"Are you sure you're all right?" Teyla inquired. In the girl's gaze was care and attention to what was happening with the passenger in the second row of seats of our Jumper.
Kirik was pale — and the whiteness of his face hadn't changed at all during the last fifteen hours of our flight. But, credit to the former runner, he was bearing his brain's mischief with honor.
"Yes," he croaked. "I sailed on a ship in the ocean a few times. The sensations were roughly the same."
"You're getting motion sick," Teyla explained. The girl looked at me:
"Mikhail, you said this wouldn't happen."
"Yes," I fought off a yawn with all my might. "The ship has stabilization systems installed. Including an inertial damper. There is effectively no rocking motion."
"But that doesn't mean I can't imagine it," Kirik said.
"And the first twenty hours of the mission were perfectly fine," Teyla mused.
"True," the runner agreed with her.
"It's just that the mission has already been going on for twenty-five hours," this time I couldn't suppress my body's urges. "And we've been in flight for only fifteen."
As for the first ten hours... Well, strange as it is to say, even in the Pegasus galaxy, another reality for me, they passed quite normally. I'd even say familiarly. And no, in my past life I didn't live in Atlantis — not even close. Although, sometimes the utility workers didn't do their job and the neighborhood periodically flooded.
No, something else happened here, something much more 'interesting.' You can be reborn in a new world. You can even appear in a universe that is familiar to you and was loved by me many years ago. You can marvel at ending up in a city that is the highest point of development of human knowledge. Yes, not the one you yourself belonged to in the past, but the one you belong to now.
And you can also marvel that even millions of years of evolution of different branches of humanity couldn't change the peculiarities of the female way of getting ready for 'long trips.'
Remembering a famous book, I wanted to paraphrase: "We had two Jumpers, five people in them, one huge nacahdah reactor capable of powering a spaceship or a city, two ship's lockers half-filled with weapons, and a whole sea of various instruments, crystals, glassy wires, and jumper superconducting cables, as well as one restored Ermen military pilot spacesuit, one miraculously preserved scientific spacesuit from the same place, a crate of ammunition, and a supply of everything necessary for twelve days. Not that all of this was absolutely necessary for the trip, but if you're going to deal with the outskirts of the Lantean system, you have to take the matter seriously."
That's right. For ten hours, Chaya, even though we knew in advance that we would be making this flight, packed her Jumper. Although she assured me she'd do it in five minutes, because she'd already packed everything necessary aboard the ship she'd chosen.
And she had been preparing for that flight ever since we came to the conclusion that we would still have to fly and that the last satellite absolutely had to be inspected. How to use it is a separate conversation.
"You should get some sleep," Teyla started the same song she'd been singing for the last ten hours or so. On my Jumper, the only passengers were her and Kirik. Chaya and Alvar were moving in the second ship, slightly ahead of us.
"I'm afraid that if I hit the sack, our ship will go into uncontrolled drift," I explained the reason why, even though it wasn't entirely comfortable, I was still piloting the ship. And, I must say, I got it to the destination. "So, we keep pushing through. Chaya and Alvar's situation is no better than ours. But I hope that after this assignment we'll have a chance to replenish the Atlantis team."
"With prisoners?" Kirik clarified. "Will we lock them up like those two in the cells, and send them to the freezing chambers during the departure time?"
"Stasis," Teyla corrected.
"But they're frozen in there, aren't they?" the former runner clarified.
"Well... Yes," Emmagan conceded defeat in the battle against logic.
"So it's a freezing chamber," Kirik shrugged.
On the outskirts of the Lantean system, we had two missions — on a moon and on a planet. Accordingly, two groups were needed. Neither mission promised anything simple, so I decided it was best to fly in two Jumpers. Chaya and Alvar were supposed to repair (or at least try to) the Ancient satellite. She is our only engineer with experience working with Ancient systems. So, Sar is the only one who can, in principle, make this mechanism work.
