The Return of the Grey

by Robert Lee Henry

The Grey’s voice broke through the immediacy of her confrontation with Gati. What am I doing? Acting on doubt. Our strength is our trust. But how can I trust Trahern? She drew a deep breath. He is my comrade and Commander. How can I break faith with that? The decision made, she stood up and stepped back.

  ‘Wait it is, but a few words wouldn’t go astray,’ she said. The whole of the Group was looking over her shoulder, so to speak. Everyone would have seen Colda try to interfere and Gati’s handling of that, proper action for a shadow. They wouldn’t know that the PlanCon commander was dead, though. No need to upset them. ‘Zinni, take the Seventh across to PlanCon, behind the Grey’s Weave,’ she ordered. ‘Commander Colda is indisposed.’ There, that’s done. Now it’s up to these two, Trahern and Quartermaine. The first ‘wait’ had come from Quartermaine. That had sunk in. More important was the ‘I know who it is’.

  La Mar walked across to the comm station. My turn to look over a shoulder. Images and sensor data flashed in a bewildering display. Quartermaine and Trahern would be getting this through all the craft they controlled. The way they were wired up, the sensor data would feel like it was coming through their skin. I hope that they can make some sense of it. The display stopped. The comm screen settled back to dull grey. Heads turned in the quiet. Nothing seemed to be happening. Not nothing, corrected La Mar. All the Ships in the universe are over there and we are closing at half speed.

  ‘Well, we are waiting,’ she said.

  CHAPTER 108: BACK ON BASE, A COMMAND OF CRIPPLES

  ‘Looks like I fit right in here,’ said Burnt Thomas coming through the door. ‘Never seen a bunch as chewed up as this around a command table before. Are we all that are left? Sorry state the Guard has come to.’

  The words were harsh but there was a betraying warmth in the gravely voice. He is happy to be here and in our company, thought Johnson. Here his scars do not set him apart. ‘Welcome, Thomas. Specialist Celene and Scholar Elsewise should be here soon. Captain Chalkley and I wait.’

  ‘Don’t know why you called me anyway,’ said Thomas as he sat. ‘Not with the brains of them two. I took the Armourer’s place and I know weapons as well as he but I am no strategist. You would have done better to call young Steamsetter in.’

  ‘It’s your common sense and experience we need, Thomas,’ said Johnson. ‘There are no grand schemes in the air. We just have to preserve things and have them ready when the others return.’ That’s how he saw it, this command that Quartermaine had settled on him. Not too different from his own job commanding Supply and he approached it the same. He had made a list.

  ‘Speaking of sense,’ said Thomas. ‘I had a visit from your man Peg the other day.’

  ‘No trouble I hope,’ said Chalkley.

  ‘Nah, no trouble. I was working some steel, anvil and forge, the old way, and I had a stretch and a look up and there he was. Up on top of one of my racks, laid back as comfortable as you like. “Can I help you?” I said to him and he says “Thanks, I’m fine. I just like the noise.” Imagine that. The clash and clamour and he liked it.’

  The old man paused. Probably to tilt his head or lift his arms. Johnson had learned to wait through these quiet moments in conversation.

  ‘To be honest, I like the noise myself but it is different when it comes from the hammer back up your own arm,’ finished Thomas.

  ‘I think he misses the Rim,’ offered Johnson. ‘The roar of your forge would sound like the wind there. And the hammering … well, I think he misses the violence of the place.’ The howl of the Rim’s wild sky came to him, and the judder of the ground. In a strange way he missed it himself.

  ‘He said to me the other day, “They will find it for you”,’ said Chalkley quietly. ‘Not understanding, I asked him what he meant. “Your leg, sir. They will find it for you.” “Who?” I asked, still not quite with him. “Sunny and the Red Commander,” he answered.’

  Johnson heard the creak of Chalkley’s chair. He has turned to face me.

  ‘He believes that you saw them together on the Rim. That you lost your sight on the Rim so it is still there. That you can see them sometimes, Sunny in marine fatigues and the mercenary in his red suit, running together, grey and red. They will find the leg for me, Peg says.’

  There was another creak as Chalkley must have relaxed back.

  “Fat lot of good that will do me here, Peg,” I says to him. “Not for now,” he says. “For later. They will find somewhere safe for it.” And then I understood him. The ghosts would look after my ghost leg until I need it - when I become a ghost. Not so bad an idea. I wouldn’t mind having it back. A compliment also, for his experience is that only the good ones come back. And Peg is the expert on ghosts.’

