Soundless Conflicts

by S. Walker

  The display over her half-busted console showed a full-color picture of Upper Executive Rachel Targer, with a prominent red "Access Denied" beneath it.

  Chapter 31

  Negotiated Identities

  "I'm getting my flamethrower." Emilia pointed. "You guys hold that thing down until I can burn it."

  Paul wasn't amused. "I highly doubt our lieutenant is some sort of shapeshifter." He stood and crossed the bridge, eyeing Jamet's injuries the whole way. "Even if she were, you cannot fake a personal ID. Let me look at those." He ran practiced hands over her sides, then gently prodded near the torn patch over her ribs.

  "Ahhh, easy!" She flinched away. "I'm a bit tender in the... everywhere right now. Emilia, seriously, can you just scrub the ship systems? Please?"

  "Sure thing, Imposter-ble." She crossed both armed defiantly. "Just as soon as I get an explanation on how you ended up with someone else's credentials. That is some seriously creepy stuff, did you whack her whole arm off? Skin her alive?" Emilia seemed to think this over. "Actually, I'm strangely okay with that."

  Siers leaned over the edge of the CEO workstation, eyes interested. "I second the question, but not the torture."

  Jamet hissed as Paul hit a particularly painful spot while rotating her shoulder. "Does this hurt? Moving forward, or outward?"

  She made horrible faces at the overhead lights. "More out than forward but owww either way."

  "Strained supraspinatus, then." He gently lowered her arm, then thought for a moment. "Lieutenant at this point I am a hair away from ordering you to quarters. You have more major muscle groups damaged than working correctly-- I am slightly impressed you are still moving around."

  "Tell me about it." Jamet eased an empty bottle out of her pocket, setting it on the console. "Mind giving me another of these?"

  Both eyebrows shot up in alarm. "That was supposed to last five days, lieutenant."

  "Yup."

  "It has been forty eight hours."

  "Yuuup." She gave him a weak thumbs-up. "Did a great job. Want me to sign off on some kind of glowing advertisement...? Because I would. Even without being paid for it."

  Paul rolled his eyes, then took the bottle with him back to Medical. Janson took his place, kneeling next to her workstation and looking concerned. "Hell of a bruised cheek you got there, LT." He motioned to the scratches on her face. "Got some claw marks, too. Ah admit to being a little curious 'bout this whole mess, but if you don't want to talk that's fine."

  "Disagree!" Emilia's small hands waved in the air. "Strongly disagree! Spill it!"

  Tired and sore, Jamet rested one elbow on her console to take some weight off her injured ribs. It seemed to work surprisingly well, so rather than fight the inevitable she just kept going until she was practically laying on the cool surface. That left her uninjured arm free to gesture towards Comms. "It's a long story, but the short version is I have Targer's personal ident key as my wrist ID now."

  Emilia shook her head immediately. "Nobody can have two keys. I know that tech. It's a scan-reflecting biochip grown right in your freaking arm. Scanners bounce a wave off it," she demonstrated by holding hers over the console, waiting as it pinged her wrist and came to life. "And the reflection off the chip is the signal verifying it's you. Like light bouncing off a ship, or a station, or the deck-- our eyes see the reflection and interpret what it is. Just with a crazy accurate sensor, not poorly designed eyeballs."

  Janson nodded, then gave her slumped form a small pat on the shoulder. "It's more complicated than that, but yeah; Em's got it. You get a long ident number at birth an' a machine takes it, gives a little injection and grows the shape in your wrist. Like eye retinas, or genomes; everyone's is different."

  "Which begs the question, lieutenant." Siers seemed downright amused by Jamet's mostly immobile form. "How did you end up with someone else's personally unique, custom-grown biochip signature?"

  She rolled her wrist in a circular 'hurry up' motion. "Paaauuuuul?"

  "I was coming anyways." He re-crossed the bridge with an injector in hand, then knelt next to Janson to give her a shot. "That is a temporary, twenty minutes only. The amount of painkillers you have taken is approaching saline toxicity-- when your fat cells start dumping byproducts the hangover will be tremendous."

  Jamet slowly settled into the co-CEO chair, sighing in relief. "Ooohhhkay. That is so much better." Then she blinked. "Wait, did you call me fat?"

  "No." Paul put the injector away. "The biochip...?"

  "Oh. Well, Janson is the most right: Every chip is grown. Unique." She flopped her hand in his direction, fingers waving up and down. "The implant machine takes a long, random series of numbers and builds a reflective biochip that matches. That's your ID, for life. The odds of someone else getting the exact same random number is, uh." She thought about it. "Actually, I'm not sure. Lower than the chances of every star in the universe going nova at the exact same time. But," Jamet held up one finger, then aimed it between the quiet engineer and a scowling Paul. "You can grow the exact same chip, if you had the exact same random number."

  She spun her wrist in a 'there you have it' motion. "Ta da."

