Silent

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Victor knew otherwise. Being a communication officer it was all he did, listen to the screams of static and the howls of the void. It was his first Slowsleep and he awoke to a frightful gasp as his body attempted to draw in more oxygen following a hit of drugs and adrenaline.

“Wakey, wakey,” said a nurse, placing a towel over his shoulders.

Victor attempted to catch his breath, the gasping quickly turned into a coughing fit as grog and mucus spat on the sleek black floors of the medical bay, alerting a domestic mechoid to clean the area.

“We’re here?” asked Victor, spitting the last bit of mucus from his mouth.

“The Neptunian system? We arrived about a week ago,” replied the nurse.

“Quick, help me up."

Victor staggered and found his feet, his head pounded as a cold sweat soaked his thermals.

“Take it easy,” relayed the nurse as Victor made his way to the door. “Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?”

Victor gripped the door frame and turned his gaze back to her. “Unless you have any nanobots that can help, I think I’ll opt for a coffee, madam.”

He left quickly and despite the Slowsleep hangover he filled with anticipation as he made haste towards his personal cabin. It was the first Union colonial mission to Triton and he was looking to make a name for himself. Being a skilled worker he found his place easily on the mission. Unlike Vill or Jay back home, who are stuck on the universal credit and without talent, they could only dream of the fortunes that would await. So Victor planned to make contacts and put a word in. Everything he could do. Hoping to liberate them from the constant grind of an automated, no work regime.

Approaching his accommodation, the lights turned on with his presence, revealing the dull loneliness of his quarters. A small room, which comprised of a wardrobe tucked beneath his bed and a table.

“Hello Victor,” an AI welcomed. His cabin’s displaywrap burst into life and brought a vivid display across the room’s sleek, seemless white walls.

“Morning Bot, view mission summary.”

“Quick to leave the med bay post Slowsleep?” Bot asked, relaying a concern protocol.

Victor smiles and replies, “The sooner I get to the comm tower, the less motion sickness from the artificial grav.”

“Understood,” responds Bot as the room’s walls become a light with streaming data.

“Bot, verbal display,” Victor demands as he dresses for his shift, opening the wardrobe drawer and removing his Union officer’s uniform.

“7th of September, 88 N.E. onboard colonial ship UNS Luxspei on route to Triton in the Neptunian system, total personnel four thousand, two hundred and twelve. Mission time is one year, two days and thirteen hours.”

Fastening his uniform, the indigo blue fabric slips and caresses through his fingers as he brushes off the years’ worth of unfiltered dust. The jacket hardly weighed a thing, dense with a layer of insulation and carbon nanotubes it seals instantly with the rest of his wear. Deciding to leave off his emergency inflatable helmet and breathing apparatus, he opts to show his Union emblem and colours with pride; he dons his shoulder mantles.

“Any messages from home, Bot?”

“Messages from Luna city are zero, Victor,” Bot replies.

Puzzled and worried, he picks up his thought interfacing Thinkpiece and inserts it into his ear. “Any messages?”

“Forteen corrupt. Situation is ship wide. Acting Governor, Captain Kwil is ongoing with enquiries.”

“Communication team status?”

“Active communication team is First Communications Officer Victor Walt, Technician Connor Trey and Technician Gill Gardner.”

“That’s enough, thank you Bot.”

On exit from his cabin a personal display linked to his Thinkpiece appears on the wall’s displaywrap and follows him down the corridor. Feeling the urge, he reaches and touches the sleek, smooth walls and glides his hands along without a break from a bolt or seem. Moving his grip to the railing, it felt cold, like the dry, stale air which surrounded him. He was used to the colony life and very few solar dwellers have every tasted true home, not the fresh air of the ocean’s mist or even the morning dew carried in the breeze at sunrise.

After acquiring his coffee, the approach to the Communications station greeted as the hatch swooshed open with a pleasant tone. The comm room was oval shaped and a sharp light of the surrounding displays shielded Neptune’s beautiful glaze through the observation windows which encircled. A holographic display in the centre of the room pinpointed the 3D position of a signal’s source in relation to the ship and other celestial bodies. Peer workstations also encircled the room, tidy, yet now littered with clutter from his skeleton crew.

“Morning, Connor, Gill.”

The communication team sprawled back on their chairs. “Morning Victor,” they both replied.

“Slowsleep sickness any better than the hangover from the leaving party?” Connor joked.

Victor smirks while taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ve had worse,” he says as he grips Connor’s chair and peers at his display.

