Lately, inaction has started to annoy me.
Spending a few days on board a battleship, with no real opportunity to do anything or anything else… And, in fact, what "anything else"?
All my free time I spent in the city either studying something in Atlantis's database. For example, to understand how my personal shield works, or the pulsar, or the "jumper." Things I use and whose functionality I absolutely need to know.
But, this is just superficial knowledge. Understanding how a particular mechanism works, what systems and devices are in it, how they are interconnected. But nothing more.
I'm starting to understand Kirik's helplessness. Using something is not enough. You also need to understand how to fix it. And here, the skills of handling a crisper and rearranging crystals are no longer enough.
I want knowledge.
So much so that it sometimes turns into an itch, a hunger that cannot be appeased. I dive into some discipline, like physics or mechanics… And after half a day, I realize that what I've read goes beyond my understanding. I need accompanying knowledge to understand what I want to understand from the original database.
To distract someone from more than important work, whether it's a technician, Ihaar, Chaya, Trebal, or even Fren, is sacrilegious. By the time they tell me what, say, the blue crystal in the battleship's engine control panel is for, they could have repaired the wiring in an entire corridor, fixed blockages in the system on this level, or reprogrammed crystals in various devices corrupted by time, water, and something else.
My hands drop from the realization of my own uselessness. Even improved physiology and a more developed brain than that of an ordinary person don't give me an advantage in learning. Chaya looks at me with regret as I glance at the holographic room and ponder various plans on how to trick fate and get knowledge from Atlantis's database in a simple way, and quickly demolishes my "brilliant ideas."
The holographic room is designed for a fast-growing young mind. It's not even classical learning, as I know it. It's more like a gentle form of loading basic Lantian knowledge directly into the brain. To the extent that the brain can absorb the knowledge without the risk of a stroke, boiling of the cerebrospinal fluid, or worse.
The knowledge vault of the Alterans in the Milky Way galaxy. Is it truly harmless? If you see something like this, don't be afraid, boldly look into the very center.
It doesn't compare to the knowledge loading devices of the Ancients in the Milky Way that I saw in the series. They don't care at all how developed you are. If you have the gene and look at the wrong part of the wall – that's it, your head is in the grip of artificial hands, and whether you want it or not, you'll receive such an amount of data into your brain that in a couple of days you'll forget your native language. As well as the understanding of what you are doing, why, and how you are doing it.
Did you look? Well done. If you possess the Ancient gene, the device will react like this.
The more I think about this way of becoming useful to my own society, the more I associate it with the facehugger from Alien. Whether you want it or not, it will grab you by the head and shove what IT needs into you.
And what's the moral here? Exactly: even if they tell you that this thing is safe or that "it's necessary" – don't stick your head in there, it will eat you!
Or at least cause you a lot of discomfort. I remember the first person in known events who discovered such a device and gained the knowledge of the Ancients, literally screamed while loading all the knowledge of that race into his brain.
Whether it was from pain or fear is a separate question.
I think it was from the first, as at that time Colonel Jack O'Neill was far from a novice in dealing with the unknown by the time he encountered the knowledge vault of the Ancients. He wouldn't be called fearless, but he at least didn't panic.
But pain… He knew what it was. Both physical and emotional pain were familiar to him.
But there is a limit to everything.
I wasn't afraid of pain – the prospect of possessing the knowledge of the Ancients was far greater than just screaming a little. But… I could recall the code designations of the planets where the knowledge vaults of the Ancients were discovered. But I couldn't remember their coordinates.
I suspect that if you access Atlantis's historical database and request information about all the planets where the Alterans conducted their experiments in the Milky Way, you can find what you're looking for.
But… Where we are, and where the Milky Way is.
A melodious chime sounded from the entrance door, announcing that someone wanted to enter my cabin. I occupied a room that, according to the staff schedule, was allocated to the ship's first officer.
I could have, of course, kept the captain's cabin for myself, but… Why? The ship has a captain, and the cabin is rightfully hers.
As soon as I waved my hand over the scanning crystals of the panel controlling the door, the heavy airtight bulkheads parted, revealing the commander of the "Hippaphoralkus."
"Any news?" I asked, looking at the girl who dived past me into the cabin. "Has Larrin contacted us?"
"No, she's still in the same place," Trebal said, taking off her jacket. "And no, I won't make a sarcastic comment about the fact that you're asking about one girl in front of another."
In a couple of seconds, she shed her boots and started on the waistband of her uniform pants.
