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

Marines. He enjoyed the excitement of the boarding preparations vicariously, and regretted not being able to go with them. On any other ship, it would have been one of his duties, although now that he was a lieutenant commander it would be a rarer assignment; but while he was in command of a ship, it was against standard operating procedure for him to endanger himself. Not that he would let that stop him if he wanted to do it badly enough. After his run-in with the aliens on Dobson, however, he thought it better if he played things by the book. At least for the time being.

‘Ready on the hatch, Sarge.’

Samson recognised Corporal Smit’s voice on the intercom.

‘Release,’ Price said.

Samson could hear the sound of an airlock opening, and the characteristic hiss of gas as the final balance in pressures was met.

‘Mister Smith will see you in his stateroom,’ an unfamiliar male voice said. Across the intercom, it was impossible to tell if it was artificial or a person speaking.

Samson resisted the urge to request an update from Price—the Marine knew his business, and would report when he could.

‘Terran Union Marines.’ That was Price’s voice, seemingly ignoring the greeting. ‘We’re boarding and searching this vessel under the powers of the Merchant Shipping and Navigation Acts. Stand aside.’

‘Mister Smith will gladly answer any questions you might have,’ the voice said.

‘I’ll speak with Mister Smith when I’m ready,’ Price said. ‘Stand. Aside.’

That seemed to confirm there was a person waiting to meet them at the airlock. The fact there hadn’t been shots fired meant things were already going as well as could be hoped for. He was curious as to who Mister Smith was, and it occurred to him that if he was wealthy enough to own an Excelsior Bay, then he was perhaps a man to be treated with a little more consideration than most. Samson had already created enough ammunition to be used against him—the last thing he needed was to have a billionaire baying for his dishonourable discharge over a heavy-handed interdiction.

He gave in to temptation and hit the intercom button. ‘Sergeant Price, as soon as you have the ship secure, I’ll come across and meet with Mister Smith.’

29

A man in a perfectly pressed suit was waiting for Samson at the airlock. He proved to be the source of Price’s welcome on board, and introduced himself as ‘Sanders’. The Marines were spread out along the corridor behind Sanders. They were in a combat stance, always ready to deal with any threat, even though they’d deemed the ship safe. Seeing a ship like this out on the Frontier was too odd a thing for them to be able to relax, even when there was nothing obviously threatening about it.

The difference in the surroundings represented an abrupt change for Samson. Although the faded, stained, and dreary panelling in the Bounty had been given a naval update and appeared fresh and ship-shape, the Maggie’s interior made it look like a garbage scow. Everything was lined with contrasting stitched leather and wood panelling. Recessed lights in various intensities and hues gave the ship a warm and intimate atmosphere.

Samson followed Sanders to meet with the mysterious Mister Smith, with his Marines at regular intervals behind him, carbines at the ready. Sanders brought him to a large door at a T-junction in the corridor, and waved his right hand over a panel at its side.

‘Mister Smith, I have Lieutenant Commander Samson for you.’

‘Show him through,’ came the voice from inside.

Samson thought it odd that the servant had a more refined accent than the master, but it was not unknown—the galaxy was a place where a person could start with nothing, and finish with an entire star system in their grasp. He crossed the threshold, and Price made to follow, but Sanders held up his hand.

‘Just Lieutenant Commander Samson,’ he said.

Price looked to Samson, who nodded.

‘It’ll be fine.’

He continued into a large stateroom that was even more luxurious than the corridors. The room was dominated by a large desk of brilliantly lacquered wood, inset with all the touch-sensitive displays a billionaire could want.

‘Captain Samson, thank you for coming to see me. My name is Kingston Smith, master of this ship.’

Mister Smith was a slight man, dwarfed by the desk he sat behind. He was bald with a neatly trimmed goatee and looked to be in his late fifties, although his eyes had an energetic alertness that made him seem younger.

‘It’s Lieutenant Commander,’ Samson said.

‘If you command your little ship, then you’re a captain, now, aren’t you? Even if the Navy chose to call you something different.’ He smiled in a cheeky, charismatic way and paused, seemingly waiting for Samson to agree with him.

Samson didn’t indulge him.

‘Can I ask what your business in Capsilan is?’

Smith shrugged and held his hands up. ‘This and that.’

‘You’re going to have to do better than that. You don’t see too many Excelsior Bays out this way.’

‘Beauty, isn’t she? Had her a couple of years now. Named her after my old mum.’

Samson noted the diversion of topic, but decided to play along. ‘That accent,’ Samson said. ‘New Southampton?’

‘New Portsmouth,’ Smith said, making it sound like ‘Portsmuff’.

Samson nodded. ‘New Falmouth, myself.’

‘Virtually neighbours, then,’ Smith said, with that same charismatic smile.

Both systems were in same sector of space, which had been mainly settled by colonists from the British Isles. New Portsmouth had a reputation for producing a disproportionately large number of pirates, something of which they tended to be proud. It made Samson suspicious of how Smith had come into possession of the Maggie ‘a couple of years’ ago.

‘The Navy is establishing a more visible presence in this sector and I’ve been assigned to that task. Which brings us up to where we are now.’ He gave Smith a moment to digest the news, then continued. ‘I’ll need to see all ownership and registration documents of this ship, and your logs and manifests.’

‘Of course, Captain,’ Smith said. ‘Sanders will see you get everything