The Alpha Protocol: Alpha Protocol Book 1

by Duncan M. Hamilton

  Gutierrez nodded, and Wright continued. ‘Admiral Khaimov doesn’t want to take any unnecessary chances. Until his squadron arrives, we are to avoid any direct engagement with the enemy, and are only to fight if there are no alternatives available to us. We will reconnoitre the Oculus system in force, and you will continue as commander of the Bounty. We will be sticking close together, and conducting detailed sensor scans of the area. One ship is an irritation, an ancient xeno ruin is a curiosity, but a species that is trigger-happy is a perilous threat. We’re to determine where they came from, if we can, and what their capabilities are, and if there are any more of them—all from as great a distance as we can keep.’

  ‘Aye, sir.’ Samson was beginning to wonder if Captain Gutierrez ever spoke.

  ‘Whether it’s heroics or foolhardiness that’s running through your veins, Lieutenant Commander, I don’t know and don’t care. Under my command, you’ll do what you’re told, when you’re told, and leave the thinking to your superiors. Understood?’

  ‘Perfectly, sir.’ Samson forced a smile. Something told him he was going to find serving under Captain Wright a trying experience.

  ‘Excellent,’ Wright said. ‘We ship out at zero seven hundred.’

  Right from the start, Samson found being under direct command again a frustration. He could see the appeal in a Frontier command now—freedom from interference in how you ran your ship on a day-to-day basis. There was none of the stifling protocol and formality of fleet service, nor the feeling of constantly having someone looking over your shoulder. He had once thrived on all that, but now that he’d had a taste of what life on the Frontier offered and had it taken away, he could finally understand what attracted people out there—why someone like Arlen had chosen the life he had.

  As the days progressed and they made way through space at a snail’s pace, it became clear to Samson that Captain Wright was undertaking this scouting cruise simply for the sake of it. There was going to be a great spotlight placed on the actions of every ship and officer in the early days of first contact, and no one wanted to be seen as having sat on their hands, nor as having made the wrong choices. Samson comforted himself with the thought that, through it all, he’d never had the opportunity to think things out and work to a plan of his own making. He’d been forced to react out of an instinct for survival, with the best reference to duty that he could accommodate. Nonetheless, he had a sinking sensation in his gut that if things went wrong, he would be the one the finger of blame pointed at.

  Other than his foray with Sergeant Price’s hand grenades, there was little he felt could attract too much criticism, and even that seemed to fall within the best traditions of the Navy. Since the Fifth Fleet mutiny, he had given up hope of a glittering, lifelong naval career, and had contented himself that he was serving out the remainder of his commitment before it was time to find something else to do with his life. That might change now, and being at the leading edge of the most exciting event in human history, he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardise his involvement.

  There was little for the Bounty to do on the reconnaissance mission other than bolster numbers and follow Captain Wright’s orders. Although her refit had made her much more functional, her systems were still far behind what the Peterson and the Nautilus brought to the equation. Their scanners had higher resolution and greater range, and their weapons systems were more numerous and packed a greater punch. If the alien ship turned up it would be his job to run and hide while the bigger ships showed the aggressor that the human race was not easily pushed around. The thought galled him, but that was the reality.

  It would probably have been better to leave them back at the depot, but he suspected Wright wanted to keep an eye on him after the grenade incident, and make sure he stayed out of trouble. He reckoned that in the back of his mind, Captain Wright still entertained the possibility that peaceful negotiations would be sought—and the less damage done, the more likely that eventuality was. It came as a surprise to Samson, considering the encounters they’d already had with the aliens, but although Wright wouldn’t be the man to bring the alien race to their knees—or whatever equivalent they had—with his little flotilla, he might be the man to establish peaceful dialogue, which would be more than enough to secure his name in the history books.

