There are many synonyms for the feelings Larrn was experiencing at the moment. But she wasn't going to engage in such analysis and simply described her emotions in simple and understandable words.
Anger and irritation.
And a little bit of rage, which she allowed herself to show only after boarding her ship. Many centuries ago, it was named "The Wanderer" and has not changed it since.
Larrin did not belong to the kind of people who once began their journey from the command bridge of the Wanderer. For seven generations, this starship has been led by those whom the Council and the crew deemed worthy for such a role.
But for the first time in all this time, the Wanderer had a female commander.
The Nomads' society was not intolerant or judgmental to restrict any of its members from activities aimed at the development and improvement of society.
The latter is the only condition for staying in your post. Whether you are a teenager, a frail old man, a woman, or a disabled person – if you are good at your job, no one will have any complaints about you. The main thing is not to mess up.
But, in order to take the position you want to get, you need to try hard and prove yourself. Larrin began to try twenty years ago, when her last relatives died.
However, she did not see the death of her father and mother with her own eyes. Five years apart, they were dropped off on different planets. And they were never remembered again. It is not the custom of the Nomads to sit and cry about those who can no longer be useful to their society. Wandering in space makes you less sensitive, tougher.
From fifteen to twenty-five, she was a scout, visiting dozens of worlds so that the Nomads could live better. On some planets, they knew they were a nomadic people, but they didn't know they wandered in space. On most others, they didn't even suspect who they were trading with.
It was then that she was struck by the colors and expanses of the planets she visited. And it didn't take her much effort to go to the worlds where the Nomads had dropped off her parents.
Only she found no one.
The primitive communities, where the Nomads predominantly dropped off those who became a burden, could not withstand the selection of the wraiths. And it was not difficult for her to learn that her parents had been gathered for slaughter like some kind of cattle.
For almost her entire career as a scout, she did not doubt that, although cruel, her people were acting correctly. Otherwise, they wouldn't survive.
But the longer she spent on the planets, the more she wondered: is there really no world in the entire galaxy that is not familiar with the wraith invasion? Practice showed that there wasn't.
But science... She couldn't say for sure what drove her – hope or statistics – but she believed that there must be a place in the galaxy that the wraiths would not be interested in as hunting grounds. In her opinion, it should be a planet without stargates, because then the wraiths couldn't fly through the Ancestors' ring for prey.
And in such a world, the Nomads could live without fear for their lives, maintaining contact with the galaxy using their ships. And then there would be no need to drop people off on alien planets! Even in the most extreme case, if the Council did not agree to stop wandering, they could always land their people on a planet that had become their home, where they would be safe!
And she also understood that she would not be able to find such a planet as a scout. Therefore, she dedicated her best years to achieving the position of ship commander.
And very soon she realized that she would have to overcome herself and her principles to achieve what she desired.
Although it was disgusting and sometimes haunted her in nightmares, she got the Wanderer at her disposal. An old ship, almost falling apart, whose crew was too tired of the overwhelming number of problems that awaited them every day.
Four years and the remnants of her own morals were spent on not letting her cherished dream crumble to dust. Without paying attention to the price and her self-disgust for what she had done, she obtained what was necessary to restore her ship. And now, for a whole year, the Wanderer has not afflicted its crew with a dozen critical damages a day.
This is definite progress.
And a certain respect that she gained among other captains. She didn't want to think about the support of some of her actions by members of the Council because of the overwhelming desire to vomit.
Not that she cared about having to clean up breakfast leftovers. She just didn't want to waste already tasteless food. There isn't enough of it for everyone.
The Ancient ship was a great opportunity to get not just a starship that would relieve dozens of overcrowded ships of their old fleet of people, but also to allow her to take a leading position among the captains. Who in their right mind would even think of arguing with the one under whose command was the Ancestors' warship?
It's just... She didn't succeed.
She failed to negotiate with the leader of the Lantians to exchange herself and a promise of cooperation for the ship.
She failed to negotiate with the Council to meet the Lantians halfway and give them the ship in exchange for cooperation.
She had failed at things before, but today... It's a verdict.
Finding herself in her cabin, the young woman closed the hermetic seal behind her, and only then allowed her rage to surface.
