TWENTY

All the years Ivanova had served on Babylon 5, Docking Bay 13 had been assigned the designated berth for the Vorlon Ambassador Kosh and off limits.

“Why are we here?” Ivanova asked. The meeting had broken up. Sheridan had outlined the basis of his plan once Lyta had arrived. It appeared to be a long shot to everyone but she was prepared to give it a go. As everyone left Sheridan’s office he called Lyta back to speak to her alone and asked Ivanova to wait outside for him.

Ivanova wondered what else Sheridan had up his sleeve. He wasn’t prepared to tell her immediately. Lyta was smiling when she passed her in the corridor. Whether that could be interpreted as a good sign was still debatable. As Sheridan eventually escorted her to the docking bays without explanation, it felt like their earlier roles were suddenly reversed. With a sense of foreboding prickling her skin, Ivanova wondered if this was payback for calling him onboard the Titans.

“This used to be—“ Ivanova said, interrupted by Sheridan holding up a finger to stop her right there. He punched a code into the access panel and watched Ivanova’s reaction as the door slid open.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she exclaimed, astonished by what she saw.

As the Shadow War reached a critical juncture the crew came to the realisation that contrary to what they had been led to believe, the Vorlons had in fact no interest in humanity. By then a vast armada that included a Vorlon Planet Killer was sweeping through the system, destroying any world that had been touched by the Shadows. Deciding that he could no longer be trusted, Sheridan had announced that the new Ambassador had to go. It was easier said that done. Ulkesh had been successfully led into an ambush, but even after a heated battle Babylon 5’s tactical squad had only succeeded in splitting open the Vorlon’s encounter suit and forcing the enraged creature out into the open. The odds were only eventually tilted in their favour when a

splinter of Kosh, who had secretly resided in Sheridan after the original Vorlon Ambassador had been killed by Shadow agents, emerged and forced his replacement, Ulkesh, out of the station. Ivanova had been in Command and Control when they engaged the Vorlon. As the fight raged on, the Ambassador’s ship had suddenly come alive and torn itself loose from the magnetic moorings. She had ordered the space-locks opened before it caused any more damage to the station. The Vorlon ship had burst free from Babylon 5 as the glowing embodiment of Kosh forced Ulkesh out of the station.

She remembered watching as their essence rippled across the surface of Babylon 5 and, still intertwined, they coalesced into the departing Vorlon vessel. The resulting explosion lit up the darkness of space with such ferocity that she was not surprised the image was not burned into her retinas. Both Vorlons and the ship had been destroyed. Which didn’t explain the presence of the Vorlon ship sitting comfortably on the rail locks infront of her.

The first ship, cast in yellow and green hues, had gracefully followed its master to its death. The deep red colouration told her this was definitely the ship of Ulkesh.

“Didn’t this go boom?” she asked. “I think I remember that.”

“After the ship blew up I had salvage go and pick up the pieces to bring back here.”

“And this seemed like a good idea to you?” she said quietly.

“I thought we could get a chance to discover something about the Vorlons,” Sheridan said. “And why are you whispering?”

Ivanova jabbed her finger toward the Vorlon ship.

“Because...,” she said.

“After the Vorlons went beyond the Rim, all sensors indicated that the ship had simply stopped.”

“So how did it get from being in lots of tiny pieces to this?”

“All told, there were about half a dozen large chunks recovered. Except the next time I got a chance to check in down here there were five bigger pieces, then even bigger four, then three,” Sheridan explained.

“It was rebuilding itself?”

“And regenerating all the parts that had been destroyed.”

Ivanova could not help but notice the admiration in his voice.

“And you didn’t find that unusual?”

“Well, yes. But it is Vorlon after all. Do you want to come in?” Sheridan asked as he stepped onto the ramp that led down to the ship.

Ivanova shook her head.

“I’ve got to get back to the Titans,” she replied. “I won’t wait up.”

In C&C, Lochley stared through the observation dome at the Titans floating silently in space. Her hands balled into tight

fists, she folded her arms against her chest, to stop herself chewing at a nail in frustration.

Whether the plan Sheridan had mapped out would work was anyone’s guess. A few elements were clarified for her when she asked what the risks would be to the station is things did not go according to plan. Otherwise, feeling unqualified to add any constructive suggestions, Lochley had simply watched and listened.

Still trying to digest the sudden rush of information about the Shadows and the Vorlons, Lochley had returned to the command deck just in time for Sheridan to contact her with an addendum to the plan. She was less than happy to discover what had been in one of the docking bays all this time. Now almost an hour had passed since she watched Ivanova’s shuttle head back toward her ship and still there was no word from Sheridan. As she waited for his call, Lochley found herself feeling increasingly angry. Not because Sheridan had trooped off down to Docking Bay 13 without an armed escort, but because during the Civil War, when Sheridan and everyone here on the station had been branded as renegades and traitors, she had fought on the side she believed was right. Now she had discovered that side had been infected by an alien sickness that had tainted everything EarthForce had stood for. Standing, restless in the command centre, there was no one for her to take her anger out on. Lochley saw the light blink on Corwin’s console, saw his hand go up to his earpiece. This better be it, she thought.

“President Sheridan for you on Channel 4,” Corwin announced.

She turned to the Bab-Com screen, ready to receive his transmission when Corwin informed her it was audio only.

“Mister President, are you all right?” Lochley asked. To begin with all she could hear was an unusual hiss of static that rose and fell as it moved back and forth across the acoustical range with a strangely melodious effect.

“Everything’s fine here,” Sheridan replied, sounding like he was talking to her from far away, across the distant reaches of the galaxy. “I’m inside the ship.”

“What’s it like?” Lochley asked. Even the command staff looked up from their consoles, eager to hear his answer. It took a long time coming before Sheridan disappointed them all by announcing there were no words to describe the interior of the Vorlon vessel. There was a sense of wonder and awe in his voice that made her feel more than a little envious.

“So, is the ship going to play ball?” Lochley enquired. Sheridan still wasn’t sure. While Lochley waited for a definite reply she listened as the static became more like a whisper, rising and falling across the harmonic scale. It was a crazy thing to think but as she waited for Sheridan to get back to her, Lochley would swear the ship was singing. Whether it was to him or to her she could not be sure, but it definitely sounded like soft, gentle singing. Crazier still, it sounded very much like it was singing one of her

grandmother’s favourite tunes. Lochley knew the song. It was Pennies from Heaven.

“I think it’s going to do it,” Sheridan eventually answered. “I think it would like something interesting to do.”

“He’s talking about the ship, right?” Lochley asked Corwin who looked as perplexed as she obviously did. Her first day on Babylon 5 had confirmed that the place was a madhouse and nothing so far had refuted that claim. In fact each new day seemed to provide more evidence to the fact.

“Did you say the ship would like something interesting to do?” she asked. It did not surprise her at all that Sheridan told her not to ask.

“Is everything ready to go?” Sheridan asked.

“Is Lyta Alexander aboard the Titans?” she asked Corwin.

“Her shuttle is already en route,” he informed her.

“Ready when you are, Mister President,” Lochley said.

“Open Bay 13, and let’s get this thing up and running,”

Sheridan said, his voice sounding even more distant that before.

“Bay 13 open. All other traffic is clear,” Corwin confirmed.

As the Vorlon ship passed through the docking portal, Lochley leaned across the console, almost pressing her face against the glass to get a good look. This she had to see.

Ivanova’s latent telepathic ability had made her perceptive to Shadow technology, while Sheridan was sensitive to the Shadowtech from unknowingly carrying part of Kosh’s essence inside him. If Ivanova and Sheridan had felt a sense of dread stepping aboard the Titans, Lyta Alexander was almost overcome with blind panic even before the shuttle transferring her to the ship touched down.

After her transfer to Babylon 5 as the station’s first resident commercial telepath, Lyta had scanned the Vorlon following an attempt on his life. Almost immediately she had been recalled to Earth by the Psi Corp who want interested in what she had learnt from the encounter. Guessing that the experiments she was forced to endure would culminate in her ending up in a row of glass jars, she escaped and went underground. Drawn to the mysterious Vorlons, she had eventually been granted the privilege of visiting their homeworld. There her telepathic abilities had been increased beyond measure. Returning to Babylon 5 to take on the role of Kosh’s diplomatic aide, she had even carried its consciousness in her mind on the occasions the ambassador wished to travel incognito. She was almost the closest thing to a Vorlon left in the galaxy now. Even before her shuttle had cleared Babylon 5 and was on its approach to the Titans she could sense a dark, ugly presence waiting for her. As the tiny shuttle entered the ship and made its way through the space-locks, Lyta felt ready to claw her way out of the ship. Once the shuttle had settled onto the landing bay her panic abated. Instead she felt something else. It was like the tide had turned and it was the ship that was fearful.

Ivanova waited for Lyta to exit the shuttle.

“We haven’t got much time,” Ivanova told her as they hurried down the corridor toward the smaller Flight Bay 7.

“Are you okay with this?” Ivanova asked as she helped Lyta into the pressure suit that was waiting there for her.

“If I say no, do we have time to think of something different?” she asked.

“Not really,” Ivanova said, hurriedly checking the pressure seals.

“Then let’s get it done,” Lyta sighed. “I hate wearing these things,” she added as the drab grey space suit was tightened around her. “Couldn’t you have picked me out a better colour?”

As the seals were tightened on the helmet, Lyta noticed that the deckplates running down the middle of the bay had been pulled up and removed. A heavy insulated frame supported a line of computer relays that had been spliced into the exposed tangle of thick, coloured cables. They rose up from the floor, undulating like a glowing metal spine.

“I bet that took some explaining?” she said.

“Not as much as you would think,” Ivanova shouted through the faceplate. She jerked her thumb in the air. “I’ll be up on the bridge, Good luck.”

Lyta weakly gave her the thumbs up back. As the door locked shut behind Ivanova, Lyta hurriedly attached the safety cables to her belt and stepped back against the wall, wondering how long she would have to wait.

Ivanova reached the bridge just in time to see the Vorlon ship approaching the Titans.

“Initiate lockdown throughout the ship,” Ivanova said. She turned and saw that all the bridge crew were staring at the screen in awe. It reminded her of the first time she saw the Vorlon ship comes through the Jump Gate. She had considered turning off the viewscreens on the bridge but decided that if they were to understand what would soon happen, this was something they needed to see. Since the Vorlons had left the galaxy and headed beyond the rim, they would never get another opportunity to see this in their lifetimes.

“Mister Berensen,” Ivanova said firmly. “Initiate the shipwide lockdown.”

Berensen’s head snapped around to face her. His fingers danced across the console.

“Lockdown confirmed,” he said, turning his attention back to the screen.

“Hanger doors open.”

“Aye Captain.”

It was a sentient ship, created using advanced biotechnology. More than just a vessel for the Vorlon pilot, it was designed to be a companion, existing in a symbiotic relationship. With its long sculpted tendrils protruding from the front of the ship, from some angles it looked like an elegant cephalopod. From others angles, the bulbous organic look reminded Ivanova that

once she had wondered what would grow if the ship was planted in deep, rich soil. The shifting red hues and warm rust-coloured blotches that shifted across its surface made her wonder whether it had a hull or a skin. The ship’s wings, extended from the back of the vessel, folded down like closing petals as it headed into the forward section of the Titans.

“It’s beautiful,” Graydon said.

And deadly, Ivanova thought. No one should be seduced by the look of the craft. The power of the Vorlon Death-Ray was formidable. The fury unleashed by the larger Vorlon dreadnaughts was as terrifying as anything the Shadows could produce.

“This could get rough,” Ivanova warned her officers.

TWENTY-ONE

Lyta took long measured breathes to keep herself calm and focused. She kept her eyes fixed on the warning lights. Once they flashed red she looked across the hanger as the large doors slid apart and the Vorlon ship appeared. Lyta thought she had put this episode of her life behind her but obviously it wasn’t going to go away.

She had been more than a little surprised to discover that the Vorlon ship was still in Babylon 5’s docking bays. When the first Kosh had been murdered by the Shadows, through channels the Vorlon government had requested that his personal effects be placed inside the vessel. Once that was done, the ship, a living extension of Kosh, left the station on its last journey, unfoldings its wings at it flew into the heart of the sun to rejoin its master.

Lyta had assumed that the ship’s could not survive without its master, but here it was, sliding gently into the bay. The ship hovered over the metal frame before delicately lowering itself down onto the computer relays. Once it was properly attached, absorbing itself tightly into the deck, it would create its own interface and the battle would begin in earnest. Personally Lyta felt glad to have it there with her. She had seen the Titans on the monitor in Sheridan’s office and marvelled at the size of the ship. When Sheridan began the briefing her first thought was that she was expected to go onboard alone to combat the foe that lurked within the massive superstructure. Ultimately the Vorlons may not have had the best interests of the younger races at heart, but it was reassuring to have the ship there with her.

The hanger lights, which had been glistening on the curved surface of the Vorlon ship flickered briefly and went dead plunging the hanger into darkness. Out of the blackness a faint glow pulsed from within the Vorlon ship. It fluctuated as she felt a roaring wind blast through her, snapping at the safety harness.

The plan was to guide the Vorlon ship’s consciousness deep into the ship to seek out the black heart of the Shadow technology but Lyta found that she had to concentrate as hard as

she could just to keep up with the Vorlon. Its tendrils slithered around the weaving maze of conduits. Energy crackled around it and through it as the Vorlon surged on, deep into the computer systems where the evil had taken root.

