Excelsior by Jasper T. Scott Page A

the perfect moment for the bomber to trigger his device, but if he was smart, he’d already recognized his bomb sitting in the airlock. By now he’d have realized that they were actually gathered here to mourn the loss of a rigged food crate. The saboteur would know that detonating his bomb would actually kill the entire crew—himself included—if he was smart.
     
    Alexander was counting on that. As soon as the chaplain finished reading, Alexander stepped up to makeshift podium, saying, “Thank you, Chaplain. Now I’d like to share a few of my own words of comfort.”
     
    The chaplain looked bemused, but he nodded and stepped down.
     
    Alexander surveyed his crew, studying each of their faces in turn. The ship’s MAs were scattered around, guarding the entrances and exits, just in case the saboteur tried to make a run for it.
     
    “Ladies and gentlemen, as far as I’m concerned we already mourned our losses. I’ve actually brought you all here for another reason.” Puzzlement flickered across countless faces. Alexander smiled grimly and went on, “Less than an hour ago a bomb was discovered in the ship’s food supply.” People gasped. Faces paled. Crew traded looks of shock and betrayal. “Yes, I know—unconscionable. But don’t worry, our food supply is safe. We’ve relocated the bomb to the amidships cargo airlock.”
     
    It took a moment for that to sink in, and then all eyes turned to the airlock they were standing next to. People began backing away. Murmurs of discontent filled the air.
     
    Alexander made a settle down gesture with his hands. “There’s no need to be alarmed! We brought the bomb here because one of you planted it, and we need that same person to step forward now that so we can disable it without any loss of life.”
     
    “You brought a bomb here?” Max Carter demanded, pointing an accusing finger at Alexander. “Are you out of your mind?”
     
    “Yes, I am, Max. Now, unless you have something to confess to, please keep quiet so the bomber can speak up.”
     
    The ambassador’s eyes flashed. “Let us out of here right now, Captain!”
     
    “Can’t do that, sorry.”
     
    Commander Korbin spoke up next. “What are you waiting for? Just blow it out the airlock!”
     
    “We could, but then we’d never find out who our bomber is, and he or she might just find a deadlier way to sabotage this ship at some later date.”
     
    “He could also blow all of us up, right here and now!” Korbin insisted.
     
    “True, but if that was the bomber’s intention, then the bomb should have been planted on Red Deck with the ship’s munitions, or next to the fusion reactor. Since this bomb was planted with the ship’s food stores, we believe the intention was to make us turn around, not to destroy the ship or cause any harm to its crew.”
     
    “You’re willing to stake all of our lives on that?” Max demanded.
     
    “Yes, I am. In fact, I’ll bet that whoever planted this bomb will rather confess than allow it to go off and kill us all.”
     
    “That’s a court-martial and a summary execution,” Korbin said. “Where’s the incentive to confess?”
     
    “Good point, Commander. Tell you what, I promise I won’t execute the saboteur,” Alexander said, placing a hand over his chest and another one in the air, as if he were about to give sworn testimony. “I’ll also make sure that they never see a court-martial. How’s that? Now, whoever you are, you can save your crew and your own filthy skin while you’re at it. Any takers?” Alexander searched the room, but no one spoke up. Everyone was busy looking at one another accusingly. Promised leniency notwithstanding, the saboteur was still better off to disown his handiwork and keep his lips zipped.
     
    Time to up the ante.
     
    “All right. Let’s do something,” Alexander said, stepping down from the podium and striding toward the airlock. He snapped his fingers at the nearest MA. “You, Ramos, open the