Alison Janssen
Alright, a couple disclaimers:
1. This is not mystery related.
2. This is a love letter to a fictional character.
3. That fictional character is a member of the crew of Battlestar Galactica
4. There will be many spoilers below. If you're not current on your BSG (and that includes the new 4.5 season), beware.
5. I know, I know, you probably hate scifi. Fine, we can still be friends. But just *try* this show. Just try it. It's so wonderful.
6. I admit that I'm crazy ... crazy in love!
Dear Helo,
You are the living, breathing, beating heart of Battlestar Galactica. On your muscular, muscular shoulders, you hold the weight of the goodness of mankind. In your jutting, fine-edged chin, you carry the determination to live, and behind your searing (sometimes squinty) eyes, you possess the understanding that there is a difference between living and surviving.
It seems, sometimes, that your capacity for feeling -- for compassion -- sets you apart from your crewmates. Certainly the love you have for Athena would not have held constant in someone else's heart, upon the revelation that she's a fracking toaster. But you ... noble, steadfast you ... you believed in what you felt. You didn't retract your love because the recepient wasn't who you thought she was. Your love is not conditional, and that, sir, is a state of being to which I aspire.
In Season Three, when the opportunity to dessimate the cylons with (essentially) biological weapons presented itself, your lone protests -- uttered with clear, powerful, pefectly-toned perfection -- may not have convinced the President that you were correct. But your reasoning was sound, your convictions true, and your loyalty to humanity -- to what it means to be human -- was astounding. Your insubordination was the only course of action, and was justified. [And for nerds like me,"A Measure of Salvation" is a wonderful companion piece to "I, Borg".]
I could go on and on about each time you've let your heart, your compassion, your humanity, guide your actions. (Remember when you saved all those Saggitarions from the doctor who was killing them, despite the XO's objections? Remember when you rescued Athena (then Sharon) from the unspeakable tortures ordered by Admiral Cain (kudos in that episode to Tyrol, too, who sometimes gives you a run for your money in the realm of my affections)? I mean, heck, remember when you gave up your seat on your own Raptor to Baltar, because though it meant staying on a planet which was being nuked, you felt that he'd be more essential to the continued survival of the human race?!) You, sir, need no cricket to tell you right from wrong. You trust in yourself, and I trust in you.
And now, Helo, you're being held in the brig. I swear to gods if they hurt you in any of these last seven episodes, I'm going to break up with BSG. Humanity needs you. If you die, so dies the heart of the human race. Roslin provided hope, Adama provided capability, Lee provided democracy and Kara provided the crazy. You, sir, provide the answer to the question that Athena (then Sharon) posed to Admiral Adama: Does the human race deserve to live? Yes, Helo. You prove that we do.
Always,
Alison
p.s. Thanks, Dead Guy readers, for indulging my fictional-boy-craziness. And Tahmoh Penikett, if you're reading this ... um, want to get a coffee sometime or something?
p.p.s. I'm off to play in a bout this afternoon against the Chicago Outfit -- let's hope I don't get ejected this time!
