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

getting word back to the Admiralty about what we’ve discovered, and what’s happened, is our paramount duty. If anyone gives us trouble, I think we’re entitled to use lethal force to ensure the success of our mission.’

‘Agreed,’ Price said. ‘All things considered, I think we’re justified using those rules of engagement.’

‘Good,’ Samson said. ‘Attempt to deescalate, use non-lethal methods if that fails, but lethal force is authorised.’

‘Aye, sir,’ Price said.

‘Right, that’s the bones of it worked out. Time to talk to Harper and see what she needs.’ He couldn’t bring himself to refer to her as ‘Lieutenant’.

Price hit the intercom button on the control panel nearest him. ‘Corporal Féng, bring her in.’

The hatch opened a moment later, and Corporal Féng urged Harper forward before she had the chance to step forward on her own.

Samson turned to Harper. ‘You know exactly what we need to get past the depot’s automated defences?’

She nodded. ‘I believe so, sir.’

‘And if we can’t find what we need on Holmwood, do we have any other options?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘None of this ship’s systems are new or powerful enough for us to scavenge and cobble something together. The processing power required is massive—the Navy is pretty keen on their ships being the only ones able to create and broadcast the correct signals. The distress algorithm is a failsafe, but it’s still not easy to use.’

‘Could we get a signal back to the Admiralty from a surface facility?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Out here, communication’s still done the old-fashioned way,’ Harper said. ‘If you want to get in touch with someone out of system, you send them a letter on a transport. There’re only a few surveying and positioning satellites in orbit. Nothing that can transmit a Nexus signal. They rely on the depot. We do a mail transmit for their urgent stuff whenever we’re back at the depot, but there needs to be someone on the station to do that.’

Samson sighed. ‘The joys of automation. Okay, one way or the other, Holmwood offers us more options than we have here. We’ll take the Bounty down to the surface.’

The first question that entered his head was whether the Bounty was capable of atmospheric entry and could withstand prolonged exposure to gravity. He’d seen old junkers collapse around their landing struts, although he didn’t think that even the Bounty was in that bad a shape. He could tell that everyone else was having the same thought, and he reckoned it was best nipped in the bud.

‘The logs indicate Arlen landed this ship on planetary surfaces regularly,’ Samson said. ‘So I reckon she’s up to it.’

He hit the intercom button.

‘Mister Vachon, does this ship have heat sinks fitted?’ Samson said.

It took a moment for the response to come back. ‘Aye, sir. There’s a full bank of them back here.’

‘What kind of condition are they in?’

‘Same as the rest of the ship, sir.’

‘Good enough to allow a planetary landing?’

He could hear Vachon let out a whistle. ‘I can think of things I’d rather do. They’ll soak up the heat well enough, but there’s more to touching down planetside than heat. I’d not have much confidence in the hull integrity. We might get down all right, but we could be leaking like a sieve when we take her back out into a vacuum.’

Samson thought for a moment. There were no alternatives. They’d already taken too many risks, and come too far, to stop now.

‘This is the Navy, not a cruise line,’ Samson said. ‘All hands, prepare the ship for atmospheric entry. Run checks on all landing apparatus and airtight hatches.’ He realised making an ‘all hands’ when there were only three other sailors on the ship might have been overkill, but it felt like a good idea. He looked back at the others on the bridge with him. ‘We’ll worry about taking off again when we get to that point.’

13

It was only as the Bounty started getting buffeted by Holmwood’s upper atmosphere, and the external temperature sensors started to race upward, that Samson had a thought for the reaction matter. He wasn’t much worried about it right now—they were little more than a slightly aerodynamic brick dropping out of the heavens. The landing thrusters were pre-fuelled from the reactor’s trickle-down charging with what they would need to arrest their descent and effect a safe landing. Getting back up was a different matter. That would require nearly as much energy as charging and firing the agitator.

He wondered what the chances were of finding someone who could sell them some clean reaction matter on the surface. Considering that was probably where Arlen had bought his, Samson didn’t hold out too much hope. Still, a piece of intact reaction matter—dirty or not—was a better bet than the two pieces they currently had in their reactor. There were so many things to keep track of as commander. For the first time he felt sympathy for all his old officers. The buck stopped with the ship’s master. Any omissions or mistakes all landed at his feet, and it was making him feel stretched thin. How long would it be before he missed something that got them all killed? He took a deep breath and pushed the thought from his head. One decision at a time, he thought. That was all he could do.

The viewport glowed red as the air around the ship became thicker. Samson winced with each creak and groan of the hull as its plating adjusted to the heat. All it would take was for one panel to fail, and the ship could experience an explosive evacuation. He had no confidence that the emergency bulkheads would seal quickly enough to prevent that. Until they were nearing their landing approach, that was the main risk they faced. Everyone was wearing their boarding suits, although Samson didn’t believe for a second it would do them any good if the worst were to happen—they’d be sucked out the hole, or the entire ship would come