"Did you perhaps mix up cabins?" I inquired.
"I'm where I should be," she said, the zipper squeaking. "Doing what I should have done, and quite a while ago."
L-l-l-l-l-a-a-a-a…
I'd bet she didn't hem her uniform and wear pants a size too small out of poverty in our uniform supplies.
The gray fabric of the pants flew into a ball in the corner, landing on top of the jacket. Demonstrating her well-built, slightly wide hips, Trebal sent her T-shirt after her pants.
"A cute set," I said, looking at the thin strips of fabric that were digging a little too comfortably into her athletic body. They say about such people "broad-boned," but it was precisely this figure that suited the Dorandan best. Not an ounce of excess fat, well-built, and… I like it.
"Thanks," she threw back. "I borrowed something from Tayl's wardrobe."
"Does our leader of hunters and gatherers wear lace?"
"She's a young and beautiful woman!" she said reproachfully, putting her hands on her hips. The Ancient rolled up her high-laced socks into a ball and threw them into the heap of her clothes like a grenade. "She has the right to give herself confidence however she wants. Including beautiful lingerie. Handmade, by the way. It costs a bag of wheat. And one doesn't wear such things for just anyone!"
"A whole bag of wheat?" I chuckled.
"Yes, and we have an hour and a half before we exit hyperspace and possibly engage a whole fleet of Nomads," Trebal said impatiently, looking me up and down. "We could die from decompression, a direct hit from an enemy charge right into the bridge, from a reactor explosion, or a hundred other reasons, the enumeration of which doesn't sound like a prelude. Should I help you undress or…?"
She said the last part, crossing the distance between us in one long stride and placing her hands on me… in certain places.
"If you say now that it's a hand, and you made a hole in your pants pocket, I'll hit you," Trebal warned in a whisper.
"It's not a hand," I agreed, looking at the hot, youthful, and desirous beautiful girl. "It's just… I feel like we'll have problems if we do this."
The phrase in the style of Master Yoda made the girl chuckle.
"I promise I won't shout about it over the loudspeaker when we get back," she whispered, bringing her lips close to mine. "And anyway, it's nothing more than stress relief before a military operation and a presumed battle with superior enemy forces. There's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Or to delay," I agreed, taking off my jacket.
"If you want, we can keep it a secret," she offered.
"You know that the ship's internal sensors show that there are two people in the cabin?" When the T-shirt got stuck on my head at the neck, I almost tore it to pieces. And I only realized that the boots couldn't be removed in the usual way by stepping on the heel after they didn't come off on the third try. Damn primitive technology!
"Before leaving the bridge, I activated private mode in the living quarters," Trebal whispered to me, touching my chest with her palm. "So no one knows how many people are in which cabins. The mode will deactivate ten minutes before exiting hyperspace, but that's basic programming of the onboard computer, I have no control over that."
Running my hand over the contours of her muscles, the girl lowered her hands and deftly dealt with the belt, button, and zipper of her pants.
Pulling them down, she showed her displeasure that I held the last piece of outerwear with my hands.
"Should I get on my knees in front of you?" she asked with malice in her voice. "Or beg like in your religion? Misha, I really don't have the strength to wait anymore. I've been tormenting myself the whole flight and…"
"Quiet," she obediently fell silent as my finger took a position across her lips. "What's happening here…"
"Nothing is happening here," she said, barely parting her lips.
"...should not affect our relationship and our common cause," I finished my thought. "If I find out that you used what you intended in some way to spite Chaya…"
A shadow crossed Trebal's face.
I understand myself that I'm acting despicably. In such moments, you don't talk about other women… Because in such moments, you don't care about other women. Two opposites were fighting in me now – decency and honesty against lust and thoughtlessness.
Trebal's hand slightly changed the place of its touch on my body. So, this is both dangerous and pleasant at the same time.
"And now," she said with a slight hoarseness, looking me straight in the eyes. And there was not the slightest regret in her gaze. "When I have a part of you in my hand, please repeat: do you want to say something to me about your other girlfriend? Only," she said quickly, seeing that I intended to open my mouth, "think carefully. So to speak, your future is in my hands. Descendants and all that…"
"What you're doing is beyond good and evil," I said, moving my hand from her face, but shifting it to the back of the girl's head. "It's… wrong."
"Then it's good that at least one of us three has the courage to move from verbal acrobatics to action," she practically growled in my face. "If the Quiet One doesn't like something, she can always cry into her pillow. She's not a child, she'll figure it out. She's smart – she'll understand."
