The Return of the Grey

by Robert Lee Henry

  What else haven’t I told her? There was one area he had shied away from. It bore on him as well as Trahern. He did not believe that the Grey was untouched by his trials. Trahern could not be whole. Not because of the deep as the psychs worried. You survived or not there. But from the Weave. There was no scientific explanation for it, but he knew that his mind had expanded into the Weave back at the battle for the Passages, and as linked craft were destroyed, so were parts of his being. It must be the same for Trahern. A hundred eyes put out, a hundred hands cut off, still leave you with the two you started with, but you know the others are gone. This was not madness, although he had never mentioned it because others might think so. It was an effect of battle, like all other battle injuries, physical or mental. It was a scar he and Trahern carried that linked them like no one else. Perhaps I should tell Celene, he thought, before Trahern and I die, so the Guard will know.

  He remembered then what he had meant to tell Celene, to get a bodyguard of her own. As he pulled out his comm it flashed in alarm.

  ‘SECURITY! SECURITY!’ screamed a voice. ‘Help! Someone’s been killed. Murder, there’s been murder! It’s terrible. There’s blood all over!’

  Quartermaine over-road the comm, at the same time opening it to all of Base. No secrets now, he determined. ‘Quartermaine here. Identify yourself.’

  ‘Steamsetter, Services, Sir.’

  ‘Where are you? Give me designation code also.’

  ‘Through storage, Sir. East end, near the doors. Near Med. Um, 1SCr …1SCr13. Aahh, this is bad.’

  Quartermaine was out the door, on his way, comm in hand.

  ‘Security, got that?’ Green lights on his comm told him they had. ‘Security, block all corridors and access for one hundred metres. No one in or out except on my command. Do not approach the scene,’ he ordered. In a gentler voice he spoke to the serviceman. ‘Steamsetter, how many victims, and are you sure they are dead?’

  ‘Only one, Sir, but there is blood everywhere,’ he groaned.

  ‘Check for a pulse,’ ordered Quartermaine.

  ‘She’s dead, Sir. I … I can see her heart. Aaghh.’

  ‘Her?’ Quartermaine queried.

  ‘I can see a breast, Sir. She’s massacred and there’s blood everywhere.’

  ‘What are her colours, son?’

  ‘The blood. I can’t tell. Someone get here!’

  ‘Steamsetter, take charge of that site. No one touches anything. If anyone gets by Security tell them to stop away from the blood. You stay right where you are standing. I’ll be there in five. Security, got that?’

  CHAPTER 20: A TERRIBLE SIGHT

  Quartermaine arrived at the site in less than five minutes. He passed no one in the corridors. He found Steamsetter standing in front of a crumpled figure. Two others in the maroon of Security lay in front of him again. Blood was splashed on the walls and pooled on the floor, almost to the back of the serviceman’s boots. The metallic tang of it filled the air. The serviceman held a wrench in his hand and lifted his arm threateningly. He let it fall when he recognised the Commander.

  ‘Sorry Sir, but they wouldn’t stop,’ said the big man. ‘I told them to stop, but they tried to push in. One went to touch her, Sir.’

  ‘That’s fine, Steamsetter,’ said Quartermaine, lifting an arm to the serviceman’s shoulder. ‘You are under my orders. Stay by my side. Maintain your guard.’ He turned and crouched to survey the scene. That the woman was dead was clear. Great rents had been cut into her body and her heart was not the only organ visible. He marked no pulse or flow of blood, no tremor of muscle or roil of viscera. Massacred was right. But he knew her.

  He stood and flicked his comm. ‘Security, Captain Karron is at the scene with me. Whoever is next in command, take over. Seal those corridors as directed. When that is done, come through and bring four men with you to take Karron and one other man to Med. From there, they go to the Brig until they can explain why they did not follow my orders.

  ‘All Commanders and Service heads proceed to Security points in the corridors surrounding this site. I will call you in as required.’ Quartermaine took a deep breath.