On the Titans’ bridge Ivanova felt the vibrations first. The information scrolling up the screens suddenly dissolved into swirls of gibberish. The ceiling lights glowed intensely then burnt out. She knew the Shadowtech would not go down without a fight. There was the distinct danger that it would overload the fusion reactors, which was why they had moved the Titans away from Babylon 5 to what was hopefully the minimum safe distance. As the metal groaned around her, barely standing up to the stresses inflicted upon it, Ivanova wondered if the ship wouldn’t simply be torn apart. If this did not work there will be a lot of explaining to do, Ivanova thought. At least she would not be the one to have to do it.

The ship rocked violently. Ivanova gripped the armrests of her chair, trying desperately to hold on. The rush of G-forces came out of nowhere and it felt like the Titans was being spun around in a whirlpool. She heard Graydon scream, Berensen shouting for everyone to hold on. Pushed against his console, Maddison lost his grip and was flung over the railing. He skittered across the floor of the bridge, his arms flailing, and crashed into the wall.

In the launch bay Lyta sensed they were close to the essence of the alien consciousness. She could feel it now, a dark, hateful rage building up in the very heart of the machine. The Vorlon could sense it too. Their quarry was near and it surged ahead through the twists and turns, eager to find it. Lyta had doubted that they would get the Vorlon ship onboard in the first instance but Ivanova had assured her the space-locks could be overridden and had remained true to her word. She felt a sudden tug on the harness as the series of space-lock doors opened again, all at once this time, bypassing the safety protocols. The air in the hanger bay roared out into space as the Shadowtech tried to rid itself of the enemy presence that had dared to come aboard.

Although distracted for a moment, Lyta knew that both she and the Vorlon ship were not leaving until their job was done. She could feel the Shadowtech screaming in her mind as she sensed its rage.

Scream all you want, she thought. I want to hear you scream louder. I want to hear you scream in pain.

The Vorlon stabbed deep into the core of the Shadowtech. The two mortal enemies were locked in combat for one last time. The light and dark entwined, lunging and slashing at each other. Lyta paried with her own strokes, stopping the Shadowtech conscience’s from accessing the ship’s systems to gain an advantage or set off a chain reaction that would destroy the Titans rather than let the Vorlon take over. You don’t frighten me any more, she spat as the Shadowtech thrashed and struggled against her.

In that instant she could sense its wavering fear which was all she needed to press on with her attack. This one is for Kosh, Lyta thought as she felt the Vorlon connect with her as it suddenly reared back and with one final, deadly determined lunge tore right through the heart of the Shadow with a fiery vengeance.

The raging maelstrom died down as deep howl roared through the Titans one last time. The echoing vibrations of its death rattle gradually faded and finally it was over. In the darkened hanger bay Lyta took a deep breath. With the power out, she could just make out the faintest of glows in front of her as the consciousness withdrew into the Vorlon ship. Although she could not see it, she felt its rhythmic pulses inside her head, singing to her in a harmonious language she had almost forgotten.

“I miss him too,” Lyta replied, choking back a tear. The underside of the Vorlon ship burnt brightly as, through the interface, it restored power to the Titans. As the space-lock doors rumbled shut and she heard the whisper of air being pumped back into the hanger bay, Lyta collapsed back against the wall, hanging limp from the safety lines like a discarded marionette. As the lights came back on she unhooked the safety cables and started to break the seals on the pressure suit. Pulling the helmet off over her head, Lyta was astonished to see the side of the Vorlon ship iris open. Just for a moment she expected to her her Kosh making a miraculous reappearance. Instead Sheridan stood in the opening. When he saw Lyta, Sheridan smiled triumphantly and waved to her. She raised her hand to wave back but instead pitched forward and passed out on the hanger bay floor.

On the Titans bridge Ivanova breathed a sigh of relief. The acrid smell of burnt metal hung in the air but she was pleased to see the lights flicker hesitantly and back on. Most of the screens returned to normal and the com channels burst to life relaying a babble of overlapping status reports coming in from across the ship.

“Damage report,” Ivanova ordered.

“Fires from systems shorting out on D and E decks but they’ve been contained,” Graydon announced. “The Chief reports that for a moment back there it looked like the reactors were going to go critical.”

Ivanova turned and looked at her, concerned.

“But everything is back well below the red line,” Graydon continued reading from the console screen.

“That’s always good to hear.”

“Some obvious disruption to various systems but they appear minor. The maintenance crews are already on it and starting to run full diagnostics.”

“There was an atmosphere loss in the hanger bays,” Berensen added.

“Which ones?” Ivanova asked, concerned for Lyta.

“Bay seven, but its been compensated for.”

Ivanova nodded. As they suspected, the Shadow technology had tried to get rid of the alien intruders. The Vorlon ship had obviously managed to stay put and, she assumed, Lyta. She wanted to get down there and check for herself.

“I’d say that worked,” Ivanova said to Berensen as she got up out her chair.

“The ship appears to be in one piece,” he said.

“What about the crew?”

“Cuts and bruises and a few fractured bones reported so far, but nothing serious.”

“That’s good,” Ivanova nodded.

Across the bridge Lieutenant Maddison rolled over, holding his ribs as he coughed. Ivanova knelt by his side and helped him sit up with his back to the wall.

“Stay where you are,” she instructed as he tried to stand up.

“Medical help is already on the way,” Graydon announced. Doctor Benton had co-opted Captain Dorland’s marine detachment and before long two well-armed marines in full body armour arrived.

“So, was this kind of thing typical when you served on Babylon 5?” Berensen asked as he watched the marines lift Maddison onto the stretcher.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Ivanova smiled.

“So what do we do now?” Graydon asked, dabbing at the smudge of blood on the side of her temple.

“You’re going to report to MedLab with Lieutenant Maddison,” Ivanova told her. She looked over to Breck who was pressing his hand to the sides of his jaw and running a finger inside his mouth to check whether any of his teeth had come loose.

“Mister Breck, what do you say to that Jump Failure Drill now?”

“Piece of cake,” he replied.

“I don’t appear to have broken my shiny new ship,” Ivanova said as she escorted Sheridan back to his shuttle.

“That’s always a good thing,” he told her. “It seems more warmer and inviting, I have to say.”

“The interior temperatures running hot,” Ivanova laughed. She knew what he meant. The chill had gone. Even after what they had been through to purge the system, she felt more relaxed than she had been. “And some of the communication channels have got themselves in a scramble. But no, there’s nothing that we can’t not fix. I guess we were lucky this time.”

“That’s good. And its good to see you again, Susan. You know you’re always welcome back here.”

“If I find I’m lacking any fun and excitement, I’m sure I’ll stop by,” Ivanova told him as they reached the central landing bay. “Next time I’m in the area, I’ll take you for a spin in it once we find out what it really can do.”

“It’s a fine ship you’ve got,” Sheridan said.

“I’ve got a good crew. And they’re gradually coming around to my way of thinking,” Ivanova said with a grin. “How is the presidency?”

“It’s quite a learning curve. But with Londo and G’Kar no longer at each others throats, it means I’ve got the time to concentrate on the more important matters,” Sheridan replied.

“Although Captain Lochley thinks it’s a bad call, I’ve just given sanctuary...”

He stopped and shook his head.

“I don’t want to bore you with the details. What can I say, it’s Babylon 5,” he explained. “I hope it all works out for you, Captain.”

“And for you, Mister President,” she replied, amused by his formality. “And thanks again for your help.”

Unexpectedly for Ivanova, Sheridan hugged her as they stood beside the shuttle.

“You take good care,” he whispered in her ear.

As the hatch closed behind him, Ivanova wished she had had the chance to properly thank Lyta for all her help. When Ivanova got down to Hanger 7 Sheridan was already carrying the unconscious telepath out into the corridor and gently laying her down on the floor.

A nurse soon arrived with a pair of stretcherbearers in tow. A cursory check revealed that Lyta was suffering from a combination of stress and exhaustion. She was given a shot to help her sleep. As the nurse returned to assist the minor casualties coming in to MedLab, Ivanova instructed to take Lyta on ahead to the shuttle.

Although Sheridan had instructed her to seal off Hanger 7

she opened the hatch and leaned against the bulkhead watching the ship. Maybe it was down to the acoustics of the hanger but Ivanova would swear she could hear an almost musical hum keeping time with the gentle throb of the exposed systems. She was about to turn away when the mottled pattern swam across the surface of the Vorlon ship, breaking into pieces to form a line of symbols.

“I’m sorry, I can’t read Vorlon,” Ivanova said. “But thank you for what you did.”

The symbols rearranged themselves into a different pattern that floated gently upon the surface of the ship.

“I’m going to go now,” Ivanova explained, knowing that if the ship was anything like Kosh the message was probably be something impenetrably obtuse. “I’ll close the door and lock it behind me. Nobody will disturb you down here. If you need something, just whistle.” She pointed to her head, hoping the ship would understand.

Standing in the corridor Ivanova locked the entrance to the Flight Bay with a command string code that even the most dedicated hacker would have trouble opening. Now all she had to do was to see that the repairs were finished so that the Titans could get back to the Sinzar System before anyone noticed their absence.

“Dear diary, today I had a conversation with a Vorlon ship. Tomorrow I hope to feel better,” she muttered to herself as she headed for the bridge, wondering whether the nurse could give her a jab of something particularly potent as well.

TITANS

TWENTY-TWO

The incessant bleeping reached into Ivanova’s dreams and dragged her from her sleep. The numbers on the clock came into focus, shining through the darkness: 04:47. It was just over two months since the Titans had been purged of the Shadow influence. The ship had returned to the Sinzar System for a final week of drills before jumping to the Orion System, on the other side of Proxima, to continue with a further round of simulations.

With the alien intelligence gone, Ivanova had found herself sleeping soundly during the nights. Her dreams were peaceful and untroubled. The only blip had been a couple of surprise drills organised from Breck. He soon decided to alter his existing schedule after Crawley took over and purposefully set off the alarms hours after he had retired to his bunk.

“Ivanova,” she snapped sharply into her link, hoping Breck had not changed his mind.

“Sorry to wake you, Captain,” the watch communications officer apologised. “You have an incoming priority call from EarthForce.”

Ivanova reached for the lights. Blinking in the sudden brightness, she pulled on her uniform jacket and tried to look alert.

The EarthForce logo on the com-station changed to a Gold Channel graphic. Ivanova quickly ran her hands through her hair to chase out any tangles before activating the screen. General Bowden appeared, sitting behind his desk. His face looked flushed, as if he had just retired, the sore loser, from a heated argument.

“Captain Ivanova, I hope I haven’t woken you,” Bowden said. A barely contained smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, accentuating the deep creases etched into the sides of his face. She had seen him briefly at EarthDome before her meeting with General Smits and Luchenko. Typically, he had been barking orders to an aide who had looked relieved for the brief respite when Bowden caught sight of her crossing the main atrium. She was reminded that Garibaldi once described Bowden as looking like a bulldog that was chewing on a wasp. When Ivanova had seen him glaring at her, she had saluted and kept walking. Ivanova knew full well that he had timed the call perfectly to interrupt her sleep. She could only hope that he was being inconvenienced considerably as well.

“Not at all, General,” Ivanova replied straight-faced. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest and wondered if Bowden had somehow gotten word of their little diversion and what they had done to the ship.

“Good,” he said, frowning momentarily. “Well, I have an assignment for you, as long as you think you and your crew are up to it.”

“We’re ready,” Ivanova replied. “The crew are well trained and well prepared.”

Bowden stared at her for a moment then sat forward and rested his forearms on the desk, bringing his face closer to the screen. It may have been a trick of the light but Ivanova thought she could see the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching.

“The new President of the Interstellar Alliance has requested EarthForce’s assistance,” Bowden explained with an air of distaste.

“At Babylon 5?” Ivanova asked. Bowden shook his head.

“You’re not going back there just yet,” he told her.

“Sheridan will contact you and update you on the situation. EarthDome has assured him that the Titans is at his disposal until the situation is resolved.”

“Situation?” Ivanova asked, knowing Bowden wasn’t going to bother explaining it to her.

“Just remember whom you’re working for now,” Bowden reminded her as he terminated the link.

Ivanova showered quickly. She was getting dressed when the communications officer routed through the second call.

“Mr President,” Ivanova said as Sheridan appeared on the com-screen.

“Captain,” Sheridan nodded back. “Now that we’ve got the formalities are over and done with, how is the ship?”

“Much better, thank you. And we got back to the testing ground without anyway noticing we were missing.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said.

“How are things with you?”

“It’s a steep learning curve, but I think we’re getting there. Captain Lochley thinks I’ve made a few wrong calls that will come back to bite me, but so far so good.”

“General Bowden said there was something we could help you out with.”

“Bowden called you? I bet he was pleased to reveal I had come cap-in-hand to EarthForce,” Sheridan said. “We had new alien race come through the Jump Gate a couple days ago.”

“Hostiles?” Ivanova asked. Sheridan nodded.

“Very. Delenn surmised they were the advance wing scouting for likely independent worlds to invade.”

“For likely you mean soft and vulnerable,” Ivanova observed. “They must have come in for a surprise.”

“It wasn’t so one-sided. They bloodied our nose a little,”

Sheridan explained, “but we’re still on our feet. The Gaim had a tussle with them and at least warned us of their possible arrival. We’ve had a few reports come in of overdue convoys since, but no confirmed sightings.”

“And you need us to track them down?”

