The Return of the Grey

by Robert Lee Henry

  ‘She sat there and gave me orders.’ The commander pointed forward at the dusty track as though the Specialist was seated in front of them. ‘Couched as advice but I know an order when I hear one. ‘Give PlanCon back to the Planetary Council. Advise that with the Ship threat over it has been deemed unnecessary to maintain so large a force on Base. That Base’s function is to guard the Passages and that only. They will read a self-chastisement in that statement that should go some way toward limiting their umbrage over the events in the Agricultural Sector.’ See I remember every word. ‘Umbrage’. What do I care about their bloody umbrage?’

  Quartermaine dipped his head then shook it. His quick angry steps lifted dust from the plain. The pace allowed Elsewise to stride comfortably, staff swinging.

  ‘Colda’s ashes are to go back with an honour guard,’ continued Quartermaine. ‘With our commiserations and a note that the time he won with his death was critical in averting conflict with the Ships and the disaster that would have ensued. How do you like that? The idiot tries to kill his commander in battle and we send him back with flowers. And the thanks of the Inner Belt.’

  Clever of her but I would expect no less, thought Elsewise. Why make enemies for yourself when you can make them for others? One House appearing to profit from the failure of their scheme would attract the enmity of the remainder.

  ‘Well, they can have Colda anyway they like. And I’m glad to get rid of PlanCon. Never trusted them. But the rest of this…?’ The old man kicked a stone from their path. ‘There’s little life left in her, only duty. When people are like that they tend to throw their lives away. I don’t know enough about the Inner Belt to know if this is the only way.’

  This was the reason why the commander had asked him to accompany him to Tracka-dan’s. It was also the reason why he had accepted. He must convince Quartermaine not to disturb Celene’s plan. If the Guard interfered, Base would be lost. ‘I concur with the Specialist. There is no other way to save Base. Opposing the fleet, granting the Ships passage. On their own either act is damning, together they warrant annihilation. Such presumption is not to be tolerated. Base and all those associated it would be destroyed. And so they will be, unless no presumption can be shown to have occurred.

  ‘The Specialist is crucial to this artifice. It can be argued that during these events Celestene D’Auvinery Celerion represented the Inner Belt, therefore all acts carried out at her direction express the will of the Inner Belt. Acceptance of this scenario depends on the continuation of the role she played in the courts. Execution of a successful scheme causing damage to her competitors, regardless of distance or duration, suffices. This is the main occupation of the ascendant lines after all and it outweighs local considerations. It is understandable to those in power.’

  ‘They acknowledge her identity,’ said Quartermaine. ‘She can’t continue her line, not after the travel out here. Why can’t she stay?’

  ‘The culmination of her efforts requires her re-emergence at court,’ explained Elsewise. ‘If she does not return, the scenario will not be believed or will be considered to be ongoing and of such threat that remedial action is required.’

  ‘How is that?’ asked Quartermaine.

  Elsewise appreciated the commander’s confusion. The intrigues of the ascendant lines were complex and often illogical. ‘Revenge was considered to have been her motivation in the past. She was the last in the courts with Auvinery blood and her actions were largely at the cost of her own line, the Celerion. However, it can not be said that no one profited. Indeed, many believe that the whole Inner Belt has been better off. The rule of the Bisegna has been a time of enlightenment and stability. By blunting the aspirations of the leading lines, Celene has probably added decades to their reign. This latest act continues that contribution. The demise of the Donnellian not only completes her vendetta but also terminates a new thrust for power.’

  ‘But this Donnellian, she could not have planned that,’ objected Quartermaine.

  ‘Facts known to us preclude it yet that is not how it will be perceived by most of the court. The more fantastic and impossible it appears, the more it will be accepted. An intricate plot carried out by the Celerion under the auspices of the Bisegna.’ Elsewise glanced around him, at the grey plain and the far off grey walls. ‘That belief will protect Base. Her presence also ratifies your decision to allow the Ships to use the Outer Passages. Indeed, the decision will be credited to the Bisegna, typical of their rational prescience.’

  ‘But the Bisegna know she is not theirs,’ said Quartermaine.

