Hodak maneuvered the ship close and set a pattern that covered the sphere methodically. Brad opened the canopy, and directed the ship's beacon at the bland, gray surface. Seconds passed; the bomb's gray coating was unbroken. Or was it?
"Stop," Brad ordered.
He pointed to a barely visible circular crack half a meter across.
"Myra. Get closer. Use your attractors to stabilize and hold position. Give me a hand, Hodak."
Brad climbed over the side. The light gravity-enhancer soles of his space boots provided barely enough adherence to the warhead's surface. Sliding, he made his way to the finely marked circle, Hodak close behind.
"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."