Again and again, she drove the sole of her boot into the edge of the bed, as if it were the cause of her misfortunes. And by the time her leg started to hurt, and the metal hadn't even thought of deforming, she let go.
Collapsing on the bed, she felt helpless.
There is such a concept as "being screwed." To be brazenly used, and then thrown away like a piece of cladding that has served its time and is falling apart.
Right now, the Council and the part of it that Larrin was counting on had "screwed" her. In a particularly cynical form.
A buzzing sound of an incoming call came from the table. The girl walked over to the intercom and pressed the feedback button.
"What?"
"Commander, this is Katana Labrea," Nevik informed her.
"Transfer it to my monitor," Larrin ordered, approaching the table where the computer, permanently welded to the tabletop, was located.
After a couple of seconds, the black screen flashed, and the face of a young woman with long dark hair appeared.
There weren't many female captains in the entire Nomad fleet. And Larrin had a certain authority among them. In fact, she was counting on them when she presented her proposal to the Council.
The calculation was simple – to show these conservative bastards that she had power behind her. Not only the female captains and their ships, but also Atlantis, which was ready to use force to reclaim what was theirs.
But the Council interpreted her words completely differently than she thought.
They were not going to change anything. Simply because they were not ready to lose their power over the Nomads. After all, if they depended on Atlantis, they would, in fact, turn into a semi-colony.
The Council was quite satisfied that birth control was turning their people into a nation of old people, their starships had practically exhausted their resources, and there was nowhere to get new ones. And Larrin's feelings, who said directly – Atlantis was not interested in controlling them. At most – cooperation, and even then, as Captain Asan rightly said – not exactly long-term.
Atlantis wants to get its ship back and in exchange is willing to share some knowledge. However, it must be understood that they do not have resource planets, nor a large number of people. They are not capable of controlling anyone there.
But the numerous Nomads, using Atlantis for their own purposes, could get not only a planet and a number of technologies in exchange for a ship that, perhaps, would never even be launched, but also, using their extensive connections and knowledge of the galaxy, become valuable partners to the Lantians.
Resource suppliers, for example. And all this, not just for pretty eyes, but as mutually beneficial trade!
"Larrin," she heard a loud address to herself.
"I'm here," the commander of the Wanderer replied.
"Really?" Katana gave a sad smile. "And I thought a moment of silence said something else."
Katana Labrea, Nomad.
"I had a bad day," Larrin admitted. "Did something happen to you?"
"More like to you," Labrea became serious. "The Council sent me and other captains an order – to proceed to the system with the Ancient ship. And, you know yourself, they wouldn't interfere with the captains' interests..."
"Unless they considered my actions to threaten the interests of the Nomads," Larrin gritted through her teeth. "They want to take the Ancient ship away from me."
"It smells like a shield strength test," Labrea exhaled heavily. "Larrin, what's going on?"
"The Council rejected my proposal to give the ship to Atlantis in exchange for a planet and cooperation," the Nomad said, quickly thinking about what she could do. The last thing she wanted now was to contact Mikhail and admit her helplessness. "And it seems they decided to take matters into their own hands."
Who will cooperate on equal terms with someone who cannot fulfill the promises made? Yes, she did not guarantee the result and the Council's agreement... But she was foolish enough to promise that, even if they didn't agree, she would give the ship herself.
Yes, after that, she could forget about ever restoring her authority among the captains. Most likely, after this deal, she would lose her ship and crew altogether. But at least she could count on Mikhail keeping his word. Well, and perhaps, show a little sympathy to the girl and those who would follow her, due to the severance of ties with their people.
But... If she loses the Ancient ship... If the Council lays its greedy hands on it, if it makes it its property, then she will have nothing. With the ship, but without support, she could hope for Atlantis's help. But without the Ancient ship, she would be needed by no one.
"How many ships do you have in the system with the Ancient battleship?" Katana asked, clearly agitated.
"My Wanderer, two other starships – all I could gather for such an occasion," Larrin admitted.
"There will be another one soon," Labrea assured her. "I'll be there in a few hours. The other fleet ships will take more time."
Katana has the fastest starship in the entire fleet. Not only because she knows how to find good technology, but also because her young chief engineer is completely insane. Even by Nomad standards.
"I can't ask you to do this," Larrin's conscience stirred. And this happens very rarely. "If they've gathered everyone, then..."
