“I’m sorry to have to pull you along on this, Pirra,” Urle said over the comm. “But you’re the only one on the ship besides the Captain that’s rated for an emergency vacuum excursion.”
“No need to apologize, sir,” Pirra replied.
Moth-Owls didn’t get bags under their eyes, but she managed to look exhausted all the same. But she’d taken a stim shot and he knew she was ready for what came.
They floated quickly and purposefully around the Hurricane. She was only 70 meters in length, but she felt much bigger right now.
His sensors told him he was at the location the sensor logs had noted.
If they had attached a device, it had to be around there . . .
He saw it. It was set into a sunken line on the ship’s hull, where it wouldn’t be easily noticed.
It was made of a dull gray metal that looked innocuous enough. But the case was big enough to hold a tracker unit or hide a sizable explosive charge.
“Here,” he said, extending his sensors cautiously. He couldn’t be sure how smart the device was, and if it would react to being scanned. He stuck to passive sensors.
Even so, a flood of information filled his vision. Ambient particles would have diffused to undetectable levels, and he focused his observations on the hull around the area.
He found residue there. Just a small amount, but it was conclusive. High-explosives.
But his sensors didn’t detect a complex computer in it, there weren’t enough electromagnetic emissions. It wasn’t smart – the opposite, it was as dumb as could be. Open-bottomed, not sealed, and the explosive had been adhered to the hull.
Utmost secrecy, he thought. The dumber it was, the less evidence there would be, both prior to planting and after detonation.
“Traces of a high-explosive,” Pirra said. “An unstable compound. It will go off once it decays enough.”
“I think so,” Urle said. “So we’re on a time table. Can’t be sure how soon, but it won’t be more than a few hours.”
“Unstable compounds are also used to help hide evidence,” she noted. “It might decay before an investigation could find it. Point being – there might be other things that can set it off. We can’t assume it’s just relying on decay.”
“Understood,” he said. “Captain, I recommend evacuating the ship. Chance of a decompression are significant – we have an explosive here.”
“In-progress,” Brooks replied. “But we can’t risk moving Cenz yet.”
“Do you think you can remove it?” Pirra asked.
“I’m not sure,” he replied. “Do you have any expertise in this?”
“I have training in bomb removal or disposal, but on the stims I’ve got shaking hands.” She made a sound of exasperation. “Who uses dumb bombs anymore? This is like something from an old war.”
“Yeah,” Urle said. “And I think meant to look like the ship just suffered an accident when it went off.”
Pirra studied it for a moment, looking along the ship. “I agree. But it’s not important right now. Do you want me to take over?”
“No,” Urle said. He put his hands over the case lightly. “I’m better equipped.”
His suit did not cover his hands – they were both mechanical. They normally had a tactile sense better than normal flesh could ever manage, but he’d had to turn that off due to the numbing cold of space.
The tips of his fingers opened, and tiny extendible limbs came out, moving around the edges.
“It was attached expertly. Fused to the hull – we’ll have to cut it away,” he noted.
“If they were skilled enough to pull that other trick, then I think they’ll have anti-tamper sensors inside the case,” Pirra noted. “Try cutting off a corner, even in elite circles they don’t often extend the sensors that far.”
“Often,” Urle said. A bead of sweat broke free from his face as he spoke, the perfect sphere floating loose in his mask. He ignored it.
Any wrong move and they’d both die. His children would probably die. The Captain, Pirra’s husband – everyone with them. Cenz, if he’d had a chance of recovery, it would be stolen from him.
He fought down his nerves.
He knew he could do this.
Drilling into the case carefully, he made a tiny hole and inserted a sensor. It was so miniscule as to be nearly invisible to a standard human eye.
“Don’t let it touch anything,” Pirra said. “Can’t be sure which parts are sensors.”
“Understood.”
He could see a grainy image through his tiny sensor. Scanning the interior with the barest of touches, he could make out a charge – the unstable explosive. There was enough to blast a substantial hole in the ship, shaped in a way that would make it look enough like a standard outblowing that it could go unnoticed. Certainly the Governor’s people would never be able to tell.
Hell, they probably planted it.
That idea bothered him on many levels, but he didn’t stop to dwell on them now. There was a component he couldn’t identify yet.
A timer!
Damn it. They hadn’t left anything to chance; they likely expected a very specific time frame here, and decay bombs could vary by nearly a hundred minutes each way. He carefully extended in another probe, but it was all he could fit through the drill hole. The sides seemed rigged, and it was a miracle he hadn’t set it off already . . .
His new probe connected to the timer carefully, picking up its ambient charges. In moments it pieced together a decent view of what was occurring inside.
“We have less than one minute,” he said. His breathing sounded overwhelming in his ears.
Pirra’s voice stayed calm, collected, and he found himself marvelling at her.
“Captain, you get that? Expedite the evacuation.”
“Understood,” Brooks replied.
All Urle could hear was his own heart pounding in his ears. “I can connect to it,” he said. “Going to attempt to reset its timer. Buy us some time.”
“No way to just sever the connection?” Pirra asked. “Turn it off?”
“It’s got anti-tamper sensors, basic passive things, all over the place. I’m going to need more time to deactivate them.”
The words came out but his mind was focused on this.
Forty-five seconds.
He connected to the timer, and found that his number was correct. But still ticking down.
There was no intelligence in this, but any extra charge he put in to give a command might set it off. He couldn’t go that route.
Thirty seconds.
If he disabled the sensor, he could do whatever he wanted with the rest of it. He just had to get the one. He even knew the kind; he’d used them before. Top of the line, incredibly resilient against tamper. Simple as all hell. Tough to trick but not impossible.
Fifteen seconds.
He had to go for it. He needed a different tool, but there was no chance he’d get it in position in time. Using his second probe, he slipped it up against the sensor gently. Had to be careful . . .
Ten seconds.
“Run,” he grit out to Pirra.
“No time,” she replied.
He attempted to send in a jolt to overload it – just enough to disable it and stop its own sensing. There was a sweet spot in there that he knew from experience would burn it out.
It tripped. He’d sent in too much.
He let out a gasp and jerked back.
The bomb didn’t explode.
He opened his eyes to see that he was still looking at the ship itself, and the ugly brick of a bomb that had nearly killed them all.
“Sir? Sir?” Pirra said. “You shut it off!”
“No,” Urle answered her, a bitter taste in his mouth. “I didn’t. We just got lucky.”
Other Terrestrial 