Alvar isn't there for decoration either. Among the things he and Kirik managed to capture in the last raid against the Genii were several light spacesuits of local manufacture.
On Ermen, they were used for short-term — no more than twelve hours — stays in space. Such spacesuits, or 'Skafs' as Alvar called them, were used by pilots of suborbital fighters, one of which he had been a pilot of. As well as scientists who studied space from a small space station in orbit. Unfortunately, neither the station nor the cosmonauts remained after the Wraith invasion.
But the Genii, in their greed, stumbled upon a warehouse with Skafs and took them for themselves. As a result, we now have a dozen light Skafs for military pilots and an equivalent number of scientific Skafs. They don't differ much from each other, some were damaged, but they can be restored or cannibalized for parts for the others. Either way, it's better than not having them at all.
If only we could get at least one more reasonably intact Ermen suborbital fighter — that would be just great. But what isn't there, isn't there. We have to make do with the numerous collected wreckage stored in a separate laboratory-warehouse.
Why do we need fighters of another race? It's all very, very simple: the Ancients didn't have them in Pegasus. At all. Only 'Jumpers,' which served as both cargo and passenger small ships before the war with the Wraiths. And after that, they were equipped with several systems, including combat ones — a dozen homing missiles.
Yes, the Jumper surpasses the Wraith 'Dart' in its technology. But it's completely unsuitable for a battle of small spacecraft. Its cloaking technology disables immediately after the first drone is fired, meaning the advantage is lost at the very start of the battle. The amount of ammunition is limited, while the Darts have none. Flight speed is lower than a Dart's, and our sensitivity to losing such a ship is higher than the Wraiths'.
Not to mention that only those with the Ancient gene can operate the Jumpers. Currently, that's only me and Chaya.
Producing them is slow and very expensive — the resources needed are colossal, and there are absolutely no manufacturing plants. The Lanteans generally didn't have such a concept as an industrial factory or anything like that. They simply created the necessary parts in the workshops we discovered on Atlantis and assembled whatever they needed from them.
While the Wraiths simply grew the technologies they needed in a fairly short time.
Since the Terrans and their technologies haven't reached Pegasus, Terran ships equipped with Terran versions of space fighters won't appear here either. Consequently, if we ever face Wraith ships with our own Ancient spaceship, things will be tough for us.
According to the records available in the Atlantis database, Lantean military tactics were based solely on the use of drones. But we don't have that many of them either. And manufacturing one such homing projectile requires energy. Draining a ZPM to create a full combat load for Atlantis would be incredibly stupid.
On the black haze of space, dotted with the lights of distant stars, the outlines of a metal structure emerged. Like a pincushion, the Satellite was literally studded with numerous antennas of the most diverse shapes and designs.
Only... Maybe I'm being picky, but... It looks kind of shabby compared to the other Ancient technologies in the Pegasus Galaxy. As if it had been assembled in great haste from whatever was at hand — at least the outer part.
On the other hand, what the hell difference does it make what this battle satellite looks like? Its job isn't to walk a Paris Fashion Week runway — it's to waste pale-skinned, white-haired Wraiths who dress like metalheads. The more, the better.
"What a giant!" Teyla exclaimed, as the Satellite's surface became clearer to the observers, gleaming in the rays of the local star. "It's bigger than a Wraith ship!"
"Well, it just looks that way to you because you're scared," I assured the Athosian woman, following the canon of that old Earth joke about the girl and the size. And even though I was dying to sleep, the fun part was still ahead. "It's big, but not that big."
"Is this it?" Kirik's voice expressed genuine admiration for what he saw through the Puddle Jumper's porthole.
"It is," I confirmed, opening the comm channel. "Jumper-II, how are things? Ready for work?"
The second ship participating in this expedition moved around us and began approaching the massive structure ahead.
"Ready as always, Misha," Alvar responded.
