The Return of the Grey

by Robert Lee Henry

  ‘The warning comes from my scout, the order from me.’ Quartermaine did not hide his anger.

  The tall aide replied. ‘Your scout. Returned from the deep, certainly, but in what condition? Ruined in mind and body. Only kept alive now by instruments and an artifice that deludes the few senses that he retains. Barely able to babble incoherently. Clearly not capable of rational thought or observation. How long has he been in this state? Long enough for his decline to occur. Months? Maybe longer.’

  The aide was the soul of reason, his words measured and mild. He is setting this up for Colda, La Mar fretted. The PlanCon Commander will make the accusation in plain words and use that as the basis for his challenge. An old man who can’t see what’s in front of his face, losing the Rim through lack of action, then overreacting to his fears to launch a massive strike against empty space.

  ‘The relationship between scout and commander is one of long standing in the Guard, older than most of the customs and practices you see around you. It has stood the test of time.’ Having directed those words to the audience as a whole Quartermaine then focused on the aide. ‘You are relatively new to the Guard. I put your lack of respect for this arrangement down to ignorance and inexperience. That will be remedied. You will fly scout for your commander on the sweep of the Gap Quadrant.’

  Ha, now you’ve been told, thought La Mar. The old chief is waking up!

  The aide turned to Colda, the attention of the hall following his expectant gaze. The PlanCon Commander basked in the notice. He did not rise. Sitting in the second to topmost row, he was able to look down on his tall associate. A smile came slowly to his face. ‘As the Commander says, the sweep of the Gap will be a learning experience for us all. I see no reason why you should not benefit from a personal lesson.’ Colda pointed the stunned aide to a seat then turned to Quartermaine. ‘I apologise for this digression. I believe your orders are not yet complete, Commander.’

  ‘Thank you, Commander Colda,’ said Quartermaine with a curt nod. ‘Third order of the day. The Amazons and the Greys are to carry out an inspection for arms violations in the Ag sector. La Mar to command. Transport and planetary craft only.’

  Shit, thought La Mar. Why do we get the crap?

  ‘And finally, a general order for all the other cadres,’ boomed Quartermaine. ‘Prepare to take part in a rotation through the Arm. Once it is known that Colda has taken our strength to the Gap, all the tin pot raiders in the sector will come out. We will be spread thin but that does not mean we can’t be effective. It may be a good chance to clear out that lot. Sub-commander Visco is in charge of this operation.’

  The old man has done it, smiled La Mar. As if there never was a challenge. Just work to be done.

  ‘Okay, you have your orders. I don’t believe I have left anyone out.’ He drew a laugh with that. ‘Commander Colda, Commander Coltrane, Alizane of the Blues and Elsewise the Scholar, if he so pleases, to me now in Debrief 1 for special orders. All marine sergeants, the Armourer and Commanders Johnson, Deacon and Oulte wait for me in Debrief 2. La Mar, you catch me after that.’ Quartermaine turned to the quiet man sitting beside him. ‘Visc, you want to take your lot here?’ At Visco’s nod, the old man called out, ‘Cadres to patrol the Arm check in here with Sub-commander Visco. All right. That should be it. We have work to do. Let’s get to it.’

  *

  Celene came out of the corner and walked along behind the top row of seats. Half the circumference of the hall and she was at the doors. She did not exit, her slow pace continuing to bring her around for another circuit. The loft of the hall aided her thought. Down near the front, Visco still held court, the cadre leaders clustered about him, their attention at times bringing a smile to his usually dour face. They are excited, like little boys, thought Celene. They are going to get to hunt bandits. The odds will not be all their way. Stretched thin to cover the entire Arm, they could be outnumbered on the rare occasions they were successful in intercepting raiders. That only makes it more appealing, she knew.

  Quartermaine had been masterful, any doubts as to his leadership blown away by his grim decisiveness. Everyone to work, some to their deaths, for sure, but that was the way of the Guard. It brought her mind back to their discussions on the roof, when the House schemes were first acknowledged. This was Johnson’s solution, though that good man might not recognise it now. To make the House faction part of the Guard by committing it to the work of the Guard. In time, the Guard would become their life. Celene knew this could happen. It had almost happened to her.

