	Staring at the casualty report, Vice Admiral Brahms had lost his appetite several pages ago.  Although almost half of the Third Fleet had survived and had joined him in Gamma Draconis, it stilled paled in comparison to the amount of possible civilian casualties.  Over six million civilians made it to Gamma Draconis, and he knew that over one hundred million made it to the Vega or Epsilon Pegasi, but that still left over another hundred million unaccounted for.

	His office on board the GTD Victorious was dark, he didn't feel like having any lights on.  Instead he let the bright green light from the nebulas near Gamma Draconis light his office.  Putting down the casualty report on his desk, he picked another equally disturbing report.

	The radiation shockwave from Capella was estimated to pass through Gamma Draconis in under three years.  When it did, nothing could protect any life in the system, and that meant that the refugees and the survivors of Third Fleet would have to move to the Nebula to survive, into Shivan controlled territory.  For now they were safe though, the Shivans left with little or no fuss, and he hoped it stayed that way.  By the time they would have to leave, all of the ships in the fleet would have been repaired, and they would give the Shivans a good fight.

	The door to his office opened slightly and male ensign stuck his head through the door.  The ensign was still dirty, so was everyone else in the fleet, repairs taking precedence over being clean or not.

	"Do you need anything sir?" the ensign asked quietly.

	Brahms put the report down and stretched his arms.  "A good shot of rye would be nice."

	"Sorry sir, the officers club took a direct hit."

	"Any casualties?"

	"No sir.  The bartender was manning a flak turret at the time."

	A small snickered escaped.  "Good.  I've been meaning to have that place redecorated away."

	The ensign agreed and closed the door.  Brahms stood and looked into the swirling mass of green gases.  He could see other ships in the fleet, the GTCv Phoenix was in particular close proximity to the Victorious, probably moving closer to give the repair crews a shorter trip between ships.

	*Rough times ahead.*  Brahms nodded, agreeing with himself.