The Return of the Grey

by Robert Lee Henry

  Damn, I should be out there with her. But he couldn’t, not yet, couldn’t walk that far, to be honest.

  ‘She’ll be fine, Sarge. That’s a good squad with her out there.’

  A serviceman laid a bowl of something and a plate with rolls on the table and slid them across. It took a second for Tollen to realise that it was for him. ‘What? Don’t you think I can get my own food?’

  The man just smiled back. Fosci, one of his from the Rim.

  ‘Didn’t want you to miss out on the rolls, Sarge.’

  There, that tells it. No one’s afraid of me anymore. But the warm food hit the spot. Thin stew or thick soup, whatever it was, it was good, and the rolls were just as he liked them. He tucked in, concentrating on the food, only lifting his eyes to the motion of people arriving or leaving.

  La Mar nodded to him when she came in. Something odd there. Her hair was different, pulled back, but that wasn’t it. No one at her side. That was it. He was used to seeing her flanked by Bethane and Rhone. If not them, then a whole gaggle of her cadre. Times change, he told himself, even if you don’t like it, old man. Bethane is probably with Gati, and Rhone, hell, we still have to get her back. He went back to his food. Too many people on their own lately. That reminded him. ‘Anybody seen Peg?’

  ‘He was in earlier. With Commander Johnson. They ate then headed out,’ said Daniels raising his eyebrows and shrugging. ‘Going to Tracka-dan’s, they said.’

  Tollen shrugged back. Night doesn’t mean anything to either of them, so why not? Should be safe out there now.

  ‘Nothing there that could get the jump on Peg,’ said one of the others.

  That’s true. For sure. Even Trahern, skilled as he is, had let Peg come to him on the Rim.

  The noise lifted as more marines rolled in. This is more like it, thought Tollen. A full squad. Not so many full squads since the Rim. Jared One-eye left the others at the servery to take a seat by his side.

  ‘Evening, Sergeant Tollen.’

  ‘Squad leader.’

  ‘The Specialist went straight to Med. Says she’ll eat there. Plenty of security and La Mar had already worded up all our wounded so we signed off. Drop a pin up there now and someone will hit you over the head with a crutch.’ Jared lowered that one eye of his to the table then went on. ‘Heard there was some trouble at the Gate.’

  ‘Nothing that they couldn’t handle,’ said Tollen. Jared and the rest of the squad had been torn by loyalties this day. ‘The Specialist’s Squad’, some called them, others referred to them as ‘La Mar’s’. Don’t know where that leaves marine command, mused Tollen. Pack had gone with La Mar’s team as a compromise. With something in that arm of his, I bet. ‘La Mar is here if you want a word. But I wouldn’t let on that you were worried if I were you. Could end up back in Med.’

  ‘Nah,’ said Jared. ‘The Amazons aren’t as touchy as they used to be. And speaking of ‘back in Med’, Aesca was looking for you, like she expected to see you up there, and she wasn’t happy.’

  ‘Well. I got things to do, elsewhere, you know.’

  ‘Sure Sarge,’ said Jared rising. ‘I better get some food.’ The scarred man called across to next table. ‘Hey, Daniels.’ Loud enough for the whole mess to hear. ‘Corie wants to see you in Med. To discuss some part of her anatomy you were looking for on the Rim.’

  Laughter, and Jared’s scarred face twisted into a horrendous smile. Tollen felt at home. Belly full, in the company of marines, with those he cared for accounted for, he should have been completely at ease. But he wasn’t. Something was coming, he felt it. Soon. The Rangers had disappeared real fast. And he wasn’t ready. He could barely walk. There was no way he could shoulder his gear and fight. They would leave him behind.

  A sudden hush pulled him out of his contemplation. A loud clang swung his eyes to the front of the mess. Mad Mike, wielding a sledge one-handed like a carpenter’s hammer, belting a spike through something high on the wall, next to Tommo’s suit arms.

  Two more whacks and he was done. A set of suit legs, boot to thigh, hung there when the big man stepped away. Scraped and scarred, with a rough circular weld below the knee on each of them. Seca’s.

  I’ll be ready, thought Tollen. Marines are always ready.

