Last Full Measure - Michael A. Martin [86]
“I need a sit rep, Corporal,” Chang said to McCammon, as he and Mayweather reached the cockpit almost simultaneously.
McCammon, still clad in his helmetless, dust-caked gray environmental suit, rose from the copilot’s seat; he snapped to attention as he delivered the requested situation report. “Shuttlepod Two is ready to drop tethers and depart, once everyone is back aboard. Guitierrez and Eby are still at Target Baker, inspecting the demolition devices and the control mechanism.”
I hope they aren’t running into any problems out there, Mayweather thought. It made him nervous to think that people were still crawling around on one of the Xindi fuel tanks, which still might turn out to be defended by other, not-yet-discovered booby traps, or even by Xindi soldiers; they still had no absolute proof, after all, that this facility was entirely automated and unmanned.
“Let’s check in on Baker,” Chang said, propping his phase rifle against the bulkhead in order to lean over the com console and open a channel to his off-ship teammates. “Chang to Target Baker Squad. How soon can you get back here so we can blow this place?”
Static sizzled the air of the cockpit as Guitierrez responded. “—oon, I think, Corporal. We just finished reprogramming the remote—etonation sequence, to make sure the bombs don’t—uddenly go into countdown-to-detonation mode again.”
“Well done, Guitierrez,” Chang said. “I want you and Eby to double-time it back here as soon as you can.”
Before something else goes wrong, Mayweather thought, imagining that Chang was thinking the very same thing.
“Acknowledged,” Guitierrez said, speaking around yet another blast of interference. “But this place is stil—generating a lot of com—nterference. I’d like to test the remote-detonat—system from the—uttlepod before we come ba—aboard.”
Chang nodded toward McCammon. “Makes sense to me. Tie into Guitierrez’s control signal.”
McCammon’s first attempt to patch into the remote-detonation padd Guitierrez carried failed completely. He succeeded in latching on to a carrier signal on the second attempt, but Mayweather could see that the data that was coming across the console was merely heavily garbled nonsense.
“Something inside that facility is still doing its damnedest to interfere with our com signals,” Mayweather said as he took the pilot’s seat and began working the com console with quick, economical motions born of long familiarity. A heavy-gravity feeling of apprehension was beginning to settle deep inside his belly as he imagined yet again the real live Xindi who might be lurking nearby, preparing to spring some new surprise on the team. He tried to put the thought out of his mind, since no Xindi ships or troops had come along to molest them as yet.
The com display screen on the console turned momentarily blizzard white, awash with static before settling down a few moments later to display Corporal Guitierrez’s detonation-control interface; Mayweather knew he was seeing the very same readout display that now appeared on Guitierrez’s handheld control padd. He could also see that she had set and locked the detonation interface into its “test” mode.
He keyed open Guitierrez’s com channel. “Mayweather to Guitierrez. I’m going to try to take control of the detonation cycle from my console.”
“Acknowledged,” came her brisk reply, crackling and hissing through the cockpit speakers. He wondered again why there was still so much com interference, even after the depot’s main defenses had apparently been disabled.
Mayweather cautiously entered the “initiate countdown” command, though he felt confident that nothing could go seriously amiss now that the system