"We'll be ready to dock in a couple of minutes," Chaya echoed. It was strange. According to her, my genetics were more advanced than hers. Yet her voice sounded much livelier than mine. "We've already put on our spacesuits. Inside, there's no life support, no gravity, and no power at all. Once we dock, I'll feed power from the Jumper to the docking port. We'll go inside, take a look, hook up the generator, start the internal systems, and begin figuring things out. If the damage the scout drone saw is the only damage there is, the repair won't take long. I think no longer than you'll be on the surface."
"From your voice, no one would guess the flight tired you out," I said with some envy.
"Of course it didn't," Chaya replied in surprise. "I sent it on autopilot. We had time to rest. Didn't you?"
Cruel.
I felt two pairs of piercing eyes on me.
"Still pushing through?" Kirik clarified.
"Aren't they in a worse state than we are?" Teyla inquired in an innocent voice.
"No one was stopping any of you from sleeping," I reminded them. Actually, the guys had managed to catch some shut-eye right after takeoff. I had my "uberwaffe" for hunting on the planet. But they, unfortunately, didn't have personal shields or energy weapons. "So, let's have no complaints."
"Yeah, what complaints..." Kirik fell silent, watching us drift beside the massive Satellite.
Chaya's Jumper had already approached the satellite's docking port, turned around, and backed into a specially designed airlock.
Still, it was potentially more powerful than any Wraith starship. The cruisers, the hives, not to mention the rest.
"And it can destroy Wraith ships?" Kirik asked, not taking his eyes off the satellite.
"Yep."
"But it's just hanging here, idle."
An Ancient battle satellite.
"The Wraith damaged it during the battle for Atlantis. The rest, as I understand it, they destroyed," our Jumper came to a halt, canceling its speed and starting to scan frequencies. "If we can restore the satellite, we'll have a decently combat-ready defense against a possible Wraith attack."
"You think they'll eventually figure out that Atlantis wasn't destroyed?" Kirik asked. "Ten thousand years have passed."
Little by little, we were bringing our ally up to speed on what had happened. Some of what we told him confirmed the legends and tales he knew; some things were new to him...
"The Wraith knew that of all the planets and cities settled by the Lantians and their allies, only Atlantis survived," I explained. "So far, there aren't many signs of our return, but they exist. Soon enough, the Wraith will stop messing around and figure out where to find us. And it's better to have better protection by then than a damaged city on the ocean floor."
"But that approach kept the Wraith from reaching Atlantis all this time," Kirik reminded me. "Why not use the same tactic? Or won't it work?"
"We don't have enough resources or people to stick with the same tactic the Lantians used," Chaya's voice came through the cockpit speakers. "We're not planning to publicize the satellite's recovery just yet. We'll just study it, repair it, and make it combat-ready. If I can connect engines, shields, and a stabilization system from the Jumpers to it, we can tow it from the system's periphery to Lantea's orbit."
"But then, if the Wraith come, it'll be literally under their noses," Kirik continued with his questions.
"I intend to solve that problem too, using cloaking generators from the Jumpers," Chaya said. "Okay, we've connected to the docking port and opened the passage into the satellite. We'll need about half an hour to figure everything out here and connect the generator."
"Good," I replied. "We'll stay nearby just in case. Once your situation stabilizes, we'll get on with our own business."
"Roger that," came Alvar's voice. "Chaya has left the ship. She's moving toward the damaged control panels now, intending to replace some of the wiring rather than doing it after the generator starts up."
Just as we'd agreed earlier.
"I see her," I reported, spotting the tiny snow-white silhouette gliding smoothly along the satellite's massive hull. Clipped to her belt with carabiners, a special bag of spare parts needed for the external repair floated behind the girl. A tool bag hung on the other side. A thin but strong tether also trailed behind her, keeping her from drifting too far from the Jumper in case of an emergency. "I'm bringing the Jumper closer to back her up."
Essentially, if something happened to her now, our only hope was ourselves. Without her, Jumper-II was completely useless right now, and it was only the fact that she hadn't shut down its main systems that allowed Alvar to stay inside without extra problems. Otherwise, he'd already be starting to freeze slowly. But he couldn't fly the ship under any circumstances.
