by Lyn Gala
“Tyce,” John said in a pained whisper.
Fuck. The man inspired guilt like it was his superpower. Tyce studied the uneven surface of the far wall. Tyce had no idea what to say. He wanted to ease John’s guilt and gut him. Amali would make him talk about his feelings if he ever admitted even a fraction of this to her. Assuming he survived to talk to her again.
John came over and rested a hand on Tyce’s arm. “I am sorry. Fuck. You can’t know how sorry. You know I would never permit anyone to hurt you.”
Three days ago, Tyce had known that. After all this time tied down to a bed, he doubted. Maybe John had looked the other way because he couldn’t come up with a solution other than giving a biological ship a biological replacement circuit. Tyce kept his gaze on the wall. “People make choices when their backs are up against the wall.” Tyce was the master of knowing that.
“I wouldn’t... I would send you back to your Ribelian friends to starve before I’d let you die strapped to that bed. And I would shoot my own men before I would allow them to murder you.”
The irony made Tyce laugh. The sound was rough, even to his own ears.
“Tyce?”
He turned toward John. “Yeah, I appreciate you saying that.” Tyce wished he could unreservedly believe those words. He couldn’t.
John sat on the edge of a box someone had set up for the small plate of rations they would bring Tyce once a day. “You know we’re in trouble here—too much trouble. I need to know if you’re in communication with the ship.”
Tyce studied John’s brittle expression—as if one wrong word would shatter him. If Tyce could see that, so could the men under him. This whole situation felt like a powder keg. He toyed with the idea of running some psy-ops on John. That would be the smart move, assuming there was any escape for any of them. But Tyce didn’t have the energy. “No. The only thing I got from that adventure with the ship probes was one hell of a headache.”
“We have a problem.” John ran a hand over his face.
“Just one?”
A laugh escaped, and John seemed startled at his own reaction. “Oh no, we have many. However, we have a new problem since your adventure.”
“I would characterize it as my kidnapping, assault and attempted murder,” Tyce said dryly.
John shrugged and a hint of a dark smile twisted the corner of his mouth. “Po-TAY-to, po-TAH-to.”
This was all so fucked up, but John—his John—was still under all that Command spit and polish. “What is going on?”
“Other than massive casualties, potential starvation and dehydration, and the possibility that no rescue is coming?” John asked.
“You don’t have a clean water source or don’t you have equipment to test the water?”
“No source,” John said, which made no sense. The Dragon crew had found multiple water sources. Maybe the aliens had some religious or cultural reason for keeping resources away from computer areas. If that was the case, Command controlled the computers and any potential navigation or communication equipment and the Dragon controlled fresh water and protein supplies. And with their resequencers, that allowed them to make a boring, dry food source that would stave off any short-term starvation.
John continued. “Since we pulled you out, some signals are moving from the computers on the near side of that alcove to the computer on the far side.”
Cold fear washed through Tyce, and his whole body tightened involuntarily. Some signals. That implied that if they wanted to reestablish computer function, they needed to shove him back into the damn alcove. Before Tyce could say anything, the doctor came around the corner.
“That is quite enough. Terrifying a patient is not going to happen on my watch.” The doctor physically shoved his way between John and the bed. In the three days Tyce had been here, he had never seen the doctor, but he took a personal interest in Tyce’s case now. He was tall and broad-shouldered with a thunderous expression.
John didn’t back off an inch, even when he and the doctor ended up so close that their chests pressed together. “Back off, doctor. I am well inside the regulations for questioning a prisoner.”
“Is that why his heart rate jumped precipitously?” The doctor poked John. John’s gaze skittered over to Tyce, a flash of guilt evident before his expression went blank.
“Doctor, I appreciate your dedication, but Lieutenant Robinson is not in any danger.”
A soldier came running into the room . “Sir, you’re needed on control deck.”
John clenched his teeth for a moment. Boy, did Tyce recognize that expression. It generally meant that screaming and the breaking of shit was on the horizon. However, John took a deep breath and turned to face the new soldier. “I am busy.”
