Work Text:
The sight was enough to make even the most even-tempered pacifist violently angry, and Susan Ivanova wasn't among the most even-tempered, nor was she much of a pacifist. It was disgusting what some rulers would do to their own people, and while she could certainly believe it (Earth's history, after all, was riddled with human rights abuses), it didn't make it any easier to witness first hand.
From her vantage point at the entrance of the loading dock, she could see most of the two thousand Rigellian refugees who were loitering near their battered ship, unsure of where to go and struggling to even stay on their feet in Io's low gravity. The floor was slicked with the blue blood of the injured, and the low-level anxious murmur of voices was frequently punctured by louder cries of pain, fear, and grief. Their ship — already in poor shape when it had departed the Rigel system some four weeks earlier — had been attacked by pirates on the final leg of their journey, and had barely held together long enough to get them through the jump gate. Without the intervention of the star furies of Bravo Wing, it wouldn't have. Sheridan had wanted to bring the refugees onto the station, where he had more control and where the artificial gravity more closely simulated the Rigellians' home planet, but Station Io couldn't have accommodated half their numbers, and he was forced to redirect them to the moon below.
Ivanova fought to control her impotent fury as she wove through the uneasy crowd. In their eyes she could see not only the residual terror inspired by the pirates' attack, but also the deeper uncertainty of what would happen to them now, the aimlessness of having nowhere to go, and she quietly seethed at the tyrants who had put them in this position. One would think that by the time a civilization had advanced enough to travel through the stars, they would have advanced enough to have their shit together back home. But Earth had disproven that theory time and time again, and it seemed as though intolerance toward certain factions of one's own species was a universal affliction. These refugees were guilty of nothing more than following a different creed than the majority, and for that they had been driven nearly a thousand light years away from their home, praying that another race would be more accepting of them than their own.
She sidestepped out of the path of a rushing medic on his way to one of the more critically injured refugees, and in the process she almost collided with the colony's resident telepath, Justin Maley. The presence of Psi Corps only drove her anger up even further. The last thing these people needed was some мудак poking through their heartbreak looking for soundbites. As she shoved past him without a word, she was proud of the restraint she showed in not tearing his throat out.
"Lieutenant Ivanova!" The voice was Maley's, so Ivanova pretended not to hear him — it was plausible enough in the chaos — and managed to escape the loading dock. She had to find Sheridan anyway; he was coming down from the station for a meeting with the Rigellian leader and the colony government to discuss the situation and plan a course of action, and it was a good excuse to get away.
She met the Commander in the corridor outside the bay where his shuttle docked, and they fell in step on their way to the small conference room where the meeting was being held. She steered him toward the stairs instead of the lift — she still had a serious amount of pent up anger and she was hoping the extra exercise would help burn it off.
"What's their story?" Sheridan asked as he followed her into the stairwell.
"Running from persecution," she replied. "Apparently their new president is something of an intolerant fascist."
"He's a democratically elected leader," Sheridan countered.
"That doesn't meant stupid people can't elect a nightmare, sir." The anger wasn't really dissipating. Climbing two flights of stairs on a moon with 16% of Earth's gravity didn't require nearly enough physical effort. What she really needed was a ten mile run along the outer hull of the station, or maybe an hour of beating the shit out of a punching bag. Or a member of Psi Corps. She wasn't picky. "Besides," she added, "as the saying goes, 'Those who vote decide nothing. Those who count the votes decide everything.'"
"You're quoting Lenin at me?"
"Stalin, actually."
He gave her what she was starting to think of as the patented John Sheridan Look.
"What? I'm Russian. We have a long and storied history with fascist dictators." They reached their floor and turned down a hallway. "And with helping other countries' fascist dictators rise to power."
Sheridan let out a breath that was half laugh, half sigh, and shook his head. When they arrived at the conference room, he opened the door and held it, waving an 'after you' gesture to Ivanova.
As soon as she stepped into the room, Ivanova froze with a new surge of fury. Maley was already in the room with the Rigellian leader, and had evidently taken it upon himself to start without them. Ivanova had never seen a Rigellian before, but some body language was universal, and the seated refugee was cowering away from Maley, dejection and hopelessness written all over her reptilian features. Maley, meanwhile, was standing over the alien, arms folded across his chest, intransigent look on his face. "I'm sorry," he was saying, not sounding sorry at all. "You must understand our position."