“You don’t have to get right in their faces, just find out which corner of the playground they’re from.”

“I understand,” she said.

“I would have sent the Rangers out to track them down, but the White Stars have already engaged them in battle.”

“Which would make it difficult to extend any kind of olive branch,” replied Ivanova, understanding the situation.

“Exactly. A taskforce will immediately send the wrong message, but one ship that can stand up for itself might be able to make the difference. I’ll transmit all of the information we currently have. There’s footage from Starfury gun-cameras and Babylon 5’s drone bots, along with Steven’s autopsies of their boarding party. Patrols from the Alliance worlds are on alert and hopefully you’ll get their latest updates, so you won’t be blindly searching the whole galaxy.”

“We’ll get the job done,” Ivanova assured him.

“I knew I could count on you, Susan” Sheridan said. “I lobbied the Joint Chiefs for the best ship they had at hand. They obviously decided that was the Titans.”

“It would have been different if you had asked them for their best Captain,” Ivanova countered.

“When they get over their prejudices, the Chiefs will find out that the two go hand-in-hand,” Sheridan assured her. “I’m sorry if it seems like I’m putting you in harm’s way again.”

“We can handle it. And we’ll certainly observe First Contact Protocol if the opportunity arises.”

“Help will be at hand if you need it,” Sheridan said. “Good luck to you.”

The Jump Gate blazed to life. The alien fleet emerged, a swarm of fighters buzzing around the larger warships. They broke off, engaging the squadrons of Starfuries that were moving to intercept. The fighters twisted and turned, evading the streaking arcs of fire from the plasma cannons. Bright clouds of gas blossomed against the blackness of space as ships taking a direct hit disintegrated and the atmosphere inside briefly ignited.

As one of the alien ships came into view the image froze. Seated around the table in the Briefing Room, the officers of the Titans got their first clear view of the alien craft.

It was small and sharp. There was something insect-like about it, as if a beetle had been forced to squeeze out of its shell and this was the split remains. The front of the ship was concave with a large plasma cannon that resembled a sharp stinger fixed in front of what they assumed was the cockpit. Behind the cockpit the hull narrowed in the middle before sweeping out as it split in two so that the tail of the ship reminded Ivanova of a pair of antelope horns. Before they tapered away to a point, wings curved out from either side of the tail section with what looked like further plasma weapons attached to each end.

“This is who we are looking for,” Ivanova announced. “A so far unidentified alien race. Obviously hostile. A scouting party and subsequent larger fleet attacked Babylon 5, mistakingly

assuming it was a soft target. The Interstellar Alliance has asked for help in finding this species’ planet of origin and EarthForce has assigned the task to us.”

“How old is this footage?” Berensen asked.

“Two days,” Ivanova informed him.

She looked over at Lieutenant’s Michael Oliver and Andrew Rowland, the Titan’s Starfury squadron leaders as the footage continued. Sitting side-by-side, both men studied the battle played out on the monitors intently. Ivanova glanced back at the screen, interested to see them paying close attention to the alien fighters’ manoeuvring capabilities.

“Lieutenant Rowland, any thoughts?” Ivanova asked.

Rowland took his eyes off the screen. He swivelled his chair around to face Ivanova. His brow was knitted into a frown. Ivanova could just make out a pale scar that ran up the side of his forehead and disappeared into his close-cropped hair.

“I’d be interested in learning the kill ratio,” he said. She had asked his opinion first because she had gathered that he was the more talkative of the pair. Apparently she had been misinformed.

“Of Babylon 5’s Starfury squadrons?”

Rowland’s eyes disappeared into dark slits as he shook his head.

“Of the alien fighters they engaged,” he said.

“Are your pilots up to the task if we encounter these ships?” she enquired provocatively.

“They’ll stand and fight their ground,” Rowland replied, accepting her challenge. “And win.”

Ivanova gave him a thin smile.

“We’ll stay at combat readiness,” Oliver interrupted, trying to make up for his colleague. “And increase the drills. We can also incorporate the footage into the flight simulator AI to get a jump on any tricks they may have up their sleeves.”

Rowland weighed up his partner’s suggestion and nodded.

“Okay then,” Ivanova said.

“And we can reprogram the drones for gunnery practise,”

Breck added.

“Captain Dorland, your opinion?” Ivanova asked turning to the Marines Commander. She had noticed him listening avidly to the discussion, although he seemed more interested in how she stood up to Rowland.

Dorland pulled himself closer to the table. He smoothed his hand across the nape of his neck as she turned from the monitors to Ivanova.

“They may decide they can carve us up with their lasers, alternatively they may want to take the ship,” he confirmed. “Can you slow it there,” he said, indicating to the screen. Graydon directed a small remote control at the screen and they watched as the footage, this time taken by one of Babylon 5’s camera-bots, revealed a small, horned breeching pod as it homed in on the station.

“We find ourselves in harm’s way, my marines are combat ready. They’ll be stationed around the ship ready to defend the

primary systems,” Dorland assured her. “Of course one of Mike’s flyboys may want to use the pod for target practise before it reaches the hull, if they aren’t otherwise engaged.”

Oliver gave him a casual salute.

“We’ll see to it your men don’t have to interrupt their rack-time,” he told Dorland with a grin.

“So, now all we have to do is find them,” Ivanova said.

“They came through the Jump Gate, so they’re obviously using the beacons,” Graydon observed.

“The larger ships as well,” Berensen added, “so maybe they haven’t got the power to generate their own jump points.”

“Contact EFJCM and find out which of the Explorer-class ships are on active service, where they are, and the course they are currently taking,” Ivanova told Graydon. “Find out how far out into the rim they have gone and the exact locations of all recently-activated Gates.”

“You’re thinking Jump Gate Construction and Maintenance might have fast-tracked their way into our sector?” he asked.

“Unwittingly, maybe. Get copies of their mission logs to see if they give us any clues,” Ivanova instructed.

“They could have accidentally opened the door, and whatever race this in came in looking for rich pickings,” Berensen said.

“They could have indeed. Mister Maddison, what have you gleaned from the information?”

The Titans navigator took the small remote passed to him and pointed it at the screen. The footage of the battle raging outside Babylon 5 was replaced by a detailed graphic of the galaxy. All the known systems were highlighted with the borders of each race’s territory outlined.

“The Gaim Intelligence encountered the aliens on the fringes of their home territory here in the N’chak’fah System,”

Maddison said, pointing to the left of the centre of the screen, where a sun glowed brighter than the rest on the display. “The next reported attack was at Babylon 5 in Epsilon Eridani.”

The Epsilon star grew to the same intensity as he activated the remote.

“We’ve had no reports of sightings or incursions from the Markab which is down here, bordering Earth Alliance space, nor from the Narn Regime or Centauri Republic.”

“That doesn’t mean any of these alien races haven’t encountered this species. They simply might not have survived to report the attack,” Captain Dorland said.

“Exactly right. So the ambassadors aboard Babylon 5 are contacting their homeworlds to make sure every outpost and colony is still untouched, and all their warships and transports are in one piece.”

Maddison used the remote to zoom in on the graphic so that the Gaim Intelligence bordered the left side of the screen and Epsilon Eridani was on the right. Joining the two locations was a narrow band of neutral space.

Based solely on these two encounters, the alien race obviously came down this corridor, past the Sh’lassan Empire.”

“What’s there?” Berensen asked.

“The Mitoc System, Gamma 7, Sin’talith, Coriana--"

“The Coriana System?” Ivanova interrupted him. The officers around the table turned and looked at her. Maddison put down the small remote and turned towards her.

“The Coriana System, yes why?”

Ivanova waved his enquiry away.

“I’m sorry, no, it’s nothing. Please continue.”

Gradually everyone turned back toward the Maddison.

“And,” he said pointing, “Sector 49. But the EarthForce garrison there have detected no hostiles.”

Ivanova nodded. Sector 49 contained a Jump Gate and a lump of barren, frozen rock. That was all that remained after the sun in the system expanded, some eons ago, to a Red Giant and consumed whatever inner worlds had been circling it. The only value of the system was a strategic one. Before the Babylon Project was initiated, Earth Alliance used Sector 49

to establish a military base, monitoring incoming traffic from the Epsilon System. It was an uninspiring detail. In the Academy she remembered a drill sergeant haranguing the squad and telling them, “Foul-ups get the 49!” Whoever was sent there was rotated back after six months because it was so dull. After Babylon 5’s secession from the Earth Alliance, the garrison was massively expanded.

“So do we ignore Sector 49?” Ivanova asked.

“Oh God, yes please,” Graydon muttered in a way that made Ivanova glance over and wonder whether she should have read her personnel file more closely.

“Foul-up,” Berensen muttered, half jokingly.

“Okay then,” said Ivanova, “We head up this corridor toward...”

“The Hyach Gerontocracy,” Maddison announced. Ivanova nodded.

“All right then,” she said. “Let’s go hunting.”

TWENTY-THREE

Ivanova knew that the search would be a long, drawn out process. They were hunting for a new alien race across the vast reaches of space. It was not going to be easy. This was a game of hide-and-seek that could stretch across the infinite. The course had been plotted and the Titans had left the Orion System, heading out between Beta 9 and Markab territory. She could sense the excitement of the crew, but knew all too well that if results were not forthcoming it could easily turn into pent-up frustration. It was the waiting that would get to them. She had felt the same anxiety when she had been dispatched to find the First Ones. At least in those instances they had a rough idea of the area to cover. Here the boundaries were limitless. Back then she had Marcus to accompany her. Whether he was annoying her or amusing her, at least he had kept her occupied.

On the next occasion she had been assigned Lorien as her guide. Ivanova could still remember how frustrated and useless she had felt. Sheridan had decided the time had come to put an end to it, once and for all. A vast armada of every conceivable alien vessel was amassing at Babylon 5, the biggest fleet ever assembled, all preparing for the final showdown with the Shadows and Vorlons.

When he had ordered Ivanova to seek out the last remaining First Ones so close to the time of engagement, she had questioned his motives. Thinking that it was his way of keeping her out of the fight, it had brought back painful memories of when her mother, drugged by the sleepers, told her to wait with the neighbours next door. Sofie Ivanova had promised she would come for her later in the day. Except she had not. Although Sheridan promised her that she would be there for the final battle, it had still nagged at her as they travelled through space on what seemed like a hopeless cause. Even worse, while she paced the bridge of the White Star fretting, Lorien had sat impassively, biding his time. Ultimately he had been right. They had eventually found the last of the First Ones and persuaded it to join the fight.

To keep the crew on their toes, Ivanova told Breck to continue scheduling the emergency simulations, concentrating now on hull breaches and combat drills. Reading the reports from the simulation assistants, Ivanova had been pleased by the results. It would be easy to brag, given that she had the most powerful and advanced ship in the Earth Alliance fleet at her disposal, but this time she had the crew to back up any claims she made. They would track down the aliens and they would emerge triumphant.

Ivanova sat eating dinner in the Officer’s Mess when Graydon pulled up a chair across from her.

“We’ve received the logs from the four Explorer-class ships on active service,” Graydon announced as she set an electronic reader down on the table.

“Anything?”

Graydon shook her head.

“Nothing. They haven’t encountered any new species. And there are no reports from the survey teams following in their wake. No new Jump Gates have been erected this side of the rim in the last eight months. So unless they took the long way around, this race has come from somewhere else.”

“At least we know,” Ivanova said. She pushed the food around the plate, not feeling very hungry but not knowing what else to do.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Graydon said, looking around the room before turning back to Ivanova, “In the briefing room, deciding on our route to take, you... reacted at the mention of the Coriana System.”

Ivanova looked up from the plate and nodded.

“Yes.”

“I was just wondering what it was?” Graydon asked, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Ivanova put down the cutlery and pushed the plate towards the files.

“Coriana VI was where we made our stand against the Shadows and the Vorlons,” Ivanova announced. As soon as she said it, it seemed like the rest of the bridge officers had descended on the Mess. Taking their places around the table, they all seemed eager to what she had to say.

It did not surprise her. Ivanova remembered when she was first assigned to Io and having to come to terms with the routine and the same faces day in and day out. Although the officers of the Titans were experienced, hardly any of them had anything like the experiences and encounters with alien races she had. If purging the Shadowtech from the Titans had not been such a priority, and their presence there to keep kept as low profile as possible, Ivanova would have liked to have rewarded the crew with a tour of Babylon 5 to open up their eyes to the world she had lived in. Instead they made do by listening to her stories, through the telling, Ivanova had found a way to connect with the crew that she had not thought possible. She was pleased to see Lieutenant Commander Graydon included amongst them.

“The war had taken a frightening turn. The Shadows and the Vorlons were not engaging each other directly,” Ivanova said.

“Instead each were attacking worlds the other had influence. And their destruction was complete. The Vorlon’s had massive planet killers; ships that could unleash an energy discharge so powerful it could vaporise a planet’s crust.

“As for the Shadows, theirs was perhaps the most terrifying thing I have ever seen. A black cloud would enshroud the planet,”

she said, cupping her hands around an imaginary globe in front of her. “From it, thousands upon thousands of missiles would be released. Dropping down toward the surface, they would burrow miles underground to the very core before they detonated, blowing the planet up from the inside.”

She looked around at the faces. The plates remained untouched.

“I know some of you aren’t fans of John Sheridan, or me, and what he did. But before that, when the enemy was out there amongst the stars, he united the races. Many were too weak on their own. No one species could have taken on the Shadows or the Vorlons and even hope to survive.

