‘Was this done on some station?’ asked the Armourer. ‘Records show he resupplied at the far end of the Arm and at several mining complexes in the Quadrant.’
‘Maybe some of the components came from there, but the work looks like his, his and the repair system’s that is. See these tap welds, those would be his, fixing the connection in place. The fine weld is from the repair unit going over it. Nice quick way to modify, actually.’
Lammas ran his hand through his hair, reminding Trahern of Tollen.
‘We bumped up the repair system. Added sensors and programs so it could carry out preventative maintenance. Fix thinning plates, replace parts, that sort of thing.’ He indicated the new connections. ‘Once these were in, it would maintain them, possibly improve them. I don’t know how smart this thing is now.’ He tapped the back of the chair. ‘Looks like it recognised the pilot as hardware.’
‘Don’t give it too much credit. I believe the drive came from the scout. The purpose here was his,’ said Trahern. ‘But then, smarter than a pilot is not an unachievable level for a tool.’
The Armourer laughed. Lammas seem confused. ‘It’s a joke. Probably his first in nine years, so don’t mind him,’ the Armourer explained. ‘Okay, let’s work out exactly what we want to do here and how we are going to do it. Our main problem is time.’
‘We need to connect the craft’s sensors here to the scout’s mind in Med,’ said Trahern. ‘The Weave equipment can do that but it has to be restricted. Unmodified, he would be able to light up half the systems on Base, maybe the satellites. In the mental state he is in, who knows what would happen?’ He paused, contemplating the probable chaos.
‘Fix the frequency and limit the range,’ offered the Armourer.
‘The signal would have to be able to get through everything between here and Med or go out to the atmosphere or the satellites and back. That’s too strong. We’d have to check everything in that zone to make sure nothing critical was using the same frequency. It would take too long.’
‘Hardwire it,’ said the young Blue. ‘A single cable from here to Med.’
‘How much time?’ asked Trahern.
‘As fast as we could run it out, if we have to. But I'm sure Services could do it neater and quicker.’
‘Fine, a Weave band on the scout, transmitter and receiver removed, those functions straight into the cable,’ summed up Trahern. ‘And on this end?’
‘We need to connect to the helmet somehow,’ said Lammas.
‘If it is all hardwired, why not leave the Weave gear out. Put the helmet on the scout and connect back here to the sensors,’ suggested the Armourer.
‘I think he is too far gone physically now to use the helmet,’ said Trahern. ‘And I bet some of the input will be coming through that chair also.’
‘Either way, we would still have a problem at this end. I don’t think I could disconnect all of these and reconnect to the cable in the time we have,’ said Lammas. He turned the helmet so they could see the mass of fine wiring entering the back. ‘The chair is probably more difficult.’
Damn, there must be a way! thought Trahern. A pattern flared in his mind, braided light that slowly resolved into wires and crystals.
‘Another Weave band in here,’ he said. ‘Hardwired to the one on the scout, it would be like a single unit. Set the transmit/receive field to one metre only, to take in the chair and helmet, nothing else. It would read these sensors. It’s designed to override whatever converters are in place.’
‘That could work,’ said the Armourer. ‘And it will be quick to set up.’ He turned to the Blue. ‘You look a little worried, Lammas. What’s your concern?’
The young Blue tapped his thighs and glanced about. ‘The repair system could get into it. If the field gets expanded we would be back with our earlier problem, everything at Base fired up by a madman.’
A good mind there, thought Trahern. He’s ahead of us already.
‘We only turn on the sensors. The rest of the ship’s systems stay off,’ said the Armourer. ‘We don’t want this craft to fly away either.’ He set his eyes on Trahern. ‘We don’t use the craft’s power so we avoid any failsafes. Make sure the sensors are isolated and power them and the band with a limited source. A battery. What do you think?’
‘Change the hardware in the band so the max is one metre, manually shut down the repair system and the risk is minimal,’ offered Trahern. Both he and the Armourer waited for the Blue’s judgment.