  ‘His parting from Sunny was traumatic. He needs to believe that his friend’s spirit continues and that it is not left there alone, not abandoned to the horrors of the Rim. Peg saw something in the Red Eagle commander that convinced him that this man would be a worthy companion. The device of Johnson’s lost sight serves to corroborate this fantasy.’ Celene’s curt words put an end to the discussion.

  Now our table of cripples is complete, thought Johnson sadly. Celene’s scars would be hidden by her clothes but her tone betrayed her. Matter of fact, clipped, unemotional, as confident and authoritative as always but with no sign of the humour that used to grace her speech.

  He heard chairs scrape as the others rose to greet her. He leant forward and searched for the arm of his chair. A light touch on his shoulder eased him back.

  ‘No need to stand.’ Her voice was close, a light scent and the rustle of her clothes came with it.

  Poor Celene, you have lost so much. A tear came with the thought but his eyes were too ruined for him to feel it.

  *

  Celene turned quickly to the table. Johnson had never been one to school his countenance. In his blindness he had become more transparent. She had seen the sadness bloom on his face when he heard her voice. She had tried to ignore it but the lone tear from those wrecked eyes threatened to undo her, to bring on tears of her own.

  ‘The Gold has gone to fetch Scholar Elsewise from Med. If there are matters that can be discussed in the absence of the Inner Belt, then do so now. Time is short and I have patients to see to.’ There, that should bring them to order.

  She had to sit before Chalkley and Thomas would return to their seats.

  Johnson took his cue from the end of the noise. ‘This is just to see where we stand. So we know what needs attention. Let’s see. Humm. The marines. That should be straight forward. Captain Chalkley?’

  ‘Fifteen full squads counting the one with the Group. Another fifty-two marines in Med that should be out in two to four weeks. Seven longer term. Eleven that won’t ever be able to return to full duties. Only four sergeants, but that’s all we need with these numbers.’

  ‘Your readiness, Captain?’ asked Celene. ‘Here and now.’ Numbers were only part of it.

  ‘Fourteen squads, fit and rested. All veterans of the Rim.’

  ‘Yet the squads are newly formed, are they not? And the Rim for all its fierceness is primitive.’

  ‘That is correct, Specialist.’

  ‘Our next action is not likely to be so technically restricted.’ She switched her regard to the scarred serviceman. ‘How do we stand as to advanced weapons?’

  ‘More than adequate stocks,’ said Thomas. ‘Didn’t use any of the personal armament on the Rim so didn’t lose any. Of the larger stuff, only a few mag cannon. Plenty of gear in the armoury. Should be familiar to Chalkley’s lot. Some of them would have used it in small actions. They should have all trained with it one time or another.’

  ‘Remove the ‘shoulds’. Break the squads in. On the plain and in orbit. Gunnery, suitwork also.’ Chalkley and Thomas were staring at her. ‘That is my recommendation,’ she added.

  ‘Sounds fine. That will keep them busy, and you two also,’ said Johnson with a smile directed towards the men. He swung back to her, a seriousness settli
ng on his features. ‘Specialist. Are the marines clear of the psychological disturbance from the Box?’

  The question surprised her. She didn’t believe anyone knew how far she had taken her testing, outside of Elsewise that was. Her patterns saturated Base. They were on all the screens, comm to recreational. On exit signs, notices, the menu boards in the messes, scratched on shaded glass, pinned through curtains. Had Johnson been able to deduce it from her requests to Supply and Services? Unlikely, as she and her staff had constructed most of them on their own. No, he asks because it is my job to know, no different from Thomas and the armoury. ‘I believe so,’ she answered.

  ‘Good. That settles the marines then. Now the specialties, Service and Supply?’

  ‘They appear to be unaffected,’ she answered.

  ‘Good. That leaves the cadres and PlanCon?’

  ‘In both cases I have to say no. They are not ‘clear’, as you put it.’

  ‘Those you have in Med, you mean?’

  He wants to tick this off as complete, or a least under control. ‘No. Cadremen returning from the Arm went straight into the Group. I was not able to vet them. The same for a portion of PlanCon.’ The later she considered unlikely prospects. Colda’s cooks and quartermasters. None had assayed the Box twice according to her lists. But she was not going to assume innocence for anyone.