“And to show their gratitude, they joined forces again to help him take back Earth because they believe in us. We belong out here amongst the stars. And we need all the help we can get.”

“And Coriana VI?” Graydon said, trying to steer her back to the story.

“It’s a low-technology world that was easily susceptible to the Shadows who quickly established a base there. Six billion people lived there, none of whom deserved to die, simply because they had become pawns in this terrible conflict.

“From intelligence reports we surmised the Vorlons would make Coriana its next target. Sheridan tricked the Shadows into

thinking we had established a secret base there. Both sides arrived and there we were, slap bang in the middle.”

“What happened?” Maddison asked.

“Oh, we won,” Ivanova said. “We had the last of the First Ones on our side, the last of the ancient races that had evolved long before either the Shadows or Vorlons came into being. When, millions of years ago, their race had left the galaxy and gone far beyond the Rim, one or two had stayed behind, hidden away from all the different alien species that followed.”

“So you beat these Shadows and Vorlons?”

“Not exactly. They were persuaded that we didn’t need their guidance anymore. That we didn’t need them.”

Ivanova looked around at the looks of confusion growing on their faces.

“I don’t want to get into a debate about it. We won. Be happy about it.”

“I suppose you had to be there,” Graydon said.

On the bridge Ivanova sat and stared at the screen in front of her. If they were in luck, the watching game should be over soon enough. They had travelled through hyperspace, bypassing the Sh’lassan Empire and Coriana System. Coming up was their first viable hunting ground.

“Approaching the beacon for the Sin’talith System, Captain,” Maddison announced.

“Activate jump engines,” Ivanova ordered.

“Aye, sir. Jump engines on-line,” he replied.

“Jump back to normal space,” Ivanova said. She watched the monitors as the raging inferno of hyperspace was replaced by the cold tranquillity of space.

“Anything?” Ivanova asked Breck. The communications officer looked preoccupied as he stared at his console.

“Lieutenant Breck, any contacts?” she repeated. This time he looked up from his screen and shook his head.

“So signals as yet, Captain.”

“Check with the military outpost at Sin’talith III”

Berensen suggested. “They’re supposed to monitor traffic through the system, maybe they’ve seen something.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Ivanova agreed.

“This is the EAS Titans to Sin’talith III,” Breck announced as he opened a channel. “Are you receiving, over? EAS Titans to Sin’talith III, please respond.”

Breck looked at Ivanova and Berensen, a puzzled expression on his face.

“This is the EAS Titans to Sin’talith III outpost, please respond, over,” he repeated. “EAS Titans to Sin’talith III outpost, please respond.”

He paused, listening to the empty silence.

“EAS Titans to Sin’talith III outpost, are you receiving, over?” he tried a third time. Met with silence, Breck pulled off the headset as Ivanova and Graydon joined Berensen around his station.

Breck shook his head. “Nothing,” he said.

“How many people manning the outpost?” Ivanova asked.

“About one hundred,” Berensen replied.

“Maybe they’re at lunch?” Graydon suggested. Her smile fading when she saw the look Ivanova gave her.

“We’ve got multiple contacts!” Maddison announced, as a wavering line of symbols suddenly flashed up on his screen.

“Alien raiders?” Ivanova asked as the information was relayed to the main screen. She stared at the scattered line of red dots that curved in front of the Titans.

“Unsure,” Maddison replied. “There are low-level power spikes but I’m not reading any life signs.”

“I’m not getting any recognition signals,” Breck added.

“Maybe they’ve got some sort of cloak in operation that is disrupting our sensor sweeps,” Berensen said.

“Set condition one across the ship!” Ivanova barked.

“Red alert!” Graydon’s voice echoed throughout the ship.

“This is not a drill! We are at red alert!”

Ivanova returned to the captain’s chair as the graphic flashed up on the screen.

“How far?” Ivanova asked.

“The bogeys are holding formation at thirteen-hundred kilometres,” Breck replied, consulting the screen.

“This could be their first wave of attack,” Berensen suggested.

Ivanova folded her arms and looked at him, grim faced.

“Forward batteries powering up,” Graydon announced.

“Launch Starfuries,” Ivanova instructed.

“Alpha Squadron, immediate launch,” Graydon barked over the intercom, “Repeat, immediate launch!”

The Starfury wing powered away from the Titans. The fighters closed into a tight formation as they turned on an intercept course.

Piloting the lead Starfury, Oliver activated the fighter’s smart targeting computer. As the on-screen contacts flashed closer, he powered up the Pulse Cannons.

“Time on target, five minutes. Alpha Squadron, weapons-free on my command.”

On the Titans bridge Ivanova looked from Graydon to Berensen as they listened to Oliver calmly relayed the instructions to his pilots.

“Any movement from them?” she asked Breck. Breck shook his head.

“No change. Some minor power spikes, but they’re still laying low,” he replied.

“Well, we’ll know soon enough,” Ivanova said.

As he raced toward the target, Oliver looked through the cockpit and saw the dark shapes drifting before him blot out the stars. On the targeting computer he saw the graphic shapes gradually rotating. His finger ready to depress the trigger, instead he hit the manoeuvring thrusters, pulling up as tiny lumps of debris bounced against the struts of his Starfury.

“Alpha Squadron, break off,” he instructed. The tight formation spread out around him, arcing up over his ship and then banking around.

“Keep a perimeter and be on the lookout for any bogeys. Moyer and Felstein, you’re down with me.”

Two Starfuries spun themselves about using the pivotal thrusters and headed back towards his ship. Before him floated the remnants of a convoy. Traversing the debris, Oliver gauged there had been eight freighters in total with an escort of possibly the same number of fighters. Sparks fizzed from the exposed propulsion units. The computer screen picked up the waning power signal from a freighter’s reactor. The attack had been quick and merciless. Cargo pods floated amongst the shards of hull, scorched by close-quarter weapons fire.

“Alpha Squadron to Titans. Negative on hostiles. Repeat, negative on hostiles,” Oliver announced. A short burst from the manoeuvring thrusters slowed his progress. Oliver’s Starfury drifted over the length of the debris field. The spotlight mounted under the cockpit danced over the shifting metal plates that had been blown from the ships by the explosive decompression.

He saw fighters that had been torn in two, their charged pulse cannons glowing faintly in the dark as they leaked plasma. Cockpits were blown open. The spotlight illuminated the markings on the stunted wings that hung from the ragged hulls. A body cartwheeled gently through the wreckage. Oliver activated the starboard foil thrusters to swing the Starfury around. He stared at the thick, mottled skin of the frozen Narn pilot as it lazily drifted past his cockpit.

“Titans, this is Oliver. Whatever happened here is over. It looks like a convoy and escort crossed paths with these aliens. The markings appear to be Narn.”

“Lieutenant, we’ve got something over here,” Oliver heard in his headset.

He piloted his ship over the broken remains to where Moyer and Felstein’s Starfuries were tipped upside down, pointing towards the darkened hull of a fighter craft. Their searchlights were directed at the patterned hull that was definitely not Narn. Oliver immediately recognised one of the alien fighters. As Moyer and Felstein moved their ships back to allow him the space to manoeuvre, he carefully positioned his Starfury directly over the alien craft. A small grapple extended from the base of the Starfury. Manipulating the controls, Oliver gently grasped a metal strut on the torn metal edge of the fighter.

“Let’s get this back to the barn,” he said.

TWENTY-FOUR

The alien fighter was mounted on magnetic grapples and carefully moved into the landing bay. Ivanova and Berensen had waited patiently as a damage control team in environment suits checked the ship. When it was given the all clear they stood to

one side, watching as the deck crew swarmed around it, gently lowering the ship to the deck. Oliver and Rowland walked around the fighter, examining it from close range. They had repeatedly reviewed the footage from Babylon 5 and reprogrammed the flight simulator, now they had an opportunity to examine their enemy up close.

The ship was virtually intact. One of the wings had been torn away and there were holes gouged in the tail section but the main fuselage looked unscathed. Ivanova stepped forward, watching the pilots. She was more interested in seeing it through their eyes. They crouched down to examine the weapons, absently smoothing the hull as they held on for balance. Oliver rolled onto his back and slid under the ship to continue his examination while Rowland stepped over the tapered wings, kneeling to inspect the thrusters.

“Let’s get the cockpit open,” Rowland called out to the deck crew.

Cutting equipment was wheeled out as Oliver appeared from the other side of the ship. The maintenance crew carefully cut into the cockpit canopy. Each piece they removed was laid out on the deck. Oliver climbed up onto the ship and scrabbled around on his hands and knees, trying to get an angle so he could see inside.

Ivanova watched from the deck, stepping to the side so that she had an uninterrupted view. As the enclosed cockpit was partially revealed she saw the pilot. His head lolled to the side, encased in a silver helmet that reflected Oliver’s face and the roof of the landing bay above him.

“Doctor Benton, report to the main landing bay with a medical team,” Ivanova said into her link. She stepped around the maintenance crew and stood right in front of the fighter, looking up at Oliver.

“How does it look in there?” she asked.

Oliver placed his hands firmly on the hull and leant forward, looking straight down in to the cockpit. He borrowed a pencil torch from one of the maintenance crew and swept the light around, picking up the details.

“Some of the tactical displays appear more or less intact,”

he said, giving a running commentary of his findings. “On the main control panel, it looks like some of the metal bracings have been torn out. And there are long shards of a framework that looks like they belonged to a different vessel altogether.

“So what do you think happened?”

Oliver knelt back on the hull and brushed his hands.

“At a guess I’d say one of the Narn escorts clipped his wing. The pilot lost control of the ship and was unlucky enough to be hit head on by debris from one of the transports.”

Ivanova nodded and walked around the ship. She signalled to Benton as he entered the landing bay with two assistants.

“What about the pilot?” Ivanova asked.

“He’s pretty banged up,” Oliver said, looking back into the cockpit. “He’s been skewered straight through the lower abdomen

and pinned to the seat. Where the frame is buckled from the impact his right hand has been crushed between the supports.”

Ivanova looked over at Benton as he approached the fighter.

“Doctor?”

“I have the original autopsy footage from Babylon 5, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have first hand experience.”

“Okay then, doc,” Oliver said. “We’re going to need cutting equipment if you want to get him out. I can’t guarantee we’ll have him out in one piece, but we’ll try our best.”

Ivanova and Benton step out of the way as a portable gantry was rolled into place. Oliver stepped off the fuselage onto the platform beside Chief Petty Officer Lewis Mitchell, the head of the Starfury Maintenance Crew.

“Here’s a little something different for you Chief. What do you think?”

“I think we need to get everyone who doesn’t need to be here the hell out,” he said gruffly.

Mitchell knelt down and looked into the cockpit.

“Before we dig him out,” he said, referring to the alien pilot, “I’d like to take the fuselage apart so we can see what’s under there. Before we start firing up any more cutting equipment I’d like to make sure we’re not slicing through an injector relay.”

“You’re the boss,” Oliver said.

Mitchell stood up and leant against the gantry railing, looking down at his men.

“All right, we’re going to move this down to Flight Bay 3. I want full quarantine procedure. We’re going to take this apart slowly and carefully.”

He hurried down the ladder and walked over towards Benton.

“Doctor Benton,” he said, wiping his hands with a cloth,

“I’m sorry you’ve been called down here prematurely but it’s the ship we’ve got to carve up first. We’ll call you when you can collect the body.”

He ran the cloth across his forehead and nodded to Ivanova, turning back to the fighter.

“Okay, let’s do this,” he announced, as the crew pulled the gantry away.

An overhead crane rumbled across the ceiling, stopping directly above the alien fighter. The Deck Crew unwrapped wide, padded slings that were looped under the wings and fuselage and attached to the winch dangling above them.

“I’ll call you from MedLab,” Benton told Ivanova. She watched him follow his attendants out of the hanger and was about to leave herself when Berensen wandered over. They watched the fighter as it was carefully manoeuvred across the bay. The crew gently lowered it down onto a platform that was just large enough for the ship and the deck crew as they huddled closely around it. On instructions from Mitchell, the platform began to sink below the deck.

“Mister Mitchell certainly has a unique attitude,” Ivanova commented.

“Usually he’s just annoyed at the pilots who bash up his Starfuries. And the officers who send the pilots out to bash up his Starfuries. But if you want a job done, he’ll get it done.”

“As long as we get our job done,” Ivanova said. “Have we heard anything back from the Narn governing body about their convoy?”

“Captain Ivanova to the bridge,” Graydon announced over the intercom before Berensen could answer. “Captain to the bridge.”

“Jump point just opened,” Graydon informed Ivanova as she stepped onto the bridge.

“The aliens?” Ivanova asked.

Graydon shook her head.

“It’s a Narn Cruiser.”

Ivanova settled into her chair and looked at the G’Quan Heavy Cruiser that appeared on the main screen. Once the backbone of the Narn militia, few of the Cruisers remained operational after the Centauri’s brutal assault on the Narn homeworld almost three years ago. The ones that survived had done so only because they had been out on deep space patrols when the bulk of the fleet was lured into a trap and destroyed at the same time Centauri warships ringed the Narn home planet and bombed it from orbit using Mass Drivers.

Ivanova looked at the brightly coloured irregular geometric shapes that patterned the ship’s sleek hull, leading down to the two sharp prongs, between which were housed the twin-linked particle laser cannons.

“The ship is hailing us,” Breck informed her.

“Put them through,” Ivanova instructed.

