The Alpha Protocol: Alpha Protocol Book 1 by Duncan Hamilton (read more books .txt) 📕

Vachon nor Kushnir had given Samson any cause for complaint. They both knew exemplary behaviour was their best chance to avoid the firing squad, and were acting on that. Price and his Marines appeared to be more than happy to carry out summary justice, a fact that had been made clear to both Vachon and Kushnir in the event they needed any additional encouragement to follow Samson’s orders.

Lieutenant Harper remained in her cabin, but Samson felt no guilt in leaving her there. She was fed and in comfortable confinement, which was far more than she was entitled to. Samson couldn’t deny he’d been avoiding dealing with her. Just the thought of her making her ultimatum to him set his blood to boiling every time. There was only so much longer he could delay it, though. The time for her to play a role was near at hand, and he still hadn’t come up with a way to convince her to help. While the others could possibly save their lives through good behaviour, there was nothing she could do.

The gradual growth from bright speck in space to space station pulled a grateful Samson away from his problem with Harper. He stood and went to the viewport to watch it as it filled ever more of his view. There were some magnificent orbital stations in space—grand testimonies to man’s ingenuity—but Capsilan Naval Depot was not one of them. Nonetheless, seeing it was a relief so strong that it was all he could do to contain it.

The depot was an old, outdated modular design that had been shipped out and pieced together by naval engineers who clearly knew they’d never have to serve in it and wanted to get the job done as quickly as possible and return to the Core. A supply freighter visited once a year to top up its fuel bunkers, refill its arsenal, and re-victual its storehouse, but other than that, the Sidewinder was the only vessel to ever stop there.

As much of a relief as it was, returning was something of a hollow homecoming; there was no one there to welcome them back, or commiserate with them over lost comrades. All that waited were several batteries of automated Gauss guns, intended to deter anyone who saw the depot’s stores as a ripe candidate for theft. Naval vessels automatically broadcast a signal that identified them as a friend or—

Wait. With all the other things occupying his mind, this one had slipped past Samson entirely. They weren’t on a naval vessel, and couldn’t broadcast the codes. As though reading his mind, a communication crackled out from the comms system.

‘Unidentified vessel, you are approaching Terran Union Naval Depot Four Six Three Eight Two. Change course immediately and maintain distance of five hundred kilometres, or you will be fired upon.’

Samson’s heart raced. It was an automated message, so there was no one at the other end with whom to reason. If they remained within range, they would be blasted to pieces by their own side. He swore at himself for forgetting, but there wasn’t a whole lot he would have been able to do. He rushed back to the command chair and checked his screen. They were still outside the five-hundred-kilometre zone, so he channelled power to the braking thrusters and brought the Bounty to a halt at a safe distance. That done, he tried to think his way out of the problem.

The transponder was an in-built system that had several layers of security to ensure it would be nigh on impossible to falsify a signal. It wasn’t his area of expertise, however, and he had no idea what the options were. There was one person who did, which placed his remaining problems in orbit of one another. Harper had been the Sidewinder’s signals officer, but he didn’t know if that meant she would be able to jury-rig something. Even if she could, would she?

He could only hope that she would be able to put something together that would mimic the correct signal. Then he’d have to get her to agree to do it. At gunpoint, if need be. The alternatives were a very long journey to the nearest naval base—and running the gauntlet of their fragmenting reaction matter all over again—or putting down on Dobson in the hope that they could do what they needed to do from there.

He looked out at the depot—a dirty white dumbbell standing on its end, two thick disks connected by a cylinder. What had, only moments before, represented sanctuary now threatened to blast them to oblivion. He racked his brain for any solution that would not involve Harper, but it was an exercise in futility. Signals was a highly specialised role, and she was the only person on board who had the training.

The message played again.

‘Oh, shut up,’ Samson muttered as he double-checked that they had stopped and remained outside the exclusion zone. He stared at the depot, imagining all its guns pointed at him. He needed Harper’s help. And even if she agreed, she might not be able to do what was needed.

He hit the intercom. ‘Sergeant Price, please report to the bridge.’

Price arrived moments later.

‘We’ve got a problem,’ Samson said.

‘A new one?’

Samson explained, but Price’s face remained inscrutable.

‘I don’t expect that’ll be an easy fix.’

‘No, and it’s not something I’ve the skill set to do,’ Samson said.

‘Harper?’

Samson nodded. ‘What kind of form is she in?’

Price shrugged. ‘As well as can be expected. What happened to the Sidewinder went hard on her. Now she’s made even more troubles for herself. It’s never easy to lose comrades, but it happens, and it happened to all of us. It’s no excuse for making a bad decision like she did.’

‘I suppose I should go and speak to her,’ Samson said.

‘Sounds like the best option.’

Samson hesitated before opening the door to the cabin Harper was secured in. For a moment he considered knocking, but decided against it. Whether he needed her help or not, she was