The Alpha Protocol: Alpha Protocol Book 1

by Duncan M. Hamilton

  Samson couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a meal that hadn’t come out of the fabricator ready to eat, and considering the luxury of the rest of the ship, he couldn’t deny he was excited to see what the Maggie’s galley offered up. Judging by Price’s reaction—he was on his feet as soon as Smith had said ‘roast beef’—he was just as interested.

  The dining room was located off the lounge and was dominated by a walnut table that by Samson’s quick count could seat at least twelve. One wall was convex where the shape of the adjoining lounge intruded on it, but the design was so tastefully thought out that it seemed to add to the ambiance rather than make the room feel oddly shaped.

  Places for three had already been set, negating Samson’s ability to choose where he wanted to sit. Surrounding one end of the table, the setting would mean there was no getting away from dinnertime chitchat. That he was travelling in luxury on the space yacht of the most infamous pirate of his times made for a surreal experience. What did one talk to a pirate about over dinner? He supposed they could always compare interdiction and boarding methods, although he wanted to avoid the possibility of suggesting a naval technique that Smith hadn’t thought of before, and might feel compelled to try.

  They sat with Smith at the table’s head, while Sanders came in and out with drinks and the first course of their meal—a consommé that, when considered in partnership with what he knew was to come, very much reminded Samson of the type of meals he used to get at his English-tradition boarding school on New Falmouth.

  ‘Might I ask who’s running the ship?’ Samson said, beginning to wonder if it might be all automated. Even with the advanced technology available, that was still a risky thing to do.

  ‘Few of my lads from the old days,’ Smith said. ‘They fancied an adventure when I decided to shut up shop in the Core, so they stayed on with me. You’ll meet them later.’

  He pressed a button at the side of the table, and the convex wall revealed itself as a screen, projecting a holographic image that gave the diners the impression that it was flat.

  ‘I thought this might make for interesting dinner-time viewing,’ Smith said. He pressed another button. ‘Ready when you are, lads.’

  ‘Aye, Cap,’ came the response.

  The scene before them was of the exterior—nothing remarkable beyond the haunting beauty of space. The screen flashed with bright purple light for an instant, partnered with what Samson thought was a barely detectible judder in the ship—all the hallmarks of an agitator discharge and the jump into the Nexus Current.

  Nothing remarkable about that, Samson thought. Then he looked at his watch. They’d been on the ship little more than an hour—not much longer than they had needed to clear the atmosphere. They were a long way from the Nexus portal, even at the speeds Smith hinted the Maggie was capable of. Samson’s mouth dropped open as he came to the impossible realisation of what had just happened.

  ‘Did we just enter the Nexus Current?’ Samson said.

  ‘We did,’ Smith said, his face abeam.

  ‘We can’t be anywhere near the system’s portal. Did you locate another?’ A system having more than one Nexus portal was rare, but not unheard of. Samson reckoned he’d have known about it if there was another one in this system, though.

  ‘I didn’t,’ Smith said.

  Samson felt his frustration grow at Smith’s evasiveness. ‘How?’

  ‘It was certainly worth seeing the look on your face,’ Smith said. ‘A little something we found on that ship we’re going to take a look at.’

  Samson shook his head in disbelief. What they had just done was impossible according to all understanding of how the Nexus Current worked. This alone would change everything. The thought of what more might await discovery was overwhelming.

  ‘Even if you found a device that allowed you to enter the Current anywhere,’ Samson said, ‘how the hell did you learn to use the alien tech? How did you integrate it with your systems?’

  ‘It took a while, and a couple of mistakes along the way,’ Smith said with a wince. ‘One of my lads is a pretty decent engineer. And physicist. Learned his trade with your lot, at the Naval Academy. I think he’s number eight on the list of sailors I’m supposed to have murdered, but that doesn’t really matter anymore, thanks to your pardon. I’ve learned quite a bit myself, over the years.’

  Samson opened his mouth to say something, but Smith continued.