The face on the ship’s commander filled the main screen. The Narn stared straight ahead, the red eyes burning through the screen.

“This is Warleader Ke’Tal of the star cruiser N’Tek,” he announced.

“Captain Susan Ivanova of the EAS Titans,” she replied.

“You are hunting the alien aggressors that attacked Babylon 5. Citizen G’Kar informed our government that the attack took place.”

Anyone unfamiliar with the race may have been intimidated by the directness but Ivanova merely took it in her stride.

“Well, we haven’t had any luck yet. I’m afraid we were too late here,” she explained.

“The convoy from Markar was reported overdue and no contact was received.”

“The attack looks fresh so we can’t be far behind. You’re very welcome to join us on the hunt,” she offered. Ke’Tal snorted at the suggestion.

“Our ships are massing at our borders. They will pay dearly for what has happened here. We will contact you if we discover them. Then you are welcome to join us in battle.”

He broke contact.

The screen reverted to the N’Tek. Ivanova watched it turn away. As the cruiser headed away from the Titans it opened a jump point and disappeared into hyperspace.

“Well, it looks like it’s just us after all,” Graydon said to Ivanova.

“Any luck contacting the Sin’talith III outpost?” Ivanova asked Breck.

“Still no contact.”

“The control of the base is shared by the Interstellar Alliance. Any idea which race is currently on rotation?”

Breck shook his head.

“I suppose we’ll soon find out. We can’t stay here any longer. Drop a marker buoy and get us back on course.”

“Aye, Captain,” Graydon said. “At least we know we’re heading in the right direction.”

“The information came at a cost, for the Narn at least.”

Ivanova stood up and leant against the railing. The Narns, she knew, would not think twice before exacting their revenge for what happened here.

“I don’t know what’s going to be worse for these aliens,”

she confided to Graydon, “whether we get to them first or the Narn.”

TWENTY-FIVE

Once the Titans slipped back into hyperspace, on course for the next star system, Ivanova was summoned to the MedLab. The alien pilot had been successfully removed from the fighter and Benton was preparing to conduct an autopsy within the confines of one of the facility’s Isolabs.

Ivanova stood in front of the thick partition that separated her from the operating table. Through the glass she watched the doctor and his assistants stand around the body. All of them were wearing breathing masks and protective clothing. Cameras mounted on the ceiling were directed at the table below them and multi-angle views of the alien appeared on a bank of monitors.

It lay spread out on the operating table. The hand that had been crushed in the cockpit had already been removed, probably in the Flight Bay and the stump was already expertly bandaged. The uniform, Ivanova noticed, was similar to that of the shock troopers who had invaded Babylon 5. It was a deep rust red that reminded her of dried blood. The sleeves were ribbed, with gauges sewn into the forearm.

The helmet tapered back to a point so that standing up it would had resembled a curved teardrop. The faceplate was silver and reflected the ceiling lights. A close-up on the monitor showed hairline fractures and pockmarks that distorted the reflection.

“We’ll start with the helmet,” Benton announced. Marilyn Farber, one of the nurses assisting him, carefully felt around the seal of the helmet. She depressed a stud that her

fingers had located and the helmet suddenly loosened. A puff of gas seeped out through the narrow gap. Nurse Angela Daley quickly held up a sensor and examined the readings.

“Thirty parts methane, ten parts carbon monoxide,” she announced. “That’s a particularly heady brew.”

Benton nodded.

“Okay, carefully now,” he insisted.

Benton and Daley reached under the alien’s shoulders and lifted the torso up from the table so that Farber could gently pull the helmet free.

She carefully set it down at the far end of the counter beside the table. Ivanova had to wait for Farber to move out of the way before she could see the alien properly.

“Hello, mister ugly,” Benton murmured.

The alien’s skin was the colour of faded ochre. It was mottled with deep crimson blotches, some no bigger than liver spots. At first Ivanova thought they might be bruises from the impact but as one camera zoomed in on the face she saw that the marks were faintly marbled with streaks of pearl white and grey that overlapped the lighter skin.

The skin was stretched tight over lumps of bone that looked like sheets of rock that had been broken up from being dropped on top of one another. The nose was a blunt ridge. The chin jutted forward with a deep cleft that made it look, like two separate points. The mouth was thin with narrow, dark purple lips. Benton tried to prise the jaw apart.

“We’re going to have to break the jaw to get a good look inside,” he announced.

For the time being he contented himself with pulling the lips back. The teeth were pearl grey and grew irregularly from the almost black gums.

“Fierce looking little suckers,” he added, “and one with a very different view towards orthodontics.”

In his last moments of life the alien had coughed up blood with speckled the lips and dried a deep indigo on the chin.

“Get a swab of that,” he instructed Nurse Daley who reached for a testing kit behind her.

“Height is one-hundred-and-ninety-two centimetres and it weighs just under one-hundred-and-fourteen kilograms,” Benton announced, speaking toward the microphone that hung from the ceiling.

As he recorded his initial findings and observations, Ivanova looked at the helmet resting on the counter. At first she had thought it was decorative but judging from the angles displayed on the monitors it was purely functional. Separate ridges that began on the brow, just above the eyes, curved in toward the top of the forehead, overlapped and then continued out along the sides and top of the skull, building up off the sides of the skull to create two twisted horns that gradually tapered to a point as they curved back behind the head.

“Okay, lets lift him up to document this,” Benton said. They pulled the alien into an almost sitting position while the

head was turned from side to side making sure that the cameras saw both views.

“They look like horns that had been put on backwards,”

Graydon said as she stepped into the MedLab. Benton looked through the glass, considering her verdict before he helped lay the alien back down on the table.

“Lieutenant,” Ivanova said. “What’s our status?”

“We’re on course for the Gamma 7 system. We finally got through to the Mining Syndicate representative.”

“And?” Ivanova asked.

She watched Benton peel back the alien’s eyelids with his fingers. He turned the head toward the nearest camera. Both Ivanova and Graydon shifted their gaze to the monitor where the eyeball filled the screen. The eyeball was gold and flecked with crimson. A broken blood vessel had left a tiny dark indigo smudge in the upper right corner. The pupil had reduced to a tiny black dot.

“He told us that they hadn’t seen anything. Any hostile aliens that do come their way had better watch out. Apparently they’ll be tossed headfirst into the nearest active volcano. Oh, and we aren’t especially welcome there.”

“Is that what you inferred from the conversation?”

“No, he said it outright.”

Graydon watched as the pilot’s uniform was carefully cut open. The sleeves were removed first revealing elbow joints that had lumps of bone jutting out at odd angles. The glove was pulled off the existing hand revealing long jointed fingers that by comparison seemed exceptionally delicate.

“What are the sensor capabilities like on Gamma 7?”

“Pretty limited,” Graydon said. “They’re stuck on that rock, only interested in ships that bring supplies or come to take away the Quantium-40 and whatever else they’ve dug out the ground. Everything else can go straight to hell from the sound of it.”

“So the aliens could have easily passed through the system unnoticed.”

“Or stayed in hyperspace. Or not come this way at all.”

“There’s always that. Do you think we’re still on the right course?” Ivanova asked, turning away from the operation to fix her gaze on Graydon.

“We won’t know until we find out. This could all be a complete waste of time. They could have doubled back on us or taken a sharp turn into Brakiri or Descari space. But none of the other races have reported further sightings or attacks. Maybe they came, they saw, they didn’t get to conquer and decided to go straight back home.”

“And stay there? The Narn were a peaceful agrarian race until the Centauri turned up and enslaved them. If these aliens came out looking for a fight, its doubtful they’ll hang up their gloves and forget about the whole thing.”

“If we start changing course, we’ll have to get the proper authorisation to cross into the various territories.”

The alien’s abdomen was already torn open by the metal that had impaled it. Benton fired up a saw and cut open the chest. As he peeled back the layer of skin and muscle, a piece of the large lattice of bone that approximated the ribcage snapped away and he casually passed it to Nurse Daley.

He peered in at the arrangement of internal organs that were caked in the inky-black blood.

“Massive trauma to the vital organs,” he announced.

“And that’s what killed him?” Ivanova asked over the intercom.

“That’s the thing with vital organs, the clue is always in the name.”

Ivanova looked at Graydon who just shrugged.

“He’s like that with everyone,” she said.

“It’s not just me?” Ivanova asked.

“Not this time,” Graydon said, looking through the glass.

Ivanova stayed long enough to watch Benton enthusiastically poke around in the open chest cavity before the first of the organs were lifted out and weighed. She returned to the bridge to continue the waiting game. Graydon might have been right, that the attack on the Narn convoy suggested they were on the right course.

She stared long and hard at the graphic on the screen in front of her. After Gamma 7 there was the Mitoc System, and then Krish in the Cascor Commonwealth. Next came the Hyach Gerontocracy and after that the emptiness of uncharted space. She wondered how far they could keep going.

The more she looked at the screen, the more the alien attack on Babylon 5 did not make sense to her. There were far too many worlds to conquer before Epsilon Eridani. Why make Babylon 5

their target? The answer had to be there in front of her but somehow she just could not see it.

Ivanova looked around the bridge. Everyone stood quietly at their station, monitoring the progress of the Titans as it headed through hyperspace. Lieutenant Breck caught her attention. He appeared to be repeatedly keying information into his system and frowning at the results. She watched him for a moment then, spun around and turned to Berensen. He too was watching Breck with a puzzled look on his face.

“How long until we reach Gamma 7?” she asked. Berensen turned to her but it was Lieutenant Maddison who answered.

“Fifteen hours at present speed, Captain.”

She stood up and walked toward the screen. Berensen crossed the bridge to join her.

“Captain?” he asked.

“Something here doesn’t sit right,” she confided. “But I can’t figure out what it is.”

“What’s not right?” Berensen asked.

Ivanova shrugged. Perhaps not all the pieces were on the board yet, and those that were she could not fit together.

“I’ll know it when I see it,” was all she could say.

TWENTY-SIX

Ivanova was finishing her lunch when the call came through her link.

“Captain, we’ve got a contact,” Berensen announced from the bridge.

“How many ships?” she asked.

“One.”

“One?”

“Just the one,” he confirmed.

She wiped her mouth with the napkin and headed for the bridge. The Titans had dropped out of hyperspace less than thirty minutes ago. Over breakfast, Ivanova had consulted with Berensen and Graydon about their next move. The representative of the mining colony at Gamma 7 had been abrupt but maybe that was just a front.

Ivanova did not doubt that if they found themselves in trouble, an Earth Alliance destroyer in the vicinity would be the first ship they would contact. The Narn convoy had likely been destroyed because they had crossed paths with the retreating aliens. In such a situation, Ivanova figured, it was a coin toss as to who fired first. The question remained, what were the aliens doing travelling in normal space? If they were hopping systems like the Titans, surely it would be better to stay in hyperspace and catch up with them?

Ivanova had personally contacted Gamma 7 to enquire whether they were expecting any transports in the near future. The mining representative was humouring her, she could tell, but it was important to find the answer. The next shipment of Quantium-40

was not due for another eleven days, which meant unless the aliens decided to launch an assault on the colony itself, there should be nothing there for them.

Graydon suggested they ignore the system all together and Ivanova was inclined to agree. It was Berensen who recommended that they cover all the ground so as not to have to double back on themselves and Ivanova could see his point.

“Can we get a visual?” Ivanova asked as she entered the bridge. “I’d like to see if it had ‘bait’ painted across the hull in big letters.”

Having mulled over the idea of ignoring the Gamma 7 System altogether before rejecting it, Ivanova had hoped that they would find some evidence of the aliens. Not to break the monotony, but only to weigh favour to her theory that the aliens were not so much retreating as leading the Titans by the nose. It may be a paranoid fantasy on her part, but with sleep escaping her and her brain active, she had come to the possible realisation that the aliens were letting them catch up.

They had two days head start on the Titans. By the time they had reached the Sin’talith System, the aliens should have been long gone. But the autopsy report from Benton inferred that

the alien pilot had been less than two days. The aliens were not running. They were dawdling. What Ivanova wanted to know was why?

The screen changed to the blackness of space. Amongst the stars was a small cruiser.

“It matches the ships that attacked Babylon 5.”

“How long has it been there?”

“Unknown,” Berensen said. “When we jumped back to normal space it was initially hidden from our sensors by one of the gas giants in the system.”

“Any energy spikes?”

“Negative, Captain,” Berensen said.

“If they had a faulty fusion reactor that was slowing them down, I could probably fall for that,” Graydon muttered from her console.

Ivanova shook her head.

“No, you still wouldn’t fall for that,” she said. “So they’re just... tootling about like they’re out for a Sunday drive? How long before they reach the jump gate?”

“At there current speed, nine hours.”

“Maybe we should pull up alongside and ask which direction they’re heading?” Ivanova decided. “That would certainly save us some trouble.”

She turned to Breck and nodded. He punched a series of buttons on his console.

“This is the Earth Alliance Ship Titans to unidentified vessel,” he announced.

A hiss of static came back through the intercom. Through it sounds rose and fell.

“What is that?” Graydon asked.

“This is the Earth Alliance Ship Titans to unidentified vessel, please respond,” Breck continued. The noises grew louder. To Ivanova it sounded like a rasping clatter, unlike anything any she had heard before.

“Are we having difficulty establishing contact?” she asked.

“We have established contact,” Maddison said.

“They are Var Krelecz,” a voice finally replied. “I am H’Lan. I am... an intermediary. I can translate.” The words came out slowly. Each one sounded like it was caught in his throat, as if he was fighting for breath after an asthma attack. Ivanova turned to Berensen, surprised that they had made a breakthrough.