"I've reached the first damaged circuit," Chaya reported. "Opening the panel."
A moment of silence.
"How bad is it?"
"The main distribution relay is destroyed, the primary power circuit is damaged," the girl determined. "The crystal matrices are shattered or burned out, so the main power line isn't working. I think that's why the satellite couldn't switch to the secondary line and keep firing. The damage is from relatively small energy charges. I suspect the satellite was hit by fire from a Dart."
"Can you fix it?" I asked.
"Yes," after a moment's thought, she added, "But that's not the main problem. The primary power source was destroyed by aimed fire. I think that was also Darts."
"So, without the generator, we can't get it running?" I asked.
"No," Chaya said. "Installing a Naquadah Reactor outside, replacing the original, isn't practical — all the power buses here are destroyed. I'll connect it from inside, from the control room, running new main buses to the remnants of the existing ones. It's going to be a lot of work."
"I could help," Alvar spoke up. "Working together would be easier, after all."
"No need," Chaya objected. "There's not much room in here, even for one person. No convenience for maintenance or repair. So it was assembled in a hurry. And I don't think they were counting on servicing it much."
"Will that be a problem for us when we upgrade the satellite?" I asked.
"Yes," Chaya said after a moment's thought. "We'll have to rebuild some of the external structures and lay some new power elements. I'm afraid we never imagined what problems installing a cloaking device on this satellite would entail."
"We'll deal with problems as they come," I said. "We won't distract you anymore."
"Thank goodness for that," Chaya replied. "Alright, starting the wiring repair. I'm cutting out the burned main channel along its entire length from the fuses to the relay..."
* * *
"You want to disguise the satellite in orbit?" Kirik asked, a little quieter. "Make it invisible, like the Jumper?"
"Chaya says it's possible, given the power of the new reactor and the parts she removed from the Jumpers that can't be repaired."
We had several of those. And even with the workshop, restoring them was too "expensive" in terms of energy and the resources needed to manufacture replacement parts for the damaged, irreparable ones.
"There's no point keeping it here on the edge of the Lantean system," I explained. "When there were hundreds of Satellites throughout the system, it had practical value. But now, when there's only one and it's damaged... It makes more sense to drag it into orbit — that way we simply won't waste thirty hours traveling to it and back to bring spare parts."
Flying out from Atlantis, passing through the ocean depths, flying through the atmosphere, and reaching the calculated orbit where we intended to leave the satellite to defend the city only takes about fifteen minutes. So, all the spare parts needed for further repairs and upgrades would be delivered much faster.
Which would, accordingly, speed up the satellite's repair time.
"Finished with the external repairs," Chaya had spent about eight hours in open space. The oxygen reserves in her spacesuit were two-thirds depleted. But that wasn't a big problem — she'd return to Jumper-II's cargo bay, seal it, restore the atmosphere, and start up the air mixture refill system for the suits she'd cobbled together "on her knee." She'd finish it while maneuvering her ship to the docking port. "What's good is that I didn't notice any breaches in the control room's seal. If there are no holes, we should be able to restore the life support system in the dispatch room."
"Sounds like a plan," I praised. "Good job."
"I'm trying," the second Jumper headed for the docking port. "I won't recharge the spacesuit now — that would take longer than I need to connect the satellite's power from our reactor."
"Good," I approved. "Be careful."
"Always," the girl replied.
"What happens if the Wraith arrive before Chaya finishes fixing it?" the former escapee asked. "They'll see the satellite in orbit and destroy it."
"There's a risk," I admitted. "But I think Chaya and Alvar can make the satellite combat-ready during this trip. And in orbit, it'll already be ready to take out a couple of Wraith ships. I'm not putting my hopes on anything more than that, to be honest."
