Ends, Means, Laws and an Angry Ship

by Lyn Gala

  One set of restraining hands vanished. “Get that fucking thing away from me!” O’Conner yelled.

  Acosta cursed. “Grab him!”

  “Fuck no. Those things almost caught me. I’m not getting used for fucking spare parts!” The panic in O’Conner’s voice was unmistakable. This was not the fear of the unknown. They knew what would happen, and it terrified them.

  Tyce screamed as a needle pierced his neck. He lurched back and broke away for a second. Fuck being cooperative. Fuck John. Fuck these assholes. Fuck Earth. A goon cursed and Tyce rolled to the side and kicked at someone’s knee. Someone fell screaming. A weapon charged with a whine.

  “No! We need him for the fucking machine!” the scientist screamed, and hands grabbed Tyce. Chaos reigned, and he didn’t even know who he was kicking or who was kicking him, but eventually several of them pinned him to the floor and held him so tightly that Tyce couldn’t get leverage to free himself.

  “Yeah, attack a man with his hands tied. Does that make you big shots?” he demanded.

  Acosta snarled. “You’re not a man. You’re a fucking terrorist who would have left us to die in space if you had your way.”

  He was fifty percent right.

  “Give me that,” Acosta said. Tyce screamed when he drove a thumb into Tyce’s jaw. Before Tyce could argue, rough hands shoved a thick belt between his teeth. Acosta looped it around Tyce’s head again before locking it in place.

  “Get him up.”

  “We can’t push him in without that thing getting us too,” O’Conner protested. She was a true believer, but she wasn’t willing to put her life on the line. Fucking coward. Fucking bully. Tyce tried to jerk away, but he failed.

  When Acosta spoke, he sounded amused. “It was trying to attach to his spine and the back of his neck. We need to plug him in the right direction.” The asshole grinned at Tyce.

  Tyce narrowed his eyes, but he couldn’t do much but suck in the drool already forming in the corners of his mouth. They grabbed his arms and pulled him around, and Tyce exploded into action again, kicking at his captors.

  “Grab his legs!” Tyce ended up stomach down on the floor , and this time they tied his knees together. Any chance he had to make them kill him was gone. He couldn’t do anything as they dragged him toward the alcove.

  “Close enough,” Acosta said. They dropped him onto the floor , and Acosta put his boot on Tyce’s groin, pinning him in place. Wires brushed across Tyce’s hair, and he leaned forward to escape the touch, but the asshole took the butt of his gun and slammed Tyce in the forehead, driving him back. Tyce screamed and arched as something drove deep into his neck and up into his brain.

  Chapter Seven

  “WHAT THE FUCK!”

  The words startled Acosta, and he moved his foot. Tyce tried to throw himself toward Acosta —away from the wires trying to grab him. He screamed as pain seared every nerve. John ran in, his knife held high. For a second, Tyce thought John might kill him, and he wanted it. He wanted to die. Fear flooded his system, but not even the surge of adrenaline could drown out the pain.

  Instead, John brought the knife down on the wires. Loss, pain, searing aloneness—it all surged through Tyce before he fell to the floor stomach first, twitching and flailing .

  John shouted. “Get the restraints off.”

  “Sir!” O’Conner sounded personally offended, but someone unlocked the manacles. It did Tyce no good because his body flailed and twitched out of control. His hand came down on the decking hard enough to make his thumb throb, even though the floor was cushioned.

  “Who the fuck is in charge here?” John demanded. “Acosta?”

  Yeah, the asshole played at being a big shot with his underlings, but he was slow to take credit now. After a long silence, he answered. “Wu said we needed a living connection.”

  That opened the floodgates.

  “We can’t float in space until we die.”

  “You need to fucking do something...” Followed by the world’s most sarcastic, “sir.”

  “Sir, they have a point.”

  “He’s a fucking terrorist.”

  “Worse, he’s a traitor. If we need to close that circuit, I vote him.”

  “Enough. The commander didn’t ask for your opinion.”

