‘Ha,’ Smith said. ‘Wasn’t sure if that would work. Tell you what, I’ll give you a copy of the recording I’ve made of this mission for another pardon—for things I haven’t done yet.’ Smith fixed his gaze on Samson’s face, and broke into a broad smile when Samson frowned.
‘Don’t worry,’ Smith said, chuckling. ‘You can have it for nothing. I’m not planning anything nefarious. Not anymore.’
They all stepped back to be out of the SBB’s downdraft, sheltering their eyes from flying dust as its power plant whined and it took the strain of the alien ship’s weight. Slowly but surely, they both lifted off the ground, then the SBB began its slow and laborious ascent out of the planet’s gravity well with its alien cargo firmly attached.
Price stood next to the alien, surrounded by Smith’s mercenaries who all looked as though they needed only the slightest reason to fill the creature full of bullets. It watched its ship being taken away, and Samson wondered what was going on in its head. It was probably used to winning against humans. Probably thought humanity was an inconvenience rather than a threat. Samson was glad to be the one highlighting the error in that.
He wondered what lay in store for the creature when he finally handed it over to his superiors. He didn’t reckon it would be pleasant, and despite everything, he felt a moment of sympathy for it. The thought of being captured himself and studied by its kind sent a chill across his skin.
‘Put it onto the yacht,’ Samson said. ‘We can go take a look around the crashed ship and establish an operations post and secure a perimeter. We should set up a portable scanner array if the intercom stays down. We need to be able to spot any more alien ships the moment they come into orbit. You can sort one out?’
‘Course I can,’ Smith said. ‘I’ll head back with Trevor and Nige to secure our guest, then I’ll get the fabricator working on the parts you’ll need. Ali knows his way around the wreck, so he can stay with you.’
‘Good,’ Samson said. ‘Let’s get to it.’
Smith started to walk away with the others. ‘It better not piss on my carpet, Samson,’ Smith shouted back. ‘If it pisses on my carpet, I’ll shoot it myself.’
Samson shook his head and couldn’t help but smile. It had been a successful day, and what they learned might give them the edge against an enemy that seemed to think it could push humans around as it pleased.
While there wasn’t much to the alien scout ship, the crashed vessel was an entirely different proposition. It was big. Bigger than the Sidewinder, and probably about the same size as a frigate in human terms—perhaps a hundred and thirty or forty metres—although it was difficult to tell with the hull shapes being so different. There was no way the SBB would be able to get it off the ground and into orbit, so defending the site for as long as it took was the only option.
Ali led Samson and Price down into the crater that the ship had left when it impacted on the surface. The ship was in remarkably good condition, considering the force that would have been required to tear up the hard-baked ground like that. It had the same reflection-less grey hull as the scout ship, albeit with some scratches and rents in it that revealed a silvery alloy underneath. Samson would have been very surprised if any hull material had been able to escape a landing like this without at least some scratches. It seemed the ship’s matte colour was a top coating of some sort—most likely possessing stealth or protective properties.
‘The opening is over this way,’ Ali said, gesturing to the obvious.
There was a large rocky outcrop some way back down the scar left by the ship’s crash. It looked as though it had been clobbered by an enormous wrecking ball, with a fresh face of unweathered rock exposed and large chunks of it scattered along the crash path. It had given a good account of itself, however. Samson reckoned it was responsible for opening the section of hull along the alien ship’s starboard side. It was a large rent, revealing the internal structure of several deck levels. It was a significant ship, and Samson wondered how many crew it had contained. A human ship of this size would have contained somewhere between a hundred fifty and two hundred, at a minimum.
‘You’re certain there’s nothing alive on board?’ Samson said.
‘We scanned every centimetre of it when we found it,’ Ali said. ‘Mary Celeste of the stars. Sort of. We found some bodies. A couple of dozen.’
‘Enough to run it?’ Samson said.
Ali shrugged.