  ‘They will tolerate her activities as long as they profit from them. The illusion that they can anticipate, and control, events as distant as the edge of the universe is as valuable to them as the elimination of potential rivals. This illusion requires Celestene D’Auvinery Celerion to re-appear at court. If she does not, motives other than revenge will be considered and prime among them will be ascendancy. A threat to the Bisegna themselves.’

  They walked on in silence, the commander’s objections met for a time. Tracka-dan’s farm came into sight, the differing shades of green a pleasant contrast to the grey of the plain. The grey-green of Nowra’s young trees behind seemed to Elsewise like an artist’s attempt to blend the two.

  ‘Would she be able to come back?’ asked Quartermaine.

  ‘I believe not,’ he answered.

  CHAPTER 114: KINDRED SPIRITS ON THE ROOF

  ‘I would not go back, not for any reason,’ said Trahern.

  ‘You compare the courts to the Games?’ asked Celene.

  ‘Yes.’

  The joy of a conversation with the Grey, thought Celene. Few wasted words. She had a sudden wish that she could stay and study him. A wish she quickly converted to a regret and banished from her mind.

  He had found her on the roof, in Nata’s garden. A training ground the others called it, but she knew the setting for what it was. She had only meant to stop briefly, a short time to consider the man who had given his life for hers. But the tranquillity and sad beauty of the place had slowed her steps and allowed memories to flow around her like the lines in the sand. How long she stood on the edge of this strange sea she did not know. The Grey, when he had first approached, came so gracefully and quietly that she had thought him a recollection come to join the others.

  ‘You do not believe that I want to go back?’ she asked.

  ‘I do not,’ he answered.

  I must work on that. The Grey will respect my decision but others might not. It is the only hope for Base and it must occur without incident.

  The wall was too high for her to see over and it frustrated her. The Grey placed a wooden box alongside and handed her up. She looked out over the plain. Close to the wall to her left the ground was crowded with the silver shapes of fighter craft, the Group processing into the hangars. A great event, the passage of the Ships. The most significant development in the universe for millennia according to Elsewise. It meant nothing to her other than people she cared for lived.

  She lifted her eyes from the bustle of the hangars and swept them over the quiet grey plain. The green of Tracka-dan’s farm was there and beyond it the dark patch of the Box. She had visited both. The Box was now a low rise of fused metal, smooth with a dark sheen in which peacock colours played as if there was still life in it. Dan’s grave was flat and there was no doubt that he was gone. So much was lost. She had stood by the fence where Spence had first placed his hand on her hip to steady her, so long ago. She didn’t have the courage to climb it.

  ‘I can take you away.’ Trahern’s words merged with her thoughts. ‘Anywhere.’

  ‘There is no anywhere for me, anymore,’ she said.

  ‘I could take you deep,’ he offered. ‘Where they couldn’t follow. Until they forget you.’

  He doesn’t understand; that is his tragedy. She turned from the wall to study him. Trahern was raking the sand, a new pattern yet also one of long flowing lines. Maybe I underestimate him. Once the deep
was the greatest threat in his life. Now he offers to go there. Were my words so effective or is there more? Could he want to go back? No. No more than I to the courts. Sacrifice for the good of Base motivates both our proposals. Is there more that is alike? I do not want to go but I do not feel that I can stay. He has lost one close to him also. ‘Briodi was to have been my successor,’ she said. ‘Now they will have to wait for Sanseen. In time he will be as good.’

  ‘He knows the Rim,’ agreed Trahern.

  Even now he avoids mention of her. Celene leaned toward him and almost lost her balance on the box. ‘Briodi. Tell me about her.’

  The tall man stopped his raking. She waited. She would not leave until this was done. He would know that.

  ‘She saved the scout and he saved the Ships, and most of us. That battle would have been bitter.’

  ‘Did she save you, Trahern?’

  ‘No. You did.’

  That settled her back on her heels but only for a moment. ‘Then what was she to you?’ Again she waited.

  ‘She was the promise of a whole life. Everything.’

  Like my Spence. So far beyond my expectations. So far past what I deserved. We are alike, the Grey and I.

