I don't own Babylon 5.
Everything Nightwatch is is a knife to the ribs.
"Thanks for this, Michael; things are getting hectic down in MedLab," Stephen said as he sat down at the dinner table in Michael's quarters, the smell of Garibaldi's cooking making his stomach ache with longing. He had been trying to wean himself off of the Stims and he had asked for the next senior doctor in line to take over for tonight so he could have a decent meal and some sleep. With the martial law order declared back home and the madness washing over the galaxy thanks to the Shadows' manipulations, Stephen had been extra-busy recently but ever since the Markab's died out he had been trying to wean himself off of the drugs so he didn't suffer from any ill-effects.
Stephen needed to keep watch on the drug level in his system to see how well his efforts were going although he was uncertain if he could do it considering how hectic MedLab was at times.
"Hey, I needed to cook, anything to shake off the knowledge of what's going on out there," Michael replied.
Stephen looked up at Michael's back shrewdly; the doctor knew full well how his friend had dozens of contacts and he knew a great deal about what was going on back home. In any case, his voice was a damn giveaway. He knew Michael was furious about what had happened in the main security office, how the Nightwatch leader had thrown him out. It was no wonder he wanted to do something practical and something he enjoyed that had nothing to do with his job.
"What've you heard?"
"What do you mean?"
Stephen groaned. "I meant what's going on back home and on the colonies? I know you know, Michael. And don't pretend you haven't heard anything."
Garibald's back tensed and he came back to the table with a pot containing spaghetti bolognese. One whiff of it was enough to make Stephen's stomach lining peel with desire.
"Pretty much everything that's happening here is going on everywhere; on Proxima 3 a band of GROPOS were sent to put down a riot."
"Thanks," Stephen replied, taking the plate before looking up in horror and shock. "What? A band of GROPOS? That's like trying to mend an antique pocket watch with a hammer and chisel."
"You haven't heard the worst of it," Garibaldi was so angry with the news he pretty much dumped the plate of garlic bread on the table so hard Stephen was terrified the plate would shatter into little bits, somehow it survived. "Several people were actually killed in the riots, shot by the GROPOS."
"What?" Stephen could not believe the military would follow the order to do that. "Wait a minute, how long had the riots gone on for?"
"4 days. That was more than enough time for the GROPOS to be sent in," Michael sat down and slammed both of his fists which were curled so tightly that the skin of his knuckles and fingers had turned white. Stephen didn't react, he knew Michael was like an unexploded bomb right now and he wondered if the others who'd heard this so far had come to feel the same. "I'm sorry," Michael said after he spent a few moments taking in deep, slow, steady breaths, "I shouldn't have done that."
"No, don't be sorry, I'm just as furious as you are," Stephen replied before he looked down at his cooling food. "Anyway, shall we eat?"
"Sure, good idea."
Together the two men started to eat, Stephen gently forked and curled some of the meat and sauce covered spaghetti onto his spoon before he pushed it into his mouth.
"Why did they send GROPOS, surely the colony has its own law enforcement group?" He asked, unable to get his mind off what he had just heard.
"They do," Michael didn't want to talk about the incident which had already made him really angry, but he had more or less calmed down enough to explain what he knew, "The governmental authority of Proxima sent the report of the riot and how many were protesting having a murderer running as a president. Some of the government themselves were backing it, but only a token effort was being made to stop it. It wasn't even a large enough riot for the government of the colony to be concerned about. In any case, many actually supported the notion of Clark being forced out of office since many of his policies hit them badly since they rely on alien trade as well as ours."
Stephen had by now worked out enough to fill in the blanks. He also knew that thanks to Clark imposing new laws on alien goods, the colony had lost a lot of business. In the past, Proxima had been an important cog in the trade between aliens and Earth, but Clark had put so many restrictions on the place it was amazing the colony was still standing. It was no wonder there had been a riot, and many people wanted Clark to get out of office. "And Clark took the law into his own hands, right?"
Michael nodded and took a swig of his water. He needed to stop his vocal cords from drying up. "That's it, but it is also a sick message; Clark wants everyone to know martial law has triumphed, he's still at the top."
"How does he imagine he's gonna get away with this? I mean, surely he knows that he will be tried and likely imprisoned, right?"
Michael had a more pragmatic view of the universe than his friend. He had a feeling Clark already knew that, even while he was out of control right now. Clark was like an obsessive little boy, throwing himself excitedly around with a new toy, but Michael knew in time Earth Gov would mobilise against him and do something about him. But something told him Clark had no intention of being taken alive, but he wasn't going to say anything to Stephen. It was only a hunch. There was a chance some in the military would do something and push Clark and his bastard buddies out of power.
Babylon 5 had enough on its plate as it was. God, their job was to create peace instead they'd failed; the Shadows were out there, half of the galaxy was in tatters with the Centauri going on a rampage, conquering Narn and enslaving the Narns while fighting dozens of little skirmishes.
"I don't think so, Stephen."
"What do you mean?"
"Just that," Garibaldi replied, and with his stiff posture, it was clear he didn't want to talk about it. Instead, he turned his mind over to what went down in the Security office. Sheridan was right. Going there had been a mistake, he had been humiliated and thrown out, but made it worse was how he'd known all of the guys there.
3 years.
For 3 years he had been putting his security detail together. And now they were tearing themselves to pieces over a piece of cloth. Garibaldi had been keeping watch on the Nightwatch the moment it began its poisonous spread on Babylon 5, and he knew he wasn't alone. He had no doubt Sheridan or Ivanova hadn't been doing their own research into Nightwatch, and they'd liked it as less as he had but they couldn't have done anything about it.
And now Nightwatch had taken over security, and because of the poison spewed out by the Ministry of Peace back home, they were at each other's throats. But what stunned him the most was how Nightwatch had poisoned the minds of so many people both within Earthforce and outside, with people going out of their way to point the finger, spy on their friends and loved ones, but they knew or they must have known what they were doing was wrong. Garibaldi didn't understand how people could change like that.
He had given some of those guys a job where nobody else would have given them anything, he'd even helped one of them find a wife! What do they do, they cared more about some stupid cloth. They thought everyone outside of Nightwatch, those who didn't believe the crap their brains had been poisoned with were disloyal to Earth.
Everything Nightwatch is is a knife to the ribs, Garibaldi thought to himself, but what makes it worse is how they twist and poison people's heads. How the hell did Clark do this so easily? Does he have help? It seems hard to believe, but the bastard has no natural charisma of his own.
Until the next time...
Oh, by the way, if you feel like sponsoring me on Pa-treon just look up the Stargate Time Traveller there.