The Return of the Grey

by Robert Lee Henry

  Thomas threw his hammer down. ‘Don’t you think that I have had enough of weapons?’ He pulled the collar of his shirt out to his shoulder to bare his pebbled skin. ‘Don’t you think that I have paid enough?’

  ‘No,’ said Quartermaine.

  They stood that way for a while, the two old men.

  ‘The Guard has call on our lives. That’s the deal,’ said Quartermaine. ‘Suffering buys you nothing.’ He walked past Thomas to lay the hammer on the bench then kept going toward the door.

  ‘I will be there this afternoon,’ said Thomas to his back. ‘To see how the Blue left it. But no personnel, heh. Not for another day. Until I get myself sorted.’

  *

  Quartermaine wandered the hangars, in no mood to return to Command. The hangars were quiet with most of the fleet out. Only the main bay was busy. A transport was coming in from the Rim. Med teams were waiting with trolleys. Supply had a back load of containers ready. To one side was a stack of black boxes. Temporary coffins. Will we send as many of them as we send personnel? He turned and walked away from the scene below.

  His steps took him to the single hangar, to his scout’s ship. Perhaps we should let him die. Take all the pain away then let him pass quietly. Mercy. Aesca had raised it but he couldn’t do it. Not yet.

  Thanks to Briodi, the mental anguish was gone. But the scout’s body was failing and that gave pain. Soon the level of medication needed to control it would overwhelm his senses and his connection to the world would be lost. Then Aesca will come for me or throw the switch herself.

  Quartermaine entered the ship. The strangeness of the modifications caught him again, as if for the first time. It was Lammas that usually checked the Weave gear and sensors. He, himself, had not been in the craft since the day they hooked the scout up. My job now. Should have been all along. He settled to the task, running his fingers along wires, testing connections, checking for light from the diodes put in to mark current, the last made difficult by the late afternoon sun flooding in through the ports from the open hangar doors. He had to cup his hand over the diodes and bend in close. His eyes were not what they used to be. He took special care around the pilot’s chair where the fine crystals from the Weave gear had grown out in a delicate tracery that ran over the backrest and the arms. Only part of the seat was bare. Painfully bare. It drew his mind. Seemed incomplete. He should be here, that’s what it is. Free to fire up and head for the stars. Not lying in a bed fading away.

  The scout didn’t talk anymore, not a word, not a murmur. Too late. There was something that he wanted to tell me. Something that brought him all the way back in. Now I will never know. His eyes followed the intricate whorls and pathways formed by the wires and crystals. As the outside light faded, the tracery seemed to come to life, the light of the diodes reflecting off nearby surfaces, appearing to run in the wires, waxing and waning as the sensors fed in data. It is alive. He is more here than there already.

  And with that Quartermaine knew of a way to make contact.

  CHAPTER 51: A MARINE KISS

  Seca rolled her chair down the corridor behind the Specialist and the Doctor. Far enough back that the two wouldn’t notice her. She didn’t really want to have anything more to do with them than was necessary. But Nata had asked, and she was bored, dead bored.

  Her legs were fine. She didn’t need the chair. The bones were stronger than ever. That’s what the Doctor had said. Only the muscle on the outside to come back to strength. I couldn’t have lost that much tone over a few weeks. Well a month or so, she admitted. Anyway, it hadn’t been long. She had taken the short option, in more ways than one.

  ‘We can replace the bone that you have ground away. I can take pieces from your pelvis and place them in the gaps. New growth will bind them in and you will retain your height. However, that will take time. There is some new tissue there already. That will have to be removed along with any fragments that remain. Then there will be time in traction.’ The way the doctor had said it told her there was another choice.

  ‘Or?’ she had asked.

  ‘Or we can leave things as they are. The bones are healing well. We can accelerate that. There doesn’t seem to be any significant nerve or tissue damage. It will leave you with a lump on each leg but the bone will be strong, probably stronger than before. However, your legs will be one to two centimetres shorter.’

  ‘And the time?’