  ‘Languages and all that might be different, but physics and numbers stay pretty much the same. Once you have an idea of what something might do, and understand enough of the principles around it, you can work it out. There were only so many things it could do, so we asked ourselves what might they need that we hadn’t already identified the device for. What might come in really handy, if only we could make it work? We bounced a few ideas around, but none of them really fit the bill. Then one of my lads, Ali, said “What if it lets you agitate the Current from wherever you want, boss?” “That would be pretty handy,” said I, so we had a look at its insides with that in mind. Bit by bit we worked out what it did, then we fabricated a few test units and gave it a try. Don’t get me wrong, there’s bits in there that we’ve no idea about—what they do, or how they do it—but you don’t need to understand something to copy it, so long as you’re careful.’

  Samson was trying to digest everything he was being told. The use of Nexus portals as the only point at which a ship could open an entry into the Current was such a fundamental to space travel. This was like being told suns orbited their planets.

  ‘First thing we learned is that it’s a really, really bad idea to try and use it when you’re in a gravity well. At least we had the sense to try it out on a barren planet.’

  He slurped up some soup with a nonchalance that belied the ominous way he had delivered his previous sentence. Samson wanted to know what had happened to the planet. Or the ship they’d tried it with. And its crew. Surely they’d have tried unmanned tests first?

  ‘Once you’re out of the well, though,’ Smith said, ‘it works a treat. Only took another couple of goes to get that together. We tested a bit more, then stuck one in the Maggie. The lads thought I was bonkers, but I’d seen it work enough times to take the chance. And here we are, dozens of jumps later safe and sound, and able to enter the Current within two hours of leaving the surface of a planet. The Maggie’s computer can drop us out within the same distance, so it makes getting about the place pretty quick. So quick it’s almost a waste of all this luxury!’

  ‘I… uh,’ Samson said. ‘This all takes a lot of processing.’

  ‘It’s not all gravy,’ Smith said. ‘The agitator needs a lot of power. Lots more power, actually, so charging it up’s still an issue. We’ve tried ships bigger than the Maggie, and we weren’t able to get enough power through it to work for them. Maybe the aliens have bigger ones, but perhaps there’s a limit.’

  Unless you’ve an appropriate power source, Samson thought. He was nodding slowly as the implications of a device like this sunk in. Something like this could make a pirate all but untouchable. With a temptation like that, he wondered how long Smith was likely to remain a law-abiding citizen.

  ‘Why are you telling me this? Why are you revealing it?’ Samson said. Smith could have stripped the ship of this device before turning it over to the Navy, and kept it to himself.

  ‘I’m a human, aren’t I? Whatever you may have heard of me, whatever you might think, if it comes to war, it’s the Navy who’ll be fighting our corner. I’m not stupid enough to stand in the way of that. Anyhow, this is my great rehabilitating gesture. We all know how Arthur Kingsley’s going down in the history books, truth or not, but Kingston Smith? I reckon he’s going to be remembered a bit differently.’

  Samson raised an eyebrow. It was an interesting way to look at things, and certainly not one he’d expected from Smith. ‘What else did you find?’

  ‘Only looked in the engine room, mate,’ Smith said, with a satisfied smile. ‘Every
one spotted it as being unusual, so we started with it. Before this trouble came along, I thought I had plenty of time to pick the ship over, work out what’s what, and decide what to sell and what to keep. Not anymore. Everything else that was on that ship is still down there. Including a few of the lanky purple fellas who flew it. What’s left of them, anyhow.’

  Samson’s reaction was interrupted by Sanders removing his soup bowl and replacing it with a plate of roast beef and trimmings. The smell was overpowering, and even the tantalising prospect of capturing an alien ship faded into the background by comparison.

  The journey to Talhoffer 18 was completed in far less time than Samson had expected it to take them to reach the Nexus portal in Holmwood’s system. That this technology would revolutionise space travel was beyond doubt—its impact would be as great as that of discovering the Nexus in the first place.