  Now he waited on her while she dragged out the silence. Her professional advice should be to tell him that it could happen again. To cherish the memories yet carry on in hope. She could not do it.

  ‘Sanseen needs experience with the cadres. Take him with you when you root out the renegades. Will you do that for me, Commander? Before you go on to other things.’

  ‘Yes.’

  They both smiled. Smiles Peg would know, she thought.

  She jumped down off the box. Into memories again; Nata making her jump from the wall where Donen was killed; the smell of blood on the night air; a bed and a chair in Med; Spence stepping between. Good and bad, she waded through them stolidly and came out the other side.

  ‘Come along Commander. I need to pick something up from Supply and your presence will deter attempts at conversation.’

  She waited while he completed his last strokes and returned the rake to a rack. He walked around to join her, careful not to disturb his work. The pattern he had created in the sand was as intricate and flowing as one of his weavings, like those Bethane and La Mar wore in their hair, Aesca on a chain between her breasts. She had been illogically jealous of them. No longer. This one was for her. She could read the vast sweep of the deep, the swirl of the Passages, and the braided strength of the Guard. Cupped within the heart of the pattern he had preserved the lonely trail of her footprints. In time the light winds of the planet would smooth it or sooner perhaps it would be trampled, yet for a time her mark would lie on Base.

  CHAPTER 115: WORKING AT TRACKA-DAN’S

  Quartermaine tapped once with the sledge to fix his aim then belted the sill a mighty blow. ‘There. Hard and fast. That’s how you do it.’ A clean parting was his reward, where the new work joined the old, a crack only millimetres wide but many centimetres deep.

  ‘I think you should hit it harder,’ said Thomas.

  ‘You could send him after the renegades, as Commander Johnson was doing,’ said Bethane.

  His answer to both of them was a grunt and another swing of the hammer. He had brought Elsewise out to Tracka-dan’s to see Johnson but had come also for a little peace. All of the cadre leaders had been at him. All but the Blues, that is. To pardon the Gold. Do something other than execute him. It could not be done.

  He stepped to the side and glared back to make sure everyone was clear then swung hard at the centre. A section a full twenty centimetres thick broke off across the complete width and slid out to fall on the veranda. Quartermaine caught Thomas’ eye and pointed with the hammer head at his work. The old serviceman shook his head. Quartermaine turned back and tapped the top of the broken stonework close to the right side of the opening.

  He spoke over his shoulder. ‘He did not refuse Commander Johnson’s order. He refused mine.’

  ‘But you let the Ships pass,’ said Bethane.

  Another hard blow, another crack. ‘Immaterial. Could have been battle. You know how close we were.’ He thought that he would be having this conversation with La Mar. Tracka-dan’s was crowded, Johnson, Thomas, Gati, Bethane, old Nowra, even Peg, but no La Mar. No Trahern either and that was strange because Gati stuck close to his commander. He slid the sledge to the floor and leaned on the handle.

  ‘Where’s La Mar?’ he asked of Bethane.

  ‘She’s up in Med with Rhone.’

  ‘And where’s your boss?’ he asked Gati.

  ‘He’s gone to see the Specialist.’

  Quartermaine spun back to the enlarged window. There were craft out on the pads near the hangars. He ducked to look for a streak in the sky.

  ‘He can do amazing things but that is beyond even him,’ said Johnson from a chair by a small table on the far side of the room. ‘She intends to leave tomorrow, to take that fleet back to the Inner Belt. That is what she will do.’

  ‘Gati,’ Quartermaine demanded.

  The quick Grey smiled, lifted his hands and tipped his head to the side. Not denying anything. ‘It is good for him to talk to her no matter what. She has always been good for him,’ said Gati

  ‘Possibly her best work, within the bounds of her profession that is,’ offered Elsewise.

  Well, that is all I know of her. My specialist. The other is just fairytales. He couldn’t deny that there was probably some basis of fact in them. He knew her well enough for that. Lose her to a fairytale though, I don’t know. Not enough out there for a life.

