The Alpha Protocol: Alpha Protocol Book 1

by Duncan M. Hamilton

  ‘I’m afraid I disagree,’ he said. ‘We’ve no reason beyond wishful thinking to believe the beacon got a message away. I’ve given my orders, and that’s the end of it.’

  ‘It’s not that straightforward,’ she said. ‘I can’t let you endanger our lives by disregarding protocol. Reaction matter cascades aren’t something to be taken lightly. No more lightly than what I’m about to do.’

  Vachon and Kushnir stepped through the hatch onto the bridge, both with their sidearms drawn. Samson let out a sigh.

  ‘Lieutenant Samson, in accordance with naval regulations, I’m relieving you of command for your failure to observe proper protocol in relation to the fragmentation of the ship’s reaction matter and thus recklessly endangering all the lives on board.’

  Samson remained silent for a moment, and could see the look of concern on her face that she might have to use force to get him out of the command chair. He could also see the resolution in that expression. If she had to use it, she was prepared to. There was little he could do. He had left his pistol with the rest of his kit in the master’s cabin, although he suspected it had already been confiscated.

  ‘If that signal didn’t go out, we’re all dead,’ Samson said, speaking now to the two sailors on the bridge in the hope they might reconsider their support. ‘You’ve nothing to go on but some static and hope. Even if it did, help might not arrive in time. Do you really think that gives us a better chance than continuing on?’

  ‘It’s a risk,’ Harper said, ‘but it’s a better one than the choice you’d have us all make.’

  ‘As soon as you shut the power plant down, that’s it. There’s no way you can start it up again without fracturing the reaction matter further. That’ll guarantee a cascade.’

  ‘It’s going to cascade anyway. We’ll make air and food until it shows the first sign of starting, then eject it. It’s the proper way to deal with this scenario.’

  ‘You’re damning us all,’ Samson said. His temper was rising, but he was powerless to express it. They’d shoot him dead before he could get to them. ‘At least with my way, we have a fighting chance.’

  ‘Step aside quietly and this won’t have to go badly for any of us.’

  Faced with two armed men, Samson was the only one it was likely to go badly for.

  ‘It doesn’t look like I have any choice,’ he said, satisfied that he hadn’t won the sailors over to his point of view. He stood and offered his hands. Was this what it had been like for the captains who mutinied the Fifth Fleet? ‘Will you be cuffing me?’

  ‘I’ll be satisfied with your word that you won’t resist,’ Harper said. ‘If you don’t cause any trouble, as soon as help gets here, I’ll be happy for us to forget about the whole thing.’

  ‘I’m sure you will be,’ Samson said. He knew only too well that mutiny was a capital offence.

  ‘Mister Vachon, please escort Lieutenant Samson to the master’s quarters.’

  ‘Aye, ma’am,’ Vachon said. He gestured for Samson to move with a flick of his head.

  Samson did as he was commanded and moved toward the hatch. He briefly entertained the idea of making a move for Vachon’s pistol when he got closer, but with Kushnir looking trigger-happy a few paces away, Samson reckoned it would be a mistake. Things would change as they drifted through space and started to run out of supplies. He only hoped it wouldn’t be too late for him to do anything about it.

  Vachon and Kushnir brought him down the corridor to the master’s cabin. Samson cast Vachon a glance.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on the reaction matter?’

  ‘I’ll be going right back once we’re done here,’ he said.

  ‘I wonder what’s worse, the firing squad for mutiny or dying in the explosion from a cascade?’

  ‘No need to be like that, sir. We’re just doing what we think’s for the best. For all of us.’

  The mention of all of them got Samson thinking. He’d seen no sign of Price or the other Marines being involved in this. He was left alone with that question when Vachon closed and locked the door. Samson saw his holster hanging empty where he had left it, then sat on the edge of the bed. It was so filthy, even now he was reluctant to lie on it.