Essentially, the satellite was only needed to get rid of the enemy without resorting to projectiles or anything like that. It obviously wouldn't save us from the entire Wraith fleet — it'd be outnumbered. Just a way to hold back the first wave. The second, third, and subsequent waves would definitely come when the first wave's efforts failed. That's the Wraith — when something doesn't go their way, the plan goes off the rails, and when they lose, they send out a general call among themselves: "Here are the enemies, they're getting in the way, we need to hit them hard so the whole universe trembles."
Given that the Ancients and their technology, including Atlantis, are what undermines the Wraith's monopoly on ruling the galaxy... If they bite us, they won't let go until we die. Or until we run away, like the Lantians ten thousand years ago. But evacuating to Earth doesn't seem like a good idea to me — they have enough of their own problems there.
"I think, despite the difficulties, we should leave the satellite here until it's fully repaired and transformed," Kirik said decisively. "Here, the Wraith won't see it. But in orbit around the planet, it could be spotted through any porthole against the planet's background."
"And that's where you're wrong," I yawned. "Wraith ships don't have portholes. They navigate by scanner readings. And if the satellite isn't in their path or nearby, isn't active, and isn't radiating energy, there's a good chance they'll just fly right past it."
"You always rely only on hope?" Kirik asked.
"That's what we stand on," I sighed. "Well, that and the fact that we have access to big guns."
"I haven't noticed a large arsenal," the former escapee remarked.
"That's a figure of speech," Teyla, who was more familiar with my manner of speaking, prompted. "Mikhail means that after the Ancestors left, their technology remained in the galaxy. Things like this satellite. If we're lucky, we'll be able to find the weapons needed to protect Atlantis and her allies."
"And again — it'd be better to have something more than just simple hope," the escapee grumbled.
What I liked, and simultaneously found annoying about Kirik, was that he wasn't at all shy about asking questions that interested him. He says what he thinks. The guy is used to acting for sure and thinking through the consequences of his actions. It's a useful skill.
But it also showed that, despite our cooperation agreements, he doesn't fully trust us. Due to his suspicious nature, or his fear that we might miscalculate somewhere, as the Ancients once did, he tried to find out our full plans.
Unlike Teyla, for example, who was satisfied with general answers to the rare questions she asked. But then again, the Athosians practically have a religious veneration of the Ancients. And Chaya and I, when you get right down to it, fit that description.
Alvar also asked a minimum of questions — only those directly related to his work. A guy with a good understanding of chain of command: subordinates don't ask command questions.
And he considered Chaya and me as the latter. And she and I had something like a diarchy. Sometimes, questions tormented me about why the Proculucian didn't just tell everyone to go to hell and declare herself head of the city.
Without knowledge of Ancient technology, without a post in their hierarchy, without any authoritative influence on the city, the fact that I gave orders was essentially ephemeral in terms of my authority. But for some reason, Chaya didn't take a stand (and her character shows she knows how and likes to swim against the current) and didn't take the whole blanket for herself.
I had no direct answers, but I suspected the answer lay precisely in the fact that, according to Chaya, the genetics of my body, created by General Gipaforalcus in this universe, surpassed her own. She said I had Lantean genetics, while hers were close to it, but still classified as a lesser race.
I recalled that in the known events, cases arose more than once where, in matters of controlling key city systems — for example, for flight, launching projectiles, and so on — the "strength" of the genes played an important role. Whoever had stronger Ancient genes was the "boss." The others had to "strain," while those with strong Ancient genes performed most operations while yawning and picking their noses.
Figuratively speaking, of course.
I need to think about all this more carefully. After all, if the city's main computer really determines seniority among those present solely by gene strength, that's both an insurance policy and a problem.
In the first case, there's a shaky confidence that the city will block access to its key systems if there's no Lantean inside Atlantis in the form of me.
In the second... Well, what will happen if dozens or hundreds of Lanteans — whom I've brought back to life — show up at Atlantis? They'll take power away from me and say: "Take a walk, boy. We'll handle it from here." A perfectly possible scenario, given that something similar happened in the events I know of.
