FOUR

The shuttle swept in low over the Gulf of Finland. As the pilot banked on his approach to the EarthForce garrison west of Pulkovo Airport, Ivanova pressed her face against the port window, eager to catch a glimpse of the early morning sunlight reflecting off the gilded dome of St. Isaac’s Cathedral which, she was heartened to see, still managed to dominated the skyline of St. Petersburg four centuries after its completion. Once the ship had touched down, Ivanova remained seated while the other passengers who had accompanied her from Mars hurriedly disembarked. She wanted to savour the moment, not rush it. Coming back to St. Petersburg, it felt like a homecoming even though, truth be told, there was no actual home for her to return to. But if Ivanova was to enjoy this second chance at life, as Garibaldi suggested, where better to start than the land, and the city, where she had been born.

During dinner with Franklin and Garibaldi, as the conversation touched on her returning to Earth, Ivanova was struck by the realisation that this would be the first time in over four years that she had set foot on a planet’s surface. The

only time she hadn’t walked the metal decks of either space stations or space ships was when she had journeyed down to Epsilon 3, the barren planet Babylon 5 orbited. Even then it was specifically to visit the caverns housing the mysterious and powerful Great Machine. To get there meant piloting a shuttle four and a half miles straight down into a dark fissure, and in Ivanova’s opinion that did not count.

“That’s pretty much the same for us,” Franklin had said.

“You’ve both come back from Mars,” Ivanova countered.

“And we were underground with the resistance most of the time. At least I was,” he said, turning to Garibaldi.

“Most of the time?”

“I was in MarsDome and the Edgars compound,” Garibaldi admitted as he looked at their faces. “Okay, so I was outside when we captured that observation post. But that was only because we had to trudge miles around the landing field to avoid detection.”

“Outside, on the surface,” Ivanova said.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a stroll in the countryside. You’re wearing a breather all the time and scrabbling around over all that dust and rock.”

“Still outside,” Ivanova announced. “That still counts.”

Now, as she climbed out of her seat ready to leave the shuttle, Ivanova felt almost giddy with excitement. The breaks in the journey to Earth had offered little more than repeatedlyrecycled air and flavoured, perpetually reclaimed water while she sat in transfer lounges on orbiting stations, waiting to be shuttled from one ship to another. But each stop had advanced her forward one more stage and this was the reward. Ivanova stopped at the hatch to savour the moment. A military base, with its rows of hangers, refuelling stations, administration blocks and control towers was probably not the most ideal location but it would do. She took a deep breath, feeling the crisp, cold air that tingled against her cheeks burn inside her lungs.

She walked down the steps onto the tarmac and looked up at the clouds that hung, almost motionless above her. Crowned with childish white daubs lit by the sun, their swollen blue-grey bellies, feathered at the edges, gave the promise of snow. She looked beyond them, up into the pale blue sky. The overlapping throaty roars of jet and rocket engines broke the silence and she squinted at the sunlight reflected off the metal fuselage of a passenger liner lifting off from the airport runway.

Just once, in the stillness before battle, Ivanova had promised herself that if she ever made it back to Earth she would visit St. Petersburg, Paris and her father’s grave. Up until now it had always seemed like an abstract concept; words mentioned in passing that had no real relevance. Although Paris would not be on the itinerary this time, she was choked with the realisation that she was actually home.

“Captain Ivanova?” a voice called out.

She turned and noticed a transport parked to the side of the landing pads, the young driver, who looked like he had come straight out of the Academy, standing beside it. She walked towards him, noticing how the cold made him tremble as he stood to attention and saluted.

“The base commandant requests your presence,” he said, opening the door for her.

She saw the tiny figures dressed in grey general staff uniforms that had joined her on the flight disappearing toward the distant hangers.

“I think I might walk,” she said as the driver relieved her of the carry-on luggage. She could already feel the cold biting into the fabric of her uniform but the opportunity to breath fresh air and stretch her legs seemed too good an opportunity to miss. “Which direction is it?”

The driver pointed away from the hangers, across the crisscross of runways to a small administration block that flickered like a mirage through the heat haze from the jet engines.

“The driver will be quicker,” the driver announced, helping her find the excuse she needed to change her mind.

General Gorev, the commander of the St Petersburg garrison, was a ruddy-faced man in his late fifties with steel-grey hair shorn into a severe crew-cut and a large barrel chest.

“Captain Susan Ivanova. The hero of the Motherland!” he announced with a flourish as Ivanova reported to his office. Arms outstretched as he stepped from behind his desk, Gorev embraced her in a crushing bear hug. When his hot flesh pressed against hers as he kissed both her cheeks, Ivanova smelt the faintest hint of vodka.

“Now you are back, yes?” he said. “After liberating us from the deathly grip of that evil man.”

Ivanova wondered if the General had spoken so openly when the planet was under Clark’s rule. She knew that in Russia, now as it has always been, that the way to survive was to know which way the wind was blowing, geographically and politically.

“I have two days before I report to EarthDome,” Ivanova told him, although it was clear that Gorev already had a copy of her itinerary.

“And you chose to spend it in your home country. Good. A wise decision. Natalya will assign you a billet. The driver is at your disposal for your stay here.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll find my own way,”

Ivanova said.

Gorev frowned.