  9

  The master’s cabin on Arlen’s Bounty in no way deserved the title. On any other ship, the lowest-ranking sailor would have been horrified at being told to bunk there. It was filthy and stank of sweat and stale smoke—a foul habit that seemed to be kept in existence by long-haul freighter crews. It was small, the paintwork was faded, chipped, and stained, and the head looked like it might pose a health hazard. How anyone could make their home in such a place was a mystery to Samson, but for the time being it was his entire universe.

  As incommodious as the cabin was, Samson wasn’t excited by the sound of a curt knock on the cabin door before it started to open. He looked up, curious as to who it would be and what they wanted. He was wondering if the crew had had a change of heart, or if they’d decided pushing him out of an airlock would be better for all involved. He reckoned the latter was more likely, and was in no way encouraged by Sergeant Price’s steely face greeting him when the door completed its laborious and faltering opening.

  ‘Lieutenant,’ Price said.

  ‘Guard duty for a sergeant?’

  Price shrugged. ‘Mind if I come in a moment?’

  ‘By all means,’ Samson said, still unable to work out from Price’s demeanour if they were working their way toward his execution.

  Price closed the door and leaned back against it, leaving Samson to sit on the small stool by the desk.

  ‘What can I do for you, Sergeant?’

  He looked about the foul cabin, a look of disdain on his face. ‘Quite a bind we’re in,’ he said. ‘Half of it’s of our own making, which is worse in my book.’

  Samson shrugged, not really sure how to reply. He still hadn’t been able to compartmentalise how he was feeling into a describable emotion.

  ‘I won’t claim to know the ins and outs of engineering,’ Price said, ‘but I do understand a bit about how a breakdown in discipline during an emergency can affect your chances of surviving.’

  He paused for a moment, studying Samson, although Samson wasn’t sure what he was looking for.

  ‘Lieutenant Harper’s a good officer,’ Price said. ‘But her parents were killed on a transport that was destroyed after a cascade. Because of that, I’m not sure she’s considering the realities of our situation. Blindly following procedure does as much harm as good.’

  Samson relaxed a little on hearing his own opinion repeated back to him. ‘I’m inclined to agree,’ he said. ‘But there’s not much that can be done. She’s taken command.’

  Price nodded thoughtfully. ‘I can’t say I’m keen on the idea of drifting through space in the hope that someone will happen upon us. In a Core System, maybe. But here? I don’t reckon we can count on the Sidewinder’s beacon having launched in time. Nobody will save us but ourselves. This isn’t something we can leave to chance.’

  ‘What do you suggest, then?’ Samson said.

  ‘You’re the officer in command—and senior, what with you being an Academy graduate. Lieutenant Harper didn’t consult me on what she was planning. She knew I’d have stopped her, but reckoned once the deed was done I’d fall in line. She’s got that wrong. The fact is, your plan strikes me as the best one, and you are the rightful master of this vessel.’

  Samson considered what Price was suggesting. There was the real chance Harper or the sailors could be killed. Or Price, his Marines, and Samson. It wasn’t at all how he had seen his first command going. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the blood of his crewmates on his hands, but he realised that his hand had been forced. No naval officer worth his salt would adopt a softly-softly approach to dealing with mutineers. It was nasty business, but the Navy wasn’t a place for shrinking violets.

  ‘Your Marines are with you?’

  Price nodded.

  ‘Fine,�
�� Samson said. ‘You’re the expert in this stuff, so I’ll defer to you on the operational side, but if we can do it without killing anyone…’

  Price gave a thin-lipped grimace. ‘It’s about taking back the ship, sir. Everything else comes second.’

  ‘I understand that,’ Samson said, ‘but when it comes to it, we might need them if we hope to get the ship to the depot safely. Harper is the only signals officer, so we’ll need her to make the Nexus transmission when we get back to the depot.’

  ‘I’ll do my best, but if it’s a question of them or us, it’ll be them every time.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Samson said, a sick feeling settling in his stomach.

  ‘We’ll hit hard and fast, and I’ve given Lieutenant Harper no reason to think I’m not with her. If they’re surprised, chances are there won’t be any resistance. We’ll pop a couple of stun grenades into the bridge. With a bit of luck their reaction won’t be to start shooting off rounds and we’ll have them restrained before they know what’s what.’

