"It would be better if we went back to Atlantis and asked Chaya for advice," Kirik said, swallowing the lump in his throat.
The former fugitive was staring into the endless void, glancing fearfully at the mangled forward section of the Aurora.
"Fully agreed," I seconded. "We're strong and brave, definitely not pushovers. At every problem, we'll turn to a fragile, modest girl for help."
A girl who was older than the entire human race.
Kirik turned to me carefully, trying not to bump anything on his light spacesuit.
"A little shame is better than dying from suffocation."
Through the helmet visor of his suit, I could see sweat on the former fugitive's face. And the suit had a climate control system. It was amazing how productive the human body was, that it could overcome the limits of clever electronics!
I carefully, making sure to grip the edges of the airlock, poked my head outside. The proximity of the terrifyingly damaged Aurora did nothing to boost optimism. I understood why Kirik didn't think my plan was a good idea. No kidding! Who would dare to go where only metal beams of varying sharpness stuck out at every angle known to three-dimensional geometry?
"Come on," I encouraged the man, slapping him on the shoulder. "Is running from Wraiths, risking your life every time you enter a new world, really scarier than taking one little step?"
The former fugitive swore.
."..my ass!" was the only printable thing I caught from his speech. I'd heard of a ship's bosun's curse. But this was clearly heavier artillery from a Pegasus Galaxy dweller's vocabulary.
I'd have to make a note of that. For broadening my horizons, of course.
"Don't worry, Alvar said these suits can survive an impact with a solid object," I encouraged the former fugitive as best I could. "A military design, after all. They flew in them in near-planetary space! Without any inertial dampeners, by the way!"
I remembered Jensen's face when I'd discussed my plan with him.
"Bold," he'd said. "But you need to understand, these are suits designed for pilots. They can withstand an impact with a solid object, that's undeniable. But not when the object is moving at several hundred kilometers per second! You'd be smeared across the nearest wall!"
I decided not to share those last two sentences with the timid fugitive. The guy was already in a pre-heart-attack state.
Military spacesuit, Ermenite pilot.
The military suit wasn't too different from the scientific one. But the difference was still noticeable. Made of camouflage fabric, it was lighter, with more polymer protective padding. And there were no mountings for small gas thrusters, like on the scientific suits. Well, pilots didn't need to correct their flight in open space!
And right now, I really regretted not taking one of the scientific suits. Yes, it was more uncomfortable, a bit bulkier... But right now it would have been more useful than anything!
It also had a smaller energy reserve, but it had a visor dimming function. That was useful when you were flying at huge speeds in a space fighter on a planet's orbit. And clouds, the ozone layer, and the planet's magnetosphere didn't save your eyes from the relentless stellar radiation. As they say, you can look at the Sun through a regular telescope only twice — once with your left eye, and once with your right.
"Maybe you should double-check?" Kirik asked. "There must be some way to stop the ship remotely!"
"There must be," I agreed. "And it would work if at least part of the Aurora's main systems were in order. But the ship's computer is damaged, only some of the automation is working. No life support, no signs of life, just minimal power consumption... It's a miracle it responded to the call from Atlantis at all. If that's all from you, it's time to get to work," I pointed at the approaching hulk of the ruined ship.
"Are you sure you can fix the teleportation chamber on board the Aurora?" Kirik asked me.
The starship, like the Hippaforalkus and Atlantis, was equipped with transport chambers. Obviously, this was the most common way to move between a planet and ships in orbit.
But scanning the Aurora showed that this system was malfunctioning onboard. The primary circuit was fried, and several crystals in the secondary weren't working. I had spares for those, and the scanner could help redirect the power. Besides, basically, to take control of the ship, we didn't need to do anything too fancy. We just needed to get to the backup command center. Which had no external damage. But it was powered down — like most of the ship's systems.
"Yes," I announced. "In the absolute worst case, if nothing works out, we'll make it to the hangar deck, grab a Jumper there, and break out."
The Aurora's single hangar had significant damage and deformation. However, scanners showed two or three relatively intact Jumpers inside. They were our backup escape plan number three. And it had that number because the hangar doors were warped, the hangar itself was badly mangled, and there was no guarantee we could even reach it.
So for now, we were executing plan number one: get aboard, reach the secondary bridge, use the engines to slow the ship and restore life support in the interior sections. Most of the outer sections were so badly damaged that even landing in them was life-threatening.