  Tyce lay on the floor twitching and unable to control his limbs or his voice as a dozen people debated his relative worthlessness. He couldn’t even see beyond a few shadows. Either the probe had damaged the vision center of his brain or his nervous system needed time to recover. He hoped it was the second. If he was permanently blind, Ama would still take him back, assuming he could escape, but he would be fucking worthless as a fighter.

  “Quiet!” John bellowed. “All of you are on report. “Acosta, O’Conner, Zeller, you are confined to quarters. If you are seen in the halls, you can and may be shot because you have pissed off enough people.”

  An indignant voice squawked, “Sir!”

  “Stow it. All three of you are going to prison. Baker, I would order the same for you if you weren’t the only surviving engineer, but one more fuck-up, and you will be either confined or dumped in space. For now, get out of my damn sight!” After a silence, John continued.

  “I want you to think about this. We don’t know if that’s a power circuit or a command one. Chief Wu gave us fifty-fifty odds. Which means you took a fifty percent chance that if this man survived, he would have been in control of the ship. You would have handed the single most powerful weapon humans have ever found to a Ribelian. How long do you think they would have honored the truce if they had a ship like this in orbit? That is what you risked. You’re going to be lucky if Command lets you out of prison fifty years from now.”

  “Sir, we wouldn’t have—”

  “Don’t justify your actions. You can have your advocate present that information to the court. Eightner, have someone escort these three to the stinkiest quarters you can find.” John sounded furious.

  There was a small hesitation before someone said, “Yes, sir. And the Ribelian?”

  “If history repeats itself, he’s going to be having seizures for at least twelve hours. Have medical report with restraints, but he’s no danger now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tyce hoped that John knew the crew had sympathy for these idiot kidnappers—that was the only reasonable explanation for how easily they had accessed a sensitive area. John had taken the same classes Tyce had on securing territory, so John would have posted guards.

  Shadows retreated and footsteps faded before John spoke again. “We have a problem.”

  Tyce thought John was speaking to him, and he tried to get his vocal cords to work. They wouldn’t.

  “Yes, sir,” someone else answered. “Fear is not a good bedfellow, and Wu talked to several of them about the reason for your assignment to the Rutherford.”

  “I can’t believe Commander Cancio talked to the senior crew. It was irresponsible.”

  “Yes, sir, but he wanted people to watch you for suspicious behavior, and engineering was a primary area of concern.”

  John snorted. “If I were going to turn traitor, I would have done it before the fucking war ended.”

  “Yes, sir. I didn’t think you were dumb enough to wait until the fight was lost before jumping in on the losers’ side.”

  “Why not? This idiot did.” John put a hand on Tyce’s back, but Tyce still had no control over his body. He wasn’t sure, but he might have pissed himself.

  “Sir?”

  John sighed. “At the academy, he argued adamantly that the rebellion had zero chance of success. He wrote papers about it. He made historical parallels. He was unflagging in his belief that the war would be long, but it could only end one way.”

  “Then why would he change sides?” John’s buddy sounded confused.

  God save them all from naive children in possession of heavy firearms. Tyce could’ve listed a dozen reasons why someone might change sides and join the losing force. Until
his unit had disobeyed his direct orders, he had never expected to run face-first into those circumstances.

  John sighed. “Good question. He wouldn’t tell me, but he always was too damn quick to act.”

  “Yeah, I saw that when he boarded this damn ship. I thought the commander was insane for following, but it bought us time.”

  John’s voice faded. “I understand their desperation, even if trying to shove a prisoner into that slot goes beyond reprehensible.”

  Tyce couldn’t hear more. Clearly the ship was disabled. Unless the Command ship had gotten off a communication blast, that would be a problem. When the Dragon voted to run for this part of space, they’d discussed that the large expanse of black between this part of Earth space and the next inhabitable area was long and silent. If they’d gotten in trouble, they knew they would have to save themselves or die. But they’d taken that risk rather than having the adults arrested and their children put in Command homes where they’d be raised to hate their own people.