  Time. Quartermaine had bought it by giving the Houses everything they wanted. Placing Colda in command of the largest Battle Group out of Base in centuries more or less set the seal on his succession to overall command. A high price to pay for a few months. Maybe not long enough to affect Johnson’s solution but at least it removed the threat of direct House action for a while.

  She carefully removed her own solution from her fingertips. Med patches containing a variety of poisons, enough so that one was sure to beat Colda’s immunities. She had picked up the idea from Aesca. The medic had subdued Nata, something considered impossible, with a tranque patch on the end of a finger. Colda would have been much easier.

  If Colda had challenged Quartermaine, she would have confronted him, provoked him to strike in front of the full assembly. It might not have ended the House scheme, but it would have set them back and partly assuaged her sense of justice.

  The caretaker’s death had been too neat, not in the realities of the gory scene but in the resolution of the whole episode. She did not accept it. On the roof above the PlanCon offices, with PlanCon personnel involved. No, there is more to it. Colda must be part of it. Her gaze settled on Visco, down below. He was there also. Was he merely a tool of the faction or is he taking a more active role?

  She found herself back at the doors again. Time to leave. She had work of her own to do.

  CHAPTER 32: DEBRIEF 1

  Colda fell in step with Quartermaine. The old man acknowledged him with a nod. No words needed, thought Colda. We are equals now. He enjoyed the silence, broken only by the sound of their boots. Two men, two leaders marching to their destiny. No longer for him the constant nattering of aides, issuing orders veiled as advice, supposedly representing the collective wisdom and authority of the Houses. He did not need them. All their scheming and manipulation was unnecessary. All that the Houses wished for had been granted. To him, on his own merit!

  The largest battle group the Guard has sent out in recent history ... under my command. Larger than Burnett’s. Possibly the largest in thousands of years!

  ‘Once it is known that Colda has taken our strength to the Gap,’ Quartermaine had said. The words had sent a thrill through him. Soon all the universe would hear. Rivals back in the Houses would seethe with jealousy or tremble with fear. His father would be proud.

  Attributes that in the past had been considered his failings were now shown truly as his strengths. When Quartermaine had locked eyes with him across the hall, he had felt their bond. We both have the resolve to send men to their deaths to accomplish our ends. Here in the Guard we have the men to serve us. There is nothing we can not achieve. Here is where I belong.

  The others Quartermaine had summoned were waiting for them when they entered the debrief room. Coltrane and the Gold … so that was who this Alizane was. It was hard to mistake him with those garish shoulder patches. Colda felt a thrill of anticipation. With that one involved, this special order must be something deadly. And standing quietly, the Scholar. An envoy of my true enemy. Ha, observe and report. Let them know that Colda is coming!

  *

  Elsewise bowed across the room to the commanders in response to Quartermaine’s nod. Colda returned a half bow complete with an aristocratic hand flourish. He is in fine humour, thought Elsewise. And why not, everything the Houses scheme for has almost been achieved. But ‘almost’ is a terrible word. Quartermaine will teach them its true meaning.

  When view
ed with the orders of the day, his own request did not appear extreme yet he could not relieve himself of a sense of guilt. Nata had assured him that this man was capable, that he could succeed and in the process find his true path. But his small friend was like Quartermaine. That death was the most likely outcome did not deter them.

  The Commander waved them all to seats. ‘The order I’ve called you here for has arisen from a special request from the Inner Belt. They want more information on the Ships. The Scholar, here, who has made a life study of the Ships, believes we can assist. He will explain further.’

  The curt introduction did not faze Elsewise. He did not expect more from Quartermaine. Nor from Colda, sitting close beside the Commander, only half his attention on the gathering. Lost in dreams of greatness, Elsewise suspected. The Scholar turned his regard to the Blues. These were the ones his theories would impact on. The disappointment on Coltrane’s face showed that the Blue Commander had hoped for something else, possibly a rescission or qualification on the order that placed him under Colda. A flash of interest in the Gold’s eyes gave Elsewise hope.