‘Well, the Commander will be pleased,’ said Lammas.
Quartermaine! Damn. He hadn’t thought about clearing this with the Commander. He doubted Aesca would have either.
The Armourer read Trahern's silence. ‘No matter. We do the scout’s band first. I'll take it to Med and have Quartermaine meet me there. You two modify the second band, isolate the sensor system and disable the rest of the ship’s systems. When you are sure that has been done, set up the power source. I'll have Services start on the cable immediately. If Quartermaine says no, we will have only wasted our time. If yes, we hook up.’
CHAPTER 18: BRIODI’S TEARS
Briodi could not believe it. It was the morning all over again. Her notebooks were scattered on the desk and the screens were on. There was movement at the end of the room where she had sat with Trahern. They will not get away with it this time! She hit the alarm button on the wall panel as she entered the room then turned to face the end shouting. ‘You were told to leave. Now, get out!’
The mixture of hate and condescension in the eyes was the same, but the colours of cloth were wrong, blue and green, not black. It was Colda. Oh no. Don’t back down. Stay determined, she warned herself.
He ignored her and advanced, a promise in his smile. Why does it work for Aesca, but not for me? she entreated. She raised her arm, pointing at him, about to try again, when two security men piled into the room. They spun Colda and wrenched his arms up behind his back.
‘Out of Med?’ asked one of the guards. At her nod, they turned him and started from the room, their grip on his elbows almost lifting him clear of the floor. His odd appearance, shoulders and head thrust forward and eyes wide with shock, caused her to laugh in her near hysteria. He went into a wild rage, screaming and struggling. A buzz and a blue flash from the corridor followed by the sound of receding footsteps told her that they had slapped a light stun on him.
She stood long into the silence then finally shook herself. Work. Forget this and do some work. You came here to work until the scout was ready, so do something.
She sorted her notebooks, selecting her current one and the record copy. Most psychs persevered in their use of paper. Machine records could be accessed too easily; only basic information was listed there. Confidential details and comments were kept in a personal notebook that stayed with the psych. On assignments, a second book was prepared containing lists of appointments with brief notations that could be of use to succeeding duty personnel. Briodi started on this routine task to allow her mind to settle.
She paused after recording a summary of Donen’s interview and adding an understated comment on the other caretakers’ actions. Perhaps she misread their intent. Maybe it was hostility directed to females in general. Not something sexual and sadistic aimed at her alone. She decided to talk with Celene before acting on it.
Her other concern she could deal with. She flipped forward until she found her record of the caretakers’ first interviews. She had done them all over two days near the beginning of her assignment at Med. ‘Too long exposed to the Box?’ had been her comment. Could that have been at the start of their tour? Something is not right. Donen had been hesitant about his timing.
The previous duty psych’s record book had been mixed in with her notebooks on the desk. She opened it and searched to find mention of the caretakers. They were listed, all the same names and a similar comment to her own. Excited, she went to the shelves and pulled out the notebook from two tours past. The same names! That duty required rotation. Th
ere is a problem here. I was right!
Briodi returned to the desk to interrogate official records on the screen. These showed different names on previous tours of duty. Think about this. Who do you trust? The psychs would not make a mistake.
Someone was falsifying records to keep these men at the Box. I must tell Celene. She searched for her comm. Not in her pocket or on the desk. Must have left it upstairs, she thought. She slid her chair back and along the wall to the comm panel.
Celene’s comm was still on standby. Briodi stopped. To alter the official records would require access from Command. Someone from Command is protecting the caretakers! She couldn’t leave this message for Celene. It could be monitored. But signing off again would be suspicious. Trahern. A message about Trahern would not be out of place. ‘Celene, the interview with Trahern went well. He spoke about the subject in question. It will help with the scout, or at least we hope so. We will know soon.’ She cast about for more to say. Her notes were scant. The Grey had been minding her more than the other way around. Suits and ships. He had spoken of being in a suit in the deep. What a horrifying thought, only a suit between you and the void. ‘He was not always in his craft.’ The light from an incoming call interrupted her. The scout, they must be ready! She snapped off the call to Celene and opened the other. Aesca’s calm voice asked her to come up. She ran for the stairs. Excitement and hope surged in her. I don’t have the control of Aesca or Celene, she admitted ruefully. Maybe it’s my fate to run the corridors with tears in my eyes.
