“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 Endeavourand 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 Dulcinearemained 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.”
11
Hegron hated visiting the Tzoryp safe house’s basement. Windowless and dank, it was little more than a way station for the wounded on their way to Sto-Vo-Kor. The head of Imperial Intelligence on Qo’noS had not even seen fit to assign a fully trained surgeon to the Seudath mission, having reasoned it could make do with a field medic. Even that concession had proved to be a cruel jest, in Hegron’s opinion. The medic, Ragh, spent more time self-medicating with bloodwine than he did tending to the sick or injured.
An odor of must and urine lingered in the air. Passing the single row of empty, unmade beds draped with soiled sheets, Hegron grimaced at the squalor and tried to mitigate the stench’s effect by taking shallow breaths. He failed and winced in disgust. His bootsteps, which had snapped crisply in the pristine corridors outside his office, were muted by the patina of filth and dried blood that caked the basement’s floor.
He reached the last bed and stood at its foot. Its occupant, an Imperial Intelligence agent named Goloth, stirred. The lean, young operative opened his eyes slowly and regarded Hegron with contempt. “What do you want?”
“I’ll settle for your head.”
Goloth grinned. “She got away from you, yeah?”
“You won’t act so smug as part of a chain gang on Rura Penthe.”
The spy folded his hands behind his head. “That will never happen.”
“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused us?”
Another insolent grin. “Enlighten me.”
“You were seen leaving the Treana’s hangar just before it exploded.”
“So?”
“Do the words ‘interstellar incident’ mean anything to you? The Treanawas in Gorn military custody. Their ambassador to Qo’noS is calling your little stunt ‘an act of war.’ If the High Council can’t placate the Gorn imperator in the next forty-eight hours, a state of war will be declared.”
“ Qapla’!More glory for the Empire!”
Hegron grabbed Goloth by his collar and hefted him half out of bed. “You stupid petaQ! The last thing we need is anotherenemy in the Gonmog Sector. Bad enough we already face the Federation and the Tholians.”
Goloth seized Hegron’s hand and wrested it from his shirt with a powerful twist. He held the section chief hostage as he rasped into his ear. “Your fears are not my problem.” He released Hegron with a hard shove and crossed his arms.
“Brave talk.” Hegron smoothed his rumpled tunic. “What do you think the director will say when I tell him you led an enemy agent directly to us?”
“He’ll ask why your security forces let her in the building.”
“Really? I think he’ll ask how you let a human—a woman, no less—best you in hand-to-hand combat.”
“Spoken like a man who lives behind a desk. Never judge your foes by anything other than their actions. There is no shame in losing to a worthy adversary.” The spy’s grin returned. “Being taken hostage, on the other hand. . . .”
Hegron quaked with rage. “Don’t think you can deflect the blame for this travesty onto me, you filthy yIntagh! It was your job to steal the Orions’ sensor data and bring it back, not mine. That means you’ll pay for the consequences of your botched operation, not me.”
“What makes you think my operation was botched?”
“How else would you evaluate its outcome? You led the enemy here, she beat you unconscious, and she escaped with the Orions’ sensor data.”
Goloth’s grin tightened to a smirk. “Correction.” He uncrossed his arms with the grace of a mesmerist performing a sleight-of-hand trick. Then he produced, as if from nowhere, a gray data card in his right hand. “The human woman escaped with one copyof the Orions’ data.” He extended his arm and offered the card to Hegron.