"Oh, come on," Katana laughed nervously. "Do you really think it will come to a battle? Everyone against everyone? I beg you. The Council is not so stupid as to think that a small civil war would benefit anyone. They'll shake their cannons, shout, threaten, call us fools, and threaten to take away our ships. After which they will calm down and a dialogue will begin on the topic of what they really want from you and those who stand by your side."
"I hope so," Larrin said, looking at the transmitter lying on the edge of the table, which Mikhail had given her. It looks like a radio, but in reality, it's a very advanced communication device... "I will contact everyone I trust. If there are many of us, then the Council will want to discuss the issue of transferring the ship again. You're right – no one needs a new civil war."
A war in which dozens of ships along with their crews could perish or be damaged to the point where they could not be restored. Considering how many people are on board each ship... If the Council really decides that the Ancient battleship is worth shooting at their own...
No, they don't have the guts for that.
"Four hours," Katana said. "And I'll be in the system. The closest other ship, by my calculations, will be there in eight hours. Another, meaning not ours, but..."
"I understand," Larrin said. "Another" means loyal to the Council. Practically an enemy. "See you soon."
"I'll be there soon," Labrea reminded, disappearing from the screens.
Enemy... Until now, only wraiths were enemies.
Larrin didn't believe that one part of the Nomads would go against another. The Ancient ship, of course, is a valuable toy for the conservative part of the Nomads, but to go to war...
For centuries, they have been fighting for as many of them as possible to survive. The Council will not give the order to shoot even at four or five ships that support her. Simply because, in addition to the crew, who stand by their captain, there are also a significant number of artisans on board who are needed by everyone. Children from other ships, after all. They won't kill them, will they?
"Larrin," a voice came from the intercom. "We are being called from the Endurance."
The girl reached the intercom.
"Transfer it to my cabin. And all similar calls too."
"Understood," Nevik replied. "Do we need to know what's happening?"
"I'll tell you after I talk to Asan," she promised. "And for now... I want to know where the nearest planet with stargates is."
"Three hours away from here," Nevik replied instantly. "The conditions are more than modest and not suitable for a long stay."
"It's suitable."
In fact – barely. Three hours one way, about an hour for activities, three back... And, if nothing happens, the return will be just in time for the arrival of the Council's ships.
As always – she will have to take a risk.
"Did you contact me to dance on my bones?" Larrin asked when Asan's face appeared on the monitor.
"I see you're already aware," he said grimly.
"Good people told me," she assured him. "I assume the Endurance will be here in eight hours?"
"In nine," Asan corrected. "And three more ships that will support me. That's why we're delayed. Plus those you have. I think that will be enough for the Council not to mess around, but to discuss everything again."
"Your support was a surprise to me during the conversation with the Council," Larrin admitted.
"I'm for survival," he replied.
"Or maybe you were offered something too," Larrin smirked. "A hyperdrive? Weapons?"
"It's a private deal," Asan cut off. "You're not in a hurry to tell about your conditions either."
"A girl should have her secrets," Larrin chuckled.
"Then be content with them," Asan said. "We may not agree on many things, but we have something in common. A view of the future. I don't want to see us slowly degenerate. Only for this reason will I support you."
"And only because you believe – they won't open fire," Larrin added.
"That's right," Asan agreed. "Only on board the ships I bring will there be almost eleven thousand of our people. And some more on yours. This is already a certain percentage of our entire race. The Council won't dare."
"I hope so," Larrin admitted. "But I don't believe in optimism. Therefore, here's what I propose..."
Styx entered the chambers that were allocated for the queen's containment.
An unremarkable compartment, of which there were many on the base. But at the same time, it was not an apartment where, by status, the hive queen was supposed to reside.
But it was not a prisoner containment compartment either, which would correspond to her status.
It was a laboratory and a prison at the same time.
Blasphemous on the part of any wraith commander. It didn't matter if he was a blade or a smart one, like Styx.
Keeping a queen prisoner is more than undignified.
Only a queen can imprison another queen. A commander cannot harm a queen – regardless of whether she was his queen or from a rival hive. The mental powers that the queen possessed would not allow the commander to do so.
An ordinary commander.
But Styx's mental strength was higher than that of ordinary wraiths. Higher than that of the Cunning Blade. True, the younger wraiths did not know this.
