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“Good,” said Red Abby. “Then I can panic later.”

I shrugged. “If you like.”

“I don’t get it,” she said. “We stunned that Romulan commander before he could move a muscle. Unless … someone else came in here and activated the mechanism. But that”

“Doesn’t make sense in light of my speculations?” I suggested.

Red Abby frowned. “Unless I’m missing something.”

“It’s rather simple,” I told her. “Unlike the self-destruct mechanisms one finds on Starfleet vessels, this one is not armed by a sequence of commands it’s disarmed.”

My companion looked at me, surprised. “So … this thing is set to go off all the time?”

“Exactly,” I said. “Every twenty-six hours, the commander of this vessel was required to reset the mechanism because if he failed to do so, his ship would be reduced to atoms.”

Red Abby’s nostrils flared. “That’s very interesting. But as you may have noticed, the commander of this ship is no longer aboard. So we either have to disarm the mechanism permanently, figure out the reset code, or get the hell off the ship before she blows.”

It was an accurate description of our options. “I vote for disarming the mechanism,” I told her.

“That’s fine,” she said. “I take it you’ve done this before?”

“I have not,” I confessed, turning my attention to the device again. “But faint heart and all that.”

“Faint heart?” Red Abby echoed.

“Never won fair lady,” I said, finishing the thought. I glanced at her. “Surely, you’ve heard the expression before?”

“Not until now,” she told me.

“Well, then,” I replied amicably, “this would appear to be a first for both of us.”

“A first?” Red Abby seemed wary of me suddenly.

“Yes”, I said, smiling. “For you, the first time you’ve heard the saying about faint hearts. And for me, the first time I’ve disarmed a Klingon self-destruct device.”

She seemed to drop her defenses again. “Right.”

I considered the mechanism. “You know,” I said, “I hate to leave this sort of thing unattended.”

“But?” Red Abby prompted.

“But I could use some tools. You’ll find them in whatever storage compartment you got the tricorder from.”

“Any particular kind?” she asked.

“Whatever looks useful,” I said.

“Consider it done,” Red Abby muttered.

As I analyzed the connections between the self-destruct mechanism and the surrounding circuitry, she left the room. A couple of minutes later, she returned with an armful of Romulan tools.

“One of everything,” Red Abby stated, laying the implements down in front of me.

I inspected them and chose what looked like a charge inverter. It was long and narrow, with a handle at one end and a tiny bulb at the other, much like the Federation version.

“You’re sure that’s the right thing?” she asked.

“I will be,” I said, “once I scan it with your tricorder.”

I proceeded to do just that. As luck would have it, I had chosen well. The tool was precisely what I needed.

“We’re in good shape?” Red Abby inquired.

“For the moment,” I told her.

By then, I had worked out exactly what I would have to do. As far as I could tell, the self-destruct mechanism interfaced with the circuitry in three separate places. I would need to deactivate all three interfaces without creating an energy imbalance in the circuitry because that would trigger a self-destruct command as well.

It wasn’t a complex job, but it was an exceedingly delicate one. It would require several minutes to complete, perhaps more.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” Red Abby said.

I nodded. “I will.”

Then I set to work.

Disabling the first connection took the most time and attention, largely because of my lack of familiarity with the Romulan charge inverter. Despite its appearance, the implement was significantly slower and less precise than its Starfleet counterpart.

Once I got past that hurdle, however, I felt comfortable enough to engage my companion in conversation. Nor, to be honest, was it merely a way of easing the tension. I was driven to know more about the woman who called herself Red Abby and this was my first opportunity to speak with her in