It seemed unlikely that this ship could be operated with so few crew, but there was so much about this new race he didn’t know, there was no way he could presume anything.
They ventured in and were greeted with an interior very much like that of the scout ship they had just captured. There was visible damage in this part, as well as signs of the ship having been open to the elements for several weeks at least. Everything was covered in a fine layer of yellowish-beige dust from the planet’s surface. Despite that, it was difficult to say for sure how long the ship had been there. Judging by the recent arrival of the scout ship, he suspected not long. Unless…
What if the ship had been deliberately crashed as bait? It would explain why there were so few bodies on board. The scout ship might have been left behind to keep an eye on things. Maybe they got bored, or sloppy, which was why they were on the surface when Samson and the others arrived.
‘How much traffic moves through this system?’ Samson said.
Ali shrugged again. ‘Not so much now, but there was a bit of activity a couple of years back. A prospector found a vein of neodymium which started a bit of a gold rush. Turned out to be a one-off, and no one found anything else useful. Don’t think anyone’s been back since. Hard to get enough water here. Anyway, after all the fuss died down, the planet was written off, which is why Kingston was interested. Didn’t think anyone else would come here looking, but it was too dry for him too.’
‘Where were the diggings?’
‘Dunno. Didn’t look like there was anything in this region on the scans when we came in. Maybe on the other side of the planet? After we spotted the ship, we didn’t really look for anything else.’
‘What are you thinking, sir?’ Price asked.
‘A crashed ship with a skeleton crew? A scout ship keeping an eye on it, on a planet that there was a lot of human fuss over a while back? I think they might have left this here purposely for us to find.’
Price raised an eyebrow. ‘What about the agitator Smith found here?’
Samson didn’t know what to say to that. ‘Maybe it’s common technology for them? They might not have realised that we don’t already have it. Or maybe it’s not quite what we think it is.’ Maybe, maybe, maybe. Samson wondered if he was being overly paranoid. Nothing had gone wrong with Smith’s drive so far, and it sounded like he’d used it plenty of times. It was a risky thing to have done, no matter how confident Smith was of his testing methods. He could be right in thinking that it was simple technology for the aliens, but perhaps there was a reason they’d given it away. He’d certainly pass his observation up the food chain with the details of Smith’s toy.
‘How far into the ship did you go?’ Samson said.
‘Engine rooms, and that was it. Reckoned it was best to get out with what we had while we could, then come back later for more.’
‘I don’t like venturing in too far until Smith sets up our scanner,’ Price said. ‘We’re cut off, and too far from the ship if the aliens turn up again. With the radio interference, we’re blind.’
‘Agreed,’ Samson said. He reckoned the others thought he was being paranoid, but there was something about the ship that didn’t feel right. Why was the scouting ship there, if not to keep an eye on everything? He supposed they might have been caretaking it until a proper recovery vessel could arrive, but it had been here for weeks now, at the very least. Surely they wouldn’t have left it there so long—with their Nexus technology, they could get here far faster than a human rescue vessel.
Being cut off from comms was a strange, diso
rientating feeling, and might have explained his heightened paranoia, but right now, the first he would know of the alien warship’s arrival was when it started blasting at them from orbit.
His temptation to venture further into the ship was tempered by the danger, and the possibility that there was nothing here the aliens did not want him to find. Am I overcomplicating this? he wondered. Why would they bother taking the chance, and what value was there for them in luring a few humans down to the surface? There were plenty of places they could take prisoners, scattered across the Frontier, where their disappearance would go unnoticed.
It didn’t make any sense, and while he felt it was justified being paranoid given the circumstances, Samson had to admit it was a stretch. The aliens would have to be fools to set up a trap like this. The cost in lost hardware and lives alone would prohibit such an action by any human sensibilities. Then there was the risk of losing tech. Even if something was commonplace to you, surely you’d guard it against an unknown enemy until you were certain they already had it?
