SIXTEEN

“Well, Captain Ivanova, it was good to meet you at last. This ship is certainly one to be proud of,” Senator Feldon said as they stepped back into the central landing bay.

“Thank you sir. It was a pleasure to meet you,” Ivanova replied, shaking his hand. Feldon looked around, suddenly realising that his shuttle had already departed.

“Senator, allow us to escort you back to the facilities,”

Lefcourt said. “We should pay a visit to the Shipyard Commander now that we’re here.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” Feldon said.

“If you’d like to board the shuttle, we won’t keep you a minute,” Lefcourt told him.

Once Senator Feldon had disappeared inside the shuttle Ivanova and Mitchell let out a sigh of relief.

“It can be a trial sometimes, I know,” Lefcourt told them,

“but once you make a good impression, you’ve got an Earth Alliance Senator on your side of the table.”

“What happened with his aide?” Mitchell asked. “It looked like he was about to freak out back there.”

“He thought the ship was screaming at him. Or something like that,” Ivanova said, still unsure of what to make of Vathek’s behaviour.

Lecourt sighed.

“That’s telepaths for you,” he said and neither Ivanova nor Mitchell could think of anything to add.

“Well Captain, I’m still very envious. Good hunting,”

Mitchell said as he shook Ivanova’s hand.

“Thank you sir, and thank you for the ride,” she said.

“Keep the wind at your back and have following seas,”

Lefcourt told her as he shook hands with Ivanova.

“I’ll try sir,” she replied.

“Good luck, Susan,” Lefcourt said as he turned towards the shuttle. Ivanova waited until they had entered the shuttle and the steps retracted before leaving the landing bay. Berensen was waiting for her outside. He handed her the keycard to her private quarters.

“Captain, all your baggage has been taken to your quarters,” he said handing over the keycard that would allow her access.

“Thank you Mister Berensen,” Ivanova said. “How close are we to finishing the final preparations?”

“The Quartermaster reports that the final shipment of supplies has been unloaded and everything is accounted for,” he said.

“Remind me, Mister Berensen, when are we scheduled to ship out?” Ivanova asked.

“There is no set launch time, sir. I believe it is left to the Captain’s discretion.”

“Is there anything else you need to do here?”

“With the Captain’s permission, I think almost everyone on board has been here long enough,” Berensen explained.

“Contact Shipyard Command and inform them we’ll leave in two hours. Before you do that, make sure all the section chiefs are happy with that arrangement,” Ivanova told him. Berensen saluted and turned on his heel. Alone in the corridor, Ivanova leant against the corridor and rubbed the back of her neck. She felt weary. Maybe it was from the long journey and the unexpected pomp and ceremony, but she suspected there was more to it than that. Before the headache started, before Vathek began his one-man meltdown, there had been something else troubling her.

Ivanova looked down at the cross-hatch design of the deckplates. She felt the pit of her stomach tighten as the sense of unease washed over her. Like the armoured cladding on the exterior of the ship, it reminded her of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

She crouched down, spread her fingers out as her hand hovered over the floor. Suddenly there was a sense of prickling cold creeping into her fingertips. A slight pressure tickled the back of her eyeball. Feeling almost light-headed when she stood up, Ivanova headed for the elevator, wanting to get to her quarters as quickly as possible.

“Captain on deck!” Berensen called out as Ivanova stepped onto the bridge.

“As you were,” she quickly replied before they could break off from their work.

Ivanova stepped on to the central dais. She ran her hand across the back of the Captain’s chair as she looked around at the bridge crew. She had played her ace by coming onboard with General Lefcourt but now it was just her and the crew. Whatever they thought about her, Ivanova knew she had to allay any doubts or fears as quickly as possible.

“Mister Breck, ready when you are,” she said turning to the Communications Officer. He pressed a sequence of buttons on his console and nodded back to her.

“This is the Captain,” Ivanova announced. “When a new ship is ready to head out on its first mission, its traditional for the Captain to give a speech.”

