Chapter 36: All's Not Well

The explosion tore through the Civic Center of Nova Moscow. The ground for miles around trembled with the force of the explosion. At the time there was a major school dance going on, with five hundred students there from three schools. All but a few died and those that survived all agreed on one point. The song that had been playing had anti-Clark sentiments, and it was during the last verse it had exploded.

Clark immediately made a speech saying that his people had nothing to do with the bombing. Only problem was, the news sources hadn't yet gotten much information on what happened, and the immediate denial of responsibility before the news was leaked backfired on Clark. Within four hours, half the stores on Epsilon 3 had been looted and fifty members of Night Watch had been lynched. A day would pass before the rioters were suppressed by Riot Teams from Remnant Security.

But, Bester had gotten the result he wanted. The populace was at war against the government.

The revolt having begun, he decided to do what was necessary. D-n be caution. There are some duties that go beyond caution and reason.

He sat in the chair by the bed, heavy plastic walls surrounding the patient to keep her from being exposed to the outside air. He wanted to touched her, but the doctors had told him their treatments were highly experimental, and they had no idea what his physical interaction would do. Slowly he reached out with his mind and brushed against her mind.

Alfred?

Yes, love?

I'm frightened.

I know. I know.

Clark paced around the library of the Presidential Mansion, a towering fury and rage boiling inside him. How dare they? He wasn't responsible for what happened at that student dance. Why would the people believe such lies? His security were sweeping the premises, grabbing stones and rocks that had been thrown and tossing them into the street.

"Now you see don't you?" Mr. Morden said, sitting in the chair by the small fireplace, "You should have let us handled the situation our way. Your world is in flames, Mr. President."

"Don't you think I know that?" he barked at him, "And everything was going so well too. And according to General Hague, the Nemesis just defected to Sheridan, destroying the Starfury squadron sent out to stop them. Isn't there anything you can do?"

"My associates have engaged their larger issues," the man said, "We would appreciate it if our allies could keep a handle on things."

"Handle on things you say," he snorted, "And how am I to do that?"

"Next riot have your forces fire upon them."

Clark stopped and looked sharply at Morden. "You can't be serious," Clark said.

"Oh," Morden held up a finger, "Quiet serious. You want order, Mr. President? You are going to need to use strength."

Captain Thompson laid back on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling. They had just defeated a small holding force at the Minbari planet of Twiaz. The action had been swift, yet decisive. And it made him wonder about his father. He wasn't a very good General. How then had he been able to pull off all these victories, heck, he'd all but annihilated the Minbari forces before Marrain's fleet arrived on the scene.

He didn't like where the line of thought would carry him. Especially in such an environment such as this. Who knew who would be watching him. The door chimed and he didn't really turn towards it.

"Enter," he said, and the door popped open, allowing his second-in-command access, "Ahhh, couldn't sleep either I see."

"Never was much of a heavy sleeper, sir," Gilas said.

"In here we have no ranks," he said, "So what is on your mind, Sam?"

"Well, sir," she said, "A bunch."

"Please," he said, "You really don't have to be formal in here with me. These are my quarters. Call me, Jake."

"Okay..." she said, and like trying on a pair of shoes for size, "Jake."

He drummed on his chest and said, "Just tell me the one thing that's on your mind that brings you here to see me."

She took a deep breath. "I'm having feelings towards a certain member of the crew," she admitted.

"I feel sorry for whomever it is," he joked, "You are a regular-"

"Towards you sir."

He closed his eyes and pushed himself up to a sitting position. His Caucasian first officer was a very capable officer, and he respected her a ton. But, how does one go about such a situation.

"If it makes you feel any better," he said, looked up at her green eyes, "I have feelings for you as well."

Her green eyes went wide in shock. How many times did one have feelings that were reciprocated. Or, wouldn't returned the feelings of someone else. It was hard enough in a regular work environment. But here, in the military, it presented a very dangerous situation.

"I didn't realize you did sir," she said, "Even when you held my hand on the bridge that onetime, I assumed it was just to encourage me."

"Listen Sam," he said, "We must be very careful about these feelings. They could be dangerous. Imagine a situation where I'd have to send you into danger. Or, if I had to make you leave the ship and leave me behind. No, I can't put you through that. I respect you too much as a soldier and person to do so."

"I know," she said in dejected manner, "But, it's extremely hard."

He smiled at that and rising to his feet placed his hand on her arm and lifted her to her feet and began to walk her towards the hatch. It was just going to be easier to leave it at that. Even as he held her, he took a look at his own darker skin tone and her fair skin.

"Let's just keep it professional," he said, "No need to be embarrassed. Nothing happened here. Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes?" she asked, as he grabbed the latch to open the hatch door.

"If we did have a relationship," he said, "Just think of what the children would look like."

"What?"

"Oreos."