‘You didn’t leak any information about what was going on during your previous visit?’
‘I…’ Samson took a deep breath. ‘It would appear Smith managed to get a tracking and transmitting device on board the Bounty while we were searching his space yacht.’
‘So he would have been able to listen in on what happened with the Peterson and Nautilus.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I presume there’ll be full details in your report?’
‘There will, sir.’
Iyabo let out a sigh. ‘Considering everything that’s happened, I don’t think you can be blamed for losing focus. Be completely up front in your report, and I’ll do my best to ensure you don’t suffer for it. Just don’t let it happen again. In any event, I don’t think him knowing changes my view on how we should proceed.
‘The possibilities his offer raises are too great to chance turning down or missing out on by trying to be too clever. I’ll recommend to the Admiralty that we grab Kingsley’s proposal with both hands. It’ll be my first order of business once I’m off this call, so I should have an answer for you in a couple of hours. Hang tight until then, but be ready to move as soon as I get back to you. If that ship exists, I want it secured by naval personnel ASAP. We won’t be waiting for Admiral Khaimov to get there. I trust you’re focused again, and up to the job?’
‘I am, sir.’
‘Good. Everyone here realises what strained circumstances you’re operating under out there. You’re doing sterling work, and that hasn’t gone unnoticed. Keep it up.’
‘Thank you, sir. One other thing, sir. Admiral Khaimov’s squadron?’
‘Still six days away,’ Iyabo said. ‘It takes a long time to recharge the agitators between jumps on a ship as large as the Warspite. Rest assured they’re making best possible speed to you. We were all horrified to hear the Peterson’s transmission and saddened that Captain Wright’s… hopes for a peaceful interaction were dashed. We’re under no illusions here that a peaceful solution is available, and we all know the pressure you’re under out there on your own. No one expects you to be a hero, Lieutenant Commander. Do your duty and keep your people safe. Stay as far away from that alien warship as you can. I’ll be back to you as soon as I have your orders.’
‘It sticks in my craw to say this,’ Commodore Iyabo said, ‘but I’m transmitting Arthur Kingsley’s pardon through to you now, on the terms he requested. I had the singular pleasure of hunting this son of a bitch for two years when I was captain of the Talwar. He’s responsible for the deaths of a dozen naval personnel, and countless others. Some of them people under my command. This is not a man to trust.’
‘I’d come to that conclusion also,’ Samson said. ‘But I agree that this opportunity is too good to pass up.’
‘If at any point it comes to it, shoot first and ask questions later. I will lose no sleep over breaking our word on this deal. All being well we stick to it, but if Kingsley—or Smith, or whatever he wants to call himself—so much as looks at you in a way you don’t like, you shoot him. Understood?’
‘Aye, sir.’
‘Good. Once you take possession of the alien vessel, you will hold it unless faced with overwhelming opposition. It’s up to you to make the call on that, but we want that ship. You will continue to do so until you are relieved by a Marine and combat engineer task force. Those are your orders. Proceed with all expedition, Lieutenant Commander.’
33
Holmwood was starting to take on a familiar feel by the time Samson returned with Smith’s pardon. He had left the depot as soon as he’d finished speaking with Commodore Iyabo; he’d rushed out of the space port, eager to get to Smith, and the ship he had discovered, as quickly as possible. He left Price outside, knowing now that Smith liked to conduct his business in private. Considering he was giving Smith what he wanted, Samson didn’t have any concerns about his personal safety.
Sirion Bates seemed genuinely delighted at Samson’s arrival, even if Samson viewed him as an unavoidable unpleasantness. As usual, Bates offered Samson every type of hospitality at his disposal, but all Samson wanted to do was get past this diversion with as little interaction as possible. Samson turned the offers down in a fashion bordering on what could still be considered polite, and decided to pass the address on to the Fleet Provost Division when they arrived, to make a thorough investigation of the brothel to ensure every employee was there of their own free will and were being well treated. Nonetheless, it injured Samson’s soul every time he passed through with neither the resources nor the time to do anything about it.