Ivanova broke her paralysis and moved further into the room, intending to show Maley her position by putting his head through the wall. But before she made it more than two steps, a hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm. Not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to remind her not to do anything stupid. She had almost forgotten that Sheridan was behind her.
"Seems we're a bit late to the party," Sheridan said, releasing his grip on her arm but moving to stand between her and Maley. His tone was light, and Ivanova doubted Maley or the alien could hear the coldness underlying it. As she got to know him better, she was coming to learn that despite his cheerful exterior, John Sheridan was a man you did not want to cross. "What 'position' is that, exactly?"
"Ah, Commander," Maley said. "I was just explaining to this… fellow here that they'll need to be moving along as soon as possible."
"Isn't that a bit premature?"
"It was premature to allow them to land in the first place," Maley retorted. "Now we need to move fast to keep things from getting out of hand."
"They were being attacked!" Ivanova's fists were clenched at her sides, itching to swing. She had to remind herself that this wasn't a playground in Russia and this bully had powerful protection.
Sheridan held up a placating hand in Ivanova's direction, but kept his attention on Maley. "If you're worried about shortages, I've already got word to—"
"I'm worried about crime," Maley said. "Theft. Violence. Rioting. You haven't heard the thoughts of some of these lawless—"
"Why have you?" Ivanova interrupted. "Who authorized you to scan these people?"
"They're not human," Maley said. "Nor are they a race that we have diplomatic relations with."
"That doesn't give you the right to go—"
"Refugees have no rights," Maley spat. "And I wasn't scanning them. I can't help it if I overhear a violent thought or two when they're shouting them at me." He gestured at the Rigellian leader. "You can't trust these things. Their thoughts reveal what they truly are."
"And how many of those thoughts have you manipulated and taken out of context to make your case?" Sheridan asked.
In the one tiny corner of her mind that wasn't consumed by rage, Ivanova felt a surge of gratitude toward her CO. It was a relief, if not a surprise, to know he was on her side with this. "These people are hurt and scared and have nowhere to go," she said. "I think they can be forgiven for not projecting sunshine and rainbows at the man trying to make their situation worse."
"When I want the opinion of a pilot—" The contempt Maley managed to pack into such an innocuous word was impressive. "—I'll ask for it. In the meantime, I've put in a request for the Marines to send in forces that will remove them forcibly if they won't leave voluntarily."
"On whose authority?" Ivanova was shaking, and not entirely sure she wasn't about to spontaneously combust. She hoped that, if she did, she was close enough to Maley to take him out with her.
"You forget your place, Lieutenant," Maley growled. "Station personnel have no jurisdiction here on the colony. I don't care who you are or what your rank is," he added with a glare at Sheridan. "This decision is not yours to make."
"This has nothing to do with jurisdiction," Ivanova cried. "This is about innocent lives."
And that was when she felt it. Later, she would doubt that he did it on purpose — emotions were running so high in the room that it was likely an autonomic response. But in the moment, she didn't give a damn about the why — all conscious thought left her at the first faint twinge in her mind that told her he was scanning her. She didn't stop to think, didn't stop to consider that her commanding officer was standing two feet away, didn't stop to weigh the consequences. She just reacted. She was on Maley in three steps, his lapels clutched in an iron grip, and she bulldozed him toward the outer wall. Maley and Sheridan were both shouting as she took advantage of Io's low gravity to lift him off his feet and shove him out the open window.
Maley's terrified yell faded as Ivanova rested her hands on the window sill, head hanging between them and eyes closed, fighting to get her breathing under control. She heard a splash from below and had the ridiculous urge to laugh. A few moments later, there was more sloshing of water and Maley's indignant shouts drifted unintelligibly up into the conference room.
