The Alpha Protocol: Alpha Protocol Book 1

by Duncan M. Hamilton

He supposed Price was an ideal choice to man the weapons systems. He was a crack shot with a carbine, and would most likely have trained using fixed gun emplacements. Samson also decided he had to have another talk with Harper. Every upgrade they made could be the difference between life and death. She could be a big help, and he was doing a disservice to the people in his charge if he didn’t do everything within his power to improve the ship. She might not like him, might consider his decision making to be flawed, but until she was tried by court martial she was still an officer and had the same duty to their crewmates that he did.

  With that decision made, he moved the control bay’s diagnostics on to the Bounty’s engine bay. Arlen really hadn’t been interested in his engine—it seemed that so long as it ran, that was good enough for him. Computer modelling suggested upgrades and replacements could double its output, which would comfortably power all the new additions Samson was planning on making. He added these to the work order as a priority.

  He had to consider another matter that would be equally important on an extended voyage. Weapons and power were all well and good, but ships only ran flawlessly when they had a happy crew. With one mutiny under his belt he didn’t want to tempt fate, so that meant replacing the food fabricators and making sure the refurbishments of the crew quarters were up to naval standard. Price had seemed verging on gleeful when Samson sent the instruction to strip out and burn all the old soft furnishings on board. He could only hope a freshly overhauled mess would lift their moods even more. It certainly made the idea of venturing out again in the Bounty a lot more palatable to him.

  Satisfied that he’d created a list of all the major items needing attention—a list that was already too long for them to complete in the time they had available—he forwarded it to Vachon’s personal datapad. He wondered how long it would be before it elicited a reaction.

  When he got back into the hangar, he was impressed by the amount of work that had already been done by the drones. The hull had been stripped back to its bare metal, and damage repair was well underway. When that was finished, the extra armour would be mounted, along with the turrets for the Gauss guns, and then they could paint the Bounty in her new naval colours. Seeing as Commodore Iyabo had added the ship to the Navy List, Samson walked around her trying to work out the best place to emblazon ‘TUS Bounty’ for all who encountered her to see. There were two sections on either side of the hull near the Bounty’s stern that he reckoned would be perfect, and could see the lettering in his mind’s eye.

  The Bounty might have been his first prize command, but now she would be his first official naval command as acting lieutenant commander. It was difficult not to feel a little swell of pride at the thought, but it wasn’t the time for that. The weight that had been lifted from his shoulders when he got the Bounty back to the depot was now firmly on them again, heavier than ever. There would be a huge amount expected of him over the coming days and weeks—far more than any junior lieutenant could ever expect. Or want.

  He watched the drones swarm over the hull, welding repairs in showers of sparks. Would it all be enough? The Bounty would never be a match for even the Sidewinder, no matter what they did. How could she hope to stand up to the unidentified vessel if they encountered it? A naval career had always seemed like an adventure. Now it terrified him.

  Samson hovered outside the door to the brig, wondering if there was any way around letting Harper out. As best he could estimate, without her help, he could have either an upgraded engine or an upgraded bridge suite. To carry out the task assigned to him, he needed both. He hit the chime to let her know someone was coming in, then opened the door.

  Harper stood to attention. A positive start, at least.

  ‘At ease,’ Samson said.

  ‘Permission to speak,’ she said.

  Samson nodded.

  ‘I don’t expect you to forgive me, sir, and I don’t expect you to let things slide. I know I’ve a court martial headed my way, and I know what the outcome of that is going to be. All I ask is that you give me a chance to be useful until that happens. Until the fleet arrives and I’m taken into custody.’

  Samson nodded slowly as he digested the words. It was exactly what he wanted to hear, but he wasn’t sure he believed her, and had no intention of making it easy for her.

  ‘Your conduct has already been recorded in my logs, so there’s no going back on that,’ Samson said, ‘but I’m willing to give you the opportunity to be of use to us now. Your former crewmates and I need all the help we can get. Your assistance may even be viewed as mitigating when it comes to your sentencing. I can’t promise anything, but it can’t hurt.’