“Status? What’s the issue with the communication array? Why are the Colony modules still onboard?”

“Sorry to wake you from the Slowsleep early, but Jason took a turn,” Connor replies.

“Not happy his boy didn’t get into Highdawn? Obviously, I’ve yet to see the news broadcasts,” said Victor as he lifts his cup and takes another sip from his frothy beverage.

“Maybe fear of the remote location? Freaked out and stole a shuttle.”

“Stole a shuttle to go where?”

Connor spins around in his chair to the holographic display in the centre of the room. Using his Thinkpiece the hologram’s image shifts to a lone shuttle passing the void towards Uranus. “Obviously, he won’t answer our messages.”

“Where did he get the anti-matter from? Those Scellion class shuttles don’t store enough for a quick multi-planetary transit.”

“I assume he took it from the Luxspei’s reserves and is storing it in the shuttle’s crew hold. He was acting suspicious around engineering the day before he disappeared. A few anti-matter cartridges did go missing.”

“Alot of effort to chicken out, I mean look at that beauty,” said Victor, turning his gaze back to the window.

Connor swivels back around to his workstation and locks his eyes with his display. “Anyway, we have two hundred awake colonists, and we are performing diagnostics on the long-range communication array.”

Victor smirks at Connor’s apparent shared fear. “Don’t tell me you plan on swiping a shuttle for yourself also?”

“I think I’ll be fine until we get down onto Triton’s surface.”

Victor's smirk continues. “Do we have communications with a ground team?”

“We’re just waiting to complete an orbit to re-establish communication with Doctor Xian’s expedition team."

“You’d wonder why the Great Foundation never touched Triton? I mean, once the Trisect Consortium construct the artificial sun in orbit here, this place has potential.”

Connor raises his eyebrows and pulls up data on his display. “Funny you say that. There is. Scans have found several Foundation settlements on the surface, and an old abandoned Union outpost.”

“Then why bother to take the colony modules? Are they claimed?” Victor responds with a jarring intrigue.

“Apparently not. The ban from entering Triton was only recently lifted. I assume the reason we brought our own colony modules is that the newer technology they would send here for deep space testing required the newer equipment.”

“A reasonable explanation. I’m sure the Captain will want to claim all of them for the Union. The more space, the better,” said Victor, turning his attention to Gill, who is sitting unusually quiet. “Gill? Everything alight?”

“Picking up something unusual on high frequency scanners, sir.” he stutters.

“I don’t want to hear any more about your radical Cryptscendent beliefs or outlandish alien theories!” Victor orders while pacing to Gill’s workstation.

Peering over his shoulder, Victor’s jaw drops as he witnesses an object darting around on the display.

“What kind of craft can maneuver that way?” he quizzes.

Connor now on Victor’s heels hoping to see the mysterious object blurts out, “The Sol Directive beaten us to it?”

“What? The Foundation settlements or the propulsion technology?” Victor barks.

Gill raises his head, “I’ve seen nothing like it, the speed, the turns. How is that even possible?”

Victor takes another look out of the window before the centrifugal spin hides the object from view. A ball of white light zips around the Triton horizon, blinking and flashing. It was clearly not any form natural phenomenon.

“That’s near Doctor Xian’s expedition location,” remarked Connor, now peering over Victor’s shoulder looking out of the window.

In an instant, the craft shoots off into the void, making Victor jolt and spill his coffee. Turning to his team, he places his cup down and wipes the coffee stains from his outfit. “I’m definitely not going to blame the coff….” a screech and static interrupts. Touching his Thinkpiece he quickly tries to open communications to Doctor Xian.

“Colonial ship UNS Luxspei to Doctor Xian, colonial ship UNS Luxspei to Doctor Xian!” he pleads in an attempt to make contact.

Without a response, the static continues. Hissing and grinding, the static turns violent as if a storm of wasps had started to rattle the entire comm station.

“For fuck’s sake, Connor, get to your station!” Victor shouts in an effort to regain control as the static becomes even more ferocious.

Frantically hitting manual switches on his display, an anxious Connor turns back to Victor. “Sir, it’s Xian’s shuttle. It isn’t the communication array.”

Then a sharp, sudden silence. Confused and stressed, Victor looks back to Gill, who is again glued to his display. “Gill, for fuck’s sake, locate Doctor Xian’s shuttle.”

“Sir look! His shuttles on course to dock,” he replies.