  Every day at noon, Wright held a commander’s conference, which he included Samson in. As Samson had more opportunity to observe his new commanding officer, it struck him that Wright was convinced there was a sacred motivation for the aliens’ behaviour—that in some way the humans who had been killed had brought that fate upon themselves by desecrating the aliens’ important sites.

  Samson found that notion very difficult to swallow, and he suspected Gutierrez did also, although the quiet captain refused to nail his colours to the mast and express an opinion that would put him at odds with Wright, or for which he could be held accountable later. Samson, of course, had no such luxury. He was the only human known to have killed an alien, so his position needed no further elaboration.

  Samson had his view on Wright’s theory but kept it to himself, if only for the fact that he knew neither of the other captains were interested in it. He was nothing more than the junior officer on the scene, included in the command discussions out of courtesy, and he knew that as soon as the fleet arrived, his presence at the high table would end.

  ‘Peterson to Bounty.’

  Samson was lounging in the command chair nursing a mug of coffee and daydreaming when the signal came through. For a fleeting moment, he hoped it might mean something exciting, but there had been many messages like it over the few days of their patrol in strength, and none of them had led to anything. Considering the monumental occurrences of the past couple of weeks, how things could have slid so far back to the standard tedium of quiet station duty was beyond Samson. Obviously, some commanders had a knack for creating it.

  ‘Go ahead, Captain Wright.’ Samson nodded to Harper, the only other person on the bridge. The ship felt empty again since the Peterson had taken back her volunteers. He took a mouthful of coffee and grimaced. He hadn’t had any great success upgrading the decrepit machine on the Bounty, but he had hoped the fresh beans from the depot—one of the few luxuries afforded to naval personnel on active service—and the overhaul of the filters would make a difference. He was sadly disappointed. He swallowed, and as he was hit by the toxic aftertaste, he realised it might be time to admit defeat in this particular battle.

  ‘I think we’ve got all the intel we’re going to get from these sweeps,’ Wright said. ‘We’ve detected a number of weak signals that our computers have been trying to decipher. I think the results we’re getting are starting to look pretty conclusive. We’re going to discuss it on the Peterson. In person. I’m sending my launch to collect you.’

  The line went dead, and Samson raised an eyebrow. What could he want to discuss that couldn’t be carried out by the usual video conference?

  ‘I wonder what he’s come up with?’ Samson said.

  ‘He seems pretty confident with his theory that the ruin is a religious site of some sort,’ Harper said. ‘Maybe he’s found something that confirms it.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Samson said. What he didn’t say was that he was becoming increasingly convinced that Wright wanted to own this situation, and make sure it was his career that benefitted as a result. Samson worried his single-minded pursuit of this would put them all in harm’s way.

  He watched the Peterson’s launch fire out of her docking bay and turn toward the Bounty. ‘Well, best not keep our lord and master waiting. Hopefully I won’t be too long, but have Kushnir relieve you here if you’re getting tired.’

  ‘I should be able to manage another hour or so,’ Harper said.

  Samson hadn’t discussed the details of his conversation with Captain Wright regarding the mutiny, nor the decision he’d made in that regard. She was a good officer, and he was glad of her competence. Need her though he did, that situation wouldn’t las
t for long. His anger at her actions had been overwhelmed by all the other events that had tugged on his emotional energy, but nothing would change the fact that he would be glad to see the back of her.

  ‘You have the bridge,’ he said, as he headed for the airlock. ‘Hopefully they’ll have some decent coffee over there.’

  27

  The Peterson was a more modern iteration of the Sidewinder—slightly larger, and newer in every respect. There was a lieutenant in the landing bay to take Samson to the briefing room, where Captains Wright and Gutierrez were waiting for him. They each had a lieutenant with them, leaving Samson feeling like he was the only one turning up to the party without a bottle of wine for the host.

  ‘Please sit down, Lieutenant Commander,’ Wright said, as he stood and walked toward the head of the briefing room’s table. ‘We’ve got a huge amount of signals intel to go through, but I feel it safe to say that everything we’ve examined so far points toward these ruins as having some sort of significance for the aliens, as I initially postulated.’

