape. I've scrapped my plan to tunnel through the bulkhead. My glue has set like cementon and I can't remove the panel. I have to find some other way to the launch bay. If there is a ceremonial occasion coming up, I hope the fabrication drones make me a new green tunic. A comb would be nice, too. I miss the soup on the Colonial Prison Barge. It went so well with the evening meal rolls.