If that worked, we'd have to repair the transport chamber and proceed from there.
"I hope that Jumper survives," Kirik said, patting the hull of the Jumper we were in.
I was just leisurely overtaking the rapidly moving wreck to time things right and reach the breach I needed. It wasn't an easy task. More like a ten-star difficulty one.
So, here's the setup: I need to get aboard an Ancient battleship coasting on inertia in a vacuum at ten times the solar escape velocity. Yes, exactly one hundred sixty-seven kilometers per second. A trifle for the working sublight engines of a ship like the Aurora or the Hippaforalkus.
And practically at the Jumper's maximum capability.
Yes, the ship had responded to the deceleration command and even used its braking thrusters. But it hadn't made any noticeable difference.
Its speed was changing insignificantly, and we didn't have infinite time for it to stop on its own.
I had to solve a physics problem the classic way.
Find: a way to make the ship stop, or find a way to evacuate its crew.
Solution: ...And here's where the song and dance begins.
Docking with the Aurora was impossible. Absolutely impossible. After an hour and a half digging through the data logs of our ship's onboard computer, I understood why it wouldn't work.
For docking, both starships have to lower their shields. The Aurora didn't have any, so no problem there. But the Hippaforalkus did. It also had working scanners and safety protocols.
And according to them, docking was prohibited if there was a risk of damage. That protocol could be bypassed, but not with my ability to understand the Ancients' programming language.
The Hippaforalkus's onboard computer, despite even Chaya's code patches, refused to lower the shield and dock with the Aurora. Simply because we'd have to get so close to the damaged starship that its mangled bow section would tear half our hull apart.
Yes, our battleship's onboard computer demonstrated exactly how 'wonderful' that would be. No wonder Skynet was undefeated for so long — if it had been as smart as the Hippaforalkus's computer, it would never have fought openly. It would have done everything in the shadows, convincing people it was only acting for their comfort and safety.
The maximum the ship 'agreed to' was practically matching speeds with both ships, staying as close as possible to its damaged sister, and holding a parallel course with the Aurora.
'Practically matching speeds' meant that the Hippaforalkus was currently a good distance ahead of the Aurora, but was slowing down, preparing to finally match her speed and eventually drift. Strangely enough, a starship in space could apparently be brought to a complete stop. You didn't even need to turn its engines against the original course. That's what maneuvering and braking thrusters were invented for. Their purpose, I think, was obvious from the name.
Alvar was piloting the ship. He didn't show it, but he was enormously proud of the honor.
And he was courageously terrified, understanding that a multi-kilometer star battleship wasn't the same as the fighter he'd commanded. Still, this operation was revealing a lot to me about Ancient technology.
For example, a battleship launched by a crew member with the Ancient gene wouldn't shut down until given the appropriate command. That was why Alvar could pilot the starship. But that same technology didn't work on a Jumper.
Interesting. I suspected it had something to do with the Ancients dividing themselves into the titular and lesser races.
Anyway, this was all just nerves from the upcoming suicide mission.
Why suicide? Well, it was simple.
The only way to get onto the Aurora was to physically transfer to it. In the series, Earth used Asgard beam technology for that. It allowed moving an object from one point to another by converting it into pure energy. Similar to how the Stargates and Ancient transport chambers worked. But without needing an equipment pad at the destination. You could pick something up anywhere and send it anywhere. Yes, there were limitations, like shields or specific interference, like the Wraiths had.
We could use that kind of technology too. But there was a catch — it required Asgard. A splinter group of their society lived in the Pegasus Galaxy, and the rest... lived in their own galaxy, called either Ida or Aida. And I had no idea where that was.
So, since we didn't have the official stamp paper, we'd use plain drafting paper with wood pieces.
My initial idea was to calculate the ships' speeds and jump out of the Hippaforalkus on the fly. Considering the speed from the push, the Aurora's speed, the distance between ships, the width of the damaged battleship's hull, and the magnets built into the soles and palms of the spacesuits, under a stroke of luck there was a decent chance of landing somewhere on the Aurora's hull, reaching the nearest hatch, opening it manually, and getting inside. Then, following the plan, getting where we needed to be and doing what was important.
There was only one downside to the plan, dubbed 'Folly and Valor': most likely, the Aurora's hull would splatter any jumper against its ancient bulkheads like a bug on a windshield. No, honestly, the Hippaforalkus even helped with calculations — there was a good chance of falling right into one of the huge holes in the hull, catching on the metal with the magnets, bleeding off inertia, and...