  ‘There has been no ‘face-to-face’ communication with the beings of the Ships in all the years of our contact.’ Elsewise stood to continue. The chair was uncomfortable for one of his height. ‘It appears that we must accept that this state will continue. In light of this, a series of tests have been devised in order to evaluate their behaviour. These require engagements of a small number of our craft with similar sized groups of Ships.’ He drew a display disc from his pocket and passed it to the Blue Commander. ‘The manoeuvres to be carried out are set out in these data sets. One of your craft will be modified to record and transmit data from the encounters.’ He stopped speaking to allow the two Blues to view the images.

  ‘In addition to the actions that are required for combat, the beings of the Ships have exhibited behaviour that we interpret to represent curiosity, playfulness, bravery and respect. The longest contacts have been those we term flying contests. Our data suggests that these situations offer the most potential for an exchange of ideas, a common ground, so to speak, where we may learn more about each other.’ In the brief time he had, Elsewise knew he could not convince these men of the tremendous worth of what he was asking them to do, to become peaceful emissaries between beings. A chance only, but of such staggering import. It would have to be done Quartermaine’s way, as an order. ‘You will see that the latter tests involve one craft only.’ He ended lamely, ‘This craft will have to match the Ships in skill.’

  ‘Little chance of that,’ said the Gold. ‘With the added weight and drain of sensors and transmitters, I won’t come close.’

  The Gold was perceptive. He had recognised his role in the proposal.

  ‘You will be lighter,’ corrected Quartermaine. ‘The sensors go on in place of the weapon systems. That means all your power will be available for manoeuvring and speed.’

  ‘Why don’t you just shoot me now,’ said the Gold tossing the disc onto the table.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ countered Quartermaine. ‘You don’t like contests where you don’t hold the edge?’

  ‘Don’t push me!’ said the Gold.

  ‘Push you.’ Quartermaine’s voice swelled. ‘I don’t push you. I order you!’ His finger stabbed at the Gold’s shoulder. ‘Nata has paid for that patch. His failing, not yours, he says. We will see. I will have your full measure in this.’

  Coltrane put his hands up for calm. ‘This is hard. This is death we’re talking about here. How can you go up against the Ships without armament? How can we ask that of our people?’

  ‘I believe that the beings of the Ships will recognise the pilot’s skill, that they value it highly, perhaps above all else,’ answered Elsewise. ‘Without weapons, both can survive the contest.’

  ‘Why don’t you do it then?’ said the Gold.

  ‘I don’t have the ability,’ Elsewise answered.

  ‘You and the Grey are the only two who might do it,’ said Quartermaine, pointing again. ‘And I don’t want the Grey anywhere near the Ships yet. That leaves you, Alizane.’

  Quartermaine turned to Colda beside him. ‘Commander Colda, this is the only order of mine that will impinge on your command. If you contact Ships, give the Blues the opportunity to try these manoeuvres as long as it doesn’t compromise your mission.’ He paused to stare at Alizane. ‘Let the Gold go as far as his nerve will carry him.’ Quartermaine rose. ‘The marines and the Far Rangers have priority on the hangars and pads. They should be off tomorrow. Stage your Group up as you see fit, but have them lifted and on the way before the week is out. Daily reports through relays as standard.’ He surveyed the room but did not ask for further comment. ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’

  In the silence that followed the Commander’s departure, Elsewise’s sense of guilt returned. ‘We can review the manoeuvres, eliminate as much danger as possible,’ he offered the Blues.

  The Gold leaned all the way back in his chair, letting his head loll and his arms hang. Resigned indifference, thought Elsewise. But Coltrane nodded and pulled the disc across.

  ‘I’ll need to know what you want to achieve with each set of manoeuvres,’ said the Blue Commander. ‘Up there, things have a way of changing. And we’ll need cut-off points. Where we can see we’re done or not progressing. So we can give battle or bugger off.’

  The Gold turned his head to give his commander a disgusted look.

  ‘What?’ asked Coltrane with a smile. ‘Would you rather go to the Rim with Oulte? At least here you have a chance.’

