Quinn’s voice echoed from the PA system inside the Dulcinea’s cargo hold. “Ask and ye shall receive: I’ve got the Endeavour on the secure channel.”
Bridy stepped to a nearby comm panel and thumbed the reply button. “Patch it down here, would you?” Because her security clearance was several levels higher than Quinn’s, her superiors at SI insisted she exclude him from classified briefings. She took Quinn at his word when he promised not to eavesdrop on her.
“You’re on, and I’m out.”
There was a soft click as Quinn left the channel, followed immediately by a woman’s voice. “Commander McLellan, this is Captain Khatami.”
“Go ahead, Captain.”
“There’s some pretty angry chatter coming out of Seudath on the Klingons’ diplomatic frequency. What the hell happened down there?”
“Nothing major.” Bridy looked away sheepishly. “No fatalities, anyway.”
“We usually set the bar for success a bit higher than that, Commander.”
“I have to play the ball as it lies, sir.”
Khatami sighed. “Did you get the Orions’ sensor logs?”
“Yes, sir, but we haven’t had a chance to review them yet.”
“What’s the delay?”
“The Klingons got to the data first, and they’re using a new encryption protocol. Quinn’s working on cracking it, but it might take a while.”
Bridy made no attempt to mask her annoyance. “Why? Because of his security clearance?”
“It’s a concern, yes.”
“That’s absurd. Do you have any idea how many times he’s put his life on the line for us? We need to start trusting him.”
There was a short pause before Khatami said, “We’ll take that under advisement. For now, however, operational security is our first priority.”
“If you’re that worried, feel free to come pick up the data card and crack its code yourselves.”
“We would if we could, but we’re a bit busy at the moment.” The captain softened her tone. “I know you two are more than professionally linked, so I’ll take your word for it and cut him some slack, especially since we need you to follow up on this once you break the code. Which brings me to my next bit of news: Before you left the Endeavour a few days ago, we hid a package for you in the cargo bay.”
Looking around at the stacks of cargo containers, Bridy asked, “Where?”
“Against the aft bulkhead, behind the gray cases.”
She walked over to the stack of containers and looked behind them. Tucked into the corner behind them was a small gray backpack. “I see it. What is it?”
“A compact ordnance package. It’s experimental, very high yield.”
“You mean a bomb.” She returned to the comm panel. “What’s it for?”
“If you find the source of the phenomenon the Orions detected, and it turns out to be what we think it is, we can’t let it fall into Klingon hands. That package is our insurance policy, and we’re counting on you to use it if necessary.”
She cast a nervous look in the package’s direction. “What’s the yield?”
“At least five megatons, but SI won’t give us precise figures.”
“Please tell me its detonator has a timer, at least.”
“Of course it does. The instructions are inside the pack with the device.” Khatami’s tenor turned grave. “One more thing, Commander.”
“I know what you’re going to say: Quinn and I are expendable.” She heaved a bitter sigh. “Not exactly news, Captain.”
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Do I need to keep Quinn in the dark about this, too?”
“No. If something happens to you, he’ll need to trigger the device.”
“Oh, he’s gonna love that.”
“We aim to please. As I said, this is just a contingency plan.”
“Right. Like seppuku is a contingency plan.”
“Desperate times, Commander. As soon as we can join you, we will. Until then, keep us apprised of your progress and coordinates.”
“Acknowledged.”
“Endeavour out.”
The subspace channel went silent, and Bridy turned off the comm. She looked over her shoulder toward the bomb. They have got to be kidding me.
Quinn stood next to Bridy in the Dulcinea’s cargo bay and stared at the bomb. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I wish I was. The good news is that it’s just a backup plan.”
He folded his arms. “No, hiding a knife in your boot is a backup plan. This is a suicide plan dressed up as a scorched-earth policy.” He shook his head in disgust. “I don’t know what pisses me off more—the fact that Starfleet hid a bomb on my ship or that they think I’m crazy enough to blow myself up with it.”
“Would this be a bad time to ask how you’re doing with the code-breaking?”
“A few more hours,” Quinn said. He left the cargo hold through the forward hatch, and Bridy followed him on the short walk through the main cabin and back to the cockpit. “It’d go a lot faster if we had some of those big Starfleet computer cores. You sure we can’t just send this to Endeavour and be done with it?”
“We can’t risk transmitting it, not even on a coded channel.”
“Pain in my ass.” Quinn flopped into his pilot’s seat, which still felt too new and firm for his liking. Despite having seized the ship months earlier, he still hadn’t become comfortable with its small quirks. His last vessel, the Rocinante, had been a beat-up clattertrap of a starship, nowhere near as advanced as the Dulcinea, but it also had been his home for more than a decade, and he missed it. A quick look at the helm console confirmed that the Dulcinea remained on course at warp five, cruising through the unclaimed space of the Taurus Reach toward the ill-fated Orion merchantman’s last-known coordinates.
Bridy settled into the copilot’s chair beside his and checked the progress of their brute-force code-breaking program. She made a small frown, apparently less than satisfied with their progress. “I have to give the Klingons credit,” she said. “A storage card that encrypts data as it’s written is damned clever. SI should use this.”
“After we finish hacking it, let’s ‘invent’ it and sell it to Starfleet,” Quinn said. “I mean, what’re the Klingons gonna do? Sue us for patent infringement?”
His brilliant idea was rewarded with a dubious glare from Bridy. “One crazy scheme at a time, dear. One at a time.”