The Alpha Protocol: Alpha Protocol Book 1 by Duncan Hamilton (free ebook reader for iphone .TXT) 📗

fear? If that was the case, it was difficult to not feel some sympathy for her. However, acting out of fear was unbecoming of an officer—and organising a mutiny? It was clear what the thinking on that was. No matter how angry he was with what she had done, he struggled to find it within himself to wish the firing squad upon her. Perhaps his softness was unbecoming of an officer too. He suspected that might be Price’s position on it. Price was most likely correct.

They reached the building with the neon sign, and looked it over. It wasn’t at all what Samson had been expecting. Price looked a little less surprised.

‘This is a whorehouse,’ Harper said. ‘I think the clerks at the spaceport were having a little fun with us.’

From the tone of her voice, Harper clearly didn’t see the humour in it.

‘Maybe so, but look.’ Samson pointed inside to shelves of what looked to be ship’s components. ‘Maybe the owner wanted to diversify his offerings. Spirit of entrepreneurship, and all that.’

Price let out a short laugh, but Harper cast him a withering look.

They walked through the open doors and toward the shelves of components before starting to browse. In truth, Samson had little clue what they were looking for, and suspected the same was true of Price, but it seemed to fit with their cover. He could only hope Harper was being on the level with them. If he discovered she’d been lying to him when they got back to the Bounty, he reckoned that would be enough to change his feelings on the firing squad. They had only been there for a few moments when a man approached them.

‘If you tell me what you’re looking for, I might be able to help. I’m Sirion Bates, proprietor.’

Samson gestured to Harper.

‘A comms computer capable of multiple signal modulation,’ she said

‘Not something I get a request for often.’ He smiled conspiratorially. In such a place, the only likely use for such a device was nefarious. ‘I think I have something to fit the bill. While I help the lady find her computer,’ Bates said, ‘why don’t you gentlemen go next door and relax? I think you’ll find something for every taste.’

‘Another time,’ Samson said, feeling an almost overwhelming temptation to punch Bates in the mouth. He just had one of those faces. ‘We’re just here to get the unit.’

‘Your loss.’ Bates walked along the line of shelves before stopping. ‘Everything we have is here. Mostly salvaged, but there are a few new units. How will you be paying?’

‘Naval requisition credits,’ Samson said. It let their secret out, but it was the only obvious way for them to pay. There was nothing of value on the Bounty to barter with, so Samson felt he had no option but to reveal their hand.

‘We don’t take credit,’ Bates said, his face twisting as though someone had farted in it. ‘Navy credit least of all.’

Samson thought for a moment, and decided to take a hard line. Now that their identity was out in the open, there was no point in not taking advantage of it. ‘Would you rather I have my captain send down a company of Marines to commandeer the unit?’

Bates’s eyes flicked to Price, who stood glowering at him. Bates seemed to understand what Price was, and his composure faltered a little. Samson reckoned that threats might be a worthwhile avenue to explore if they couldn’t come to a deal.

‘Rules are rules,’ Bates said. ‘No credit means no credit. Navy boy like you should understand rules.’

‘This is the Frontier,’ Samson said. ‘There’s no such thing as rules here. What’s the price? Perhaps we can trade for it.’

The man scratched his chin and thought for a moment. ‘A dozen naval carbines.’

Samson wasn’t sure how many there were in the arsenal on the depot, but reckoned there should be that many at least. They only had three on the Bounty, and he was loath to give them up. He was jolted from his train of thought by a loud crack, the unmistakable sound of close gunfire.

‘What was that?’ Samson said. It could have been as close as the brothel on the other side of the building.

‘Sounds like someone got shot.’ Bates said, showing neither surprise nor concern.

‘And you want me to give you carbines?’

‘A man’s got to keep himself safe.’

‘Well, forget it; it’s not going to happen. Each one is worth more than that unit anyway. I’ll give you one naval-grade power cell—it’ll keep those neon signs of yours running into the next century. But you’ll have to wait until I’ve collected it from the orbital depot, and I’ll need to take the comms computer with me now.’

Bates laughed out loud. ‘Do you think I got all this by being a fool? You’ll take the computer and I’ll never see you again.’

‘I’m Navy. We’re not exactly hard to find. I’ll give you an official requisition order.’

Bates seemed unmoved.

‘I’ll let you in on a little secret, Sirion. The Navy are coming. Holmwood will be a naval station before the year’s out. Do you want them to know you as a friend when they get here? An honest chandler who could become a registered supplier? Or something else? You’ll be paid. The Navy doesn’t operate like Frontier privateers.’

Sirion let out a humph, but Samson knew he had him.

‘A naval-grade power cell?’

Samson nodded.

‘Where is it?’

‘On the orbital depot. If you’ve a ship, you can come and collect it, or we’ll have it delivered as soon as possible.’

He sighed and scanned the label on the computer with his tablet. ‘Authorise this with your naval identification and you can take it.’

Samson proffered the Navy ID chip embedded in his wrist, and Bates scanned it with a grudging nod. Like the Navy or not, their money was always good. As soon as Harper had her hands on the unit, Samson spoke again.

‘We’ll also need some reaction matter. Five grams.’

‘I can supply that also,’ Bates said. ‘Naval credit again?’

Samson nodded. ‘It