  ‘Less than a month if we leave them as they are. The bones will be healed before then but the muscles will need time to adjust. Replacement will take longer, perhaps two months.’

  It was an easy decision. She needed to get back to the Rim. It had barely started up there when she had copped it and she had heard that it had gotten worse.

  She had to give it to the Doc. She had done a good job on her legs. But that was all she would give her. She didn’t know how Mike could put up with the woman, let alone develop an affection. Sure, she had curves. The best shape on Base if you listened to the idiots in the ward. Full tits and a round arse. But, hell, that was not all that made a woman. If you were trained to be strong and fast, you didn’t have those curves. What do they want next to them? A pillow or a strong right arm?

  The two women ahead of her turned into a room. Seca rolled past a minute later. The door had been left open. Good. She took Nata’s request seriously.

  The Blue’s room. She could see him beyond the backs of the others, lying on the bed, enough tubes, wires and patches stuck to him to build a spaceship. They didn’t know what it was yet, but whatever it was, he had it bad. He couldn’t last more than twenty minutes now without freezing. Normal, then boom, gone. And it didn’t look easy like the other patient. That one just stared into space, like he had slipped into a daydream. Hell, she knew marines that were like that most of the time. This one though, it hit him hard. Spasms, clenched jaw, tremors, convulsions. Like he was fighting himself. It had them all frightened, all the marines. They didn’t mind getting hit by something they knew. But this?

  Seca made three passes up and down the corridor. This would be better on my feet, get my legs ready. I need more time than the bit they give me in physio. There had been a transport in from the Rim the other day. She wasn’t ready for that one but she didn’t want to miss the next. A little extra work would be good. But the Doc would skin her if she caught her on her feet. Probably put her back in traction to teach her a lesson. They weren’t getting on so well lately. Angry all the time. Again she wondered what Mike saw in the woman. Maybe men like to be bossed. Maybe I should try that.

  She was passing the door for the forth time when it happened. At the shout, she spun her wheels to swing back. The Specialist came out the doorway on her back, on the floor, kicking and sliding. The Blue came after her, in a lunge, hands out like claws.

  Seca dove out of the chair and slammed her forearm into his head, driving it against the doorframe. They dropped to the floor together, onto the psych’s legs.

  He wasn’t moving. Seca looked at her arm. She didn’t think that she had hit him that hard.

  ‘He was already tranqued,’ said Aesca from above them.

  ‘Fine. Then it didn’t hurt him,’ said Seca. She stood and stepped out of the way so that the doctor could get to the Blue. Damn, it feels good to be on my feet. She gave the Specialist a hand up.

  ‘You have broken his cheekbone. I suspect concussion also. Lucky there is not more damage,’ said the doctor.

  Seca shrugged. Lucky it was me that hit him. The strike that the Specialist had on the way would have driven his nasal bone into his brain. Even you couldn’t have fixed that.

  CHAPTER 52: IDENTITIES REVEALED

  Celene had seen it form in his eyes. That is what gave her the chance to drop out from under his first strike. A swirl of warring emotions suddenly coalescing to murderous intent. The cables and tubes from the monitors and support equipment jerked him up on his next lunge and she was able to kick back out the door. His momentum tore him free and he came on. She th
ought Aesca might have got a hand to him as he went by. The marine’s contribution allowed her to pull up her own strike. That was close.

  Aesca thought that this aberration had a physical cause. Celene disagreed. Probably psychological, she had thought on hearing of the behaviour, the ‘symptoms’. Now she was sure. She had seen reason of a sort, and purpose, in his eyes. I need time to think this through, in a safe place.

  Aesca was busy with her patient. Celene signalled her intent to leave to one of the assisting med techs. She stepped back to find the marine that had aided her waiting in a wheelchair. That had seemed strange until she recognised her as Seca. ‘Where will I be safe? I need to think.’

  Seca pointed with her thumb back up the ward. Celene nodded and they headed off. The corridor was busy now, full of aides and security personnel, and people poking heads out of doors to see what had happened.

  She would have liked to call for Nata but she knew he would not be welcome in the doctor’s domain so soon after this incident. The marines would have to do.