  CHAPTER 33: DEBRIEF 2

  ‘He sure sorted out the cadres, not so good for your lot though, Oulte.’ The fair-haired man shrugged and smiled, his reply halted by Quartermaine’s entry. The speaker, Sergeant Delaney, turned around following Oulte’s eyes. He continued unashamedly. ‘Nothing to fly up there, Commander. You got the ground and that spinning crap above, and sometimes not even that. We might have room to push their craft along but that’s about it.’

  ‘Let Oulte worry about it. You’ll have enough to push on your own,’ said Quartermaine. ‘We need mag cannons on the ground. Tommo and Seca proved that. The cannons will be mounted on mobile armour but a sealed engine doesn’t last long up there. You’ll be pushing them before the end.’

  He pulled a chair out from the closest table, spun it and straddled to sit with his arms resting on the back. The other men were scattered through the room, some sat at the tables, a few leaned on them, and a couple, including Tollen, were pacing. Quartermaine felt no need to sit them down. He was relaxed with this group. Strange, he thought. This is the action that matters.

  ‘We can’t lose the Rim.’ That was as much of an explanation as he would offer these men for the sacrifices he was demanding. He knew that they wouldn’t need to ask for more. That was why he was at ease. ‘It’s not the old push and shove up there. This is something new.’ He propped his chin on his hands on the chair back. ‘The second contingent hasn’t just been hanging on. They’ve been running scouts and observation posts. No need to say how hard this has been but without that intelligence we wouldn’t have a hope, no matter what numbers we put on the Rim.’ Quartermaine tilted his head on the fulcrum of his hands to pick out the Armourer. ‘Tell them the bad news.’

  The Armourer spoke from his chair. ‘The enemy is on the Rim in force. Expect to be outnumbered ten to one. Their combat troops are well trained and show some battle experience, House auxiliaries and mercenaries, we think. Their armament is equal to our own, their supply better than anything we have been able to achieve.’

  ‘We can take mercs at ten to one, even with the supply disadvantage,’ said Delaney.

  ‘We can carry more,’ offered one of the other sergeants, looking to Johnson for confirmation.

  The Armourer continued. ‘It gets worse. They appear to be able to move through the Rim at will. Somehow they have learned to predict which areas are opening up and for how long. This has given them a terrific adv
antage. The marines haven’t been outfought but they have been outmanoeuvred constantly.’

  Quartermaine cut in to voice everyone’s thoughts. ‘Outnumbered, out-supplied and outmanoeuvred. Can’t win. We have to change all, or some of that. So that’s why the Rangers are going up. If we can get above the battlefields, our aircraft will balance their numbers, and if we can fly further we get the intelligence we need to counter their movements.’ Quartermaine lifted his head to find Oulte. ‘Also, they are supplying through the back of the Rim somehow. If your ships can find their base or bases, we have a chance to cut that off.’

  ‘Lot of ‘ifs’, said Oulte. ‘The Rim is not a good place for ‘ifs’. I been there a few times, flying you guys in during the older campaigns. I didn’t like touching down at the edge, never mind further in. The fields are wild. You have to fly on propulsion all the time and have a bit to spare to fight the fields. Further in, well, you’d be on the deck; you think you might have some room but the fields can just reach down and suck you up. You can’t go slow and careful.’ Oulte saw his words had laid a pall on the room. ‘But the Far Rangers,’ he said cheerfully, ‘don’t know about slow and careful anyhow. Them other fellas, they did something on the Rim that surprised us. It’s our turn to surprise them.’

  That was enough to bring a smile to most of the men in the room. Quartermaine wasn’t smiling though. He had one more battle to go through today and it was getting closer.

  ‘Johnson and Deacon, you are here because we plan to put teams from Supply and Services on the Rim. We’ve never done it before. The marines usually look after themselves. But all marines will be front line this time. It’s the best we can do against the numbers we have to face. Deacon, we need six crews from Services to lay cable, on foot. There are a few marines that have done it up in Med. Talk to them. See how they went about it. Do better if you can. Get all the gear you need and get it on the transports. You’ll have to work out any changes on the way. If Oulte can’t find much sky, this will let us get a comm net out at least.