  ‘All duty psychs report to this site. Med, have a recovery team stand by. Specialists Nata, Armourer, Celene, and Aesca from Med proceed directly to this site. The rest of Base stand down. You will be advised.’ He closed his comm and sank to his knees. Briodi.

  The tears were in his eyes this time.

  *

  It was a strange sight that greeted Celene’s arrival. A big serviceman stood protectively above the kneeling Base Commander, one hand on Quartermaine’s shoulder, the other holding a wrench like a mace. Two security personnel in front of them were struggling to their knees. Behind these figures there was blood everywhere.

  Celene had been half-way to the hangars when the call burst through. She had run all the way back and was out of breath. A Security team thundered to a stop behind her. Quartermaine rose and turned to them, iron in his eyes. There’s hell to pay now, thought Celene.

  ‘These two to Med,’ said the leader of the Security team, coming around her. Celene agreed with his order. They can check them out later. Best just get them out of Quartermaine’s sight now.

  The Base Commander stepped to the side. Celene saw the body. Oh Stars! It’s Briodi! Her legs collapsed with the shock. Quartermaine and the serviceman caught her and gently lowered her to her knees. Oh, the wounds are terrible. Who could do that? To Briodi. She momentarily lost the ability to think. Her stomach spasmed. Quartermaine swung her around unceremoniously and released her to sprawl on the corridor floor. Thought returned. Don’t get sick on the evidence. More people were arriving now but she did not have the strength to look up.

  A buzz and a blue flash came from down one of the side corridors. ‘What was that?’ demanded Quartermaine.

  The Security leader tilted his head up. He wore a headpiece comm. ‘The Grey, Sir.’ He listened a moment. ‘He was coming fast and he didn’t look like he was going to stop, so they stunned him from a distance, Sir.’

  ‘What about the other Grey?’ asked Quartermaine.

  ‘Only one, Sir.’

  ‘Celene, get up there before Gati turns up and kills someone. Bring Trahern in.’

  His command got her to her feet and moving. She could not have done it herself.

  CHAPTER 21: LOWER LEVEL AT MED

  The young psych’s body lay on a steel table with a slightly raised edge and a discrete drain on the inside. Similar tables were evenly spaced along the centre of the long, well lit room. The others were not occupied. White tile and shiny steel, the room seemed antiseptic and inhospitable. Inhospitable in the hospital, what a poor choice of words, thought Nata. It was the first time Nata had been in a setting like this and he was apprehensive. That he was in charge of this examination also did not help.

  Aesca moved with ease, completing the redressing of the body, the act involving handling of tissue and compressing the wounds. Nata wondered at her control. But this is part of her domain, he told himself, and the human body has little mystery to her. The medic brushed hair back off the girl’s face and stepped away from the table. The last touch had been like that of a mother with a child. It is her caring that allows her to act so, he realised. Not routine.

  Elsewise nudged him with his staff. Nata almost regretted giving his friend that long stave. Rather than carrying it like a weapon, the Scholar had adopted it as a tool of exposition, a pointer, or as in this case, an instigator of action.

  Inured to combat as he was, Nata had still been as shocked as the others by the killing. He had thought his presence at the site was required to offer expert advice on physical aspects, possible actions and blows involved in the attack. He was surprised when the Commander had named him to investigate. An objection from the head of Security, Gardle, had been beaten down in fury by Quartermaine.

  ‘Security is meant to prevent this happening! Do you think this will stop because the blood is drying here? You are
meant to keep Base secure. You will be too busy insuring this cannot happen again to investigate. Every dark corner will be patrolled. Every cry will be answered. A failed comm or dim light will have one of your people on site in seconds. Start now!’

  Nata had not called Quartermaine to this morning meeting. The Base Commander had been given another task. Specialist Celene, the Armourer and Aesca were his experts for this study. Start with what the scene and body tell, had been the Scholar’s advice. The two of them had spent most of the night in the bloody corridor. This step of cleaning and dressing the body had also been Elsewise’s suggestion, to contemplate the action without the blood. He should be doing this. He is imminently qualified. Or someone from Command, or the Armourer. Nata recognised these thoughts for what they were, stalling. Come, you must start.