“H’Lan, I am Captain Susan Ivanova of the EAS Titans,”

“Titans Iva-no-va,” the breathless voice announced in a way that made her wonder whether Var was the name of the alien ship and Krelecz its captain.

She sat, waiting for him to continue but he said nothing else.

“We were concerned about your ship. Are you having difficulty with your propulsion drive?”

“H’Lan. Engines problem. We have... repaired.”

My god, this is hard work, she thought. Ivanova looked from Berensen to Graydon.

“We belong to an alliance of many different worlds and races, working in co-operation to better ourselves,” Ivanova explained. “It is our duty, once we make contact with new races, such as the Var Krelecz in this instance, to see if a connection can be made to foster relations and trade.”

Ivanova rubbed her temples while she waited for a response. Berensen turned to Breck

“We accept... your invitation,” H’Lan. “We come to you in our planet ship.”

Planet ship? Graydon mouthed.

“Their shuttle, maybe,” Berensen whispered. Breck looked up from his console.

“They’ve broken contact,” he informed them.

“Well, that went well,” Ivanova said.

“Did they just invite themselves over?” Graydon asked incredulously.

“You know, I think they did,” Ivanova asked. “Sheridan hoped it was possible to try and make contact with them rather than simply go looking for a fight.”

“After they gave Babylon 5 a pasting?”

“He knows not to always go on first impressions.”

Ivanova climbed out of her chair and turned to Graydon.

“Ready to act the diplomat, Lieutenant?” she asked. Graydon looked stunned.

“Me?”

“You’re familiar with First Contact Protocol?” Ivanova wondered.

“Yes, but I’ve never had to put it into practice.”

“Well, now seems as good a time as any,” Ivanova said.

“The alien cruiser is launching a shuttle,” Berensen announced.

On the screen Ivanova watched a small, bulbous shape drop away from the cruiser’s underbelly.

Ivanova turned to Berensen.

“Mr Berensen, you have the bridge,” she said. “Direct them in to the main landing bay. If anything happens to us, you have my permission to unleash hell. In fact, lets make it a direct order.”

Exiting the bridge, Ivanova contacted Captain Dorland. Since the discovery of the Narn convoy, marines had been posted around the ship. By the time they reached the landing bay a whole squad of marines were waiting outside both entrances. Dorland assigned troopers Martin Lippard and Andrea Ballentine as personal protection for the two officers.

“They’ll be stationed just inside the bulkhead,” Dorland explained before Ivanova could veto the idea. “I know you want it to be strictly one-on-one but who’s to say they don’t come with bodyguards.”

“By the door,” Ivanova relented.

“I thought we were out here to kick their asses anyway,”

Dorland muttered as Ivanova and Graydon stepped into the landing bay.

The noise was also deafening. Shutters were being hurriedly brought down in front of the Starfuries to separate them from the front of the landing bay and the sound was echoing around the confined space.

“Everything sorted out in case they want to take a guided tour?”

“They’re not going to see the Starfuries for obvious reasons. Benton bagged the alien pilot. He said it was either going into storage or down to the mess hall kitchen. Rowland and Oliver have the craft stowed and Landing Bay 3 is locked down.”

“If they do want a look around they only get the edited highlights. Anything of military value gets missed off the itinerary.”

“So they’re not getting out of the hanger?”

“I’m not sure they should even be allowed in the hanger,”

she decided as the space-lock doors started to part. “It seems pretty convenient that they’re here, don’t you think?”

The shuttle resembled a bulbous, elongated version of the fighter. Ivanova was happy to see it came without the weaponry. The split at the back was more stunted. The curved wings came out of the roof and twisted down to join the side of the fuselage. Ivanova felt happy that she had agreed to Dorland’s suggestion. As the hatch slid open, the first two figures off the shuttle wore the crimson armour and tall helmets of the shock troopers that had invaded Babylon 5. The soldiers took a step forward then moved to their sides, flanking the open hatch with their backs to the hull. Both held lances with pointed glass bulbs at the tip in which bursts of flame sparked and merged. A further two soldiers followed behind them, taking two steps forward before fanning out to the side. They dropped their arms to their sides so that the base of the lances rested on the deck.

“How many do you think they have in there?” Graydon muttered, echoing Ivanova’s thoughts.

Those were the last of the honour guards. Slowly a figure descended from the shuttle. It swayed with the gait of a punchdrunk boxer just up off the canvas, and Ivanova wondered if it was used to a different gravity.

It wore a broad rust-coloured chestplate patterned with etched symbols that appeared to be inlaid with gold. Attached to the top corners of the chestplate, a dark robe that was finely detailed around the edge was draped over shoulder pads that were shaped like the horns curving back over the alien pilot’s head. Although the robe was long and flowing, hitching it up over the horns meant that it barely managed to scrape the floor. A wide sash of gold and crimson encircled its waist, covering up part of a dark environment suit that was ribbed vertically and patterned with gold and crimson embroidery that created a subliminal Y-shape running down its arms and legs. Rust-coloured knee-high boots covered the feet. The hands were gloved and running along the fingers, which were more slender than the pilots, were interwoven metal threads that caught the light.

A large metal brace, surrounded by a high collar, rested on the shoulders. On top of the brace was a large clear helmet that was faintly tear-shaped. The helmet seemed to filled with a swirling gas. Bursts of light sparkled inside, moving almost haphazardly as if they were borne on a wind and being swirled around. As the figure moved, Ivanova saw there actually was a pattern to the motes of light. They gathered and separated almost at random, but when they joined together the lights resembled a pair of glowing eyes.

The figure that stepped out from behind its shadow looked as if it was from a different race altogether. It was short and slender to the point of emaciation, wearing plainer robes that were wrapped repeatedly around its body in an effort to give it some bulk.

The head looked almost too big for the body. Wisps of long hair the colour of straw flowed back over its head although the hairline had receded the reveal a broad forehead. Ivanova thought one side of his face was in shadow because of the way he held his head. When he turned she saw that his face had been severely burnt sometime in the past and the flesh was dark and leathery.

“Welcome aboard the EAS Titans, I am Captain Susan Ivanova,” she said taking a step towards them.

The slender figure had positioned itself in front and to the left of the swaying alien.

“I am H’Lan,” he said and nodded.

“This is my Executive Officer, Lieutenant Commander Amelia Graydon.”

“H’Lan,” she nodded.

H’Lan raised his right arm toward the alien standing behind him.

“Var Krelecz,” he explained.

“Var Krelecz,” the emissary said. As it spoke random symbols on the chestplate glowed.

Ivanova turned toward the Var Krelecz emissary who took a wavering step towards her.

“We are honoured that you accepted our invitation to come aboard,” Ivanova said.

This time a chattering noise rattled from inside the helmet, directed toward H’Lan as best Ivanova could tell. In tandem, the symbols on the breastplate were illuminated with different colours.

“You show great... humility,” H’Lan said once the emissary fell silent. He looked around to gauge their reactions at whether he had said the right word or not.

The chattering noise started again.

“And honour,” H’Lan added uncertainly.

“At least it’s not as cryptic as Vorlon,” Ivanova murmured to Graydon.

The chattering stopped immediately. The sparkles of light spun angrily around the helmet before they coalesced into two narrowing glowing eyes that fixed on Ivanova.

“Voch’Kolan?!” the emissary announced, its voice an echoing rasp.

“You know of... Vorlon?” H’Lan asked, warily.

“Good hearing,” Graydon hissed as she stepped closer to Ivanova.

“Voch’Kolan?” the emissary repeated, the rattling in its helmet growing louder and more agitated.

“You know Vorlon?” H’Lan asked again, growing more suspicious.

“I’ve encountered the Vorlon in the past, yes. The nature of our work means that we trade with numerous races,” Ivanova tried to explain.

The Var Krelecz emissary ignored her. He raised his arm, tentatively reaching out into the air, as the glowing eyes shifted around the helmet, searching for something.

“Voch’Kolan?” it rattled, the symbols gleaming on its breastplate. The helmet quivered as the lights separated into tiny filaments that swirled angrily around. Ivanova heard Graydon catch her breath. She looked at the shock troop escort. Although they remained impassive throughout, she could sense that the marines standing at the bulkhead were getting itchy trigger fingers.

The lights inside the teardrop helmet slowed. Their intensity diminished. The Var Krelecz emissary lowered its head. The rattling in the helmet was subdued, directed solely at H’Lan who stepped towards him and held out his arm. The emissary used it as support as he slowly turned around and headed back toward the shuttle.

“Is that it?” Graydon asked Ivanova.

“H’Lan?” Ivanova asked, but the translator ignored her. He hung his head and for a brief moment Ivanova thought she saw him shake his head.

Ivanova was about to take a step toward them when the lights in the landing bay started to flicker.

“Now what’s happening?” Ivanova said.

The room dimmed. The aliens ignored the change in the lighting.

Ivanova heard the PPG caps charging in the marine’s pistols. Without turning around she stretched her hand out behind her, fingers splayed to tell them to stand down. The Var Krelecz emissary was at the steps the shuttle when the room was plunged into darkness.

“Graydon to bridge, we’ve got a power loss in the main landing bay. What’s going on down here?” she said.

“We’re registering it. No explanation yet,” Berensen said over the link.

“I thought we’d got rid of this crap,” Graydon growled.

“Let’s just stay calm,” Ivanova told Graydon. Just as she was wondering what to do the lights blinked back on.

Directly ahead of Ivanova, H’Lan was climbing up the shuttle steps. The four soldiers now fanned around him, their backs to her.

“Where’s the Var Krelecz emissary?” Ivanova asked. “Did he get onboard the shuttle?”

“I didn’t see,” Graydon replied. She turned around to the marines. They looked just as confused.

The shuttle hatch slid shut.

“Did he get on the ship?” Ivanova asked. Graydon shrugged.

“Do you want to hold them here?” she suggested.

“And do what, search their ship?”

They felt the vibration as the shuttle’s engines powered up.

“Hanger control. Open the space-lock doors,” Ivanova said into her link.

Ivanova and Graydon headed toward the bulkhead. The hatch slid open and the marines waited for them to go through first. Ivanova allowed Graydon out before her. She stopped in the bulkhead, watching the shuttle gently lift up off the deck. Ivanova looked around at the Starfuries, turning to look in the empty corners of the hanger. There was a feeling that didn’t sit right with her. She shook her head and stepped out of the hanger. The marines followed right behind her and the hatch slid shut.

“That could have gone better,” Graydon observed after Dorland had left with the marines.

Ivanova looked around the corridor, distracted.

“You know, the last time I had to do something like this, the ambassador for that species expected sex afterwards.”

“Oh, nasty!”

“Exactly.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

“Captain on the bridge,” Berensen announced as they returned from the hanger.

Ivanova went straight to her chair and looked at the screen.

“The shuttle has left the Titans, returning to the alien vessel,” Berensen informed her. “How did it go?”

“Well, they were here and then they left,” Graydon said. Berensen looked at Ivanova, noticed she seemed preoccupied.

“Captain?” he asked.

Ivanova watched as the shuttle circled the Var Krelecz cruiser and disappeared into the hull.

“They’re Var Krelecz,” she said. “That much we know.”

“Var Krelecz,” Berensen repeated, glancing at Graydon. “And they’re from?”

“That didn’t come up in conversation,” Ivanova said. “Any explanation for the power loss?”

Berensen shook his head.

“The Chief is working on it but all systems appeared as normal.”

“It was a localised anomaly?”

He nodded.

“So far as we can tell.”

“The alien ship is powering up,” Graydon informed her.

“It’s moving off. Heading toward the Jump Gate.”

“Let it go, for now,” Ivanova said, her eyes fixed on the screen. “Take us on a heading of two-three-five, Mister Maddison.”

“We’re not following them?” Graydon asked.

“Not right away. Keep them within sensor range. As they get toward the Gate, alter course to intercept.”

She spun the chair to face Berensen.

“If we make it too obvious, they may not take us where they want us to go.”

“Captain?”

“We’ve been hopping through the systems, looking for these aliens and suddenly there’s one of their ships? It just seems too convenient.”

“There’s little for anyone here. Either you’re buying from the Mining Syndicate or you’ve got no business here.

“You think they were waiting for us?”

Ivanova nodded.

“Coming aboard was just a sham, wouldn’t you agree?” she asked Graydon.

“They didn’t appear to have any real interest in being here,” Graydon confirmed.

“It wouldn’t have achieved anything,” Ivanova said.

“And they weren’t too happy about the Vorlon reference.”

“Vorlons?” Berensen asked.

“Voch’Kolan, they called them,” Ivanova explained. “Maybe they had a run in with the older races some time ago.”

“Or maybe they fought for the other side in the war,”

Graydon suggested.

Ivanova nodded. The Shadows may have left for the rim but they had left many of their helpers behind.

“So now what?” Berensen asked.

She watched the ship on the monitor.

“How long until the ship reaches the Jump Gate?”

“At its present speed, seven hours now,” Graydon said.

“We give it just enough of a head start so that we’re out of its sensor range. If it jumps to hyperspace, we follow.”

“And then what?”

“Then, we see where it lead us.”

“They’re running out of road,” Ivanova said to Graydon. They sat in the Mess, neither of them hardly touching their food. Instead, Ivanova pored over a portable display, examining the planets in the remaining systems of the neutral corridor. With Berensen extending his shift and Graydon coming off earlier than usual, there was time for everyone to get some rest before what lay ahead.

