Soundless Conflicts Read online

  SOUNDLESS CONFLICTS

  S. WALKER

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  Copyright © 2021 by S. Walker

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover Design by James, GoOnWrite.com

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitting in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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  Acknowledgments

  Promised I would, so here it is.

  I owe more thanks that I can ever express to the readers who suffered through and pointed out problems in this serial for a solid month:

  Azgrimm (hype), Mclewis_13 (encouragement), TACNUK3Z, UsaianInSpace, Godmodedio, Lorventus, Jnkangel, Insane42, Runaway90909 (the convert), OtterBeElsewhere, Gruecifer, 0570 (insane deep dive). Finally Rasip and AtheistBibleScholar who guessed every single twist.

  Anyone I've forgotten, please accept my apology. You know where to go yell at me.

  For anyone who wants to yell at me: www.Reddit.com/r/Susceptible

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  Chapter 1

  Bad Introductions

  The hatch whisked open, unleashing a furious lieutenant into the communal break room. "What," Dark brown eyes narrowed fiercely as one raging finger thrust downward. "Is the meaning of this!?" She wore outraged anger like a comfortable outfit.

  Janson broke into deep throated laughter from his seat, one enormous fist merrily pounding the table next to an overflowing tray of breakfast snacks. A bushy beard waggled across the front of his stained Engineer coveralls. "Ey, Paul! You lost this one, 'ere she is! Nine days, dead even!" Synthetic egg bits sprayed with every word.

  This triggered resigned despair from a counter nearby the caf dispenser. "One more; if she stayed lost for just one more-" Paul sighed and shrugged, an impressive feat considering he was nearly seven feet tall. It was a lot of uniform to pull up and down, but he managed. "Fine, I will cred you a fifty." He looked down an enormous beak of a nose at the laughing mountain of the head Engineer.

  At the opposite corner of the room a connection hatch swished open, admitting a short woman with the perpetual headset of a communications specialist. A visor covered both eyes, slowly transitioning between a rainbow of colors. "What's the joke? Oh, hey!" Swirling colors aimed themselves at the lieutenant. "You figured it out! What's that, like nine days? Damn, I had you Academy types pegged for two days, max. What a freaking disappointment."

  Caught between big hearted laughter, cold sarcasm and outright disdain the lieutenant momentarily derailed, then rallied. "Atten-shun, right this instant." Crisp uniform seams snapped as she stood upright, every service ribbon in stark relief.

  Disbelief smothered the room, killing both laughter and sarcastic quips.

  Janson rotated his whole torso to look at Paul, who in turn side eyed the comms specialist currently passing him at waist level. "Emilia, we do the 'attention' thing outside the Navy?"

  Tiny hands started shoving him away from the caf station, capturing his caf mug in the process. "Hell to the no. Straighten her out before she goes out an airlock."

  "That would be Lieutenant Jamet Reals to you, Emilia Rounds." She transferred a death glare to the beanpole of sarcasm currently squabbling with the short technician. She did it surprisingly well for having average height and barely enough musculature to fill an officer's uniform; presence and hawkishly sharp cheekbones made an impressive display. "Paul Noscome, put down that drink immediately. Mister Parks," six feet of burly engineer jumped like a guilty child at the table. "Clean that mess up. And you," one finger snapped up, pointed directly into Emilia's opaque visor. "Remove that eye covering immediately."

  Rainbows swirled as Emilia took a slow sip from her stolen mug. "Yeahhhhh... nooo. LT's more of an honorary ship term around here, lady." She tilted her head towards the hatch. "I'm doing rounds on comm deck. Good luck with this bitch, guys."

  Jamet's jaw dropped as the tiny tech sauntered out, both hands firmly around a steaming beverage.

  Paul floated the first comment, breaking the aura of disbelief around the lieutenant. "Making friends already."

  "She is absolutely on charges! I am putting in an immediate sanction-"

  "Uhm," Janson interrupted, sheepishly. "Ay decline the sanction. Seein' as I was here and all."

  She reeled in place. "You're the ship's Security official?"

  He nodded agreeably and help up three scarred fingers. "An' Engineer, an' Weapons custodian. Oh and the other one."

  "Quartermaster." Paul murmured, a brand new caf mug magically back in his hand.

  "Ey, that one. Sorry, LT." A wide grin split his beard, making the large man look somewhat like an apologetic stuffed toy.

  "That's- that's simply not possible. Separation of roles keeps a ship orderly, how can you have that many duties!"

  "You... did not read the job posting before accepting." Paul had a gift for stating questions as if they were facts, blunt arrows thrown down from his high peak. He was also curiously atonal and seemed to avoid contractions as often as possible.

