"Populated?" Shelby spoke up, unable to keep the astonishment from her voice. "Sir, perhaps a technological target might be preferable? Some area of high energy discharge, indicating a power plant or—"
"Power plants can be rebuilt," Calhoun said reasonably. "People can't. Mr. Boyajian, have you got those targets locked in yet?"
"Yes, sir." Boyajian didn't sound happy about it.
"Projected casualty count from both torpedoes?" Boyajian felt his mouth go very dry. He licked his lips, checked the estimates, and then said, "Ap . . ." His throat also felt like dust. "Approximately five . . . hundred thousand, sir."
All eyes were now on Calhoun. From her science station, Soleta's face was stoic and unreadable. At conn, Mark McHenry actually looked amused, as if he was certain that Calhoun would not do what he was preparing to do. Only Robin Lefler at ops was allowing her concern to show. She was biting her lower lip, a nervous habit that she'd been trying to break herself of for ten years. She wasn't having much success, and moments like this weren't making it easier on her.
And Shelby . . .
. . . Shelby was looking at him, not with anger, as he would have guessed, but with a vague sort of disappointment.
All of this, Calhoun took in in a second or two. "Half a million. Impressive. Mr. McHenry, how long until we're in range?" he asked.
"At present orbital speed, one minute, three seconds," said McHenry, without, Calhoun noticed, checking his navigation board. Below them the blue/gray sphere that was Nelkar turned beneath them as they circled it.
"And once we've fired the torpedoes, how long until they reach primary targets?"
"Forty-seven seconds."
He nodded and then said to Boyajian, "Engage safety locks on the torpedoes, Mr. Boyajian. Fortyfour-second cut-off."
"Engaging safety locks, aye, sir."
On the screen, Laheera watched the activity on the bridge without fully understanding what was going on. "Captain, what are you playing at? May I remind you we have the fate of the hostages to consider."
"There's no need. What you don't understand is that I am determining their fate. Not you. Me. And I'm determining your fate as well. Your earlier point is well taken. There's no need for me to stand around waiting for you to murder the hostages. For that matter, you've already killed one: Captain Hufmin. For that alone, you should consider this your punishment. A pity that others have to die with you, but those are the fortunes of war." And with what seemed virtually no hesitation on his part, he turned back to Boyajian and said crisply, "Fire photon torpedoes, and then give me a countdown."
For the briefest of moments, Boyajian paused, and then in a firm voice, he replied, "Aye, sir." He punched a control and two photon torpedoes leaped from the underbelly of the Excaliburand hurtled downward toward the unprotected city. "Torpedoes away," he said. "Forty-seven . . . forty-six . . . fortyfive . . ."
It sounded as if Laheera's voice had just gone up an octave. Boretskee and the small girl were looking around in confusion, not entirely grasping what had just occurred. "What have you done?!" demanded Laheera.
"I have just fired two photon torpedoes. They'll be slowed down a bit as they pass through your atmosphere, but they'll still have sufficient firepower to level whatever they hit."
". . . thirty-seven . . . thirty-six . . ." Boyajian was intoning.
"You'll kill them! You'll kill her!" and Laheera shook the young girl, who let out a squeal of alarm. "You wouldn't!"
"Yes, I would."
"They're blanks! You're bluffing!"
". . . thirty . . . twenty-nine . . ." came the steady count from Boyajian.
"They're running hot, I assure you," he said with quiet conviction. "But they're armed with safety locks. I can abort them during the first forty seconds. In the last seven seconds, however, nothing can turn them back. Agree to release the hostages, or within the next . . ."
". . . twenty . . ." supplied Boyajian.
"Thank you, twenty seconds . . . you're dead. You, and about half a million Nelkarites. Gone, in one shot, because of the threats and strong-arming of you and Governor Celter for shortcuts. Decide now, Laheera."
For a moment she seemed to waver, and then she drew herself up and said firmly, "You are bluffing. I can smell it from here. Do your worst."
Calhoun's face was utterly inscrutable. "You're gambling half a million lives, including yours, on your sense of smell."
"Mine? No. No, I'm broadcasting from a deep enough shelter that I'll be safe. As for the rest, well . . . as I said, I'm positive you're bluffing. I'll stake their lives on my instincts any day."
"If you care about your people, reconsider."
"No."
There was dead silence on the bridge, and through it reverberated Boyajian's voice as he began the final countdown. "Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . ."
An infinity of thoughts tumbled through Shelby's mind. This was the time. This was the time to do it. For she knew now something that was previously unclear to her. Mackenzie Calhoun had spent his formative years as—simply put—a terrorist. It was easy to overlook that, because one tended to give him more flattering, even romantic labels such as "rebel leader" or "freedom fighter." But at core, he was indeed a terrorist, and he had fallen back on terrorist tactics. Proper procedures meant nothing to him. Life itself meant nothing to him. All that mattered was pounding his opponents until they could no longer resist.
". . . seven . . ."
Now,her mind screamed, now! Take command, declare Calhoun unfit, and order Boyajian to abort! It's not mutiny! No one on this bridge wants to see this travesty happen! They're looking to me to take charge!
. . .six . . . " On the screen was Laheera, arms folded, smug, confident. The stunned, shocked faces of Boretskee and the young girl were evident.
". . . five . . ."
On the bridge was Calhoun, arms behind his back, staring levelly at the screen, and then, for no apparent reason, his gaze flickered to Shelby. Her eyes locked with Calhoun's, seemed to bore directly into the back of his brain.
Boyajian's lips began to form the letter "f" for four. . . .
"Abort," said Calhoun.
Boyajian's finger, which had been poised a microcentimeter above the control panel, stabbed down, the reflex so quick that he didn't even have time to register a sense of relief.
Several thousand feet above Selinium, two photon torpedoes—which normally would have exploded on impact—received a detonation command. They blew up prematurely, creating a spectacular flash of light and rolling of sound in the blue skies overhead. The people of Selinium—who had no idea that a pair of torpedoes had been winging their way—looked up in confusion and fear. No one had a ready explanation for what had just happened. A number of people had to be treated for flash-blindness, having had the misfortune to be looking directly into the explosion when it occurred. Many others had a ringing in the ears from the noise. Even as the echo of the detonation died away, Nelkarites turned to one another for answers and found none.
But an explanation was not long in coming. For Governor Celter immediately went on citywide comm channels and, with that famed, calming presence of his, seemed to be looking into the hearts of anyone who watched as he announced, "No doubt most, if not all, of you were witness to the explosion overhead. I am pleased to announce that we have been testing a new weapons system which will—I assure you—give us a new, more secure Nelkar than ever before. This was, however, a secret test, as such things often are, and we were not able to announce the test beforehand. On that basis, I hope you will forgive us any concern that might have been caused on your part. We are, after all, working for a common goaclass="underline" the best, safest Nelkar possible. No need to concern yourselves, and you can all go on about your business. Thank you for your attention."