And therefore, the resentful and helpless look she cast at him, as soon as the smart one entered, partly confirmed that this queen also represented no threat to anyone until recently.
The closer he approached her, bound by dozens of organic tendrils, strapped to a luxurious throne that had previously only accommodated worthy queens, the stronger the pressure on his mind became. The Cunning Blade tried to deprive him of his will, to bring him to his knees, to force him...
"A waste of energy," he said coldly, approaching the queen. His clawed fingers, covered in chitin, inherited from the iratus spider, gripped her angular chin. Turning the queen's head from side to side, he continued to ignore her murderous gaze, examining her emaciated face. "You are resisting. That's foolish."
Her dark veins, showing through her pale skin, pulsed nervously in time with the equipment that restrained the queen and penetrated her, working. Dozens of organic cables – from thin tendrils to thick ones, as thick as an arm, were now connected to her, sustaining life and simultaneously draining it from the Cunning Blade.
"I am a queen!" she roared. "You have no right to treat me like this!"
"Would it be better to kill you?" he asked, approaching a practically invisible console next to the queen's throne. His fingers touched a few pliable keys, and the data he was interested in appeared on the monitor. "Perhaps it would be better. You are not as sensible as I thought."
The wraith approached the queen and grabbed her face again. But this time not with the care and respect he had shown her before.
"It's probably better," he said. "Because you are useless. If you think you can constantly resist this mechanism, which was invented by the best wraith smart ones thousands of years ago, then you are mistaken. Today, tomorrow, or in a month – you will weaken enough for me to get what I want."
"My hive will find me!" she hissed. "My commanders will drag you and throw you at my feet! My smart ones will make you experience the most terrible pain you have never experienced before! I will feed on every member of your pathetic scavenger hive, and I will end my feast by sucking the life out of you with my feeding hand. The last thing you will see before your genetic line is broken is how with what pleasure I take your life. It will be so!"
"Your hive?" the smart one smirked. He wasn't going to comment on the rest of her bravado, making it clear to the Cunning Blade that her words were nothing more than a gust of wind that didn't bother him. "Your hive is now under my control. Your soldiers obey my orders. Your junior commanders are holding rallies in your former territories at my request. Your allies didn't even bother to wake up from hibernation to protect you or assert their rights to your liberation. Even your admirers," he brought his face closer, baring his teeth in a smile, "they serve me. The only thing left yours, queen," he said the last word with clearly discernible cynicism, mockery, and humiliation, "is life. And I will take it if you are not useful to me. As I took the lives of your senior commanders who refused to swear allegiance to me. And then, when my forces are countless, I will find those who fly on the Lantians' ship, I will have a feast. But you will not see it."
The queen showed her fangs, indicating that she despised the one standing before her.
"I wish you find them as soon as possible," the queen said mockingly. "And when they kill you and destroy your old useless hive, my wraiths will return for me. And everything you achieve will be mine. So do your job, smart one. Serve your queen. One way or another."
Keeping a queen in custody against her will is a violation of all traditions, written and unwritten laws.
But to slap a queen in the face... For such a thing, even a queen's consort would be killed on the spot.
"Don't waste your strength on futile dreams, Cunning Blade," he advised, watching as the captive queen looked at him with wide eyes. Everything she had believed in throughout her life, the inviolability of a queen by commanders, was now trampled and crushed by a single slap. She was not ready for this, confused, offended...
And in the next second, her eyes rolled back, and the Cunning Blade went limp, falling onto the part of the throne that supported the royal back.
Styx looked at the display. The parts of the monitor that had been flashing red until now changed their hue to yellow. This is better.
Styx looked at his hand, which he had raised to the queen.
"Just one blow," he laughed. "And the royal majesty crumbled into dust... Convenient."
The Cunning Blade held out long enough for him to start worrying about his plan. A lot of time had passed since he last used this base.
And too much had to be changed in the settings to launch even what little energy was available. A drop in the ocean…
But now, when a single blow was enough to destroy the mental resistance that the Cunning Blade used against the ancient mechanism, he had a chance. Now everything was working.
He just needed to find as much energy as possible.
And now that he didn't have to waste his time breaking the queen and rebuilding the mechanism, he could focus on the search he needed for the further advancement of his plan.