The soldier’s gaze darted around the room . He was a kid. A panicked kid. “But sir. The doors. They’re locking. The airlocks even shut down. The elevator vanished into the floor and two corridors have started to close in.”
If Tyce hadn’t been strapped to the bed, he would have sat bolt upright. That was not good. Granted, Tyce knew nothing about biological ships, but structural changes within a ship suggested major damage or impending explosions. Tyce wanted to demand that they warn the Dragon crew so they could get the kids on the shuttles, but he knew how that would go over.
John looked over his shoulder at Tyce before pinning the doctor with a cold glare. “Get the prisoner in restraints. Bring him up to command deck.” He turned to the soldier. “Escort him up once med has him secured, and if you make one detour or he has one additional bruise, you can clean the doctor’s bedpans until we reach Earth again. Clear?”
The kid nodded madly. “Yes, sir.”
John strode out of the room, his spine stiff.
“Damn stubborn arse,” the doctor complained softly. However, he went to the bottom of the bed and retrieved the restraints the nurses used any time Tyce asked to use the bathroom. They were intended for long-term use, including for use on Command soldiers who had suffered head injuries and grown violent. It meant that they were more difficult to escape, but also more humane.
Tyce sat up when the doctor removed the shoulder strap and waited silently as he locked the belt around Tyce’s waist and locked each wrist to one side. As the doctor finished shackling Tyce’s ankles, he spoke to the soldier. “Do I need to remind you of the rules for handling prisoners?”
“No, sir,” the kid blurted. “No offense, but I don’t want to clean your bed pans.”
“No one does, my boy,” the doctor said before he pulled Tyce to his feet. “And you. Will you avoid inciting any violence?”
“I didn’t incite it last time.” Tyce wasn’t going to give this man his word on anything. He was a prisoner. That meant that his only obligation was to escape. Command had taught him that. The doctor pressed his lips together in an unhappy line, but he didn’t say anything when the soldier caught Tyce under the arm and pulled him down the hallway.
“If the elevator is gone and the stairs are nearly two feet tall, how are you planning on getting me to another level?” Tyce asked. The kid hesitated. God save them from children. On the other hand, if John was getting this sloppy, escape was much more possible. Two soldiers came running down the corridor toward them, and Tyce tensed up, but they rushed past on some mission of their own.
“The commander needs to inspect the new growth, so we can go there,” Tyce’s escort said. They reversed direction and followed the soldiers. Tyce shuffled along, playing the part of a good prisoner. He wished he had some sort of word on the Dragon crew. He doubted John would continue to advance on their position when he didn’t have solid control over his own territory, but he might have decided to take the fight to them rather than get backed into any corners. That might explain the lack of soldiers available to guard Tyce.
However, if Command had taken Dragon territory and needed to guard it, that didn’t explain the lack of water or food. Resequencers were large and the crew had enough that they would have abandoned the equipm
ent to advancing Command crew if there was any danger. And with the Command crew able to open doors, they should be able to move quickly. Of course the Dragon crew might blow up their own equipment, but they wouldn’t do that as long as a single child survived. They might’ve been willing to die for their own freedom, but they adamantly believed in every person’s right to make a choice about their own death. Religious conviction had been the only reason Amali hadn’t killed Tyce two seconds after they’d met.
They reached a corridor with a number of doors set at irregular intervals. The guard pulled Tyce toward the nearest one. They entered a large room that reminded Tyce of horror shows at Halloween. Despite the lack of solid readings from the Dragon sensors, Tyce had known the ship was mammoth from the brief glimpse he’d gotten of the exterior. But this room. A shuttle could land in the middle, and yet the narrow doors suggested this was something closer to crew quarters. However, it stank. Badly. And the horrors didn’t end there.
