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

in his gut when he thought of their other alternative: kill him, pretend he’d died on the Sidewinder, and carry on with their lives and careers as if nothing had happened. Of course, that would mean having to kill Price and his Marines also, which would be a tricky thing to accomplish. Samson also hoped he’d sufficiently driven a wedge between Harper and the other two. He’d made it clear to them they might get away with nothing more than a dishonourable discharge. Right now she was the only one facing a firing squad, but Vachon and Kushnir would be putting themselves in line for that too if they chose this option. That didn’t mean Harper might not try it on her own, however, and hope everyone went along with it afterwards, as she had done with the Marines in the mutiny.

Samson called Price over. ‘Now that you’ve had time to think about it, how would you arrange the shore party? This is more a Marine’s territory than a sailor’s. Plus we have the mutiny issue to consider.’

Price nodded. ‘Lock Kushnir and Vachon in cabins, and we leave Smit and Féng here to keep an eye on them. You, me, and Harper will go ashore. She gives us any trouble, we put a bullet in her and find another way of doing things.’

‘I’ve already given Kushnir and Vachon their parole in return for good behaviour, though.’

‘So what? Sir. They’re mutineers. If they get anything better than a firing squad, they’ll be thankful for it.’

‘Fair enough,’ Samson said. ‘It’s along the lines of what I was thinking. Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going back on my word or being heavy-handed.’

Price nodded. ‘You’re doing a fine job, sir. I know this isn’t easy, being your first command and all. You owe the mutineers nothing, no matter how much they help now. Focus on the mission, and don’t worry about them.’

Samson nodded.

‘I’ll go and get everything ready,’ Price said.

‘Dismissed,’ Samson said. ‘We’ll reconvene at the airlock in ten minutes.’

Samson had no reason to think the locals would be actively hostile to the Navy—uncooperative and resentful perhaps, but he reckoned going out in civilian clothes and doing their best to keep a low profile was the smart move.

Once he’d completed the landing checks and was satisfied the landing struts weren’t going to snap off, Samson went to the ship’s fabricator and set it to producing himself a set of civilian clothes. He spent so much time in uniform that he didn’t give much thought to casual clothing, and wasn’t sure what he would need to fit in on a Frontier planet. The thought of asking Harper, who had grown up in a Frontier system, made him uncomfortable. He tried to remember what was being worn in the Core before he’d left for the Frontier, and picked out something that looked broadly similar to that, but plainer.

He put the clothes on quickly once the machine dispensed them, and looked himself over in the greasy mirror. It wasn’t bad, but not looking like a naval officer would involve more than a change of clothes. He’d have to do his best to blend in. Harper was unlikely to have any problems, but Price was as rigid a drill master as they came. He could be dressed up in a clown costume, and everything about his bearing would scream ‘Marine’. Still, people on the Frontier had many careers in their background, and he was sure they wouldn’t be the only ones on the surface to have served in the military.

He joined the others at the main airlock, where they waited in their chosen civilian attire. It was a relief to see they weren’t dressed all that differently to him. His worry about Price couldn’t have been any more misplaced, and he could instantly see the sort of life the Marine sergeant would have led had he not found a home in the service. He was the type of man Samson would cross the street to avoid. Everything about him said there was trouble there. It seemed effortless, and Samson was envious—there was no better way to keep yourself out of trouble than to naturally exude the air of being the apex predator. With Price in their group, perhaps they might have an easier time of it than he had feared.

14

Holmwood spaceport was little more than a piece of wasteland surrounded by ring fencing, and fronted by a collection of the standard colony planet prefabricated units. The units could be laid out on the ground and connected, or stacked up on top of each other. On rare occasions, they were covered with a fascia to make them look like a more established building. These ones were the bog-standard variety, however—a dull shade that wasn’t white, but wasn’t quite grey either. People always expected them to be temporary, so usually did little to improve their looks.

The town beyond looked very much the same. It gave the place a bleak, soulless look—a place no self-respecting person would be satisfied in calling home. Every city in the Union that wasn’t on Earth had started in a similar fashion, and he was confident that as soon as people arrived who wanted to turn it into a home, rather than to get away from somewhere else, all that would change. For the time being, however, the interior of the Bounty made for a more attractive residence.

There was little in the way of an official presence in the spaceport. Elsewhere he would have expected to be greeted by customs agents and border security. Here, it seemed like they were able to come and go as they pleased. Samson could see how that might feel liberating to someone tired of the rules and regulations of life in the Core—even he found it refreshing. It wasn’t going to last long, though. With the discovery of alien artefacts, he suspected this spaceport would be a naval base within a few months. If the artefacts proved