  As revolutionary and exciting an idea as that was, it also added to Samson’s worry. The aliens already had this technology, and even if it was possible to reverse-engineer the systems without too much difficulty, it would take a long time before humanity was able to scale it up enough to make a difference. If they couldn’t work out how to apply it to larger ships of the line, it would be largely useless. They were coming into what was surely an impending war with a huge technological disadvantage. That was ground they needed to make up, and fast. It made him feel the pressure of this mission all the more. Having the other Marines with him would have made him feel more at ease. He cast a glance over at Smith, who was every bit the master of his domain.

  Why couldn’t I have held my ground on bringing them? Samson wondered.

  He hadn’t even considered how valuable this device was. If it got into the wrong hands—and it was arguably already in hands that were as wrong as could be—the alien Nexus agitator could entirely shift the delicate political balance across the Union. Infighting to possess this tech could prove to be more of a threat to humanity than the aliens.

  Price had seemed to relax a little over the course of the journey. Despite his early attitude, he seemed to have a rapport with Smith, who—free from the fear of incriminating himself—regaled them with tales of his youth working his way through the criminal hierarchy on New Portsmouth. He was an entertaining raconteur, and charismatic, even if Samson still thought his default demeanour to be menacing. Samson found himself warming to the man, and had to remind himself that he and his pirate empire were responsible for the deaths of hundreds of naval personnel, law enforcement officers, and innocent civilians. Nonetheless, it became apparent to him that Smith was as much legend as truth, and reading between the lines, he could tell that plenty of the naval personnel Smith had interacted with had greed rather than duty as a motive. Officers like that deserved what they got. Getting themselves killed while trying to line their own pockets by aiding a wanted criminal definitely did not qualify as dying in the line of duty.

  Samson stood and walked to the viewscreen in Maggie’s lounge when Talhoffer 18-D hove into view after a short Current transit. This was where Smith claimed to have discovered the alien ship. There was nothing remarkable about the planet other than that it had a breathable atmosphere, although with a lower oxygen content than was ideal. It didn’t look like there was much water, either. Not much to recommend it, but he supposed in another fifty years or so, all being well, it might be a candidate for terraforming, after a few icy asteroids were dragged into a decaying orbit to introduce some additional moisture.

  ‘What brought you out here in the first place?’ Samson said.

  ‘Oh, you know, this and that.’

  ‘You said that before,’ Samson said. ‘I don’t actually know. It’s just curiosity.’

  ‘Every pirate king needs his secret desert island hideaway,’ Smith said. ‘I came across this planet when I was looking for mine.’

  ‘This one didn’t fit the bill?’

  Smith adopted a forlorn expression. ‘A little too dry for my taste. Still, good for the ship. Not sure how long it’s been down there, but it looks like new. Aside from the fact that it’s crashed.’

  Samson returned his gaze to the viewscreen and the planet, which was rapidly growing larger.

  ‘We’ll set her down and I’ll show you what I found,’ Smith said. ‘You’re not going to believe it.’

  ‘I might, you know,’ Samson said.

  Smith shook his head and smiled. ‘This is going to change your life.’

  The Maggie touched down on the planet’s surface so gently Samson wasn’t even certain it had actually happened. The entire trip out had been as luxurious a time as he had ever experienced, even though it felt like he was sitting in a tiger’s cage. Smith had been a perfect host, but Samson was so keen to see the crashed ship that he was willing to give up the Maggie’s comforts.

  ‘So,’ Smith said. ‘There’s a few things I should tell you before we get out there. We spotted a ship landing on this planet when we dropped out of the Current.’

  ‘What?’ Samson said, his heart sinking.

  ‘Yeah. Seems like whoever lost it has come to fetch it.’

  ‘What do you know about this ship?’ If it was the hostile ship, they could be in very deep trouble.

  ‘It wasn’t big. Looked like a scout ship of some sort. Lots of unusual trace signatures. Our scans say it dropped out of the Current pretty close to the planet, which small human ships don’t tend to be able to do, so I’d say it’s definitely not one of ours.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before we landed?’

  ‘Because it didn’t matter then.’