  ‘In the Group?’ said Johnson, dismay clear on his features.

  ‘Numbers,’ offered Chalkley. ‘Quartermaine needed the numbers against the Ships. Couldn’t take the chance of offending PlanCon. Not before he lifted. The cadremen, well, as long as they would go against the Ships …’ he tailed off.

  A bitter argument, remembered Celene. One she had lost, her guilt defeating her.

  ‘Well, that can’t be left. Not for the long term. But what can we do?’ asked Johnson.

  ‘The Ships will set it right.’ Those had been Quartermaine’s final words. She had no argument for that. Let them die for the Guard. The Group will not come back. There are too many Ships. The Rim had stripped her of hope. She was not of the same stuff as these men at the table. Scarred and maimed, with all that had been done to them, they could still believe. They ready for the return of their comrades while I prepare for the next blow.

  ‘Same as was done at the Gate,’ grunted Thomas. He swung his whole torso around to face her. ‘That works, doesn’t it?’

  Accept their belief and contribute objectively, you owe them that, she told herself. Don’t lessen their hope because you can’t share it. ‘They may be prepared, alert to any screening,’ she said.

  ‘They don’t get a choice. Set up in all the corridors out of the hangars. Let the marines run them through,’ said Thomas.

  ‘No problem there,’ said Chalkley.

  ‘One at a time if need be,’ continued Thomas. ‘You’ll know then won’t you?’

  He kept his eyes on her until she answered. ‘Yes.’ And she meant it, if any returned. She had let this sickness grow, she would eradicate it.

  ‘What about Quartermaine?’ asked Chalkley. ‘Will he allow it? To be treated like that, if they come back from meeting the Ships?’

  Heroes all, survivors of fierce battle against unimaginable odds, to be treated as suspect in their own home. Celene wondered at how calloused they had all become.

  ‘I will still be in command,’ said Johnson. So quiet had he sat that they had almost forgotten him. ‘I won’t hand over until they are all vetted.’

  And you who have been so careful not to lay blame on anyone else will take it all on yourself.

  ‘The old man can go first, to set a good example,’ laughed Thomas.

  ‘Will that settle it, Celene?’ asked Johnson. ‘Cure those in your care and then it will be over?’

  She knew how much he wanted her to say yes. ‘Some will be beyond help.’ Her hand went to her belly. Those held on Base would be dealt with, one way or another. They were not the problem. ‘Twelve cadremen, all on my list, are overdue from the Arm. I suspect that they are renegades. To the Guard that is. To their own cause they may be true.’ Armed and mobile, able to raid, to inflict harm on the innocents of the Arm, as their obsession builds and they cater to their cravings. ‘The longer they are out there the worse they will get.’ All my fault.

  A knock on the open door saved her from having to face Johnson’s reaction.

  *

  ‘Scholar Elsewise,’ announced Alizane. ‘At your pleasure. However, if he is not back in Med in an hour, my life, as it is, is forfeit.’ An exaggeration certainly, but not by much, he thought. The doctor’s words had been ‘Back in an hour or what I will do to you will make Quartermaine seem kind’. Not much of a threat at first reading. Quartermaine should have had me shot for refusing to fly against the Ships. Then and there. House arrest, to be dealt with later was considered merciful, lenient in the circumstances. I would rather have had the bullet or beam or whatever, between the eyes, than this. The looks from everyone I pass; wonder, that I, the Gold, could have become a coward, slowly turning to disdain, or worse, to pity like that on the faces of the one-legged marine and the half-burnt serviceman across the room. He smiled into it. He couldn’t do anything else. The stiff back of the Specialist was in front of him. There’s one that would shoot me. Afraid of what else he might see he switched his gaze to the Commander when she turned. At least there were no eyes to look into there.

  ‘Greetings, Scholar Elsewise. Sorry to take you from your care,’ said Johnson. ‘We will be brief.’

  ‘Do not be concerned,’ answered Elsewise from beside Alizane. ‘A rest from my respite is not unwelcome, although that is not a sentiment I would utter elsewhere.’

  His comment drew smiles from all those around the table. They had all been in Aesca’s care at one time or another.

  Alizane handed the Scholar to a seat and took his staff. ‘This will be here by the door,’ he said softly. ‘I will wait outside.’ So much for the one path, it’s killing us both.