About the last part… I think so, but…
And also, I think Trebal is right. The situation has been in limbo for too long. And this is my oversight – instead of resolving everything myself, I shamefully retreated, not wanting to offend anyone…
But under Trebal's tightly clenched fingers, I feel that my body has already agreed with the method of resolving the situation.
"When we return, we'll need to have a serious talk," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.
"Do what you want," Trebal exhaled, freeing me from the rest of my clothes and slowly kneeling before me. "And I promised you to… sort things out. And I hate it when someone, even me, doesn't keep their promise."
An interesting statement, of course, but she's a prim and proper bitch, almost a prude… Oh, damn it, woman! Have you heard anything about the gag reflex⁈
* * *
"Captain on the bridge!" Ihaar said, not shouting, but in a tone as if it were something mundane, as he passed by the open hermetic doors of the "Hippaphoralkus" control bridge.
"Report!" Trebal demanded in her usual bitchy-annoyed tone, diluted only by an inexplicable light gait and a slightly mocking smile for those around.
The girl darted into the captain's chair in the center of the bridge and rested her hand on the only armrest. Although, in fact, it's also a control console for the captain's main functions. Communications, switching some crew functions to herself, and so on.
"Five minutes until we exit hyperspace," Ihaar reported, approaching the engineering console. "Engines, shields, pulse cannons, life support, reactors are stable. The technician in the chair reports that the arsenal is ready for use on command."
"What's on the scanners?" I inquired, settling into the chair to the left of Trebal. In front of me was another ship console, but at the moment it was not involved in direct system control. For convenience, its functions were transferred to another control panel, of which there were plenty in the bridge.
"Sixteen ships, all Nomad constructs," Ihaar reported. "Fast movement for most within a small area of space. I assume they are maneuvering or engaged in battle."
"How many of our tracking beacons are active?" I asked, sensing something bad.
Trebal, running her fingers over the buttons on the armrest, looked at the changed images on the nearest monitor.
"One beacon," she said. "The one installed on Assan's ship. But both subspace communicators are working. And one is outside the detected energy structures of the Nomad ships. The distance doesn't allow us to determine exactly where the 'extra' communicator is located."
But at the same time, there's a chance that the Ancient battleship is still intact. And that the second communicator is on board. However, without a functioning power plant, at least at a minimal level, it's not so easy to detect. And strengthening our own nose sensors to find out what we'll see with our own eyes in a couple of minutes is foolish. At least because reassigning energy to them will weaken the other sensors.
"Unusual," Ihaar remarked.
"No, it all fits within the framework of the most unpleasant theory," Trebal looked at me. "Larrin's ship was destroyed, but someone, possibly her, took the communicator with them elsewhere."
"Likely," I assumed. "Can you bring the ship out of hyperspace as close as possible to this communicator? With an adjustment for the size of the Ancient starship."
"It's not far from the exit point, oriented by the location of her beacon while it was sending a stable signal," Trebal closed her eyes for a moment. The light tunnel in front of us didn't change, but for a moment it seemed that the hum of the "Hippaphoralkus" mechanisms became stronger under our feet. "We can't get any closer, no matter how much we want to, so as not to ram any of this flying scrap metal. But we'll be within range of the teleportation cabin quite soon after exiting hyperspace," she clicked the internal intercom control. "We're arriving at our destination. Battle stations. Landing party, prepare for transfer."
"We're ready," Tayla appeared at the threshold, accompanied by Kirik and Saiya. All three were prepared for the sortie, properly equipped and armed. The cyborg held a spare harness with equipment that didn't belong to her. "Ihaar, we're just waiting for you."
The senior engineer, glancing at his workstation, took the harness from the cyborg and began to put on the harness with the equipment he had prepared himself. Scanner, spare crystals, wiring, and so on – everything necessary for field repair of the Ancient ship.
Except for spare parts. But, I remember, in known events, the ship didn't need them. At least to jump into hyperspace and get away. And then a normal repair could be carried out with spare parts from the "Aurora," stored on the "Hippaphoralkus."
"At least they gave me a shield this time," he grumbled, attaching a blue crystal to his chest under the polymer body armor. "Can't do without me this time, can you?"
"No," I replied. "We enter, check the condition of the battleship, take control of the bridge, block the enemy, if there is one on the ship, using internal screens, and leave. Trebal," I looked at the girl in the captain's chair, "will cover us with shields and pulse cannons. I hope you remember that the shells are to be used only in case of extreme necessity?"