  ‘I’d appreciate that opportunity, sir. The Navy has been my life, and I’ve made a complete mess of it. For what it’s worth, I was wrong, and I’m sorry for that. The circumstances were… They were no excuse. I was wrong. I made a mistake.’

  ‘It is what it is,’ Samson said. He didn’t have time for small talk, and didn’t have it in him to forgive her, so he got right to the point. ‘Frontier Command have tasked me with upgrading the Bounty to carry out patrol duties in anticipation of the Third Fleet’s arrival. I have a very short window to carry out those refits, so I need every pair of hands. Can I trust you to carry out software and hardware upgrades on the bridge?’

  ‘You can, sir.’

  Samson nodded. ‘Well, we best get to it then.’

  19

  The two days of retrofit had been exhausting work, with only short breaks for food and sleep. Samson pushed them hard, but they had far more to do than just refitting a ship. Every minute they put in now—every repair, every extra system—could make a difference when they were out on patrol, but he knew he needed to keep them as fresh as he could for when they were actually out there. An exhausted crew, half asleep, was no good to anyone.

  As Samson surveyed what they’d achieved, he felt it was worth the effort. The Bounty looked as Navy-like as she could, her two Gauss guns—mounted on ball turrets, one on each flank—giving her an aggressive demeanour that Samson wouldn’t have believed. Overall, the results had exceeded his expectations. Clad in her new grey livery, she was barely recognisable as the ship he had scanned from the Sidewinder’s bridge. She would never be a thoroughbred warship, but they had made as much of her as they could.

  Vachon had the power plant running with nearly three times the output of Arlen’s days—far in excess of Samson’s hopes. The addition of a dozen banks of power cells in the former cargo hold—which were now being charged—would ensure they could fire the Gauss guns at their maximum operational rate. Upgraded comms and sensors meant they would be able to transmit and receive through the Nexus and would be able to stay in constant contact with Frontier Command.

  Vital areas of the ship had additional layers of armour plating, although they provided only a modest increase of protection to vital systems. Vachon had also been able to modify several internal doors into airtight bulkheads as was standard on naval vessels, creating isolated compartments that would allow the ship to remain effective even in the event of several hull-puncturing hits.

  The thrusters had been cleaned, overhauled, and in many cases upgraded, so the handling and speed would be improved. The food banks had been replenished, the fabricators replaced, and the crew compartments were now as clean, fresh, and comfortable as anything that could be found in naval service. They’d even managed to refinish most of the internal surfaces in naval white. There was enough space in an old storage compartment to have a dedicated commander’s cabin off the bridge—somewhere Samson could find a private moment to himself without being too far away from the centre of things.

  The Bounty was as ready as she would ever be, although Samson did not allow himself to be fooled into thinking she was in shape to do anything but run if they were attacked. A ship that could destroy the Sidewinder would make atoms of the Bounty. The sense of common purpose over the previous two days had helped lift the crews’ spirits, and they seemed more optimis
tic about what lay ahead. The mutineers’ efforts were a clear reflection of their hope of winning more lenient sentences at court martial, but Samson could not fault their work. History was waiting to be written, and if they did their duty diligently, it was likely that all of their names would feature in it. As daunting as his first command seemed, the attraction of that was impossible to deny.

  Samson followed the procedures for a shakedown cruise on the return journey to the Oculus system. He had no intention of finding himself in a tight spot with no response from whatever button he was pressing on to get himself out of it. They tested each of the Bounty’s newly upgraded systems, one by one, until only the final test remained. He had always liked to save the best for last.

  ‘Fire the main batteries,’ Samson said. It was an overly grand way to describe the two Gauss guns, but it was technically correct and he didn’t know if he’d ever have the chance to give that order again.

