Chapter 9: Entertaining the Dogs of War

The auditorium was packed full of people. The lights on the walls were at a comfortable level, allowing people the ability to see where their seats were. People called to each other in greeting as they spotted a familiar face. Business men passed the false pleasantries only they could muster.

So much had passed over the last few years. Civil war, terrorist attacks and a hundred different things to boot. The Human Remnant was been changed back to the name 'Earth Alliance', but everyone knew they were more a shadow then the end of the First Earth-Minbari War had seen them. Between the myriad of wars and treachery from their own governments, only seventy-five million people still remained. In two generations, nearly ten billion humans had been killed. The population problem was so bad that President Corwin had lowered the marriage age from eighteen to sixteen and had abolished the "Abortion Act of 2050" which gave world-wide right for women to have abortions. They needed children and badly if they were to reconstruct their civilization.

But, despite the promises of bright futures from both President Corwin and the god-like Emperor John Sheridan, only one thing remained constant. And for that reason the three thousand seats of the Martian Opera House was filled to the seams.

Rebo looked out from behind the massive curtains at the audience and smiled. It warmed his heart considerably to see so many people gathered all in one place. Just like the old days before Earth had fallen. He pulled the curtain closed, although to be fair, he had only opened it ever so slightly so he could peek out without being seen.

"It's quiet a crowd tonight," he said to Zooty, who was pulling on his black vest, "It'll be like old times."

The shorter man stuck his hand into his vest and pulling out the golden "Machine" pulled on the bottom of it. "That's teeeerrrific news, Reba!"

Rebo rolled his eyes. "I really wish you wouldn't use the Machine to talk," he replied, "It's unnatural."

"Your mom was also unnatural," Zooty's retort came from the Machine and he gave a smirk.

"Ah Zooty," he shook his head, "50,000 years of evolution only happened to other people, don't you think so."

Zooty stuck his nose in the air, pulled on bottom of the vest and the announcer over the PA announced their names to the cheering fans. Taking their tops hats in perfect sync stuck them both on thier heads, turned in step, and using the roller skates on their shoes skated out onto the stage, to the thundering cheers of all present.

"Welcome, welcome," Rebo called out as they stopped on the stage and with flicks of their feet thier skates soared in the air and catching each others skates tossed them overhead and towards the audience, "Keep them! We'll take a cab."

"As long as the Religious aren't in there," Zooty added with the Machine, causing a quiet chuckle to run through the audience.

"Ah Zooty," Rebo tisked, stepping up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder, "It's the ones that mind their own business you need to worry about. The extremists though, their harmless."

"Like this?" A PPG appeared in Zotty hand and pointing it point blank at Rebo's crotch fired a shot. Rebo collapsed in a sob of pain, and as a cry of fear rose from the people watching them, he held up his hands and showed no damage to his manhood.

"It's all still there!" he exclaimed.

"Now you can still have your date."

"Date?" Rebo asked, "Who is this date I'll be with tonight?"

"Your right hand!" Zooty held up his right hand, causing the whole audience to roll with laughter from people who found the sick humor tickle their fancy.

Some claimed the Remnant Civil War was over. Well, officially it was. But Jake Thompson of the HRSS Advanced-X Omega Destroyer Shadow Walker knew it was anywhere but over with. He and his compatriots of the Shadow Squadron or at least the two other ships that hadn't bowed to the new government had for months fled the advancing might of the Terran Empire. While they made it look like Pax Romania throughout the galaxy, the truth was that they were being hunted down.

The ship shuddered as it took one of a number of consecutive hits from the pursuing White Star. Sparks lept from a console as the wiring that ran towards it ruptured, throwing the young woman back towards the wall behind her. He took little notice of it as they rerouted the controls to a different station. He could hear the groans of pain that the ship screamed into his mind.

"They are within range of the rear batteries sir," Commander Gilles reported from her station, the ship rocking again.

"Don't engage them just yet," he ordered.

"But our Starfury escort is wiped out," she responded, "And we've suffered twenty percent damage to our engines."

"Give me rear view and drop us down to one-fifth impulse and don't fire," he ordered and he could feel Gilles' questioning glance, "Do it!"

"One-fifth impulse," Helm replied, and he could feel the ship slow down.

