The Return of the Grey

by Robert Lee Henry

  *

  ‘Let this play out’. That’s a hard way of putting it, what we might see in front of us, thought La Mar. Nevertheless, she was glad Trahern was in command. This was the right thing to do. They weren’t compromised, at least not yet, and their formation was solid. A sally to try and rescue the scout, as Quartermaine intended and as she would like to do herself, no matter how limited, would weaken their front and likely draw a full scale attack from the Ships. Hard to sit and watch but it was the correct action.

  The comm screen came to life again. Too much for her to make sense of. She tapped the tech on the shoulder and nodded at the screen. He got her drift.

  ‘Mostly sensor data. From the Ships to him. There, he is sending back. It doesn’t stop. Both going.’ The tech looked up into her eyes. His were wide. ‘They are talking.’ He swung his stare to the alcove. ‘I don’t know what. Maybe they do?’

  Trahern, and somewhere out that way, Quartermaine, La Mar understood. Hooked into sensors little different to that of the scout. It should have meaning to them.

  ‘Well, we are waiting,’ she said again.

  *

  It required concentration but was not onerous, this making sense of the feelings and images. It was not unlike their communication when the scout was on his way in. Instead of fragmented phrases of description, Quartermaine had the feelings and images themselves. Like then he had to let the message play, not force it. A rapport would come.

  ‘They have greeted him happily and he has done the same,’ Quartermaine was soon able to say. ‘They ask where he is from and how he has stayed whole … healthy … uninfected. That’s it. They see us as a form of parasite, on our craft. They are like he is now, in their own way. There are no pilots, no beings inside. The Ships are the beings.’

  The Ships are the beings, so simple. It explains so much, thought La Mar.

  ‘They avoid our contact because to them we are a disease, a horrible disease, like … as if for us, malignant toads crouched in our skulls, chewing on our brains and playing puppets with the strings of our nerves, to leave us drooling idiots when they chose to crawl out of our ears. To return and use us again at their pleasure.’ The image the scout sent him was vile. Quartermaine hoped his words did it justice. Wouldn’t any of us serve mercy to one of our own so afflicted?

  ‘They have studied our craft and that is their interpretation, hulks with their minds, their souls consumed. The scout seeks to explain but they do not wish to hear.’ And how would we treat such an infestation? Contain it? Possibly, for a time. Until we could wipe it out.

  ‘Maybe now we know why they come, understand their aggression. Nevertheless, our job hasn’t changed, nor our will.’ His words were for all of them now, a message to the Ships as well as to his own people. ‘We will not let the Ships go on to harm our kind.’ So much for your hopes, Elsewise. All communication has done is to let us know why we kill each other.

  The plea from the scout was near overwhelming. Images and sensations driven on quickly, piling on each other. Their meaning came through. ‘No, you do not understand. They do not want to harm you. They want nothing to do with you. Though younger they have travelled further. They know the universe to be near infinite. The part you occupy, that you can occupy, is minuscule. They are not so constrained. They can fly the empty reaches, can dwell in the busy hearts of new galaxies. Forces inimical to you do not harm them. The universe is as welcoming to them as it is restricting to you.’

  ‘Then why are they here?’ asked Quartermaine in voice and in images of his own.

  ‘They need to pass,’ sent the scout. ‘To use the Outer Passages to travel to a new galaxy. They have been long on this journey. They need the energy of a new system.’

  Not to invade? Not to exterminate? ‘Do you believe them?’

  ‘Yes. They bring their birthing stations with them. They have let me feel them. There is a sense of urgency, full of wanting for the light ahead and a feeling of unease over something behind. You must let them pass.’

  ‘You’ not ‘we’. You are more like them than us now. Can I trust you? worried Quartermaine.

  Yes, answered the scout.

  How? In my mind!

  Our minds open as we talk this way. It is the same for them. Please let them pass. There is not much time. They are worried by your proximity. They will not suffer you to come closer.

  *

  Quartermaine had gone quiet. Images were still flying but the old man was not translating. This is the crux of it, knew La Mar. The screen settled back to grey. She waited along with the rest of the Group.