“The waiting game won’t continue for much longer,” Ivanova said. They both knew that service life was made up of the boredom of routine followed by punctuated bursts of action. The time for action would come soon enough.

Ivanova yawned and rubbed her eyes as the plates were being cleared away. When Graydon suggested that she get some sleep Ivanova didn’t argue.

Before turning in, Ivanova visited the bridge one last time. The watch shifts were changing over. Bernsen vacated her chair as she arrived. They stood before the main screen where the two officers stared at the two diverging symbols. Green for the Titans turning toward the mining colony, red for the Var Krelecz ship heading for the Jump Gate.

“The Var Krelecz has slowed its progress,” Berensen said.

“Perhaps it wants to make sure it doesn’t get too far ahead and lose us,” Ivanova replied. “Let me know if they deviate even slightly from their course.”

She looked at Berensen. For once even he seemed concerned. Turning to leave, Ivanova was surprised to see Breck still at his station, once again staring intently at his console.

“Lieutenant, you’re still here?” Ivanova asked as she leaned against the rail.

Breck’s head jerked up with a start. He had a hunted look on his face as if he had been caught red-handed.

“Captain,” he said breathlessly. “I was waiting up to se if there were any reports from the Alliance ambassadors.”

His fingers keyed a sequence on his console and Ivanova noticed a scrolling list on one of his screens blink off.

“And is there... anything from the alien ambassadors?”

Ivanova asked.

“They’re still taking their sweet time about it, which obviously means their governments have nothing out of the ordinary to report.”

“Otherwise they would be screaming for help by now.”

“Exactly. Except of course the Narn, but they seem to be taking the matter into their own hands.”

“That’s Narns for you,” Ivanova said.

“If you say so, Captain,” Breck said.

They stared at each other in silence, Ivanova interested in whatever Breck was hiding, Breck looking like he hoped that she would go away.

“After we got rid of the Shadowtech we were getting some interference on the gold channels. I just wanted to make sure everything had been sorted and we were ready.”

Ivanova did not buy his explanation for a minute. Rather than call him up on it, she simply looked him in the eye and nodded.

Heading back to her quarters, Ivanova turned and saw Breck lingering outside the bridge with the marines. He caught sight of Ivanova, looked as if there was something he wanted to discuss with her but unsure of how to broach the subject.

“Captain,” Graydon said, surprising Ivanova who quickly spun around to face her. “Still up and about?”

“I was just taking one last look at our friends’ position.”

Ivanova turned back toward the bridge and saw that Breck had gone.

“Call me the moment they stray from their course,” Ivanova said as she headed for her quarters.

Ivanova was woken by a burst of bright light that briefly washed over her. She sat up, bleary-eyed. Her hand brushed against the files she had been reviewing the night before and left on the bed. They slid off the bedspread as she shifted under the covers.

“Lights, dim” she ordered and the wall-mounted lights either side of the bed came to life. Ivanova glanced at the clock: 01:19. She had been asleep for less than two hours and wondered what had woken her up. She brushed an errant strand of hair from her face, looked around her quarters. Her jacket was slung across the back of the chair, her trousers lay in a heap on the floor beside her boots.

She brought her hand up to her mouth, to talk into the link but realised it had not been a voice that had woken her. There had been something else. Ivanova felt the same as she had back in the landing bay, realising something was not right, but not knowing what it was.

Ivanova shuffled the papers together and placed them on the shelf beside the bed. Reaching for the pages that had fallen onto the floor, she glanced at her trousers again. She had looked at them only moments ago. The difference now was the footprint pressed into the material. There was someone else in the room with her. Now she could feel its presence. Ivanova lunged out of bed. She reached to active her link but it was too late. It felt like hot needles stabbing into her jaw. The muscles in her cheek went into spasm as the bolts of energy jolted through her body. Her legs began to go numb but she remained upright. Something unseen was holding her up, gripping her tightly around the neck. As the next jolt of energy coursed through her the Var Krelecz ambassador appeared in the room before her.

The robe had been removed. She could see that the sash was missing too. Too late, Ivanova realised that instead of an envoy they had sent an assassin. She tried to grab at him but her arms twitched uncontrollably. There was a smell of burning flesh in her nostrils from where the link had shorted out and was melting into her hand. She could feel the heat from the metal threads covering his glove against the skin of her neck. The helmet moved in closer to her face as the Var Krelecz gripped her throat tighter. The glowing eyes widened, shifting from side to side as it closely examined her reaction to the jolts of pain. The layers of light flickered faster in an orgasmic rush. It was enjoying watching her suffer. The Var Krelecz spun around and shoved her hard against the wall. Ivanova knew she should have been dead by now. She looked at the glowing eyes as they narrowed. It was taunting her, studying her, gauging her pain threshold. It would keep her alive long enough to understand the limits of the human physiology. When it knew what it wanted she would die. By then Ivanova suspected she might welcome it.

She tried to claw at the alien but it casually slapped her arm away with the insulated gauntlet of its free hand before a further burst of energy wrenched her head back. As her body relaxed for the shock she looked around the room. She needed something to fight the alien with but most of her meagre belongings still remained in the storage containers. Then she saw it, the one thing she needed. Somehow she had to reach it.

With what strength she had left, Ivanova flung herself at the alien. She angled to the right, hoping the creature would use the momentum to deflect her, swinging her into the wall rather than expelling more effort to counter her offensive movement. If there was one weakness left to exploit it was the Var Krelecz’s overconfidence.

Ivanova was thrown to her right as planned. Her head cracked against the wall but she knew at that very moment that she wasn’t going to die.

Her hand grabbed for the small metal cylinder on the narrow shelf. It rested on a shallow polished mahogany stand, one she had had specially made the afternoon before leaving St. Petersburg for her appointment at Earthdome. A sudden burst of energy rippled through her arm. Her knuckles smacked against the cylinder, knocking it from its mount but she clamped her fingers tightly around the cold metal.

The glowing eyes swum to the left, growing brighter in intensity as they suddenly became interested in her acquisition. They glowed brighter as the alien sent another burst of energy coursed through her body. Ivanova felt the air jerk out of her lungs as her diaphragm contracted. As her arms jerked she cried out in rage as well as pain. A flick of her wrist activated the miniature air compressor that extended the Minbari fighting pike, the weapon of the Rangers, to its full fighting length. Two metres in length, one end of the pike snapped hard against the wall. The other end speared the alien. The energy suddenly dissipating and Ivanova felt her whole body relax. Too weak to stand, her legs gave out and she dropped to her knees. Her head cracked against the wall as she slumped to the floor. The alien towered over her. The glove that had closed tightly around her neck now hung at its side. The alien wavered then toppled over, landing hard beside her like a tree felled in the forest. The energy coursing around the glowing bowl gradually diminished after the metal pike had been driven right through the helmet. With the other end of the pike digging into the floor, the Var Krelecz’s head hung in the air, its neck awkwardly wrenched back from the limp body. Cracks appeared in the helmet as the energy slowly coursing around inside diminished and faded. Rolling onto her side, Ivanova pawed at the back of her hand, trying to activate her link that wasn’t there. In its place the flesh was seared and she scratched at the wound, unable to comprehend that the sliver of metal had been burnt from her skin.

“This is Ivanova to security,” she murmured to herself, “I need a detail in my quarters now.”

Almost immediately she heard a voice calling her name. It sounded muffled and indistinct, trying to rise over a dull throbbing beat that echoed around her skull. Her head wobbled as she looked around, sucking in her breath.

“And bring a doctor with you,” she added. Ivanova tried to push herself to her feet but her limbs felt spongy and unable to push themselves firmly off the floor. After a second attempt failed she lay on her side, sucking in deep breaths.

“Go ahead and let yourself in,” she said as her quarters grew darker around her.

TWENTY-EIGHT

The thumping ache in her head subsided. The voices that were once a jumble of noises finally became more clear.

“Pulse is weak and her breathing is shallow,” Ivanova heard.

She felt a thumb gently push her eyelid open, flinched as a glaring beam of light shone directly into her eye.

“Reflexes are good,” the voice said as she jerked her head away.

Gradually Ivanova opened her eyes. She was lying in a bed in the MedLab. Nurse Farber smiled down at her.

“Doctor Benton, your patient is awake,” she said. Ivanova remembered coming around briefly on the floor of her quarters. She had looked up to find a quartet of marines standing over her. Dressed in full body armour, with their helmet visors pulled down over their faces, they pointed their PPG

rifles toward her.

“How are you feeling?” Benton asked as he appeared at her side.

“I’ve felt better,” Ivanova croaked as she slowly sat up.

“Well, I should hope so,” Benton told her as he checked her pulse.

She tentatively touched the bandage that swaddled her neck.

“Your throat is going to be sore for a while. Keep the bandage on as long as you can. It would be better if you refrained from speaking for a while, although I can’t see that happening,” Benton said as he glanced at the monitors above her head. “By the way, who’s your friend?”

Ivanova looks puzzled until Benton moved aside and she saw the twisted body of the Var Krelecz emissary lying on the operating table in the Isolab. The fighting pike remained speared through the helmet, which had faded to a dull brown.

“It was a hell of a job getting him in through the door with that stick in his head.”

“Minbari fighting pike,” Ivanova said.

“Whatever you say.”

“So, how are my vitals?” she asked.

“You got pretty cooked,” Benton said.

“And that’s your expert opinion?”

“No, my expert opinion is, you’re damned lucky,” Benton replied.

Ivanova sat up. She was still wearing her silk pyjamas.

“After something like this, I’d prescribe a couple of days rest so we can observe you, but I doubt that’s going to happen.”

“You’ve got that part right,” Ivanova said. She instinctively reached to activate her link but found her right hand covered in a gel salve.

“You’re going to need a new one once the skin is healed. Maybe you should let someone else deal with your calls today,”

Benton said.

Ivanova glared at him. She swung her legs off the bed and managed to stand up. The floor was cold. She hopped on her bare feet until Nurse Farber handed her a pair of hospital slippers.

“And I said no visitors, but who the hell listens to me anyway,” Benton said.

Ivanova looked up and saw Berensen waiting by the door.

“Commander,” Ivanova said, drawing his attention away from the alien body.

“So, that’s the Var Krelecz,” Berensen said.

“Tricky big bugger,” Ivanova nodded, her voice cracking.

“It had some kind of personal cloaking device Her arms ached as she tried to pull on a robe Nurse Farber had found for her and Berensen stepped forward to help her put it on. Ivanova sat back down on the bed and reached for a glass of water to sooth her dry throat.

“What’s our status?”

“Two marines are dead. They were guarding the landing bay and failed to check in. Captain Dorland found them. They looked like they had been electrocuted.”

“That would have been about right. The alien had some kind of personal cloaking device, so he could have gotten past anyone on its way to me.”

“It blew out a bulkhead on Corridor D. The fragments of the device it used are being analysed.”

“Any particular target?” Ivanova asked. Berensen shook his head.

“It just seemed to be a diversion. Damage was minimal. The rest of the ship is being checked. Graydon tried to contact you but got no response so she sent a tactical team into your quarters. Found you and our friend over there.”

“I think we can assume it’s not my friend. What about the alien ship?”

“It took off and made a run for the Jump Gate.”

“How long ago?” Ivanova asked.

“Two hours. We formed a jump point and are following it through hyperspace. I took the liberty of informing the Narns.”

“That’s good,” Ivanova said as she stood up.

“How are you?”

“She needs to be kept in for observation,” Benton called out.

“Not listening to him,” she said as they passed through the open doorway.

Ivanova left Berensen at the door to her quarters.

“I’m not sure this is the appropriate dress, I’ll be along in a minute,” Ivanova said. “And I need a new link.”

Her quarters were in disarray. There was a stain on the carpet from whatever had seeped out of the alien’s helmet after it was skewered by the pike.

Ivanova washed her face at the sink. She ran a hand through her hair and brushed away the tiny lumps of shrivelled and burnt hair that were stuck between her fingers. She carefully peeled away the bandage and examined the ugly red welts that ran under her chin and down the side of her neck.

“Thank you, Marcus,” she whispered her herself. This was the second time he had saved her life. They had found a space onboard Babylon 5 and he had happily shown her a few basic moves. It was nothing too fancy for a beginner, but enough for her to get the job done.

“Grip it firmly,” he had told her once she had the shortened pike in her hand. She had burst into fits of laughter. She remembered he blushed.

“If you’re not going to take this seriously,” he had admonished her. She had collected herself and apologises. Standing there, she was trying to wipe the smile of her face. Marcus held his arm about, his hand gripping and imaginary pike.

“Give it a firm shake, but don’t tug it,” he instructed. She collapsed into fits of laughter again.

“I’m sorry,” she said, tears running down her face. He threatened to walk out again, but she begged him to stay. Once she had got over the giggles, she had the technique down and swung it back and forth, parrying.

Ivanova finished buttoning her jacket as she stepped out into the corridor. She was surprised to see Lieutenant Breck standing outside. He clutched a file to his chest, looking around warily as if he was concerned anyone would see him there.

“Lieutenant,” Ivanova said. She started toward the bridge then stopped when she saw that he was still rooted to the spot.

“Do you want to see me?” Ivanova asked.

Breck opened his mouth to speak but them looked back up and down the corridor, unsure of whether this was the ideal place to talk.

“Make your mind up because now really isn’t a good time,”

she said.