  Samson forced a smile and nodded. There was no doubt the ruins had significance for the aliens, and Wright very definitely wasn’t the first person to postulate that.

  ‘It explains their aggressive response to human presence, but, and more importantly, it opens a possible avenue to peaceful dialogue,’ Wright continued.

  Samson wasn’t sure how Captain Wright had managed to make these massive leaps. On every encounter between humans and aliens, someone had died. He felt a flush of satisfaction to think that the last meeting had gone some way to settling the score, but knew it counted for little. From the moment they’d first spoken, he’d felt that Wright was looking for a way to etch his name into the history books, and this confirmed it.

  ‘I propose to advance to within communications distance of the alien vessel, and attempt to open a dialogue with it. In such a huge galaxy, there is no reason why we can’t coexist peacefully.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s wise, sir?’ Samson said. ‘Every encounter thus far has ended badly.’

  ‘That’s because the wrong approach was taken, Lieutenant Commander. Every encounter thus far has been predicated on a basis of human antagonism. We have pillaged and desecrated what may well be a sacred site for them. You yourself entered the ruin and removed an object from it—something the aliens are aware of, if the way they chased you off is anything to go by.’

  Samson bit his tongue. He didn’t like the way things were being turned on him, but he was certain now that his vilification fit nicely with Captain Wright’s quest for immortality in history. Samson had been the first man on the scene, and for the history books to put someone else’s name down, Samson had to be pushed aside somehow. He reckoned Wright’s course of action had been decided upon long before he even arrived at the depot, and he’d been looking for any reason to validate it ever since. Captain Gutierrez either agreed with him or didn’t have the backbone to speak out, knowing that everything they said and did would end up being dissected for decades to come.

  ‘The sensor data, sir,’ Samson said. ‘Can you highlight the aspects that support your theory?’

  ‘I don’t think there’s any need for that,’ Wright said. ‘The signals officers here and on the Nautilus have reviewed it very carefully, and I’ve seen nothing that conflicts with the hypothesis.’

  ‘Yes, but is there anything to support it?’ Samson said.

  ‘Their behaviour on the planet’s surface borders on what we would call reverence. They’ve systematically erased any threat to the ruins, and have been passing in and out of them for the duration of our scans. They’ve aggressively pursued any artefacts that have been removed, and we haven’t detected them removing anything. Not one single thing.’

  Samson shook his head. What Wright was describing fit just as well with a tech grab by jealous looters. They might be able to scan for what they needed to know, rather than have to dig out hardware and bring it elsewhere for study. It fit with them wanting to make damn sure nobody else got their hands on the tech, and that anyone who even knew about it was killed. ‘That hardly proves your—’

  ‘That’s enough, Samson. You’ve a lot of dirt on your hands here, and I’m not going to let you start a war with the first sentient species we’ve encountered. We will try to make contact with these beings, and we will do our best to find a way to peacefully coexist.’

  ‘I think that’s completely unfair,’ Samson said, feeling his outrage grow. ‘I responded to the events I faced the way any diligent officer would have in those circumstances.’

  ‘Maybe so,’ Captain Wright said, ‘but that will have to be decided at another time, and in another place. For now, just consider that as senior officer on station, it is my responsibility to decide how we proceed. Attempting to broker a peace, and to salvage the situation from the mess you’ve created, is what I have decided.’

  ‘If,’ Samson said, struggling to contain the anger he felt at the way Wright was starting to scapegoat him, ‘they give you long enough to talk before blasting you out of space.’ He could see what the agenda was now, and it was as bad as he had feared. Wright didn’t want to just get himself into the history books; he wanted to make sure the limelight was entirely his, and that meant throwing Samson to the wolves. Samson hadn’t felt this ill since being told he might face court martial—and the firing squad—after the Fifth Fleet mutiny.