The roar of engines filled the air, startling Samson. His heart leaped into his throat. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he said. He turned to look back out of the opening in the hull, and saw the Maggie pull into position alongside and hover, kicking up a cloud of dirt and debris.
A hatch opened in her side, and a telescopic boarding platform slid out. Smith appeared in the open hatch, and started shouting. His words were relayed an instant later through a speaker, but there was enough of a delay to make it seem comical. His message, however, was far from that.
The alien warship had arrived in the system.
As soon as the boarding ramp reached them, Samson ordered everyone onto the Maggie. As he ran across the ramp, he cast a look skyward, and wondered how far off that ship was. What would they think when they realised their tech had been taken? He allowed himself a smile, and hoped they’d be able to get the scout ship out of the system.
39
The SBB was waiting for them in orbit when the Maggie broke free of the planet’s atmosphere. Samson was well aware he had failed in his mission to keep the crash site secured, but all things considered he didn’t see what else he could do. He reckoned he was doing pretty well in bringing back their prisoner and, with luck, the intact scout ship. At the very least, he reckoned that put him out ahead. Getting it all back was going to be easier said than done, however.
In the excitement of their swift evacuation from the planet, Samson and Price found themselves up on the Maggie’s bridge with the rest of the crew. Smith had been fastidious in keeping them away from any of the ship’s control sections, and Samson had wondered if that was for a reason. He knew next to nothing about the Maggie and her capabilities other than what he had witnessed first-hand, but he suspected Smith was hiding a few toys that he didn’t want anyone to know he had. Now Samson could see that was exactly it—he was standing in a veritable treasure trove of the type of equipment that could only be stolen or bought for the type of price the Navy would never be willing to pay.
As he looked about and feasted his eyes on what surrounded him, Samson wondered how much of it came standard on an Excelsior Bay. Probably not the units stamped with ‘Property of the Terran Union Navy’. The bridge curved around the Maggie’s nose, with the front half of the wall given over to a viewscreen. All the data panels and screens were framed in heavily lacquered walnut, while the other surfaces were covered in wine-coloured carpet. It was a plush, luxurious surround, and it continued to defy Samson’s expectations of how a pirate would live.
‘Well, all my secrets are out for you now, Samson,’ Smith said. ‘Feels like I’ve my trousers down in public. Anyway,’ he said through the intercom to the SBB, ‘Bert, move that ship into position. We’ve got company and not much time.’
‘Aye, Cap.’
The viewscreen was split in two, one side showing the best sensor resolution imaging they could get of the approaching alien ship, while the other was fixed on the SBB, its chipped and worn red paintwork illuminated by the regular bursts from its attitude thrusters, as Bert manoeuvred the scout ship into position for the Maggie to grab hold with her tractor magnets. As interesting as it was to watch, Samson’s eyes were locked onto the side depicting the alien ship.
It was a familiar spectre at this point, but what was more alarming was how good the image was.
‘How far off is she?’ Samson said.
Smith looked over from the side with the SBB, which he had been concentrating on, and gave a chuckle that didn’t sound like it contained much humour.
‘Don’t worry,’ Smith said. ‘We’ve sensors that would put a dreadnought to shame. She’s farther than you think, but still too close for comfort. We need to get that scout hitched and get out of here pronto.’
Samson watched the screen with a tight feeling in his chest. Usually sensor imagery of that quality meant whatever you were looking at wasn’t that far off. He had no doubt Smith was telling the truth when he said his sensors were better than usual, but it was unsettling all the same. This ship was responsible for the deaths of too many sailors for him not to look at it and feel fear. He had no desire to add his name to the list of the fallen.
He flicked his eyes over to the other screen with the SBB and thought he felt a judder as he saw the alien scout ship lurch and lock into position, held in place by the invisible bond of the Maggie’s tractor magnet. He knew he had only imagined the judder—the ship’s dampeners were far too good—and he mused on how the mind could play tricks on you. He hoped that was also the case with how every instinct he had was screaming that the alien warship was too close for them to get away from it.
