THREE

Ivanova stood at the window of the EarthForce Office, looking out over the entire length of the Hydroponics Garden. Finally she turned away, her hands brushed the fabric of the chairs as she wandered around. She circled the desk but had no inclination to sit down. This was where so many plans had been formulated and fates decided. First with Jeffrey Sinclair, before he was appointed Earth's ambassador to Minbar, then with John Sheridan after he had assumed command of the station.

“Having any thoughts about what it would be like from behind the desk?” Sheridan asked from the doorway.

Ivanova had patched into the Command & Control Deck, listening out for Sheridan’s arrival. She turned the volume down until the chatter, back and forth between the station and the ships coming in to dock seemed little more than a distant echo. Lieutenant Corwin had taken her place in the interim and, although his voice occasionally betrayed an occasional flutter of uncertainty, he was good at the job. It had been a year of shouldering additional responsibilities onboard Babylon 5 and the crew pretty much risen to accept any challenge.

“John... Sorry, Mister President,” Ivanova said, greeting him.

“I’m not sworn in yet so John will be fine,” he told her.

“We can leave our ranks outside the door.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” Sheridan apologised. Ivanova understood. Garibaldi and Franklin had organised a surprise party for Sheridan and Delenn to celebrate their wedding, which, it was reported, had taken place on the White Star during their journey back from Earth. She had not attended simply because personally she had not felt in the mood for celebrating, whether it was their wedding or the end of the war. She did want to see Sheridan before she left.

“Congratulations,” she said. “Where’s the blushing bride?”

“Getting herself acquainted with the rumba last I saw,” he said shaking his head. “Michael is certainly going to have a lot to answer for if she takes to it.”

“I’m sorry to drag you away from the festivities.”

“Don’t be silly,” Sheridan said. “Stephen told me and I wanted to see you.”

He sat down on the sofa and gestured for her to join him.

“So, you’re really going?” he asked as Ivanova sat down opposite him.

Ivanova nodded firmly.

“I ship out in three hours.”

Her quarters were stood bare with only the standard furniture remaining. The possessions had only filled two storage containers. They had been labelled and stowed away onboard the shuttle, along with the garment bag containing her spare uniform and hand luggage, ready for her departure.

“I wish you had waited to make your decision,” Sheridan said.

“Would you have tried to convince me to stay?”

“You know I would,” Sheridan said. “We need you here, Susan. Maybe now more than ever.”

“Which is why I couldn’t wait,” Ivanova replied. “Being here in this room reminded me of what we did here; the choices we made. Whether it was to put an end the Shadow War or free Earth from Clark’s tyranny. We made those choices and we decided our own fate.”

“And Marcus?”

Ivanova looked over to the far side of the room.

“It was over there where you first introduced him to us.”

“I remember,” Sheridan nodded.

“He didn’t give me the choice,” Ivanova said. “I shouldn’t be here, but I am. Now there are too many ghosts walking the hallways. I should be one of them.”

“Death is a life-changing experience,” Sheridan agreed.

“How do I make people understand that?” she asked.

“You don’t. They don’t have a frame of reference,” Sheridan told her.

He sagged down in the chair and for a moment he looked tired and vulnerable, like an old man whose body was slowly giving up on him. The years on Babylon 5 had taken a toll on all the command staff, none more so than Sheridan. After all the years of carrying the grief of losing his wife, he had been shocked to suddenly find Anna alive and well, a puppet of her new masters, the Shadows. Although she had been altered by them, and nothing remained of the woman he once knew, he had had to see her die a fiery death when he took the fight to the Shadows own doorstep. Just recently he had suffered torture and humiliation in his fight to rid his home of the evil that blighted it these past years. Now that it was done he had accepted probably the greatest responsibility any man could ever take on as the new President of the Interstellar Alliance.

“You look like you need a holiday,” Ivanova told him.

“Don’t we all,” Sheridan sighed. “Maybe I should have all the outer doors on the station sealed for the next year and we just kick back and relax in the Zen Garden.”

“That’s an idea,” Ivanova said.

