“Why does it have to be a shuttle? Tie it together with a rope and push it out,” I said.
“The real problem is how do we detonate it?” Delovoa asked.
“I thought it was super explosive.”
“It is, but not to start. It’s an ultra-complex alloy with very specific requirements to trigger it.”
“Can you make a detonation device?” Garm asked.
“Yes, if I had more time, but it’d need a very strong transmitter and power source as well as the ability to track the Boranjame ship. The problem is any large electronics will be scanned. They’ll see it and shoot it to be safe. Their range is much further than the radius of any explosion we create.”
“They can block any remote electronic signals,” Garm said. “The Navy jammed our teles with just a dreadnought, so I assume a world-ship can do more.”
I took a deep breath.
“Give me the detonator and I’ll go,” I said.
They looked at me. If they weren’t convinced I was an idiot before, they were now.
“That doesn’t make any sense. What will that provide?” Garm said dismissively.
“They can’t scan me,” I stated. “No one can. That’s why medical instruments never work even when they’re shoved up my butt and how my distant relatives managed to fight on the Ontakian home world for decades.”
The pair eyed me curiously—and maybe with a little unease thinking about the butt-thing.
“I can explode the metal however close you want me to be,” I said.
“There’s got to be some other way,” Garm argued.
Delovoa was thinking.
“If we put him in a spacesuit, fashion some irregular metal hull to store the delfiblinium, they’ll just think it’s part of the debris that Belvaille has dumped over the decades. They wouldn’t shoot it just because. That might give it more velocity than it already had and potentially make it dangerous,” he said.
“No.” Garm was adamant. “Can’t you rig some kind of smart trigger? Why does he have to go?”
“The more scannable components we put out there, the more likely it is to be destroyed. I can make a simple physical detonator, some gas canisters so he can steer it, and…a window for him to see out of,” he added quietly, realizing what he was saying.
“The question is will it be enough to destroy that ship?” I asked.
“Oh, no,” Delovoa said. “If this entire space station were made out of delfiblinium it wouldn’t be enough.”
“Then forget it,” I said.
“But it will still do damage, Hank,” he added. “And it IS a royal vessel. They aren’t going to hang around if delfiblinium starts exploding around them.” He looked to Garm for confirmation and her sad eyes seemed to agree.
“How close would I have to be?” I asked.
“Just before you collide with it would be best,” Delovoa said sagely.
I stood at the dock dressed in my insanely clunky spacesuit looking at the scrap heap that I’d ride like a missile to my doom.
“That looks safe,” I said.
It was about as big as my apartment, had odd, jutting pieces of metal to make it scan like natural debris, and it was chock-full of delfiblinium.
There were thousands of people crammed nearby to see me off. The mood was somber. Funereal. Not sure what they were all so upset about, it’s not like they were about to commit suicide.
I had been pumped full of slow-release vitamins and salts and whatever else they could think of for the long trip. Although the “ship” was sealed, there was no air inside to reduce any chance of it being scanned, and I certainly wouldn’t be able to eat or drink.
Delovoa came over with last-minute instructions.
“There are windows in it. I made marks for you to judge how fast you’re going based on the size of the world-ship. You have three jets to help you maneuver, but don’t waste them; you can only make small course corrections. When you get close, the world-ship is going to take up the whole window and you’re going to have to guess. It’s important you don’t detonate too early.”
He handed me a small device. It was a metal cylinder maybe six inches in length. It looked somewhat like the flame-tube I had purchased from him before.
“Flip the cap off and press this. That’s it,” he said.
“And you’re sure delfiblinium can’t be scanned?” I asked.
“Well, technically anything can be scanned,” he said simply.
“What? Why are you telling me this now?”
“It’s just so unlikely. It’s about the rarest substance in the galaxy. There’s no reason to ever scan for it.”