  "But you can't get that number!" Emilia seemed frustrated. "It's impossible to recreate just by reading the chip, or the whole system wouldn't work at all. It's a two-part system: Your public system profile matches your private chip signature to unlock anything."

  Siers held up a hand, face screwed up in thought. "Actually, there is a way to get the original value." He pointed at Emilia, then her workstation. "Anyone can read their own private information, it's just pointless to do so: You already know who you are."

  "Well, yes, but." Emilia stopped suddenly, thinking. Then she slowly tilted her head to aim a reflective rainbow visor at the lieutenant.

  The very battered, bruised, torn up lieutenant. Currently resting her head across one arm, eyes halfway open and smiling at the small technician. After a moment her hand slowly fisted, thumb extended prominently upwards.

  Emilia's jaw dropped open. "You beat it out of the Executive?" She sat down, hard. "Feeling a little nervous about all that crap I said to you now, Impossible."

  Janson seemed surprised as well... and a little disappointed. "LT? Really?"

  "Oh, fine." Jamet groaned, then pursed both lips and blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. "No. I'm not that awesome. I was just going to threaten her. Remember the system logs we asked Independent Thompson to collect? All the records of every time Targer authorized a blowout or sealed a hatch on her own people?"

  "I recall." If tone of voice had a temperature Siers could have frozen the room. "I take it you let our captive Executive know we had the evidence to ruin her for life?"

  "Actually, I told her we already did that and Corporate signed off on her dismissal. That was just groundwork; had to destroy her house before offering to buy the land." Jamet laughed. "Coming right after seeing the records she didn't question anything, made her panic. Going from Upper Executive to life as an indebted worker? Pretty much collapsed right there."

  "Can I record this?" Emilia asked the room in general. "This is award-winning entertainment feed material." She punched a couple icons on her console. "Screw it, I'm recording. Act like stars, everyone."

  They ignored her. "And then, lieutenant?" Paul leaned on the co-CEO console, hipshot and comfortable. "How did you come to be so injured? Did Targer attack you out of desperation?"

  "Actually, no. She just had a hell of a breakdown. Emilia would have loved it: Lots of 'what do I do now' and 'I can't go on' kind of thing. Almost worth feeling sorry for her, but since she never once asked about her son it was kind of... sorry, can't think of a word."

  "Corporate?" Literally everyone said it at the same time, with equal amounts of disgusted vindication.

  Jamet sighed. "It's really bothering me how accurate that is. Anyways, then it was just a matter of waiting until Targer was curled up in a ball and crying before I-"

  "Please tell me that re
ally happened."

  "-yes, Emilia, it did. Stop interrupting." Jamet raised her voice to be heard over peals of laughter. "Before I offered to set her up with a new identity. Get her a new biochip, maybe fake some documentation, find a spot as a transfer on some Lower Management startup."

  "That would not work." Paul looked bothered by the idea. Then he thought about it. "Alright, that might work, but not for long."

  "But it was a lifeline, and she grabbed it. Only problem was getting her to give up the old personal ident number-- I tried to pass it off that I needed it to match her portfolio to the new identity, get her a better start." Jamet sighed. "Fucked that up. She wasn't that dumb. And the second she smelled something suspicious about why I needed her ident number it became leverage."

  She finally eased backwards into the chair with a pained look, eyes closed and arms gently crossed over hurt ribs. "Aahhh-yowww. Paul, am I supposed to still be feeling this bad?"

  "It will be worse in about fifteen minutes." He twirled a finger. "Wrap it up, Impossible."

  "Sadist. Anyways, she had leverage. Didn't know why I wanted the number, but damn that Exec was better at negotiation than she was at management. Took me hard on that. Speaking of which," she cracked an eye open, aiming it at Siers. "You might need to authorize a pretty large transfer." He waved it off. "So I bought her out and promised a couple things, then got out my console. Unlocked it, demonstrated how to check the biochip ident number. But when I handed it over for her to do the same..."

  Emilia smacked herself in the forehead with one palm. "This is better than the entertainment dramas! You idiot. Classic heroine blunder."

  "Yeah. Thanks for that." Jamet rolled her eyes. "She jumped me. We had a hell of a fight over that console with my ident number on it. If we hadn't been punching each other in zero-g it might have been even worse. Good to know everyone sucks at weightless combat; turns out it is really freaking hard to throw a punch when your body moves backwards just as fast as your fist goes forward." She gingerly touched the top of her head, massaging follicles with tender little circles. "Although I will say you haven't lived until someone swings you into a wall by your own damn hair."

  Janson stood up, frowned downward at the lieutenant and then turned a stare on the bridge hatch. "Ah'll be back in a little while."