In relief, Victor touches his Thinkpiece and connects to the bridge.

“Comms to the bridge. We have radio miscommunications with Doctor Xian, they’re on course to dock in the main forward hangar,” he relays.

“Captain Kwil here, copy that. We have taken remote control of the shuttle. Standby for orders.”

“Acknowledged, Captain,” Victor responds.

Rubbing his head, Victor picks up his now empty coffee cup. “Gill, head up to the hangar and check that shuttle’s communication equipment.”

“Uh, yes, sir. But are we not going to let the ship know about that object we just saw?” Gill asked.

“I’ll head to the bridge now. I’m sure the Captain would prefer this off record. Continue running diagnostics, Connor.”

Connor acknowledges his orders, and Gill follows as they leave. The corridors of the communication tower felt eerily silent. The odd thud of doors and hatches throughout the ship echoed with a stinging chill that raised the hairs on the back of Victor’s neck.

“Was it always this eery? Or did that situation just get to me, Gill?”

“I’ve been awake the whole time you slept, sir. It was worse passing the void.”

“Maybe it was just the void that got to Jason.”

Arriving at the elevator, the doors slid open, “upwards to the main corridor and then the main hanger,” Victor said to his Thinkpiece.

The elevator didn’t move. “Gill, is your Thinkpiece registering?”

“I’m trying sir, try hitting the manual buttons.”

A few taps of the display and the elevator doors slid shut with relief and began climbing towards the main centrifuge. The artificial gravity became more and more disorienting as Victor could feel himself falling to one side. Then the elevator gave out a ring, and the doors slid open. “Main corridor,” a Bot’s voice relayed.

Victor exited, and the door slid shut behind him, carrying Gill to the large, cylindrical, hollow hangar above. The large broad main corridor stretched for atleast five hundred metres in front of him. With other corridors and rooms branching and curving upwards from the flanks, he was still yet to see any other crew members, or even colonists. With his Thinkpiece still failing to respond with the wall’s displaywrap he attempts the manual commands to contact the Captain.

“Captain, can you hear me?” Victor calls.

“Go ahead, Officer Walt.”

“Me and my team are experiencing technical issues with our Thinkpieces.”

“Understood. Are you alone, Officer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take the transit cart to Security. It’s on route to you now. We need to discuss Officer Jason Gerralds desertion.”

“Security?”

“We have obtained something from his quarters. We need you to have a look at it.”

A humming nearby signals the arrival of the transit cart, which halts inches behind him. “Understood sir, on route,” he responds while climbing the step and taking his seat.

“Acknowledged,” says the Captain as he disconnects the call.

The cart burst into motion, moving quickly and sharply through the conjoining corridors the windows on the ceiling showed a glimpse into the hangar above. Bright with dozens of shuttles and drones parked and stuck to the surrounding curve of the centrifuge. It showed only a portion of the gigantic ship. Being nearly a kilometer in length the hangar stretched for over six hundred metres of it. With the solid shell below, the crew areas only comprised of one floor and the centrifuge itself. The communication and observation tower, both armed from the centre. Protruding from a gap in the shell, it moved with the centrifuge.

Arriving at the Security station, Victor disembarked to the head of security Jun and a security team of twenty armed Union Guards. Captain Kwil and his chief engineer Abdu stood scratching their heads around a white box which was no bigger than Victor’s fist. A small screen on the device displayed random letters and words which flickered and changed constantly.

“What is it?” Victor asked.

“You tell me. Bot relay the same data to Officer Walt.” Captain Kwil orders.

“Officer Gerralds was receiving information from this device. He believed it was coming from an outside source. Analysis from his Thinkpiece showed he received the message: Jason, Jason, Jason, Hall, Fire, Gold, The, The, The, Dark, King, Read, Jump, Plan, Plan, Plan, Plan, Opera, Window, Weather, Has, Has, Has, Has, Ink, Art, Failed, Failed, Failed, Vault, Power, Uranus, Uranus, Uranus, Uranus, Click, Draw, Quebec, Line, Now, Now, Now, Now, Now, Now, Now, Run, Run, Run, Run, Run.”

Victor paused for a moment. “And you need my help to understand where the box is receiving the messages from?”

“It isn’t receiving any messages, Officer Walt. It’s a completely closed off system.”

Abdu steps forward. “The device is nothing but a word bank linked to a random number generator.”

“So Jason went crazy?” Victor questions.