  The ship juddered as Price followed his orders; the Gauss guns accelerated their projectiles toward an imagined target at the centre of Oculus’s sun. They had been able to do a lot with the Bounty in the short time they’d had available, but installing an inertial dampening system capable of absorbing the kick from Gauss guns was too great an ask. Even so, there was something very satisfying about feeling the entire ship buck under the force of its new weaponry.

  Samson watched the small shots race away at near the speed of light with a feeling of enormous pride. He only wished there was something for them to shoot at. He’d jettisoned some debris to test the computer’s tracking sensors, but it was too inconsequential for a weapons fire test—the Gauss slugs would have passed straight through the rubbish without slowing.

  With one salvo fired, and the ship intact, he was satisfied the guns were ready for a more strenuous test.

  ‘Rapid fire. Commence.’

  Price set about his task with relish. Samson reckoned he was keen to revert to his Marine status as soon as possible, but he clearly enjoyed firing guns whatever their size. The ship juddered with a regular rhythm as the guns fired projectile after projectile at the system’s sun. He watched the levels in the upgraded power banks as the reactor surged energy in to offset the depletion caused by each shot. The status bar on his data panel pulsed up and down, supply matching demand. He knew that wouldn’t be the case if the engines were being run hard or any of the other systems were being pressed, but he was firing them at their maximum safe rate, not something he was likely to do in a combat situation. That meant they’d be able to fire at a potent rate whilst the ship was still making way. All in all, he was coming to like the newly updated Bounty more with each passing minute.

  They had been firing the guns for a full five minutes before he called a halt, happy that he had done enough to be confident the turrets weren’t going to rip themselves from the hull, nor explode and blast the ship apart. It was a good result, and Samson was pleased.

  He wasn’t sure how much of a difference it would make against a ship capable of destroying the Sidewinder, but with luck the rejuvenated Bounty would be able to get away from danger, and not before landing a few body blows of her own.

  The jump into the Nexus was seamless, with the new naval grade navigation computer making the necessary calculations almost instantaneously. He picked a drop-out point a day away from Dobson. Samson had had the chance to look over Arlen’s logs; Dobson was the last planet he had visited, and seemed a likely candidate for the source of Arlen’s mysterious cargo. Samson wanted to go and take a look for himself.

  The actual arrival point he chose was much farther out than the new computer was capable of attaining, but he wanted to allow them a little more time to keep testing the systems. Sometimes the Nexus Current could interfere with systems that hadn’t been properly shielded, and he wanted to make sure everything came through intact. Besides, the more time they spent testing, the more familiar the crew became with the ship and its new interfaces. If they encountered the Sidewinder’s destroyer, he didn’t want anyone, himself included, trying to remember which button they had to press.

  ‘Approaching Dobson, sir,’ Harper said.

  She had been the consummately professional naval officer since leaving the depot. After her work on the bridge systems, he’d decided to give her the chance to resume her duties. While Price was otherwise occupied presiding over his ship’s battery, Samson made sure to keep one of the other Marines on the bridge at all times, fully armed. It might have been petty of him, but it was a regulation requirement—even a paroled subject of naval justice had to be under armed guard while on a ship’s bridge.

  Samson ran a quick sensor sweep of the planet, but could detect nothing in orbit. He took satisfaction in the fact that he had initiated the sweep without hitting any wrong buttons—a sign that all the training over the past two days was bedding in. The realisation that everything on the Bounty worked as well as it did was taking some getting used to.

  ‘It looks clear. Take us into orbit,’ Samson said. The Bounty’s old logs were neither complete nor intact. Whatever scrambling software Arlen had used to encrypt them before the boarding party arrived had caused irreparable damage, which meant they had to estimate exactly where he’d been. That wasn’t much of a problem when trying to work out which systems or planets he’d visited, but Samson knew that even a small planet like Dobson was a very large haystack, and whatever they were looking for was going to be a very small needle. Still, Dobson was the last place Arlen stopped, so that was where Samson decided to start.