Bates took Samson’s refusal in greasy good humour, and Samson wanted to punch him in the face. He suspected Bates would be enjoying the rewards from assisting Smith for some months to come. If the aliens didn’t show up to pummel the city into the dust. Or the provost marshal. Samson wasn’t sure which he preferred.
Smith arrived not long after Samson with the casual air of a man who has no real callings on his time. The joys of being retired? Samson wondered. People made their plans according to Smith’s schedule, and it seemed he had no intention of making an exception for the Navy. His cheeriness was an odd demeanour for a man who was singularly one of the Union Navy’s greatest enemies, but Samson supposed that once your list of warrants reached a certain length you simply became immune to it.
‘Good morning, Lieutenant Commander,’ Smith said. ‘Is that my pardon in your hand?’
Samson raised a datapad—the one that Smith had given him with the tracker and transmitter—which now also contained the full details of Smith’s pardon. Of course, it had naval tracking software hidden away in its code. ‘It is, Mister Smith, assuming that’s your preferred identity these days? A full pardon for all crimes committed up until the moment you sign it.’
‘Kingston Smith is just fine. I’ve thought about going back to Arthur Kingsley, but I’ve gotten used to Smith after all this time.’ He took the pad, his mouth curling into something resembling a genuine smile—for the briefest instant the cold hardness left his eyes. Samson couldn’t quite describe what it was replaced by, as warmer emotions seemed entirely alien on a face like Smith’s, but it opened a window on a different facet of Smith’s personality. Perhaps there was an actual human being in there somewhere.
Smith scanned through the documents, then hesitated. Samson’s heart leaped into his throat.
‘Hold on a minute,’ Smith said.
Samson felt a chill.
‘Bates!’ Smith shouted.
Bates appeared an instant later, clearly not from far enough away to have required a shout.
‘Mister Smith, is there anything I can help you with?’
Smith looked at Samson, and nodded his head toward the brothel entrance. ‘Don’t like that, do you?’
‘That depends,’ Samson said. ‘If it’s legal, there’s nothing I can do about it.’
‘Any slaves in there, Bates?’ Smith said.
‘Well, out here on the Frontier it’s easier to—’
‘Shut it. I’ve heard enough,’ Smith said, looking back at Samson. ‘For what it’s worth, the first time I met you here is the first time I’ve had any dealings with Bates. I always like to keep moving about. Old habits,’ he said, waving the datapad in the air.
Samson shrugged, not sure where this was going.
‘I’ve done plenty of unpleasant things in my life, Bates,’ Smith said. ‘But never slaving or whoring. I’ve more respect for what I flush down the khazi than for men like you.’
‘I… Well… We all have to make a liv—’
Smith drew a pistol from the back of his waistband, and shot Bates neatly between the eyes. It took a moment for Bates’ body to realise it was dead, and it hovered in the air for a moment; the awkward silence that occupied it was scented with burnt flesh and nitrocellulose propellant. After what seemed like an age, the body crumpled to the ground.
‘One of my lads’ll take this place over, and if there’s any of the ladies and
gentlemen next door what don’t want to stay, we’ll send ‘em back home. This establishment will be a gold mine once your lot arrive, and I’ve never been one to miss a good business opportunity.’
That put a slightly different complexion on the act for Samson. It might have been motivated in part by his distaste at Bates’ business practices, but there was still an upside for Smith.
‘My last illegal act,’ Smith said, smiling.
‘Not sure you’d have needed a pardon for that,’ Samson said, feeling emasculated that he’d not been in a position to do anything about Bates, even though he would have chosen a somewhat different approach.
‘Well, then. Chalk that one up as my first civic-spirited act. Now, back to business,’ Smith said, authorising the pardon with his thumbprint. He looked up thoughtfully. ‘For some reason I’d imagined this being far more complicated. I feel like an… inlaw again. Does that work—outlaw, inlaw? Doesn’t sound right, does it. Oh well, who cares. Law-abiding citizen Smith. Anyway, I suppose you want to get down to business.’