  ‘I trust my scout,’ said Quartermaine in that big beautiful voice of his. ‘Now I ask you to trust me. The Ships seek to pass. Away from us. Away from those we protect. There is no need of conflict. So my scout says and so I believe.’ He paused dramatically. ‘It is my decision to allow the Ships the freedom of the Outer Passages.’

  The Inner Belt will destroy you for that, maybe us all, no matter how this comes out, but I am proud of you old man. La Mar smiled. She had always liked the Ships. The ships are the Ships, what a thing. No wonder they fly so well. She wanted to believe. She wanted to believe completely, all of it. Let them pass and we all go home, then I can go get Rhone. Yet she had doubts. It couldn’t be this easy. And there was another hitch, Trahern was in command now, not Quartermaine.

  ‘All craft change course ninety degrees to X negative,’ came Trahern’s voice. ‘Commander Quartermaine release as much of your Weave as you can and still maintain contact with your scout. Take the RARs and lead us down to the Passages. Commander La Mar, configure the rest to follow in tight order. I will maintain this Weave as a screen between our units and theirs. We will proceed to Triamo and form up above the Inner Passages. Commander Quartermaine, please pass our intent to your scout for forwarding to the Ships. Any move on us or toward the Inner Passages will be met with force. The Outer Passages are free to them as you command.’

  Good thinking, Trahern! If there is deceit here, it will show by the Passages. If not then we watch Quartermaine’s miracle. And I will be back with my Amazons, either way.

  CHAPTER 110: ANOTHER PLAYER IN THE GAME

  Alizane ran down the corridor. Pass the word to Elsewise then to the hangars and my ship, then out of here. On my own. While I still can.

  The message had come in while he was up at command, going through his orders, one last time. His craft was ready to lift and so was he, his peace made with Nata and the Scholar farewelled. Nothing remained but the last formality.

  Not quite finished but I will take it as complete. If Johnson finds the time to think about it he will realise that he doesn’t have to send me now. Alizane picked up his pace. The message should hold him a while. What a marvel!

  One of their craft, from the Battle Group, broadcasting ahead of itself through the relays as it arrowed back towards Base. ‘The Group has met the Ships but battle has not been joined. Commander Quartermaine has granted the Ships access to the Outer Passages on the understanding that they proceed away from inhabited regions. The Group under Commander Trahern maintains contact and presses on to occupy the approaches to the Inner Passages. A full record of the encounter follows.’

  Startled but happy, Johnson had called for his advisors, all else forgotten. In the rush, Alizane volunteered to alert Elsewise. The Scholar didn’t carry a comm. The blind commander had nodded him on his way. Good enough. Alizane took that as a dismissal. He had a mission to carry out.

  Ha. The Ships are moving on. What beauties! He wished them joy in their new galaxy.

  *

  Elsewise sailed down the corridor, his long legs and staff making short work of the distance. An ‘understanding’! The Group and the Ships had communicated! It must have been through the expedience of the scoutcraft. That was the only new factor. The connotations threatened to send him into deep contemplation. AI and the Box, Weaves, Trahern, the scout and his modified craft. Wait, he told himself. More will be revealed at commun
ications. Save speculation until all available data is registered. He felt like a youth at school, excitement rushing beyond reason.

  The comm room was crowded. Techs bobbed in their seats, uncertain as to whether they should remain as they were or surrender their chairs to the commanders and service heads jammed in around them. Specialist Celene seemed to cause the most anxiety. This ended, as did all motion and talk, when she took up a position beside the blind commander’s chair.

  ‘Scholar Elsewise is here,’ she announced.

  ‘Good,’ replied Johnson. ‘Run the transmission from the start. And put it on the comm to all of Base.’

  The message ran, followed by tapes.

  It was more than Elsewise had dared to hope for. Not only communication with the Ships but an insight into their nature. He released himself to the flood of considerations.