  Then there was the danger of the hostile vessel showing up again. Just because it wasn’t in orbit didn’t mean it wasn’t on the surface. Every step they took had to be with extreme caution.

  Harper looked through the sensor data as it came in. ‘No sign of threats on the surface, sir.’

  Commodore Iyabo hadn’t given him orders more specific than securing any artefacts and gathering intel. He had not given any indication of how Samson was to go about that, and Samson’s curiosity was getting the better of him. There was nothing in his mandate to prevent him from visiting the surface himself and taking a look around. He conjured up images of a crashed alien ship, or the remains of an alien civilisation somewhere down on the surface.

  It wasn’t just the hostile vessel that posed a threat to the site—the planet’s settlers might be helping themselves to whatever was down there. Samson very much doubted Arlen had happened upon the objects by chance. It was far more likely that colonists had found the artefacts and were selling them to Arlen.

  If the locals were potentially interfering with an alien site on the planet, Samson reckoned Frontier Command’s orders more than covered an expedition down to the surface. He couldn’t do that job properly from orbit. With the new and improved Bounty, there was no danger in attempting another atmospheric entry. He tapped his finger on his armrest and smiled.

  He brought up the data they’d extrapolated from the Bounty’s old nav computer, and looked at the possible landing sites that Arlen might have used. There was one that stood out to Samson. It was near a small farming complex, right out on the edge of the colony’s territory. Far enough out to be the first people to explore the area and, more importantly, to keep any discoveries quiet from the rest of the population. Samson wondered what had brought Arlen out there the first time, but he supposed that didn’t matter.

  ‘Lieutenant Harper, take us to these coordinates.’

  20

  The drop into Dobson’s atmosphere was far more comfortable than their landing on Holmwood. He kept his eyes glued to the sensor readings as they went, looking for anything that might indicate the presence of another ship. They hovered a thousand metres above the surface for long enough to conduct a scan, which indicated a large void beneath the ground less than a kilometre from the farm. There was a site on the surface that looked like an earthworks of some sort. An excavation? Samson’s heart raced when he saw how extensive it was—this had to be what they were looking for.


  He landed the Bounty on the edge of the farm compound. Samson did his best to maintain a professional demeanour, but he felt giddy at the prospect of discovering what was down there. Perhaps he was building it up too much. There might only be a small, ancient crash site with a few barely identifiable fragments. The void though? Too many coincidences. Finding a trace of aliens had to be among the top ten dreams of young children planning on a career in space, although he supposed technically it had already been discovered if the locals were looting it. Still, he was the first naval officer to bring it in, which counted for something.

  He thought through how best to proceed. They had no idea what they would find down there, or if the Sidewinder’s destroyer would show up again. The Bounty had to remain crewed and ready to go at all times in case they had to make a fast exit—that was the most important thing.

  In the end he decided to pair with Price—now back to regular Sergeant Price; Samson’s tongue-in-cheek field commission for the Marine had been cancelled by the Admiralty, albeit with a new commendation added to his Marine record. Samson decided he would leave everyone else on board, at least for the time being. There was no point in risking more people than necessary, and there was no way he was missing out on this. With Sergeant Price having supported him during the mutiny, Samson reckoned he owed the Marine a favour, and so they might be the first humans to officially encounter an alien civilisation. The other Marines could keep an eye on the crew. Although Samson was a little more relaxed about them now, he still wasn’t willing to let them have free run of the ship in his absence.

  Samson was so excited by the adventure that lay ahead, he had to take a deep breath to slow himself and carefully go through all his boarding-suit checks. The risk of disease or other hazardous materials in an unknown environment was ever-present, so even though Dobson had a breathable atmosphere, he wasn’t planning on taking any chances. Who knew what they might expose themselves to if they did indeed find an alien site? He fitted a new filter to his suit and double-checked all his seals and contact surfaces. Everything looked to be in good order, so he joined Sergeant Price at the airlock.