Ends, Means, Laws and an Angry Ship

by Lyn Gala

  ENDS, MEANS, LAWS, AND AN ANGRY SHIP

  Lyn Gala

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Ends, Means, Laws and an Angry Ship

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Lyn Gala

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  Ends, Means, Laws, and an Angry Ship

  Copyright © January 2019 by Lyn Gala

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distibuted in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  Editor: Sue Laybourn

  Published in the United States of America

  This book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Author’s Note

  I have been incredibly blessed by supportive readers throughout my career. From Susan who wrote the first feedback I ever got back when I started in fanfic to Sarah and Hunter who have unflaggingly supported my publishing and moving into self-publishing, I have a community behind me. I wouldn’t be able to write without them. Mandy cheers me on no matter how much I lose the path, and she’s awesome at pointing out my many grammar mistakes. Shin builds up my ego when my insecurities take over (and nags me to try new things, like audio). They are the rock I stand on (or rocks, maybe). Alexis, Maryam, Emma, Jeanette, Sarah and Beth support every rough draft and false start. Jean, Aurelie, Mandy, and Nanette rolled up their sleeves and helped edit the final drafts, and Sue—editor extraordinaire—did the final polish. And that’s not even counting the people who commented on the rough chapter by chapter: Ingeborg, Jennifer, Nanette, Mandy, Sarah, Blue, Avalie, Corinna and so many more. Without these folks, Lyn Gala wouldn’t have survived the vagaries of publishing. She would have become a wistful dream in the back of an old history teacher’s mind—a wish for what might have been. But you and all the readers who leave reviews and buy books and check them out from libraries are the magic that has breathed life into my dream. Thank you.

  Chapter One

  A BLAST SLAMMED THE hull, throwing Tyce against the flight harness so hard his shoulders ached. “Report!”

  “Concussion shielding is fractured.” Ralie’s voice cracked. He was too damn young to hold down a position in logistics. Tyce regretted sending the primaries off-shift, but this had seemed like an empty bit of space. “Another concussive hit and our hull will be breached,” Ralie added.

  “Weapons?” he asked Ama.

  “Still no lock,” she said. “I’m only getting vague readings on the enemy. At this distance, if I fire, I’ll waste ordnance on empty space.”

  Since that was the general direction their own ship had been heading before getting ambushed, Tyce would’ve preferred to avoid sending explosives careening into space to function like mines. Navigating through a war zone was hazardous, and he had been looking forward to flying without fear of running into the abandoned remains of war.

  “Options?” Tyce asked. The crew went ominously silent. That scared him more than any weapon. He’d grown to rely on the people around him. They'd been together since his February from hell. They had survived countless battles and pirates, and they would survive this. He glanced around the bridge. “Anyone?”

  Ama spoke. “There are no asteroids to hide behind, no anomalous space to distort the energy weapon, no ships in the area, other than the Command ship chasing us. Since this unknown enemy is willing to fire on them, hiding behind Command would only delay our destruction a few minutes.”

  “Ama, I count on you to bring something positive to the table.”

  She pulled her gray hair back and refastened her clip. “I am positive we are screwed.”

  Tyce turned to Ralie. “Hyperdrive engines? How soon until we get them back?” Others might quote some long-dead Spartan saying about how warriors should come back with their shields, or upon them. Tyce preferred the saying, “He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.”

  Ralie’s news was not good. “Ninety to a hundred and ten minutes for hyperdrive.”

  Tyce ran his fingers through his hair. “Send the surrender again.”

  Jerry spoke up, “I already did. Twice.”

  “No response?”

  “None. Maybe they think we’re with the Command ship. Maybe they’ll keep firing on us as long as those morons keep firing on them.”

  Tyce questioned that logic. No matter how alien, the creatures should've recognized a pursuit. Command had chased them into hyperspace over and over until the Dragon’s engines were running dangerously hot.

  “Maybe this is some alien species Earth has managed to piss off.” Ama suggested.

  “If we're using Command language maybe they think we are Command,” Tyce said. “Let's send our surrender in an alternate language and see if they’ll listen. What do we have on board?”

  “We have Dele’epay sign, and Carlton speaks some Coptic language.”

  “Send our surrender in those.” Tyce unbuckled his restraint and stood.

  “Could they be Rownt?” Ralie asked.

  “Why would turtles shoot us out of space?” Ama asked in her gentle tone that meant she considered it a moral obligation to lead some idiot to realize the depth of his own stupidity. Tyce had been her victim often enough to recognize the voice.

  Ralie appeared on the edge of panic. “Maybe we’re encroaching on their territory.”