I got scared. Because... what if it didn't work? Some unaccounted-for factor, and that was it — at best I'd die. I wasn't sure even an Ancient personal shield would save me from death on impact. At worst, my acrobatics would fail, Her Majesty Chance would intervene, I wouldn't be able to grab hold, and I'd fly off into deep space, cursing and calling out to higher powers. Because I had serious doubts that Alvar, running the Hippaforalkus with only buttons, could 'catch' me in the open hangar bay doors.
So I had to change the plan. A small addition in the form of a Jumper with a supply of food, medicine, and ammunition in the aft compartment for unforeseen circumstances, and, voila!
We launched from the Hippaforalkus's hangar in the Jumper, several hundred thousand kilometers ahead of the Aurora. Using the Jumper's directional scanners, I managed to stabilize relative to where we needed to 'land,' matched the Aurora's speed as best I could to avoid what happened to the fly and the windshield...
The plan was brilliant — fly parallel to the battleship and slowly guide the ship's stern right into one notable hole from which we could reach the battleship's interior. With luck, the Jumper would get minimal damage and become an escape route under plan number three, but with an 'alpha' tag. That would make it a higher priority than traveling to the Aurora's hangar for conditionally working Jumpers.
But...
Thank you, Her Majesty Chance!
The Jumper's engines, already running at the limit (and a bit beyond) of their speeds and under prolonged load, died. The speed we'd built up in the vacuum was practically un-bled. And the Jumper's systems wouldn't come back to life. We were effectively in a small drifting coffin built by the Ancients, coasting on inertia.
So that was how we were flying over the Aurora's hull, but projected right at a massive breach just off the stern. And at the same time, we were loading ourselves with everything we could carry onto the starship.
While listening to Alvar's reports that the stellar wind in the surrounding space was increasing by so many points... And for us, it was exactly that 'wind correction' snipers account for when shooting at long distances.
Our distance wasn't small either — a kilometer or so. And the situation was complicated by the fact that that damned stellar wind was pushing the Jumper sideways. A bit more, and we'd drift out of the zone where we could land where we wanted.
So... even if it wasn't from the Hippaforalkus, we'd still have to jump into the unknown.
And the only thing that could help me with the calculations now was my own brain. Which was currently way too busy chewing over thoughts of exactly what horrible death awaited me.
We only had two tries to succeed. If we failed, nothing would save us. A wizard in a blue Jumper wasn't going to show up.
"Misha, in ten minutes you'll be completely swept past the bridge," Alvar warned me.
Well, the jitters were gone. Time to act.
"I'll jump first," Kirik said, looking no more cheerful than a minute ago when I'd sunk into my thoughts. "Once I get a grip, I'll pull you in on the line," he tugged at the metal cable attached to his belt. "If you see me drifting away from the target, try to hit the right spot on the second attempt, or at least get a grip on the hull. Then you can pull me in. Don't forget your bag with tools and parts. That's the most important thing now."
"I remember the plan," Kirik replied shortly. "But I'd rather you managed on your own."
You and me both.
Besides the line connecting us, two bags with the essentials we'd need on board the damaged ship were attached to our belts. Most of our supplies had to stay in the Jumper's lockers.
Aaah...
Grabbing the edges of the Jumper's exit hatch with both hands, I looked at the ugly hulk of the damaged starship. I felt like that guy who signed up for skydiving but chickened out at the edge of the plane. Because he saw how small the Earth was beneath his feet. And how solid it looked...
"Nine minutes!"
"One small push for a man..." I began, bending my knees and pushing off from the Jumper's threshold.
The magnetic boots disengaged as expected.
And I soared toward the disfigured superstructure of the Ancient ship.
* * *
When people say they aren't scared, they're lying. Or they're psychos.
Fear is a natural instinct that looks out for the preservation of a foolish head.
Jumping into open space toward a rushing Ancient battleship is terrifying. Especially when you realize that if you miss, your life depends entirely on a guy who knows even less about space than you do.
Weightlessness... Strange sensations from it. No gravity, no pressure from any side. Just the thought beating in my head: 'This ship isn't big enough to have its own gravity!' Actually... why the hell would it even have that, anyway?
Stupid thoughts creep into my mind to suppress the fear and despair. I really wanted to be back in the safe Jumper, try to revive it again. I really wanted someone to suddenly show up and stop me from doing this.
