TWELVE

Though reticent at first, as the meal progressed the officers began to include Ivanova in their conversation. Even so, the topics were trivial and even then some chose their words carefully, remaining guarded about what they said. She began to relax once it became obvious to her that, with General Lefcourt at the head of the table, they were on their best behaviour for his benefit, not hers.

The recent events were rarely mentioned and only then in passing. Mitchell and Lefcourt were more interested in her time on Babylon 5 and the various races, and their ambassadors, which Ivanova had encountered.

“You’ll find a different change of pace sitting in the Captain’s chair,” Lefcourt told Ivanova as the dessert plates were being cleared away. “The routine is more routine, with everyone having their own little piece of sky to fly in.”

“And you’re commanding the Titans?” Mitchell said.

“That’s right,” Ivanova replied. She saw that the name had piqued Niebisch’s interest.

“And your crew?” Lefcourt asked.

With the serving staff pouring coffee for the officers, Ivanova reached down for the leather pouch that she had put under her chair as she sat down. She unzipped the pouch and handed the first pages to Lefcourt.

“It certainly looks like they have put together a good team for you,” Lefcourt told Ivanova as he scanned down the initial crew list. He handed the top page to Mitchell, pointing out one of the names on the list.

“Amelia Graydon, Charlie,” Lefcourt said. From the look on Mitchell’s face, the Captain was already ahead of him as he pored over the names.

“You’ve got Mel as your XO!” Mitchell exclaimed as Ivanova flicked through the stack of pages for Graydon’s profile. The crew profiles had been alphabetised rather than put in order of rank when she first went through them. In her cabin, Ivanova had spread the pages out across her bunk gathering together the background histories of her bridge crew and the heads of the ship’s departments. Even then she had only given them a cursory glance, preferring to let first impressions count before exploring their EarthForce records in depth.

“You’ve served with her?” Ivanova asked as she looked up from the paperwork.

“Long before my promotion,” Mitchell explained as he studied the sheet. “This was on the Furies, just before Stephanie Eckland took command. Amelia was a junior officer then, but she soon made her mark. She had been one of the Simulations Assistants back on her first ship. Failed the Captain on every drill from what I heard.”

“That’s something to watch out for,” Lefcourt jokily warned Ivanova.

“One time we had a jump engine misfire as we were escorting a supply run back from Ceti Gamma II,” he continued. “It could have torn the ship apart. But it was really down to Amelia that it didn’t happen. That helped her get her gold stripe.”

Ivanova turned to Lefcourt, impressed.

“Robbie, you were on the Pournelle,” Mitchell said to Fairclough who shifted around in his chair to face the head of the table. “David Maddison?”

“Maddison? He was the third watch navigator,” Fairclough said with a chuckle. “Give Dave my regards,” he told Ivanova.

“And don’t play him at chess. Or cards for that matter. Where ever you want to go, Dave will get you there.”

Ivanova watched and listened as Lefcourt went down the list reeling off names. Most of the Apollo’s officers were either familiar with, or aware of, most of the senior and junior officers who would be under Ivanova’s command, having served with them prior to their most recent promotion or posting. A few names brought blank looks and Ivanova leafed through the profiles to identify the person. Although they were guarded at first, as the names were read out Lefcourt and Mitchell goaded their officers into revealing the sort of information the officer in question would hope never appeared on his official record.

“What is said here stays here,” Lefcourt reassured them. Soon they began to freely reminisce and share experiences of their tours on a variety of ships of the fleet.

“Edward Dantes,” Lefcourt called out. “Anyone?” he asked after the conversation was brought to an abrupt halt.

“Yes, sir,” Ellen Morton said from the far end of the table. Morton had been one of the officers who refused to look Ivanova in the eye when she arrived in the officer’s mess. Throughout the meal, when the officers seated beside her engaged her in conversation, Ivanova had glanced down and caught the odd icy look from her.

“I served with him before my posting here and his transfer to the Cadmus,” Morton explained.

“Which ship was that on?” Lefcourt asked, missing the brief looks some of the officers were already exchanging.

“The Agrippa, sir, under Captain Smith,” Morton stated matter of factly.

The room fell silent. Ivanova looked down at her files, hearing a sigh from General Lefcourt.

Alongside Roanoke, Agrippa had been despatched to Babylon 5

by President Clark with instructions to take command of the station by force. Expecting to face only the station’s defences, both destroyers had come face-to-face with the Alexander, one of the first ships to turn against Clark, and the Churchill. In the ensuing battle both Roanoke and Agrippa had been destroyed. The Roanoke was broken in half after being rammed by the badly damaged Churchill on the command of its Captain, Sandra Hiroshi. Finding an excuse to shuffle through the pages in front of her, Ivanova felt her cheeks flush. Rather than watch the battle from Babylon 5’s command deck, she had taken command of a Starfury fighter wing that attacked both the Omega-class Destroyers.

As Lefcourt continued down the list they discovered other members of crew connected to ships like the Pollux and Orion,

which had been destroyed by the rebel fleet after refusing to stand down, or the Excalibur, which had was destroyed near Io by forces loyal to Clark while helping the Alexander, at the time under the command of General Haig, escape into hyperspace. Lefcourt would give everyone a moment of quiet contemplation in respect for the dead before bringing up another name. On more than one occasion Ivanova noticed him foundering as he skipped over a couple of names on the sheet, not wanting to bring up someone whose career he was familiar with that was connected to an Earth Alliance ship that had fared badly in the rebellion.