“And we could start a baseball league!” Sheridan announced, suddenly all fired up.

“And that’s certainly another, very different idea,”

Ivanova said, perplexed at his sudden change in thinking.

“Can’t you see it?” Sheridan asked, sitting forward in his seat, suddenly animated. “Londo can be the umpire. We can have G’Kar pitching.”

“For the sake of my sanity, I have to say no,” Ivanova demanded.

“If Kosh was still here, he’d be in the outfield.”

Sheridan smiled and relaxed back into the chair.

“It’s been some adventure,” he said.

“An awfully big adventure,” Ivanova suggested, which made him laugh.

“When we were stationed together on Io, neither one of us could have imaged we would have lived through what we have.”

“Over ten years ago,” Ivanova said.

Sheridan lapsed into silence, thinking of how quickly the time had passed.

“So have you found someone to replace me?”

“I’m thinking about Elizabeth Lochley. I have a call scheduled with her later today.”

“Lochley?” Ivanova said. The name definitely rang a bell.

“You mentioned a Lochley when we were on Io. You married...”

Ivanova broke off and slowly shook her head as she made the connection. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I need someone I can trust implicitly. I’ll see if Delenn approves the idea, but I hope there won’t be a problem.”

Ivanova looked over and checked the time.

“Are you going back to Earth first or straight to your posting?” Sheridan asked.

“Earth first, for my briefing at EarthDome with General Smits.”

“How are you getting there?”

“Ah, the travel papers came through earlier. And, I’m taking the scenic route!” Ivanova pulled a folded document from her pocket and sighed as she scanned the text. “The transport goes from here to Sector 49. I have a ten-hour layover there, which will no doubt be fun, until the next ride takes me to Proxima. And that would be Proxima Station, not Proxima III or IV, so they’re keeping me in the military bases. From there to Io. Then on to Mars. After that I have to hustle a ride on the first ship back to Earth.”

“I think I can rustle up a White Star if you’d like, get you there in next to no time,” he said but Ivanova shook her head.

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think I can be aboard a White Star yet. It’s just too soon, you understand?”

“Of course,” Sheridan replied.

“And I should still get two days liberty if everything keeps to schedule,” Ivanova observed.

She stood up and held out her hand. Sheridan rose out of the chair and shook it warmly.

“It’s a pleasure to know you, and its been a honour to work with you, John,” she said.

“Likewise, Susan. Good luck with your commission. And you’re always welcome back here any time,” Sheridan replied.

“Hopefully things should quieten down here a little. I don’t think anyone will schedule another war or rebellion just yet.”

“At least not until the end of the week,” Ivanova said with a smile. Sheridan nodded.

“We might just catch a break this time,” he agreed.

As Ivanova started to go, Sheridan held her back for a moment.

“The one thing I learnt from death...” he confided, “is to enjoy every second of your life afterwards because it’s precious. The time you have is everything. Don’t forget that.”

Ivanova swallowed and smiled weakly. She squeezed Sheridan’s arm and walked out of the office.

Ivanova found Franklin waiting in the corridor to escort her to the docking bay.

“So are they sending you to command a listening post on some barren ball of rock?” Franklin asked.

“That depends, who would win the bet if I said yes, you or Michael?”

“Garibaldi,” Franklin admitted.

“Well, you would think,” replied Ivanova. She stepped to one side to allow a delegation of the Gaim to pass them. Of all the races that made up the League of NonAligned Worlds, now the Interstellar Alliance, the Gaim were perhaps the strangest she had ever encountered. Methane breathers who would suffocate if ever they were exposed to a normal atmosphere, the insectoid-like aliens wore their armoured encounter suits continually.

With a language that was impenetrable to the other races, and unable to learn any other languages themselves, chairing debates in the council chamber, Ivanova had always associated their voices with the detached electronic rasp of the computer translators.

“No, I’m overseeing the shakedown of the EAS Titans,”

Ivanova explained.

“The Titans? What is that?”

“The new Warlock class destroyer.”

“I’m impressed,” Franklin said. “And one hundred credits up.”