“It’s important,” he told her.

Ivanova sighed as she walked back to the door of her quarters.

“All right. Inside,” she ordered as the hatch slid open and she stepped back to allow Breck in first.

“I think we have a problem,” Breck said.

“With Lieutenant Commander Graydon?”

Breck looked surprised by her suggestion. He shook his head

“No, sir. No. At least I don’t think so.”

“It seems to me that the two of you haven’t exactly been seeing eye to eye recently.”

It had become obvious to Ivanova that the two officers had not been on the best of terms of late. She had tried to remember when it first started. Exercising in the gym Breck would disappear once Graydon arrived and neither of them seemed to eat at the same time in the Officers Mess. On more than one occasion Ivanova had noticed the Lieutenant quickly finish his meal and take off as soon as his senior officer sat down at the table. The one time she commented on this, after Breck had almost bowled over one of the serving staff as he hurried out of the room, Graydon casually glanced over her shoulder and said “I think we received more reports from the Interstellar Alliance Ambassadors detailing recent incursions across their borders.” It was becoming the standard excuse both of them were using to fob her off and Ivanova was not going to take it any more.

“So what’s the problem?”

Breck gingerly peeled the report away from his chest and looked down at it. Just as Ivanova thought he was about to hand it over he wrapped his arms back around it to and began pacing around the room.

“Time is a factor here Lieutenant. If there is something you have to get off your chest, I suggest you do it now.”

Breck stopped still and took a deep breath.

“Since we left the shipyard I’ve been getting odd readings on the com system. To begin with I wasn’t sure what it was so I ran diagnostic tests but they came up empty. And then, when everything started playing up, I thought it was the Shadowtech technology playing tricks with me. But after we left Babylon 5 it continued to happen.”

“What happened?”

“I continued to pick up faint echoes of unauthorised transmissions off this ship. I mean, before I thought the channels were simply shifting out of phase. But after Babylon 5 I recognised that they were actual transmissions.”

“Have you been able to isolate the com-stations being used to send the messages?”

“Not so far. It’s even possible that they were using a portable to patch into the system. Which at a stretch could be used from a Starfury flying in close proximity,” Breck explained.

“So it could be anyone amongst the crew?” Ivanova said, thinking out loud.

“That’s what I thought at first, but after Babylon 5 it became clear that these were priority communications, which only senior officers have access to.”

“Gold Channel?” Ivanova replied and Breck nodded.

“Obviously someone else could have been granted access. But they’d have to have been logged in initially. And there’s no evidence of that happening since the ship was launched.”

“Then what about before?” she asked. “Before the system went online?”

“Already fed straight into the mainframe software? It’s more than possible,” Breck agreed. “Sort of covert operation, standard issue.”

“A hangover from the old EarthGov regime, maybe. Like whoever installed the Shadowtech but just a different department.” Ivanova suggested.

“Neither of them knowing about the other.”

“It’s not a regular, scheduled occurrence, so it’s not like they are sending standard updates. I mean they could have buried those in the crew’s outgoing vid-mails.”

“Instead it’s something important enough to risk sending immediately. Are they getting a reply?”

“Not that I can gather. At least not for every one. When the signal bounces back its usually within an hour.”

Much to Ivanova’s relief, Breck finally handed over the file. She flipped open the cover and scanned down the pages.

“This starts practically from the commencement of the training mission,” she said, astonished.

”To begin with the times are pretty irregular.”

“That’s the trouble with covert operations, they never operate to a set timetable,” Ivanova observed.

“I suppose you’re right,” Breck agreed. “But soon a pattern starts to emerge.”

He stood beside Ivanova and pointed out the times listed on the page.

“Transmission times vary between seven and eighteen hours after the event, but these were sent not long after we discovered this Shadowtech, discovered the convoy debris and the alien fighter, and came into contact with the Narn warship. After first contact we had two more transmissions in rapid succession, and then a final one only an hour ago.”

“And the two in between?” Ivanova asked.

“Heading to, and then leaving, Babylon 5.”

Ivanova sighed as she looked up from the report. Breck waited patiently with a look of abject defeat on his face.

“So who do you suspect?”

Breck shook his head.

“I’ve checked the duty rosters against the times of transmission. Not everyone can be accounted for some of the time. But no one was off duty during all the outgoing transmissions. They could have put a time delay on the outgoing message, but...”

“They need to get the information out immediately and get a response,” Ivanova agreed. “What about Graydon?”

“She was on the bridge for--"

“No,” Ivanova interrupted him, “I mean why the sudden antagonism between you two?”

“She discovered what was happening. The Lieutenant Commander suspected you and thought I was dragging my feet in identifying you as the culprit.”

“Me? Well, I suppose that makes sense.” Ivanova said.

“You’ve tried everything to track down the source?”

“Every trick I know,” Breck explained with a hangdog expression. “Whatever’s being used to camouflage the point of origin, its cutting edge technology I’m not privy to.”

He shook his head.

“So what do we do next?” Breck asked Ivanova.

“We keep this to ourselves,” she told him. “I want you to put in a call to Babylon 5.”

Breck visibly perked up at the mention of the station. His posture straightened as he listening intently.

“You need to speak to President Sheridan’s head of covert intelligence, a man named Michael Garibaldi.” Ivanova continued.

“Tell him Duck Dodgers has gone south for the winter.”

“And he’ll know what that means?” Breck asked.

“I sincerely hope not,” Ivanova confided with a smile.

“Explain to him there’s a party you have to urgently attend and you need an icebreaker to get you in on the conversation.”

“An icebreaker,” Breck repeated, trying to hide his confusion.

“He’ll know what you mean. And you’ll understand when it arrives,” Ivanova reassured him. “Then you can go to work.”

Breck nodded and turned to go. Ivanova keyed open the hatch.

“And Lieutenant Breck,” she said as they stepped into the corridor. “Contact him right now. And let me know the next time this happens.”

TWENTY-NINE

One of the ship’s maintenance crew was waiting on the bridge to fit her with a new link. Graydon smiled when she saw Ivanova return to the bridge.

“Captain,” Graydon said.

Ivanova nodded as she sank down into her chair. One of the ship’s maintenance crew was standing to attention, waiting for her. As he fitted her with a new link, bonding it to her skin using the molecular adhesive keyed to her own DNA sequence, Ivanova looked over at Graydon.

There was a spy in their midst, reporting back to EarthForce. Graydon may have suspected Ivanova, and as an outsider coming in to take over the ship, she was the obvious suspect. Ivanova could vouch for herself, but could Graydon she wondered. What if it had been an act, haranguing Breck to deflect the suspicion away from her? If it was one of the officers, whom else did they have working for them?

“All done,” the maintenance crewman said. Out of instinct, Ivanova looked at her right hand, then quickly switched to her left where the thin square of metal was bonded to the back of her hand.

“Okay, that’s going to take some getting used to,” Ivanova smiled, looking up at Berensen beside her. The crewman saluted and left the bridge.

“What’s the situation?” Ivanova asked, turning her attention to the screen.

“The Var Krelecz ship is ahead of us, on course for the Mitoc System. It’s making good speed but still making sure that it’s within our sensor range,” Berensen said.

“How far before it reaches the Jump Gate beacon?”

“Just under two hours at present speed.”

“Good,” Ivanova said, “That gives us enough time.”

She carefully rubbed her neck and looked at the screen.

“At least we know why they came aboard,” Graydon said. Ivanova nodded.

“And there’s one more thing. We were contacted by Warleader Ke’Tal,” Graydon added. “The Narn are on their way.”

In their locker rooms the Starfury pilots were calmly changing into their flight suits.

“How long before we know?” Rowland asked Ivanova. He held his helmet in his left hand and absently drummed his fingers against the visor.

“Soon. They’ve been leading us along so much. This must be where it ends. I don’t know how many we’ll be facing.”

“More than attacked Babylon 5?” Oliver asked.

“It’s likely,” she replied.

Rowland nodded, grim-faced.

“That’s good odds,” Oliver smiled.

Before they walked towards the launch bay, Ivanova looked back at pilots Tolly and Kutzov who were checking the seals on each other’s environment suits. She had been introduced to them briefly during the tour the Titans. Tolly was from Moscow. Kutzov came from Tula, south of the city. Once they were satisfied that all the seals were fastened they picked up their helmets and knocked their fists together.

“Stalingrad!” they murmured in unison and nodded.

They turned to the fighter bays and saw Ivanova lingering by the hatch, saluting curtly as they stepped past her and headed to their Starfuries.

Ivanova remembered hearing at the Academy how, in the last days of the Earth-Minbari War, before taking off to join the ranks of the ships that would take part in the Battle of the Line, Russian pilots would salute each other is such manner. It was not meant as an act of bravado or an idle boast. Their faces would be dour as only a Russian’s could be. Many knew that they would not be coming back. But like the Battle of Stalingrad centuries ago, they would not give up. It would be hard and it would be bloody. It was accepted that they were the last line of defence to halt the invading Minbari fleet that had swept through the solar system, but they would not surrender their homeland or their home planet without a fight. Jeffrey Sinclair had once told her that his family had been fighter pilots since the Battle of Britain. Looking back over the photo albums with Rabbi Koslov, Ivanova had discovered that a very distant relative had been a tank commander at the Battle of Kursk, almost three hundred and twenty years ago.

Ever the historian, Koslov had explained that although it was one of the shortest battles, the engagement at Kursk was still considered to be largest tank battle in history.

“Of course, warfare is different now,” he told her as they pored over the photographs.

“It was the summer of 1943,” he said, pronouncing the date very carefully. “The Nazis had unleashed their Blitzkrieg on the Soviet Red Army and nearly made it all the way to Moscow. But our infamous Russian winter set in. It had stopped the little Frenchman and would do the same again.

“The Nazi lost two-thirds of their tanks within the first five days. By the time it was over, our victory marked the end of Germany’s offensive during the Great Patriotic War.”

Koslov tapped the photograph with his finger. The woman was short and squat, dressed in a uniform that was tight around her. Her hair was tied up in a bun and even in the faded monochrome picture the rows of medals appeared to gleam on her chest.

“So there you go,” Koslov said. “Anna Spetzroyka. Her husband was a printer in Yaroslavl. Not born to fight, but there when her country needed her.”

He shook his head and chuckled to himself.

“Somewhere there may even be a picture of her smiling.”

“I want all my pilots back,” Ivanova told Oliver as she watched the pilots being secured into their fighter cockpits and running through the pre-flight check.

“Yes sir,” he saluted.

Ivanova returned the salute.

Toward the back of the hanger Rowland was climbing up the ladder into the cockpit of his Thunderbolt Starfury.

The marines made a hole for Ivanova as she made her way to the bridge. They were dressed in full body armour, passing around assault rifles and heavy PPGs as they lowered the visors on their helmets and stood ready.

While they helped defend the ship from any enemy incursion, the Titans, Ivanova had decided would go on the offensive. With the Mitoc System devoid of life, it was an obvious staging post for the Var Krelecz. Ivanova had cursed herself for not seeing this sooner but the steps they had taken to get here had proved that the race was hostile and could not be reasoned with. It was better to have learnt that now, before it was too late.

Ivanova had hurriedly convened a tactical briefing in the time they had left. While none of them knew for certain what lay waiting for them once they dropped back to normal space, the obvious answer was the remains of the Var Krelecz attack fleet. How large it was remained to be seen.

The Starfury squadrons would launch before they left hyperspace and follow them through the jump point, sticking close to the Titans. The ship would lead the assault. Depending on how far the Var Krelecz fleet was spread out in space, two of the three wings of the standard Aurora-class Starfuries would take on the enemy fighters. The remaining seven ships would stay in reserve until called upon. Staying close to the Titans, they

would also help the gunners destroy any breaching pods before they locked on to the hull.

The Thunderbolt fighter-bombers would divide up and attack the outer edges of the Var Krelecz fleet. Titans would go straight down the middle.

Ivanova took her seat on the bridge and listened as all sections of the ship reported in prior to the combat lockdown.

“The alien ship has activated the Jump Gate to the Mitoc System,” Berensen announced.

On the screen Ivanova watched a small oval of yellow light blaze in the red sky of hyperspace.

“Launch Starfuries,” Ivanova commanded. “Bring the jump engines on line.”

She had considered destroying the Jump Gate once it was activated but knew there would be hell to pay, as its destruction would affect the whole network.

On the smaller screens she watched as the Starfuries raced out of the Titans, accelerating hard as they manoeuvred out around the ship before dropping back to take up position behind the large missile launchers.

“Alpha Squadron in position,” she heard Oliver say over the intercom.

“Beta Squadron in position,” Rowland said.

“Weapons systems?” Ivanova asked.

“Particle beams on line,” Graydon announced. “All missiles ready to launch.”

Ivanova had chosen not to follow the Var Krelecz through the Jump Gate. The alien force could be waiting for her on the other side. Alternatively, they could have blown the gate as the Titans was coming through.

“Anyone want to be there when that happens?” she had asked in the briefing, looking at their faces. “Didn’t think so.”

Tactically she needed to have some distance between them and the expected fleet. The missile launchers on either side of the ship had been loaded with high yield multi-megaton warheads and she needed the longer range.

“Activate Jump Engines,” Ivanova ordered.

“Jump Engines activated, aye,” Berensen said.

“Let’s see what’s waiting for us out there,” Ivanova said as the yellow and white energy filled the monitor ahead of her.

“How many can there be?” Graydon asked as the Titans accelerated through the jump point.