  CHAPTER 104: ALIZANE’S PATH

  ‘I was not prepared for this,’ said Alizane. The patches on his shoulders caught the last of the day’s light. Purple and gold.

  Who will change those now that you are gone? Ahh, my friend. Elsewise moved up to the wall beside the cadreman and joined his survey of the plain. In silence they watched the light fade. When all was grey, he spoke. ‘It is the result that he had hoped for.’

  ‘His death?’ said Alizane.

  ‘No. That never entered into his considerations. Not out of a conceit. Simply that according to his philosophy it wouldn’t matter. Once one is truly on the path, death is not an inconvenience.’ A last lesson there for his students, all of us. ‘I speak of your development.’

  ‘My development?’ Alizane almost snorted. ‘I am no good for anything now.’

  Elsewise waited for more, an explanation or accusation. Instead, the Gold jumped down from the wall and walked across the sand.

  Don’t leave, thought Elsewise. There is more here for both of us.

  It brought Nata back, almost. To be here on his training ground. To be striving to understand. Learning. In the cool of the night on the sand. Happy times, he realised now. Clumsy swings of his staff matched by equally awkward attempts at new ways of thought. Attempts I wasn’t even aware of making. All at Nata’s encouragement. A subtle nudging onto a path. Not so gentle for Alizane, not his last task anyway.

  The Gold stopped at the racks and gazed at the cradled items. Weapons, simple poles to ornate blades. Despite the neglect of the past weeks they gleamed faintly in the pale moonlight, from the polish of hands and careful oiling. Elsewise watched Alizane’s hand rise to each in turn. Some he gripped and lifted slightly. Others he merely touched. Remembering. Long hours of training with his teacher. Elsewise clutched his staff tighter. Finally, the Gold chose something from the side of the rack and stepped out onto the sand.

  To burn up his emotion in action, thought Elsewise. The reaction of a warrior. Prepared for the violent grace of a kata, it was several seconds before he recognised the motion. Out and along through the sand, flowing, slow, curving back in then out again. Raking. He is raking the sand. Oh my friend, you should see this. Action had always been the Gold’s response. A strike to end any confrontation. Now he contemplates.

  That had been the Nata’s purpose in recommending Alizane for the exercises with the Ships. Experiments not exercises, Elsewise corrected. That the creatures of the Ships would act as they did had been a theory, his theory. Alizane’s life had been hazarded on the outcome. A worthwhile wager, his friend had said, if only for the opportunity for his student to develop. ‘Without weapons on his craft his ability to attack will be reduced and he will have to find another response. Perhaps that will return him to the path.’

  I believe that he has done it, thought Elsewise. He pictured his small friend smiling and smiled along with him. But this path you have set us on will not be easy. Not for either of us. I fear it wanders far from the routes we are accustomed to following.

  ‘How did you know that the Ships would not destroy me?’ The Gold stopped his raking and waited for an answer.

  ‘It was only a possibility, although of high probability. There have been reports from all Passage commands of instances where engagements were concluded by the beings of the Ships without the destruction of our people, although that was within their power. Always following exhibitions of skill or bravery on our part, the part of their foe. ‘Giving quarter’, you call it.’

  ‘We gave them no quarter out in the Gap, no mercy, no matter how well they flew,’ said Alizane. ‘Was that your command, your ‘Inner Belt request’? To preserve the isolation of your experiments?’

  ‘No.’ Another la
yer of sadness settled on his heart like fine dust. He had hoped for the opposite; interactions leaving survivors on both sides, communicating their experiences to others, creating a history of events that could share some commonality, eventually facilitating communication between the two sets of beings.

  ‘Colda then.’ Alizane threw down the rake, ruining his work. ‘And they praise him for it.’

  ‘The mission was highly successful,’ said Elsewise.

  ‘Not through his intent. He took us away from them, not at them. The only thing that saved us was that they didn’t chase.’ Alizane stared at the sand and the rake. ‘He took us out to the fringes where they were few, where our numbers could overwhelm them. We were the lure, your experiments. Colda learned that they would come in to us. Later, when I … when we became less effective a draw, he used others as bait.’

