Synthesis - James Swallow [83]
The impacts were good, and at such close range, she had the dubious pleasure of seeing the strike points blacken and char. Flecks of strange material that could have been organic, could have been metallic, gushed out into the blackness. Flares of exotic radiation coruscated around the mass, and it veered away. Tuvok was already putting power to the impulse grid, and the shuttle reversed direction, streaking down and to starboard in time to avoid the passing swing of a blunt-ended tendril.
“It’s still coming,” said Sethe. “I think we annoyed it.”
Pava’s azure face twisted in a grimace. “That much power, that close a range… any vessel should have been opened to vacuum.”
“What makes you think those things are ships?” said Sethe grimly.
“The analysis can be addressed at a later juncture,” Tuvok snapped. “Ensign, status of the tanker?”
The Cardassian glanced at his screen. “They’re out of the wreckage. I’m reading a shear effect…” He blew out a breath. “Tanker is away.”
From the corner of her eye, Pava saw the sunbow flash of the ship’s escape. “Our turn now?” she asked.
“Indeed,” Tuvok responded. “Divert power to engines and deflectors.”
“On it, sir,” called Sethe.
Dakal’s shout ran over the Cygnian’s words. “Proximity alert!”
The commander spun the Holiday into an evading move by reflex, but it wasn’t swift enough to avoid the sudden wall of strange matter that loomed large through the canopy, blocking out the stars. Pava couldn’t be certain if it was the same piece of the Null that had tried to swat the tanker or some other fragment; the shape of it had changed, becoming a writhing fan of spindly talons. It clawed toward the shuttle, leaving hazy trails of radiation in the darkness.
She felt the impact through the bones of her spine as the resonance echoed up through the Holiday’s deck plates and through her acceleration chair. Puffs of white smoke belched from the rear compartment, and every screen and panel in the cockpit flickered. Power dipped sharply, and she saw the energy levels of the deflector grid fall to almost nothing. Outside, the view of the debris-clogged orbital space spun around, the shuttle’s nose flashing past the smoldering wreck of the refinery, the white ocean of ice across the planet below, the distant suns, the sullen and watchful bronze moon.
Something familiar in design tumbled past the cockpit, trailing fumes. It was one of the Holiday’s nacelles. Dimly, she was aware of a thin shrieking from somewhere behind her.
“Hull breach!” shouted Sethe. “I’m reading critical failures in all subsystems!”
“It hit us,” Dakal said. “Swatted at us like we were a spine-hornet…”
Tuvok’s console went dark and vomited a shower of bright sparks. The Vulcan threw up his arms to shield his face, and the shuttle bucked again. Pava pushed off from her seat and realized that the internal gravity had failed. As she reached the commander’s side, the white landscape of the ice world rose once more to fill the forward screen—and this time, it began to inch closer.
The Vulcan waved her away. “Main power is off-line. Thrusters are inoperative. We are entering an uncontrolled descent.”
Sethe had already secured his helmet, and Dakal was in the process of doing the same. Pava coughed; the air was thinning, and what little was left was filling with the acrid smoke from burned electronics.
Tuvok pulled Pava’s helmet from the magnetomic adhesion pad on her belt and thrust it into her hands before gathering up his own headgear. “Quickly. It’s coming back.”
Pava locked the helmet tight to her environment suit’s neck ring. “We won’t survive another hit like that.”
“Agreed,” said Tuvok, moving to the rear compartment. “Follow me.”
Against the far bulkhead of the Holiday was a cramped alcove large enough to fit a single person, perhaps two if they didn’t have concerns about personal space. Pava