  But a Command ship should have maintained some sort of communication. Depending on where and how many communication relays they’d dropped, they should have gotten word back to Earth. Unless the first volley had damaged communications. The alien ship had taken out the Dragon’s communication dish fairly early, but Tyce had assumed that was because her dishes had been huge, archaic structures that would have caught the attention of any sensors.

  A new voice asked. “Is this our patient?”

  Tyce tried to answer, tried to get his limbs to move under his own command, but he could only flop on the ground. Hands turned him to face the floor and someone ran his fingers through Tyce’s hair. Tyce tried and failed to protest.

  “I have two insertion points. Damn it. After what happened to Chief Wu, I made it clear that I would not approve any experiments.”

  “Doctor, this was not a sanctioned experiment. This was a group of frightened soldiers acting like idiots.”

  Someone scoffed.

  “If you want to dress me down for not controlling my men, you can do it when we don’t have an audience.”

  Someone flipped Tyce over so fast that the movement nauseated him. Then bright lights cut through to his brain, turning thousands of synapses to fire. “The pupils are slow to react. He is not conscious, so we are as alone as we are likely to be. Sir, you have no right to use a human being as a test subject, and I don’t care what situation we are in.” The doctor might have had Tyce’s best interests at heart, but Tyce would’ve paid anyone who would take that penlight and shove it up his ass. It was hard to think strategically when his head was threatening to burst into flame, and now he couldn’t see at all.

  “I assume you know about my history with Lieutenant Robinson.” John’s voice came closer.

  “I do.”

  “Then you know I wouldn’t hurt him. We were friends for years.”

  The doctor didn’t answer immediately. “And for years, you’ve lived under the shadow of his treason. If Lieutenant Robinson could turn traitor, maybe his roommate and best friend could as well. After years of having officers look at you and make those kinds of assumptions, would it be that hard for you to look the other way while your men got their hands dirty?”

  Fuck. Tyce had no idea that John would’ve paid for his decision. On the other hand, Tyce wouldn’t have put John’s comfort ahead of the lives of the people he’d sworn to protect. The John he knew wouldn’t have asked that of him.

  When John answered, his voice was ice. “The only one making assumptions is you. I have never been passed over for promotion, and it was my profile on Lieutenant Robinson that led Command to post the Rutherford in this part of space. I’m the one who suggested that Robinson would take the long odds and attempt to establish a new base of operations outside Earth space and that the Ribelians would be fanatical enough to follow his idiotic advice.”

  “And yet,” the doctor said in a snotty tone, “someone told Commander Cancio to keep a close eye on you. The military structure that you say has promoted and supported you doesn’t trust you. Don’t lay some claim on this man’s friendship and expect that I will brush this atrocity under the rug for you. No one deserves to die like this, and I will shoot you myself if you order my staff to remove any barbs that have penetrated his brain.”

  “Chief Wu requested that operation.”

  “And you didn’t try to convince him otherwise.”

  “Jesus Christ, what do you expect from me?” John exploded. “Most of the men think I’m too close to the traitor, and you think I have a grudge against him, but there’s not a soul on this ship that expects me to approach a command situation rationally and logically. Well let me tell you something. Rationally, I had no reason to believe the removal surgery would be any more dangerous than leaving alien tech in Chief Wu’s head. Logically, our late, beloved commander poisoned most of the men in this crew against me. I was the last person who could have convinced Wu of anything. Rationally and logically, I would never use a prisoner as part of an experiment because that is expressly forbidden by regulations. And if I lost my mind and forgot every regulation I ever knew, I wouldn’t put Tyce in there because I couldn’t trust what he might do if that tech gave him control over the ship!” Boots stomped away.

  When Tyce had opened fire on his men, he’d known that he would never find forgiveness. Intellectually, he’d known it. But hearing John shout his lack of trust at full volume still made something crack so deep in Tyce’s heart that he couldn’t breathe. Maybe some stupid adolescent part of him had expected John to stand with him, but that was not rational or logical, as John would put it.