  *

  Celene emptied the room of non-essential personnel. Let them gossip outside. This great development required no action from them. Not yet. The Group would return. That was the promise so far. Not completely unscathed. She had not been able to see the knife in Gati’s hand but she was sure of Colda’s state. A bonus. With clear evidence of transgression there could be no official complaint. There were spins that could be put on the event to divert the ill-will of the Houses, perhaps deflect some of the ire of the Inner Belt also.

  She studied Elsewise. He stood close to the door, lost in contemplation. Motionless, staff in hand, he looked more like a statue than ever. Some unknown sage from a long forgotten time. I hope he has some wisdom for me. Now that he can consider all parties objectively. The tall man had recovered markedly in the short time since their last discussion.

  ‘A craft has just lifted from the plain,’ said one of the techs. ‘Confirmed as Alizane of the Blues.’

  ‘You could stop him,’ Celene said to Johnson beside her. ‘If all goes well we could have a full expeditionary force at our disposal in a matter of days.’

  Johnson did not consider long. ‘No. It is best for him, and for Commander Quartermaine that he goes. We will catch him up perhaps, before it is all done. And days might make a difference to someone in our care, out in the Arm. With those killers loose.’

  Minutes even, she thought. A few more minutes and I would have been dead. Too late for poor Nata to trade his life for mine. Savagery replaced sadness. Your student will avenge you. That may not be in your teachings but it is in mine. They say that the Gold flies like a Ship now. If he catches them in the air he can destroy them all.

  ‘Commander! There are three craft coming in. From the direction of the Rim. Fast.’ Confusion and worry came through in his next words. ‘The satellites recognise them as friendlies but ….’

  But we have no more craft, Celene finished for him. Either they are renegades or the satellites - .

  ‘It is Oulte!’ The tech’s happy shout cut her thoughts off. ‘It’s him and Chris and Zammit. The Far Rangers! They are calling us.’

  ‘Put him on, put him on,’ said Johnson beaming blindly around the room. ‘This will be good!’

  ‘Commander Oulte, go ahead. Base Commander Johnson here.’

  ‘This is Oulte, Far Rangers reporting. I see we aren’t the only ones with a story. Where is the old man? I thought that we would upset his day.’

  ‘Commander Quartermaine has taken a Group out to meet the Ships. But it has gone well,’ Johnson hastened to add. ‘The Ships are going through the Outer Passages, away from us. There was no need to fight.’

  ‘There you go,’ said Oulte. ‘We fly all around the universe and the strangest thing we come across is here at home. The Ships gone you say? And through the Passages?’

  ‘I know it sounds strange but it all makes sense when you have all the facts,’ offered Johnson. ‘The Scholar understands.’

  ‘Yah, well it will take him to explain it to me.’

  ‘Not to worry Oulte. You Rangers have made a good day better. We thought we lost you on the Rim. It must be some tale you have to tell. Come on in. We’ll swap stories over a drink. Two good endings in two days.’

  ‘This one’s not ended, I’m afraid,’ said Oulte. ‘And it don’t look too good either, my friend. There are craft behind us. A whole damn Inner Belt squadron. Coming fast and furious.’

  ‘The Inner Belt coming here?’ asked Johnson.

  ‘Yah. Heavy cruisers, frigates, even a light explorer.’

  ‘What was their configuration?’ demanded Celene.

  ‘Oh. Hello Specialist,’ greeted Oulte. ‘Standard fleet stuff, cruisers in a diamond, frigates out on the flanks.’

  ‘Where was the explorer?’

  ‘Tucked up inside the diamond.’

  That signals their intent, thought Celene. Explorers were the most highly developed craft in the fleet, capable of tremendous speeds. If the mission was peaceful the explorer would already be here. They mean to take us by surprise. The lack of traffic into the Arm. That is also part of this. They would have blocked the Passages so that word could not travel ahead of them. Her mind raced. With additional forces to maintain the blocks, to come through at a critical time as a reserve.

  ‘Why?’ asked Johnson. ‘Maybe to assist with the Ships? Your reports would have reached them?’ His blind eyes sought out Elsewise but the Scholar stood unaware.