“Well, hurray for you,” Ivanova said.

They turned the corner and walked into the Zocalo.

“Well, this is an unusual route to get to the docking bay,”

she observed.

Ordinarily one of the most heavily populated parts of the station, the marketplace was heaving with even more people than

usual, all celebrating the end of the war and Sheridan and Delenn’s marriage. Ivanova pushed balloons out of her face as they skirted the crush of bodies.

“I thought you’d want to come and see what you were missing,” Franklin said.

Ivanova tried to catch up with him but Franklin disappeared into the crowd. She looked around her, saw a flash of red hair as Lyta Alexander weaved her way through the party. The telepath looked drained. She reached the bar and turned around. Her eyes narrowed, as if she was searching for the answer to a question she knew she should know. Then she fixed her gave on Ivanova and her face relaxed. The creases disappeared from her brow and she nodded, almost imperceptibly, as if she were sharing a secret. Ivanova smiled and raised her hand to wave goodbye. Revellers stumbled in front of her. When they were gone, so was Lyta. Along the bar sat Londo Mollari and G’Kar. The Centauri was downing drink after drink with complete abandon. His hearty laugh booming out as he regaled the Narn with what was probably another lively story about the gods in the Centauri temples. Though G’Kar looked like he was barely tolerating his fellow Ambassador, he stuck by his side, listening. Theirs was certainly an unusual partnership, Ivanova thought. Four years ago they were at each other’s throats. Now, after all the time they had spent together through the good and the bad, they had come to accept each other for who they were.

Ivanova imagined G’Kar look her way but she suspected she was mistaken. She was almost clear of the throng when somebody jabbed her playfully in her ribs.

“Peek-a-boo!” Garibaldi whispered in her ear. He spun Ivanova around, almost bowling her off her feet, as they spent a moment dancing to the music that reverberated through the hall.

“How’d you find me?” she asked, wiping coloured squares of confetti off his jacket.

“I wouldn’t be good at my job if I let you sneak out of here without saying goodbye.”

“Well, it’s a warship. You lost.”

“Damn!” smarted Garibaldi. “I just hate it when that happens.”

They took a breath as they joined Franklin.

“Listen, you look after yourself, okay?” Garibaldi said.

“However far you travel don’t forget about us. Don’t forget the old place.” He looked around at the happy bustle of people, soaking in the party atmosphere. “And always remember the secret of Babylon 5.”

Ivanova gave him puzzled look.

“I must have missed that meeting. So what is it?” she asked.

“Babylon 5 is all about second chances,” Garibaldi explained. “Since the Earth-Minbari War it has brought the different races even closer together, sure. But it also works on a more personal level. Look at G’Kar, who was swallowed up by his own rage when he came here. Or me for that matter.”

“I’d say in your case it’s been second, third and possibly four chances,” Franklin interjected.

“You see what I mean?” Garibaldi told her. “You always get another roll of the dice. Maybe this is your turn. This is your second chance. Don’t let the opportunity pass you by.”

“I won’t,” she assured him.

“Be good. And if you can’t, make sure you give me a couple of days notice,” Garibaldi said as she kissed him goodbye. Ivanova turned and suddenly found herself face to face with G’Kar. The reptilian alien stared at her suspiciously as light bounces over the mottled cranium. His deep-set eyes, mismatched in colour after a temporary blue-coloured artificial implant had been required to replace the red eye plucked out on the whim of the Centauri Emperor Cartagia, had once been filled with anger and vengeance. Now they suddenly twinkled with mischievousness. A wide grin spread across his face as he leant in toward Ivanova, his mouth close to her ear.

“Be careful out there amongst the humans,” he whispered. His grin spread even wider as Ivanova flung her arms around him and gave him a hug goodbye.

Franklin escorted her the rest of the way to the docking bay. As they said their goodbyes Ivanova gently kissed him on the cheek and wished him well. With that she turned and headed toward her waiting ship. Not once did she look back. Not even when she had taken her seat aboard the shuttle and passed through the station’s docking portal to rendezvous with the waiting transport.

ST PETERSBURG