  Which put lieutenant Jamet in an awkward spot. There was no way she was going to admit to jumping desperately at any offer before reading it. That was a very amateur move and would naturally lead to discussions, many of which involved very painful, very recent experiences. One did not broadcast defeats in the Corporate world; that was just asking to undermine her own authority with the workers and inspire the usual classic betrayals.

  Better to sidestep the question. "Never mind that. What I'm far more interested in is why I've been restricted to 'Guest Only' access on ship records the moment I was aboard. None of the consoles will even operate for me! And to top it off," she took an angry seat at the table, glaring at both men. "The ship map is conveniently deleted! I've spent days wandering around looking for the rest of the crew, which is not possible on a Cruiser class vessel. I want answers and I want them," she ground teeth hard. "Right. Now."

  There is a silent sort of communication possible between people who have worked together for a long time, mostly involving shared experiences and parallel thinking. Janson and Paul did it on a professional level: Bushy eyebrows thrust upwards in question, a sharp nose jerked sideways to answer maybe, then a complicated hand turnover with a not-quite-point was met with a waving off gesture. Janson ended the non-discussion by putting both hands flat on the table and squinting at the taller caf addict.

  "Oh, fine. You owe me." Paul rolled both pale blue eyes and took another long drink. "Coward. Ahem, alright now, the speech: Hello there, lieutenant and welcome to the CES Kipper. We are... exceptionally glad to see you. As part of our unique ship experience every new crew member gets a little hazing their first time aboard."

  "It took me two days to find the waste recycler." Short black hair practically stood at attention.

  Paul steamrolled right over Janson's hysterical, baritone laughter. "For your welcome we decided to see how long we could all avoid you during planetary transition. Emilia locked out your access and wiped the ship map, this chuckling lump of beard closed off access corridors directly between your room and the common areas and I," he tipped his mug in salute. "Flipped the ship's clock so you would be on the opposite shift from everyone else. Ta daaaa."

  "Ey, that was right genius of you," Janson wiped tears out of both eyes. "Stumbling around in the middle o' the night like 'where's everyone at??' had to be a real turn. If you don't mind my askin', ma'am,
how'd you figure it out? An' our names, too?"

  Jamet scowled and looked away, choosing to examine the cluttered table for a moment. It was heavy plastic, stained and worn around the edges from years of scraping trays and heavily dropped cups. It fit right in with the battered room around her, matching the heavily used autocycler and meal prep units. "Birthdays," she grumbled.

  "Eh?" Paul looked baffled.

  "The social calendar isn't restricted," she explained, still looking around the room and anger on every syllable. "All of your birthdays and your full names are on it. I subscribed to the Captain's birthday party next month and it sent me a confirmation. For the crew break room. Once I knew there was a break room I just tried every hatch going mid-deck until I found it." Both hands waved around, indicating the less than tidy food prep area and stained surfaces. "With last night's dinner still sitting out. I've been checking every hour since then."

  Paul gave her an impressed look. "Smart. I will tell Emilia to lock that down next time."

  "She certainly will not. This 'joke' is over and I'll thank you to return my ship access, Engineer Janson." The big man nodded agreeably. "I'll also expect full system rights as the ship's co-CEO immediately."

  "I'll message Emilia."

  "Do so. As for crew duties," she thrust a finger upwards. "What are yours, mister Noscome?"

  Paul glanced a long way down at her finger. "Environmental and Medical. Research."

  "Which Environmental? Which Medical?"

  "All of them." He seemed unimpressed with her tone, leaning against the counter with one hand lazily cupped under a gangly elbow.

  "Not. Possible. This is a ship crew of forty; Enviro alone is four separate systems!"

  They exchanged stares, her angry look versus his lofty indifference and caf sipping. "If you say so." Off to the side Janson levered himself away from the table, casually thrusting a half full tray into the cycler cubicle before departing with a whoosh of displaced air.

  Jamet scowled. However the lieutenant thought this situation would go, this obviously wasn't it. Tooth enamel took another gritty layer off. "I want to see Captain Siers. Immediately."

  Paul shrugged elaborately. "Put in a meeting request."

  Which they both knew she couldn't do yet, turning his answer into a polite message to get lost. She made a mental note and powered through the insubordination; he'd pay for that later. "You will escort me to his quarters, right now, or I swear I will start banging on every hatch from bow to stern until I find the right one."

  "Mm." He tilted the whole mug back, taking the last of the caf in one long swallow. "Alright, if you are sure. But I would recommend against it right now. Captain is... not a morning person." He considered for a moment. "Or an afternoon, evening or early night person. It is more of a 'see him or get summoned' kind of thing."

  "That-" Jamet choked on years of memorized regulations. "That's not-"

  "Possible, right?" He laughed, faded eyes kind and mocking at the same time. "You are close to getting a nickname if you keep saying that."

