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it—on his own.

He tried to think of the positives. They’d safely made their Nexus transit, so Samson reckoned he had to be in a stronger position. If worse came to worst now, and he had to eject the reaction matter, they were far more likely to be rescued in the higher-traffic Capsilan system. He’d shown everyone his judgement was sound, so the mutineers would have to be questioning the logic of their choice.

He gave a little thought to coming up with something to keep the crew’s minds occupied for the couple of days it would take them to get to the depot. There was plenty of cleaning and maintenance to do around the ship, and while it might seem pointless working on a junker they’d be abandoning as soon as they got to the depot, it at least provided everyone with something to do.

They had all spent time serving on the Sidewinder, and like Harper, had lost friends who were as close as family. It was easier on Samson—he hadn’t been aboard long, and he had not formed any meaningful relationships with her crew. While it was shocking to lose so many colleagues so suddenly, the loss was a professional one for him—they were faces and uniforms rather than the real people they were to the others.

The bridge hatch opened, and Price stepped through. Samson felt a flash of concern—might this mean new problems?

‘Permission to come on the bridge, sir.’

‘Granted. What can I do for you, Sergeant Price?’

He rapped his knuckles against the hatch switch, and waited until it had closed before he spoke.

‘Now that we’ve completed the Nexus transit, my understanding is our chances of getting to the depot are pretty high.’

Samson nodded. ‘I think things are looking pretty good for us now.’

‘That means it’s time to start thinking about how you want to deal with the mutineers.’

Samson leaned back in his chair and blew out a long breath. ‘Yes, I’ve been giving that some thought.’

‘According to military justice, you’re well within your rights to throw them out of an airlock,’ Price said.

‘What are your thoughts on that?’

‘Mutiny’s mutiny, sir, regardless of the reasons.’

‘I can’t say I haven’t been tempted,’ Samson said, ‘but I don’t want to cut off my nose to spite my face.’

Price cocked an eyebrow.

‘I don’t want to create new problems by trying to solve my old ones. Vachon we need, even after we get to the depot. I’ll need Harper to send the Nexus Relay transmission. It seems a little unfair to space Kushnir simply because he offers no specialist skills. The simple fact of the matter is, I don’t know what lies ahead and I don’t know what resources I’m going to need. I don’t want to get you, your Marines, and myself killed because I spaced someone I might have need of later.’

Price nodded. ‘If help isn’t far away, you can put them in the depot’s brig and let the higher-ups deal with it when the time comes.’

Samson thought a moment. Although it felt like he was making excuses for himself to avoid having to execute mutineers, what Price had said made perfect sense. He didn’t know how long it would take the Navy to send a relief ship, and he had no idea of what problems they might face before then. He needed to keep every resource he had available to him, but he didn’t have to let them wander around at their liberty. The brig was always there if he needed to use it.

‘I think that makes the most sense,’ Samson said.

‘Very good, sir. I’ll return to keeping an eye on them. If there’s anything else?’

‘No, Sergeant Price,’ Samson said.

Price hit the hatch button, and was stepping through when Samson blurted out, ‘Thank you, Sergeant Price. I appreciate your support through this.’

Price nodded. ‘This is the military, sir. We don’t get to pick and choose which orders we want to follow. Lieutenant Harper should have known better.’

Left alone once more, Samson returned his thoughts to how to keep everyone occupied, and how to convince Harper to do her duty. While Vachon and Kushnir might get away with dishonourable discharges when they faced their courts martial, Harper almost certainly had a firing squad in her future. There wasn’t much he could offer to get her to cooperate, if she was set against it.

Despite all that had happened, the idea of hiding away at the depot until help arrived didn’t sit well with him. They may have suffered a tremendous loss, and they continued to be in a perilous position, but no one joined the Navy to live a life of safety and comfort. Somewhere out there was a powerful warship that had destroyed a Navy vessel. As each day went by, the opportunity to track it diminished. The only things holding the Bounty back were its reaction matter and life support system. There was a fuel bunker at the depot, as well as many spares, replacements, and software upgrades that would allow them to turn the Bounty into a useful little scouting vessel. She wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight, but they could certainly snoop around quietly, and collect as much data as they could while waiting for the cavalry to arrive. As he thought on it, a plan started to form in his head. It wasn’t like there was anything standing in his way—except for a rickety ship with fragmenting reaction matter, and a mutinous crew.

Part II

12

The few days flying through the Capsilan system to the orbital depot went without a hitch. A few hours after exiting their Nexus transit, Samson had let Rating Kushnir out of confinement, and set him to cleaning the Bounty. He was young, and clearly terrified—the time alone had allowed him to think over his court martial and execution, and his eagerness to please was uncontainable. Already the sections he had directed his energy to looked pristine, with years of dirt and abuse stripped away.

The reaction matter had obediently held together, and neither

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