  Another action on Colda’s part that had generated unforeseen results. Ruthless in its application. To a degree that Elsewise himself had not been prepared to go. The PlanCon Commander had found that craft exhibiting malfunction brought an almost immediate response from the beings of the Ships. They came to investigate, and presented with symptoms of a specific disability, pilot malfunction, they attacked, regardless of the disposition of their enemy. The ruthlessness of their attack was matched by Colda’s willingness to use this scheme again and again to trap them. And in the use of his own men. La Mar, who had carried out the assessments, suspected that it was worse. That in some cases the pilot disability had not been mimicked.

  ‘While they were occupied,’ continued Alizane, ‘he would bring up the Group and envelop them. The whole Group.’ The cadreman turned to Elsewise and pointed past him. ‘Like setting a thousand marines out on the plain to stomp one mouse.’

  ‘One mouse?’ asked Elsewise.

  ‘Perhaps something more,’ admitted Alizane.

  ‘More? Complete the allegory accurately, please.’

  ‘A well-trained man,’ answered Alizane, tapping his gold stripe with one hand.

  Ahh! He emphasises with the beings of the Ships, exulted Elsewise. He puts himself in their place. Oh my friend, the progress of your student could have aided my endeavour. If only some of the Ships had been allowed to survive. If only the rest were not on their way. Events move too quickly now.

  ‘Most people here on Base would approve of such tactics,’ said Elsewise.

  ‘And I would have been one of them,’ said the Gold. ‘Now …’

  He is at loss to describe his state. Either he has not thought it through or more likely pulls back from the conclusion and consequences. He is not alone in that. ‘The One Path,’ said Elsewise.

  Alizane regained the rake, in a single flowing motion that reminded Elsewise of Nata.

  The Gold swung the tool to indicate their setting. ‘He would explain it so simply?’

  ‘No. He would tell a long story or assign a perplexing task. I merely hypothesise in his absence. In this I am as much a student as you.’

  The Gold smiled and returned to his raking. ‘Then expound your theory, please.’

  ‘We each have our path. There are similarities but they are separate. Our training can be used to assist but it is no longer a guide to our actions. Inherent in training is a purpose. You were trained to fight the enemies of Base. I was trained to study developments of interest to the Inner Belt. Those purposes are no longer our primary motivation. Our purpose will be found on our path.’

  ‘You were doing well up until that last bit. I’ve heard that before and it makes as much sense now as it did then.’ The Gold drew himself up to intone, ‘The journey is often more important than the destination.’

  Elsewise could not help but smile.

  They shared the moment, standing on the sand in the moonlight. Then the Gold’s smile faded. ‘But what happens when the purposes conflict? What does that make of us?’

  He didn’t wait for an answer, turning his back and resuming his raking.

  That is a serious consideration, agreed Elsewise. One that I have been avoiding. He opened his mind to contemplate it.

  *

  Alizane raked, taking care to form the long curved patterns that his master had liked. He’d received no answer from the Scholar but he didn’t need one. He knew what he had become.

  The Ships flew like he dreamed, and sometimes, with them, he had been able to fly that way also. Contests had given way to collaborations, from intricate patterns flown at incredible speeds to slow almost drifting progressions as if they flew the solar wind itself. Joy. A clean clear joy that had nothing of triumph in it. As though he had been allowed into the company of angels.

  Before the Group had made the grand turn at the end of the first sweep, he had taken to flying ahead, recorders off, to meet Ships on his own, far in advance of the enveloping van. To fly with them and to warn them, to try to drive them away.

  His time with the Ships had made him a traitor.

  CHAPTER 105: GROUP COMMAND

  ‘Who’s had the most experience with the Ships?’ asked La Mar.

  ‘With?’ queried Quartermaine.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ said La Mar. ‘Against them.’

  ‘Colda. I would have to say Colda. The Grey Group’s battle along the dead zone was over in less than a day, by Trahern’s own account.’

  ‘But Trahern flew against them many times before that, before their final push,’ cut in La Mar.

  ‘Yes, that’s true’, he conceded. ‘But too long ago. No one will remember that.’

  ‘And Colda’s contact was all the same, the one tactic over and over again,’ said La Mar. ‘I doubt the Ships will line up and take turns.’