  ‘Doctor, please describe the wounds.’

  Aesca moved back to the table, standing near the head. The Armourer shifted to the foot. Celene did not approach, staying by the wall, close to Elsewise.

  ‘Two of the blows were mortal, death within seconds. This to the cranium,’ Aesca pointed, ‘and this strike to the left side of the chest. The others would cause death if unattended. Bleeding from the wounds indicates that the series of blows was rapid. None were post mortem. A sharp slightly curved blade-like implement was used. All of the blows were powerful. These three,’ she indicated the wounds to the skull, left chest and pelvis, ‘exceedingly so. They have all cleaved bone. Whoever did this is very strong.’

  ‘Any idea of order?’ asked the Armourer.

  ‘None of the large cuts meet, but here on the right arm there are slashes. Possibly defensive cuts. These cross.’ Aesca lifted the arm to show the Armourer. ‘They suggest the arm was down, to be cut by the stroke above the hip then rose to try to ward off the blow to the right shoulder.’ She lay the arm down carefully and moved her hand to the head. ‘Her head was tilted forward or perhaps she was falling forward, when this blow struck. I believe it was the last.’

  ‘So, you see her as upright to receive a series of blows,’ said Nata.

  ‘That would agree with the site,’ said the Armourer cutting in. ‘Most of the wounds cross the whole body, back to front. There are no marks on the corridor floor. The tool would have had to scrape if she was lying down. The splash marks indicate that the body was slammed about by each blow, possibly steadied in between. Standing to start, for the blow to the pelvis, then probably to her knees.’

  ‘And the weapon?’ Nata asked.

  ‘A slightly curved blade, heavy, with weight behind the tip, like an armour hook, or maybe a pole arm. With the leverage of a pole, not as much strength is required. A slight person could do this.’ The Armourer addressed Aesca. ‘Can you make casts of the impressions?’

  Celene came off the wall at that question. To make casts would require all the flesh to be stripped from the bones. Nata was sure that the Senior Psych would object. He was saved from a confrontation by the medic’s reply.

  ‘That won’t be necessary. We can make models from the scans.’ To Nata, she said, ‘We ran full scans and took tissue samples during the night. Before we cleaned her.’ Aesca paused to look down on the girl. ‘That data should encompass all our needs. I would release her to her service now, for whatever ceremony they see fit.’

  The Scholar’s staff swung out behind Celene. Yes, I know, grumbled Nata in his mind. But this will be hard.

  ‘Specialist. Tell us what you see in this act,’ he asked.

  ‘There is the appearance of frenzy and powerful emotion.’ Celene’s voice was level, the tone matter of fact. ‘Two of the blows show extreme hatred for women.’ She moved to the table and placed her hand on the wound between Briodi’s legs. ‘This bisects her genitals, penetrating and obliterating in the one stroke.’ She removed her hand and walked to the head of the table. ‘Notice how the strike to the right shoulder hits squarely on top, angling in, but evenly from front to back. On the left side, the blow has been pulled forward and curved down and out across the chest. It is of such power that it opened the ribcage up completely, exposing the heart. But I believe it was dragged, perhaps subconsciously, in an attempt to sever the breast.’ She traced the outline of the wound with a fingertip. As the body was now, clean and pressed back to original form, the curve around the breast was clear.

  In his mind, Nata placed the figure before him, upright in the corridor. He ran the strikes through in different series. A pole arm would be too slow for the two fatal blows, which must have come close together. Maybe more than one weapon or more than one killer.

  Celene continued. ‘She knew her attacker or attackers. All the blows were to her front. She faced her death. Possibly to reason or delay.’

  ‘You said there was the ‘appearance of frenzy’. Why did you phrase it like that?’ asked Nata.

  ‘The deed could have been carried out cold-bloodedly, mimicking the actions of the disturbed to divert suspicion.’ Celene challenged him with a stare. ‘Do you want to name suspects now? I will give you two.’

