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

They had spent three days in orbit over the void, with little to do other than observe and make sure no one interfered with it. They had also made a few trips back down to the surface to talk to the locals. Either they were lying, or they didn’t know anything about the ruins, nor what had befallen the inhabitants of the burned-out farm. No one had heard of any unusual ships in the system, and short of conducting a batch of cerebral interrogations—a particularly nasty and invasive interrogation method permitted by the Alpha Protocol—Samson didn’t reckon there was anything else to be learned from the planet’s inhabitants.

Keeping the crew busy was difficult. They’d done such a thorough job of getting the Bounty shipshape that there were only the most basic of maintenance and cleaning tasks required, none of which were enough to fill a watch. The truth of it was, Samson was getting as bored as any of them, and he was tempted to land by the ruins to continue his exploration.

‘I’m detecting an approaching ship, sir,’ Harper said.

‘The Peterson?’ Samson said, stirring from his lethargy. She wasn’t due quite yet, but if he were the Peterson’s captain, he knew he wouldn’t have wasted a moment in getting to where the excitement was. Samson knew he couldn’t discount trouble, though. Just because things had been quiet up to now didn’t mean they would stay that way. If it was the Peterson, though, she couldn’t have arrived at a more opportune time to save his sanity from boredom.

‘Still too far away to be certain, but the size and power output are about right.’

‘Excellent,’ Samson said, although as the words left his mouth, he realised he wasn’t sure that was the way he felt. The strain and suddenness of his command had placed huge stress on him, but he was starting to grow accustomed to it. Even on a patched-together junker like the Bounty, there was an appeal to the freedom and autonomy of an independent command. Once the Peterson arrived, he would be taking direct orders again.

‘Sir, I don’t think it’s the Peterson,’ Harper said.

Samson brought up the sensor data on his console. The screen flickered in protest, a reminder that the Bounty was still an old ship despite all of their improvements and was past the end of her intended service life. No amount of cleaning, upgrades, or overhauling would change the fact that deep within her, beyond the reach of their overhaul, she was old and tired.

‘The exhaust signature looks the same as the one we detected after the Sidewinder was destroyed,’ Harper said.

Samson realised the same thing as she said it. ‘Mister Kushnir, I need full power output, now,’ he said, without missing a beat.

‘Lieutenant Harper, set a course for anywhere but here. We need to go, fast. Very fast.’

Samson felt the forces on his body as the Bounty broke out of orbit and blasted away from Dobson as fast as her thrusters could drive her. Putting an old ship like that under the stress of going from stationary to maximum thrust was not a good idea, but hanging around to get blasted to bits was an even worse one. Their upgraded thrusters had a greater output than she would have originally been designed for—much more than the overhauled dampeners could accommodate—so it was no great surprise to Samson when the alarm klaxon went off.

‘Hull stress at one hundred twelve percent of maximum operating level,’ Harper said.

The thrusters roared, filling the bridge with noise, forcing Samson to shout to be heard.

Let’s just hope the repair drones were able to strengthen the hull enough; otherwise getting away from that ship won’t do us much good, Samson thought.

‘I think they’re giving chase, sir.’

Samson’s heart sank. ‘Target her. We’ll try and slow her down if we have to.’

‘She’s closing. Fast.’

‘Hail her.’

‘No response.’

Samson swore under her breath.

‘Try again.’

He listened to Harper hail them, and chewed on his lip as he waited for a reply. There was still nothing.

‘Fire a warning salvo.’

He felt the ship judder as Price fired the Gauss guns.

‘They’re still coming, sir. I can detect a power surge. I think she’s powering weapons.’

Samson swore again. Suddenly, the appeal of an independent command did not seem so very great. He thought furiously, but could see no options. They were already going as fast as they could. He looked to the viewscreen, but the image it presented from the Bounty’s antiquated cameras—something he hadn’t had time to upgrade—was small, and it pixelated badly when he tried to magnify it. The effect gave it a more sinister appearance than perhaps it deserved, but even in the poor image, the design looked unusual. From the angle they were at, it looked like the round, leading edge of an enormous horseshoe. Samson couldn’t think of any human vessels that used a design like this.

‘Sergeant Price, lock onto her hull and fire at will.’

The Bounty juddered at regular intervals as the Gauss guns fired their ordnance at the pursuing vessel.

‘Harper. Anything?’

‘Looks like the rounds are just bouncing off its hull.’

Samson swore for the third time in as many minutes. Their Gauss guns were the smallest calibre of ship-mounted weapons, and were only effective when fired against targets with lighter armour, but he had hoped they’d be enough to dissuade any pursuit.

‘Cease fire,’ Samson said. ‘All power to sensors and power the Nexus Relay.’

‘Sir, that will cut thruster output.’

‘I know. We can’t outrun them, and we can’t outfight them. All we can do is try to give the Peterson some idea of what she’ll be up against.’

There was a delay in Harper’s reaction. ‘Aye, sir.’

His heart sank further as he realised there was no way out of it. They were at the mercy of whoever was chasing them, and he knew already that mercy did not seem to be their default approach.

‘Sir, I’m getting good data.’

‘Make sure it’s transmitted.’

‘Yes, sir, but there’s more than that,’ Harper said. ‘There’s nothing about the