It was only when Maley's voice was muted by the closing doors of the building as he was escorted inside that the full impact of what she'd just done hit her. Sheridan may have been on her side a few minutes ago, but even if he personally approved of her outburst (and she doubted he would), there was no way he could let it slide without some sort of disciplinary action. And she couldn't fully defend herself — couldn't explain how she knew Maley was trying to scan her, or what she feared he would find if he succeeded. She wondered if she'd be dishonorably discharged, sent home in disgrace, letting her brother down and proving her father right. The silence of the room pressed on her like a weight.
Sheridan was the first to recover. "Maley will be back soon," he said. "And I bet he'll have reinforcements. I don't think you want to be here when they arrive. Go back to the station; I'll take care of this."
His tone was flat, and revealed nothing of his state of mind. Ivanova fixed her expression into one of resolve, then turned around. "Sir, I'm prepared to face the consequences for my actions."
"I'm sure you are, Lieutenant," Sheridan said. "And don't think I'm letting you off the hook by sending you back. There will be consequences, but those consequences will be discipline, not vengeance. Now go on."
"Yes sir." Sheridan had already turned his attention back to the Rigellian refugee, and he seemed to have in the situation in hand. She took a circuitous route back to the docks to avoid any encounters with Maley, climbed into her star fury, and flew herself back to the station. The rest of her wing was loitering on the flight deck waiting for her, and they plied her with questions she was in no way prepared to answer. She wasn't even sure they would still be her wingmates in the morning, and that wasn't something she was ready to discuss with them at the moment. She evaded their questions and made her way to her quarters. Once there, she wore tracks into the floor with anxious pacing. She tried to read but couldn't focus; tried to eat but couldn't stomach the thought of food. Eventually she climbed into bed, but what little sleep she managed was fitful and uneasy.
It was several hours later that Sheridan finally summoned her. She went to his office with trepidation. She had known joining Earth Force was a risk. Had known that a military career would mean she would have occasional contact with telepaths. She had just hoped she would last a little longer than this before she had to choose between exposure and prison.
"Take a seat, Susan," Sheridan said as soon as she entered.
какать. He only called her Susan when they were off duty. So this was it, then. As full of nervous energy as she was, she couldn't bear the thought of sitting, and didn't see the point anyway — it was over, and she didn't think hearing him spell it out for her was going to make it any easier. But she didn't have the fortitude to argue, and dropped herself into the nearest chair.
"Justin Maley is calling for your immediate dismissal."
Sure enough, hearing it didn't make it easier. Her heart constricted. "Yes, sir," she said, too upset to be ashamed at the tremor in her voice.
"So I reminded Maley about what he said about jurisdiction — that if I have no jurisdiction over the colony, surely the colony has no jurisdiction over my people."
Lost in a haze of despondency, she didn't immediately process what he was saying. "I'll start packing my… Sir?"
Sheridan stood up and began pacing behind his desk. "Officially, I can't condone your actions toward an upstanding member of the Psi Corps," he said. "But unofficially? Damn if it didn't feel good to see that little weasel take a nose-dive out that window." To Ivanova's astonishment, Sheridan was actually smiling.
"So… I'm not being discharged?" She realized she wasn't breathing. She hardly dared to hope, and yet…
"No."
Her breath left her lungs in a rush, and she raised her hands to her face, palms pressed together as if in prayer. In fact, that wasn't a bad idea — she sent a quick 'thank you' Heaven-ward before dropping her hands back into her lap.
"I spoke to Colonel Hague and explained the situation," Sheridan continued. His face grew serious. "It took some convincing, but he agreed to a two week unpaid suspension, twelve months probation, and you're to be removed from command of Bravo Wing."
Ivanova kept her face neutral, determined not to let her disappointment show. If they'd been on Earth, where a three-story drop would likely be fatal, she'd be facing a murder charge; if suspension, probation, and demotion were the worst punishments she would have to endure, she would count herself damn lucky. But even so… This was her first position of command, and she had lasted all of two months. She couldn't help but feel that it didn't bode well for the rest of her career. At least you have a 'rest of your career,' she reminded herself. "Yes sir." This time, she made sure her voice was steady. "I understand. Will I still be flying with Bravo Wing?" Or at all? she added mentally.