  ‘What do you mean? We should have reconsidered landing. Waited for the fleet.’

  ‘Over a scout ship?’ Smith said. ‘And risk losing the prize? If all you Navy boys were that soft, my life woulda been a lot easier. Did you really think we were just going to drop in and take what we wanted?’

  Samson’s initial reaction was yes, but he felt foolish at the thought of admitting it.

  ‘We’ll nip in, kill any of the new arrivals that gives us bother, and if it looks like some of their friends are going to arrive, we pinch anything that’s not bolted down and get. With the Maggie’s upgrades, she’s just as fast and nimble as they are. We’ll blast out of orbit, pop into the Current, and they’ll never see us again.’

  Samson nodded. Having the new alien agitator certainly made evasion easier. There would be no more wounded retreats across a star system trying to get to the Nexus portal. A ship with enough power and a functioning agitator could jump away from trouble instantly, leaving their pursuer no idea of where they might drop out of the Current again.

  ‘We should move fast to secure the site. Where did the alien ship land?’

  ‘Not too far away, but we’ll beat them to it. We can set up an ambush at the crash site, and I’ll send a couple of my lads around behind them to knock out their ship. With a bit of luck, your lot will arrive before their lot, and you’ll get a two-for-one deal.’ He paused a moment. ‘I should ask for another pardon, just in case I have a relapse.’ He chuckled as the door to the lounge opened and four men walked in, dressed in battle suits similar to the one Price wore on boarding operations.

  ‘Lieutenant, this motley group is Bert, Trevor, Nigel, and Ali.’

  The four men nodded but didn’t say anything. It seemed they already knew exactly who Samson and Price were.

  ‘They know what they’re about,’ Smith said, ‘so you don’t need to worry about them. Better than Marines.’ He cast a glance over at Price. ‘And before your feelings get all hurt, they’ve proved it. More than once. Bert and Nige were GSOC once upon a time. Got bored of bad food and crap pay. Didn’t you, lads?’

  ‘That’s right, Kingston,’ said the larger of the two, a man with sandy hair.

  Samson had no idea whether he was Bert or Nige, but the fact that he was former GSOC—Galactic Special Operations Command—meant that he was a serious operator. Even Price would have to credit them with that.

 
‘Well, my lovelies,’ Smith said. ‘We can stand here nattering all day, or we can go crack some heads and nick some alien tech.’

  35

  Samson pulled his environmental suit on quickly and silently. He was starting to feel more like a Marine than a sailor, and although he had the basic package of training for ground combat he was far from the expert the other men in the environmental suit room were. He realised even Price might be at a disadvantage. Smith’s men had been top-tier operators, if Smith was to be believed. They laughed and joked as they got into their suits with the casual air of men who were about to head out for a stroll. Only experience or stupidity allowed someone to behave like that. Samson hoped very much it was the former.

  His nerves were building to the point he couldn’t ignore them any longer, and he took long measured breaths as the butterflies trying to beat their way out of his stomach intensified their effort. He worried that he was starting to wear out his luck. It certainly hadn’t been skill that had gotten him through the encounter on the surface of Dobson. Everyone’s luck ran out eventually, and he reckoned he’d been pressing his pretty hard over the past days.

  The environmental suit room, just to the side of the Maggie’s external hatch, was like the locker room at a high-end sports club. The floor was covered with plush navy carpet, while the walls were lined with stained oak full-length lockers that stored the suits. The ship’s dedication to luxury was unending, and even though he guessed at the price as running into the hundreds of millions of credits, he was actually starting to think it was reasonable value for the money.

  He didn’t want to be shown up by a bunch of former pirates, and judging by the quiet and efficient way Price was going about preparing his kit, neither did he. Even if most of them seemed to have a solid military pedigree behind them, they were still pirates.

  ‘You lads ready to go?’ one of Smith’s men said—the one with the mop of sandy hair. Samson wasn’t sure if he was Bert or Nige. Or Trevor or Ali, for that matter. They’d been introduced en masse, and Samson had no idea who was whom.