Ends, Means, Laws, chapter 8 (Patreon)

“How is he?”

Tyce perked up when he heard 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 then 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 liked 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 door. At least he watched 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’s about how Tyce was a traitor and murderer?

John took a step into the room. “Lieutenant Robinson.” His cool tone 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. Yep, his brain was cracked.

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 really 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 as I wondered if I would be murdered or just 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.

“Tyce,” John said in a pained whisper.

Fuck. The man inspired guilt like it was his superpower. Tyce looked away and studied the uneven surface of the wall. For long seconds they stood on opposites sides of the room. 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 was starting to doubt. Part of him wondered if John hadn’t 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 to look at 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 expression. He looked brittle—like 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 looked 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 needed for them to rescue themselves and the Dragon controlled fresh water and protein supplies. And with their resequencers, that allowed them to make a boring and 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 involuntarily tightened. 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 seemed to take 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 just jumped precipitously?” The doctor poked John with a finger. 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 restrains. 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 John 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 then 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 said. He 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 started pulling 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 was going to escort you to 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. 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, it would not explain the lack of water or food. Not unless the Dragon crew had blown up their own equipment, and they wouldn’t do that as long as a single child survived. They might be willing to die for their own freedom, but they adamantly believed in every person’s right to make a choice about their own death. That 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 fact that the Dragon’s sensors hadn’t been able to get a solid reading, 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. Howeve, 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 looked like 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.” The soldier nodded and then gave Tyce a suspicious look. 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 looked moist, like something might be slowly leaking. That could cause a smell. Most of the walls had a greenish-brown tone, but one wall had long streaks of gray. He wondered if the ship could get 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 Amali 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 look like a withered old man. At least he would have the emotions of one. People from Earth were so soft. So fucking 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. Idiots.

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 of the room. Two additional soldiers stood at the door, and Tyce’s guard grabbed his arm and hurried 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’s 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. Hairlike 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 looked like 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 reach him from eight feet away, but he wasn’t willing to take any risks.

“It started after computer signals started moving 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 started considering 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.

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. The ship was sending out a signal. They were in an uncharted part of space and the enormous and powerful ship was sending out a signal. They were all so very 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 one of the various platforms 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.”

“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.

______________________

I know, another cliffhanger. I'll try to get you down quick.  Have I left enough clues to figure out what the ship is doing?