Even though he was ideally suited for this job, Lieutenant Commander Rick Eisler found himself battling worry.

He blamed it entirely on Anna's influence. Years ago, when he was a simple MACO weapons officer working black ops, he wouldn't have given the danger he was about to voluntarily place himself in a second thought. There would have been no hesitation, no fear, and no concern about whether he might make a mistake that could result in a cataclysmic explosion. Now, however, instead of focusing his attention on the task at hand, he was thinking about the most recent absurd movie Hess had insisted he watch. At times, he wished he was strong enough to push her away so he could resume his life of solitude and adherence to discipline, but her unconditional friendship and support was addictive. It wasn't until Anna started pushing him to enjoy the sillier things in life that Rick realized just how lonely he had been.

Yes, this was all her fault.

As the ARC-16 banked sharply and began maneuvering toward the target, Rick pushed those thoughts away so he could study Lieutenant Commander Sato-Reed discreetly. Though she was nearly thirty, she carried the confidence of a much older woman, and the way she studied everyone denoted a dangerously sharp intelligence. In a lot of ways, she reminded Eisler of the three female MACOs he had served with on the Red Sabre teams: quiet and unassuming on the outside, but lethally competent when the situation demanded it. There had been no one he trusted more than those women, and he had gone on record numerous times stating that he would prefer to go into a combat situation with them than with the males of the Team.

"Shutting down the main drive," Senior Chief Petty Officer Gray announced abruptly from the pilot's station. "We'll be using maneuvering thrusters the rest of the way." Rick nodded as he glanced out the viewport and studied the object they were slowly approaching.

It was surprisingly large, perhaps twenty-five to thirty meters in length and five to seven meters in diameter. Comprised of three distinct sections, it had the unmistakable appearance of a missile or torpedo, albeit with a boxy aft area that likely housed the primitive impulse drive Commander T'Pol had detected. It was also nearly pitch black, making it difficult to spot against the backdrop of space.

"That looks like a communication array on the nose," Commander Sato-Reed said, pointing to the front section of the weapon. Rick grunted, but didn't contest her assumption; she was, after all, the communications expert, not him. "How close can we get to it?" she asked, and SCPO Gray shrugged slightly.

"I don't know, ma'am." He started to apply thrust, and an alarm began chirping. "We're being interrogated," he declared, tension in his voice. Drawing in a sharp breath, Sato-Reed reached over the senior chief's shoulder and began inputting a frequency into the communications system. Gray glanced at Eisler, and Rick shook his head at the unspoken question. Suddenly, the alarm went silent.

"I wasn't sure that would work," Sato-Reed said, relief in her voice. At Rick's look, she explained. "I used the comm frequency the Romulans seem to use most of the time, and told it that we were friendly." She shrugged. "Good thing something that size can't have a very smart computer, or it'd realize my syntax was messed up."

"Good thing," Eisler agreed, privately wondering if Lieutenant Devereux would have reacted as quickly. On the heels of that, however, he realized the comparisons were unfair; Lieutenant Commander Sato-Reed had years more experience than Devereux, and had been working on cracking the Romulan language and cyphers since the war started. His admitted personal dislike for Endeavour's absent communication officer likely colored his opinion as well.

Hefting his gear, he quickly secured the pack to his EV suit before checking the grapple launcher that would be necessary. He caught Sato-Reed's quickly hidden frown as she began assembling her own equipment consisting of a personalized computer and transmitter array. Rick didn't ask why she had come aboard Endeavour carrying such a thing; after all, he rarely went anywhere without the tools of his trade either.

"Match velocity," he ordered Gray calmly while securing one end of the grapple line to the ARC's internal clamps. "And get me within a hundred meters."

"Aye, sir." There was no immediately discernible change in the assault re-entry craft's profile as the senior chief manipulated his controls, but Eisler had worked with him long enough to trust him explicitly. Forcing himself to breathe calmly, Rick keyed in the access code that opened the ARC's hatch, immediately exposing the ARC to vacuum. They had been prepared for that, and had never activated the small craft's life support systems.

"Holding steady at ninety-three meters," Gray declared, and Rick hefted the grappler gun. The laser rangefinder integrated onto the launcher painted the surface of the target, and a soft tone sounded in Eisler's ear, alerting him that it had a solid lock. He pressed the fire button, and, with a hiss that Rick knew he imagined, the launcher fired the cable. The magnetic anchor struck the outer hull of the target and attached itself.

"Endeavour, this is TAC-Six," Eisler said into his comm as he secured himself to the line. "I'm moving to the target." Without waiting for a response, he triggered the EV suit's small thruster pack and let himself be carried from the ARC.

It was a thrilling ride, though he'd die before ever admitting that to anyone. He'd read the reports of Captain Tucker's insane ship-to-ship transfer shortly after arriving on Endeavour, and had been suitably impressed as well as just a little bit jealous. The realization that only a slender strand of cable was between him and the abyss of deep space filled Rick with a giddy rush of excitement and a sensation of freedom he'd only experienced a few times in the past. HALO jumps had nothing on this.

His mag boots impacted and latched onto the target's hull all too soon. Forcing the silly smile off his face, Eisler reached for his pack to assure himself that it had made it. The radiation detector on his suit spiked slightly, causing him to study it for a moment. Exposure levels weren't lethal, but he realized that Phlox would likely schedule him for a decon visit.

"This is TAC-Six," he said into his comm. "I'm at the target." He paused to get his bearings. "Proceeding with scans." Kneeling, he placed the hand scanner against the surface.

"Receiving," Lieutenant Commander Sato-Reed's voice filtered across the comm line. A moment later, Commander T'Pol's voice echoed the lieutenant commander's statement.

"Receiving."

"Initiating data transfer," Sato-Reed declared as Rick removed the fusion torch from the bag still secured to his suit. With a flash, the torch came to life, and he began cutting into the hull of the target. "I'm hacking into the guidance system now using the remote datalink," the communications officer announced. Rick grunted in response as the visor on his EV suit auto-tinted.

Within seconds, he was barely aware of anything but the job in front of him. The outer hull of the weapon was proving to be surprisingly resilient. For a moment, he considered using a small amount of explosives to breach the hull, but he quickly discarded the idea as both foolhardy and dangerous. Minutes crept by as he worked to pierce the outer structure of the weapon, and sweat began trickling down his brow. Wincing at the sting of sweat in his eyes, he glanced up and almost smiled at how small Endeavour seemed in this moment.

"I'm in!" Sato-Reed stated triumphantly. Despite himself, Rick smirked as the fusion torch sputtered and died. It seemed almost serendipitous that they would both finish at the exact same moment. He said nothing though, as he set the torch aside and aimed the hand scanner at the hole he had carved. The scanner vibrated as it began working.

"Downloading guidance plot," Lieutenant Commander Sato-Reed continued. "Endeavour, you should be receiving it now."

"We are," Captain Tucker responded. "It's headed for Earth."

"Kuso," the communications officer suddenly whispered, her voice carrying loudly across the comm line. Rick didn't know what it meant, but it sounded like an expletive. "Trip, this thing is transmitting a Starfleet IFF code!"

"Are you sure?" Tucker's voice was grimmer than ever before, and Eisler felt his own blood run cold. An IFF transponder relayed a signal that would be interpreted as a friendly target; planetary defenses wouldn't even shoot at it. The codes were top secret, known only to those with an absolute necessity to know.

And the Romulans apparently had them.

"Captain," Rick interrupted as the results of his scan crawled across the small scanner screen. He wasn't even aware that he had violated communications protocol. "This is a fission bomb."

Dead silence answered his pronouncement.