‘I’d appreciate that,’ Samson said, feeling unexpectedly ambivalent about Smith. Can a leopard change its spots? he wondered. Best not to get too caught up in the rehabilitation idea. Commodore Iyabo’s words echoed in his ears. New leaf or not, Smith was a very dangerous man who was accustomed to getting what he wanted.
‘You Navy folk, always in such a hurry,’ Smith said. ‘Something I’ve noticed about getting older: You start to appreciate the little things. The smell of a flower, a peaceful moment. All the stuff you don’t notice while you’re clawing your way up the greasy pole.’ He dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. ‘Maybe I’m just turning into a sentimental old bastard. Maybe it’s the effect of being a law-abiding citizen again. Making me soft.’ He chuckled to himself. ‘Anyway, let’s get to it. Your ship or mine? said the pirate to the maiden fair.’ His eyes twinkled with mischief.
‘I’d prefer to take mine,’ Samson said.
‘I was just being polite,’ Smith said. ‘We’re taking Maggie, not that heap of crap you’ve been flying around in. That’s not open for discussion.’
‘Is there room for my people?’
‘There’s room for you and your sergeant. Price? Isn’t that his name? Like the look of him. Looks handy. Type of fella I wouldn’t mind having on my side. Who else do you mean?’
‘My crew. We’ll need to secure the site until a Marine task force relieves it.’
‘My lads can help you with that,’ Smith said. ‘They’re pretty underworked these days. A little hard work and Navy discipline will do them a world of good. You and the sergeant will be enough.’
Samson nodded. ‘If anything happens to us,’ Samson said, ‘the pardon will be voided. I have to transmit a confirmation that the deal has been seen through. Any misbehaviour and you’ll be hunted across the galaxy again before you can say “the outlaw Arthur Kingsley”.’
‘Suspicious little prick, aren’t you?’ Smith said, smiling. ‘I already told you—if I wanted you dead, you’d be in the bottom of a hole by now. Now, come on, get your sergeant and let’s be about it. Get what you need from your ship and meet me at Pad A. That’s where Maggie is. I want to be off this rock and back to the Core Systems sooner rather than later.’
Samson bit his lip. What choice did he have? Their need for the ship was too great to risk losing it over something like this.
‘How many men do you have?’ Samson said, still hoping to convince Smith to agree to him bringing at least the rest of his Marines.
‘More than you do, so plenty to keep an eye on a crashed ship on a dead dustbowl planet.’
Samson collected Price outside, and filled him in on what was happening as they returned to the spaceport. Smith’s ship was sitting on a landing pad screened off from the rest of the complex. She looked even more magnificent on the ground than she had in space. It was only when she was sitting up proudly on her landing struts that you could appreciate her properly.
‘Beautiful, ain’t she?’ Smith said. ‘Even now I like to stop every once in a while to look at her. Not many people making ships like that anymore. It’s all about utility now. They forget that the look of it’s important too. A beautiful ship makes a man feel proud to be on her, to keep her in good trim. You Navy types should understand that, but some of the heaps you lot fly around in?’ He grimaced in disgust.
It seemed odd to Samson that a vicious thug like Smith had such a sense of the aesthetic. The man was full of surprises.
‘Well, lads,’ Smith said, ‘hop in and make yourselves comfortable. I’m afraid she can’t quite offer the hospitality she once could—you’d be amazed how hard it is to get champagne out here. Still, you boys probably don’t drink on duty, so no loss.’
Smith led them through the ship to a comfortably appointed circular lounge at its centre. It was filled with plush leather couches, shiny lacquered furniture, and paintings lining the rear half of the walls, with small sculptures sitting in alcoves between each one. Samson suspected that there was more money on those walls than he would see in his entire career. The couches faced a large, curved viewscreen that filled the front half of the wall.
Samson wondered where the bridge was, and the rest of the crew, for that matter. He didn’t reckon the ship was controlled from a room that comfortable.
