Well, it seemed that a little mystery in her plan was unwanted. Stepping forward to the table, she gently placed her satchel upon it. [color=fff200][i][b]"The reason there have been no more explosions isn't because the terrorists have been caught. But because this is my last baby."[/b][/i][/color] Trish pulled down the sides of the satchel, to reveal the rugby ball sized device. Anyone with a bit of technical expertise could see that the two ends were powerful electromagnets, to suspend the explosive crystal within. Between the two ends, was a series of lumps, the ball bearings she'd fitted to it. Fitted right in the middle was a single, tiny winch, like one might find on a space suit's belt, with a thin metallic wire.

Pulling the satchel sides back up and returning it over her shoulder, [color=fff200][i][b]"I've located a trash chute that runs right past the life support systems. From B6, I can lower this down roughly ten meters. The wall between the systems and the chute is non-reinforced aluminum alloy. My baby here will tear right through it, and cripple the station for a good, long while. It is remote detonated, and can be set off from just about anywhere on the ship. I've not yet been scanned, but if I am, it won't be pretty, which is why I asked Angel along." [/b][/i][/color]

She was getting antsy now. She wanted this plan in motion, and off this bloody station. Trish just wanted a room to play around with a few ideas she had for new devices. That always relaxed her. Maybe a nice sandwich as well. That would be good. 

[color=fff200][b][i]"You can call me Trish."[/i][/b][/color]