As her voice echoed throughout the ship, Ivanova paused for a moment and looked around the bridge. After what she had inferred from Wynant on the journey to the Apollo, she wondered how the ship’s crew would react to her speech. Would the section chiefs she had met during the tour watch the men and women under their command and pay attention to their reactions? Following behind Senator Feldon and General Lefcourt, Ivanova had seen a few glances pass between crewmembers and the odd raised eyebrow. But none of them had angrily shaken their heads or spat on the deck.

“Some new Captains look to the past and recite old poetry to find meaning in what lies ahead for us, Ivanova continued. “I prefer to look to the future and see this as a new beginning. This is a new warship, the first of its kind, but I pray that we have put behind us all the wars that we will see in our lifetimes.”

Ivanova saw some of officers nodding to themselves.

“We’re about to embark on a journey together to see what the Titans can do and what we, as her crew can do. We have to trust in this ship and we have to trust in each other. It takes time to earn trust, but I hope, with us all working together, it will not take long. Thank you.”

As Breck broke the link, Ivanova took a breath and stepped forward to examine the graphic of the Cyrus system.

“Mister Maddison,” she said to the Titans navigator as she walked over to his station, “is our course plotted?”

“Course plotted and confirmed, Captain,” Maddison assured her.

Ivanova leant in close to confer with Maddison who nodded excitedly as he listened intently. Ivanova beckoned Berensen over and informed him of the alteration to their planned route.

“That’s a nice gesture,” Berensen said.

“Then let’s show them what all their hard work has produced,” Ivanova said as she walked back to her chair. She looked over to Berensen before she sat down and nodded to him.

“Let’s get going, Mister Berensen.”

“This is the Titans to Cyrus Shipyard Control,” Berensen announced once Lieutenant Breck opened a channel, “requesting permission to launch on a heading of two-seven-six.”

“Cyrus Shipyard Control to Titans,” a voice said over the intercom, ”heading two-seven-six confirmed. You are clear for launch.”

“Godspeed, Titans,” a different voice, which Berensen recognised as Debra Strickson, said.

“Thank you Cyrus Control,” Berensen said, “Titans, out.”

“Helm ahead full,” Ivanova said as she returned to her seat.

“Aye, Captain,” he said. “Helm, forward full.”

Ivanova settled back in the chair as the star system graphic before her was replaced by a live feed that showed the Titans effortlessly sweep around the Apollo and head toward the Shipyard Control facility. The curve of the Gas Giant the shipyard orbited on the outer fringe of the system came into view and with it the orbital stations that provided the living quarters for the men and women who toiled away on the ships constructed here.

On the screens she watched the flanking Starfury escort break away as the Titans cleared the defence grid surrounding the shipyard’s perimeter. Ahead of them lay the blackness of space. Ivanova had read her orders back on Earth. Twenty-four hours after departing the shipyard, the new Warlock-class Destroyer would begin its shake-down program in earnest, testing the Titans and its crew to the very limits.

“Activate Jump Engines,” Ivanova ordered.

“Jump Engines on line, Captain,” Berensen informed her.

“Proceed,” Ivanova said.

As the small-scale Vortex Generators onboard the Titans reached full power, the energy waves produced focused on a point far ahead of the ship. A burst of light pulsed in the darkness as the fabric of space was rent open to form a passage into the altered dimension of hyperspace. The energy blossomed yellow and white as it radiated outwards creating a cone of rippled light that rapidly drew the Titans in. The monitor was suddenly filled with a boiling redness that ranged bright scarlet to deep crimson as darkened veils of cloud raged around them, backlit by the infrequent pulses of energy discharges.

“Beacon confirmed and locked-on,” Maddison said. Ivanova nodded.

“Very well, Mister Berensen, you have the bridge. Mister Breck,” she said turning to her Communications Officer, “notify your Simulations team that we will convene in the briefing room at oh-eight-hundred hours.”