  The latest intelligence they’d stolen from Command suggested that the Rownt were technologically advanced and dangerous. Tyce wasn’t even surprised Command had mishandled one more alien contact; however, nothing he’d read suggested Rownt would attack without warning.

  Ama moved toward Ralie and rested her long fingers on his shoulder with that aura she had when she was in her full spiritual Amali Ahinza mode. However, she looked toward Tyce, so she shared his concern, even if she was wiser than to say it aloud under these circumstances.

  Tyce needed to project calm and authority. “Command intelligence says the only territory the Rownt care about is their home planet. Earth ships have traipsed all over that quadrant of space, and the Rownt never even twitched. Hell, Command didn’t
realize the ships they kept catching on the edge of their sensors were Rownt. So the turtles didn’t defend shipping lanes or open fire without provocation.” The lift door opened and the primary shift leader stood in the opening with a confused expression.

  “But things have changed now.” Ralie’s voice rose.

  He was right. The Rownt alliance with Earth had destroyed the free alliance of colonies. At one point, Tyce had believed the universe would return to being fair if only the rebels stopped siding with terrorists and Command started caring more about people than money. Now Tyce wasn’t sure which side embraced evil with more fervor. However, with an unknown enemy taking turns firing on the Command ship and the Dragon, Tyce didn’t have time to worry about philosophical questions.

  “Phemos is here. He’ll take logistics,” Amali said. She tugged on Ralie’s arm to get him to abandon his post. For a second he stared at her as though unable to process the words. She tugged again, and he unbuckled his restraints and stood. Phemos quickly took the seat and Amali gave the boy a nudge toward the lift.

  “Ama?” Tyce jerked his head toward the tiny office near the bridge. He appreciated her efforts to provide spiritual comfort, but he needed his gunner and tactical second. She nodded and headed that way.

  Tyce paused next to the navigation station. “Barr, move toward the enemy ship. Start at full slow and increase one percent per thirty seconds.” The bridge went silent. No one moved, no harness jingled. It sounded like they had all stopped breathing.

  “And if they fire on us?” Barr asked.

  “They’ve always taken at least twelve minutes between firings. I’m guessing that’s a technical limitation on the weapon.”

  “You’re gambling a lot on a guess,” Barr said with a sigh, “but this isn’t even half as crazy as some of your other plans.”

  Tyce ignored the implicit criticism of his leadership. If they didn’t like how he ran the ship, they could vote him out. This wasn’t a military ship. When Tyce ducked into his office, Ama had already claimed his seat. She watched the technical data on the screen, her chin propped up on her hand. She projected calm, but she had to be worried, if not for her own mortal body then for her grandchildren, most of whom were on the ship.

  “I have an idea, but the parents won’t like it.” Tyce found that direct and factual worked best with Ama . Because she was so spiritual and much more emotional than he was used to from the military personnel he had trained with, he hadn’t understood that about her at first. But now he knew that he needed to convince her with facts—data—mathematical realities that would fit in her targeting computers.

  “If this ship is holding the pattern, we've got about two more rounds and twenty-one minutes before they blast through our concussion shielding. The parents are already unhappy. So what's plan B?”

  He sank into his chair. “We’re already on plan S.”

  “Twenty-and-one-half minutes,” Ama said. “So what’s plan T?”

  This was an empty sector with nowhere to run and nothing to hide behind, just three ships trying to blast each other to pieces. That was precisely why Tyce had chosen this sector to escape the reach of Command now that the war was over. He knew what the aftermath of wars looked like, and he knew how much Command wanted his hide. So he’d needed a part of space where no one would search for them, and this bit of territory had fit the bill.

  “Tyce,” Ama said softly. “What should we do if they don't accept our surrender? There's nowhere to put our people.”

  That was true enough. The Command ship was already leaking atmosphere, so they couldn't send any survivors over there. Hell, the only ship that wasn't damaged was their alien attacker. Considering that the Dragon couldn’t land a single shot, Tyce got some satisfaction out of the fact that the Dragon was holding her own better than the Command ship. “You won’t like it,” he warned her.

  “Oh, great universe. I recognize that look.”

  “The parents will loathe my plan,” he warned. The worst part of captaining the Dragon was knowing that he had children relying on his good judgment, and Tyce wouldn’t have had a price on his head if he had even one ounce of common sense.

  “We’re stuck between an unknown alien ship and Command. So whatever crazy idea you're planning, it can't be worse than the status quo.”

  Tyce braced himself for a tongue-lashing. “I've ordered us to move toward the aliens.”

  Ama frowned. “Are you looking to make the end come quicker?” She didn’t even object on those grounds, which terrified him.