  She followed Seca into a large ward room. Marines in the beds quieted as they passed. Seca led her to a desk in the corner fitted with a comm panel and screen, then rolled her chair to a nearby bed. Celene sat as Seca rose. The marine did not move onto the bed. Instead she started to pace across the angle of the corner, a slow patrol of only a few steps, then a turn. Celene nodded up to her then turned her thoughts inward.

  More marines entered the room. Their boisterous conversation flowed around her.

  ‘Hey! Guess what? We heard the Blue had a go at someone.’

  ‘Yah. The crazy bastard tried to get the Specialist.’

  ‘Where’s Seca? Hey, they said you slammed him.’

  The talk was free. Obviously they hadn’t noticed her yet, tucked in the corner.

  ‘Aesca too. She slapped a tranque on him, like she did to Nata that time in Mike’s room.’

  ‘She’s fast you know, for a woman that looks like that,’ said one of the men from the beds.

  ‘Moves well. I wouldn’t mind her looking after me,’ said another.

  ‘She does look after you. That’s her job, you idiots,’ cut in Seca.

  ‘Yah, well, there was more work for her after you got finished. She wasn’t too happy about that. What did you do to him?’

  ‘I gave him a marine kiss, with this.’ She tapped her elbow.

  ‘Did he turn into a frog,’ called a marine from across the room.

  ‘I’ll turn you into a frog,’ threatened Seca.

  ‘No thanks. I’m saving myself, Squad leader.’

  The laughter broke the conversation up into smaller lots.

  ‘You don’t look bad back on your pins, Seca.’

  ‘Thanks Rom.’

  ‘How do they feel?’

  ‘Good. The muscles are a little tight. And a bit weak. But they will be fine soon. I missed the last transport. I’m not going to miss another.’

  ‘I hear that it is going better up there,’ said Rom. ‘Near constant fighting but we are holding them. They say that the Armourer has them worked out. The enemy are copping it now.’

  ‘About time. We sure needed a break. There seem to be a hell of a lot of them,’ said a man from a nearby bed.

  ‘I hope that it lasts long enough for me to get back there,’ said another. ‘Not so that it is hard on the fellas in the meantime, I mean, but I sure want to get back to my squad.’

  ‘Oh, I think there will be time,’ said Rom. ‘They don’t say that it is ending, only that it is going better for us. Mad Mike is doing well and Spence has been bumped up. They have been leading the quick movements, all the flanking. Haven’t let the enemy get by yet. Almost gives us a full complement of sergeants. If they manage to stay alive things will get better yet. You get a better feel for what you are doing with a sergeant about.’

  Celene lifted her head on hearing Spence’s name. She caught Seca shaking hers and pointing her way.

  ‘Sorry, M’am. Didn’t see you there,’ said Rom.

  I can’t worry about Spence. He will be fine. He is doing his job. I have to do mine. She used one of Nata’s motions to wave away the marine’s concern.

  First, the threat to the Guard. Not only debilitating but now also life threatening. If this condition spreads, it has the potential to destroy the Guard. Trust is removed if you can not rely on your on your comrade, your fellow cadreman, and it was trust that bound the Guard, made it effective. This could be a weapon after all. Would the Houses have used it? No. Two of the cases were in the PlanCon Group with Colda. Two Blues. Celene checked their identities on the screen then, on another thought, against the list in her notebook. Both men had substituted for PlanCon agents in the Box. They are part of the House faction. And too close to Colda and Coltrane both. Biological agents could not be controlled in space, especially in a high radiation area like the Gap. No, the House faction would suffer along with the rest of the Guard.

  She shut down the screen.

  There is another player in this game. We can not forget that. Distant as we are, we are still part of their domain. The Scholar’s reports would have arrived some time ago. Regardless, it would be naïve to think that the Inner Belt did not have hidden agents of its own here. The Passages were too important. It was unlikely that they were unaware of the House schemes. Perhaps they doubted Quartermaine’s ability to fend them off. Perhaps this was a preparatory strike. It had the subtlety of the predominant lines, the true rulers of the Inner Belt.