  And despite Tyce’s feeling that he’d been betrayed by John’s anger, he regretted that Command had targeted John because of their friendship. John hadn’t deserved that.

  A hand patted Tyce’s shoulder. “I do worry, young man,” the doctor said. “Then again, I worry about all of us out here. Commander Cancio should not have put the sub-commander into this position, not when he was going to get himself killed.” The doctor sighed. “Come on, then. Let’s get you back to med and cleaned up.” He rolled Tyce one way and then the other before Tyce felt the inflatable med stabilizer tighten around him. Considering that the alien barbs had left him paralyzed, he couldn’t have gotten more helpless.

  However, as the fabric sides closed in around him, tightening to hold every part of him secure, Tyce’s claustrophobia pressed against his chest. He felt the panic, and still his heart beat on in the same steady pattern. It was as if Tyce was disconnected from himself.

  “Up you go,” the doctor said. The unit lifted and Tyce swayed gently as the doctor pulled him down the hall. How many people had the Command ship lost if the doctor was doing the grunt work of retrieving a patient for himself? The Dragon hadn’t lost anyone while boarding the ship, but either the Command ship hadn’t evacuated before weapons fire had breached the hull or something had gone horribly wrong during their attempt to board.

  Even if Tyce had the ability to speak, he suspected no one would’ve given him answers.

  Chapter Eight

  “HOW IS HE?”

  Tyce perked up at John’s voice. Even John’s hostility was better than silence and the company of his own body odor. A couple of times a day, some orderly or nurse would come in, lock him in restraints and let him shuffle around for ten or fifteen minutes before leading him to a chem toilet. He would have considered the lack of food, water, or human contact a form of torture, but the orderlies seemed more worried than malicious. And given that one had a moment of lightheadedness that led him to nearly fall, Tyce suspected the crew was on limited rations as well.

  A vaguely familiar voice answered. “He’s awake now, but he has two alien devices sunk into his brain, so I wouldn’t call his condition exceptionally good.”

  “Doctor.” John’s voice had a note of exasperated warning.

  “You can speak with him, but if his blood pressure rises, you will leave.”

  Tyce lik
ed the doctor, but he hoped that his recalcitrance came from wanting to protect his patient and not from any disrespect for John’s position. Tyce was so fucked in the head. John had taken him prisoner, and Tyce still couldn’t stop worrying about him as if John were still the kid he’d met their first year in the academy. Yep. His brain was cracked.

  Straps across his chest and all four limbs kept Tyce from moving much, but he used his head to shove his pillow into a better position for him to watch the alien archway that passed as a door. After a second, John came around the corner.

  He stopped and stared for a time, and Tyce wondered what he saw. When he looked at Tyce— unwashed, unshaven, probably pale from dehydration—did he still see a friend from the academy or did he buy Command’s whole story about how Tyce was a traitor and murderer?

  John took a step into the room. “Lieutenant Robinson.” His cool voice cut Tyce to the bone.

  “Sub-commander,” Tyce answered with his most unctuous grin. When John flinched, Tyce felt a twinge of guilt even though John had started the pissing match.

  John straightened up. “Are you in communication with the ship?”

  “I’m fine, thank you for asking,” Tyce said in a nasty tone, the one that his aunt always disapproved of. “I’m suffering a few auditory and tactile hallucinations, but the doctor says that’s because the alien tech in my head is making random neurons fire. He doesn’t think my head will explode or anything.”

  “The ship,” John repeated, “have you communicated with it?”

  “The vision is still blurry, but you know, considering I survived an attempted murder, I’m feeling pretty good, all things considered. But I appreciate you coming down personally to check on me after your goons tried to sacrifice me to the ship. That was kind. After all, another officer might have left me to stew down here for three days, constantly expecting to be murdered or starved to death.” Tyce graced John with his best smile. Ama would shove her elbow into his side hard enough to break a rib if she saw him now.