‘Maggie will have us there in about six hours,’ Smith said, taking a seat opposite Samson.
‘Where exactly are we going?’ That would barely have them a quarter of the way to the Nexus portal on the Bounty. That must mean the ship was somewhere within the system. How had this ship not already been found by someone else in prospecting scans?
‘I suppose I can tell you now,’ Smith said. ‘Talhoffer 18.’
Samson thought for a moment. That was a different system. ‘How fast is this ship?’ he said, before he had time to consider his surprise. He could vaguely recall seeing Talhoffer on the star charts. It was beyond the edge of Frontier space, and to the best of his knowledge was an unexplored system.
Smith laughed. ‘Very fast. But not that fast.’ A contented smile spread across his face as he sank into one of the couches. ‘You just wait and see,’ he said. ‘This ship isn’t the only little surprise I’ve got for you.’
As dubious a statement as it was, it was also the first thing Smith had said that didn’t feel like a veiled threat. Samson looked across at Price, who shrugged and sat down on the couch as far away from Smith as he could.
‘There’s no one out that far,’ Samson said.
‘Precisely. That’s why no one else has found what I did.’
‘What were you doing out that far?’
Smith shrugged. ‘This and that.’ He noticed Samson’s frown. ‘What? Can’t give away all my secrets, can I? All that matters is I found something important, and I’ve done my civic duty in passing that information on to the powers that be. Practise for my new life as a law-abiding citizen.’
Smith pronounced every syllable of that title with relish each time he said it. Or perhaps it was irony. Samson couldn’t be certain. This was the most infamous criminal humanity had. His name was bandied about in the company of the likes of Blackbeard and Calico Jack, legendary pirates of old Earth. He wondered how long Smith would be able to maintain this new policy of law abidance. Anything illegal he did from that moment forward would count against him.
Smith paused and gave that menacing smile of his, which Samson was coming to believe might actually be a genuine expression of pleasure—just a form of pleasure ordinary people didn’t experience.
‘You never know what you might find when you head out for a look around. Part of the pioneer spirit. Not much point coming all this way if you’re not going to take a look at somewhere that’s never been seen by mankind. My own little “one small step” experience. Y’know, there’s muppets back in the Core who pay millions to do that. Companies offer the whole package. Five-star luxury the whole way. Only hardship is getting your boots dirty when
you actually have to get up off your arse and step on the rock. Can you believe that?’
Samson felt a smooth increase in weight as the Maggie lifted off. She was utterly silent and had the most effective inertial dampening he’d ever experienced. Smoothing out the big hits was easy enough, but finessing the minor alterations took serious technology, power, and money. He thought of Excelsior Bay’s tagline—No expense spared. He could well believe it. It made Samson wonder how Smith had paid for it. If he’d paid for it at all.
Sanders appeared from a different entrance with a glass of what looked like whisky for Smith.
‘Can I get you gentlemen anything? Dinner will be served once we’ve left the atmosphere, but if you’d care for a pre-prandial?’
Samson looked at Smith, who shrugged.
‘Water will be fine,’ Samson said. ‘Thank you.’
Smith chuckled. ‘You’re missing out. Still, what I found is going to blow your little Navy-issue socks off, so it’s probably best you’re sober for it. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’
‘Try me,’ Samson said.
‘Oh, no. I want to see the look on your face. You’re gonna crap yourself.’
34
Without the aid of the viewscreen, Samson would have had little clue that they were moving. The screen provided a crystal-clear image of what lay before the Maggie, so perfect that it might have been a window. Gradually the sky turned from light blue to navy, slowly becoming pierced by the pinpricks of stars, until it was finally a black canvas speckled with white. The sound of a gong rang out, and Samson suspected it might have been an actual gong rather than just a recording.
‘Ah, that’ll be dinner,’ Smith said. ‘I hope you like freshly cooked roast beef with all the trimmings.’
The Alpha Protocol: Alpha Protocol Book 1 Page 23