And if you factor in the fact that the Ascended don't like me much, it's not hard to lose everything I've earned through hard work. Chaya cooperates with me partly because she has nowhere else to go — the Ancients who have transitioned to pure energy, that is, the Ascended, don't like her either. Not as much as me, of course, but still...
It's curious that the thought, "Won't I lose everything I've earned through hard work when I bring the remaining living Ancients back to the city?" only occurred to me now. Right one step before I started the "quest chain" for their rescue and return to life.
Maybe I should just give up on them and not waste time on the rescue? After all, they're not my relatives, not even my friends. Moreover, their associates were planning to kill me...
Yeah, a dilemma...
"Are you done there?" Chaya's voice rang out. "I understand that unnecessary movement and turning off the comm channel aren't interesting to you. But put yourself in my shoes — I'm falling from a height of fifteen meters here..."
* * *
Not too often in her past life, the one before Ascension, had she worked in zero gravity. After all, she was one of the smartest representatives of a lesser race. Specialists worked in the lab.
Work like this was done by less qualified technicians. But she didn't have a technical team at hand, so it was all herself, herself...
Transferring power from the Jumper to the docking port was enough for the armored doors to swing open and clear the way inside the combat structure. Chaya had never visited the Satellites before and didn't know too much about their design.
There wasn't much detailed information in the database, but the girl was prepared for what she saw. The narrow neck of the docking port smoothly transitioned into the widening throat of the main control room levels. Simple ladders for movement were mounted on the walls — after all, the satellite's interior was small. Just enough for a few technicians and the equipment for launch and diagnostics.
The Satellites were conceived as remotely controlled weapons, so having even one sentient on combat duty wasn't planned. The control room was only needed for maintenance and repair.
Entering the satellite. Footage from the series.
Ermen's scientific Skaf gleamed with the whiteness of its outer shell. And credit had to be given to its creators — the flexible materials of the suit barely restricted movement. So, having calculated the angle of descent and other physical parameters in her mind, the girl pushed off from the throat of the docking compartment and floated slowly toward the control room floor.
The shoulder-mounted lamp flared, illuminating the pale blue coloring of the interior and the geometric patterns of the décor so beloved by the Lantians.
The leisurely "fall" in zero gravity allowed her to examine the satellite's interior in every detail. A two-level control room, where the lower level was the main one, and the upper level, the one closer to the docking port, was auxiliary. They were connected by the same ladders for construction simplicity. Following the files found in the Atlantis database, the girl already understood which level held the control consoles she was interested in.
Extending her arms forward, the girl gently touched the floor surface of the main level with her hands, then activated the magnetic clamps built into her gloves. A soft but irresistible force pulled her to the floor, preventing her from drifting away.
Pulling her legs in, she activated the magnetic clamps on them too.
The scientific skaf of the Ermen.
Regaining a more familiar position, the girl sighed, thinking it was a good thing she'd familiarized herself with this spacesuit's capabilities beforehand. Unlike the pilot suit, it had many useful functions. Like the magnetic clamps, or the super-powerful light source connected to the suit's main power supply. Or the protective coating of ubiquitous polymer covering all the skaf's vulnerable spots.
"I'm on the main level," she informed her comrades.
"Is everything all right?" Mikhail asked. There was no worry in his voice. That made sense — the man knew the satellite was supposed to be in relatively good condition. They had discussed everything he knew about it before flying out. Even though his memories were mostly not specific, they still allowed the girl to determine in advance.
"Do you need my help?" Alvar asked. The Ermen was staying in their Jumper's cargo bay to transfer the necessary equipment to the control room.
"In two minutes, you can lower the generator on the cable," Chaya said, unhooking the tether from her belt and securing it to the control room floor with a super-powerful magnet. "Ready, awaiting the generator."
The massive structure of her invention appeared in the "throat" a few seconds later. Attached to the cable, the generator slid along it using a special device. It was generally used for faster movement along various types of ropes, but it also suited the current situation.