"The White Star is one hundred kilometers and closing," weapons replied, "Ninety-five. Ninety. Eight-five."

Gilles was sweating with stress, her fists clenching. He knew she was getting to the breaking edge of losing her composure. But, he knew what he was doing. He hoped so. Or else they were all going to regret it. The view showed the White Star zooming through space as it approached them, firing weapons as it came.

"They're right on top of us sir!" Gilles snapped as the weapons officer reported the 'Fifty kilometer' mark.

But he was waiting. Even as the ship was struck by a shot and jolted, he waited. Like the spider in his trap.

"Thirty kilometers. Twenty. Ten."

"Sir!"

"Fire all batteries!" he ordered and every gun on the ship opened fire. He watched on screen as the White Star, which had been bearing down on them spiraled as the front section was hit, and each gun seemed to find it's mark. Soon, the ship exploded, the force of the explosion pushing the much larger ship and causing the entire bridge crew to sway from the impact.

He let out a long breath he didn't know he had been holding. He looked around, seeing most of them were still all in one piece. He could see his crew shaking slightly from the scare. But, this would be a day to remember. They had successfully taken on a White Star by themselves and had won. Lived for at least another day.

"All sections report status to Commander Gilles," he ordered through the ship-wide intercom. He leaned back, her glare shining through the dark on the battle-damaged bridge. The voices of the different section officers reporting in came over the normal post-battle chatter on the bridge.

"All sections have reported in," Giles replied, "Weapons suffered moderate damage along with the engines. A small hull breach is in the rear compartments. Engineering crew have been dispatched to the Starfury bays and the rear compartments. Engines will be repaired shortly. ETA to repairs completion: three hours."

"Instruct the Chief to focus most of his attention first on the engines and weapons," he ordered, "We can keep the rear compartments sealed as long as need be. What are our casualties?"

"Seven dead, ten wounded," she replied.

"Helm," he ordered, "Resume our course to the rendezvous with the Bombard and Corrupter near Alpha Megus," he said, standing up, "Lt. Commander Hitchins, you have the conn. If you will join me, Commander Gilles."

Both officers replied with an "Aye, sir" although Gilles was less forth coming then young Hitchins was. He strode off the bridge, the young attractive XO following him. He made towards his Quarters, wishing that his Ready Room hadn't been all but destroyed in the last engagement with Alliance forces. His quarters were two levels down from the bridge, but soon they made it, neither speaking as they passed by repairs crews.

The door slid shut behind them as they entered his quarters. He walked to his bed, and turning sat down on the edge, shaking his head. It was so odd for him to have an officer under his command that he shared a mutual attraction that she had for him. But now was not the time for such thoughts.

"Commander," he said, rubbing his dark hands together, "I realize that you must do what is right. But, I do not appreciate you debating my orders in front of the crew. I value your opinions, but only if they are respectfully given. Shouting them does nothing to ease the crews nerves during a battle situation."

He paused to let her speak, but she held her mouth firmly shut. A few seconds passed in silence. Neither willing to talk. But, Thompson knew his woman as it were, and she spoke first.

"We have been lucky," she said, "Lucky that the Empire hasn't considered us a serious threat. But what happens when they do? You refuse to call in reinforcements, and you pull stunts like that. You'll get us killed one day when your luck runs out."

"We all die," he reminded her.

"We don't only have our lives to worry about," she countered, "Ever man and woman on this ships depends on us to do all we can to save them."

"What would you have me do?" he asked, "Call in the only two ships allied with us? Fighting this way allows us to keep alive. Our idea of the Remnant alive. If we all died at one go, the dream and any who would resist the Emperor and his allies would be discouraged."

Gilles clamped her jaw firmly, clearly angry. Thompson knew it wasn't only the recent battle that was trying her. She had put in for a transfer just before the Sh'lassen Campaign. They had planned on pursuing a relationship once she got on another ship. But, the destruction of the Government and the continual fight and flight of the past four months had changed any plans they had.

"Go get some sleep," he said with a sigh, knowing he could never fulfill her or his desires, "You'll feel better afterwards."

She turned and left him without saluting and he looked up at the ceiling as she left. Dad? If there is an Afterlife and you are there, help me make the best decision.