"I remember perfectly," she assured me. "And don't forget – if there's a threat, immediately get into the chair and finish them with shells. You said they have more in this battleship's arsenal than we do."
"Enough for a battle with a whole fleet," I sighed, looking at my communicator. Like everyone in the landing party, it's connected to the "Hippaphoralkus" communication systems. As long as the ship has transmitters, we'll hear each other. "And, I beg you. First, offer them to disperse."
"Saying a few kind words from me won't hurt," the girl assured me. "But I can't promise how they'll behave."
"And you don't have to, the main thing is to try to disable their ships, not blow them up," I asked, waving my hand for the group to move towards the teleportation cabin. "Fire on all who wish to kill us. Kirik, you can put away the wraith stunner."
Regarding the Nomad soldiers who might be on board the Ancient battleship, the instruction is simple and non-trivial.
"I'm more used to it," the former "fugitive" assured, holding a non-lethal wraith stunner in his hand.
He, like Ihaar, had a firearm with him, but both preferred to use non-lethal weapons as their primary. The first relied on the wraith stunner, the second on the Ancient electroshock weapon.
"Ihaar, Kirik, Saiya – you're in charge of engines and generators, Teyla and I will take control of the bridge. Kirik, you're in charge of your group."
During the flight, we were able to conduct several "practice" operations in the corridors of the "Hippaphoralkus." Without shooting, of course, we just studied the movement routes and the fastest way to reach the target.
"Order understood," the cyborg reported, disengaging the safety on her assault rifle with an extended magazine. "Are there any friendly force identification signals?"
A question that had puzzled me from the very beginning. Because, apart from Larryn and Nevik, we didn't know any Nomads who could be on our side.
"Once we're on board the ship, I'll contact Larrin. If she and her people are there and alive, we'll know where they are and how to contact them."
"Orders in case of absence of allies?"
"Kill everyone who shoots at us. And as little destruction inside the ship as possible," I asked.
"Combat setting accepted," Saiya's blue eyes flashed, letting me and Teyla enter the teleportation cabin first. Kirik's squad followed us, and they will exit first.
We could only hope that the main plan would work, and the teleportation cabin, which is part of the minimal power consumption systems, would still be functional. The battleship, as soon as we are within teleportation range, should receive a program written by Chaya from the "Hippaphoralkus" bridge. A code that will "revive" its generators and life support systems. For ten to fifteen minutes, after which the onboard computer will switch to "Ship Mutiny" mode and block everyone with hermetic doors, and then go back into hibernation.
Unfortunately, this was the maximum we could do with a third-generation ship without pre-activating its key systems using the Ancient gene. According to Chaya's assumptions, even such an intervention might cause the ship to not respond even to our commands.
If it doesn't work… Otherwise, we switch to Plan B and fly out on a "jumper."
"Maybe they'll show some sense and won't offer us resistance," Tayla said hopefully.
The ship shuddered slightly, indicating its exit into real space.
"Trebal," I addressed the girl over the radio. "What do we have?"
"A small civil war," the Dorandan sighed. "Raise shields, sublight to maximum, pulse cannons to combat! Open a general communication channel with all ships. My name is Trebal, commander of the battleship 'Hippaphoralkus,' Atlantean Space Navy. We came for our ship and we won't leave without it. I demand you immediately cease fire and clear the ships from my course. I give you five minutes to leave the Ancient warship's board, otherwise I will open fire to destroy!"
"If this is 'saying a few kind words,' then I'm the chief scientist of Atlantis," Ihaar grumbled, peering at the control panel of the battleship's transport cabin. On the touch screen, only the "Hippaphoralkus" scheme and a single red dot, belonging to his own transport cabin, were lit. In which, in fact, we were.
"Come on, come on, come on," I muttered quietly, realizing that Chaya's program should have already been accepted by the ship's damaged transmitter. We're so close, even the short-range scanners…
"Skipping the details, I'll just say they refused," Trebal's voice came from the intercom. "Two allied ships, Assan and a certain Katana, have made contact. They claim Larrin's starship was destroyed, and the remaining crew retreated to the battleship, where they are being finished off. Good luck. Course fire from pulse cannons at the oncoming ship!"
The "Hippaphoralkus" shuddered, taking the hit from the Nomad energy weapons on its shields. Not fatal, but it does affect the overall defense.