  Captain Wright intended to stand at the fore of it all—the man who established peaceful relations with the first aliens encountered by the human race. Samson had already taken most of the other accolades—encountering them, exploring the city, killing one—leaving Wright only this one thing to make his career on. Samson wondered what he was after—Fleet Admiral Wright? President Wright? Samson felt his stomach turn over, and was gripped by anxiety that made him feel as though he was about to throw up and pass out.

  But he was putting the cart before the horse. This all assumed it was possible to broker a peace at all, something Samson was not at all convinced of. Wright’s evidence to support his conjecture was thin at best—and deluded at worst, which was the end of the spectrum Samson reckoned this line of thinking was on. If Samson was correct, then all of Wright’s manoeuvring would count for nothing.

  ‘Were the standing orders not to await Rear Admiral Khaimov’s squadron, and the diplomatic officers with him?’ Samson said, already aware that he was beaten on this occasion, but unable to resist the urge to rattle Captain Wright’s cage as best he could.

  ‘I’ve given that due consideration. We need to move fast on this, to repair the damage that has been done, and to make sure that no more occurs,’ Wright said. ‘If we’re to make a success of this, we cannot afford to delay.’

  No, Samson thought, not if you don’t want to share the credit with Admiral Khaimov. ‘If that’s all, sir, permission to return to the Bounty?’

  ‘The Bounty is known to the aliens, and to have her—and you—present at the encounter would be counterproductive. I’m ordering the Bounty to return to the Capsilan system to carry out standard patrol operations. Smugglers, pirates, and malcontents, Samson. Let them know the Navy is here now, and we will impose order on this sector of space. I won’t have any independent elements causing problems in our negotiations with this new species. Am I clear?’

  ‘Perfectly, sir.’

  ‘You’ll deploy a sensor buoy on the approach to the planet from the Nexus portal and start monitoring all traffic into and out of the system. I also understand you made a deal on naval credit for communications equipment with someone on Capsilan 2-B?’

  ‘That’s correct, sir.’

  ‘This might be a good opportunity to make good that debt,’ Wright said. ‘If we want to maintain popular support, we must be seen to be fulfilling on our promises.’

  ‘I’ll see to it as a matter of priority.’

  ‘Good. You can return to the Bounty.’

  Samson stood and made to leave when Captain Wright spoke again.
>
  ‘Aren’t you forgetting something, Lieutenant Commander?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir?’ Samson said.

  ‘You forgot to wish us luck. This is a momentous undertaking with huge implications for the future of the human race.’

  ‘Of course, sir. Good luck,’ Samson said. He wasn’t able to force a smile. He saluted, and left.

  Samson sat on the launch back to the Bounty with the ignominy of having a sensor buoy sitting on his lap. With none on the Bounty, he’d had to borrow one from the Peterson. He had a nauseous worry in the pit of his gut as he wondered how Wright would react if—or when, as Samson expected—his efforts at negotiation failed. Would he try and lay the blame on Samson, citing his encounters with the alien race as being instrumental in ruining any chance for peace between the two races? As exciting as it had felt to be on the point of a momentous event, Samson realised it would quickly become a pressure cooker for careerist officers making or breaking their futures. Sadly for him, one of them had already arrived, and it was looking like Samson was going to pay the price.

  Those who stood in the way would be cast aside by whatever means available, and with his heavily blotted service record, Samson knew he was an easy target. It was another mark in favour of Frontier service. In the short time he had been out there, Samson had all but forgotten how political and cutthroat the officer ranks manning Core fleet vessels were. There was only so much reputation to go around, and even fewer promotions.

  When he got back to the Bounty, he walked from the airlock to the bridge with the sensor drone cradled in his arms. It looked like an enormous egg in its dormant mode, but once activated it would extend solar panels and antennae like a germinating seed. He felt like a marked man when he set foot on the bridge, which was exacerbated by the odd looks he got from Harper and Kushnir.