  ‘But he was successful. That is what is in everyone’s mind.’

  ‘Only because of the odds. If he’s after the same odds he will have to go a long way from the Passages,’ said La Mar.

  That was the rub. Colda would be accepted as battle commander but could he take the fight to the enemy? Would he? Against the numbers they would have to face.

  ‘You and I know what will be waiting for us out there,’ continued La Mar. ‘More than last time, if I read it right.’

  ‘Like the numbers along the dead zone,’ agreed Quartermaine. ‘If the Grey’s estimate was accurate.’

  ‘The ‘if’ is the problem there,’ said La Mar, shaking her head. ‘Those who served with him on the Rim would follow him anywhere, but other than them not many trust him. He was gone too long. The other cadres are wary and PlanCon don’t know him at all. Hell, I am not sure of him myself.’

  La Mar was arguing both sides, much as he had. He was happy to go through it again with her. Maybe she would find something he’d missed. She had a good mind for men and tactics. He stopped walking to consider her. She pulled up to match him.

  ‘No. I would be less acceptable than the Grey,’ said the sturdy woman. ‘You are going to have to do it.’ She studied him and proved how well she read people with her next words. ‘Or jam them in so tight against the Ships that there is no choice but to fight, then name one of the others at the last minute.’

  His plan, almost all of it. There was a chance for a change but it was so small that he couldn’t count on it. Didn’t want to lay his hopes on it in case their weight collapsed the possibility. Damn, getting superstitious in my old age. No place for that in battle.

  They resumed their walk, in silence for a ways. He could lead them out, no problem there. Take the fight to the enemy and fight to the last. What he couldn’t do was believe that they could win.

  ‘We’ve stopped them twice with Weaves. Hard to believe that they wouldn’t have come up with something against that.’ La Mar was talking tactics now. ‘We have the gear?’ she asked.

  ‘Two sets,’ he answered. He would Weave also, if it was necessary. Not that he could manage the numbers and complexity Trahern was capable of, but he could set a solid front and give Trahern something to work against.

  ‘Well, it’s been good for us in the past again
st the Ships and it helped with your scout. Maybe the luck will continue,’ offered La Mar.

  His pessimism returned. Can’t depend on luck. The Ships will have learned. Maybe the large mass their route suggests that they are bringing is a weapon, or a weapon platform, something to nullify the efficiency of a Weave, or to make the tactic a liability. Its strength could be its weakness, so many craft under a single controller.

  ‘Looks like there is a problem,’ said La Mar. They were coming to the hangars now. The noise of talk had built up and the corridors were full of cadremen, not unexpected as they were all to lift today. But there was no movement.

  ‘Stalled,’ he said aloud. Damn, he said in his mind. This is what he had tried to avoid. He’d called the assembly without warning, advised them all of the Ships advance, and ordered the cadres to their craft. All without discussion. To get them moving and committed. ‘We will sort out battle command once we are up there,’ he had said. To prevent delay or dissent.

  Colda could still ruin it. PlanCon would hesitate on his order, perhaps not follow unless he was named commander of this new Group. There was also a threat of worse action, so alien that he hadn’t even imagined it, had to be enlightened by Celene in clipped speech that matched the cold calculation in her eyes. ‘Ceding the Passages to the beings of the Ships, allowing their entry into the realms of the Inner Belt, could be seen as advantageous by the House consortium. The incursion would occupy Inner Belt resources, weakening their strength at the least, perhaps breaking it. The Houses would see opportunity in such a development. They could not conceive that all the realms could fall to the invaders and would welcome a new order and a new trading partner.’

  Everything that the Guard stood for, given over for material gain, through treachery. ‘Are they conspiring with the Ships?’ he had asked, the enormity of the offence almost taking his voice away.

  ‘Elsewise thinks not,’ had been her answer. She did not say more but held his eyes until apparently satisfied that he had thought through all the implications. The Inner Belt would be aware of so great a threat. Would have been aware since the first contact with the Ships. Elsewise’s study did not seem so academic, so esoteric anymore. There would be a response. Caught between the Inner Belt, the Houses and the Ships, there seemed little hope for the survival of the Guard. At least going against the Ships had some honour in it. It was what they were here for.