Two meters from the top of the generator, three airtight bags moved on the same lifting and lowering device — containing tools, spare parts, and wiring of all kinds. You never know what you'll need in the next second.
The white-blue glow of the active Naquadah core did a decent job of dispersing the darkness, but when creating this equipment, Chaya was least of all thinking about using the generator as a light source.
Two minutes later, the reactor base, resembling slabs carved from gray stone combined into a single structure, reached the control room floor. Chaya's fingers slid across one of the auxiliary panels. The systems responsible for the magnetic mount responded normally.
Without the slightest sound, which couldn't propagate in a vacuum, the reactor base was pulled to the floor, firmly anchoring itself in the middle of the main level.
"Reactor is in place," Chaya reported, opening the panels hidden in the device's sides. "Starting to connect the power source to the satellite's systems. Alvar, you can come down. Now I'll need your help. We're ready to start the whole system."
By the time the Ermen, clinging to the cable, reached the main control room level, Chaya had already found the external power outputs behind the decorative panels of the satellite's interior and connected cables to them, linking the Satellite to the Naquadah Generator.
"Are you sure it won't explode?" Mikhail asked.
"Completely," Chaya replied, seeing Alvar lock onto the floor with his magnets. "First, I'm feeding power to the internal auxiliary systems, then, after diagnostics, to the external ones."
"Good. Just in case, we'll fly a bit farther away," Misha said.
"Sensible," Chaya agreed, activating the power transfer from the reactor to the Satellite's systems.
In the same instant, dozens of monitors on both levels came to life, and the crystals, which had seemed like simple decorations, lit up. It turned out that they were actually a type of lighting device the Ancients used in their technology.
"Power is on, the satellite is accepting energy from the new generator," Chaya reported, looking at the laptop floating in zero gravity — as Mikhail called her portable computer. "The repaired circuits are working under load, the energy surge warning system is active, the diagnostics indicate a number of faults, but I can fix them from the inside."
"Any chance of restoring this thing?" Kirik's voice came through. It seemed Mikhail was still using his ship's intercom on the general frequency. "Thousands of years have passed."
"Turning on life support," the girl activated several command sequences on the laptop. Inside the Satellite, the systems powering up began to hum. "So... the temperature will soon return to normal, the oxygen is being supplied from the Jumper, but the independent system will start working soon..."
"And the weapons?" Mikhail asked.
Chaya ran her eyes over the data on the monitors. "It was designed to be powered by weak energy sources. It fires by accumulating energy in a special buffer... Oh!"
"And what does that mean?" Mikhail asked, concerned.
"The new power source is much stronger than the previous one. What's more, I think we'll be able to fire with a short recharge. We'll be able to fire for quite a while. Well, until they shoot us down."
"That sounds optimistic," the man with Lantean genetics assessed. "So, we can leave you alone?"
"Yes," Alvar replied, with Chaya's permission removing his skaf helmet. "The air here... well, it's thin, but it'll get better soon. And it'll be more comfortable to work, right?"
"Right," Chaya nodded in response, approaching one of the panels with a scanner on her laptop. "There's a burned-out relay and fuses on the auxiliary system. Starting to replace them with analogs. Oh, confirmation from the Satellite's systems has come through — the control room's seal isn't broken. So we won't need spacesuits at all — and that's definite."
"We'll be back in five hours," Mikhail announced. "Time to go hunt some Wraiths!"
"Now that's my kind of thing," Kirik echoed. "Are you sure you don't want to kill him?"
"Absolutely," Mikhail said firmly. "Chaya, Alvar, the atmosphere on this planet is heavily ionized, so we'll have communication issues. If you don't hear from us in five hours, fly to Atlantis. Abandon us — if the three of us can't handle it, there's nothing for the two of you to do there anyway. Alvar, do you copy?"
"Loud and clear," the Ermen looked at the Proculucian. "Good hunting."
"And good luck with your repairs," Mikhail replied. "Well, team? How about we go hunting some Wraith?"