  Samson nodded. Stun grenades might mean he could regain control with no loss of life. He wondered what it said about him that he didn’t have the natural killer instinct usually expected of officers dealing with mutiny. Perhaps it was the unique nature of their situation. Perhaps it was the fact he wasn’t entirely convinced his course of action was the correct one. Either way, it was no time to entertain notions of self-doubt.

  ‘When will you be ready to go?’ Samson said.

  ‘As soon as you give the word.’

  ‘Go.’

  Price’s two Marines were waiting for them in the corridor, dressed once more in their boarding suits. While it was only to be expected, there was something about the sight of them dressed this way that sent a chill over Samson’s skin. Marines were scary. Marines in boarding suits were truly terrifying.

  ‘We’ve secured Mister Vachon, Sergeant,’ Corporal Féng said.

  Samson wasn’t sure how to take the knowledge that Price had ordered one of the mutineers to be restrained before consulting him, but he supposed it was little different to having knocked out a guard at the door to gain access to him.

  ‘Breach and stun,’ Price said.

  Féng and Smit nodded and started to advance down the corridor at a slow jog with their carbines levelled and ready to fire. Samson found himself praying that no one chose that moment to leave the bridge and visit the head. There would be no stun grenades for them. Price held out his hand to indicate Samson should remain where he was, and followed. They formed up at the door much as they had when they’d first boarded the ship.

  There were muted calls of ‘ready’, then one of the Marines hit the door release. It opened far more smoothly than it had the first time, Kushnir’s application of soap and fresh grease showing some dividends. Samson didn’t see the stun grenades thrown, but he heard their clinking on the metal floor panels. Then there was a blinding flash from the hatch and, an instant later, a concussive bang that rattled Samson’s ears even at his distance, making him regret not having had time to don his own boarding suit.

  The Marines advanced onto the bridge, shouting in their aggressive Marine way as they went. He realised he was holding his breath as he listened out for gunshots above the ringing in his ears from the grenade. He could easily imagine how much more debilitating their effects were up close. With luck, no one would die.

  Price appeared out of the door a moment later, easy to identify even in his boarding suit by the way he walked long before his rank flashes and nameplate were distinguishable.

  ‘The bridge is yours, sir,’ he said. ‘No casualties.’

  Samson breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you, Sergeant. Confine and separate the prisoners. I’m going to need to talk with them at the first opportunity.’

  ‘Aye, sir.’

  Samson went up to the bridge, where a dazed Harper and Kushnir were being put into restraints. He would have given them both a withering look, but he didn’t reckon either of them were capable of recognising it. Now that order was restored, his confused emotions had crystallised into anger. However, it was difficult to wish immediate punishment on the pathetic specimens before him. Kushnir had thrown up on himself, and Harper looked like she might not be far behind. Price relayed the orders, and they went about carrying them out, leaving Samson alone on the bridge once more, this time accompanied by the faint smell of vomit.

  His first act was to check how far Harper had progressed with her plans. They were stationary and the power plant had been idled back, but it was still running. She had been careful—procedure again—and been in the process of doing it slowly. He’d have to be equally slow and careful powering up to the level where it could produce plasma for thrust. Only then would they be able to get underway again. He hesitated before inputting the command—he’d have been much happier with Vachon down in the engineering bay keeping an eye on things. As it was, Samson was getting a taste of what it had been like for Arlen running the ship on his own. It was little wonder the Bounty was in such a state of squalor.

  As he sat in the command chair thinking through the steps of what lay ahead, he knew he couldn’t do it alone. Price and his Marines were no use for running the ship—that wasn’t their area. He needed sailors. Specifically, an engineer and a signals officer. Kushnir was a useful pair of hands to have, but he was just a rating, and one of the Marines could do most of his tasks. Samson was well within his rights to push him out the nearest airlock, and he couldn’t deny he was tempted to do just that. But what effect would that have on the others? Would such a response turn the Marines against him? Would it destroy any chance of getting Harper and Vachon to cooperate to the level he needed?