The interior skin stretched over a series of structural supports that looked disturbingly like bones—like an enormous bat wing stretched from floor to ceiling. The ladder that led to an upper platform resembled a dead tree or a jumble of old bones, and the leathery skin of the interior walls stretched over it.
The soldier touched his radio. “Sub-commander? I have the prisoner in the first room off med.” After listening to the response, he nodded and gave Tyce a suspicious expression. Tyce looked away. The rotting leaf stench filled the room, but Tyce could see a few other suspicious signs. The joint where the ceiling and wall met appeared moist, as if something might be slowly leaking. That could’ve caused the smell. Most of the walls had a greenish-brown tone, but one wall had long streaks of gray. Maybe the ship had psoriasis. If it was alive, logic said that the tissues could die.
The soldier backed away some and brought his weapon to bear on Tyce. Tyce eyed him. “Is this an execution?” he asked calmly.
“What?” The kid turned all wide-eyed panic.
Shaking his head, Tyce turned his attention to the walls. “If you’re not going to shoot me, aim the weapon near my feet so any accidental fire doesn’t mow me down,” he suggested; however, he didn’t turn to see if the kid was paying attention. He was no younger than Yoss, and yet Yoss had a hard edge to him. He’d lived and married and lost his wife and sought revenge, all before joining the Dragon and doing a stint as Tyce’s jailor after Ama had captured him. Or he had surrendered to her. That day was still a little unclear.
Put this kid next to Yoss, and Yoss would’ve looked like a withered old man. People from Earth were so soft and idealistic. They read books about some sergeant who earned a promotion or some girl who ushered in a new treaty with an alien species, and they believed that could be them. They expected to be great—to be noble and leave some mark on the world. Tyce had been the same sort of stupid.
John strode in the room. “Bring him,” he said without stopping. The room was shaped like an oval with pinched ends, and he headed for the far end. Two additional soldiers stood at the door, and Tyce’s guard grabbed his arm and shoved him in that direction.
“Yeah, yeah. I can’t walk faster,” Tyce complained as he shuffled along. He spoke loud enough that John should be able to hear him in the next room. “So, is this one of those rooms that’s collapsing on itself?” Tyce stopped and fought back an instinct to gag as a new wave of smell hit him.
“Oh geez,” the soldier whispered, “don’t do that. If you do, I’m going to sympathy vomit again.”
Tyce bent his head down so he could smell his own pit. As bad as his body odor was, it was a million times better than the smell of death out of the next room.
John appeared at the doorway. “The faster you get in here, the quicker we can all get out of this room.”
“I vote we leave now,” Tyce said, but he didn’t fight as his escort pushed him forward. The next room had weird platforms and uneven flooring that made no logical sense, but that was not what caught Tyce’s attention. One wall looked slimy. Green gunk oozed out from tiny holes. “Oh, that’s...” Tyce couldn’t find the right word. Nauseating didn’t cover it.
John held up his hand and waved it near the wall. Tiny threads reached for him. Hair-like filaments waved as though in a breeze as they stretched toward John. Tyce’s escort made a retching noise.
“Corporal, you’re dismissed,” John said.
The kid jerked as if he’d been slapped. “I’m fine, sir.”
John graced him with a withering glare. “Go guard the door with Simpson and Felter.” For a second the kid hesitated, but then he gave John a salute and beat a hasty retreat. Tyce didn’t blame him. The smell could rot a man’s nose off.
Tyce waited until the kid was gone to ask, “What the fuck?” Tyce shuffled back. Logic said that a two or three inch hair couldn’t attack him from eight feet away, but he wasn’t willing to take any risks.
“It started after computer signals moved from one set of computers to the ones on the opposite side of the alcove,” John said.
“What? You think I ordered an alien ship to set off a stink bomb?” Tyce demanded. “I know we don’t see eye-to-eye politically, but I would hope you have enough respect for me as an enemy to know I wouldn’t go for stink bombs.”
John wiped his hands against his pants as though he felt contaminated by being near the rotting, hairy corruption. “I don’t know what to think. Maybe this is a side effect.”
