Access to the calibration cavity," Brad said as
he stooped, shed his outer glove, and felt around
the mating edge. "The bomb has to have a place to
insert fuse and trajectory data and fine tune the
initial settings. The well is closed with a plug as
thick as the armor, and it's rotated into place. The
plug's outer coating is the same composition as on
the rest of the casing. Cut a radial slot along the
edge of the cover. We'll push to rotate the cover
counter-clockwise; it'll take both of us to work it
loose."

"Why not cut out the entire plug?"

"Too much time. The shell is too thick."

Hodak grunted, withdrew a cutting tool from his
kit and after much effort formed a shallow, slanted
groove in the well cover. A heavy metal pry bar
came next. Squatting, he forced the flat end into
the notch and pushed. The energy to push forced
his body in the opposite direction.

"Closer, Myra."

At arm's length, and the ship immobilized by its
mags, Hodak braced his back against the fuselage
and tried again. He felt the bar bottom in the
notch.

Brad squatted beside Hodak and, using the fighter's
mass to steady themselves, they pushed. The pressure
scraped the plug's surface, but remain fast. They
made a fresh cut, braced themselves, and pushed,
sweat pouring from their faces. Very slowly, the
plug gave way, eventually the surface rose slightly
above the warhead's surface. More cuts, and a finger
hold. The plug rose a bit more. It seemed minutes
before their hands could grasp it firmly.

They unscrewed the plug. It drifted away.

"When Ram had our skulls crammed with all that
raw data I thought this was garbage we'd never
have to use," Brad said. "I think a lot differently
now. Myra, hold the mags tight and be ready to
break away as soon as I give you the word."

Lying on his side directly above the opening he
inserted his arm and shoulder into the well as far
as he could. Inside the cavity he located knobs
and keypads by touch. At random, Brad twirled the
knobs, pressed the keys, and opened and closed
switches. After a brief wait, he tore several wire
connections loose.

"Working in the dark like this has disadvantages,"
he grunted.

Withdrawing his arm he slipped his outer glove back
on. Hastily they climbed back aboard their fighter.

"Go! Myra. Go!"

Both craft whirled away.

"The warhead's computer assessed and integrated
my random inputs," Brad said. "The solution should
change its flight path or,