CHAPTER 19: TRAGEDY
The corridors were quiet. It was late into the evening meal period and most people were in the mess halls or had already retired to their rooms. Celene hurried to Med.
She had been late to the mess herself. Determined to complete the task of reviewing all psych evals for Quartermaine, she had spent the day sequestered in records. Finally emerging, she had checked her comm to find numerous calls banked. The two from Briodi were alarming, no message on the first, and a bombshell about Trahern on the second. He had not been in his craft the whole time of his journey in the deep! But it was the distress in Briodi's voice that worried her most. Fear. There was fear behind the calm words. What had she learned about Trahern to cause that?
Briodi had not been waiting for her in the Number 7 Mess as she had hoped, but the clowning around going on there alerted her to the other development of the day. It held no humour for her. Learning of Colda’s ejection from Med, she had immediately gone to the marines’ table. Thrown out twice, the second time with force. On Aesca’s order. Colda would not be able to stand that. Mancine and Tollen were not there but her friend from Debrief, Spence, was. ‘Find Mancine and tell him to stay by Aesca’s side until I say otherwise. Her life is in danger. Get someone with her while you are looking for him. Let only those you know approach, faces not uniforms,’ she warned. If Colda could commandeer his aide’s help on this, his retribution could be devious.
She had left before he could answer, her concern for Aesca somehow increasing her anxiety about Briodi. Her attempts to contact the young psych furthered it. Neither Briodi’s personal comm nor the one in the psych room at Med would answer. Celene refrained from calling Aesca. The marines would be in contact and she did not want to complicate that communication. Instead she had headed for Med. They both might be with the scout, she thought.
Her hurried steps brought her to the open door of the scout’s room. Quartermaine sat beside the bed, talking softly to the sheeted figure. Celene leaned her head in to check the room. No one else was present. Quiet as she was, Quartermaine became aware of her and looked up.
‘I am searching for Aesca and Briodi,’ said Celene.
‘Both left not long ago, half an hour or so, but separately,’ answered the Commander. He motioned to the man in the bed. ‘I’m afraid I was too caught up here to keep track of their destinations.’ He waited for her to explain.
‘You heard of Colda’s ejection from this section?’ she asked.
‘Aesca advised me. Forcibly ejected. I support her action. It’s her section.’
‘Stunned and frog-marched all the way to Command. It’s being pantomimed in all the messes but one at this very moment,’ said Celene. ‘It is too much provocation. He could kill her for this.’
‘Call Security,’ returned Quartermaine.
‘I’ve sent the marines, surer and more effective. Mancine can stay in her company twenty-four hours a day without raising speculation. The other marines will support him.’ She did not need to voice her concern that Colda may already have people in Security. Quartermaine understood that sort of thing almost instinctively.
‘And Briodi?’ questioned Quartermaine. ‘She did a tremendous job here today. She got through to Trahern to get this solution.’ Again he motioned to the bed, to his peaceful scout. ‘But it has not been without cost. There were tears in her eyes every time I saw her today. Her attachments are even greater than Aesca’s. I thought you psychs stayed impartial.’
‘It is considered the wisest course, but that is in the interest of the counsellor not the counselled.’ Celene returned to his first question. ‘Briodi left me a startling message concerning Trahern. It seems he was not always in his craft when he was missing. She did not say if she knew where or with who he was.’ She watched him closely for a reaction, that he showed none convinced her that he had already considered the possibilities.