‘Get back on board as fast as you can, Bert,’ Smith said. ‘Don’t think I won’t leave you behind.’ He cut off the intercom, and settled into the command chair. His face showed more strain than it had, but only for a moment.
‘You’d leave one of your men behind?’ Samson said.
‘Of course not,’ Smith said. ‘But he’ll move faster if he thinks I will. And he needs to move fast.’
‘Will you give me an honest answer?’
Smith looked at him and cocked an eyebrow.
‘How far is that thing? Really?’
‘It’ll be on us in fifteen minutes. Without the scout, we can do more than she’s doing with legs to spare, and I’m assuming she’s at her top speed. With it in tow?’ He shrugged. ‘I reckon we’ll be able to stay ahead.’
Samson wasn’t filled with confidence, but Smith had played his cards pretty close to his chest so far in terms of the Maggie’s capabilities. There was always hope.
As soon as Smith had confirmation that the SBB was back in the docking bay, Smith spun the ship on its axis and accelerated until the tractor magnet’s status panel was flashing yellow.
‘That’s as much acceleration as I can give her,’ Smith said. ‘We’ll have to hope it’s enough to get us to the Nexus portal ahead of that big bastard.’
‘Why can’t we use your fancy agitator?’
‘Because it isn’t charged, and it won’t be in time. We’ll have reached the portal before it is.’
Samson frowned. ‘Why didn’t you save it for a fast getaway?’
Smith leaned forward in his chair. ‘Because sometimes you have to get there first,’ he said in a snarl. He took a deep breath and relaxed back to his charismatic self. ‘I wanted to make sure we got there before anyone else. Early bird, and all that. Plus I’m a show-off. Terrible trait, I know, but I can’t help myself and I’m too old to change now. Wanted to wow the Navy boys with my fancy gadgets.’
Samson reckoned silence was the best option. Smith was very much in control on the Maggie. That was the real reason he’d insisted they take her. The extra comfort it offered was a nice distraction, but that was all it was. They were along for the ride, and Smith’s momentary lapses of civility were a clear reminder of that.
The entire bridge remained in silence as the Maggie made her best effort to acc
elerate away, while still clinging onto the alien scout ship. Samson watched the alien ship, which now occupied the entire viewscreen.
‘Magnificent bastard, ain’t it,’ Smith said.
‘Not the words I’d use,’ Samson said. ‘Is it gaining on us?’
Smith frowned. ‘Right now it is. We’re still accelerating though. Give it time.’
‘How much of that do we have?’
Smith chuckled. ‘I’ve been in tighter spots and squeezed my way out.’
Samson realised the words were supposed to be comforting, but they didn’t have that effect.
‘If you want to go and get some rack time, feel free,’ Smith said. ‘There’s nothing to be gained by standing here staring at it. We’ve another six hours of acceleration. I’m sure we’ll be in the clear by then.’
Samson decided to do as Smith suggested. He was nothing but a spectator on the Maggie’s bridge, and he couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d had decent, uninterrupted sleep. As it was, it seemed he was going to have to wait a little longer. Despite the comfort of Maggie’s guest quarters, he tossed and turned for a few hours, the adrenaline that had been coursing through his system for so long keeping him from getting any worthwhile rest.
When he got back to the bridge, it was just Smith and Ali. They had the lights dimmed, and both of them stared at the dark horseshoe form of the alien ship. They had put a counter in bright orange numerals up on the display. It was racing down.
‘I take it that number getting smaller isn’t a good thing,’ Samson said, already knowing the answer, but dreading hearing it all the same.
‘It’s accelerating faster than we are,’ Smith said.
There was no emotion in his voice or his face as he stared at the screen. His dark eyes, like a shark’s, processed what was before him. He was a picture of cold calculation.
The Alpha Protocol: Alpha Protocol Book 1 Page 27