THIRTEEN

Lieutenant Commander Amelia Graydon shifted her weight from one foot from the other, trying to contain her anger as she stood in the central landing bay of the Titans.

“The order came through from the OJC, Amelia, what else can we do?” Commander William Berensen whispered as he stood beside her, waiting as the shuttle from the Apollo negotiated its way through the series of space-locks to reach the landing bay. It was not a conversation he wanted to conduct in front of the ranks of officers and crew, lined up ready to greet their new Captain. Even worse, they were in the presence of EarthForce Senator John Feldon whose tour of the Cyrus Shipyard facilities had just happened to conveniently coincide with the launch of the Titans.

Debra Strickson, one of the aides to the Shipyard Commander had told Berensen, strictly off the record, that the doughy Senator had typically shown far greater enthusiasm for the reception held in his honour than the work they were doing here, pulling double shifts to get the fleet back up and running after what Feldon had called “the recent troubles back home.” Although he had diligently visited each ship, meeting and greeting the crew with the same enthusiasm he would have shown if he was back home on the campaign trail, the shipyard staff accompanying him had noticed his disappointment at the lack of further receptions awaiting him onboard.

“Don’t be taken in by his bonhomie either,” Strickson had also warned him. “there’s a reptilian mind at work in that overfed body of his. You don’t become a senator simply by kissing babies, you have to wring a few of their necks as well.”

If that was not bad enough, travelling with the Senator was Eldon Vathek, his personal aide. That was how he had been introduced to the officers of the Titans but it was obvious that he was personal security, and most definitely a telepath. From the glances Vathek was giving them, their whispered conversation was most probably ringing loud is his head. If he was lucky, Graydon would not return to her colourful opinions of the obviously flawed thought-processes of the Office of the Joint Chiefs and, in particular, Chief of Naval Operations who she considered to be nothing less than mentally defective.

“She fired on her own ships, killing officers and men we trained and worked with,” Graydon hissed.

“We’ve been here, not there,” Berensen muttered as he looked around him. “It was some bad business, but even you must have had doubts about what was happening back home, right?”

He looked over at the other officers standing behind them and wondered who else had real concerns about their new commander. During the past week, once the transfer had been confirmed, there had been rumblings amongst the crew but none had been so vocal as the Titan’s Executive Officer.

“I’ve put in calls to officers I know serving on the Vesta under Edward MacDougan. When Sheridan’s forces liberated Proxima III and then took on the fleet off Mars, they made a point of disabled the ships, not destroying them. The ones that went down fighting were hardliners,” Berensen said, trying to relax Graydon. “And there was misinformation coming out of Earthdome, warning the crews that if they surrendered they would be handed over to the Minbari who would execute them and take their ships. So let it go.”

Berensen looked over to see some of the officers looking in their direction. Even Senator Feldon briefly glanced in their direction as he cleared his throat. As for Vathek, he was preoccupied, pressing his balled fist hard into his right eyesocket. Berensen wondered if, having Graydon’s ire and opinions blasting away inside his head, he was coming down with the mother of all headaches. Having taken a step back from the Senator, the telepath was wavering on his feet and, judging from the concerned looks on the crew lined up directly behind him, looked like he was perilously close to toppling back into them. The large doors ahead of them finally began to part as the Apollo’s shuttle was guided through the final space-lock by the magnetic grapples before coming to rest in the landing bay.

“Have you got it all out of your system?” Berensen muttered to Graydon. She turned and glowered at him.

“Should I take that for a yes?” he suggested as they stepped up beside Feldon.

“Senator,” Berensen nodded, as the shuttle began to rotate around on the landing pad.

Berensen and Graydon took a step forward as the door to the shuttle’s passenger compartment slid open and the steps automatically extended.

“Attention,” Berensen barked and with the exception of the Senator everyone stood up straight, heels clicking together.

“Captain Ivanova, welcome abo--,” Graydon faltered as the first person to disembark was General Lefcourt.

As they had stood waiting for the hatch to open Lefcourt, not wanting to look like he was pulling rank, had insisted that Ivanova was first off. Instead she had demanded that he have the honour of being the first to set foot aboard the new ship. As he saw Graydon trying to recover and officers in the ranks attempt to stand even straighter to attention, Lefcourt suspected Ivanova had purposefully allowed him off first to put her new crew on the wrong footing. Although she had wanted to proudly show off her new command, Lefcourt knew that his appearance would add a little muscle to her arrival.

Her smile had given it away and he imagined that Ivanova, a couple of steps behind him, had a big grin plastered across her face, like the cat that got the cream. Although he had guessed

her motive correctly, his second assumption was wrong. As Ivanova followed him off she felt a sudden chill rush through her. Her hand grabbed the railing for support and she had the uneasy feeling deep inside her gut that she didn’t belong here. With Captain Mitchell bringing up the rear, Ivanova forced herself to keep moving forward until the three of them were finally standing on the deck.