“You are without an overcoat,” he observed, as he looked her up and down. Ivanova had fully intended to requisition one once she arrived at the base.

“Cold of space, not like cold of Russia!” Gorev exclaimed. He pushed down on the intercom and called his secretary into the office.

Ivanova had already met Natalya Castranov after the driver had deposited her outside the administration block. With her pale

white face and black hair pulled back tight against her head and braided into a ponytail, she had looked like a frail bird sat behind the computers at the secretary’s station. Up from behind the desk, Ivanova was surprised to find that she was taller than expected with more meat on her slender bones.

“Our hero Captain needs suitable clothing to wear out,”

Gorev explained to Natalya, using his hands to trace the shape of an overcoat in the air in front of him.

Natalyla nodded sharply and made a sharp exit. Gorev’s eyes trailed after her as she left.

“Nyet, nyet, nyet!” Gorev he admonished her when she returned with a standard issue leather long coat. “This is not right for the hero of the Russian Consortium.”

From the look he gave her, the secretary knew what was required. She returned almost immediately, this time with a fur coat draped over her forearm. Given that they were roughly the same build, Ivanova suspected the woman had not had to look too far.

“Good, yes?” Gorev asked after he instructed Ivanova to try it on. He returned to his chair, eyeing her agreeably as she herself admired the coat. “Very good.”

He turned to his secretary who was waiting by the open door.

“Natalya will see to your further requirements,” Gorev announced. Ivanova saluted the General and left the office.

Ivanova stood in the outer office while Natalya sorted out temporary accommodation for her in the officer’s quarters. She absently dug her hands into the coat pockets as she looked at the framed photographs of past Consortium Premiers, which was the only decoration in the otherwise faceless office. Her fingers snagged against something thin and hard and Ivanova pulled out a credit chit, which she turned over in her hand.

“Yours, I think,” she said. Looking up from the monitor Natalya nodded thanks as Ivanova passed it across to her.

“Officer’s quarters are at the near end of the barracks. You are assigned to S211. The driver will be available should you require transportation off-base?”

The door to the outer office opened behind them bringing with a faint chill from outside. Natalya looked up from her desk and Ivanova, off to one side, turned to see a grim-faced EarthForce officer standing in the doorway.

“Captain Gregor Vasney,” he announced, eyeing Ivanova suspiciously.

“The General is expecting you. You may go in,” Natalya announced indicating toward Gorev’s office. Vasney nodded. He rapped on the door, entering without waiting for a reply.

Before the door closed behind him, Ivanova and Natalya heard General Gorev enthusiastically proclaim Vasney the hero of the Russian Motherland. Natalya gave Ivanova an almost consoling look.

“Here is your access card,” she said handing Ivanova an EarthForce-branded rectangle of plastic. “You are meeting people later for celebration?”

“I was born here. My parents died here. It is only them I have come to see,” Ivanova informed her. “There is nothing to celebrate. Only time for myself before I go back into space, if I am allowed.”

Natalya’s eyes narrowed. She nodded as she understood what Ivanova meant by being allowed to have time for herself.

“Because of the Interstellar Network News?” Natalya asked. Ivanova nodded.

“Because of ISN.”

Broadcast to Earth and its colonies, Interstellar Network News had only recently returned to normal service after the channel had been turned into an ugly propaganda tool for President Clark and its reporters imprisoned after attempting to uncover the corruption in EarthGov.

Back on the air, ISN had celebrated by reporting the demise of the dictator and the overthrow of his forces by Sheridan’s fleet. Like Universe Today, which had printed the amnesty decree awarded to Sheridan and the crew of Babylon 5 on its front page, ISN had solemnly broadcast news of Ivanova’s fatal injuries sustained during her engagement with Earth Alliance ships loyal to Clark.

When it was announced that Sheridan was promoting Ivanova, many had inferred it to be a deathbed promotion. By the time the media outlets ran follow-up pieces reporting that Ivanova’s injuries were obviously not as serious as first suspected and that she was leaving Babylon 5 to take command of an Earth Alliance warship, neither were headline stories. On the protracted journey to Earth, Ivanova had noticed people glancing in her direction, pointing her out to friends and colleagues. Conversations seemed to fall silent in her presence. In crowded departure lounges, where humans and aliens jostled to get to their ships on time, she had found space appear around her. On the rare occasions the transport had a hostess service, the crews had not been very successful in hiding their discomfort around her.

EarthForce personnel at Promixa Station had treated her well. Proxima III, after all, had been the first planet liberated by Sheridan and the White Star fleet, but Ivanova still felt an air of tension hanging over the general staff. The closer she had got to Earth and encountered personnel who, if not loyal to Clark, understood the regulations they were expected to follow, the more Ivanova sensed they just wanted her gone from their station.

“Take this,” Natalya said. She had gone to the small closet between the filing cabinets and returned with a large fur hat.

“This will help you blend in.”

Once inside her quarters, Ivanova laid the coat across the bed and placed the hat on top. As expected, her assigned billet was not much to speak of, but it had a firm mattress and a clean bathroom. The bathroom had a real shower, which was what she

needed after too many days in transit. As the water heated up she eagerly peeled off her uniform, gathered up her toiletries from the travel bag and stepped under the hot spray.