  ‘No. Hold your thoughts on that. Quartermaine is checking movements. When we have those, we will proceed with possibilities. Please, everyone look one last time at the body.’

  Nata moved close to the table himself, fumbling with a pad and pen given to him by Elsewise at the start of their survey of the bloody corridor the previous night. ‘These accessories are built into my breed, tabla rasa ad infinitum, so to speak, but you will have to compliment your scholarship with the old tools. This pad and pen is like the staff you have given me, as that extends my reach and increases leverage, so will this extend your memory and heighten observation.’

  ‘So, you are training me now. I don’t remember making this arrangement,’ he had grumbled. ‘You did not so easily accept my guidance.’

  ‘If it is a contract you seek then I will enter into one with you,’ his friend had answered. ‘I will persevere with the staff under your tutelage, and in return, you will allow me to instruct you in the ways of scholarship. I have the better of this bargain for you show great promise in the field of reasoning, while I have demonstrated little aptitude for martial skills on your sandy roof.’

  The latter was not quite true. Although in a very studied way, the Scholar had become quite adept at limiting movement around him with the staff, a defence of sorts. For his part, Nata was delighted with the offer. He would not show this of course. In addition to his natural reticence, there were the circumstances of the opportunity. Elsewise appreciated the situation.

  ‘Your study is a cruel one. Time is limited and more lives may be at risk. But it is resolvable. I will advise and assist.’ These last words had been the same Elsewise had given Quartermaine at the murder site.

  ‘Anything missing?’ asked Celene of Aesca.

  The question brought Nata back to the present moment.

  ‘Even the smallest piece of skin or hair, especially anything evident of her sex.’

  ‘All her organs are present, both sides of wounds match and the skin is complete,’ said the doctor. ‘It is possible hair was cut and removed, but I can say none was pulled out. Her clothing is complete also.’

  ‘Her comm and notebook are missing,’ said Celene, turning to Nata. ‘I checked the psych room and her accommodation.’

  Her tone remained level but Nata detected an edge. The investigation was his responsibility, by Quartermaine’s order. All of the others knew to stay clear. However, the victim was one of her people and the Specialist may have put her in the position that led to this end. Nata understood Celene’s defiance and knew that it would continue. With my blessing, as long as you can be kept safe.

  ‘The comm panel in the psych room and the panel at the end of the lower corridor were not functioning. Some of the lights in the corridor were out. All of this indicates planning,’ stated Celene.

  ‘So, evidence of premeditation and no trophies. Does this rule out mental deviation,’ asked the Armourer.

  ‘No,’ answered t
he Specialist. ‘A deranged mind is capable of this preparation. It may be a necessary part of the experience, a prelude almost as enjoyable as the final act.’

  That she could consider this event, so immediately intimate to her, through the mind of the killer, at this time, evidenced a will so strong it chilled Nata. Looking up from his notebook he met Elsewise’s eyes. They seemed to share his thought.

  A knock at the door drew everyone’s attention. The room was silent until Nata realised that they were waiting for him to respond.

  ‘Come in,’ he said.

  *

  They all look tired, thought Quartermaine as he entered the post mortem room. I will have to make them stand down soon. He knew that they would resist, trying to delay the quiet time when they would have no task to divert them from the emotional response to this death.

  He had forced himself to sleep in the night, taking turns with Steamsetter, three hours each, with the other on guard, like some ground scout on the Rim. That feeling stayed with him. He was at war now. The enemy had taken two of his people and he didn't know what he faced.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt.’ He nodded a general greeting to them all. ‘I have your information now, Nata, and I have to move on to other tasks.’

  ‘Proceed, if you will, Commander,’ said Nata. ‘We are ready.’

  ‘Trahern advises that he was in the single hangar from midday until he heard the alarm. Lammas was with him up to the evening meal period. I called Trahern shortly after from Med in response to the Specialist’s query. He answered as if he was in the hangar but that can’t be confirmed; he was alone and the call was via his personal comm. We don’t have a firm fix on him until his interception by Security, after the killing.’ Quartermaine walked as he talked, arcing around the table with its sad display.