“Captain Ivanova, welcome aboard the Warlock-class Destroyer Titans,” Graydon announced.

“Lieutenant Commander Graydon, it’s a pleasure to be here,”

Ivanova said, briefly returning her salute before turning to her new First Officer, “Commander Berensen.”

Graydon was shorter than Ivanova expected, perhaps only a couple of inches above the minimum regulation height. But Mitchell had warned her that what she lacked in stature she made up for in sheer force of will. Her honey blonde hair was cut short. With her piercing stare and taut, muscular body she certainly looked like a force to be reckoned with. Berensen on the other hand had a relaxed, almost casual air about him. Softer spoken, Ivanova imagined he used a more subtle approach when it came to giving orders or getting his point across rather than simply barking out commands. His hair was dark and wavy, like Mitchell’s, but carefully styled. She suspected there was a vanity lurking not far beneath the surface.

“General Lefcourt, this is an honour sir” Graydon said as both she and Berensen saluted. “Captain Mitchell. Welcome aboard the EAS Titans.”

“Lieutenant Commander,” Mitchell said with a sly grin.

“Don’t stand on ceremony for us,” Lefcourt said. “We gave Captain Ivanova a ride from Earth and she kindly invited us to take a tour, obviously to rub our noses in it.”

Ivanova chuckled at the suggestion.

“Your old bucket of bolts is still a fine ship Captain, don’t let it get you down,” Ivanova said to Mitchell in a loud stage whisper which elicited a hearty laugh from Lefcourt.

“Captain, may I introduce Senator John Feldon and his aide Eldon Vathek,” Berensen announced, turning towards the EarthForce representative.

Feldon stepped forward and shook Ivanova’s hand.

“Captain, it’s a great pleasure to meet you,” he said and actually sounded like he meant it.

“Senator,” Ivanova replied. She glanced at Vathek to greet him but the aide seemed to be distracted by something in the air above his head.

“I was here on an inspection of the Cyrus Shipyard facility,” Feldon explained after he had introduced himself to Lefcourt and Mitchell. “When they informed me that this ship of yours, the Titans, was about to be launched I just had to be here to see you off.”

“Thank you sir,” Ivanova said. “Have you been shown around the ship yet?”

“They’ve opened one or two hatches and let me have a peek inside,” Feldon told her, as he looked around at the walls of the landing bay.

“General Lefcourt and Captain Mitchell are coming to tour the Titans with me. You and Mister Vathek are welcome to join us,” Ivanova said.

“Why I’d like that,” Feldon said with a smile that even seemed to unsettle General Lefcourt.

“Shall we?” Ivanova said as she felt a dull ache build behind her left eye.

On cue Graydon stepped back and indicated to the nearest hatch. “If you’ll follow me, this way gentlemen,” she said, standing aside once the bulkhead door had been opened. Ivanova allowed them to pass through ahead of her, almost squinting because of the throbbing inside her head that was growing in intensity. She noticed Vathek rub the side of his temple. Ivanova turned to follow after him and almost bumped into Berensen.

“Captain, I’ll see to it that your belongings are taken to your quarters, and then catch up with you,” he said.

“Very good, Mister Berensen,” Ivanova said, for the moment not really caring what he did.

“Crew dismissed,” Berensen announced once Ivanova had left the hanger. The lines broke up as the men and women relaxed, sharing their first true impressions of their new Captain.

“If they are taking the grand tour, I suggest you all return to your stations,” Berensen told them and smiled as they hustled through the open bulkheads on the other side of the landing bay.

“The Titans has seven flight bays,” Berensen heard Graydon tell the Senator as he stuck his head out into the corridor to check on their progress. Obviously Graydon would know the crew had to be back at their stations and was deliberately taking it slowly to begin with to allow them the time to get there. “Six smaller ones are used by our shuttles. The larger bay we were just in is primarily used to launch the Starfuries that you saw back there. The Titans has two squadrons that include the standard SA-23E Aurora class and the SA-32A Thunderbolt FighterBomber for atmosphere incursions. Now, just along here is the pilot’s ready room...”

Berensen ducked back into the launch bay and glanced at the Starfuries concertinaed together in their launch racks. If Graydon was not happy with EarthForce’s choice of command aboard the ship she could always resign her commission and get herself a job as a tour operator. But heaven help anyone who suggested such a career change to her.

He turned to the shuttle and saw Wynant had already opened the small cargo hold and had transferred Ivanova’s flight bag and most of her cases onto a loader.

“How are we doing there, Lieutenant?” Berensen asked.

“Almost done here, sir,” Wynant replied as he reached in and dragged the last case out.