  Johnson lifted an arm. ‘Wait, Alizane. Sit also. We have no one to speak for the cadres.’

  ‘They may not care to have me represent them.’

  ‘No, sit,’ said Johnson. ‘All actions are not for everyone.’ He raised his hand higher and swung it to include all at the table. ‘I doubt that you cadremen and marines ever think about that but it is something a supplyman knows from the beginning. Yet we do what we can.’ He brought his hand down to the table, tapped lightly a few times then lifted a finger. ‘Where we are is this. We have renegades in the arm. Our own people. Carrying the curse from the Box. They must be captured and returned for treatment, or destroyed. There is no other way around it. If they are as far gone as the caretakers, it will have to be the latter.’

  Stunned by the blind commander’s casual dismissal of his transgression, it took Alizane several seconds to sort out the rest. Renegades. Crazed killers like the caretakers loose in the Arm. He shot a look to the Specialist. She gazed back unperturbed.

  ‘It is not something that we can let ride,’ continued Johnson. ‘Are there any cadremen available for an immediate mission?’

  He means for me to answer that, realised Alizane. ‘Quartermaine took everyone on Base with him. Except those in Med.’

  ‘The cadremen in my care have weeks of therapy before them,’ broke in Celene. ‘Even then I would be reluctant to re-expose them to that perversion. Who knows what the renegades will have waiting? Rooting them out will require an expedition. Two to three times their number of craft and several squads of marines. Do not underestimate their conviction and cunning.’

  ‘The longer we wait the worse it will get. Your own words,’ said Johnson with a shrug. ‘It may be some time before we have a vetted cadre at our disposal.’

  That’s a mild way of putting it, thought Alizane. Maybe never if there are as many Ships on the way as they say.

  ‘There are servicemen who can operate craft,’ said Thomas. ‘We could take the marines in transports. But we would have to surp
rise them, catch them on the ground. In the air they would be too quick. Some would be sure to get away.’

  ‘Would you be willing to go after them?’

  Johnson’s question quieted the room. They all knew who it was meant for.

  Go against cadremen, kill them if need be, considered Alizane. If they are like Sikes and Easley, sure. If that is what the Box does to them. I won’t let them play with the souls in the Arm they way Colda allowed them to finish off Ships. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Locate them,’ continued Johnson. ‘Send that information back. Stay with them and limit their depredation, as much as possible. Until we can effect a solution.’

  ‘Sure.’ Now this was a path he could follow. If only there was one with as much appeal for the Scholar.

  *

  A good solution, to two problems. Celene’s admiration for Johnson grew. Somehow he finds the best course for the Guard, not through calculation, more by instinct. The Gold could not be left as he was. Whatever his motivation, the plain fact was that he had refused an order to confront the enemy. That was their sole purpose on Base, however you dressed it up. Dead or gone, that was all that was possible for the Gold. She was surprised Quartermaine had left it. She wouldn’t have.

  ‘Check with command,’ said Johnson. ‘Records will have their flight plans and last recorded positions. You will have to start there. We don’t have much fresh news. The Passages have been quiet for weeks. Once you are close, contact the authorities.’

  ‘Troll the ports,’ added Thomas. ‘Rumour travels faster than fact.’

  ‘Specialist. Are there any signs that he should look for?’ asked Johnson. ‘What will they do next? Where are they most likely to strike?’ The commander halted.

  If she had known these things three weeks ago, Nata would still be alive, Kendricks, the young supplyman also. One of yours, Commander, caught up in a tale that killed him. Even an inkling, months back, may have saved more lives. Twenty-one victims on La Mar’s list alone. Rejects of the Heartless Cross. So short a time. So be it, I know now. ‘Look for attacks on single transports, isolated settlements or stations. No survivors. Bloody corpses, wounds or burns in a fanned array. Missing victims, one or two at most, female.’ The men around the table were still and silent. ‘Looting confined to weapons and supplies, possibly construction materials.’ They would want to run as far as they could from Base but the compulsion would be on them to build, to set their visions in stone or metal. It would defeat their flight. ‘They will prepare a bolt hole in some remote corner of the Arm, or take over a raider’s compound. The latter, I think, for that would give them the chance of converts.’ She fixed her gaze on the Gold. ‘Do not let them capture you.’