  A possibility. But not for me. If it is biological, Aesca will find it and eliminate it. Celene closed down that line of thought. ‘Direct your consideration to outcomes that you can affect,’ her tutors had taught her.

  Second, the threat to me, personally. I triggered this attack. No one else. Aesca and the Med staff, including other females, had attended him previously. Aesca was closer to him when he struck. He passed her to attack me. I saw the intent in his eyes.

  This was the first act of violence induced by the condition. None of the other sufferers had exhibited this behaviour. Lammas had not either, previously. His conflict had been internal. Indeed, she thought it was the trigger for his fits, these more frequent, more violent, and of greater duration than those reported of the others. Conflicting compulsions. Where did they come from?

  Lammas was well respected, considered to be one of the most technically adept people on Base. Even the Armourer deferred to his skill. Her malfunctioning vest had been sent to the Blue for examination. As in that case, he was always willing to assist and over time had mixed with almost every group on Base. Everyone liked him. He was one of the few that could draw a smile from Trahern. Quartermaine had a special fondness for the young Blue. He had not tried to hide his satisfaction when Lammas had offered to leave his cadre and take over the Armoury. ‘Why waste a good man like him up there with Colda?’

  How could such an accomplished young man develop these extremes of compulsive behaviour? What has he been subjected to? Consideration of the remainder of the litany, ‘where’ and ‘when’, gave her an answer. It was right there in front of her. Her start halted Seca in mid stride, and the marine beyond her, Rom, she thought, went so far as to snap into a combat stance. Celene signaled them to ease, then shook her head. How can I have been so stupid! ‘The first act of violence induced by the condition.’ Damn! How many murders do I need? It was the same as Donen. A compulsion leading to a violent attack. From the Box. The damn Box! Lammas was on the list in front of her. He had substituted for someone from PlanCon. That put him in the Box twice. She was sure now that she would find that all the cadremen experiencing these catatonic trances would have assayed the Box more than once. Nata would have a list.

  Wait. Donen was manipulated by PlanCon. I’m sure of it. But this rash of cases can’t be placed at PlanCon’s door. It is not to their benefit. No! That’s sloppy thinking. That’s when I thought it might be a weapon. This is an accident, built in by our own training, waiting to happen. Something
has changed to trigger it. Her thoughts spun. Trigger? I was the trigger for Lammas. ‘Slow down,’ she told herself.

  Donen was manipulated by PlanCon. They were aware of his condition, this condition. It could have just as easily been me killed if I had been in Briodi’s place. But they are not here now. They are weeks gone into the Gap.

  Could they have left Lammas imprinted with a murderous imperative? Set for me. Possibly. Was it his conscience, his ethics, warring with this command that caused his stasis? No. There were two compulsions in his eyes, two sets of conditioning that came together with one purpose. My destruction. Where has this second set come from?

  Or is it the first? I am stupid. She knew. She should have known all along. The other player in this game.

  Deep conditioning. Elsewise was a prime example. His role in life was fixed, loyalty to the Inner Belt built in. Nothing could come before it. His brilliant mind could only be applied to a pre-determined set of topics. Self-analysis was not included. His friendship with Nata has probably already taken him close to those boundaries, thought Celene. I must warn them somehow. If he transgressed he would fall ill or lose his abilities. If he persevered, it could destroy him.

  Elsewise would not be the only Inner Belt agent on Base. His role was scholarly, non-intrusive. His study could take him away from Base as quickly as it had delivered him. There would be other, more permanent agents set to observe, and to act, if necessary. Who better than someone with skills that everyone drew on - someone with access to all of Base, someone everybody liked. Free to contribute to the Guard. No conflict in loyalties, no threat to the Guard as long as it was true to the role decreed by the Inner Belt.

  But a threat to me? Possibly. Depending on the line that controlled him. The major lineages of the Inner Belt preyed on each other constantly. It was what kept them ascendant. How could he have recognised me? Suspicions, yes, but confirmation?