But the universe had it in for me. Neither the Ascended, nor the Earthlings, nor the Wraiths, nor the Asgard, not even Chaya came to help. More than that, it turned out that without me on board, Alvar couldn't operate all the active systems. Including subspace communication. We also didn't dare test the hyperdrive — there was a chance the smart ship would set a return course for Atlantis, and that wouldn't help us at all. We definitely wouldn't last two weeks near the Aurora.
Our only chance of survival was the ruined battleship. And a prayer to those who built it that there was something there to fix.
Alvar knew that in the absolute worst case, if neither Kirik nor I could achieve what we wanted, he'd have to use Koschei's help. He'd already been taken off his medicated coma; he should come to soon. In about an hour. Our suits had oxygen for another three hours. That was escape plan number four in all its glory.
The ship's disfigured superstructure, protruding as a semi-circular dome from the top of the Aurora's midsection, was approaching. Much faster than I would have liked.
I got so scared that the cold paralyzed my spine. We were closing in relentlessly — me and the disfigured ten-thousand-year-old starship.
"Seven minutes," Alvar reported.
Wait, where the hell did two more minutes go?! How far were we from the Aurora? Two minutes is a hundred twenty seconds, the battleship is traveling at one hundred seventy kilometers per second, which means...
Aaaaaah!!! A metal beam was flying straight into my face! And fine if it was sticking out lower or from the main hull! It was jutting out right above the bridge! About ten meters from the Aurora's hull! I'd missed the battleship! I'd jumped too 'high'!
About a hundred meters to that ill-fated beam — or so it seems to me — but I have a clear conviction that it will simply pierce me through, and no personal protective field will help!
"Mikhail, are you alive?" the concerned Kirik asked.
"You won't get that, damn you!" I hissed through gritted teeth, realizing the beam was passing about a meter to my right... And if I did something stupid...
My brain latched onto the thought that the impulse wasn't stupidity at all. I reached out my hand, activating the magnets in my gloves to grab hold of the beam. After all, what difference does it make exactly where I grab the ship, right?
The glove touched the metal, the magnet activation light flashed, I was happy...
And in the next second, I received a helluva jerk that nearly ripped my arm out of my shoulder along with half my spacesuit, and I shot off in the opposite direction! In the same direction as the Aurora, not toward it!
Screaming hysterically and tumbling through space, I felt my empty stomach stick to my heart. Everything was spinning so fast before my eyes that for a moment I thought I'd ended up in a blender.
Several times my eyes caught the coiling cable behind me, there were the engine lights of the Hippaforalkus, there was the Aurora — oh! That's the destroyed bridge of the Aurora, where I was trying to get to! But it's flying past me! Five or ten meters at a guess. But that's more than enough to fly off to hell into open space! And I can see I'm gradually moving away from the ship! So, hello vacuum, we'll freeze together!
"I overshot it!" The adrenaline in my blood made me speak louder than usual. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was about to rip out of my chest, like some alien chestburster. Rip out and beat the crap out of its stupid owner! "Kirik, when you jump, aim lower than I did."
"Still about a kilometer of cable," he said quickly. "It's unraveling very fast..."
Of course it's fast! Because I'm not flying in a straight line, but in a spiral, tumbling like an idiot! Look how many loops I've already wound around that beam... If I went sharply downward, it would have...
During the next somersault I nearly splattered against some part of the Aurora rushing toward me. Only luck saved me from that. Damn it, everything happens in the blink of an eye here! The ship isn't infinite, the bitch! I need to act!
I grabbed the firearm on my hip. A thought pounded in my head — would I be able to fire it in a vacuum? The gunpowder combustion reaction — or whatever the Ermens put in their cartridges — requires oxygen... Stop, damn it! What oxygen? The bullet in the cartridge is crimped so tightly that nothing can get in! It's a closed system; otherwise, when the primer is struck, the chemical ignition would blow the pistol to hell! Or the shot power would be pathetic!
I really hope that's the case!
Timing the moment when I'd be with my back to the ship, I pulled the trigger, aiming into the vast cosmos. And praying that the inertia of the shot would be stronger than the rotational speed I'd gotten from the jerk...
Silently, of course, but the pistol fired. I knew this from the cartridge ejected by the chamber. For a while my body experienced some very unpleasant sensations — the forces were fighting each other... The rotational force won. But it had slowed noticeably.
