String Theory_ Fusion (Book 2) - Kirsten Beyer [15]
Power reserves were holding steady, and his course seemed to be leading him toward a series of what could be docking bays, when the shuttle’s alarm klaxon began to wail.
Despite his rigorous efforts, Tuvok had misjudged his course. Sensors indicated that he had stumbled upon the edge of the singularity’s event horizon, but that seemed impossible. Every calculation dictated that the event horizon should exist within the magnetic fields that bordered the interior of the station’s rings. Otherwise the rings should logically have been crushed by the gravity of the singularity. As he was still several hundred kilometers from the outer edge of the rings, he should have been at a safe distance. Nonetheless, the abrupt change in the gravitational pull on the shuttle told Tuvok in no uncertain terms that within moments, he would pass through the singularity’s outermost fringe, exposing himself to the mercy of its inexorable pull.
His first instinct was to increase the shuttle’s impulse engines to maximum and alter course in a straight line away from the station. It was a tug-of-war he was almost certain to lose, but the only logical option in the moment.
“Warning, shields at fifty percent,” the computer called. A second later, “Warning, shields at thirty percent.”
The engines protested loudly as every ounce of power at the shuttle’s disposal was engaged in tearing it free of the singularity’s intense pull.
Moments later, his shields were gone. Tuvok tried to route all remaining power to structural integrity, even as consoles began exploding all around him.
In the midst of the chaos, the barrier Tuvok had erected between his mind and the music shattered like glass. For the first time, the feelings were more overwhelming than the sounds. The aching need Tuvok had associated with a single powerful being came rushing forth in a wave of intensity that made him feel as if he had just entered into a mind-meld with a thousand people at the same time.
A few seconds more… and he would lose control of more than his shuttle.
The last thing Tuvok heard distinctly through the chaos of sound and light that now enveloped him was the final word of the transmission that the computer had managed to translate before it automatically rerouted all power to inertial dampers, structural integrity, and life-support.
“Gremadia.”
“Computer,” he choked.
There was no response. The main console erupted in a brilliant flash of light, and Tuvok released himself to the blackness and knew no more.
It wasn’t that Harry hadn’t heard Tom calling over the comm system. Voyager’s ops officer was a notoriously light sleeper who had endured no end of ribbing for his nightly use of an eye mask to ensure the darkest darkness possible when he slept. He had, in fact, started awake at the sound of his name. He just hadn’t been particularly inclined to answer. He knew Tom. Whatever he wanted could certainly wait until they were on duty, and if it couldn’t, surely the next voice he’d hear would be Chakotay’s or the captain’s.
“Paris to Kim.”
Harry loved Tom like the older brother he’d never had, but sometimes the guy just couldn’t take a hint.
Confirmation of that thought arrived a few seconds later when a loud pounding on his door began to reverberate through his cabin.
“Come on, Harry, I know you’re in there!” Tom called.
Harry managed to muffle the curses that escaped his lips when his shin impacted something quite heavy, possibly a chair or table leg, en route to answer his door.
“Is the ship in danger?” Harry asked groggily when the doors slid open, a slight spark of indignation lighting in his stomach as Tom’s eyes managed to silently mock the pajamas he was wearing, navy flannel plaid that had been a gift from his mother, and, of course, the eye mask hanging around his neck.
“Of course not,” Tom answered cheerily. “Although we are at yellow alert, and that’s never a great sign.”
Harry perked up momentarily