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

‘If you can think of something better,’ Samson said, ‘please let me know. The only other thing I can think of is running and hiding. Leaving the colonists to their own devices. I can’t do that, so we’re running with my plan and we don’t have much time to set it up. Can I leave you to your part, Lieutenant?’

Harper nodded, and left the command centre.

‘There’s a problem, sir,’ Price said over the intercom.

Samson grimaced. Price tended not to report problems; he dealt with them. ‘Go ahead, Sergeant.’

‘The detonation systems. They’ve been left uncharged for too long and the batteries have failed. I can’t get them to hold any power.’

‘What does that mean?’ Samson said.

‘It means you won’t be able to detonate it remotely.’

Samson swore. ‘If I hit the alien warship hard enough, will the explosives detonate?’

‘Probably not, sir. Safety measures. They’re designed to only go off when you really want them to.’

‘So the explosives are useless?’ Samson said.

‘Not exactly, sir. It just means they need to be detonated manually.’

It took a second for Samson to digest what that meant. Someone would have to be on the scout ship.

‘That means the only way to blow up that ship in proximity to the warship is to have someone on board?’ Samson said.

‘Pretty much, sir. The detonators will stay on for a few seconds before the batteries fail. They’ll need to be switched on, and detonated within that window.’

‘I’ve a few seconds to play with, then?’ Samson said, trying to salvage something from his plan.

‘No more than ten. I’d say about five to be on the safe side.’

Samson slumped back in his chair and rubbed his unshaven face in both hands. ‘If I set them on a five-second timer and jumped out of the airlock, what are my chances of survival?’

‘I… uh… There’s always a chance you’d be blown clear, but I’m not sure it’s one I’d be happy putting money on. The explosion will give you one hell of a kick. If you survive that you’ll be streaking through space like a comet, and there’s still the risk of damage to your suit, either from the explosion or from debris. If all that works out, you’ll need to be picked up before your air and power runs out.’

‘So you’re saying there’s a chance,’ Samson said, doing his best to convince himself that it could work. The explosion would be little different to an atmospheric evacuation, and people survived those if they were wearing suits. Admittedly there’d be quite a bit more power than an atmospheric evacuation, but the pressure wave caused by the explosion would dissipate quickly in the vacuum of space. If he could launch himself out of the airlock, might he get far enough away before the shockwave reached him to… surf it?

In his head, the physics of it seemed to be possible. He’d be working with very fine margins, but considering how many people would die if they did nothing, the benefit seemed to outweigh the risk.

‘Set up the explosives, Sergeant, so that the detonator is close to the ship’s hatch.’

‘Aye, sir.’

Samson left the bridge and made for the main airlock to get into his boarding suit.

‘Mister Vachon, I’m going to need a little help,’ Samson said as he walked. Not being present on the station added complication to his plan, but he didn’t think it was anything that couldn’t be overcome.

‘What do you need, sir?’ Vachon said.

‘Can you set me up with a system to remotely control the depot’s tractor magnets?’

‘All the code is stored in the Bounty’s new computers. It’s just a case of telling it what you want it to do and transmitting.’

‘What if I’m not on the Bounty? Can you put it onto a portable control unit? Something that will fit in the alien ship—my wrist datapad, perhaps.’

‘Um, I… I’ll sort something out.’

‘How long will it take?’

‘How long do I have?’

Samson glanced at his datapad. ‘Thirty minutes.’

‘I should be able to rustle something up. Not sure how much power and range it’ll have, though.’

‘Just do your best, Mister Vachon. That’s all I can ask.’

Samson wrestled his way into his environmental suit, then sat for a moment and tried to think of what else he might need. The suit, when paired with its helmet, was only designed for short-term emergency exposure to space, but he was heading off with the certainty that he would be out in the void, and not at all sure how long he might end up out there. He took an extra oxygen cylinder and battery from the storage lockers and placed them in the thigh pockets. There wasn’t room for more, so he hoped it would be enough. And that Harper would collect him in the Bounty as quickly as was possible.

‘How are we coming along with the ordnance, Sergeant Price?’ Samson said.

‘We’ve got enough in there to blow a hole in a battle cruiser, sir. If that doesn’t put a dent in them, nothing will.’

‘That’s exactly what I’m looking for,’ Samson said. ‘I’ll need you to show me how to use the detonator.’ He stood and headed for the cargo bay.

When he arrived, the Marines were to one side clearing up after their flurry of activity. Price and Vachon were waiting by the alien ship’s open door.

‘I’ve set up this datapad with an external transmitter and battery,’ Vachon said. He turned it over and showed Samson a blocky addition to the back of the unit, held in place with standard-issue environmental suit patching tape. ‘I’ve set up the pad to use parasite software similar to the SBB, and created an open connection so there’s no problem getting access to the station’s controls. The transmitter and battery should be able to give you about twelve hours of control.’

‘Good work,’ Samson said. He took the pad and looked through it. He’d taken a moment to look through the depot’s tractor controls. It was only intended for moving and manipulating objects in and out of the cargo