  "Stop laughing. Right now. Or I'll have you on charges and sanction."

  The humor drained out of Paul like a hole in the hull, leaving ice behind. "Have it your way. Captain would be in quarters right now; need anything to eat before we go?"

  "No." She slapped the table and rose, face angry and body stiff. "Escort me there."

  Paul eyed her, then waved open a storage compartment and extracted a thermos. He jammed it into the caf machine to fill, then screwed a lid on and waved her toward the hatch. "This way."

  She fell in behind him, temper firmly held in check as the hatch easily opened for his biometrics. They proceeded down a long and surprisingly streamlined corridor, passing utility cubicles every twenty feet with cheerful displays ready for access. The lanky Environmental (and Medical? and Research? how was that possible?) expert walked with the ease of someone who knew every step of the way-- no wasted motions or half-strides before turning onto new corridors. He even casually ducked before rounding some blind spots to get beneath low hanging access junctions.

  Devoid of crew, the ship was eerily quiet and ridiculously spacious. Which was wrong on several levels; the lack of contact and constant side-stepping while walking flew in the face of every assignment she'd ever been on. Which wasn't that many, really, but expectations were a thing and she had them the same as everyone else. Not to mention spending nearly a week on her own wandering around the ship without anyone else, which was a whole new range of previously undiscovered nightmare fuel in and of itself. She'd been furious at first, slamming open hatches and expecting to chew out someone at any moment. But as the days slowly passed her irritation and anger made way for a slow fear, a sense of horror that kept trying to slip in. What if the ship was abandoned? Am I going to nowhere, alone?

  But it hadn't been abandoned: Just under crewed. By assholes. So she firmly put that thought away, tucked into a locker alongside the memory of nights spent in teary silence listening to unfamiliar noises and hoping for company. It was over. On to the next thing, now.

  Which was a suspiciously long walk. After two solid minutes of following Jamet slowed, arms crossed. "Is this a trick? More 'hazing'?"

  Paul didn't hesitate, long strides heading up a ramp and over an emergency air pressure lock. "What makes you say that?"

  She thrust a finger at the nearest utility cubical. "One: We've been walking for too long. Cruisers aren't that big. Two," she pointed. "That's an entertainment and envoy console. We are nowhere near the command deck or the Captain's quarters."

  He finally paused, thermos in hand and eyebrows raised. "Yes. And?"

  "And you are escorting me to the Captain. I swear, is this entire crew insane? I will bring charg-" Jamet stopped, sputtered. Paul was already grinning. "I will... do something you greatly dislike if you don't stop this nonsense immediately."

  "Oh no. Please. Not that." He waved her onward. "Stow it, we are almost there."

  "I will not 'stow it'! And where is 'there', and does it have the Captain?" She hustled after his retreating form, heel beats stomping metallic deckplates with a sound like impact drills. She caught up just as he paused in front of an elaborately engraved hatch, the hardened metal overlaid with synthetic wood with the ship's logo picked out in prominent gold flecks.

  Jamet stared. "An ambassador's reception room? You have an ambassador's- and it's on a Cruiser? There's no ambassador! And the Captain is here? Why!" She turned to demand answers and ended up blinking at empty air for a moment before refocusing. "What are you doing?"

  Paul was standing fifteen feet away from the hatch, thermos casually in hand. "Waiting."

  "Waiting? Waiting for what?"

  The gilded, faux-wood hatch covering abruptly slammed open, revealing a pitch-black room and the stained carpet of a party house. A smell like brewery explosions billowed outwards, slapping her nose with the expert care of a boxer while simultaneously grabbing the back of her throat. First Lieutenant Jamet Reals, hardened Academy graduate and decorated ship's crew, audibly gagged on the smell as one hand came up to cover her mouth. "By the stars-"

  A haggard demon staggered out of the darkness to lean heavily against the door, kicking an empty plastic bottle into the corridor. "Who the hell is making all that noise?" Untrimmed brown hair stuck out in shaggy clumps that did nothing to compliment a heavy jowled face that hadn't kissed a razor in days, if not weeks. Bloodshot blue eyes squinted hard against the corridor lights. "Paul? That you?" The ghosts of drinks past followed every word, wafting directly into Jamet's horrified eyes. "You better have caf for me or I might not live through this."

  Stunned, Jamet slowly tracked eyes downwards and up again. Pieces of his outfit might be official but they were so stained it was hard to tell. A jacket was tied around his bulging waist like some sort of fashion statement; both boots were missing and a revealed sock had a prominent tear for a hairy toe to protrude through. But the dangling sleeves had gilded slashes, and a discarde
d hat in the corner sported silver and gold wings.