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

They had put a counter in bright orange numerals up on the display. It was racing down.

‘I take it that number getting smaller isn’t a good thing,’ Samson said, already knowing the answer, but dreading hearing it all the same.

‘It’s accelerating faster than we are,’ Smith said.

There was no emotion in his voice or his face as he stared at the screen. His dark eyes, like a shark’s, processed what was before him. He was a picture of cold calculation.

‘If that number hits zero before we get to the Nexus portal, I’m releasing the scout ship.’

‘That’s not acceptable,’ Samson said. ‘We have to get that ship back to the Admiralty. The tech on board could be the difference between winning and losing the war that we’re going to have to fight against them.’

‘I’m all for patriotism,’ Smith said, as he turned his icy stare on Samson, ‘but I’m more for living.’

‘I know you don’t attach much value to sailors’ lives, but I do. Thousands will die in this war. Maybe tens of thousands. The tech in that ship will give us a head start. Who knows how many men and women it’ll save, but if it’s even one, then we have to do everything we can to get that ship back into friendly hands.’

‘Nice speech,’ Smith said, in that menacing voice he seemed to reserve for moments of extreme displeasure, ‘but I just told you something. I didn’t ask for your opinion. You’d do well to remember that.’

He turned back to his vigil, ignoring Samson and leaving him to feel like a naughty schoolboy who’d just had a dressing-down from his teacher. This was worse, though. He was a naval officer, and Smith was a pirate. There was no way he could allow a pirate to speak to him like that. His anger started to flare and he opened his mouth to speak. Then it occurred to him—what option did he have? Smith could eject him and Price out into the vacuum, and would be unlikely to lose any sleep over it. As much as Samson fancied their chances against a few pirates, some of them were former GSOC operators, and he wasn’t fool enough to think his term of close quarters combat at the Naval Academy had equipped him to deal with them. He couldn’t let his pride cut off his nose to spite his face. He gritted his teeth and forced a smile.

‘Your call, Cap,’ Samson said, remembering how Bert had referred to Smith when he was out in the SBB. He would bite his tongue for now, but when they got back to Capsilan, it would be him calling the shots. Pardon or not, Smith was a pirate, an outlaw, and Samson wasn’t going to forget that.

He remained on the bridge with the others, watching the orange numbers race down, each leading digit hitting zero before it disappeared from the screen. When eventually they disappeared from the screen altogether, Smith looked over at Samson, this time with what appeared to be genuine regret in his usually soulless eyes.

‘Sorry, son. We have to let it go. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. You still have your prisoner, and the agitator unit which I’ll gladly give you the schematics for. None of that’ll be getting home if that bastard catches up with us.’

‘I know,’ Samson said, starting to feel like he’d been impractical. It would have been such a triumph, to come home with an intact enemy ship for study. Smith was right, though—they were still going home with something. Better than not getting home at all.

Smith narrowed his eyes for a moment, then hit the intercom. ‘Bert! Stick that beasty in a boarding suit and chuck it out the airlock. Fast, now.’

‘Aye, Cap.’

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Samson said.

‘I reckon there’s more of use in that ship than our lanky purple friend,’ Smith said. ‘I’d rather know how they shoot than how they crap. We’ll see how much these aliens care about their people. If they stop to pick him up, we’re home free. If not, then we’ll have to dump the ship.’

‘Beasty away,’ Bert said across the intercom.

‘How are we doing, Ali?’ Smith said.

‘Maximum safe thrust, Cap,’ Ali said. ‘Tractor’s in the yellow, but it’s holding solid.’

Smith nodded and watched the display console at his command chair. Moments passed. ‘The alien ship isn’t accelerating any more. She’s slowing.’ He stared in silence a moment longer. ‘Looks like they’re going to stop and get him. We’re pulling away. Happy days.’ He turned to Samson. ‘Well, Lieutenant Commander, looks like we’re out of the khazi.’ He smiled and turned back to his console.

Samson watched the alien as it spun in the vacuum of space, then disappeared out of view, and wondered what it would say about its close encounter with humans.

40

The Bounty was docked next to the depot in Holmwood’s orbit when the Maggie arrived back. There was still no sign of the fleet. Part of Samson had hoped that they’d be rushing into the Third Fleet’s protective embrace, but he hadn’t really expected them to be here yet.

He returned to the depot’s command centre, where Harper was sitting in the command seat. They’d left in such a hurry that he hadn’t had time to consider the command structure to leave behind him. As the only officer remaining, it was natural that she would fill that seat, but considering recent history, Samson found himself nonplussed when he walked in. An awkward silence persisted for a moment, as his mind raced with possibilities.

‘Nothing to report, sir,’ she said.

‘I… Thank you. Lieutenant,’ he said. Now that he had reported the mutiny as an insubordination matter that had been dealt with, there was no changing his mind without looking like a fool. ‘You can take a break if you like. I’ve some things to catch up on, so I can take the remainder of your shift if you want.’

‘Obliged, sir,’ Harper said.

Not needing to be asked twice, she left the