“It doesn’t explain why he received the message: Jason, the plan has failed, Uranus, now run. What’s the odds a random word generator would read out that message?” Kwil enquires.

A smile fills Victor’s face as he leans toward towards the device with intrigue. This is what he wanted. Something new, unexplored, and unique. “Do you think it can send messages?”

“Do you think we would be asking you if we knew? Is there anything in your experience that would suggest an unconventional way this device could be receiving signals?” Kwil asked.

Holding onto his smile, Victor replies, “Growing up in Luna city, we used to hear stories about the Unshadowed. They knew fringe tech, but I never heard about anything like this.”

“Unshadowed? Radicals?”

“It’s all perspective, Captain.”

“What I want to know is, what failed and why did he need to run to Uranus?”

“I was on the way to tell you about another mystery, Captain. Me and my team, we saw something even stranger.”

Before the Captain could respond, the entire ship plunges into darkness. Emergency sirens start to roar throughout the ship.

“For fuck’s sake, what now?!” Screams Kwil, approaching the wall’s displaywrap.

“Containment breach in the main hangar,” Bot relayed.

“Bot, silence alarms and restore lighting!” Kwil orders the ship AI. “All security, get up there and make sure Xian and his team aren’t any of those radicals!” he continued.

Jun nods and signals his guards to follow, brushing and nearly knocking over Victor on their exit, he feels compelled to join them. “Captain. Gill was checking the shuttle’s communication equipment. Maybe I should accompany the security team?”

“Captain. Gill was checking the shuttle’s communication equipment. Maybe I should accompany the security team?”

“Return to your station, officer.”

“If I have your permission then, Captain. I would like to take this device to study. If our long-range communications aren’t working, then it might provide a way to reestablish contact with the Union.”

“Go ahead then, officer."

Victor acknowledges and leaves quickly. Taking the device with him, he jumps back on the cart and makes haste back to the elevator. The windows on the ceiling into the hangar were now black and filled with darkness. Not even movement or a blinking light beacon’d from the internal void.

His thoughts continued to run and disembarking the elevator at the bottom of the tower, his craving for another coffee seemed to spike. Entering the tower’s commune, his Thinkpiece still failed to register on the dispenser. In frustration, Victor opens the manual panel and starts hitting switches. The dispenser buzzes to life and the noise of a new falling cup seems to mask the sound of an echoing scream. Victor pauses and quickly scans behind him. Convinced his mind is playing tricks, he returns back to his fresh brew.

“Sir!” a voice cries at the communes entrance. Victor again turns sharply and is met with Connor, standing pale white and frozen.

“Connor? What is it?” Victor asks, filling with worry.

“The hangar’s security feed! We need to abandon ship!” he cries.

“What? Calm down!”

Then a bang, and then several bangs followed. The commune’s windows became a flare with escape capsules blasting towards Triton’s surface. Victor moves to the displaywrap and with a touch all of the walls became unreadable. A waving static engulfs the entire room, waving them in a curtain of light and darkness. Connor lets out a subtle wimp before bolting into the dark corridor. Filling with overwhelming fear, Victor tosses his coffee to the side and sprints after.

“Connor! Slow down!” Victor pleads, hoping not to be left behind.

Then a thud, then another thud and the entire tower plunges into complete darkness. Connor’s silhouette had disappeared into the dark abyss ahead, and Victor struggled to keep pace. The thudding continued, and he had noticed each breath was becoming more and more unfulfilling. Every inch of his being had started to panic. He had left his emergency breathing apparatus in his quarters. Like a drowning swimmer trapped beneath the ice, he began to scramble to find his exit. It made little sense. There was no decompression and there should be more than enough oxygen in the air to survive for days.

Then another bang. Connor had found his escape capsule, and the sound was a guide to his safety. Then another thud and a wallop to his rear. The noise of scuttling and movement gave chase. Looking over his shoulder, the darkness seemed to follow. The shadows moved, climbed, and twisted to his flanks.

Then he found it, the emergency light beacon’d, and he was in luck. There was a single capsule remaining and without a second look, he threw himself in and slammed the hatch behind him. Grabbing the emergency air supply, he took his draw, and in the final moments before blasting from the Luxspei he noticed a familiar face peering through the hatch window. Gill. His skin was shredded and pale. Alive yet lifeless. His eyes were full of an oily black, which dripped to his chin. His movements were ferocious and fears, sudden and sharp. It wasn’t a man thudding on the hatch door, but an instinctive machine.