By the time the officers around the table excused themselves to return to their posts or prepare for their next watch, Ivanova knew just enough about the crew waiting her arrival that she wouldn’t be thrown by any surprises.

“You’ve got a good crew,” Lefcourt told her. When the staff came to clear the table he asked for more coffee for himself and Ivanova. Once they were alone he settled back in his chair and absently patted his jacket.

“Back at Earthdome I would be having a cigar about now,” he admitted sheepishly. “One of the things about being in space that I truly miss.”

He handed back the pages to Ivanova, glancing at some of the photographs.

“So what do you think?” Lefcourt asked.

“I think they certainly sound able,” Ivanova replied. Lefcourt nodded and took a sip of coffee.

“As they should,” Lefcourt said. “But I sense a ‘but’

coming on.”

“It worries me that I appear to be getting off so lightly,”

Ivanova told him. “Of course that may just be the Russian in me, or the experience from working for four years on Babylon 5.”

“You received a full pardon from the President,” Lefcourt said. “Any officer and enlisted man whose duty is to their homeworld and not just one man should see it that way. Especially after some of the atrocities that were carried out were brought to light. Maybe this time you should simply take it for what it is. But keep on the lookout just in case.”

Ivanova nodded. She zipped the pages back into the pouch, drained her coffee cup and stood up to go.

“General, I’d like to thank you for what you did for John - Captain Sheridan,” Ivanova told him.

As his parting gift, President Clark had turned the Global Orbital Defence-grid against Earth. To save the planet from nearcomplete annihilation, Sheridan had instructed the fleet to destroy the chain of defence platforms before their Particle Beam cannons could come online.

With the forward cannons on the Agamemnon destroyed, Sheridan set about ramming the last remaining satellite before the fully charged beam could decimate the Eastern Seaboard of the continental United States. Initially disabled in orbit around Mars, the Apollo had appeared in time to take out the platform and saving the Agamemnon from destruction.

“Our orders changed,” Lefcourt declared with a grin. He shrugged. “I’m sure John would have done the same for me.”

Ivanova stood to one side of General Lefcourt and Captain Mitchell on the bridge of the Apollo as the Destroyer jumped out of hyperspace.

She watched on the monitors as, ahead of them Starfury fighters swept past in tight formation, patrolling a perimeter ringed with missile platforms that encircled a massive shipyard floating in space.

“This is Cyrus Shipyard Control to EAS Apollo. You are cleared for docking, on approach vector three-niner,” a voice announced over the intercom.

The Apollo changed course as it swept past the outer defence grid with a quartet of Starfuries escorting them in. On the fringes of the shipyard, Omega-class Destroyers were lined up alongside each other. Held in place by large gantry arms ringed with floodlights, their immobile centre-sections stood vertically as they were being retro-fitted and repaired.

Automated Cam-Bots swarmed around the ships, carrying out repairs to their hulls. Ivanova squinted to try and read the Destroyers’ names. She only saw one name: Delphi. Shortly after the liberation of Proxima III, when both the Centauri Republic and Narn Regime issued a joint statement declaring their support for his actions, the Delphi engaged Sheridan's forces, but retreated after being damaged. She glanced over to Lefcourt who had identified the ship as well and raised an eyebrow. As the Apollo moved closer to the centre of the shipyard, Ivanova could make out a line of four massive walls suspended in space. Equidistant from each other, the giant slabs of metal appeared to be held together by nothing more than comparatively delicate frame works, top and bottom, which supported the large lighting rigs. Facing inwards, the rows of lights illuminated the trio of new Warlock-Class Destroyers, each in a different stage of construction.

Bright yellow Construction Furies fussed around the mighty constructs. Their grappling arms extended to offer the workers in EVA suits, surrounded by bursts of flashing light, the hull plates to be welded to the superstructure. On one ship, stripped of its armoured skin, Ivanova could see the sextet of fusion reactors that would eventually push the completed vessel through the emptiness of space. On another the finished sections of the ship’s hull were pockmarked with shallow craters, as it patiently waited for the Pulse Cannon turrets to be fitted into place. Even peeled apart like a body undergoing an autopsy, the ships seemed to dwarf the slender Omega-Class Destroyers. Illuminated boards running along the top of the connective framework proudly identified the three ships as the Sorcerer, Necromancer and Enchantress.

“The new Warlock-Class Heavy Destroyers,” Lefcourt announced. “And there’s your ship,” he said to Ivanova. A different view on the monitors showed a fifth wall that had been moved much further apart from the others. The gantries that would have once connected to the ship, allowing materials to be moved from the cavernous workshops inside the metal, had also been retracted to make room for shuttles to maneuver freely around the completed ship, delivering the supplies it needed for its maiden voyage.

“EAS Titans,” Mitchell murmured. Aboard the Apollo’s bridge the crew looked up from their stations to stare at the ship directly ahead of them. Lefcourt turned to Ivanova, grinned as he said, “What do you think of your new ride.”

Lost for words, Ivanova nodded in appreciation. “It will do,” she finally managed, which got a snorting repost from Captain Mitchell.

Truth be told, the Titans didn’t have the simple grace of the Omega-class ships, which themselves paled in comparison to the sculpted elegance of most of the ships from the various races that formed the Interstellar Alliance. But what it lacked in style it made up for in sheer bulk and brute strength.

Ivanova turned to the General.

“Do you have to go straight back to Earth?” she inquired. Lefcourt pursed his lips as he looked at the screens.

“Not right away,” he said, already two steps ahead of her.

TITANS