  ‘He is not with us at the moment,’ said Celene. ‘Stand beside him,’ she directed one of the techs. ‘Slightly in front with your head up, eyes on his. That will bring him out safely. He is very deep in thought.’ The culmination of years of study, reward for the dedication of his life. Understandings beyond her ken. Yet she would cut it short. She needed him to help her save Base.

  ‘This force would have left the Inner Belt months ago. It is not coming here to help.’ She said that for everyone’s benefit. ‘I suspect that it is a response to the House schemes. Oulte, how far behind are they?’

  ‘We are less than an hour out and they the same behind us again, if they stay to their current speed. The explorer could catch us but not the rest.’

  She needed time to think. ‘Oulte, tell us your whole story. The short version,’ she added.

  ‘The short version? Yah, sure. The short version is that we didn’t die on the Rim. We flew right through. Found a Passage at the back. Came out who knows where with craft all around us, transports, traders. All armed and not happy to see us. House stuff and mercenaries from the colours and badges. We kept going, into the next set of Passages. And that is most of the story. The short version.’ He paused for effect. ‘We flew right around the universe, Passage to Passage. Finally Zammit recognised one from before, when he was on freighters, and we started back. Never cleared customs though, Commander, not once. Just shot through. Upset a lot of people, I think.’

  Irate officials are the least of our problems, Oulte. That thought gave her the key to another. This is not a standard response. Surprise, multiple units. Too clever. The Inner Belt rules with might, overwhelming force, numbers and firepower both, rarely needed to be employed once in appearance. There is more here. The taint of the lines. Something she had thought she had long left behind.

  ‘At the end we avoided the big jumps and snuck along on the singles. Thought that word of our infringements might be getting ahead of us. When we made it back to the Seventh Galaxy we stopped to rest and came on news of this fleet. No one allowed past Adrienne we were told. We got that far pretending to be escorts on a string of freighters. Zammit’s idea. They had our side of the Passage blocked up proper so we swung out into the system, small jumps, then came across conventionally. Found this squadron ahead of us. Got past them at the Rim.’

  ‘The Rim, Oulte?’ asked Johnson.

  ‘Yah. We flew it again. Not crosswise like the last time, more along it. Hid us from their sensors.’

  Flew the Rim, at a greater speed than starships in clear space. This is the short version, appreciated Celene.

  ‘A great accomplishment, Oulte,’ said Johnson.

  ‘Around
the universe. They will make a song of that,’ called Chalkley. ‘The Rangers Ride. Your names will be famous.’

  ‘We’ll be happy to carve them on one of Nowra’s trees,’ said Oulte. ‘That will be enough for us. What happened to the Rim anyway? You left it a mess.’

  There is no time for this nonsense no matter how well deserved, fretted Celene. How do I get them to appreciate the seriousness of the situation?

  ‘This Inner Belt force expects confrontation, seeks it.’

  Elsewise. Thank the stars!

  ‘But Scholar, the House schemes were foiled’, said Johnson. ‘We stopped them on the Rim and Quartermaine remains in command. Everything is as it should be.’

  Time to be brutal. ‘This force may be led by someone from one of the major lineages,’ she said. ‘Think of Colda times ten and you will have an approximation of his or her character. Come to smash a House rebellion, come to make his or her mark, all the way from the Inner Belt. To go back with word that ‘everything is as it should be’ may not suffice.’

  ‘But that is the case. They must see that.’

  ‘They could choose not to.’

  ‘That is not just,’ said Johnson.

  No, no justice. Ambition, vanity, vicious questing for power. The Inner Belt as she knew it. Her curse was to have been part of it. Never again, she had sworn. So much for my oaths.

  Her laughter shocked the room. She shrugged off their affront. So now you see me as I really am.

  ‘We have done our job and we will continue to do it,’ stated Johnson. ‘We serve the Inner Belt, not some high born official or officer. We will make our case and stand by it.’

  ‘Then I advise you to greet that squadron immediately,’ said Celene. ‘Remove the element of surprise from their considerations. If nothing else it will delay conflict.’