‘Briodi may be with Trahern now,’ said Quartermaine. ‘He is in the single hangar. I asked that it be manned until this is resolved.’ Quartermaine flicked his comm open and called. ‘Commander Trahern, is Specialist Briodi with you?’ He paused for an answer Celene could not hear then went on. ‘She may be on her way. If she arrives please ask her to remain.’ At a nod from Celene he added, ‘Specialist Celene will be there soon to meet her.’ Another pause. ‘Fine, he’s doing fine, a few words now. He seems at ease. I thank you for your part in this Commander. He is my scout. I feel his pain almost as much as the young psych. Please call if she arrives. That’s all.’
Returning his gaze to her he said, ‘She is a singular woman, your Briodi, but you may have to rest her after this.’
‘You trust Trahern?’ asked Celene, not willing to let Quartermaine pass the issue.
‘You are not the only one to have qualms,’ he answered. ‘The Armourer made sure I knew we were outfitting an unmanned ship with our Weave technology when we did this. Unsaid was that Trahern could easily take the craft to the deep.’ Quartermaine paused to study her face. ‘But in him, as in you, I do not detect a wish to confine the Grey. You defer your judgments.’ The stocky commander stood and started pacing. ‘The Armourer will wait for an action that he can only interpret one way. But you, Celene, I expected to push this question of loyalties. Why have you not?’ He stopped to study her again.
Her admiration for this tough old man increased. He is aware of us all. His instincts are good. My secret is not for him but I will give him a true answer. ‘Whatever other allegiances he carries are of no matter as long as the Guard comes first.’
‘The problem with that is we will not know until the time comes,’ said Quartermaine. ‘It is possible even he would not know until then.’
Celene sensed a warning in that comment. She did not want to dare the probing of his intuition any longer. ‘I best find Briodi. If she has gained Trahern’s confidence then perhaps we can solve this dilemma.’ She moved to the door. Quartermaine returned to his chair by the bed. ‘Will you be here long?’ she asked.
‘I will stay the night. Call when you reach the Grey. You –.’ A murmur from the bed interrupted whatever the Commander was going to say next.
‘The Ships answer the call. The call of the Greys.’
Celene tilted her head with one eyebrow raised and waited for Quartermaine to explain. When it was clear that he was not going to comment she left.
*
Quartermaine sat quietly for some time. The scout continued to mutter, occasional snatches of
words making little sense. He was immeasurably better than the morning, however. He had improved almost immediately after the Weave band was put in place. Aesca wanted his face clear so they had cut the array back to a simple band, eliminating the drape that would normally cover the nose and cheeks. The multitudinous fine muscles of the face with their nerve pathways were the ideal interface for the Weave technology but a meld to a single craft required few connections. As it was, the band still carried hundreds of times the capacity needed for this use.
They had congratulated themselves on their success, the young psych almost collapsing in relief. But a restlessness set in and grew over the next half hour until the scout was tossing again.
‘What’s wrong? Has it broken? Why has it stopped working?’ entreated Briodi, tears in her eyes again.
The answer had come to Quartermaine. Lucky he was there, for he was one of the few that knew what was felt in a Weave and also knew the history of the hangar. ‘That hangar is shielded. We’ve given him back his senses but put him in a box.’ He had called the hangar then. Trahern and a Blue, Lammas, were standing by. ‘Open the hangar doors and push the craft forward so that the nose is out.’ The Armourer had nearly had a fit at that, but Quartermaine ignored it. ‘Once he can feel the stars he will be all right,’ he told Briodi.
And he was right. The scout had settled, at ease through the rest of the day. Quartermaine had sat beside him and talked quietly, his words sometimes triggering a response. This was how they communicated. What was important would get through.
‘Did you just give us our answer, old friend?’ asked Quartermaine finally. He thought not. There had been no alarm or warning in those words of Ships and Greys. If anything, there was pride. Something else I don’t understand. But he had learned not to force interpretations. The meaning would come to him in time.
Something niggled at him, something unfinished with Celene. He ran back through their conversation in his mind. She had not forced out his judgment on Trahern. But she knew him well enough to know there would be no hesitation between decision and action on his part. Trahern had his trust, plain and simple. Since the Box. No, it’s something else.
The Return of the Grey Page 13