Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
He felt Hold reaching out to him through their Twin Bond—sending a feeling of regret and goodbye. Clearly his twin thought they were about to die and he could very well be right!
But just as he was certain the ship was about to shake itself apart into tiny pieces and leave the three of them floating in space, they finally came out the other side.
The shaking stopped as abruptly as it had started and the ship was still. Somewhere an alarm klaxon was going off and the ship’s mechanical voice was still listing all the systems that were damaged or failing but at least everything was still.
“Madre de Dios,” Celia whispered. “Is…is it over?”
“I think so.” Hold’s voice was hushed and uncertain. “Brother?” he asked, looking at Fierce.
“Yeah, give me a fucking minute.” Fierce didn’t like how shaky his own voice sounded. He’d never had such a close call while flying before and he needed a moment to collect himself.
But he didn’t have a moment.
“Warning,” the ship’s mechanical voice announced. “Life support systems compromised. Oxygen leak detected. Fuel leak detected.”
“Fuck!” Fierce muttered. “Estimated life support time remaining?” he bellowed at the ship to be heard above the alarm klaxon and the ominous hissing that was probably the oxygen leak.
“Thirty solar minutes life support remaining,” the ship informed him calmly.
Fierce cursed again.
“All right, that’s not good,” he told Hold and Celia, who were both looking at him anxiously. “But it should be enough to get us back to the Mother Ship at least.”
He began working with the controls, punching coordinates into the Nav Com…but then the ship spoke up again.
“Warning—nonviable route entered. At current coordinates, the destination you have programmed with take three hundred thousand solar light years to reach. All life forms aboard will be deceased at that time.”
“Three hundred thousand light years? The fuck are you talking about?” Fierce demanded. He wanted to pound the control panel in irritation, but he knew it wouldn’t help anything. “How could we be so far from the Mother Ship? Where are we, anyway?” he muttered.
He was mostly talking to himself, but the ship’s emergency actions had all been turned on so it heard him and answered.
“Currently in the Delta Quadrant of the Spinning Glass Galaxy, approximately three hundred thousand light years from the Kindred Mother Ship,” it informed him helpfully.
“What? Fuck!” Fierce roared and this time he did pound his fist on the instrument panel.
“How could this have happened? How could we have gone so off course?” Hold asked.
“Are…are we going to survive?” Celia’s voice was low and trembling. Despite being angry with her and both upset and frightened at their predicament, Fierce felt himself wanting to comfort the curvy little female. But there was no time for comfort—not if they wanted to live.
“I don’t fucking know. The wormhole must have destabilized in the time we were on Tranq Prime,” he said, answering his twin’s question first. “And we’re not going to die if I can help it,” he added, answering Celia’s.
He raised his voice again to address the ship’s emergency system.
“Ship—first, turn off the damn alarm!” he ordered.
The wailing klaxon in the background abruptly shut off, leaving only the ominous hissing of the oxygen leak. Well good—at least now he could hear himself think.
“Ship,” he said again. “Send long-distance call to the Kindred Mother Ship. Request immediate assistance!”
“Negative,” came the calm reply. “Regret to inform you that long range communications system is completely non-functional at this time.”
“Fuck!” Fierce raked a hand through his hair. “All right then…are there any inhabited planets nearby? Someplace within range of our life support capabilities where we can get repairs done?” he asked.
He held his breath as he waited to hear what the ship’s emergency voice would say. If the destabilized wormhole had thrown them so far from their destination, it might have just dumped them into an uninhabited quadrant of space. And if they only had thirty minutes of life support left, that meant they were most likely going to die.
But after a moment of computation and scanning, the voice answered,
“One inhabited planet detected in range of life support capabilities,” it announced. JoCosta Twelve is twenty-six solar minutes away.”
“Twenty-six? That’s cutting it close!” There was an edge of fear in Hold’s voice.
“Yeah, we might have to hold our breath for a few minutes but we’ll make it.” Fierce spoke with a confidence he didn’t feel. “Plot shortest course available to JoCosta Twelve,” he told the ship. “And hurry!”
“Course plotted,” the voice responded. “Proceed to JoCosta Twelve.”
Which was easier said than done, since every damn system on the ship was damaged in some way. It was like the long range shuttle had been dumped into an enormous, industrial sized food grinder and nearly mashed to pieces, Fierce thought as he coaxed it to start moving in the right direction. How the fuck had the wormhole destabilized so quickly?