Star Trek: Bendross
Episode 11: Houston, We have a Problem
(Fall, 2072)
By
And
The Bendross Players
"Orbit City control I need an open line to the surface, specifically a phone connection." Hamilton said.
"What do you need it for, Pod One Fiver?" The voice of Orbit City Control was edgy with repressed frustration and fear.
"I know someone down on the surface who might just be happy enough with me to upload hacker software on an open line." Hamilton said.
"Hacker-!? Pod One Fiver, I repeat, I want you to leave that Bomb alone until Security gets there." Control sounded very tense.
"And how long until security gets here?" Hamilton asked with an insincerely sweet tone.
A long pause. "They are entering the air lock now." The lie was transparent.
"Control, you just heard Pod Seven state that we really don't know how long we have to disarm this thing. Do you want to wait?" Hamilton said earnestly.
"I don't want my epitaph to be 'What's this wire do', Pod One Fiver. Wait until professionals get there."
"Control, Pod Seven is a former Space Marine! Planting and disarming these was his job! He *is* a professional!" Hamilton said.
"He is. But you're the one asking for the software, One Fiver." Control replied quickly.
"Pod Seven to control, In my professional opinion, you need to give One Fiver his line." Kerenski said placidly. "He seems to have the best idea about what he's doing."
Another pause. It stretched out for a while.
"Pod One Five, this is Ranscombe," Hamilton recognized the voice of the man who supervised all of the Bendross Corporation's operation on orbit, including the construction of the Bendross III "Tell me honestly. Can you hack that bomb?"
Hamilton’s fighter pilot ego came to the fore. "Yes, Sir. I can take it down." He said it with perfect confidence.
There was another pause.
Control came back on line with even more stress in her voice "Pod One Fiver, what's that number you want me to call?"
Hamilton relayed the number and everyone on the channel was treated to an eternity of telephone rings as the line rang through.
Finally a female voice answered. "Hello?"
"Houston! It's me Lowell. Listen I am in a jam and I could use your help."
"You're fuckin' a' right you're in a jam! There have been MIBs and agents all over the scene since you left and it's all about you, buddy boy. You better have a good reason for calling me on an open line." The woman said quickly.
"I'm lookin' at nuke right in front of me and I want to hack the control computer, but I don't have any software to do it with." Hamilton explained.
"You're what?" Houston sounded like she could not believe her ears.
"Listen, Houston, baby, I'd love to explain it to you, put the programmable display says I have about twenty minutes to live right now, so I am pressed for time."
"What the unholy hell are you doing with a nuclear bomb, Lowell?" Houston sounded dangerous.
"Someone is trying to interfere with a little job I'm on, right now, baby. I think it might be the Luddites."
"You know no one's seen Mark for at least ninety days. What ever you're up to did it suck Mark down? 'Cause I don't want to join him, wherever he is." Houston said.
"Great Googely Moo." Hamilton said, digesting "You knew it was an open line before you picked up. You men to tell me you don't have safe guards in place?"
Houston sighed. "What do you need?"
"Nothing too complex. A Killer, Poison Flatline, a Krash, and a pass word hacker."
"What system are you going to run it on?" Houston asked.
"Uh, a generic utility system."
"You'll forgive me if I turn off my machines and stay inside for twenty-five minutes after you hang up."
"I won't take it personally." Hamilton said.
"You want me to just throw these programs on the open line."
"Yes. Houston, I am running out of time, here."
"Okay, Here it comes. Don't look for me when you get back. I won't be here."
"Keep your head down baby. Maybe I'll catch up to you someday." Hamilton lied.
"Not If I see you first." The sound cut out and a graphic appeared describing how much of the programs had been uploaded.
Hamilton was shocked at how slow the upload was, although it only took a few seconds. Hamilton was used to computing at the speed of thought and faster.
Eventually a few seconds passed and the work pod was now equipped as very basic and very slow hacker's deck. Hamilton said "I am going to access the bomb now."
He moved the work pod up to the nuclear limpet mine attached to the Bendross III. The detail outside his large bubble canopy was extra sharp and clear in the way of vacuum. Hamilton found himself realizing wryly that he'd always wondered what sex was like in zero g, but never about hacking. In the virtual reality of cyberspace, there was no gravity anyway. Not that cyberspace was going to play a roll here.
Hamilton activated the delicate work arm and moved a narrow drill bit over the plastic plug covering the data port. Hamilton caused the drill to move a very short distance into the plug and then back out, taking the plastic plug out with it.
Then Hamilton lined up the data plug and slid it into the port. The data plug was to allow the Work pod to communicate with and diagnose satellites and equipment that might need repair on orbit. If fit into the bomb nicely, A standard communications link. The irony struck Hamilton. A device of ruthless, some would say insane, terror and it to was equipped and partially designed to communicate with outside world. Hamilton figured that it said something about human nature to build a bomb with a mouth and then try to gag it. With ears and then try to plug them up.
The computer screen showed a demand for a password and Hamilton activated the pass word cracker and was horrified at how long it took to load up. Then the bomb and the pod thought about this very carefully.
Hamilton became nervous. He was pretty sure that the pod and the bomb had somehow locked up. It couldn't possible be taking this long.
Long sweaty minutes later the pass word cracker worked and the bomb welcomed him in. Hamilton launched the other programs in sequence. It was like a ballet or tai Chi or some other long slow dance where the object was to do everything right, but very slowly.
Long, agonizing minutes later, Hamilton's pod beeped with irritation as the computer it was linked to crashed. The countdown screen went dark.
The Pod automatically ran a diagnostic and discovered that the computer tied into had been fried by an overload. It recommended complete replacement.
"I believe the Bomb is deactivated." Hamilton said.
He was deafened by cheers from the comm system as everyone at orbit City realized that they were going to live.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Trek. I claim original characters and situations in this story for me.