  Jamet snagged his overall pocket. "Sit down, you big jerk. That's nice of you. Really. But I got it handled. When the gravity came back on I had her in a headlock-- we fell almost the entire height of the storage room and I landed on top." She made a whistling sound, then cracked a palm onto the console surface. "Lights out. Oh, um, Paul? Maybe go check on the Exec in a bit."

  "Take Janson with you," Siers added. "But first-- the chip?"

  "Oh. After she woke up I had my console wiped clean and ready. Made her read off the whole ident code before guaranteeing the funds transfer. Then it was a stop by Medical to have my own chip chemically broken down-- ow, by the way-- and grew the new one. Knew it worked when I could do this," Jamet closed her eyes and waved her wrist over the co-CEO reader again, getting another angry buzzing sound.

  Siers leaned back, looking thoughtful and slightly proud. "That was... very well done."

  "Ah agree." Janson still looked upset. "Kinda still think ah need to put my Security helmet back on and try out a few of these 'enhanced questioning methods' my chip is recommending."

  "Perhaps next time." He seemed to consider the screen, eyes tracing callouts and icons without seeing them. "Although that does leave us with something of a problem with your access to ship systems. Emilia?"

  "Yes, captain?"

  "If you haven't removed our lieutenant's access yet, I think she has the right idea. Better safe than sorry. Especially if it turns out our Executive happens to have an exceptionally good memory for numbers." Siers tapped his console significantly. "I don't want to think about what could happen if she did manage to impersonate our co-CEO for a bit. Although I imagine finding out she was a Shareholder might bring a special joy to her little black heart."

  Jamet groaned. "Oh shit. I'm so sorry-- I completely forgot about that. Should have transferred my share back to you or Emilia before I even tried this whole setup. Just for safekeeping in case this happened."

  "Wait, what?" Emilia looked surprised, hands flat on the console and eyebrows up. "You'd let me hold your share? Do you have any idea what that is worth?"

  She waved it off without opening her eyes. "A lot, I suppose. But I trust you, so it would be okay."

  With her eyes closed Jamet couldn't see the long, significant look Siers aimed at the short Comms technician. Emilia took the smug message with an annoyed huff, then shook her head and raised both hands in defeat. "Okay, fine! I was wrong about the long trick thing. You were right. Sir. Don't rub it in."

  "Hm?" Jamet cracked an eye.

  "Nothing, lieutenant." Siers looked thoroughly content.

  "Nothing, Impossible." Emilia sounded irritated.

  Paul just smiled to himself, then pushed off the co-CEO's console to stand upright. He gave Jamet a pat on the shoulder ("ow, dammit!") and then addressed Siers. "I think you have put my concerns to rest as well, Impossible. Well done. Captain? If you do not mind I will check on our passengers, my Medical bay and perhaps the Exec. In that exact order, I believe."

  "I approve of your priorities, if not your medical ethics." Siers grinned. "Check in before seeing the Exec, I'll send Janson down just in case."

  Paul nodded, then giraffed his way out of the room one long leg at a time. Emilia tapped console buttons, then made a clicking sound with her tongue. "Annnnd... scene! If that's not a best selling drama in twelve systems by this time next year I'm going to be disappointed. Looking forward to seeing my name in the credits."

  Jamet laughed weakly for a moment, then wound down in exhaustion. "So... what's been going on up here while I was bouncing around in a cargo hold? Anything important?"

  Over six feet of blocky, bearded engineer could radiate a fairly intense amount of guilt when surprised. Janson displayed it in spades, big hands opening and closing on nothing while looking away. "Well, uhhh..."

  Siers cut in smoothly. "Some personal talks. I'll update you in a bit, lieutenant. Actually we need to schedule time to catch you up completely, but... after you've had a long rest period." He pointed at the course drawing on the forward screen, one finger tracking a long, looping arc from the Kipper into the asteroid belt. "I think I have a lifeboat heading plotted that requires very minimal maneuvers. But your expertise on manual adjustments is going to be head and shoulders above mine. And if I've learned anything from watching you handle our arrival in system," he nodded confidently. "It is you are the exact expert we needed on this trip. Full confidence in your abilities."

  Now Jamet looked horribly embarrassed. "Uh, actually, about my qualifications on manual maneuvering..."

  "Yes?"

  She read his open, trusting expression and just couldn't do it. How could she explain four hours of horrific simulator failures followed by navigating entirely on panicked, fear-screaming gut instinct? The Kipper's survival after arriving in system came down to pure dumb luck and not letting her rational mind take control for even a second. It was less "maneuvering" and more "potentially crashing in life-saving ways".

  Jamet chickened out. "I'd like some time to refresh on guiding lifeboats manually." Several days' worth of it, if she could. Anything less would be terrifying.

  "No trouble at all, lieutenant. Get a long rest and some recuperation medication." He beamed and imitated her awkward thumbs up.

  "We'll launch an hour after you wake up."

  Chapter 32

  Behavioral Expectations

  Aldi waited to be blasted into vacuum.