Ha, bitch! Can't fool physics! Alchemists tried, but they got burned!
After the third shot, the inertia of approach toward the ship became stronger than the speed the rotation had given me. I had to fire one more time to keep from smearing against some other protrusion on the ship's hull. Stop already, you old bitch! Halt! Brake! Where are you charging, you mechanical beast! I came to save you! Kick in the engines before I fly past! Hey, dammit!
The stern of the Aurora was approaching very quickly. And if I don't make it now, I'm done for...
"Misha, Kirik, get ready! The Aurora is about to start braking hard!" Alvar informed me.
"Is that so?" I hissed. From my side, little had changed. And why the hell would the ship suddenly need to decelerate? But fine, I'll take his word for it! "Kirik, are you ready?"
"I'm already flying!" was the reply.
Bitch, he could have warned me!
At the very moment I was ready to grab the hull of the Aurora near the superstructure, my hand only grasped vacuum. The middle section of the starship had simply ended...
Resembling a syringe pulled to its fullest extent, the Aurora now flashed before me like a piston. And in just a little while, the wide stern would appear and that would be it — say goodbye.
Because I'd run out of ammunition, damn it! And the pouch with ammo and tools had been torn off during the spinning! At least the cable was still there and...
The free end of the steel cable I was connected to Kirik with flashed before my faceplate. And at its end was that very loop that had been torn from my belt on my back. At least not with a piece of the suit!
Bad day! A hellishly bad day!
By now it was already obvious that the Aurora was working no better than a computer with a completely full hard drive. That is, it was really, truly slowing down. But I wasn't slowing down! I kept flying and...
My hand felt something on my other thigh. Looking there, I yanked a spare magazine for the pistol out of a pocket. Good thing I'd had the sense not to throw it away! Or rather, I simply hadn't had time!
Reloading in space isn't for everyone. But I managed on the second try! Pointing the weapon away from the cable, I fired.
The inertia carried me toward the tangle of steel cable, after which I grabbed the nearest part, wound it around my arm as hard as I could, gripped tight, and fired away from the ship.
The impulse threw me toward the ship. With the next one I corrected course. Then again.
On the fifth round I managed to achieve a flight strictly straight. I briefly explained the course correction method to Kirik, internally cursing myself for not thinking of it earlier!
The former Runner would only start acting after my last magazine ran out. He's much closer to the ship now than I am. But something tells me he might not be able to fly on gunshots the way I can.
The stern of the Aurora was about a kilometer away, and I saw its dead engines before me. But strangely enough. I was flying straight, and if the ship were moving, its parts would be flashing before my face and...
The Aurora was standing still. There could be only two explanations for that.
And since I don't see any signs of energy on board, then...
I raised my head and silently cursed.
"Alvar, tell me that was the best of the options..."
"The only one we could think of, Misha," Alvar said sadly. "The ship's systems are shutting down one by one. Koschei managed to position the battleship exactly on the Aurora's course and kill her speed against us. The shields held, the hull didn't suffer. At least on our end. Both ships are in dead drift... And I think that's all we have left."
"Whatever you're planning to do, human," came the raspy voice of the Wraith, "do it quickly. In a few hours we won't even have oxygen left. The life support system will shut down next after..."
His signal cut out. From this distance I couldn't even see the porthole lights on the Hippaforalkus. Seems I overestimated the "turn on the ship and leave it to your friends" ability.
I suppose the communication with the ship shut down before life support. So I'll have to really push myself...
With the second-to-last round I managed to adjust my course to land in one of the large breaches on the Aurora's hull. There were clearly many in the aft section. That was probably why the ship was flying on inertia.
Flying inside the battered ship, I gratefully slammed my shoulder into a bulkhead and activated the magnets on my boots and gloves. Almost immediately I breathed a sigh of relief. So much so that the visor before my face fogged up.
On the other side of the glass, double doors leading into the ship stared back at me. I made it.
I probably went gray, but I made it.
"I'm on board," I muttered, though I knew it was unlikely anyone could hear me. Maybe only Kirik...
"If you can, pull me in quickly," the former Runner said with relief in his voice. "I'm a kilometer from the ship... At least the cable didn't snap."
Lucky son of a bitch.
"Don't relax," I advised. "Better climb the cable hand over hand like a rope. I'm not sure we have time or that I have the strength to pull you in."
If only I could remember how long this steel rope of ours was...