‘Step aside quietly and this won’t have to go badly for any of us.’
Faced with two armed men, Samson was the only one it was likely to go badly for.
‘It doesn’t look like I have any choice,’ he said, satisfied that he hadn’t won the sailors over to his point of view. He stood and offered his hands. Was this what it had been like for the captains who mutinied the Fifth Fleet? ‘Will you be cuffing me?’
‘I’ll be satisfied with your word that you won’t resist,’ Harper said. ‘If you don’t cause any trouble, as soon as help gets here, I’ll be happy for us to forget about the whole thing.’
‘I’m sure you will be,’ Samson said. He knew only too well that mutiny was a capital offence.
‘Mister Vachon, please escort Lieutenant Samson to the master’s quarters.’
‘Aye, ma’am,’ Vachon said. He gestured for Samson to move with a flick of his head.
Samson did as he was commanded and moved toward the hatch. He briefly entertained the idea of making a move for Vachon’s pistol when he got closer, but with Kushnir looking trigger-happy a few paces away, Samson reckoned it would be a mistake. Things would change as they drifted through space and started to run out of supplies. He only hoped it wouldn’t be too late for him to do anything about it.
Vachon and Kushnir brought him down the corridor to the master’s cabin. Samson cast Vachon a glance.
‘Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on the reaction matter?’
‘I’ll be going right back once we’re done here,’ he said.
‘I wonder what’s worse, the firing squad for mutiny or dying in the explosion from a cascade?’
‘No need to be like that, sir. We’re just doing what we think’s for the best. For all of us.’
The mention of all of them got Samson thinking. He’d seen no sign of Price or the other Marines being involved in this. He was left alone with that question when Vachon closed and locked the door. Samson saw his holster hanging empty where he had left it, then sat on the edge of the bed. It was so filthy, even now he was reluctant to lie on it.
9
The master’s cabin on Arlen’s Bounty in no way deserved the title. On any other ship, the lowest-ranking sailor would have been horrified at being told to bunk there. It was filthy and stank of sweat and stale smoke—a foul habit that seemed to be kept in existence by long-haul freighter crews. It was small, the paintwork was faded, chipped, and stained, and the head looked like it might pose a health hazard. How anyone could make their home in such a place was a mystery to Samson, but for the time being it was his entire universe.
As incommodious as the cabin was, Samson wasn’t excited by the sound of a curt knock on the cabin door before it started to open. He looked up, curious as to who it would be and what they wanted. He was wondering if the crew had had a change of heart, or if they’d decided pushing him out of an airlock would be better for all involved. He reckoned the latter was more likely, and was in no way encouraged by Sergeant Price’s steely face greeting him when the door completed its laborious and faltering opening.
‘Lieutenant,’ Price said.
‘Guard duty for a sergeant?’
Price shrugged. ‘Mind if I come in a moment?’
‘By all means,’ Samson said, still unable to work out from Price’s demeanour if they were working their way toward his execution.
Price closed the door and leaned back against it, leaving Samson to sit on the small stool by the desk.
‘What can I do for you, Sergeant?’
He looked about the foul cabin, a look of disdain on his face. ‘Quite a bind we’re in,’ he said. ‘Half of it’s of our own making, which is worse in my book.’
Samson shrugged, not really sure how to reply. He still hadn’t been able to compartmentalise how he was feeling into a describable emotion.
‘I won’t claim to know the ins and outs of engineering,’ Price said, ‘but I do understand a bit about how a breakdown in discipline during an emergency can affect your chances of surviving.’
He paused for a moment, studying Samson, although Samson wasn’t sure what he was looking for.
‘Lieutenant Harper’s a good officer,’ Price said. ‘But her parents were killed on a transport that was destroyed after a cascade. Because of that, I’m not sure she’s considering the realities of our situation. Blindly following procedure does as much harm as good.’
Samson relaxed a little on hearing his own opinion repeated back to him. ‘I’m inclined to agree,’ he said. ‘But there’s not much that can be done. She’s taken command.’
Price nodded thoughtfully. ‘I can’t say I’m keen on the idea of drifting through space in the hope that someone will happen upon us. In a Core System, maybe. But here? I don’t reckon we can count on the Sidewinder’s beacon having launched in time. Nobody will save us but ourselves. This isn’t something we can leave to chance.’
‘What do you suggest, then?’ Samson said.
‘You’re the officer in command—and senior, what with you being an Academy graduate. Lieutenant Harper didn’t consult me on what she was planning. She knew I’d have stopped her, but reckoned once the deed was done I’d fall in line. She’s got that wrong. The fact is, your plan strikes me as the best one, and you are the rightful master of this vessel.’
Samson considered what Price was suggesting. There was the real chance Harper or the sailors could be killed. Or Price, his Marines, and Samson. It wasn’t at all how he had seen his first command going. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the blood of his crewmates on his hands, but he realised that his hand had been forced. No naval officer worth his salt would adopt a softly-softly approach to dealing with mutineers. It was nasty business,