  He wondered if there was any way he could get by without them. Arlen had, but he hadn’t needed to deal with a power plant that was teetering on the edge of spectacular failure, nor the spectre of a hostile ship with tremendous firepower. The simple fact was that their survival odds were far higher with Vachon in the engine room. Only Harper could operate the Nexus relay if they made it back to the depot, so he’d need her to send a message back to command. There were other ways to get a message back to the Core, but they were glacially slow by comparison. It meant there were alternatives, though, so while she was convenient, she was expendable. Spacing her and Kushnir might well do more harm than good.

  Once the ship was committed to Samson’s plan, they would depend on its success as much as anyone. He hoped that would be enough to get what he needed out of them. Once they got to the depot and the message was sent, they could have a far franker conversation. One that would happen close to an airlock.

  Having made the decision to allow them all to live, at least for the time being, Samson set the power plant to a slow cycle back up to the minimum level needed for propulsion, and left the bridge to find out what Price had done with the mutineers.

  Price had left a Marine to guard each door behind which their prisoners resided.

  ‘I’d like to speak with Mister Vachon,’ Samson said.

  ‘Lieutenant Harper’s in here,’ Price said. ‘Smit’s on Mister Vachon.’ He gestured to Smit, who was standing at the next door along the corridor. Smit let Samson in, where he found Vachon sitting on the edge of the mattress-less bed, a forlorn look on his face.

  ‘Do you really think the Sidewinder got a signal away?’ Samson said, dispensing with any greeting or words of chastisement.

  ‘I don’t know, sir. Can’t discount it.’

  ‘You saw the wreckage scans. Sidewinder disintegrated almost instantly.’

  Vachon shrugged. ‘There’s a possibility.’

  ‘A slim one, and not one I’m willing to stake my life, or anyone else’s, on. I’m powering the ship back up, and will be getting her underway as soon as she’s ready. I need you to keep an eye on the reaction matter. The simple fact is you are now a mutineer, and Sergeant Price will be only too happy to help me throw you out of the nearest airlock. Carry out the task that I need of you, and we can di
scuss what I’m going to put in my report when we get to the relay.’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Refuse, and you’ll be going for a swim in the next five minutes,’ Samson said, allowing his anger to flavour his voice. ‘I’m not going to lie to you. As far as I’m concerned, your career is over. I’ll make damned sure of that, but if you help, and we make it through this, I’ll not send you to a firing squad. That’s your deal.’

  ‘If we have to eject en route, we’ll be adrift, but millions of kilometres from where Sidewinder sent the distress signal.’

  ‘From where it might have been sent. Something we have no worthwhile evidence of. Your solution is to not even bother trying to save ourselves. That’s not my way. That’s not the Navy way. I’m giving a chance to get yourself somewhat out of the mess you’ve made, and help keep us all alive. It’s up to you now. Help, or step out of the airlock.’

  ‘We’ll have a better chance if the matter’s being monitored and teased. I can hardly say no.’

  ‘Good,’ Samson said. He wondered if he should have one of Price’s Marines keep him under watch. He didn’t need the Marines for anything right now, so it made sense. ‘You can resume your duties. Follow my orders to the letter. I will not give you another chance.’

  ‘Aye, sir. I’ll do my duty.’

  ‘Good. Return to duty in the engineering bay. Smit will be keeping an eye on you.’

  Samson turned to leave.

  ‘It wasn’t anything personal, sir. Lieutenant Harper was just doing what she thought was for the best.’

  Samson felt his anger flare. He thought about responding to that, but then thought better of it. ‘You know what you have to do, Mister Vachon. See that you do it.’

  Samson paused outside once the door closed behind him. Who next, Kushnir or Harper? He didn’t need Harper yet, so he could leave her to sweat for a while. That was the least she deserved. Kushnir, he didn’t need at all. He was the youngest of the bunch, probably the easiest to influence. Samson wondered if he should go easier on him because of that. From considering spacing him to going easy on him in moments—not the most consistent display of leadership. Something else to work on.