  “Given the strength of their concussive weapons, I'm not sure it matters if we’re closer or not. Another couple of hits and we’ll bleed atmosphere as bad as the Command ship.” And after that, death would be slow and tortuous as the carbon dioxide scrubbers failed.

  “I hate that logic, but I can't argue against it. But I know you. You have some crazy plan.”

  “We’re sending our surrender in alternate languages. If we’re closer, they may take that as a willingness to deliver ourselves to them.” Tyce hoped they would. He would rather be a prisoner with all his people alive than a hero who had to preside over the end of life ceremonies for people he knew.

  “And if they don't?”

  “I want our frontline fighters on the Classe shuttles. Find every heavy weapon on the ship and get it into those three shuttles.”

  She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “Why? Who do you want to raid? The Command ship looks worse than we do.”

  “I know. There's only one place where we can put boots on solid decking.”

  Despite the tight timeline, Ama stared at him for a good thirty seconds. Twice her mouth came open and closed before she found her voice. “You plan to take the alien ship.”

  “That would be plan T. Yes.” Tyce held his breath. These people had asked him to lead the ship, but he wasn’t family. Ama was. One word from her and the crew would hold the universe’s fastest recall election.

  “How do we even get close to them?” Ama asked, which was more support than he’d expected, given that this plan was insane.

  “If they don't accept our surrender, I want to punch the engines. I want the Dragon flying straight at that alien ship with everything she has in her engines.”

  “A suicide run?”

  “Hopefully not. Plan T involves having every person on a shuttle or pod. Pull every resource you can, and the resources that don't fit, package into parcels and drop into space so that we can pick them up if we manage to take over the alien ship. We let the Dragon take the heavy ordnance and then our fighters breach the alien ship. Family pods can float in behind the assault.”

  Again, she stared at him as precious seconds ticked away. Tyce was glad he already had the Dragon heading toward the enemy, because they were running out of time. “You don't even know if the aliens breathe oxygen,” she said.

  “I know that Earthers, Anla, Imshee and Rownt all have similar atmospheric requirements. That means there’s a good chance that we’ll find an oxygen atmosphere. But have the breach teams carry respirators and whatever tech is required to switch life-support to oxygen-carbon standard.”

  “You mean that if we have to, we exterminate every alien on the ship by destroying their atmosphere?”

  “If we have to, yes. They attacked us. We have every right to fight for our survival.” Tyce said, although the aliens were far more likely to kill the advance teams than get slaughtered. This whole thing was a Hail Mary times a thousand.

  “I’m not worried about their souls,” Ama said, “They chose to open fire first, so they can tend to their own spiritual needs. But any alien race that is sophisticated enough to create that ship is also advanced enough to kick our asses.”

  “Maybe that's true. But, if the Dragon is aimed at them, the law of mass and velocity requires them to focus on her. They won’t see us flying in the ship’s wake. If they haven't seen this sort of Trojan horse before, there's a chance that we could get on that ship.” Tyce didn’
t go as far as to claim they had good odds to claim it, but the boarding crews would be desperate to clear the decks for their families, and desperate people could do the impossible. The colonies had proved that over and over.

  Ama rubbed her forehead. “I wish I could argue with you, but you're right. The parents will see that you're doing everything you can to save the children.” She reached for him. When he took her hand, she squeezed it. “Even after all these years, you still expect us to see the worst in you, and none of us do.”

  “I haven't told you the part parents will hate. I want the kids and only the kids under ten on the Turtle,” he said. It was their most heavily shielded transport, used for planet to ship transfers. “Have it trail behind all the other shuttles and pods so that if the aliens do open fire, the Turtle has the most cover.”

  She frowned. “I expected you to put the kids in the most protected position, but they need their mothers. Why would you separate all the young ones and isolate them? And if we place an arbitrary age limit, older children whose parents have young ones to tend might end up without the family ties they need in such a time of stress.”

  “But we could lose.”

  “And if we do, it won't be because of something you did.” Again, she squeezed his hand.

  Tyce shook his head. “That's not what I mean. If all the adults are in the forward shuttles, if there are only children and no weapons in that last shuttle, the aliens may hesitate to open fire.”

  She sucked in a quick breath. “You think they would save children after killing us?”

  “I think that they have been careful to target propulsion and weapon systems. They haven't targeted life-support or the central housing sections. I don't think that's an accident. Whatever they’re thinking, they don't want to crack our hull and create a general massacre. From what I've heard, that might match the Rownt.”

  She took her hand back from him. “You think the turtles are firing on us?”

  “No, but that’s not to say they don’t have cousins. We’re closer to Rownt than any other species we know, so it may be a related civilization. And the intelligence I read says that Rownt would do anything to protect a child.”