  ‘Her time here makes amends for whatever she had done before. If she can go back we should be happy for her,’ said Johnson.

  Quartermaine wasn’t the only one that shook their head at that. All we earn here is the respect of our comrades. That’s all you need. How is she going to live without that?

  ‘Let me have that hammer,’ said Thomas coming past. ‘You have the right idea here, but you are bit slow getting to it.’ He twisted his trunk back to the room. ‘Sure you want this out, ‘cause I’m not going to play with it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Gati, nodding his head for emphasis. ‘Dan built it to be open. To let the light and air in. It is beautiful work. That other is poor and rushed. When he was afraid. We can’t leave his house like that.’

  ‘The Rangers are fine with it. The changes I mean. I saw the way it was at first and Gati is right,’ said Nowra. The old Ranger had been quiet until now, standing by the open door, his back to them. ‘She was out here this morning, you know. Early. Came from over by the Box. What’s left of it I mean. Didn’t come up to the house. Was by the fence for awhile then by Tracka-dan’s grave.’ The old man turned back to the room. ‘I thought maybe I should have called to her. Asked her in for coffee. Early like that there is a chill and coffee is fine for it. But I didn’t.’

  ‘No matter, Nowra. She knows her mind. Probably wanted the time to herself,’ said Johnson.

  ‘She wasn’t alone,’ piped up Peg from the broken window ledge.

  On his way out, thought Quartermaine. To who knows where. Couldn’t use the door. That makes too much sense.

  ‘You were there Peg?’ asked Thomas.

  ‘I was watching.’

  Don’t get him started. Everyone knew that Peg thought he could see ghosts. Thomas spurned the idea yet at the same time seemed intrigued by it. Leave it you old fool.

  ‘I heard that she chased all the marines off,’ said Gati.

  ‘Sent the squad back to training. Said she didn’t need them anymore,’ agreed Peg from the veranda. ‘Scolds anyone she catches near.’ He poked his head back in the opening to mark the seriousness of that. ‘Best to keep your distance.’

  Not frightened of anything on the Rim yet he walks a wide circle around her. The Guard is getting stranger everyday. I’m too old for this, thought Quartermaine.

  ‘So it must have been quite a trip for you this morning,’ said Thomas.


  ‘Twice as far for her. Her steps are so small,’ said Peg.

  ‘What about the others?’ asked Thomas.

  ‘Walking doesn’t tire them,’ answered Peg.

  Have to end this. No good encouraging him. Talking to ghosts. Damn. My scout talked to the Ships and now he is gone. Went with them with my blessing to a new galaxy. The Specialist talked to the Inner Belt and now she has to go. The scout a Ship and Celene an ascendant. Both saved Base but both are lost. ‘Peg. Don’t become a ghost.’

  The strange marine nodded and then was gone.

  ‘Did a piece of this stone hit you when I wasn’t looking?’ asked Thomas.

  ‘Good advice for all of us,’ said Johnson. ‘Not before our time, that is. Not such a bad notion after that, the way Peg sees it that is. Gentle ghosts come to keep their friends company.’

  ‘Old Tracka-dan thought that we came back as Ships,’ said Nowra. ‘It’s an old Ranger idea. All the best of us in them. It’s good that we didn’t have to fight them again. You did a good thing letting them pass, Commander. To let them go.’

  Let them go. That’s all I do now.

  ‘Them that takes exception to it can get stuffed,’ completed Nowra.

  ‘You’ll explain if need be, Scholar?’ asked Johnson.

  ‘Yes, Commander,’ said Elsewise. ‘The action was carried out in the best interests of the Inner Belt. The passage of the Ships will be seen as one of the great events of the millennia. All of Base is to be congratulated.’

  ‘You are just happy that your study can be completed,’ said Gati.

  ‘Yes and no, young Chiatos. There will be no new data but what we have will keep us occupied for many years. I say us because I also must return to the Inner Belt.’

  That’s how dumb I am lately, Quartermaine upbraided himself. Didn’t think of that. Of course he goes back. He is Inner Belt same as her.

  The Scholar turned to him and broke the silence. ‘The whole of the universe owes a debt to you.’