“Aye, Captain,” Breck said.

“I’ll see you in the mess after your shift and we can start to put together a schedule.”

“Yes sir,” he replied.

Space was the most unforgiving of environments. To ensure the survival of any ship in an emergency, whether in space or the even harsher environs of hyperspace, it was vital for its crew’s reactions to be as fast and practised as possible. Working in concert with Lieutenant Breck, who also doubled as the Titan’s designated Simulations Supervisor, and his team of Simulations Assistants, drawn up from a cross-section of officers and enlisted ranks from throughout the ship, Ivanova would decide the best way to put the crew through a repeated number of drills and tasks. Before the Titans reached its designated testing grounds on the outer fringe of the Sinzar System, Ivanova and the Simulations team would block out a schedule designed to test everyone’s determination and mettle.

Ivanova knew that something as straightforward as abandoning ship was not a simple case of getting all the crews to the life pods. The shuttles and Starfuries had to be launched with whatever supplies were available. In some instances, to stop the ship from falling into the hands of an enemy who could potentially use it to their advantage, auto-destruct sequences would be programmed by the senior officers prior to their departure. Although, given the cost of something like the Titans, such a scenario would only be used under the most extreme circumstances. A more likely turn of events would see a series of lockdowns initiated, with the restart sequences requiring EarthForce security passwords.

In total the drills would continue for the next three to four months at the very least. Some of the common drills and emergencies outlined would require only a portion of the ship’s complement to go into action, while others would include the full crew. There were also specific Combat Drills for the EA Marines and the Starfury pilots, although to make them appear as real as possible, the participation of crewmembers would be eventually required. Quite possibly the first couple of drills would be scheduled as trial runs but after that Ivanova expected them to be sprung at any time during the ship’s four-watch rotation. Heading to her quarters to review the twenty-two standard drills the crew were set to perform, Ivanova felt the sense of unease return. She stopped in her tracks and looked back down the corridor to see if there was anyone else experiencing the same sensation. Instead she found herself alone. Ivanova fought off the impulse to race back and seek solace in the company of the bridge crew, instead searching for a rationale to the phenomenon. She stood under a ventilation grille, she reached up to investigate whether the sudden chill was simply the result of incorrectly programmed climate control. As she reached up to the ceiling her fingertips felt like they had at once been scored by a metal edge. In her quarters, Ivanova sat down on the bed and, without thinking, pulled the blanket around her. Less than a day in command and she was wondering whether she had made the right decision. What was worse was the fact that she was actually having such doubts. In her past life Ivanova would have considered such thoughts as nonsense and brushed them aside. Now they seemed to be taking root inside her head, leaving her unable to deal with them.

“Am I making the right decision?” she had asked Stephen Franklin in her quarters back on Babylon 5. He had been sitting at the table, reviewing her charts while she was curled up on the bed, much the same way she was now.

“Babylon 5 does have a lot of negative associations right now,” he had said considering his answer, “so a change would be good for you.”

“But captaining an Earth Alliance warship? It’s going to seem antiquated after commanding a White Star.”

Even though the Warlock-class was state of the art, even during the tour of the Titans, Ivanova could not help feeling that there was no comparison beside the combined Minbari and Vorlon technology of the White Stars.

“Well, you get a chair to sit in,” Franklin had replied, fumbling for an answer.

“A chair?” Ivanova had been amazed by his reasoning.

“Here at Command and Control, you have to stand at the console throughout your shift. On the ship you’d get a sit down.”

“If I stayed here and took over from Sheridan, I’d have a chair and a desk.”

Now, as then, she burst into a sudden fit of laughter as a result of Franklin’s ludicrous line of reasoning. Except this time, as her laughter abated, Ivanova was surprised to find tears welling up in her eyes. Her shoulders heaved and as Ivanova wiped her cheeks she felt a chill spike the air around her. How long would it be, Ivanova wondered, until she too started to hear the screaming?