Sheridan stopped pacing and turned to face her. She wondered if she was imagining it, but he seemed to be fighting a smile. "Hague only said that you were to be removed from command of Bravo Wing. He didn't say anything about the others."
"Sir?" Ivanova could barely believe what she was hearing. He couldn't mean…
"After your suspension, you'll take command of Zeta Wing. I've taken the liberty of transferring all of your pilots as well."
She jumped to her feet. "Sir, you can't do that. They'll never let you get away with it." She was grateful for the gesture, more than he could ever understand, but there was no way a move like that wouldn't be seen as an act of defiance to his superiors. As badly as she wanted it, she couldn't allow her commander, her friend, to commit career suicide over her mistake.
"You'd be surprised what I can get away with." He started pacing again, fidgeting hands clasped behind his back. "Protecting the downtrodden, looking out for the weak and the vulnerable… those are attitudes we need to encourage, not punish. We can't go throwing everyone who disagrees with us out of windows, but there's a balance to be found, and I have faith that you'll find it. I trust there won't ever be a repeat of yesterday's performance?"
"No, sir," she said quickly.
"Good." Sheridan's face softened, and he returned to his seat, leaning forward and resting his arms on his desk. Ivanova sat back down as well. "You're a good officer, Lieutenant. One of the best of your age I've ever seen. I'm the one who told you that stoicism was overrated, and if your reaction was a bit extreme, at least your heart was in the right place. Just keep that temper under control, and you'll have a long and… interesting career." He sat back and his demeanor shifted to all business. "You've got a hearing in two days where all of this will become official. But I wanted to fill you in as soon as I could. Would've been sooner, but I had a refugee crisis to attend to colony-side."
"What's going to happen to them, sir?" She was almost afraid to ask.
"For now, they'll stay on Io. Their ship, banged up as it is, wouldn't even get them as far as Mars, and no one else has got room for two thousand passengers. I called in for extra food and supplies before they came through the jump gate — it'll keep them fed for a few weeks, at least. After that… I'm not sure yet. We don't have the resources to keep them here indefinitely, but we sure as hell can't send them home to be killed. Maybe some other colony, one that would feel a bit more like home and does have the resources to provide for them. They said they don't mind honest work."
"There are plenty of Earth colonies that could use the extra hands, but…" She trailed off. Friends they may be, and he may have forgiven her lapse down on the colony, but he was still her commanding officer, and still a representative of the Earth Alliance, and she was already on thin ice.
"But what?"
She hesitated. "Permission to speak freely?"
"Since when have you asked permission to say anything?"
Since she found herself facing a disciplinary hearing for defenestrating a telepath. "I'm trying to get better, sir."
"Well, don't. I promoted you to wing commander because I admired the way you think. I'm keeping you there because I still do. So tell me what's on your mind."
"Well, sir, Earth doesn't exactly treat its human colonists all that well, so I'm not sure how well a crew of Rigellian refugees would fare. It might be almost as bad as the planet they left behind."
"You're not wrong," Sheridan said with a sigh. "We'll have to see how it goes. I've got some contacts in diplomatic circles, and I'm working on getting an ambassador out to the Rigel system. If we can't do anything about their new president, at least we'll have someone on the inside who can let us know when it's safe for the refugees to go home."
"And if it never is?"
He gave her the Look again. "Sometimes I forget how depressing you can be. Thanks for reminding me." The playful sarcasm was back in his voice, and for a moment, Ivanova forgot about her pending hearing and two-week suspension. It was good to feel normal again.
"Anytime, Commander." Taking herself to be dismissed, she rose and headed for the door.
"Hey Susan?"
She spun around. "Yes, sir?"
"Off the record… Down in that conference room… Why did you attack Maley? Really?"
She gave a slight shrug. "I don't like telepaths. And I was angry."
For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue, like he could sense that she wasn't telling him everything. To her relief, however, he didn't push. "You know you can talk to me any time, right?"
Not about this. "I know, sir. Thank you."
He clearly hoped she would indulge him right then, but she just returned his gaze levelly, until finally he turned his attention back to his paperwork. "Good. Well, good night, Lieutenant."
"It's 0600, sir."
"Smartass."
She smiled as she turned and headed back to her quarters.