"It worked!" Ihaar pointed to the icon of the second battleship and the red dot of the transport cabin in the center that appeared on the touch screen. "Mikhail, are we going?"
"Let's go," I ordered, disengaging the safety on my weapon simultaneously with Tayla.
The cabin doors closed.
Light…
* * *
A couple of hundred years ago, the "Endurance" could still live up to its name. But at the moment.
"Shields at twenty percent!"
A flash of sparks made me wince—an auxiliary monitor had exploded from overload.
"Main thrusters unresponsive!" came the report. "Transferring power to auxiliaries!"
"Sublight engines are damaged, losing power! Rerouting power through secondary circuits!"
Their hopes were not to be fulfilled.
Eight ships against twenty… It was an adventurous undertaking from the very beginning.
After half an hour of fierce battle, having exchanged one of their starships for one of the enemy's, which would have been excellent luck if they were Wraiths' ships, Larrin evacuated her flagship due to a runaway reactor. Former friends know where to shoot on each other's ships.
In the next ten minutes, the battle turned into a beating. Two more ships from each side perished before the other two of Larrin's supporters surrendered and left the battlefield at the Council's command.
After that, only his "Endurance" and Captain Labrey's "Swift" remained. The latter's starship, possessing the best hyperdrive and the highest quality sublight engines, delivered swift, almost surgical strikes against the ships of their former comrades, while the "Endurance" tried to utilize the advantage of its shields.
But it was clear to everyone that this battle was lost as soon as it began. However, both allies could no longer escape, having suffered catastrophic damage to their hyperdrive power systems. Communication systems were damaged, along with the hyperdrives, among the first, so neither Larrin nor Asan could even call for help from the Lantians.
The former had an idea to try to connect her communicator to the damaged communication system of the Ancients' dreadnought, while simultaneously defending it from capture by the Council's forces. But Asan understood that this was just a desperate hope that the Lantians had not let them go without tracking the location of their potential allies.
He himself now hoped that Kaspar's story about the beacon on the hull was true… Although the mechanics had not been able to inspect the hull completely during the stopover.
And now, as the numerous enemy forces had cornered them and practically surrounded them near the Ancients' dreadnought, all that remained was to order them to abandon the ship and join Larrin and the remnants of her people in a desperate attempt…
And then a greenish flash of hyperspace cut through the blackness of space.
And a battlecruiser of Atlantis appeared on the battlefield…
For a moment, the Nomads' ships stopped firing when information about the arrival of another ship appeared on their monitors. It took a second to understand—the starship's signature did not match the Nomads' own technology.
This guest did not belong to the Wraiths either.
And then, on the bridges of all the Nomad ships without exception, the hologram of Captain Trebal, already familiar to Asan, appeared. And her words, instilling confidence in him and Katan that they would not have to part with their crews and starships today, began to sound.
The gamble on the Lantians' cunning had paid off.
Their dreadnought with a difficult-to-pronounce name had arrived to bring a crippled brother home.
"Hippaphoralkus" exits hyperspace.
Perhaps it would have been better for Mikhail or someone else of the men to voice this demand. Despite any conventions, in Nomad society, women, though not by much, are lower than male captains.
And what Trebal said… It actually humiliated them.
And perhaps that was what she was aiming for.
The Council's starships, allocating three ships to confront the "Swift" and "Endurance," began maneuvering, unleashing a hurricane of red energy charges on the Lantians' ship.
And the Lantians' ship responded.
No less than a dozen twin-gun turrets on the side of the Ancient ship unleashed fire on the Nomad starships that tried to surround it. Mercilessly, with terrifying power, the Lantians' ship's cannons pierced the shields of the "Endurance" analogues with the fourth or fifth hit.
The swarm of starships that pounced on the ship that arrived from Atlantis turned out not to be a group of predators, but prey. As soon as the "Hippaphoralkus" passed through their formation, moving to connect with the attacked "Swift" and "Endurance," three of the thirteen attacking Nomad ships were left drifting chaotically behind the giant's stern.
Asan, commanding his ship, dodging the crossfire with his comrades, was not at all embarrassed by observing the battle through the only side porthole on the bridge.
The spectacle was worth it.
And the Lantians' ship had not even launched its main weapon, the homing missiles.
In an instant, Asan understood the essence of Larrin's hope for the acquisition and protection of the colony by the forces of the ship they could not obtain.
And all the more bitter was the emptiness inside that they would never receive.