“Of what?” Tyce demanded. The second he asked the question, he considered possibilities. It could be part of a water filtration system. Most of this part of the ship was dry. This might be some old system turning on. Or rotting.
John frowned and studied him for a second before asking, “Are you responsible for the signal the ship is sending out?”
For a minute, Tyce’s brain couldn’t even compute the words. The tactical horror of them was that great. They were in an uncharted part of space and the enormous and powerful ship was sending out a signal. They were all so dead.
“Fuck,” John whispered. “I can tell from your face you didn’t.”
Slowly, Tyce shook his head. “No one I know would be out here to listen to a signal.”
John sank down on the edge of a platform set in the floor. He put his head in his hands. “What the fuck do we do? If the aliens who built this ship show up, what the hell am I supposed to tell them? Hey, sorry that we blew a chunk out of the side of your ship, but we wanted access to the landing bays. And hey, the guy who ordered it is dead, so you don’t have to kill the rest of us.”
The idiots had attacked the damn ship. Tyce blew shit up when he didn’t have a choice, but tactically, he always preferred to go in quiet . If a person made too much of a mess going in, they risked getting caught by their own shrapnel. Of course, Earth never believed that. They had planted entire fucking minefields they were going to have to disassemble since the war was over. “Shit.” Tyce examined the nearest bit of wall for goo or hairs before leaning against it. “Fucking shit. What the fuck are we going to do?”
John looked up at him. “I have no fucking clue.”
This was a nightmare. Amali always talked about reincarnation and lucid dreaming and altered states. Maybe Tyce’s guilt had finally driven him insane. It would make sense. John. Command. Nameless aliens. The Dragon crew trapped and ignorant of the shit storm that was about to come down on their heads. Add in a few rape victims and the dead eyes of men who had trusted him, and Tyce could call this a perfect fucking nightmare.
Chapter Nine
WITHOUT ANYONE TOUCHING the controls, the door dividing the bathroom from the outer room slid half closed, and Tyce jumped. Great, now the smell would get even more intense.
“They do that sometimes,” John explained. “You touch the sensor on the side of the door, and it will open again.”
Tyce wasn’t as convinced. Apparently other parts of the ship were locking down, so his trust in the equipment was rather low. On the other hand, the door was still o
pen about eight inches. “John, what the fuck is going on? What signals are you talking about?” They were the largest tactical concern.
John gave a mirthless laugh. “If I had any answers, do you think I would be down here talking to you? I don't know.” He grimaced. “And the commander had his top three technical experts with him in the second wave when they tried to breach the shuttle doors. Instead of just taking out the attack shuttle, this behemoth took out the first two waves of our ships. The only people left are the ones the commander had assigned to the rear.”
That explained a lot. In the academy, John had been quick to charm people, and even if he couldn’t win them over, he could still manipulate them. His lack of control over the crew had shocked Tyce, but now he could see it. These were the misfits—the ones the previous commander would have replaced if he could have gotten new recruits. These were the ones with either so little experience or such poor performance that the commander hadn’t wanted them involved in boarding the alien ship. “Christ,” Tyce whispered.
John ran a hand over his face. “I can't even calculate how screwed we are, and sadly, you're the closest thing I have to another trained officer. This mission was not supposed to end like this.”
Tyce was kind enough to avoid pointing out that in John's perfect world, Tyce would still be in shackles. However, the circumstances had changed and they needed to focus on reality, not what could have been. “John, you need to make contact with the Dragon crew. They have a full complement of technical experts, and right now, they’re the closest thing you’re going to get to allies.”
“Allies?” John’s voice rose in incredulity.
“The humans need to have our shit together before we have to deal with any aliens.”
John crossed his arms. “Great. Sure. We’ll make an alliance with Ribelians and a Command traitor. And as soon as you've got what you need out of us, including control of the ship, then you can shoot us in the back the way you did your own unit.”
Tyce locked all his emotions down.